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Benj -1.::::,:, am:ilni-~: i................. ii'iii:-:IAiiid:il-8 i iii; -B e jin iil~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~N......................D~:_'~: ~ I~18.......................' x:Martin iqueB i~::::::i~:;:...................~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~i GU I DE TO SOCIAL I AP P INES S. BY MIrS ELLIS, AUTHOR OF VOM.AEN, DAUGHTERS, WIVES AND MOTHERS OF ENGLAND, &c. &c,. EDWA RD WALKER. 114 FULTON-STREET CONTENTS. Page. Page. Characteristics of Poetry... 5 The Poetry of Sound....... 71 WVVhy certain objects are, or are not The Poetry of Language. 79 Poetical.......... 10 The Poetry of Love..... 92 Individual Associations.... 15 The Poetry of Grief..... 102 General Associations..... 19 The Poetry of Woman...... 111 The Poetry of Flowers...... 24 The Poetry of the Bible..... 126 The Poetry of Trees...... 27 The Poetry of Religion.... 138 The Poetry of Animals.... 32 Impression..... 148 The Poetry of Evening...... 41 Imagination......... 153 The Poetry of the Moon..... 45 Power........ 160 The Poetry of Rural Life..... 52 Taste....... 167 The Poetry of Painting... 60 Conclusion...... 173 i @1 An_-~~~~~~~~~~~. i. * — PREFACE IN offering to the attention of the of the aword life in its widely expublic, two volumes on the poetry of tended sense, as comprehending all life, some apology seems necessary for the functions, attributes, and capa4 prefixing to my book a title of such bilities peculiar to sentient beings. indefinite signification. If poetry Whatever may be the opinion of i be understood to mean mere versi- the public respecting the manner in i fication, and life mere vitality, it which my task has been executed, would be difficult indeed to estab- the enjoyment it has afforded to the lish their connection with each other. writer, in being the means of a reThe design of the present work is newed acquaintance with the printo treat of poetic feeling, rather than ciples of intellectual happiness, is poetry; and this feeling I have en- already in possession; and I have deavoured to describe as the great only to wish that the reader may connecting link between our intel- be induced to seek the same enjoylects and our affections; while the ment, in a more spiritual intercustoms of society, as well as the course with nature, and a more license of modern literature, afford profound admiration of the beauty me sufficient authority for the use and harmony of the creation. A 1U THE POETRY OF LIFE. CHARACTERISTICS OF POETRY. lating men to write Poetry: the love of fame, the want of money, and an internal restlessTHAT the quality of modern Poetry is a ness of feeling, which is too indiscriminately subject of general complaint with those who called genius. The first of these ceases would purchase-that the price affixed to it with the second, for without the means of by the judgment of the public is equally circulation there can be no hope of fame. complained of by those who would sell-in The third alone operates in the present day, short, that Poetry is at present " a drug in and small, indeed, is the recompense bethe market," is a phrase too hackneyed, too stowed in these ungrateful times upon the vulgar and too frequently assented too, to poets who write because they cannot help it. 1 need repetition here; except as an established Yet after all, is not this the true and legitifact, the nature, cause, and consequence of mate method by which the genuine coin of which, I propose endeavouring to point out genius is moulded? The love of fame is a in the following pages. high and soul-stirring principle, but sall it is Wherever a taste fobr Poetry exists, there degraded with the stigma of selfish aggranwill be a desire to read as well as to write; dizement, and who does not feel that a shade to receive as well as to impart that enjoy- is cast upon those expression of robie sentiment which poetic feeling affords. In other ment, which bear the impress of tLaving been cases of marketable produce, the supply is prepared and set forth solely for public approfound to keep pace with the demand, ex- bation. The want of money is, mdeed, a cept when physical causes operate against potent stimulus. How potent let the midit. If the poets of the present day have night labours of the starving poet testify. "writtenthemselves out," as the common and The want of money may it is true, urge onunmeaning expression is, what, with a ra- ward towards the same gual as the love of pidly increasing population, should hinder fame, but the one operates, as it were, from the springing up of fresh poets to delight behind, by the painful application of a goad; the world? The fact is, that most of. the while the other attracts, and fascinates by the living poets have betaken themselves to brightness of some object before, which too 1 Prose as a more lucrative employment, thus often proves to be an ignis fatuus in the disproving, that the taste for Poetry is la- tance. But there is within the human mina mentably decreasing in the public mind; an active and powerful principle, that awakand while on one hand, genius is weeping ens the dormant faculties, lights up the brain, over her harvest "whitening in the sun," and launches forth imagination to gather up without hope of profit to repay the toil of from the wide realm of nature the very esgathering in the golden store; on the other, sence of what every human bosom pines for, criticism is in arms against less sordid adven- when it aspires to a higher state of existturers, and calls in no measured terms upon ence, and feels the insufficiency of this. It the mighty minstrels of past ages to avenge is this heaven-born and ethereal principle, Parnassus of her wrongs. not inaptly personified as the Spirit of Poesy, Three different motives operate in stimu- that weaves a garland of the flowers which 6 THE POETRY OF LIFE. imagination has culled; and from the fer- the human mind with all the advantages afvency of its own passion, to impart as well forded by the most enlightened state of civas to receive enjoyment, casts this gar- ilization should have become more base and land at the feet of the sordid and busy mul- degenerate, as that the treasury of nature titude, who pause, not to admire, but tram- should be exhausted, it becomes a subject ple its vivid beauty in the dust. It is this of curious and interesting investigation to principle that will not let the intellectual fac- search out the cause, and ascertain whether ulties remain inactive, but is for ever work- it may not be in some measure attributable ing in the laboratory of the brain, combin- to our'present system of education being one ing, sublimating, and purifying. It is this of words rather than of ideas, of the head principle, when under the government of rather than of the heart, of calculation rather right reason, which is properly called ge- than moral feeling. nius. It is this principle when perverted While the full and free tide of knowledge is from its high purpose, and made the minis- daily pouring from the press, while books and ter of base passions, which produces the book makers appear before us in every possimost splendid and most melancholy ruin. ble situation, and under all imaginable cirIt is this principle, when devoted to the cumstances, so that to have written a volcause of holiness, which scatters over the ume, is no less a distinction than to have path of desolation flowers of unfading love- read one through; while cheap and populiness: pours floods of light upon our distant lar publications fraught with all manner of prospects of the celestial city; and inspires interesting details are accessible to the poorthe harps of heaven-taught minstrels with est classes of the community, it is impossiundying melody. ble to believe that there is not sufficient This principle, in less figurative phraseol- talent concentrated or afloat to constitute a ogy, I would describe as the Poetry of Life; poet. And while the blue sky bends over because it pervades all things either seen, all-while that sky is studded with the same felt, or understood, where the associations bright host of stars, amongst which the phiare sublime, beautiful and tender, or refined. losopher is perpetually discovering fresh In short, where the ideas which naturally worlds of glory; while the seasons with connect themselves with our contemplation their infinite variety still continue to bring of such subjects are most exclusively intel- forth, to vivify, and to perfect the produce lectual, and separate from sense. of the earth; while the woods are vocal with That there is much Poetry in real life, melody, and ihe air is peopled with myriads with all its sorrows, and pains, and sordid of ephemeral beings whose busy wings are anxieties, and that " all is not vanity and dipped in gold, or bathed in azure, or light vexation of spirit under the sun," to him and fragile as the gossomer, yet ever bearwho can honestly and innocently enjoy the ing them on through a region of delight, commonest blessings of Providence," has from the snowy bosom of the lily, to the been already proved by one in whose steps scented atmosphere of the rose; while the I feel that 1 am unworthy to walk; but since, mountain stream rushes down from the hills, in his admirable lectures on Poetry, he has or the rivers roll onward to the sea; and treated the subject as a science, rather than above all, while there exists in the heart of a principle; I am imboldened to take up the man a deep sense of these enjoyments —a theme, to which he, above all men (more mirror in which beauty is reflected-an echo especially above all women) would have to the voice of music; while he is capable done justice, had he chosen to launch forth of feeling admiration for that which is noble into more abstruse and speculative notions or sublime, tenderness for the weak, symparespecting the nature and influence of poetic thy for the suffering, and affection for all feeling. things lovely, it is impossible to believe that That the poetry of the present times is an true poetry should cease to please, or fail to unsaleable article needs then no farther proof awaken a response in the human heart. than the observation and experience of every And that man is capable of all this, and day, and since it is as difficult to believe that more, and more capable in proportion as he.1 — a-. _..__ _.... 1 CHARACTERISTICS OF POETRY. 7 cultivates and cherishes the noblest faculties noble, lovely or refined in nature, be able to of his nature, we have to thank the Giver produce a poem or a picture that will please of all our enjoyments, the Creator of all our the imagination or warm the heart, even capabilities. though in his laboured performance, the eriHow are these faculties now cultivated? tic should find no fault with the harmony of " Know.edge is power." But neither is his numbers, the choice of his colouring, or knowledge all that we live for, nor power all the subjects of both. that we enjoy. There are deep mysteries The qualifications of a true poet are, in in the book of nature which all can feel, but the first place, natural capacity, and favournone will ever understand until the veil of able opportunity for receiving impressions; mortality shall be withdrawn. There are and in the second, ability to arrange, comstirrings in the soul of man which constitute pare, and select from these impressions. the very essence of his being, and which Without the former, he must be deficient m power can neither satisfy nor subdue. Yet materials for his work; without the latter, this mystery reveals more truly than the he must want the power to make a rational clearest proofs or mightiest deductions of use of any materials whatever. It is the science, that a master hand has been for former alone that we can suppose to be ages, and is still at work, above, beneath, wanting in the present day; for though the and around us; and this moving principle is human mind unquestionably retains the same for ever reminding us that in our nature we capabilities it possessed in the last century, inherit the germs of a future existence over it is possible that opportunities for imbibing which time has no influence, and the grave strong impressions from external nature may no victory, not now be afforded with the same facility; Far be it from every liberal mind to main- and that in the present rapid march of inteltain the superiority of feeling over the other lect, the muse of poesy may be so hurried faculties of our nature. In forming a correct out of breath, as not to find time to chant opinion on any subject of taste, it is neces- her charmed lays. sary to examine, compare, and criticise, with The same causes which tend to destroy an eye familiarized to what is most admira- that taste, which would ensure to the works ble, and a judgment controlled by a strict of our poets a welcome reception in refined adherence to the rules of art. No argument and intellectual circles of society, necessarily is required to prove that were feeling al- operate against the production ofpoetry; and lowed to be the sole impulse of our actions, thus, while we refuse to feast our minds with we should become as culpable in morals, as ideas of the sublime and beautiful, we must absurd in our pursuits; or that the man naturally lose the higher sensibilities and gifted with the quickest perceptions and finer perceptions of our nature. To awaken keenest sensibility, yet untutored in scientific these sensibilities, and quicken these perceprules, would expose himself to well-merited tions, by pointing out what it is which conridicule, should he attempt in a poem or a stitutes the poetry of life, will be the task of picture, to delineate his own conceptions of the writer through the following pages; to grandeur or beauty. Even were he able to prove, that in order to see, think, or write throw into his performance the force of the poetically, it is necessary that we should at most daring genius, or the most inextin- some period of our lives, have had time and guishable enthusiasm, it would prove in the opportunity to receive deep and lasting imend, no better than a mockery of art, and pressions; and that out of these impressions remain a memorial of his own madness and is woven the interminable chain of associafolly. Nor, on the other hand, will he who tion which connects our perceptions of things is by nature destitute of sensibility, or he present, with our ideas or conceptions of who has spent the spring-time of existence those which are remote. in the crowded city, and expended all the In commencing a serious and arduous fresh energies of his mind in the bustle and task, it would ill become an accountable hurry of sordid occupations, having laid up agent to neglect the important inquiry of no secret store of associations with what is what may be the moral good of such an un dertaking; and here the question will natu- are row wrapped up in his soul, as the rudirally occur to many, whether poetry is of ments of the future plant in the seed. As a any real value in promoting the happiness necessary result of this constitution, the soul, of man. England is a commercial country, possessed and moved by these mighty, and we know that poetry has little to do with though infant energies, is perpetually stretchincreasing the facilities of commerce, as little ing beyond what is present and visible, as with the better regulation of the poor struggling against the -bounds of its earthly laws, or with the settlement of any of those prison-house, and seeking relief and joy in leading questions ~which at present agitate imaginings of unseen and ideal being. the political world. But poetry has a world This view of our nature which has never of its own-a world in which, if sordid cal- been fully developed, and which goes farculations have no place, the noble, the im- ther towards explaining the contradictions of mortal part of our nature is cherished, invi- human life than all others, carries us to the gorated and refined. very foundation and sources of poetry. He, In touching upon this inspiring theme, it is who cannot interpret by his own consciousimpossible not to feel the inadequacy of ness what we have now said, wants the true moderate powers when compared with those key to works of genius. He has not peneof perhaps the most luminous writers of the trated those sacred recesses of the soul, present day, whose review of Milton's works where poetry is born and nourished, and incontains in direct relation to this subject, the hales immortal vigour, and wings herself for following eloquent and inimitable appeal to her heavenward flight. In an intellectual rite highest feelings of human nature. I nature, framed for progress, and for higher quote at great length, because I would not modes of being, there must be creative enerbreak the charm of the whole passage by gies, powers of original, and ever-growing' garbled extracts; and I risk the quotation at thought; and poetry is the form in which' the peril of having the test of my book con- these energies are chiefly manifested. It i trasted with these pages, like a chaplet of the glorious prerogative of this art, that it j mock gems, in which is one true diamond. makes' all things new' for the gratification "Milton's fame rests chiefly on his poetry, of a divine instinct. It indeed finds its eleand to this we naturally give our first atten- ments in what it actually sees and expetion. By those who are apt to speak of po- riences, in the worlds of matter and mind, ety as light reading, Milton's eminence in but it- combines and blends these into new this sphere may be considered as only giving forms, and according to new affinities; him a high rank among the contributors to breaks down, if we may so say, the distinepublic amusement. Not so thought Milton. tions and bounds of nature; imparts to maOf all God's gifts of intellect, he esteemed terial objects life, and sentiment, and emopoetical genius the most transcendant. He, tion, and invests the mind with the powers esteemed it in himself as a kind of inspira- and splendours of the outward creation; detion, and wrote his great works with some- scribesthe surroundinguniverse inthe colours thing of' the conscious dignity of a prophet. which the passions throw over it, and depicts We agree with Milton in his estimate of po- the mind in those modes of repose or agitaetry. It seems to us the divinest of all arts; tion, of tenderness or sublime emotion, which for it is the breathing or expression of that manifest its thirst for a more powerful and principle or sentiment, which is deepest and joyful existence. To a man of a literal and sublimest in human nature; we mean of prosaic character, the mind may seem lawthat thirst or aspiration, to which no mind is less in these workings; but it observes higher wholly a stranger, for something purer and -aws than it transgresses, the laws of the lovelier, something more powerful, lofty, and immortal intellect; it is trying and developthrilling than ordinary and real life affords. ing its best faculties; and in the objects No doctrine is more common among Chris- which it describes, or in the emotions which it tians than that of man's immortality, but it awakens, anticipates those states of progresis not so generally understood, that the sive power, splendour, beauty and happigerms or principles of his whole future being ness, for which it was created. CHARACTERISTICS OF POETRY. 9 "We accordingly believe that poetry, so there is a wisdom against which poetry far from injuring society, is one of the great wars, the wisdom of the senses, which makes instruments of its refinement and exaltation. physical comfort and gratification the suIt lifts the mind above ordinary life; gives preme good, and wealth the chief interest of it a respite from depressing cares, and awak- life, we do not deny; nor do we deem it the ens the consciousness of its affinity with least service which poetry renders to manwhat is pure and noble. In its legitimate kind, that it redeems them from the thraldom and highest efforts, it has the same tendency of this earth-born prudence. But passing and aim with Christianity; that is, to spirit- over this topic, we would observe, that the ualize our nature. True, poetry has been complaint against poetry as abounding in made the instrument of vice, the pander of illusion and deception, is in the main, groundbad passions; but when genius thus stoops, less. In many poems, there is more truth it dims its fires, and parts with much of its than in many histories and philosophic theopower; and even when poetry is enslaved ries. The fictions of genius are often the to licentiousness or misanthropy, she cannot vehicles of the sublimest verities, and its wholly forget her true vocation. Strains of flashes often open new regions of thought, pure feeling, touches of tenderness, images and throw new light on the mysteries of our of innocent happiness, sympathies with suf- being. In poetry, the letter is falsehood, but fering virtue, bursts of scorn or indignation the spirit is often profoundest wisdom. And at the hollowness of the world, passages if truth thus dwells in the boldest fictions of true to our moral nature, often escape in an the poet, much more may it be expected in immoral work, and show us how hard it is his delineations of life; for the present life, for a gifted spirit to divorce itself wholly which is the first stage of the immortal mind,'from what is good. Poetry has a natural abounds in the materials of poetry; and it is alliance with our best affections. It delights the high office of the bard to detect this divine in the beauty and sublimity of the outward element among the grosser labours and creation and of the soul. It indeed portrays pleasures of our earthly being. The present with terrible energy the excesses of the pas- life is not wholly prosaic, precise, tame, and sions; but they are passions which show a finite. To the gifted eye, it abounds in the mighty nature, which are full of power, poetic. The affections which spread beyond which command awe, and excite a deep, ourselves, and stretch far into futurity; the though shuddering sympathy. Its great workings of mighty passions, which seem to tendency and purpose is, to carry the mind arm the soul with almost super-human enbeyond and above the beaten, dusty, weary ergyi the innocent and irrepressible joy of walks of ordinary life; to lift it into a purer infancy; the bloom, and buoyancy, and element; and to breathe into it more pro- dazzling hopes of youth; the throbbings of found and generous emotion. It reveals to the heart, when it first wakes to love, and us the loveliness of nature, brings back the dreams of a happiness too vast for earth; freshness of youthful feeling, revives the re- woman, with her beauty, and grace, and lish of simple pleasures, keeps unquenched gentleness, and fulness of feeling, and depth the enthusiasm which warmed the spring- of affection, and her blushes of purity, and time of our being, refines youthful love, the tones and looks which only a mother's strengthens our interest in human nature by heart can inspire;-these are all poetical. vivid delineations of its tenderest and loftiest It is not true that the poet paints a life which feeling, knits us by new ties with universal does not exist; he only extracts and concenbeing, and through the brightness of its pro- trates, as it were, life's ethereal essence; phetic visions, helps faith to lay hold on the arrests and condenses its volatile fragrance, future life, brings together its scattered beauties, and " We are aware that it is objected to poe- prolongs its more refined but evanescent try, that it gives wrong views, and excites joys; and in this he does well; for it is good false expectations of life; peoples the mind to feel that life is not wholly usurped by cares with shadows and illusions, and.builds up for subsistence, and physical gratifications, imagination on the ruins of wisdom. That but admits, in measures which may be in 10 THE POETRY OF LIFE. definitely enlarged, sentiments, and delights and peeps into every crevice, and up the worthy of a higher being. This power of side of every precipice with eyes, thoughts, poetry to refine our views of life and happi- and memory for nothing but strata; preness, is more and more needed as society cisely as it is presented to his vision then advances. It is needed to withstand the en- and there, without once giving himself time croachments of heartless and artificial man- to draw deductions from what he discovers, ners, which make civilization so tame and to make an extended survey of the distant uninteresting. It is needed to counteract scenery, or to drink in the enjoyment of the the tendency of physical science, which be- magnificent whole. ing now sought, not as formerly for intellec- In the general contemplation of external tual gratification, but for multiplying bodily nature, we feel the influence of Poetry, comforts, requires a new development of im- though chiefly and almost exclusively in obagination, taste, and poetry, to preserve men jects which are, in themselves or their assofrom sinking into an earthly, material, Epi- ciations, beautiful or sublime. Thus, we curean life." are pleased with a widely extended view, even over a level country, purely because the sublime idea of space is connected with it; but let this expanse be travelled over, closely inspected, and regarded in its minutia, WHY CERTAIN OBJECTS ARE, OR ARE and it becomes indescribably wearisome and NOT, POETICAL, monotonous. The fact is, the idea of space is lost, while the attention is arrested and THAT a book, a picture andC sometimes a absorbed by immediate and minor circumvery worthy man, are without Poetry, is a stances. The mind is incapable of feeling fact almost as deeply felt, and as well under- two opposite sensations at the same time, stood, as the memorable anathema of Shak- and all impressions made upon the senses speare against the man who had not music being so much more quick and sudden than in his soul. In many books this is no de- those made through them upon the imagifeet; in all pictures it is a striking and im- nation, they have the power to attract and portant one; while in men it can only be a carry away the attention in the most pedefect proportioned to the high standing remptory and vexatious manner. All subthey may choose to take in the scale of in- jects intended to inspire admiration or revetellect or feeling. The spirit of Poetry has rence, must therefore be treated with the little to do with the labours of the artisan, most scrupulous regard to refinement. It is nor would our tables be more plentifully so easy for the vulgar touch to supplied, were they furnished under the direction of thle muses. But who would feel ("Turn what was once romantic to bulrlesque." even the slightest gratification in reading A tone of ridicule may at once dispel the Wordsworth's Excursion, with a compa- charm of tenderness, and a senseless parody nion, who could not feel poetically? or who may for awhile destroy the sublimity of a would choose to explore the wild and mag- splendid poem. nificent beauties of mountain scenery, with Among the works of art, the influence of one whose ideas were bounded by the limits poetic feeling is most perceptible in painting of the Bank of England? and sculpture. A picture sometimes pleases When our nature is elevated above the from a secret charm which cannot well be mere objects of sense, there is a want created defined, and which arises not so much from in us of something, which the business of the proper adjustment of colour and outline the world, nay, even science itself, is unable according to the rules of art, as from the sudto supply; for not only is the bustling man den, mysterious, and combined emotions of business an unwelcome associate in the which the sight of it awakens in the soul. wilderness of untrodden beauty, but even he But let any striking departure from these becomes wearisome at last, who applies his rules arrest the attention, let the eye be ofnoisy hammer to every projection of rock, fended by the colouring, and the taste POETICAL SUBJECTS. 1 chocked by the grouping or perspective- bosom: yet, following this emblem of tranthe illusion is destroyed, and the poet awakes quillity into after life, we see him exposed to from his dream. It is precisely the same every climate-contending with every obwith sculpture, that most sublime production stacle-agitated by every passion; and unof the hand of man, which, by its cold, still, der these various circumstances, how differmarble beauty, unawakened by the shocks ent is the power and the degree of the heart's of time, unmoved by the revolutions of the action, which has not only to beat, but to world, has power to charm the wandering beat time through every moment of a long thoughts, and inspire sensations of deep re- and troubled life.'?* verence and awe. But let us suppose the We feel in reading this passage, even if enthusiast returning to gaze upon the sta- we have never felt before, that there is poetry tue, which has been, through years of wan- in an infant's sleep. Its waking moments dering, little less than an idol to his enrap- are less poetical, because of the many little tured fancy, and that hands profane (for cares and vexations they force upon us; and such things are) have presumed to colour no power on earth could convince us that the pupils of the up-turned eyes-let any there was poetry in an infant's cry. Yet is other sensation whatever, directly at vari- it neither softness nor sweetness which alance with what the figure itself is calculated ways constitutes the poetry of sound; for to inspire, be made to strike the attention of what can be more discordant in itself than the beholder, and he is plunged at once down the caw of the rook, the scream of the seathat fatal and irrevocable step, which leads gull, or the bleating of the lamb? from the sublime to the ridiculous. There is poetry in the low-roofed cottage The human face, the most familiar object standing on the skirts of the wood, beneath to our eyes, since they first opened upon the the overshadowing oak, around which the world, may be, and often is, highly poetical. children of many generations have gamWho has not seen amidst the multitude some bolled, while the wreathing smoke coils up countenance to which he turns, and turns amongst the dark green foliage, and the gray again, with strange wonder and delight, as- thatch is contrasted with golden moss and signing to it an appropriate character and glittering ivy. We stand and gaze, deplace in scenes even the most remote from lighted with this picture of rural peace, and the present, and following up, in idea, the privileged seclusion. We long to shake off different trains of thought by which its ex- the shackles of artificial society, the wearypression is varied, and its intelligence com- ing cares of life, the imperative control of municated? Yet this face may not be in fashion, or the toil and traffic of the busy itself, or strictly speaking, beautiful; but, world, and to dwell for the remainder of our like the painting or the statue, it has the days in a quiet spot like this, where affecpower to awaken the most pleasing associa- tion, that is too often lost in the game of life, tions. With such power there can be com- might unfold her store of fire-side comforts, bined no mixture of the grotesque or vulgar; and where we and ours might constitute one for, though poetry may be ridiculous, it is unbroken chain of social fellowship, under impossible for the ridiculous to be poetical. the shelter of security and peace. But let There is Poetry in an infant's sleep. How us enter this privileged abode. Our ears much, let abler words than mine describe. are first saluted by the sharp voice of the "So motionless in its slumbers, that, in matron, calling in her tattered rebels from watching it, we tremble, and become impa- the common. They are dragged in by viotient for some stir or sound, that may assure lence, and a scene of wrath and contention us of its life; yet is the fancy of the little ensues. The fragments of the last meal are sleeper busy, an*d every artery and every scattered on the floor. That beautifully pulse of its frame engaged in the work and curling smoke, before it found a way to esgrowth of secretion, though his breath would cape so gracefully has made many a circuit not stir the smallest insect that sported on round the dark and crumbling walls of the his lips-though his pulse would not lift the flower leaf of which he dreamed from his'Dr. James Willson. 12 _________________________________ I. — 12 THE POETRY OF LIFE. apartment; and smoke within the house is and skill, there are few things more poetical any thing but poetical, whatever it may be than the aspect of a ship at sea, whether she without. Need I say the charm is broken? goes forth with swelling sails before the Even after having made good our retreat, wind, or lies becalmed upon a quiet shore. if we turn and look again, the low-roofed Even the simplest or rudest vessels floating cottage does not appear the same as when on the surface of the water-from the lazy we first beheld it. The associations are barge that glides along the smooth canal, to changed-the charm is indeed broken. May the light gondola that sports among the not this be t-e reason why fine ladies and glowing waters of more classic shoresgentlemen talk so much more about the from the simple craft that ply upon our own poetry of a cottage, than those who know rivers, to the rude canoe of the savage dartno other home comforts than a cottage af- ing among reefs of coral; afford choice subfords? Even poverty itself may be poetical jects for the painter's pencil, and the poet's to those who merely regard it from a dis- song. Who has not watched with intense tance, or as a picture; but the vision is dis- interest a little speck upon the ocean, that pelled for ever by the first gripe of that iron neared, and neared, until human forms at hand, that spares neither the young, the length were visible, and then the splash of helpless, nor the old. the oar was heard at regular intervals, and, There is poetry in the mouldering pile, at last, on the crest of a foaming wave, the upon which the alternate suns and storms of boat seemed to bound triumphant on the a thousand years have smiled and spent shore, where a little band of the long-tried the;r fury-the old gray ruin hung over with and the faithful, amongst whom woman is festoonm of ivy, while around its broken tur- never found wanting, welcome the mariners rets a garland of wild plants is growing, home, safe from the storms and the dangers from seeds which the wandering winds have of the sea? Who has not stood upon the scatter( d. We behold the imperishable beach, a silent, but deeply interested spectamaterials of the natural world collected tor, while a crew of hardy and weathertogether, shaped out and formed by the art beaten sailors launched forth their little bark of man into that beautiful and majestic edi- amongst the roaring breakers, battling their fice; but where are the ready hands that way through foam and surge, now dipping laboured in that work of time and patience? into the dark hollows between every swell, The busy feet that trod those stately courts and then rising unharmed upon the snowy — the laughter that echoed through those crest of the raging billows. A few moments halls-the sighs that were breathed in those more of determined struggle, and the diffisecret cells-the many generations that culty is overcome; and now they have hoistcame and went without leaving a record or ed sail and are gone bounding over the dark a name —where are they? Scarcely can blue waters, perhaps never to return. Who there be found an imagination so dull, but has not marked, while gazing on the surface the contemplation of a ruin will awaken it to of the silent lake when the moon was shining, some dim and dreamy associations with past that long line of trembling light that looks ages-scarcely a heart so callous, but it will like a pathway to a better world, suddenly feel, in connexion with such a scene, some broken by the intervention of some object touch of that melancholy which inspired the that proves to be a boat, in which human memorable exclamation "All is vanity and forms are discernible, though distant, yet vexation of spirit!" marked out with a momentary distinctnecs, But let the ingenuity of man erect a mod- which affords imagination a fund of associaern ruin, or mock monastery, arch for arch, tions, connecting those unknown objects so and pillar for pillar-nay, let him, if possi- quickly seen, and then lost for ever, with ble, plant weed for weed. The fancy will vague speculations about what they are or not be cheated into illusion-this mushroom have been, from whence they have so sudtoy of yesterday will remain a mockery denly emerged, to what unseen point of illistill. mitable space they may be destined, and Amongst the labours of man's ingenuity what may be the darkness, or the radiance POETICAL SUBJECTS. 13 of' their future course. Or who has ever of terror in motion, and sublimity in repose: witnessed the departure of a gallant vessel but more than all, the ships that go forth upunder favouring skies, bound on a distant on its bosom convey to our fancy the idea of and uncertain voyage, her sails all trim, her being influenced by an instinct of their own; rigging tight, her deck well manned, her so well ordered are all their movements, so cargo secure as human skill and foresight can perfect appears the harmony of their conmake it, while she stoops one moment with struction and design, yet so hidden by the unabated majesty, to rise more proudly the obscurity of the distance is the moving prinnext, bursting through the ruffled waters, ciple within, that by their own faith they and dashing from her sides the feathery seem to trust themselves where the foot of foam; without thinking of a proud and reck- man dare not tread, and by their own hope less spirit rushing forth on its adventurous they seem to be lured on to some distant career, unconscious of the rocks and shoals, point which the eye of man is unable to disthe rude gales and the raging tempests, that cern. await its onward course. Or who, without In a widely extended sea view there is una thrill of something more than earthly feel- questionably poetry enough to inspire the ing, can gaze over the unruffled surface of happiest lays, but the converse of this picthe sea when the winds are sleeping, and the ture is easily drawn-and fatal to the poet's waves at rest, except on the near voyage of song would be the first view of the interior the blue expanse, where a gentle murmur, of any one of those gallant and stately ships with regularebb andflowof soothing andmo- about which we have been dreaming. The notonsus sound marks the intervals at which moving principle within, respecting which a line of sleepy waves rise, and fall, and fol- we have had such refined imaginings, is now low each other, without pause or intermis- imbodied in a company of hardy sailors, sion, far up along the sparkling shore, and whose rude laughter, and ruder oaths, are then recede into the depths of the smooth and no less discordant to our ear, than offensive shining waters. to our taste. It is true, that a certain kind The sun is high in the heavens-the air is of order and discipline prevails amongst clear and buoyant-now and then a white them, but the wretched passengers below cloud sails along the field of azure, its misty are lost for a time to all mental sensations, form marked out in momentary darkness on and suffering or sympathizing with them, the sea below, like the passing shadow of an we soon forget the poetry of life. angel's wings; while far, far in the distance, There is poetry in the gush of sparkling and gliding on towards the horizon, are waters that burst forth from the hill-side those wandering messengers of the deep that in some lonely and sequestered spot, and bear tidings from shore to shore, their swell- flow on in circling eddies amongst the rocks ing sails now glancing white in the sun- and fern, and tendrils of wild plants; on, on beams, now darkened by the passing cloud. for ever-unexhausted, and yet perpetually Musing on such a scene, we forget our own losing themselves in the bosom of the silent identity-our own earthly, bodily existence; and majestic river, where the hurry and we live in a world of spirits, and are lost in murmur of their course is lost, like the restexquisite imaginings, in memories and hopes less passions that agitate the breast of man that belong not to the things of clay; every in the ocean of eternity: and there is poetry thing we behold is personified and gifted in the burst of the cataract that comes over with intelligence; the rugged cliffs pos- the brow of the precipice with a seenting sess a terrible majesty, and seem to threaten consciousness of its own power to bear down, while they frown upon the slumbering shore; and to subdue. the deep and boundless sea, represented at It is related of Richard Wilson, that when all times as acting or suffering by its own he first beheld the celebrated falls of Terni, i will or power, is now more than ever endued he exclaimed " Well done, water!" Here, with he thoughts and passions of spiritual indeed, was no poetry-no association. His existence, and seems to speak to us in its mind was too full of that mighty object as own solemn and most intelligible language it first struck upon his senses, to admit at the 14 THE POETRY OF LIFE. moment of any relative idea; his exclama- of varied hue shooting up from leafy beds, tion was one of mere animal surprise, such and pointing faithfully to the shining sky i as his dog might have uttered, had he pos- or crowns of golden splendour mounted sessed the organs of speech. And yet the upon fragile stems; or purple wreaths that same man, when he seized his pencil, and never touched a human brow; all bursting gave up his imagination to the full force of forth, blooming and then fading, with endthose impressions which, if we may judge less succession in the midst of untrodden by his works, few have felt more intensely, wilds;-in rain and sunshine, in silent night, was able to portray nature, not merely seen and glowing day, with an end and purpose as it is in any given section of the earth's in their brief existence inscrutable to the surface, but to group together, and embody mind of man. in one scene, all that is most harmonious in The flowers of the garden, though posthe quickly changing and diversified beauties sessing more richness and gorgeous beauty, of wood and water-hill and valley-sombre are less poetical, because we see too clearly shade and glowing sunshine-deep solitudes, in their arrangement and culture, the art and resplendent heavens. and labour of man; we are reminded at There is poetry in the hum of bees, when every group of the work of the spade, and the orchards are in bloom, and the sun is perceive at once and without mystery, why shining in unclouded spendour upon the they have been planted in the exact spot waving meadows, and the garden is rich- where they now grow. ly spangled with spring flowers. There There is poetry in the first contemplation is poetry in the hum of the bee, because it of those numerous islands which gem the brings back to us, as in a dream, the memo- southern ocean-poetry in the majestic hills ry of bygone days, when our hearts were that rise one above another, their varied alive to the happiness of childhood-the time peaks and precipices clear and bright in when we could lie down upon the green bank unclouded sunshine, and their very summits and enjoy the stillness of summer's noon, clothed with unfading verdure; while burstwhen our hopes were in the blossoms of the ing from amongst their deep recesses are orchard, our delight in the sun-shine, our un- innumerable streams that glide down their tiring rambles in the meadows, and our per- rugged sides, nayglancing out like threads petual amusement in the scented flowers. of silver, now hidd~ in shade and darkness, Since these days, time has rolled over us until they find their way into the broad and with such a diversity of incident, bringing silent lagoon, where the angry surf subsides,. so many changes in our modes of living and and the mountains, woods, ad streams, are thinking, that we have learned, perhaps at seen again reflected in the glay mirror of some cost, to analyze our feelings, and to the unruffled water-unruffled, sate by the say, rather than feel, that there is poetry in rapid gliding of the light canoe, thea darts the hum of bees. among the coral rocks, and then lies mnbqred But let one of these honey-laden wander- in still water beneath some stately tree, ers find his way into our apartment, and whose leafy boughs form a welcome canopy while he struggles with frantic effobrts to of shade for the luxuriant revellers in that escape through the closed window, we cease sunny clime. to find pleasure in his busy hum. Time was when those who had rejoiced There is poetry in the flowers that grow over the first contemplation of this scene in sweet profusion upon wild and unculti- were compelled to mourn over the contrast! vated spots of earth, exposing their delicate which ignorance and barbarism presented leaves to the tread of the rude inhabitants on a nearer view, but now, blessed be the 3 of the wilderness, and spreading forth their power that can harmonize the heart of man scented charms to the careless' mountain with all that is grateful and genial- in the vind —in the thousand, thousand little stars external world, the traveller approaching, of beauty looking forth like eyes, with no and beholding this lovely picture, need no eye to look again; or cups that seem formed longer shrink from the horrors which a to catch the dew drops; or spiral pyramids closer inspection formerly revealed. POETICAL SUBJECTS. 15, If external nature abounds with poetry, be able to expatiate in the realms of nature hlow much more forcibly does it pervade with the most perfect fruition of delight. the faculties and sentiments of the human nrLtid. Consider only three —love, hope, and memory. TWhat power even inl the visions of the alchemist was ever able to transform like the passion of love? Invest- INDIVIDUAL ASSOCIATIONS. ing what is real with all that we desire, converting deformity into loveliness, ex- THE difference of taste not unfreauently changing discord for harmony, giving to the found in persons whose station and habits I eye the exquisite faculty of beautifying of life are similar may be attributed both to whatever it beholds, and to the ear a secret individual conformation, and to those incharm that turns every sound to music. stances of early bias received from local cirAnd hope would be hope no longer if it did cumstances which none can remember, and not paint the future in the colours we most which, consequently, no pen can record. admire. Its very existence depends upon That variety of taste is chiefly owing to the the power it possesses to sweeten to the influence of association, is shown by those latest dregs, the otherwise bitter cup of life. minor preferences or antipathies which cerYet lbve and hope may be degraded by the tain individuals evince for things possessing false estimate we sometimes form of what is no quality inherent in themselves to justify worthy of our admiration. Passion too such peculiar choice or rejection, and which often asserts her mastery over both, compell- have no co-responding value in the opinion ing her blind and willing slaves to call evil of mankind in general. good, and good evil; while memory, if not Without returning to the days of infancy, always faithful to her trust, is at least dis- when the first impressions were made upon posed to hold it charitably, and thus pre- our senses, when our eyes were first able to serves in their genuine distinctness, the fair- see, and our ears to hear, it would be im-n est passages of life, but kindly obscures possible to trace to their origin all our pecuthose which are most revolting in remem- liarities of taste and feeling, or to assign the brance. In looking back upon the past, precise reason why we are subject to sensahow little that is sordid, mean, or selfish, tions of pleasure or disgust from causes appears conspicuous now. Past hours of which do not influence the rest of mankind simple, every-day enjoymnent, are invested inas similar manner-sensations which, from with a charm they knew not at the time. their singularity, and, to others, apparent A veil is thrown over the petty cares of by- absurdfty, necessarily fall under the stigma gone years-passion is disarmed of its of caprice. earth-born violence, and sorrow looks so Who can say how far his peculiar ideas lovely in the distance, that we almost per- of beauty and melody may have been desuade ourselves it was better to weep such rived from the countenance of the kind nurse tears as we wept then, than to smile as we who first smiled upon him in his cradle, and smile now. the sweet voice that first sung him to sleep; But why pursue this theme? It is evi- or of deformity and discord from the harsh S dent that neither sounds, objects, nor sub- brow whose frowns he first learnedto dread, jects of contemplation are poetical in them- and the voice whose threatening tones were a selves, but in their associations; and that they followed by punishment and pain. i are so just in proportion as these associa- If the taste of one individual is gratified tions are intellectual and refined. Nature is by a picture upon which a strong and vivid full of poetry, from the high mountain to the light is thrown, and another prefers that sheltered valley, from the bleak promontory which exhibits the cool tints of a cloudy atto the myrtle grove, from the star-lit hea- mosphere, it is attributed to some peculiarity vens to the slumbering earth; and the mind in their several organs of sight; but is it not that can most divest itself of ideas and sen- equally possible to be in some measure owsations belongi.ng exclusively to matter, will ing to one having been too much confined to 16 THE POETRY OF LIFE. darkness in his infancy, and the other pain- negro slaves; unless that schoolboys have fully exposed to the glare of too much light? generally enjoyed the honour of naming These may appear but idle speculations, their fathers' dogs, when they were more since we are, and ever must remain in want familiar with C~esar's Commentaries, than of that master key to the human under- with the character of the illustrious Roman. standing-the knowledge of the state of the Why are we not able for many years after infant mind, its degree of susceptibility, and our emancipation, to perceive and relish the the manner in which it first receives impres- beauties of those selections from the ablest sions through the organs of sense. So far poets, which we were compelled to learn by as we can recollect, however, it is clear to heart, as punishments at school? It is beall who will take the trouble to examine the cause our first acquaintance with them was subject, that strong partialities and preju- formed under sensations of pain and compuldices are imbibed in very early life, before sion, which time is long in wearing out. we are capable of reasoning, and that these If, by the mere sound of a name, such difsometimes remain with us to the last. ferent sensations are excited in different There are seldom two persons who agree minds, how much more extensive must be exactly in their admiration of the proper the variety of those called up by words of names of individuals. One approves what more comprehensive signification! Let us the other rejects, and scarcely one instance suppose four individuals-a newly elected in twenty occurs in which their feelings are member of parliament, a tradesman, a pauthe same: nor is it merely the harmony or per, and a poet-each at liberty to pursue discord of the sound which occasions their his own reflections, when the word winter is preference or dislike. Each attaches to the suddenly introduced to his mind. The name in question a distinct character, most statesman immediately thinks of the next probably owing to some association of ide.s convocation of the representatives of the between that name and.a certain individual people, when he shall stand forth to make known in early life; and though they may hIl maiden speech; of the important subhave both known and lived amongs the jects that will, probably, be.aid before the same individuals, it is hardly probable that consideration of the house, of the part he two minds should have regarded them pre- shall feel himnself called upon to take in the cisely in the same manner. Hence from discussion of. these, and how he may be able different associations arises a difference of to act so as to satisfy the claims of his contaste. stituents, and his censcience, without offendIn the present state of society there are ing either. The tra.desman thinks of his few persons who have not, in the course of bills, and his bad debts; of the price of their reading, become familiarized with coals, and the winter fashions. The pauper Scripture names earlier than with any other; thinks-and shivers while he thinks-of the and this, one would suppose, should lead to cold blasts of that inclement reason, of the their being generally preferred and adopted. various signs and prophecies that fortell a Yet so far from this being the case, they are hard winter, and of how much, or rather many of them regarded with a degree of how little the parish overseers will be likely ridicule and disgust, which can only be ac- to allow to his necessities for clothing, food, counted for by our first becoming acquainted and fire. By a slight, and almost instantawith them before we have been inspired neous transition of thought, one of these with love, gratitude, or reverence for the thinkers has already arrived at the idea of Record in which they are found. Nor is it conscience, another at that of fashion, and a' easy to account for the perversion of the third at that of fire. But the poet (provided fine, full-sounding Roman names, in their he be not identified with the pauper) passusual application to our dogs, and other ani- ing over subjects of merely local interest, mals; and next to them to those miserable knows no bounds to his associations. His outcasts from human fellowship, which a lively and unshackled fancy first carries him professedly Christian world has deemed northward, to those frozen regions which unworthy of a Christian nomenclature-the man has visited but in thought. Here he INDIVIDUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 17 floats through the thin and piercing air, then before his mind's eye the picture of a brilglides upon a sea of ice, or looks down from liant subset, he insensibly recalls that scenhills of everlasting snow; until wearied with ery in the midst of which his youthful imagithe voiceless solitude, he seeks the abodes nation was first warmed into poetic life by' Df man, and follows the fur-clad Laplander the " golden day's deeline." He sees, bright with his faithful reindeer over trackless and and gorgeous with sunbeams, the distant uncultivated wastes. But the poet, though hill, which his boyish fancy taught him to a wanderer by profession, yet still faithful to believe it would be the height of happiness home and early attachments, returns after to climb;-the sombre woods that skirt the every wayward excursion to drink of his na- horizon-the valley, misty and indistinct betive well, and to enjoy the peace of his pa- low —the wandering river, whose glancing ternal hearth. Here, in the clime he loves waters are here and there touched as they best, he beholds a scene of picturesque and gleam out, with the radiance of the resplenfamiliar beauty-a still and cloudless morn- dent west-and while memory paints again ing, when the hoar frost is glittering upon the long deep shadows of the trees that every spray, and the trees, laden with a grew around his father's dwelling, he feels fleecy burden, cast their deep shadows here the calm of that peaceful hour mingling with and there upon the silvery and unsullied bo- the thousand associations that ccmbine to som of the sheeted earth. He sees the soli- formhismostvivid and poetical ideaofsunset. tary robin perched upon the leafless thorn, In this manner we not unfrequently single and hears its winter song of melancholy out from the works of art some favorite obsweetness-that plaintive touching strain to ject, upon which we bestow an interest so which every human bosom echoes with a deep, a regard so earnest, that they wear sad response. But quickly comes the roar- the character of admiration which no pering blast, like a torrent rushing down from ceptible quality in the object itself can justify, the hills. The light snow is tossed like foam and which other beholders are unable to unupon the waves of the wind; and the moun- derstand. In a collection of paintings we tain pine, shaking off the frosty spangles look around for those which are most worfrom his boughs, for one moment quails be- thy of general notice, when suddenly our fore the fury of the thundering tempest, and attention is struck with one little unpretendthen stands erect again upon the craggy ing picture, almost concealed in an obscure steep, where his forefathers have stood for corner, and totally unobserved by any one ages. Night gathers in with darkness and beside. It is the representation of a village dismay, and while the moaning of the ven- church-the very church where we first erable oak resounds through the forest like learned to feel, and, in part, to understand the voice of a mighty and unseen spirit, and the solemnity of the Sabbath. Beside its the bellowing of the blast seems mingled venerable walls are the last habitations of with the wilder shrieks of bewildered travel- our kiudred; and beneath that dark and lers, or seamen perishing on the deep, the mournful yew is the ancient pastor's grave. poet beholds in the distance the glimmering Here is the winding path so familiar to our lights of some hospitable mansion, and in an steps, when we trod the earth more lightly instant he is transported to a scene of happi- than we do now-the stile on which the iitness, glowing with social comforts, festivity, tie orphan girl used to sit, while her brothers and glee; where the affrighted wanderer were at play-and the low bench beside the finds safety, the weary are welcomed to re- cottage-door, where the ancient dame used pose, and the wretched exchange their tears to pore over her Bible in the bright sunfor joy. shine. Perhaps the wheels of Time have Impresm:ons made upon our minds by lo- rolled over us with no gentle pressure s:rnce cal circumstances, are frequently of so deep we lastbeheld that scene,-perhaps the darkand durable a nature, as to outlive all the ness of our present lot rI akes the brightness accidents of chance and change which oc- of the past more bright. Whatever the cure to us in after life. Should the poet, or cause may be, out gaze is fixed and fascithe painter in his study, endeavour to place nated, and we turn away from the more 2 ! 18 THE POETRY OF LIFE. wonderful productions of art, to muse upon though quite as common, and equally nathat little picture again, and again, when all tural, is not so generally understood. The but ourselves have passed it by without a room may be the least commodious in the thought. house, the table the least convenient, the It is no:, however, the earliest impressions chair the least easy, yet they are valuedT made upon the mind which are always the not the less, because they are associated most lasting or vivid. We are all subject with the image of one who was more dear, to the influence of strong and overpowering perhaps more dear than any one will ever associations with circumstances which occur be again. in after life, and of which we retain a clear I have known the first wild rose of sumrecolle3tion. We are apt to be deeply, yet mer gathered with such faithful recollecdifferently affected by certain kinds of music. tions, such deep and earnest love, such In the same apartment, and while the same yearnings of the heart for by-gone pleasures, air is sung or played by a minstrel un- that for a moment its beauty was obscured conscious of its secret power, and some of the by falling tears. The tolling of a bell after audience will be thrown into raptures of de- it has been heard for a departed friend, has light, applauding and calling forth the strain a tone of peculiar and painful solemnity. again with unabated enjoyment; while one, The face of one whom we have met with in whose sad heart the springs of memory comparative indifference in a season of hapare opened, will turn away unnoticed in that piness, is afterwards hailed with delight happy crowd, to hide the tears which the when it is all that remains to us of the past. thoughts of home and early days, when that The pebble that was gathered on a distant strain was first heard, have called forth from shore, becomes valuable as a gem when we the eyes of a stranger in a strange land. " If know that we shall visit that land no more. I might always listen to that tune," ex- There is no sound, however simple or sweet, claims one, " I should never know unhappi- that may not be converted into discord when ness again!" " Spare me that song of it calls up jarring sensations in the mind; mirth," is the secret prayer of the stranger; nor is there any melody in nature compara" it belongs to my own country. It tells me ble to the tones of the voice that has once of the beauty and gladness of my native land. spoken to the heart. Spare me that song of mirth; for my heart Rosseau wept on beholding the little comis sorrowful, and I am alone." mon flower that we call periwinkle. He Innumerable are the instances of daily, wept because he was alone, and it reminded and almost hourly. occurrence, in which we him of the beloved friend at whose feet it perceive that some particular tone of feeling had been gathered. I remember being afis excited, but know not whence it takes its fected by this circumstance at a very early rise; as we listen to the wild music of the age, and the association has become so _,Eolian harp, that vanes perpetua'ly from powerful, that, in looking at this flower, I one melody to another. We see the thrill- always feel a sensation of melancholy, and ing chords, we hear the sweet and plaintive persuade myself that the pale blue star, half sound, but we know not with all our wisdom concealed beneath the dark green leaves, is what particular note the unseen minstrel like a soft blue eye that scarcely ventures to will next produce, nor can we calculate the look up from beneath the gloom of sorrow. vibrations caused by his powerful but invisi- The crowing of the cock is generally conble hand. sidered a lively and cheering sound; yet Ii When we hear the tender and affectionate knew one, who for many years could not expressicn, " I love this book because it was hear a cock crow at midnight without senmy mother's," we know at once why a book sations of anguish and horror, because it had approved by a mother's judgment should be once been painfully forced upon her notice valued by a child; but when we hear any while she was watching the dead. one say, "I prefer this room, this table, or A gentleman of my acquaintance, in speakthis chair, to all others, because they be- ing to me of his mother's death, which wag longed to my mother," the expression sudden and unexpected, described the day INDIVIDUAL ASSOCIATIONS. 19 on which this event took place, as one of to one or two, but from wh'ch all others are those periods in our existence when the shut out. Books are selected, and read mind seems incapable of feeling what it aloud to those who will not listen. Pictures knows to be a painful truth. He had re- are exhibited to those who cannot see their i tred to rest, with an indistinct idea of what beauty. Pleasures are proposed, which ] had occurred, but remained unable to realize from their want of adaptation, are converted the extent of his calamity. It had been his into pain. Kind intentions are frustrated; mother's custom to take away his candle and the best endeavours to be agreeable, every night-perhaps to breathe a prayer rewarded with disappointment and ingratiat his bed side. As he laid his head upon tude. In short, for want of that discriminathe pillow, he saw the light standing as ting, versatile, and most valuable quality usual, but no gentle form approached, and which mankind have agreed to call tact, in an instant he felt the full force of his be- and which might be fancifully described as reavement. He was setting off in life with the nerve of human society, many opportubrighter hopes than fall to the lot of many; nities of enjoyment are wasted, many good but that first and purest of earth's blessings people are neglected, and many good things -a mother's love, was lost to him for ever. are irrevocably lost. Associations of this kind, however, are not It would be hard indeed if we might not such as constitute the fittest subjects for the indulge our individual fancies, by each poet; because, from their local or particular mounting the hobby we like best. The abnature, they excite no general interest. surdity consists in compelling others to ride They may be powerful in the mind of the with us, in forcing our favourites upon their writer, but will fail to awaken in other minds regard, and expecting from them the same a proportionate degree of feeling; except tribute of admiration which we ourselves when the sensible object, or particular fact bestow..There is no moral law to prevent described, is introduced merely as a medium our being delighted with what is repulsive for subjects of a nature to be generally felt to others; but it is an essential part of good and understood, such as memory, hope, or manners, to keep back from the notice of love. Thus, the Poet may properly address society such particular preferences-a great an object of which he alone perceives the proof of good taste, so to discipline our feelbeauty, or describe a circumstance of which ings, that we derive the most enjoyment he alone feels the pathos, provided he does from what is generally pleasing. not dwell too long upon the object or circumstance, merely as such, but carries the mind onward, by some ingenious association, to recollections which they naturally recall, hopes which were then cherished, or love, GENERAL ASSOCIATIONS. whose illimitable nature may be connected with all things lovely. By dwelling exclu- IN turning our attention to the subject of sively upon one subject of merely local inter- general associations, we enter upon a field est, and neglecting such relative ideas as so wide and fertile, that to select suitable are common to all, the most egregious blun- materials for examination appears the only ders, in matters of taste, are every day com- difficulty. All our most powerful and submitted. Witticisms are uttered, which, how- lime ideas are common to mankind in a civever entertaining to those who know to what ilized state, and arise in the minds of countcircumstances they owe their value, excite less multitudes from the same causes. By j no corresponding risibility in the wondering the stupendous phenomena of nature, as well o: nsensible hearers. Anecdotes are re- as by the magnificent productions of art, we lated, which, from being out of place or ill- are all affected according to our various detimed, seem to fall from the lips of the grees of capability in precisely the same speaker as a wearisome and empty sound. manner. We all agree in the impressions Subjects of conversation are introduced in we receive from extreme cases, whether mixed society, perhaps, intensely interesting they belong to the majestic or the minute; 20 TTHE POETRY OF LIFE. and no one who retained the possession of draw upon when occasion may require, cr his reason would be excited to laughter by a as a secret lamp from which he may somethunder storm, or to awe and reverence by times borrow light to rekindle his imaginathe tricks of a merry-andrew. But there are tion, launches forth into the world of thought, medium cases of a minor and more dubious and extracts from all existing or imaginable nature, in which the poet's discriminating things that ethereal essense, which beautieye can oest distinguish what is exalted or fies the aspect of nature, elevates the soul of refined, puerile or base; and consequently man, and gives even to his every day exiswhat is most worthy of his genius. Nor let tence such intensity of enjoyment, as those him who has openly committed himself in who look at facts only as they are recorded, verse, believe that such distinction entitles and study matter merely as it is, can never him to make laws for his own accommoda- know. tion, and observe or transgress the establish- General associations must therefore occued rules of taste just as his own fancy may py an important place in the consideration dictate. The same celestial fire which of all who would study the poetry of life; prompts his lay is warming humbler blos- nor will such deem their time misspent in soms unmarked amongst the crowd; and following up a close examination of some mingled with the dense multitude which he particular subjects with reference to this esdisdains are countless poets uncommitted, sential point. who constitute a tribunal from which there Let us first consider that well known and is no appeal; who must eventually sit in familiar object, the human face, of which judgment upon his works, give the tone to even single and distinct features have frepublic opinion, and pronouncing his irrevo- quently been thought sufficiently important cable doom, consign him to oblivion or to to inspire the poet's lay. From the earliest fame. times, the forehead has been dignified with Those who have taken little pains to in- a kind of personality, and regarded as an quire into the nature and origin of their index to the character of man, whether bold mental sensations, often express instantane- or bland, threatening or benign, disturbed or ously a correct judgment of works of art, serene: nor is it in language peculiar to the from what they would be very likely to call poets only, that we speak of a man confronta kind of instinct or intuitive perception of ing his enemies with undaunted brow-or what is right or wrong; but which might that he receives his sentence of punishment more philosophically be referred to combi- with a forehead undisturbed-that we are nations of ideas derived from certain impres- encouraged to hope for mercy by the bland sions associated, compared, and established or benign forehead of the judge-or bear by a process of the mind which they took no adversity with a brow serene. Physlognonote of at the time, and with which they have mists profess to read the natural character of never made themselves acquainted. Of such man chiefly from the form of his forehead; is a great proportion of the-multitude com- but whether studied scientifically or not, posed; and it is this fact which gives to pub- we all know in an instant what is indicated lic opinion that overpowering weight against by the simultaneous contraction and lowerwhich no single critic, or even select body of ing of the brow; we know also, without critics, can prevail. much assistance from study of any kind, The poet who is not a blind enthusiast, when the nature of the forehead is noble or will learn by experience, if he know not with- mean, harsh or mild; we naturally look to out, that the public taste must be consulted the upper part of the face, m order to form in order to recommend himself to public ap- those instantaneous opinions of our fellowprobation. He therefore gives himself up to creatures at first sight, which are not unfrethe study of what is universally regarded as quently a near approach to truth; and we most ennobling, touching, or sublime. He may, with some degree of certainty, read in endeavors to forget himself, and setting the forehead, when at rest, what are the aside the pains and pleasures of his own principal elements of character in those limited experience as a little private store to with whom we associate. But scarcely can [ GENERAL ASSOCIATIONS. 21 a feenng be excited, or a passion stirred, than there the confirmation of her strange tones the muscles of the forehead are agitated by of anger or reproof, and if there is no cona corresponding movement. How suddenly demnation in that oracle of truth, he feels and strongly is the forehead affected by as- that her words are but empty threats, rei tonishment! and even in listening attentive- turns to his gambols, and laughs agair ly to a common story, the eyebrows are occa- The lover knows that his earnest suit is resionally elevated, and thus afford a sure jected if the eye of his mistress has no reindication that the hearer is interested, and lenting in its glance; and the criminal who that the narrator may proceed. How strik- pleads for some mitigation of his sentence, ing is the contraction of the forehead in deep looks for mercy in the eye of the judge. and earnest thought! How unspeakably It would be a fruitless expenditure of mournful under the gloom of sorrow! How words to set about establishing the fact, frightfully distorted by the violence of rage! that the eye is poetical. Every poet capaHow solemn and yet how lovely in its char- ble of stringing a rhyme has proved it to acter of intellectual beauty! It is difficult the world; every heart capable of feeling to connect one idea of a gross or corporeal has acknowledged it to be true. nature with the forehead; all its indications But while thousands and tens of thousanlds are those of mind, and most of them of a are poetizing about the eye, no one dares powerful, refined, or elevated character; venture upon the nose; a fact which can from the Madonna, whom no painter has only be accounted for by our having no thought worthy of a high degree of intellec- intellectual associations with this member, tual grace, yet whose forehead invariably and being accustomed to regard it merely indicates a character mild, delicate, and pure, for its sense of smell or as an essential orto the dying gladiator, whose expiring an- nament to the face. The nose is incapable guish is less of the body than of the mind. of expressing any emotion of mind, except The forehead, therefore, is a subject well those which are vulgar or grotesque-such fitted for the poet's pen, and he may sing of as laughter or gross impertinence. It is its various qualifications without fear of true, the nostrils are distended by any effort transgressing the rules of good taste. of daring, but it is rather with animal than The eye is poetical in a still higher de- moral courage, such as might animate a gree, because it possesses a greater facility barbarian or a horse. It is indeed a curious, in adapting itself to present circumstances, but incontrovertible fact, that while the enand reveals in greater minuteness and va- raptured slave of beauty is at liberty to riety the passions and affections of the mind. expend his poetic fire in composing sonnets Indeed, so perfect is the eye as an organ of to his lady's eye, no sooner does he descend intelligence, that it is more frequently spoken to the adjoining feature, than the poetry of of in its figurative sense than in any other; his lay is converted into burlesque, and he and there is scarcely a writer, however is himself dismissed as a profaner of love grave, whose pages are not embellished by and the muses. frequent poetical expressions in which the The mouth, though frequently spoken of eye is the principal agent; such as,-the in a figurative sense, is less poetical than language of the eye-the eye of the mind- the eye, most probably because of its immethe eye of omnipotence and a countless diate connexion with the functions of the multitude of figures, without which we body. In the language of poetry, the lips should find it difficult to express our ideas, and the tongue are generally substituted and which sufficiently prove how intimate for the mouth; the one being associatedl and familiar is our acquaintance with the with the more refined idea of a smile, an. eye as a medium of intelligence, no less the other with the organs of speech. than as an organ of sense. With the uni- Every one sees at the first glance that versally intelligible expression of the eye, the chin is not a subject for poetry; for are associated our first ideas of pain or though its peculiar formation may be strongpleasure, fear or co lfidence: the infant nat- ly indicative of boldness or timidity, as well urally looks up into its mother's eye to read as some meaner traits of character, it is so 22 THE POETRY OF LIFE. incapable of changing with the changing beast, they lost sight of the characteristics of emotions of the mind, that the chin must the man. The Egyptians appear to have imremain to be considered merely as a feature bodied in their sculpture the first, or rather the of the face, and nothing more. embryo idea of the sublime; and their huge, These notions, derived from the study of massive, and unmeaning heads, scarcely the human countenance, may appear to give chisselled into form, are as far removed in to the subject a greater degree of import- their expression from what is gross, as what ance than it really deserves; for there are is human. The Grecians knew better what many individuals not aware that they have was requisite to the gratification of a refined ever bestowed more physiognomical study and intellectual taste. They knew, that in upon the face of man, than upon the plate order to ennoble their representations of the from which they dine. But let one of these countenance of man, it must not only be direlate his favourite story to a stranger, who vested of all resemblance to the brute, but neither raises his eyes nor his eyebrows that, to rouse the human bosom to sensawhile he is speaking, whose mouth never tions of admiration and delight, it must be for one moment relaxes into a smile, and enlivened with the expression of human inw.ho gives no sign that he is interested by telligence. Had they proceeded but one any other motion of the head or face; the step farther in their imitation of nature as it teller of the story how little' soever he may is-had they consulted the sympathies and think he has studied the subject, will per- affections of humanity, they might have imceive that he has wasted his words upon mortalized the genius of the times by proone who could not, or would not appreciate ductions equally sublime, but infinitely more their value. This fact he knows with cer- touching and beautiful. tainty, and without being told; because As the Grecians reasoned and acted in from childhood he has always been accus- the early stage of civilization, so we, in formtomed to see earnest attention accompanied ing our earliest notions of the abstract naby certain movements, or positions of the ture of beauty, reason, perhaps unconface; and has observed, that the same face sciously, to ourselves. We see that a low would be very differently affected by weari- and rapidly retreating forehead, sunken ness or absence of mind. Thus, we gather eyes, short nose, distended and elevated at knowledge from experience every day with- the tip, wide mouth, and scarcely perceptiout being aware of it, and are satisfied with ble chin, are common to animals of the most the possession of our gain without inquiring repulsive character; and we loathe the from whence it was obtained. image of a human animal in any way reThe sentiments upon which mankind are sembling these. With that propensity ingenerally agreed respecting the beauty or herent in our nature to rush towards the opdeformity of the human countenance, origi- posite of every thing which excites dislike or nate more frequently in association, than, pain, we create a false taste, and affect to without examination of the subject, we admire what is not to be found in real life. should be disposed to allow. How often are And as most living faces have some faint -we struck with a similarity between certain touch of resemblance to the animal creation, faces and certain animals of the brute crea- we are more enraptured than the rules of tion; and just in proportion as the resem- physiognomy would warrant, with the cold blance is gross and brutal, we regard it with sublime of Grecian statuary. Nor is this disgust and horror. The ancients estab- taste likely to be corrected, because we lished for themselves a standard of beauty, study these marble beauties as statues only, as far removed from such resemblance as and consequently find in them all that is rethe form of the human countenance would quired for loveliness in repose; but could a allow; and sometimes, in their contempt for Grecian divinity step down from her pedesthe rude expression of animal life, they tal, and come to visit our couch in sorrow, rushed into the opposite extreme, and ex- bend over us in sickness, or meet us at the tinguished all apparent capability of living door of our home after long absence and — in their anxiety to avoid the mark of the weary travel; we should then perceive the GENERAL ASSOCIATIONS. 23 harsh coldness of what are called celestial spirit, while the "tablet of unutterable brows, but which were certainly never in- thoughts is traced" upon it; we immetended to relax into the expression of affa- diately begin to ponder upon what may be bility, kindness, or sympathy. the secret springs from whence flow the The faces which are universally consi- thoughts, feelings, and affections of such a dered most interesting, are those which vary character. We bestow upon it much of with every emotion of the soul; which sel- what is closely interwoven with our own. dom fail to please in general society, by We invest it with imaginary powers, and keeping up a sort of corresponding indica- believe it to be possessed of resources from tion with the feelings excited by different which the mind may draw as from unfailing subjects under discussion. Yet these varia- wells, untif at last we qeem to have estations must not be too rapid, they must not.blished an ideal intercourse with the myscorrespond with every trifling change, or the terious unknown, and to have made a friend expression will become puerile; because we by no other agency than the sympathy of are sure that so many different emotions felt the soul. in quick succession must neutralize each What is most generally esteemed in sociother, and we consequently doubt whether ety, might be easily discovered by-what the any feeling in connexion with such a coun- greatest number of individuals are disposed tenance can be deep or lasting. to affect. Thus, while the affectation of atThere is, however, beyond this charm of tention is often substituted for attention itself, the human face, another of a more abstruse while dull faces are compelled to brighten and intellectual character, one which more into smiles without the animation of joy, properly entitles it to be called poetical; and while brows are stretched into a mockery of here it may not be improper to remark, that good humour when good humour is wanta certain degree of mystery enhances the ing; there are deeper practitioners playing value of almost all our mental enjoyments. off the art of being mysterious, dealing in The human mind is so constituted, that it half-revealed secrets, concealing their own feels peculiar gratification in being occasion- names, looking abstracted by design, and ally thrown upon its own resources. In- forming plans for their own dignity, mimickstead of being constantly supplied with food ing the Corsair, and fancying they resemble selected and prepared for its use, it delights Lord Byron; with a hundred absurdities in being sometimes. permitted to issue forth besides, too gross or to contemptible to enuon an excursion of discovery, and is satisfied merate, yet all tending to prove that there is on such occasions with very uncertain ali- a disposition prevailing amongst mankind, ment. Mystery offers to the mind this kind to admire and delight in what is mysterious. of liberty. We dwell the longest upon that If we are generally agreed in our notions face which reveals a great deal, but not all of the beauty or deformity of the human of what the thoughts are engaged with; we face, we are still more unanimous in our esrecur with redoubled interest to those sub- timate of that of animal form in general. jects which we do not, on first examination, Some, it is true, may prefer a tall or abroad fully understand. figure, and others may choose exactly the But to return to the human countenance. opposite, but we are all of one opinion on the We meet with many faces animated, lively, subject of symmetry and proportion; beand quickly affected by the topics or events cause our associations are the same, and we of the moment. We remark of such, that bestow the highest degree of admiration on they are pleasing, and our admiration ends the bodies, both of men and animals. when here. But if, amongst the crowd, we dis- they posssss the combined qualities of firs- {] tinguish one possessed of this capability in ness, flexibility, and adaptation. the extreme, not always using it, however, All who have bestowed any attention upon but sometimes looking grave and abstracted, the horse, must regard this noble animal retiring, as it were, from the confusion or with feelings of admiration and delight. It the folly of the passing scene, to listen for needs not the aid of scientific study to ierawhile to the inner voice-the voice of the ceive in what perfection he possesses the l combined qualities of strength and swiftness, come, without fear that the fountains should endurance and Sfacility of motion. Had one be sealed, or the waters should become less of these qualities been wanting-had he pure. been feeble or inactive, had his power or his patience been soon expended, had he moved with awkwardness or difficulty, our admiration would have been considerably less, and we should probably now look with as little THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. pleasure on the horse as on the rhinoceros. Again, every one thinks the stag a beautiful THERE are few natural objects more poetanimal, perhaps the most beautiful in nature; ical in their general associations than flowers; but the stag wants the majestic power of the nor has there ever been a poet, simple or horse to give him an aspect of nobility, and, sublime, who has not adorned his verse with therefore,our admiration of him is of a qual- these specimens of nature's cunning workified and secondary nature. In the same manship. From the majestic sunflower, manner, it would not be difficult to trace the towering above her sisters of the garden, correspondence of our ideas through the and faithfully turning to welcome the god whole extent of animal creation, except only of day, to the little humble and well-known where the chain of association is broken by weed that is said to close its crimson eye beaccidental or local circumstances; and hap- fore impending showers, there is scarcely py is it for the human race, that they are so one flower which may not from its loveliness, constituted as to be disposed unanimously to its perfume, its natural situation, or its classavoid what is repulsive, and are able to par- ical association, be considered highly poetitake, m social concord, of the exquisite en- cal. joyment of admiring what is beautiful. As the welcome messenger of spring, the Had the mind of man been composed of snowdrop claims our first regard; and countheterogeneous or discordant elements, he less are the lays in which the praises of this must have wanted the grand principle of little modest flower are sung. The contrast happiness-sympathy with his fellow-crea- it presents of green and white, (ever the tures. He might unquestionably have pos- most pleasing of contrasts to the human eye,) sessed his own enjoyments, but he must may be one reason why mankind agree in have been a selfish and isolated being. His their admiration of its simple beauties; but intellectual powers might possibly have been a far more powerful reason is the delightful l cultivated, but without the stimulus of social association by which it is connected with the affection, their growth must have been with- idea of returning spring; the conviction that out grace, and their fruit without value. To the vegetable world through the tedious wincompute the distance of the planets, to mea- ter months has not been dead, but sleeping; sure the surface of the earth, and penetrate and that long nights, fearful storms, and into its secret mines, are occupations which chilling blasts, have a limitation and a bound might be carried on by man in his solitary assigned them, and must in their appointed and unconnected character; but in order time give place to the fructifying and genial that he might enjoy the benefit of a high influence of spring. Perhaps we have murtone of moral feeling, and thus be fitted for mured (for what is there in the ordinations a state of existence where knowledge is only of Providence at which man will not dare to less supreme than love, it was necessary murmur?) at the dreariness of winter. Perthat the general current of his feelings haps we have felt the rough blast too piershould be softened and refined, by innumer- cing to accord with our artificial habils. able springs of tenderness and aftfction, Perhaps we have thought long of the meltflowing through the finer sensibilities of his ing of the snow that impeded our noon-day j, nature, and filling that ocean of enjoyment, walk. But it vanishes at last; and there, I of which the human family have drank to- beneath its white coverlet, lies the delicate!! gether in unity since the world began, and snowdrop, so pure and pale, so true an em-!1 may continue to drink for generations yet to blem of hope, and trust, and confidence, that i THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 25 it might teach a lesson to the desponding, there, they would not to our,taste have lost and show the useless and inactive how in- their sweetness. valuable are the stirrings of that energy that The violet, while it pleases by its modest, can work out its purpose in secret, and under retiring beauty, possesses the additional oppression, and be ready in the fulness of charm of the most exquisite of all perfumes, time to make that purpose manifest and com- which, inhaled with the pure and invigoraplete. The snowdrop teaches also another ting breezes of spring, always brings back in lesson. It marks out the progress of time. remembrance a lively conception of that deWe cannot behold it without feeling that an- lightful season. Thus, in the language of other spring has come, and immediately our poetry, " the violet-scented gale" is synonythoughts recur to the events which have oc- mous with those accumulated and sweetlycurred since last its fairy bells were ex- blended gratifications which we derive from panded. We think of those who were near odours, flowers, and balmy breezes; and and dear to us then. It is possible they may above all, from the contemplation of renonever be near again; it is equally possible vated nature, once more bursting forth into they may be dear no longer. Memory is beauty and perfection. busy with the past; until anticipation takes The jessamine, also, with its dark green up the chain of thought, and we conjure up, leaves, and little silver stars, saluting us with and at last shape out in characters of hope, its delicious.scent through the open casea long succession of chances and changes to ment, and impregnating the whole atmosfill up the revolving seasons which must phere of the garden with its sweetness, has come and go before that little flower shall been sung and celebrated by so many poets, burst forth in its loveliness again. Happy that our associations are with their numbers, is it for those who have so counted the cost rather than with any intrinsic quality in the of the coming year, that they shall not find flower itself. Indeed, whatever may have at the end they have expended either hope first established the rank of flowers in the or desire in fruitless speculations. poetical world, they have become to us like It is of little consequence what flower notes of music, passed on from lyre to lyre; comes next under consideration. A few and whenever a chord is thrilled with the specimens will serve the purpose of proving, harmony of song, these lovely images prethat these lovely productions of nature are, sent themselves, neither impaired in their in their general associations, highly poetical. beauty, nor exhausted of their sweetness, The primrose is one upon which we dwell for having been the medium of poetic feelwith pleasure proportioned to our taste for ing ever since the world began. rural scenery, and the estimate we have pre- It is impossible to expend a moment's viously formed of the advantages of a peace- thought upon the lily, without recurring to ful and secluded 1ife. In connexion with that memorable passage in the sacred volthis flower, imagination pictures a thatched ume: " Consider the lilies of the field, how cottage standing on the slope of the hill, and they grow. They toil not, neither do they a little woody dell, whose green banks are spin; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon spangled all over with yellow stars, while a in all his glory was not arrayed like one of troop of rosy children are gambolling on the these." From the little common flower callsame bank, gathering the flowers, as we ed heart's ease, we turn to that well known used to gather them ourselves, before the passage of Shakspeare, were the fairy king toils and struggles of mortal conflict had so beautifully describes the "little western worn us down to what we are now; and flower." And the forget-me-not has a thouthus presenting to the mind the combined sand associations tender and touching, but ideas of natural enjoyment, innocence, and unfortunately, like many other sweet things, rural peace-the more vivid, because we rude hands have almost robbed it of its can remember the time when something like charm. Who can behold the pale Narcisthis was mingled with the cup of which we sus, standing by the silent brook, its stately drank-the more touching, because we form reflected in the glassy mirror, without doubt whether, if such pure drops were still losing themselves in that most fanciful of all 26 THE POETRY OF LIFE. poetical conceptions, in which the graceful around us through the summer months, youth is described as gazing upon his own without the aid or interference of man, beauty, until he becomes lost in admiration, which seems to defy his art to introduce a and finally enamoured of himself: while rival to his own unparalleled beduty-the hopeless echo sighs herself away into a common wild rose; so luxuriant, that it sound, for the love, which having centred in bursts spontaneously into blushing life, such an object, was never to be bought by sometimes crowning the hoary rock with a her caresses, nor won by her despair. blooming garland, and sometimes struggling Through gardens, fields, forests, and even with the matted weeds of the wilderness, over rugged mountains, we might wander yet ever finding its way to the open day, on in this fanciful quest after remote ideas that it may bask and smile, and look up with of pleasurable sensation connected with pres- thankfulness to the bright sun, without whose ent beauty and enjoyment; nor would our rays its cheek would know no beauty so tensearch be fruitless so long as the bosom of der, that the wild bee which had nestled in the earth afforded a receptacle for the ger- its scented bosom when that sun went down, minating seed, so long as the gentle gales returns in the morning and beholds the of summer continued to waft them from the colour faded from its cheek, while by its side parent stem, or so long as the welcome sun an infant rose is rising with the blush of a looked forth upon the ever-blooming garden cherub, unfolding its petals to live its little of nature. day, and then, having expended its sweetOne instance more, and we have done. ness, to die like its fair sisters, without murThe "lady rose," as poets have designated mur or regret. Blooming in the sterile this queen o beauty, claims the latest, waste, this lovely flower is seen unfolding though not the least consideration in speak- its fair leaves where there is no beauty to ing of the poetry of flowers. In the poetic reflect its own, and thus calling back the world, the first honors have been awarded heart of the weary traveller to thoughts of to the rose, for what reason it is not easy to peace and joy-reminding him that the define; unless from its exquisite combination wilderness of human life, though rugged of perfume, form, and colour, which have and barren to the discontented beholder, has entitled this sovereign of flowers in one also its sweet flowers, not the less welcome for country to be mated with the nightingale, being unlooked for, nor the less lovely for in another, to be chosen with the distinction being cherished by a hand unseen. of red and white, as the badge of two hon- There is one circumstance connected with ourable and royal houses. It would be diffi- the rose, which renders it a more true and cult to trace the supremacy of the rose to its striking emblem of earthly pleasure than origin; but mankind have so generally any other flower-it bears a thorn. While agreed in paying homage to her charms, its odorous breath is floating on the summer that our associations in the present day are gale, and its blushing cheek, half hid chiefly with the poetic strains in which they amongst the sheltering leaves, seems to are celebrated. The beauty of the rose is woo and yet shrink from the beholder's gaze, exhibited under so many different forms, that touch but with adventurous hand the garit would be impossible to say which had the den queen, and you are pierced with her greatest claim upon the regard of the poet; protecting thorns: would you pluck the rose but certainly those kinds which have been and weave it into a garland for the brow recently introduced, or those which are rear- you love best, that brow will be wounded: ed by unnatural means, with care and diffi- or place the sweet blossom in your bosom, culty, are to us the least poetical, because the thorn will be there. This real or ideal our associations with them are comparatively mingling of pain and sorrow, with the exfew, and those few relate chiefly to garden quisite beauty of the rose, affords a neverculture. ending theme to those who are best acAfter all the pains that have been taken quainted with the inevitable blending of to procure, transplant, and propagate the clouds and sunshine, hope and fear, wea. rose, there is one kind perpetually blooming and wo, in this our earthly inheritance. THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 27 With every thing fair, or sweet, or exqui- tude or joy. I speak of the thorn which acsite ih this world, it has seemed meet to that companies these pleasures not with murmurwisdom which appoints our sorrows, and ing or complaint. I speak of the wounds sets a bound to our enjoyments, to affix some inflicted by this thorn with a living consciousstain, some bitterness, or some alloy, which ness of their poignancy and anguish; bemay not inaptly be called, in figurative lan- cause exquisite and dear as mere earthly guage, a thorn. St. Paul emphatically pleasures may sometimes be, I would still speaks of a " thorn in the flesh," and from contrast them with such as are not earthly. this expression, as well as from his earnest- I would contrast the thorn and the wound, ness in having prayed thrice that it might the disappointment and the pain which acbe removed, we conclude it must have been company all such pleasures as are merely something particularly galling to the natural temporal, with the fulness of happiness, the man. We hear of the thorn of ingratitude, peace, and the crown, accompanying those the thorn of envy, the thorn of unrequited which are eternal. love-indeed of thorns as numerous as our pleasures; and few there are who can look back upon the experience of life, without acknowledging that every earthly good they have desired, pursued, or attained, has had THE POETRY OF TREES. its peculiar thorn. Who has ever cast himself into the lap of luxury, without finding IN contemplating the external aspect of that his couch was strewed with thorns? nature, trees, in their infinite variety of form Who has reached the summit of his ambi- and foliage, appear most important and contion without feeling on that exalted pinnacle spicuous; yet so many are the changes which that he stood bn thorns? Who has placed they undergo from the influence of the sun the diadem upon his brow, without perceiv- and the atmosphere, that it would be useless ing that thorns were thickly set within the to attempt to speak of the associations beroyal circlet? Who has folded to his bosom longing to this class of natural productions all that he desired of earth's treasures, with- abstractedly, and detached from collateral out feeling that bosom pierced with thorns? circumstances. What poet, for instance, All that we enjoy in this world, or yearn to would describe the rich foliage of the sumpossess, has this accompaniment. The more mer woods, without the radiance of the sumintense the enjoyment, the sharper the thorn; mer sun; the wandering gale that waves and those who have described most feel- their leafy boughs; the mountain side to ingly the inner workings of the human heart, which their knotted roots are clinging; the have unfailingly touched upon this fact with green valley where they live and flourish, the melancholy sadness of truth. safe from raging storms; and the murmurFar be it from one who would not wil- ing stream, over which their branches bend lingly fall under the stigma of ingratitude, to and meet. There is, however, a marked disparage the nature, or the number of distinction in the character of different trees, earthly pleasures-pleasures which are and a general agreement amongst mankind spread before us without price or limitation, in the relative ideas connected with each in our daily walk, and in our nightly rest- particular species. pleasures which lie scattered around our It is scarcely necessary to repeat how espath when we go forth upon the hills, or sential to our notions of perfection is the wander in the valley, when we look up to beauty offitness-that neither colour, form, the starry sky, or down to the fruitful earth nor symmetry, nor all combined in one ob-pleasures which unite the human family ject, can command our unqualified admirain one bond of fellowship, surround us at tion without adaptation; and that the our board, cheer us at our fire-side, smooth mind, by a sort of involuntary process, the couch on which we slumber, and even and frequently unconsciously to itself, takes follow our wandering steps long-long after note of the right application of means, and we have ceased to regard them with grati- the relation of certain causes with their na f 28 THE POETRY OF LIFE.. tural effects. Thus, we admire the stately throw of empires, the destruction of thrones, pine upon the mountain, not merely because and the scattering of multitudes —wlile the the eye is gratified by a correspondence be- laws and religion of half the world have tween its spiral form pointing upward to- been revolutionized, and what was once wards the sky, and the high projecting pin, deemed a virtue has gradually become punnacles of rock, unbroken by the steps of ishable as a crime-while sterile wastes have time; but because we know that in conse- been reclaimed, and fertilized, and made quence of this particular form, it is peculiarly fruitful, by the power and industry of sucadapted to sustain without injury the tem- cessive generations of men, and arts and pestuous gales which prevail in those inhos- commerce have wrought wonders which pitable regions where it chiefly grows. our unsophisticated forefathers would have There is something fierce, bristling, and de- pronounced miraculous-the same oak has fensive, in the very aspect of the pine; as if stood, perhaps at one time the witness of it set at naught the hollow roar of the tem- Druidical rites, at another affording shelter pest through its scanty foliage, and around to the simple and unlettered peasant tending its firm unshaken stem, while it stands like a the herds of swine that fed upon its falling guardian of the mountain wilds, armed at acorns: until, years rolling on, revolving all points, and proudly looking down upon summers crowning its brow with verdant the flight of the eagle, and the wreaths of beauty, and hoary winter scattering that wandering clouds that flit across the wilder- beauty to the winds, have left it for our ness of untroddcen snow. But plant a single warning, an emblem of fallen majesty-its pine upon the gentle slope of a green lawn, once sturdy boughs no sooner attackedby the amongst lilachs, and laburnums, and tender worm of destruction within, than assailed, flowering shrubs, the charm of association is and torn, and broken by the merciless blast broken, and the veteran of the rugged without. mountainous waste is shorn of his honours; Striking and magnificent as the oak unlike a patriot chief, submitting himself to the questionably is in its peculiar attitude and polished chains of society at the court of his growth, presenting at one view the comtyrant conqueror. bined ideas of ability to resist the strong, The oak, the monarch of the woods, pre- and power to defend the weak, it is yet sents to the contemplative beholder innu- scarcely less majestic than beautiful. What merable associations by which his mind is a combination of gorgeous hues its autumplunged into the profound ideas of gran- nal foliage displays! The eye of the painter deur, space, and time. We are first struck revels in its sombre glory, its burnished hue, with the majestic form and character of this and its wild fantastic garniture of green and tree-the mass of its foliage, the depth and gold, contrasted with its own hoary stem, extent of its shadow, and the tremendous and the depth of shadow that is thrown by power of resistance bodied forth in its gnarled the rays of the declining sun in lengthening and, twisted boughs; but above all other gloom over the quiet earth. considerations connected with it, we are af- Nor is it merely with the outward aspect fected almost with reverence by the lapse of this tree that our most powerful associaof time required to bring those prodigious tions are connected. In a nation perpetually branches to perfection, and the many, many exulting in her maratime supremacy, we tides of human feeling that must ebb and have learned to regard the oak as forming flow, before those firmly knotted roots shall a sort of bulwark for the defence of our libyield to the process of decay. In the na- erties. Thus, the British sailor calls upon tural course of meditation to which such a his comrades by the proud title of s" hearts subject leads, we consider the striking truth, of oak," and England is not unfrequently tha while nations have bowed and trembled described as being protected by her " oaken beneath successive tyrants until by the walls." wonted course of nature, the terrors of the There are, besides these, many other oppressed have given place to the reckless characters or points of consideration, in desperation that works its way, by the over- which we regard the oak with feelings of THE POETRY OF TREES. 29 respect, and sometimes with poetical interest. of the cottage slowly ascending, and clearly Perhaps it is not least in the scale of import- revealed against the sombre darkness of the ance, that many ancient and stately apart- elm, we think of the labourer returning to ments, dedicated to solemn or religious pur- his evening meal, the birds folding their poses, are lined with panels of the wood of weary wings, the coo of the wood pigeon, this tree. The same wood, beautifully carved the gentle fall of evening dew, the lull of and deepened into gloomy magnificence by winds and waves, the universal calm of nathe sombre influence of time, forms one of ture, and a thousand associations rush upon the principal ornaments in many religious us, connecting that lovely and untroubled houses; and when we look back to the cus- scene with vast and profound ideas of solemtoms of our ancestors, and the station which nity and repose. they occapied, with that respect which we To the willow belongs a character pecunaturally feel for their boasted hospitality, liarly its own. It has no stateliness, or magood cheer, and substantial magnificence, jesty, or depth of shadow, to strike the senses we seldom fail to surround them in imagina- and set the imagination afloat; but this tlon with goodly wainscoting of oak, to place mournful tree possesses a claim upon our a log of the same wood upon the blazing attention, as having become the universal hearth, and to endow them with powers both badge of sorrow, fancifully adopted by the mental and bodily, firnm, stable, and unbend- victims of despair, and worn as a garland ing as this sturdy tree. by the broken-hearted. It has also a beauty Amongst the trees of the forest, the elm and a charm of its own. It carries us in may very properly be placed next in rank idea to green pastures, and peaceful herds to the oak, from its majestic size and impor- that browse in deep meadows by the side of tance. Yet the elm has a very different some peaceful river, whose sleepy waters, character, and consequently excites in the silently gliding over their weedy bed, seem contemplative mind a different train of asso- to bear away our anxious and conflicting ciations and ideas. The massive and um- thoughts along with them. Seated by the brageous boughs, or rather arms of the elm, rude and ancient-looking stem of this tree, stretching forth at right angles with its we listen to the soft whispering of the wind stately stem, present to the imagination a among its silvery leaves, and gaze upon the picture of calm dignity rather than defensive glassy surface of the slowly moving stream, power. From the superficial manner in just rippled here and there by a stray branch which the roots of this tree are connected projecting from the flowery bank, or a fairy with the earth, it is ill calculated to sustain forest of reeds springing up in spite of the the force of the tempest, and is frequently ceaseless and invincible flow of that unfailtorn from its hold and laid prostrate on the ing tide. We gaze, until the precise disground by the gale, whose violence appears tinctions of past, present, and future fade to be unheeded by its brethren of the forest. away —the ocean of time flows past us like In painting, or in ideal picture-making, we that silent river (would it were as unruffled plant the elm upon the village green, a sort in its real course;) and while retaining a of feudal lord of that little peopled territory; dim and mysterious consciousness of our or in stately rows skirting the confines of the own existence, we lose all remembrance of dead, where the deep shadow from its dark its rough passages, all perception of its pregreen foliage falls upon the quiet graves, sent bitterness, and all apprehension of its and the long rank grass, and on the village future perils. From such unprofitable muchurch, when from her gray sides and sings, if too frequently indulged, we awake arched wind6ws she reflects the rays of the to a melancholy state of feeling, of which the setting sun, and looks, in her silence and so- willow has by the common consent of manlemnity, like a sister to those venerable trees. kind become emblematical. Morbid, listless, There are no gorgeous hues in the foliage and inactive, we shrink from the stirring neof the elm, no light waving, dancing or glis- cessities of life; we behold the happy flocks temng amongst its heavy boughs. All is still feeding, and almost wish, that like them grave majesty; and when we see the smoke we could be content with a rich pasture, as,~~~~~~~~~~~~w col t}netwtl~a ihpsuea 30 THE POETRY OF LIFE. the bound of our ambition-like them live, depicted a white urn delicately stitched with die, and be forgotten. The dreamy silence shining silk, and long green threads susof those low damp fields increases our me- pended over it, in mockery of its drooping lancholy, and the pale and mournful aspect branches. But above all, we have seen in of the willow, prematurely hoary, becomes the square ells of garden fronting those tall an emblem of our own fate and condition. thin dwellings about town, where a squeezed It grows not erec: and stately like the stern and narrow neighbour jostles up on each elm, or bold and free like the waving ash, side, leaving just room enough for a tin vebut stooping obliquely over the stream, or, randah, but no space to breathe or move, shrinking from its companions with distorted still less to think or feel;-we have seen, limbs, tells to the morbid and imaginative laden with a summer's dust, the countless beholder, a sad tale of early blight, or the little stunted weeping willows that throw rough dealing of rude and adverse winds. aloft, as if in search of purer air, their slenThe loiterer still lingers, loath to leave a spot der, helpless arms, and would weep, if they where one bitter root may yet remain unap- could, yea, cry aloud, at this merciless malpropriated. He listens while he lingers, and appropriation of their defenceless beauty. thinks he hears the willow whispering its These impressions must therefore necessorrows to the passing gale. The gale sarily be obliterated, and others, less vulgar blows more freshly, and the willow then and profane, be deeply impressed upon the seems to sigh anc shiver with the newly mind, before the weeping willow can be esawakened agonies of despair. tablished in that rank which it deserves to Thus can the distorted eye of melancholy hold amongst objects whose general assolook on every object with a glass of its own ciations are poetical.* colouring, and thus it is possible one of our Turning from the consideration of such most common and unimportant trees, natu- trees as belong to the forest, the field, or the rally growing in the familiar walks of man, grove, to those which are reared and cultiin the small enclosure near his door, the vated for domestic purposes; we find, even green paddock or the luxuriant meadow, here, a world of ideas and associations, may have acquired by the sanction of feel- which, if not highly poetical, are fraught ing, not of reason, its peculiar character as with the satisfaction of home comforts, and an emblem of sorrow and gloom. the interest of local attachments. In traThe weeping willow, as being more grace- veiling through a fertile country, thickly peofully mournful, might very properly have pled, not with the haggard, rude, or careclaimed that attention which has been given less-looking labourers at the loom, but with to the common and plebeian members of its a quiet and peaceful peasantry, whose defamily; but the weeping willow, while it light is in the gardens, the -fields, and the has in this country fewer natural associa- flocks which their fathers tended before them, tions, is burdened and robbed of its poetic how beautiful, in the season of their bloscharacter by a great number of such as are som, are the numerous orchards, neatly neither natural nor pleasing. Could we fenced in, and studding the landscape all think of this elegant and picturesque tree over with little islands of rich promise, where only in its most appropriate situation, droop- the brightest tints of the rose, and the fairest ing over the tomb of Napoleon, or could we of the lily, mingle with odorous perfume in have beheld this tomb itself, without its in- all the luxuriant profusion of nature! Again, finitely multiplied representations in poonah when the harvest is over, and the golden and every other kind of painting, we might fruit, perfected by a summer's sun, is.susthen have enjoyed ideas and sensations con- pended in variegated clusters from every nected with it of the most touching and ex- bough, how delightful is the contemplation quisite nature. But, alas! our first failure in drawing has been upon the dangling'.It is a fact now generally known, that the first weep. boughs of the weeping willow; our first son- ing willow grown in England, was planted in Pope's net has been addressed to this pathetic tree; garden at Twickenham, and is said to have been sent from Turkey, with a present from his friend, Lady Mary our first flourish in fancy needle-work has wortley Montague. THE POETRY OF TREES. 31 of that rural and picturesque scene!-how resque form presents, that we naturally consweetly the ideas it presents to the mind are nect with this plant the ideas of solemnity blended with our love of nature and natural which are awakened by reflecting on the enjoyments, and our gratitude for the boun- awful lapse of time. The ivy, too, is chiefly ty and goodness of a gracious Providence. seen upon the walls of religious houses, Descending to the class of inferior trees, or either perfect or ruinous, where its heavy rather plants, our poetical associations in- clusters of matted leaves, with their deep crease in proportion as these are more pic- shadow, afford a shelter and a hiding place turesque, graceful, or parasitical; and con- for the bat and the owl, and, in the ideas of sequently, are more easily woven into the the irrational or the too imaginative, for landscape, either real or imaginary, which other less corporeal beings that flit about in forms the subject of contemplation. Amongst the dusky hours of night. Thus, the ivy acsuch, the common wild heath is by no means quires a character of mystery and gloom, the least important; nor are we, on first con- perhaps, even more poetical than that which sideration, aware for how large a propor- strikes us when we see its glittering sprays tion of our admiration of mountain scenery glancing in the clear light of day, or waving we are indebted to the rich purple hue which in the wind around the gray turrets of the is thrown by this plant over the rugged sides ruin, and suggesting that simile which has of the hills, otherwise too cold and stony in been so frequently the poet's theme, of light their aspect to gratify the eye. With the words and jocund smiles assumed by the idea of the heath we connect the path of the broken-hearted to conceal the withering of lonely traveller, or the silence of untrodden the blighted soul. wilds; the haunt of the timid moor fowl, the It would be useless to proceed farther hum of the wandering bee, or the gush of with this minute examination of objects, to unseen water in the deep ravines of the each of which a volume of relative ideas mountains, working its way amongst the might be appropriated. A few examples rocks, through moss, and fern, and matted are sufficient to prove, that with this class weeds, until at length it sparkles up in the of natural productions, the great majority clear sun-shine, and then goes dancing, and of minds are the same in their associations. leaping, yet ever murmuring, like a pleased Would it might prove something better than but fretful child, on-on towards the bosom a mockery of the loveliness of nature, thus of the silent lake below. to examine its component parts, and ask But above all other vegetable productions, why each is charming! Far more delightneither trees nor flowers excepted, the ivy is ful would be the task of expatiating upon perhaps the most poetical. And why? not the whole, of roaming at will upon the hills merely because its leaves are "never sere," and through the woods, and embracing at nor because it hangs in fanciful festoons, one view, in one ecstatic thought, the unglittering yet gloomy, playful yet sad; but speakable harmony which reigns through because it does what so few things in nature the creation. The pine, the oak, and the will do-it clings to, and beautifies the ruin elm, may be magnificent in themselves-it shrinks not from the fallen column-it the willow, the heath, and the ivy, may each covers with its close embrace the rugged present a picture to the imagination; but face of desolation, and conceals beneath its what are these considered separately, comrich and shining mantle the ravages made pared with the ever-varying combination of by the hand of time-the wreck which the form and colour, majesty and grace, pretempest has wrought. sented by the forest, or the woodland, the Besides this highly poetical idea, which sloping banks of the river, or the leafy dell, forces itself upon every feeling mind, the ivy where the round and the massive figures has other associations, deeply interesting in are broken by the spiral stem or the feathery their character. It requires so many years foliage that trembles in the passing galeto bring it to the perfection necessary for where the hues that are most vivid, or most those masses of foliage, and dark recesses delicate, stand forth in clear contrast from the of mysterious gloom, which its most pictu- depths of sombre shade-where every pro 32 THE POETRY OF LIFE. jecting rock and rugged cleft is fringed thence a never-failing supply of the purest with a curtain of green tracery, and every poetical enjoyment. glassy stream reflects again, in its stainless mirror, the variety and the magnificence of the surrounding groves? Yet what are words to tell of the perfection of nature, the glories that lie scattered even in our daily THE POETRY OF ANIMALS. path? And what are we, that we should pursue the sordid avocations of life without WHILE flowers, and trees, and plants in pausing to admire? general afford an immense fund of interest In order that the harmony of sweet sounds to the contemplative beholder, the animal may be distinctly perceived and accommo- kingdom, yet scarcely touched upon in these dated to the taste, there must be a peculiar pages, is, perhaps, equally fertile in poetical formation of the human ear; nor is it possi- associations. From the reflections of the ble for the poetry of any object, even the melancholy Jacques upon the wounded most beautiful in nature, to be felt or under- deer, down to the pretty nursery fable of stood without an answering chord in the " The Babes in the Wood,"' the same natuhuman heart. There are many rational ral desire to associate with our own the beings, worthy and estimable in their }vay, habits and feelings of the more sensitive and altogether insensible to the unseen or spirit- amiable of the inferior animals is observaual charm which lies in almost every subject ble, as well in the productions of the subliof intellectual contemplation; who gaze mest, as the simplest poet. upon the ivy-mantled ruin, and behold no- Burns' "Address to a Mouse," proves to thing more than gray walls with a partial us with how much genuine pathos a familiar covering of green, like the man so aptly and ordinary subject may be invested. No described by Wordsworth, when he says- mind which had hever bathed in the fountain of poetry itself-whose remotest attributes " The primrose by the water's brim, had not been imbued with this ethereal prinA yellow primrose was to him,ciple as with a living fire, could have venAnd it was nothing more."a tured upon such a theme. In common hands, But there are others, whether happier in a moral drawn from a mouse, and clothed iri this state of being it might not be easy to the language of verse, would have been prove, but certainly more capable of intense little better than a burlesque, or a baby's and refined enjoyment, who, accustomed to song at best; but in these beautiful and live in a world of thought, and to derive touching lines, so perfect is the adaptation their happiness from remote and impalpable of the language to the subject-so evident, essences of things, rather than from things without ostentation, the deep feeling of the themselves, cannot look on nature, nor be- bard himself, that the moral flows in with hold any object with which poetical associa- a natural simplicity which cannot fail to tion holds the most distant connexion. bur charm the most fastidious reader. immediately a spark in the train of imagina- The lines in which Cowper describes himtion is kindled, and consciousness, memory, self as a" stricken deer," are also affecting in and anticipation, heap fuel on the living fire, the extreme; but as my object is not to which glows through the expansive soul. quote instances, but to examine why certain It is, still to speak figuratively, by the things are pre-eminently poetical, we will light of this fire, that they see what is im- proceed to the considerations of a few indiperceptible to other eyes. They ean disco- vidual subjects; first premising, that aniver types and emblems in all created things; mals obtain th ] character of being so in a and having received in their own minds greater degree in proportion as we imagine deep and indelible impressions of beauty them to possess such qualities as are most and harnony, majesty and awe, can recur elevated or refined in ourselves, and in a less to those impressions through the channels degree as we become familiarized with their which external things afford, and draw from bodily functions: because the majority of THE POETRY OF ANIMALS. 33 our ideas, in connexion with them, must then acuteness of sensation; but they are sufferbe of a gross material character, just as we ings still, borne with a meekness that looks so may speak in poetry, of the " wild boar of much like the Christian virtue, resignation, the wilderness," while the tame hog of the that, in contemplating the hard 3ondition of sty is a thing wholly forbidden. this c egraded animal, the _reart is softened The elephant is allowed to be the most with feelings of sorrow ana compassion, and sagacious of the brute creation; but his we long to rescue it from the yoke of the sagacity is celebrated chiefly in anecdotes oppressor. of trick and cunning, which qualities being I have often thought there was something the very reverse of what is elevated or no- peculiarly affecting in the character of the ble in human nature, he possesses, in spite young ass-something almost saddening to of his curious formation and majestic power, the soul, in its sudden starts of short-lived little claim to poetical interest. frolic. In its appearance there is a strange The dog very properly stands next in the unnatural mixture of infant glee, with a scale of intellect; and so far as faithful at- mournful and almost venerable gravity. Its tachment is a rare and beautiful trait in the long melancholy ears are in perfect contrast character both of man and brute, the dog with its innocent and happy face. It seems may be said to be poetical; but we are too to have heard, what is seldom heard in exfamiliar with this animal to regard him with treme youth, the sad forebodings of its latter the reverence which his good qualities might days; and when it crops the thistle, and seem to demand. We feed him on crusts sports among the briers, it appears to be and garbage; or we see him hungered until with the vain hope of carrying the spirit of he becomes greedy, and neglected until he joy along with it, through the after vicissibecomes servile, and spurned until he threat- tudes of its hard and bitter lot. ens a vengeance which he dares not execute. The cow is poetical, not'rom any quality The claims of the horse to the general inherent, or even imagined to be inherent in admiration of mankind are too well under- itself, but from its invariable association stood to need our notice here, especially as with rich pastures and verdant meadows, they have already been examined in a for- and as an almost indispensable ornament to mer chapter. To the horse belong no as- pictures of quiet rural scenery. Time was sociations with ideas of what is gross or when the cow was poetical f-om her associmean. His most striking attribute is power; ation with rosy maidens tripping over the and the ardour with which he enters into the dewy lawn, and village swains tuning the excitement of the chase, or the battle, gives rustic reed; but since the high magnifier of him a character so nearly approaching to modern investigation has been applied to what is most admired in the human species, pastoral subjects, milkmaids have been prothat the ancients delighted to represent this nounced to be too homely for the poet's noble animal, not as he is, but with distend- theme; village swains have been detected in ed nostrils, indicating a courage almost fustian garments; andboth, with their flocks, more than animal, with eyes animated with and their herds, and with pastoral poetry mental as well as physical energy, and with altogether, have been dismissed from the the broad intellectual forehead of a man. theatre of intellectual entertainment. The ass is certainly less poetical than pic- Nothing, however, that has yet been effectturesque; but, still, it is poetical in its pa- ed by the various changes to which taste is tient endurance of suffering, in its associa- liable, has destroyed the poetical character fion with the wandering outcasts from society of the deer. Our associations with the deer whose tents are in the wilderness, and whose are far removed from every thing gros's or "lodging is on the cold ground," in its hum- familiar; we think of it only as a free denible appetites, and in its unrepining submis- zen of the woods, swift in its movemnents, sion to the most abject degradation. Let us graceful in its elastic step, delicate in all its hope that the patience of the ass arises from perceptions, and tremblingly alive to the its own insensibility, and that its sufferings, dangers which threaten it on every hand. though frequent, are attended with little We imagine it retiring from the broad clear w o~~~~ 134 THE POETRY OF LIFE light of day, into the seclusion of the moun- appended to them the entire wings of a bird. tain glen; stooping in silence and solitude Whether, from this association, we have to drink of the pure waters in their oubbling learned to consider birds as less material and imelodious flow; gazing on through the than other animals, or whether, from the rocky defile, or in amongst the weedy hol- aerial flight of birds, the artist and the poet lows on.he banks of the stream, with its have learned to represent angelic beings as clear calm eye, that looks too full of love borne along the fields of air on feathery and tenderness to be betrayed, yet ever wings, it is certain that the capacity of flight watchful, from an instinctive sense of the loses none of its poetical sublimity and grace, multiplied calamities which assail the inno- by being connected in our notions with the cent and helpless; listening to the slightest only means of which we have any knowsound of earth or air, the rustling of the ledge. spray that springs back from the foot of the Birds, in their partiality for the haunts of fairy songster, or the fall of the leaf that man, offer a striking appeal to the sensitive flickers from bough to bough; and then-as and benevolent mind. Why should they the zephyr swells, and the gathering breeze cast themselves into the path of the destroycomes like a voice through the leafy depths er, or expose their frail habitations to the of thm forest —bounding over the mossy turf, grasp of his unsparing hand? Is it that and away along the sides of the mountain- they feel some " inly touch of love" for their away to join the browsing herd, and give imperious master, or that they seek from them intelligence of an approaching, but his power what his mercy too often denies? unseen foe. Or, when the chase is ended, or would they ask, in the day of their disand the wounded deer returns to pant away tress, for the sparings of his plenty, and pay its parting breath in the same glen where it him back with the rich melody of their sumgambolled upon the dewy grass, a careless mer songs? Whatever may be the cause, and sportive fawn, he comes back with wea- they flock around him, as if the manly priry foot and bleeding bosom, to slake his vilege of destruction had never been exerburning thirst in the same fountain where so cised upon their defenceless community. often he has bathed his vigorous and elastic Yet, mark how well they know the nature limbs. The woods are still peaceful, the of creation's lord. They tremble at his birds sing on, regardless of his groans, the coming, they flutter in his grasp, they look stream receives the life-bloodfromhis wound, askance upon him from the bough, they rehis brethren of the faithless herd again are gard him with perpetual suspicion, and, browsing on the distant hills, and alone in above all, some of their species will forsake his mortal agony he weeps and dies. their beloved and carefully constructed habBut of all the animal creation, birds have itations, if he has but profaned them with ever been the poet's favourite theme. In his touch. It can be no want of parental the beauty of their form and plumage, in affection which drives them to this unnatural their soaring flight, in their sensitiveness alternative, for how diligently have they and timidity, and in the lightness and vivid- toiled, with what exquisite ingenuity have ness of their movements, there is something they constructed their children's home, how to our conceptions so intimately connected faithfully have they watched, how patiently with spirituality, that we can readily sym- have they waited for the fulfilment of their pathize with the propensity of the imagina- hopes! Yet, in one fatal moment, the silktive. to imbody, in these gentle and ethereal en cord that strung together their secret beings, the sou.s of their departed friends; joys is broken. Another spring may renew and of the superstitious, to regard them as their labours and their loves, but they know winged messengers laden with the irrevoca- it not. Their all was centred in that narrow ble decrees of an oracular fate. point, and to them the hopes and the labours 1 It is a curious fact, that, in our ideal per- of a whole life are lost. The delicacy of personifications of angelic forms, we do not per- ception which enables them to detect the ceive that they lose any thing of their intel- slightest intrusion upon the sacred mysteries lectual or celestial character, by having of their nest, gives them a character of. _ _......~ _... 11UI~~I~-~LUYr _____ THE POETRY OF ANIMALS. 35 acuteness and sensibility far beyond that as we ourselves had glimpses of in early of other a-nimals; and it is a wonderful and life, when the animal excitement ofchildhood, mysterious instinct which makes them resign mingling with the first bright dawnings of ] all they have loved and cherished, even reason, lifted us high into the regions of 1 when no change is perceptible to other eyes, thought, and taught us to spurn at the harsh i and when it is certain that no injury has discipline of real life. From flights such as been sustained. It is a refinement upon these we have so often fallen prone upon the 1 feeling, which strikes the imagination with a earth, that they have ceased to tempt our strong resemblance to some of those mal- iull-fledged powers, and even if the brillianoccurrences in human life, which divert the cy of thought remained to lure us on, the; inner channel of the thoughts and affections, animal stimulus would be wanting, and we without the superficial observer eing should be conscious of our utter inability on 1 aware of any changre-those lamentable en- the first attempt to soar again. But the croachments upon the sacredness of domes- memory of this ecstatic feeling still remains, tic confidence, which, by a word-a look-a and when we think of the aspirations of puI touch, may at once destroy the blessedness rifled and happy spirits, we compare them -of that union, which is nothing better than to the upward flight of the lark, or to the a degrading bond after the spell of its secret boundings of that innocent joy which we ourcharm is broken. selves have felt, but feel no more. And then The nightingale, whose charmed lays there is the glad voice of the lark, that have a two-fold glory in their native melody, spring of perpetual freshness, pouring forth and in the poet's song, claims unquestion- its untiring and inexhaustible melody. ably the first place in our censideration; ably the t place in our ccnsideration; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.-' though I own I am much disposed to think that this bird owes half its celebrity to the Who ever listened to this voice on a clear circumstance of its singing in the night, spring morning, when nature was first rising when the visionary, wrapped in the mantle from her wintry bed, when the furze was of deep thought, wanders forth to gaze upon in bloom, and the lambs at play, and the the stars, and to court the refreshment of primrose and the violet scented the desilence and solitde. It is then that the licious south wind that came with the glad voice of the rightingale thrills upon his ear, tidings of renovated life-who ever listened and he feels thac a kindred spirit is awake, to the song of the lark on such a morning, perhaps, like him, to sweet remembrances, while the dew was upon the grass, and the to sorrows too deep for tears, and joys for sun was smiling through a cloudless sky, which music alone can find a voice. He without feeling that the spirit of joy was still listens, and the ever-varying melody rises alive within, around, and above him, and and falls upon the wandering wind-he that those wild and happy strains, floating pines for some spiritual communion with in softened melody upon the scented air, this unseen being-he longs to ask why were the outpouringsofa gratitude too rapsleep is banished from a breast so tuned to turous for words? harmony-joy, and joy alone, it cannot be, Nor is it the vocal power of birds which which inspires that solitary lay; no, there gives us the highest idea of their intellectual are tones of tenderness too much like grief, capacity. Their periodical visitations of parand is not grief the bond of fellowship by ticular regions of the glooe, and the punctuwhich impassioned souls are held together? ality with which they go forth on their mysThus, the nightingale pours upon the heart terious passage at particular seasons of the of the poet, strains which thrill with those year, form, perhaps, the most wonderful prosensations that have given pathos to his pensity in their nature. It is true that inmuse, and he pays her back by celebrating stinct is the spring of their actions, and it is her midnight minstrelsy in song. possible that they' are'themselves unconThe skylark is, of all the feathered tr'be, scious of any motive or reason for the impormost invariably associated with ideas of rap- tant change which instinct induces them to turous, pure, and elevated enjoyment; such make; but in speaking of the poetry of birds, - __1 36 THE POETRY OF LIFE. I wish to be understood to refer to the ideas ocean with that strange, deep wonder with which their habits naturally excite, not to which we regard the manifestations of a the facts which they elicit. We know that mysterious, but concentrated and individual birds are by no means distinguished, above power-to feel that he stretches his unfath other animals by their intellectual capacity, omable expanse from pole to pole-that he but so wonderful, so far beyond our compre- ruffles his foaming mane and rushes bellowhension, is the instinct exhibited in their ing upon the circling shore-or that he lies transient lives, that instead of having al- slumbering in his silent glory, beneath the ways in mind the providential scheme which blaze of our meridian sun, and through the provides for the wants and wishes even of still midnight of the island gardens that gem the meanest insect> we are apt to indulge the South Pacific; it is not less in unison our imaginations by atlaching to the winged with poetic feeling, nor less productive of wanderers of the air, vague yet poetical ecstatic thought, to personify the tree ideas of their own mental endowments, and the flowers, and the rippling streams, and to half believe them to be actuate& by a delica- welcome with gratitude the fairy forms and cy of sense and feeling, in many cases supe- glad voices that come to tell us of returnin rior to our own. Whether this belief, with spring. which the minds of children are so strongly Who that has tasted the delights of poetry, imbued, and which lingers about us long would be deprived of this power of the imafter we have become acquainted with its agitation to people the air ad animate the fallacy, be any bar to the progress of philo- whole creation? Let the critic smile-let sophical knowledge, I am not prepared to the tradhsman count his pence, and reckon say; but certainly it is the very essence of up how lithae imagination has ever added to poetical feeling; and for one visionary who his store-letThe modern philosopher examwould scruple to kill a bird for dissection ine the lea; and the flower, and the bird's because it had been the companion of his wing, aiA prnour-e them equally material woodland walks, there will remain to be a and devoid of rirnd-let the good man say thousand practical men who would care lit- that poetry is a v;Ain pbrsuit, and that these tle what strains had issued from that throat, things are not worthy of' our regard; I mainif they could but ascertain how the throat tamn that these notions, Nisionkary as they are, itself was constructed. It is precisely the tend to innocent enjoynm-nt, and that innosame principle which inspires us with the cent enjoyment is not a vain11ursuit, becauseI sublimest ideas of the majesty' of the uni- it may, and ought to inspire us with love verse, by irabodying in the stars, the moun- and gratitude towards Him who has not tains, the ocean, or the pealing thunder, only given us a glorious creation to enjoy, some unseen, but powerful intelligence, that but faculties to enjoy it with, and imaginaaoffers for our Ienjoyment a never-ending com- tion to make the most of it. panionship in the woods and wilds, through With the swallow we associate the everan ideal personification of every thing sweet cheering idea of returning summer. We and fair. It is this principle which makes watch for its coming, and rejoice to hear the us hail the periodical return of certain birds, merry twittering voice, that seems to tell of Ias if they had been thinking of us, and of a life of innocent and careless glee-an exour fields anid gardens, in that far distant istence unruffled by a storm. As the sumland, of which they tell no tidings; and, mer advances, and we seek shelter from the taking into consideration the changes of the noon-day heat in the deep shade of the leafy seasons, had 3onsulted upon the best means boughs that wave around the margin of the of escaping the dangers of the threatening glassy stream, it is here that the swallowv is storm: as if they had spread their feeble not unfrequently our sole companion; and wings to bear them over the wide waste of ever as we call to rememb~rance its swift yet Iinhospitable waters from the energy of their graceful flight, we picture it darting from own hearts, and had come back to us from the pendent branches of the willow, stooping Itheir own unchangeable and fervent love, to cool its arrowy wing upon the surface ofI If it be poetry to gaze upon the mighty the glancing waters, and then away, swifter THE POETRY OF ANIMALS. 37 than thought, into mid a.r, to sport one mo- But high she shoots through air and light, ment with aerial beings. Again it sweeps Above all lowv Lelay,.n. r.Where nothing earthly -bounds her flight, in silence past our feet, over the spiral reeds, Or shadow dims her way. around, above us, gliding through the shad- So grant me, God, from every stail) ows, and flickering through the sunshine; Of sinful passion free, but never resting, and yet never weary; for Aloft through virtue's purer air, To steer my flight to thee! the spirit than animates its bounding bosom, and stretches forth its giddy wing, is one No sin to cloud, no lure to stay, My soul, as home she springs, that knows no sleep until light has vanished Thy sunshine on her joyful way, from the world, no sadness until the sweets Thy freedom on her wings." of summer are exhausted. And then arises that vague mysterious longing for a milder But neither tle wonderful instinct of this sphere-that irrepressible energy to do and undeviating messenger, nor evert the classical association of the two white doves with dare what to mere reason would appear irnpracticable; and forth it launches with its the queen of love and beauty, are more faithful companions, true to the appointed powerful in awakening poetical ideas than time, upon the boundless ocean of infinitude, the simple cooing of our own wood pigeon, trusting to it knows not what, yet trusting still. heard sometimes in the silent solemnity of With the cuckoo, our associations are in sou some respects the same as with the swallow, but the hum of te wandering bee, as he except that we are in the habit of regarding comes laden and rejoicing home, when the it simply as a voice; and what a voice! sun is alone in the heavens, and the cattle How calm, and clear, and rich! How full are sleeping in the shade, and not a single of all that can be told of the endless profu- breath of air is whispering through the sion of summer's charms!-of the hawthornk shadows and the deep dark shadows of the in its scented bloom, of the blossoms of t elm and the sycamore lie motionless upon the earth-or in the cool evening when the apple, and the silvery waving of the fresh the earth-or, in, shadows, less distinct, are lengthened out green corn, of the cowslip in the meadow, shadows, less distinct, are lengthened out anrd the wild rose by the woodland path; upon the lawn, and the golden west is tingand last, but not least in its poetical beauty, ing here an there the bright green foliage of the springing up of the meek-eyed daisy, with a brighter hue, when the shepherd is to welcome the foot of the traveller, upon numbering his flock, and the labourer is rethe soft and grassy turf. turning to his rest, it is then that the soft Above all other birds, the dove is most in- sweet cooing of the dove, bursting forth, as timately and familiarly associated in our it were, from the pure fount of love and joy minds with ideas of tlhe quiet seclusion of within its breast, sounds like the lullaby of rural life, and the enjoyment of peace and nature, and diffuses over the mind that holy love. This simple bird, by no means re- calm which belongs to our best and happiest markable for its sagacity, so soft in its co- feelins. louring, and graceful in its form, that we From the timid moor cock, the " whrring cannot behold it without being conscious of partridge," and the shy water fowl that scarcely dares to plume its beauteous wing in its perfect loveliness, is in some instancesscarcely dares to plume its beauteous wing in endowed with an extraordinary instinct, themoonlightofourautumnalevening,when which adds greatly t. its poetical interest. the floods are high, and the wind rushes That species called tie carrier pigeon, has whispering through the long sere grass, often been celebrated for the faithfulness down to the russet wren that looks so gravewith which it pursues its mysterious way, ly conscious of the proprieties of life, there is but never more beautifully.han in the fol- scarcely one class of the feathered tribe to.lowing lineE by Moore. which imagination does not readily and lowing lines by Moore. naturally assign an intellectual, or rather a "The bird -et loose in eastern skies, moral character, associating it with feelings When hastenin~g fondly home, and capabilities, of which the little flutterer Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, or flies. Where idler wanderers roam; is (perhaps happily for itself) unconscious. l3 |8 THE POETRY OF LIFE. The peacock is a striking illustration of this the owl is particularly d&stinguished; and fact. The beauty of his plumage is in all such is the grave aspect of its countenance, probability lost upon him, yet because it con- so nearly resembling the human face in the sists of that rich and gaudy colouring, which traits which are considered as indicative of is consistent with our notions of what vanity sagacity and earnest thought, that the andelights in, and because the lengthened cients dignified this bird by making it the garniture of his tail requires that for conve- emblem of wisdom, though there seems to nience and repose he should often place be little in its real nature to mrerit such exalhimself in an elevated situation, he has ob- tation. From the extreme timidity of the tained a character which there is little in his owl, and its habitual concealment from the real nature to justify, and as an emblem of light of day, it is difficult to become familiar pride, is placed by the side of Juno in her with its character. We see it sailing forth regal dignity. This tendency of the mind on expanded wings in the gray twilight of to throw over sensible objects a colouring of the evening, when other birds have retired its own, is also proved by the character to their nightly rest; or we behold it in the which mankind have bestowed upon the distance a misty speck, half light, half sharobin redbreast, in reality a jealous, quarrel- dow, just visible in the same proportion, and some, and unamiable bird; yet such is the with the same obscurity of outline and counobtrusive and meek beauty of its little lour, as in our infancy we fancied that s;piriform, the touching pathos of its " still small tual beings from another world made themvoice," and the appeals it seems ever to be selves perceptible in this. Besides which, making to the kindness and protection of the voice of the owl, as it comes shrieking on man, that the poet perpetually speaks of the the midnight blast, and its mysterious breathrobin with tenderness and love, and even ings, half sighs, half whispers, heard the rude ravager of the woods spares a amongst the ivy wreaths of the ruin, all tend breast so lovely, and so full of simple melody. to give to this bird a character of sadness, Birds as well as other animals, owe much solemnity and awe. of their poetical interest to the fabulous part The raven, strikingly sagacious and venof their history; thus, the pelican is said to erable in its appearance, is still believed by feed her young with the life-blood flowing the superstitious to be a bird of ill omen; |fom her own bosom, and this unnatural act and much as we may be disposed to despise of maternal affection is quoted by the poet such prognostications as the flight, or the as a favourite simile for self-devotion under cry of different birds, there is something in various forms. Of the swan it is said and the habits, but especially in the voice of the sung, that in dying she breathes forth a raven, which gives it a strange and almost strain of plaintive song; but even without fearful character. It seems to hold no comthis poetical fable, the swan is associated munion with the joyous spirits, to have no with so much that is graceful and lovely, association with the happy scenes of earth; that we cannot think of this majestic queen but leads a lengthened and unsocial life of the water, sailing forth like a snow-white amongst the gloomy shades of the veneragallery on the silver tide, without losing our- ble forest, in the deep recesses of the pathselves in a romantic dream of lakes and ri- less mountain, or on the rocky summit of the vers, and that sylvan scenery which the beetling crag that overlooks the ocean's blue swan is known to frequent. abyss; and when it goes forth, with its saWe have yet given our attention only to ble pinions spread like the wings of a dark those birds whose nature and habits are pro- angel upon the wind, its hoarse and lollow ductive of pleasing associations. There are croak echoes from rock to rock, as if telling, others no less poetical, whose home is in the in those dreary and appalling tones, of the desert or the mountain, whose life is in the fleshy feast to which it is hastenming, of' the storm or on the field of carnage; and it Is to death-pangs of the mountain deer, of Mte these especially that fabulous history has cry of the perishing kid, and of the bones of given importance and celebrity. the shipwrecked seaman whitening in the For its mysterious and gloomy character surge. 4 THE POETRY OF ANIMALS. 39 To the eagle mankind have agreed in as- or almost any other than what it is, it would signing a sort of regal character, from the have broken the harmony of the picture; majesty of his bearing, and the proud pre- but its breast is of the form of the ocean eminence he maintains amongst the fea- waves, and the misty hue of its darker pluthered tribe; irom the sublimity of his mage is like the blending of the vapoury chosen home, far above the haunts of man clouds with the cold blue of the deep sea and meaner animals, from the self-seclusion below. Not only in its colouring, but in the in which he holds himself apart from the wild gracefulness of its movements, in its general association of living and familiar shrill cry, in its swift and circling flight, and things, and from the beauty and splendour in the reckless freedom with which it sails of his sagacious eye, which shrinks not from above the drear abyss, its dark shadow rethe dazzling glare of the sun itself. Innu- flected in the hollow of the concave waters, merable are the fables founded upon the pe- and its white plumage flashing like a gleam culiar habits of this bird, all tending to ex- of light, or like the ocean spray, from rock to alt him in the scale of moral and intellectual rock, it assimilates so entirely with the whole importance; but to the distinction conferred character of the scene, that we look upon it upon him by the ancients when they raised as a living atom separated from the troubled him to a companionship with Jove, is mainly and chaotic elements, a personification of the to be attributed the poetical interest with spirit of the storm, a combination of its foam which his character is universally invested. and its darkness, its light and its depth, its There are many birds whose peculiar swiftness and its profound solemnity. haunts and habits render them no less useful Inferior to birds in their pictorial beauty, to the painter than the poet, by adding to though scarcely less conducive to poetical the pictorial effect of his landscape. In the interest, are the various tribes of insects that sheet of crystal water which skirts the no- people the earth and animate the air; but bleman's domain, and widens in front of his before turning our attention to these, it may castellated halls, we see the stately swan; be well to think for a moment in what manon the shady margin of the quiet stream, ner the poet's imagination is affected by imbosomed in a copes-wood forest, the shy fishes and reptiles. Of the poetry of fishes / water hen; the jackdaw on the old gray little can be said. Two kinds only occur to steeple of the village church; and a com- me as being familiar in the language of pany of rooks winging their social way, poetry, and conducive to its figurative charm wherever the scenery is of a peaceful, culti- -the flying fish and the dolphin. The forvated, or rural character. By these means mer, in its transient and feeble flight, has our inimitable Turner delights to give his been made the subject of some beautiful pictures their highly poetical character. The lines by Moore; and because of the perpeheron is one of his favorite birds, and when tual dangers which await it from innumerait stands motionless and solitary upon a bro- ble enemies, both in sea and air, it is often ken fragment of dark rock, looking down adopted as a simile for the helpless and perinto the clear deep water, with that imper- secuted children of earth; while the dolturbable aspect of never-ending melancholy phin, from the beauty of its fbrm, and the which marks it out as a fit accompaniment gorgeous colours which are said to be proof wild and secluded scenery, we feel almost duced by its last agoilies, is celebrated in the as if the genius of the place were personi- poet's lay as an emblem of the glory which fled before us, and silent, and lonely, and shines most conspicuously in the hour of unfrequented as these wilds may be, that death. there is at least one spirit which finds com- -' parting day panionship in their solitude. Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues But above all other birds, the seagull, as With a new colonr, as it gasps away: it diversifies the otherwise monotonous as- The last still loveliest, till,-'tis gone-and all is gray " it diversifieBYRJN. pect of the ocean, is an essential accompaniment to every representation of a sea view. In fearful pre-eminence amongst those Had the colour of this bird been red or yellow, animals commonly considered repulsive and 40 THE POETRY OF LIFE. degraded, is the serpent, whose history is and diffusing poison-the locust, whose unavoidably associated with the introduc- plagues are often commemorated-the hortion of sin and sorrow into the world. Whe- net, to whose stings Milton describes Samson ther from this association, or from an instinc- as comparing the accumulated agony of his tive horror of its "venomous tooth," it is own restless thoughts-the glow-worm, certain that the serpent is more generally whose feeble light is like a fairy star, beamdreaded, and more loathed, even by those ing upward from a world upon which all who do not fear it, than any other living thing; other stars look down-and the cankerand yet how beautiful is its sagacious eye, worm, whose fatal ravages destroy the how rich and splendid its colouring, how bloom of youth, and render void the prodelicate the tracery of net-work thrown all digality of summer-passing over all these over its glossy scales, how graceful and easy and many more, in which we recognise the its meandering movements, as it winds itself familiar companions of the poet, we turn our in amongst the rustling grass, how much attention to the butterfly and the moth, as like one of the fairest objects in nature, a being most associated with refined and clear blue river wandering through a distant agreeable ideas. valley! Yet all these claims to beauty, The butterfly is like a spiritual attendant which the serpent unquestionably possesses, upon the poet's path, whether he dreams of entitle it the more to the contempt and ab- it as an emblem of the soul, fluttering around horrence of mankind, by obtaining for it the the fair form of Psyche, or beholds it in no character of insinuating guile, which the less beautiful reality, sporting from flower to allurements it is recorded to have practised flower, and teaching him the highest intelupon our first mother seem fully to confirm. lectual lesson-to gather sweets from all. The toad, save for the " precious jewel in We are apt in our childhood to delight in his head," can scarcely be called poetical, the legendary tales of fairy people inhabitthough not unfrequenty found in verse as a ing the groves, the gardens, or the fields, striking similitude for the extreme of ugliness, and regard with an interest almost superstias well asfor a despicable proneness to grovel tious, that mysterious circle of dark green in what is earthly and most abhorrent to our verdure that remains from year to year finer feelings, from its frequenting low, marking the enchanted spot, where once damp, unwholesome places, the banks of they were believed to hold their midnight stagnant pools, or the nettles and lone grass revels. Butterflies, in their exquisite colourthat wave over the gloomy and untrodden ing, their airy movements, and ephemeral ground where the dead lie sleeping in their lives, exhibit to the imaginative beholder no silent rest. slight resemblance to these ideal beings, as The snail has certainly no strong claims they glide through the scented atmosphere to poetical merit; yet we often find it serv- of the parterre, nestle in the velvet leaves ing the purpose of simile and illustration, of the rose, or touch without soiling the from its tardy movements, and the faculty it snowy bosom of the lily. has of carrying about its home, into which it The butterfly is also strikingly emblematshrinks on the first touch of the enemy. And ical of that delicacy which shrinks from even the lowly worm has some title to the communion with all that is rude or base. poet's regard, because of its utter degrada- Touch but its gorgeous wings, and their tion, and the circumstance of its being, of beauty falls away-immure the woodland all living things, most liable to injury, at the wanderer in captivity, and it pines and d es same time that it is one of the least capable -let the breath of the storm pass over -t, of resistance or revenge. and in an instant it perishes. Passing slightly over the multitudinous The moth is less splendidly beautlful than family of insects, we leave the beetle to his the butterfly. It has a graver character, evening flight-the grasshopper, whose and seeks neither the sunshine nor the flowmerry chirp enlivens the wayside traveller ers of summer; yet it is liable to be de-the bee, perhaps the most poetical of any, stroyed by the same degree of violence. from his opposite qualities of collecting honey Supported by the same slight thread of life, THE POETRY OF ANIMALS. 41 and scarcely perceptible amongst the even- conveying the following severe, yet just reing shadows, except as an animated speck proof to man. of moving mist, it yet posspsses one striking characteristic, of which the poet fails not to," Has God, thou fool! work'd solely for shy good avail himself-a tendency to seek the light, Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food! to seek Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, even when that light must prove fatal to its For him as kindly spreads the flow'ry lawn. own existence. How many poetical ideas Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings has this simple tendency excited! But Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. has this simple tendency excited! But Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat? enough on this fertile theme. The reader Loves of his own, and raptures, swell the note. will doubtless be better pleased to examine The bounding steed you pompously hestride, Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride. the subject farther for himself, than to have Is thine alone the seed that strews the plainde additional instances of the poetry of animals The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. placed before his view. Thine the full harvest of the golden year? Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer." It is sufficient to add, in continuation of this subject, that without allowing ourselves time and opportunity to study the nature and habits of animals, we can never really feel that they constitute an important part of the THE POETRY OF EVENING. world which we inhabit. We may read of them in books, and even be able to class ASCENDING in the scale of poetical interthem according to their names and the ge- est, the seasons might not improperly ocnera to which they belong, but they will not cupy the next place in our regard, had they enter into our hearts as members of the not already been especially the theme of one brotherhood of nature, claiming kindred of our ablest poets. To describe the feelings with ourselves, and entitled to our tender- which the seasons in their constant revoluness and love. Those who have known this tions, are calculated to excite, would therefellowship in early life will never lose the re- fore only be to recapitulate the language membrance of it to their latest day, but will and insult the memory of Thomson. There continue to derive from it refreshment and is one circumstance, however, connected joy, even as they tread the weary paths that with this subject which demands a molead through the dark passage of a sordid ment's attention here. It is the preference and troubled existence. The difference be- for certain seasons of the year evinced by tween those who study nature for tlem- different persons, according to the tone or selves, and those who only read of it in temperament of their own minds. There books, is much the same as between those are many tests by which human character who travel, and those who make themselves may be tried. In answering the simple acquainted with the situation of different question, "which is your favourite season?" countries upon a map. The mind of the tra- we often betray more than we alre aware of veller is stored with associations of a moral at the time, of the nature of our own feelings and intellectual character, which no map and character. It is no stretch of imaginacan suggest; and he who occasionally re- tion to believe, certainly no misstatement of signs his soul to the genuine influence of fact to say, that the young and the innocent nature as it is seen and felt in the external (or the good, who resemble both) almost in(world, will lay up a rich store of deep and variably make choice of spring as their faprecious thought, to be referred to for amuse- vourite season of the year; while the natu- ment and consolation through the whole of rally morbid and melancholy, or those who his after life. have made themselves so by the misuse of Had Pope, our inmortal poet, not culti- their best faculties, as invariably choose ]i vated this intimate and familiar acquaint- autumn. Why so few make choice of sum- i ance with the nature and habits of animals, mer is not easy to say, unless the oppressive he would never have thought them of suffi- sense of heat is too powerful in its influence cient importance to be made instrumental in upon the body to allow the mind to receive __ 42 THE POETRY OF LIFE. any leeply pleasurable sensations, or be- other man, the depth and the intensity of the cause during the summer there is such a mind's worst malady, tells us thatconstant springing up of beauty, such an unceasing supply of vigour in the animal and ", The glance of melancholy is a fearful gift;' vegetable world, that our ideas of spring creand fearful indeed, is that insatiable apply carried on until the commencement of ar n uTi e cmmernme priation to her own gloomy purposes with autumn. There are a still smaller number which melancholy endows her victims. of individuals who venture to say they love earful would it be to read and sinful to Fearful would it be to read and sinful to the dark days of winter, because, in order to write, how melancholy can distort the fairest find our greatest enjoyment in this season, picture, extract bitterness fro. picture, extract bitterness from all things we must possess a fund of almost unintersweet and lovely, darkness from light, and rupted domestic happiness, and few there s a I anguish-unmitigable anguish-from what are who can boast of this inestimable blesswas benificently intended to beautify and to ing; few indeed who, when thrown entirely bless. upon the resources which their own hearts, Each day, also, has its associations, so their own homes, or their own families afnearly resembling those of the seasons, that ford, do not sometimes wish to escape, if only it will not be necessary to examine in their to enjoy the refreshment of green fields, free separate characters the natural divisions of air, and sunny skies. morning, noon, evening, and night. But The good and the happy, the young and evening, as being universally allowed to be the innocent, whose hearts are full of hope, highly poetical, may justly claim a large find peculiar gratification in the rich pro- share of our attention. mise of spring, in the growth and perfection of plants, the rejoicing of the animal creation, " Now came still evening on, and twilight gray and the renovated beauty of universal na- Had in her sober livery all things clad." and the renovated beauty of universal nature. There is within themselves a kind of These words occur immediately to every sympathy, by which they become a part of poetical mind on the first consideration of the harmonious whole, a grateful trust this solemn and lovely hour. Indeed, they which accords with this promise, a springing occur so familiarly, that, if it were possible up and growth of joyful expectation which they could lose their charm, it would already keeps pace with the general progress of the have been destroyed by frequency of repetinatural world, and echoes back a soul-felt re- tion. But these two lines contain within sponse to the voice which tells of happiness. themselves a volume of poetic feeling, that How different in all, except their power will live imperishable and unimpaired, so over the feelings, are the sympathies which long as the human mind shall retain its are called forth by the contemplation of highest and purest conceptions of the nature autumn! The beauty or rather the bloom of real poetry. The very words have a of nature, is then passing away, and the resemblance to the general lull of nature gorgeous and splendid hues which not un- gently sinking into the silence of nightfrequently adorn the landscape remind us too " Now came still evening on;" " twilight forcibly of that mournful hectic which is gray" presents us with more than a picture known to be a fatal precursor of decay. -with a feeling-a distinct perception of Every thing fades around us like our own thin shadows, and white mists gradually hopes; summer with her sprightliness has blending together; and the last line comleft us, like the friends of our youth; while pletely imbodies in a few simple words, our winter, cold winter, comes apace; alas! too ideas of the all-pervading influence of like the chilling prospect that lies before us evening, with its universally tranquillizing, in the path of life. Thus, imagination mul- solemn and mysterious power. l tplies our gloomy associations, and renders The mystery of twilight is not the least autumn the season best beloved by the mor- charm it possesses to an imaginative and bid and cheerless, for very sympathy with poetic mind. From the earliest records of its tendency to fade. intelligent beings, we learn that mystery He who knew, perhaps better than any has ever been inconceivably powerful in its THE POETRY OF EVENING. 43 influence upon the human mind. All false That excitement is uniformly the accomreligions have been built upon this founda- panirnent of mystery, is owing to this cause; tion, and even the true has its mysteries, for mystery is not the subject of any one particwhich we reverence it the more. Those ular train of ideas, nor can it exclusively ocsubjects which excite the deepest veneration cupy the reasoning powers, for want of someand awe, strike us with an indefinite sense thing tangible to lay hold of; but while the of something which we do not-which we senses or feelings are strongly affected by cannot, understand; and the throne of the that which is new, or strange, or fearful, or the monarch, by being veiled from vulgar eyes, magnificent, it opens a field in which all the is thus invested with a mystery to which it faculties of the mind, set at liberty from phyis greatly indebted for its support. Were sical restraint, may rush forth to expatiate all maihiind clearly convinced of the inesti- or combat, without any one gaining the asmable value of true virtue, were they all cendency. Sometimes fear for a moment noble, generous, and devoted, and were all takes the lead, but the want of sufficient sovereigns immaculate, they might then go proof or fact to establish any definite cause forth amongst their people, defended only by of alarm, encourages hope; love peoples their own dignity, supported only by the the unfathomable void with creatures of affection and esteem of their subjects. But its own formation; or hate, revenge, and since we have learned in these degenerate malice wreak their fury upon they know times that kings are but men, and since not what; while imagination, the sovereign there are base natures abroad, ever ready queen of mystery, reigns supreme and unto lay hold of and expose the slightest proof disturbed over her own aerial realm. Thus of fallibility in their superiors, it is highly does mystery afford illimitable scope for necessary to the maintenance of regal ma- the perpetual activity and play of all the jesty, that the sovereign should be raised thoughts or passions of which we are capaabove the cognizance of vulgar penetration; ble. By allowing liberty of operation to all, that properly initiated members should con- the violence of each is neutralized, and hence stitute the court, within whose penetralia the power of mystery over the mind of man. the ignorant and common herd are not per- It may be argued, that mystery has often mitted to intrude; and that in order to give been the means of exciting the most violent the mandate which issues from the throne, passions, such as fear or superstition. Mysthe awful solemnity of an oracle, its irrevo- tery has unquestionably been made by artcable veto should be uttered unseen. ful men the means of exciting the curiosity, It next becomes our business to inquire and arresting the attention of their deluded how mystery possesses this power to fasci- followers; and thus rendering them more nate the strongest mind, and to lead captive willing and servile recipients of false views, the most tumultuous passions. or base desires. But in order that either Along with mystery, there is invariably fear or superstition should be excited to any some degree of excitement; and excitement, violent degree, it must have been necessary if we may judge by the general conduct to dissolve the veil of mystery, and reveal and pursuits of mankind, is, when not ex- distinctly some palpable object of dread, or tended so as to create a feeling of pain, a subject of mistaken worship. universally delightful sensation. In speak- But to return from this digression to the ing of a love of excitement, those who look more pleasing consideration of that delightgloomily upon human nature, are apt to ful hour of day, which brings to every creadescribe it as a defect; but would it not be ture the most powerful and indissoluble assomore philosophical, as well as more consis- ciations with what it loves best. tent with a grateful disposition, to regard this principle as having been implanted in To the young bird its mother's brooding wings." our nature to stimulate us to exertion, and to render the various occupations of life a Before the mystery of evening, if not in a succession of pleasing duties, rather than of higher degree, we are charmed with its reirksome toils? pose. The stillness that gradually steals -----: ---- ---- - ~ —-- - -- ---------- ----- -~ —— ~ —-I —----- -rrr~~~ ~~~~~~~~~"~-"3-~ —-~~ —~"1" —-* —-e~ 44 THE POETRY OF LIFE. over the creation extends to our own hearts. might have been forgotten. The evening Passion is lulled, and if we are not, we long melody of the birds, stealing gently upon the to be at rest. humid air, and heard more distinctly than " I will return at the close of day, ) says their noon-day song, calls up the image of the wanderer as he goes forth; and in some friend with whom we have listened to the evening we begin to listen for his wel- that sound; nor can we pursue our wonted come, though weary step. "It is but an- evening walk without being remindec cy the other day of toil," says the labourer as he very path, the trees, the flowers, and even brushes away the morning dew, "In the the atmosphere, of that familiar interchange evening I shall rest again;" and already his of thought and feeling, never enjoyed in such children are watching at the cottage door, perfection as at the close of day. But, and his wife is preparing his evening meal. above all other ideas connected with this All day the rebellious child has resisted the hour, we love the repose of evening. Every chastisements of love; but in the evening living creature is then sinking to rest, darkhis soul is subdued, and he weeps upon ness is stealing around us like a misty curhis mother's bosom. We can appease the tain, a dreamy languor subdues our harsher yearnings of the heart, and drive away re- feelings, and makes way for the flow of all flection-nay, we can live without sympathy, that is tender, affectionate, or refined.. It is until evening steals around our path, and scarcely possible to muse upon this subject tells us with a voice which makes itself be without thinking of the return of the wanheard, that we are alone. In the freshness derer, the completion of labour, the folding of morning, and through all the stirring oc- of the weary wing, the closing of innocent cupations of busy noon, man can forget his eyes in peaceful slumber, the vesper hymn, laker; but in the solemn evening hour he and the prayer or thanksgiving with which feels that he is standing in the presence of every day should be closed. his God. In the day-time we move on with How is it, that when there is so much the noisy multitude, in their quest of sordid even in external nature to remind ungrategain, or we wear without weariness or com- ful man of his duty, he should be backward plaint the gilded chains which bind down in offering that tribute which is due to the I the soul, or we struggle against the tide of Author of all his blessings? Is it so hard a time and c,:cumstance, battling with straws, thing to be thankful for the bountiful sun, and spending our strength in fruitless war- when we see what a train of glory goes fare; but in the evening we long to find a path along with his departing light? For the where, the flowers are not trampled down by gentle and refreshing dews which come many feet, to burst the degrading bonds of with timely nourishment to the dry and custom, and to think and feel more like im- drooping plants? For those very plants, mortal beings; we see the snmall importance and their unspeakable utility and beauty? of those contested points about which so ma- For all that the eye beholds of loveliness or ny parties are at war, and we become willing magnificence, or that the ear distinguishes to glide on with the stream, without fretting of harmony? But above all, for that unourselves about every weed or feather on its wearied sense of enjoyment with which it is surface; esteeming peace of mind and good- possible for man to walk through the creawill towards men far before the defence of tion, rendering thanks to his Creator at any particular set of opinions, or even the every step. establishment of our own. Far be it from the writer of these pages to Evenrng is the time for remembrance; for advocate the vain philosophy of past ages. — the poweis of the mind having been all day the vague notion long since discarded from in exercise, still retain their activity, and the rational world, that the contemplation being no longer engaged in necessary or of the grandeur, beauty, or even perfection worldly pursuits, branch out into innumera- of the universe, is sufficient of itself to lead ble associations, from things present and the heart to God. I speak of such contemvisible, to those which are unseen and re- plation as being the natural and suitable mote, and which but for such associations exercise of an immortal mind, and of the THE POETRY OF THE MOON 45 glories of creation as corroborating evidence her purity; nor have all the scenes of dethat a gracious will has designed the rmys- gradation, fraud, or cruelty, which her tery of our being, and that a powerful hand mysterious light has illuminated, been able, continues to uphold the world which we in- even in these clear-sighted and practical habit. I speak of the soothing calm of even- times, to render less solemn and imposing, ing, not t;ith the puerile notion that mere that soul-pervading influence, with which the sentimental musing is conducive to the vi- moon is still capable of inspiring those who tality of the true spirit of Christianity-that have not entirely subdued or sacrificed the spirit which is compelled to engage in active tender, generous, or sublime emotions of warfare with the world, and sometimes to their nature. maintain its stand amidst all that is repulsive In power, and majesty, and glory, the sun to the poetic mind; but I speak of the even- unquestionably claims our regard before all ing hour as a season of repose and whole- other objects of creation. But the sun is some refreshment to this spirit, and of all less poetical than the moon, because his atother enjoyments derived from the admira- tributes are less exclusively connected with tion of nature as lawful, natural, and highly our mental perceptions. By combining the conducive to the feeling of thankfulness idea of heat with that of light, our associawhich unfailingly pervades the soul of the tions become more sensitive and corporeal, true Christian. and consequently less refined. The light of the sun is also too clear, and too generally pervading in its nature, to be so poetical as that of the moon. It leaves too little for the THE POETRY OF THE MOON. THE POETRY OF THE MOON. imagination. All is revealed to the eye; and myriads of different objects being thus To write a chapter on the moon, appears, made distinctly visible, the attention wants at first sight, a task no less presumptuous that focus of concentration which gives inin itself, than inevitably fruitless in its con- tensity and vividness to all our impressions. sequences —fruitless as regards that kind of "But the stars," some may ask, " are they interest which on behalf of the queen of not sufficiently distant and magnificent for l night has been called forth and sanctified sublimity-mild enough for purity-beautiful i by the highest powers of genius, as well as enough for love?" Yes; but they are too abused and profaned by the lowest. To distant-too pure-too cold for human love. apostrophize the moon, even in the most They come not near our troubled world, they ecstatic lays, would, in the present day be smile not upon us like the moon. W'e feel little less absurd than to attempt that they are beautiful. We behold and admire. No wonder that the early dwellers "To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, admire. No wonder that the early dwellers To thld refined ow a perfume o'er the violet, upon earth should have been tempted to beTo smoothe the ice, or add another hue hold and worship. But one thing is wanting, Unto the rainbow, or with lantern light that charm, whether real or ideal which To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish. co connects or seems to connect, our mental Yet in order to prove that the moon is of sufferings, wants, and wishes, with some all natural and sensible objects, pre-eminent- high and unattainable source of intelligence ly poetical, no other facts need be adduced -the charm of sympathy. Thousands of than these; that all the effusions of disordered purified and elevated iminds have expatiated fancy whichhave been offered at her shrine, upon the stars as the most sublime of all since first the world began, have not deprived. created objects, and so unquestionably they the queen of night of one iota of her regal are;* but sublimity is not all that constitutes dignity; not all the abortive efforts of deceptive art, (and not a few have presented a Every one disposed to doubt this truth, may find I mockery of her inimitable beauty,) have, in full conviction by reading in Montgomery's Lectures on the slightest degree impaired the charm of Poetry, a few pages devoted to this subject; perhaps |her loveliness; not all the allusions of siclkly the most poetical effusion that ever flowed from an eloquent pen, inspired by a refined imagination, a highly sentiment, or vulgar affectation, have sullied gifted mind, and a devout spirit. 46 THE POETRY OF LIFE.j the essence of poetic feeling. The spirit of of these lays is proof of a totally different poetry dwells not always in the high and nature, and has nothing to do with the case in distant heavens, but loves to vary its exist- point; the inspiration being in the moon hertence by the enjoyment of tender and home- self-the virtue of that inspiration in the souls felt delights. Thus, we are not satisfied, of her votaries. Here however we find adeven in our hightest intellectual pursuits, ditional, and perhaps stronger proof of the " unless we find something to appropriate, and same fact; for not only have poets of every call our own; and thus while we admire the age, and every country, found in the queen of stars as splendid portions of the heavens, we night a never-tiring theme; but she has unboth admire and love the moon, because, questionably the honour of having called forth still retaining her heavenly character, she some of the most memorable, and most brilapproaches nearer to our earth. We can- liant effusions of poetic genius. To quote not look upon the stars without being struck illustrative passages on this subject would with a sense of their distance, their unattain- be to fill volumes, and to make selections able height, the immeasurable extent of would be almost impossible, amongst inspace that lies between the celestial fields stances so numerous and so fraught with inwhich they traverse with a perpetual har- terest; but there is one scene in the Mermony of motion, and the low world of petty chant of Venice which deserves particular nocares where we lie grovelling. But the tice, for the natural and simple manner in moon-the placid moon, is just high enough which the poet has given us the most perfect for sublimity, just near enough for love. So idea of an exquisite moonlight night, apbenign. and bland, and softly beautiful is her parently without effort, and almost without ever-beaming countenance, that when per- description. It is where the two lovers, essonifying, as we always do, the moon, she caped from danger and suspicion, first find seems to us rather as purified than as having time and opportunity for the quiet enjoyment been always pure. We feel as if some fel- which is best appreciated after imminent lowship with human frailty and suffering risk. In this picture (for it is nothing less) had brought her near us, and almost wonder we behold most strikingly the master hand whether her seasons of mysterious darkness by which the scene is drawn. Here is no babare accompanied with that character of high bling aboutsilverrays,'" soft influence,'' smiand unimpeachable dignity which attends ling light;' the passage commences merely her seasons of light. Her very beams, when with —' The moon shines bright;' and then they steal in upon our meditations, seem so perfect is the enjoyment of the lovers, both fraught with tenderness, with charity, and in each other and in all that surrounds them, love: so that we naturally associate them that they immediately strike off comparisons in our own minds, not so much with super- between that particular night, and others that natural perfection, as with that which has have been vividly impressed upon their imbeen refined and sublimated by a moral aginations, not by observation, but by pasprocess. We call to remembrance the dark- sages from (perhaps their favourite) authors, est imputation ever cast upon the moon, in -where the moon has been called in to aid those dark times when to be a goddess was the representation of some of the most strikby no means to be free from every moral ing scenes. Had the happiness of Lorenzo stain; and then, in fanciful return for all her and Jessica been less absorbing, or had the sweet, and cheering, and familiar light, we night been less beautiful, they might have sometimes offer a sigh of pity to the vestal told us how, and upon what objects the Dian, that she should have paid so dearly moon was then shining, But with them all for having loved but once, and that with so was complete. They had no comments to pure a flame, that it disturbed not the dreams make upon the lovely night, which we are of a slumbering shepherd boy. left to suppose too exquisite for description; To prove that the moon is of all visible ob- and after amusing themselves and each jects the most poetical, there needs no other other with simple, but most beautiful alluevidence than the number of poetic lays in sions to classic history, they very naturally which she has been celebrated. The merit fall into that playful humour, which belongs THE POETRY OF THE MOON. 47 to perfect happiness, and descending from deep gloom of the surrounding woods, the their poetic flights, turn upon upon each other the narrow defile, or the hollow cave, within sportive badinage, which is more familiar whose confines the queen of night, with all to those who are but "earthly happy." her power, and all her splendour, is unable They are then interrupted by the entrahce to penetrate. of a messenger; but still the mind of the Another striking attribute of the moon poet having been filled to overflowing with and one which seems more especially to his own idea, or rather his own intense feel- bring her within the sphere of human syming of this ecstatic night, he goes on after the pathy, is her alternate darkness and illumifirst exuberance of fancy has been expended nation; which last is familiarly spoken of as in mere association, to give us some de- a periodical visitation; for so powerful are scription of the scene; and then follows that the senses of the imagination, that it is with I passage so highly imaginative and poetical, some difficulty we realize the truth, that yet withal so simple, that it seems but to em- when the moon is invisible to our eyes, she body in words, the faint dreams that have is in reality as present with us as when her floated through our own minds a thousand soft light salutes us in our nightly wandertimes without finding utterance: ings. Thus we hear perpetually of the con" How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! stancy, as well as the inconstancy of the Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music moon; Just as a similitude with either qualCreep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, ity may suit the poet's need. -Of her conBecome the touches of sweet harmony. stancy, because lost as she is to our outSit, Jessica. Look how the floor of Heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; ward perceptions, we are able to calculate There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, with undeviating certainty the hour of her But in his motion like an angel sings, return; of her inconstancy, because how Still quiling to the young-ey'd cherubims. return; of her onstancy, because how Such harmony is in immortal souls; profound soever are the devotions offered at But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay her shrine that shrine is no sooner invested Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." with the full splendour of her celestial In contemplating the different attributes brightness, than the ineffable light begins to of the moon, first, and most striking, is that wane, and finally disappears. distinctness of light and shade which charac- From the long established custom of apterise her influence over external nature. pealing to the moon in our descriptions of Here are no lesser lights, no minor shadows mental suffering, we might almost be led to to constitute a medium between the two ex- pronounce that melancholy was one of her trenmes. The whole earth is under the do- chief characteristics, were not this poetical minion of two ruling powers; and every ma- propensity easily accounted for, by the enterial object presents on one side a surface joyments of the generality of mankind being distinctly visible, while the other is lost in of such a nature as to confine their attention impenetrable darkness. Not a wreath of to social, stirring, mundane subjects of irlterivy, a projecting cornice, or a broken turret, est or excitement; and thus to leave little but the moon invests it with a beauty of her time, and less inclination, for making obserown, more attractive to the eye, and more vations upon the moon: while under the inpotent in its influence upon the imagination, fluence of melancholy, which has in all from the depth of mysterious shadow by minds the same tendency to silence, solitude, which it is contrasted. Beautiful as her and contemplation, the eye is naturally dilight unquestionably is, when it falls upon rected to scenes of repose and serenity, and the verdure of the sloping bank, where every more than all, to the solemn aspect of tlhe flower, and leaf and tendril have their shining heavens. It is here that we look for peace, surface contrasted with their shadow, we and we all can remember, when through the should scarcely pause to offer our tribute of long watches of the sleepless night, the admiration, bytelling how often the poet's lay meoni was our only companion, the only has recorded events which took place " on friend who was near -us under the pressure such a night," but that in glancing from this of our calamity, or who appeared to sympascene of silvery brightness, we behold the thize in our distress. f 48 THE POETRY OF LIFE. Surely the sweet influence of the queen the busy world, chasing their different obof night is in its own nature more cheering jects of ambition or desire, ill which we hold than melancholy. IH-ow many glad occasions no share: even our own hearts, though they of social and festive entertainment are regu- feel the same to us in their capability of suflated by the moon. "We will visit our fering, having learned to beat another tune, I friends when the moon is at the full "-" We to burn with different fires, to be vivified will return by the light of the moon — "We with a new life, or subject to a fatality wait for the moon before we set sail," is the which we were far from apprehending then. familiar language of every day; and how Yet the moon —the lovely moon, is still the much more must the mariner on the mighty same, shining on with the same ineffable efdeep rejoice in her welcome visitations, and fulgence-teaching us that constancy is not hail her nightly radiance as she rises over an empty name, though we and ours have the unfathomable abyss. Shines not the failed to find the reality-that there is purity moon through the grated lattice of the pri- and peace beneath the heavens, though we son, firom whence all other gentle comforters are still wandering in fruitless quest of both are excluded, smiling upon the criminal in — that there is an inexhautible fountain of his feverish sleep, and reminding him when loveliness and delight, though we have he starts into waking consciousness, that wasted ours. while his brother man, perhaps weak, falli- And is not the moon most kind, most charible, and faulty as himself, had he been simi- table, that she reveals no deformities, brings larly circumstanced, is able to pursue, im- to light no defects, but ever shines onpeach, and condemn, according to the strict authority oflaws, which tale no coiace eaving that beautiful, that still was so, y la w h czan S And making that which was not." of want of knowlcdge, of early bias, and more than all, of peculiar and incalculable Oh! it is wearisome in our daily existence temptation; there is still mercy in the ever- to see the critic's eye for ever peering through lasting heavens-an eye that looks down a narrow focus of concentrated and partial upon his earthly sufferings, beholding light, to find out the specks upon the face of through a clear, and steady, and impartial the sun, the soil of the lily, the footprints of light, all that is hidden from the scrutiny of the butterfly upon the velvet petals of the man; and that an humble, solemn, and rose; listening with his ear sharpened to an heartfelt appeal, even from out his dungcon, acuteness that renders it sensible only of disbeneath his chains, or upon the fatal scaffold, cord, to detect the misapplication of tone and may yet be made to that higher tribunal, emphasis in the eloquence that shakes the whose judgments are as unparalled in mer- world, the wron( cadence in the voice that cy, as unimpeachable in justice. tells of anguish, the false note in the harIs not the moon, amidst all the chances mony of the spheres. Yet this is what men and changes that occur to us in this sublu- call wisdom-a wisdom which if it fails to nary scene, still, still the same? We recall subdue the ignorance and prejudice of manthe sweet and social evenings, when the kind, at least destroys the capacity for apmoon looked in upon our childish play, preciating the beauty and perfection of the through the trellice-work of vine and jessa- creation, and the desire to bow with mute mine that grew around our ancestral dwell- reverence and awe before its Creator. It is ing. How looks that dwelling now? The this wisdom which intrudes its unwelcome vine and the jessamine are rooted from the presence upon our daily walk, rendering that earth, the walls are broken down, and scarce- walk most wearisome, and the society we ly is one stone left upon another. Where meet there, infinitely worse than solitude. are the companions of those happy hours? But the night returns-the calm and silent Some have paid the debt of nature, and are night, and the sweet moon rising over the gone we ask not where; some are so altered eastern hills, goes forth upon her pathway in their loves and friendships, that we know through the heavens. Perchance an envious them not, or perhaps, they know not us; cloud advances, and her form is obscured by and others are scattered abroad throughout misty vapours; but they pass away, and THE POETRY OF THE MOON. 49 her smile looks sweeter than before. Upon Lost in a worla cf vague and unsatisfying the rugged precipice, the dark impenetrable thoughts, the moon steals in upon his mediforest, the restless waves of the ocean, " her tations. It is not with him as with more scft and solemn light" is falling, beautifying feeling minds, that memory rushes back whatever it shines upon, marking out as with with one tremendous bound jut with his a silver pencil the majestic outline of the wonted -aution and reserve, lie begins to recrag or promontory, but leaving the deep trace the pilgrimage of past years, the silent and frightful cavern at its base still unre- moonbeams lighting him unconsciously on vealed; tinging with radiant lustre the light his way, and leading him by the chain of boughs that wave and dance as if with very association back to his paternal home. He gladness in her welcome beams, the sprays enters again the once familiar habitation. of glittering ivy, or the lofty turrets of the He takes possession of the chair appropriated ancient tower, while passing in her peaceful to the darling boy, and along with it the progress over every scene of gloom and ter- many pure and lively feelings, which the ror, she seems to cast the dark places of the world had chased away. He listens to his earth into yet deeper shade; or, turning the father's gentle admonitions, and feels the affoam of the angry billows into crests of spark- fectionate pressure of his hand, upon his then ling light, the troubled track of the heaving unruffled brow. He hears his mother's voice bark into a silvery pathway, and the sails as she sings their evening hymn, and " Oh!" that flutter in the adverse gale, into the white the man of wealth exclaims, " that I might pinions of some angelic messenger, she be again that innocent and happy boy!" kindly offers to the imaginative beholder, a If he who embarks his whole heart in the picture of sublimity for that of danger-of sordid avocations of life, is necessarily driven trust for anxious fear-of hope for murmur- on to resign the noblest aspirations, and tening and despair. derest affections of his youth, the votetress Is not the moon also a faithful treasurer of fashion becomes if possible more heartof sweet and pleasant memories? We less, and more hardened in her servile and might forget (in this world there is much to despicable career: it is possible from this make us forget) what we learned before our cause that in order to act to the life the artifiminds were tainted by the envious struggle cial character she has assumed, it is necesfor pre-eminence, and the necessity of sordid sary that she should sometimes wear the gain, or soured by the disappointments in- semblance of feeling, just in that proportion, evitably attending both. The worldly man, and according to that peculiar mode, which the sharp keen bustler of the city, sees little may best suit the selfish purpose of the moto call back his thoughts to the days of un- ment; and this empty mockery of the best sophisticated innocence, and still less to re- and loveliest attributes of human naturecommend to his now mature judgment, what of its affections, sympathies, and high capahe would call nothing better than his boyish bilities, has a more debasing and injurious blindness, to his own best interests. But the effect upon the mind, than the total forgetbodily frame in time wears out, the city feast fulness even of their outward character. becomes unpalatable to the sickly appetite, But the woman of fashion cannot always and civic honours are unable to support the keep her thoughts directed to the same brilhead they crown. Sleepless nights succeed.liant point. There will be moments when to wearisome days. Perhaps his attendant she suspects the potency of the idol to whom enjoys that repose, which he is unable to her only devotions have been offered. With purchase with all his wealth. To sum up her also the exhaustion of the bodily frame, the amount of his gold, no longer relieves will produce a pining after that which has the aching void of his heart. There is a been sacrificed at the altar of the worlc —a gnawing want still pressing upon him, even longing to lie down and rest, beneath ti:e at this late hour of the day, which all his sheltering wings of tle angel of peace. Perpossessions are unequal to supply; and he chance she has stolen unnoticed from the begins at last to question, whether they may busy throng, to breathe for one moment with not have cost him more than their real value. greater freedom at the open casement. She 4 50 THE POETRY OF LIFE. still hears the tread of the noisy dance-the The mariner at midnight on the deep sea, music-the glad voices-and she feels what looks forth when other eyes are sleeping, no heart is capable of feeling without a pang, towards the bright opening in the eastern that her presence is not necessary to the en- clouds, where the pale lustre of the rising pjyment of her reputed friends, and that moon gives welcome promise of her blessed when her head is laid within the grave they visitation. Soon her full round orb appears will still dance on, without being conscious in all its splendour, and the dark vapours that one familiar step is wanting in their float away, or, gliding gently past her merriment. Her soul is oppressed. She looks beaming face, receive the soft reflection of oit beneath the high blue silent heavens, her smile, before they pass into the undistinand the moon is there to welcome her as guishable chaos of night. High into the with a sister's smile. It is to the moon alone azure heavens she now ascends, while the that all human beings can appeal with an lonely helmsman chants to the heedless gale inward sense of sympathy; and to the moon the songs of his native land. He gazes at last she ventures to utter that complaint, upon the wide expanse of heaving water, which no ear has ever heard. " It was not and ever as his eye dwells upon that silvery thus!" the melancholy strain begins, but track of light that seems to lure him away tears-true, unaffected tears are rising, and to another world, recollections which the she looks down upon the clustering jessa- bustle of the day keeps down, and thoughts mine, whose delicate stars gleam out in the dear as the miser's hoarded treasure, rise moonbeams, and send forth their odorous within his breast, fresh and spontaneous; perfumes upon the gales of night. It was and he thinks how the same moon shone not thus that she, that splendid mourner, upon the woodbine bower where he first weary with the weight of her own diamonds, wooed the village maid, who blushed in her and sick of the selfishness of her own chosen innocent joy, and inwardly exulted in the friends, looked up to the face of the pale short-lived happiness of being a sailor's moon, in those hours when the moon looks bride. Has he not seen that bower again? fairest-those happy hours when even she, Yes, and the woodbine was still lovely, but the false one, was beloved. Her memory, his bride had lost her maiden bloom, and the only faculty which she has not been able the cares of a lonely and almost widowed to pervert, returns to the bright season of wife had made her prematurely old. Again i sincerity and youth. Again she is walking he has returned to that well-known spot[ by the side of one whom worlds could not that haven of his dearest hopes and the have tempted to violate her confidence, or babe that should have welcomed him with wound her love-one who was deserted for the kind name of father, was sleeping bea worthless rival, in his turn to be cast off neath a little grassy mound in the church-;or another, and then a third, and so on, yard, while he had been far away in its mntil the world at last became the only can- hour of agony, and its last cry had been undlidate for her affections, the only ruler of heard by him. Once more he has returned ler heart. " It was not thus!" she exclaims, to his deserted home. The mother too was a' that I was wont to look upon the moon. gone to her place of rest, and two humble Oh! give me back the loves, the friendships graves side by side were all the memorial of my early days. Restore the capability that remained of his domestic happiness. of trusting, even though I should still be de- What then? Does he wish that his marlceved! Awaken in my soul the faculty of riage day had never dawned? would he hope, though I should be disappointed still! extinguish the memory of the past? No, Rekindle my affections, that I may feel the though amidst the stir of the busy day, or possibility of loving, though I should never amongst his jovial comrades he thinks little be beloved again! Let me hear once more of his wife and child, yet in the solitude of the voice of kindness, though it should be the night watches when the moon is above strange to mine ear! Let me listen to the his head, and no sound is to be heard but language of truth, though it should c)ndemn the ripple of the water against the vessel's the whole of my past life!" side, he blesses that mild and gentle remem THE POETRY OF THE MOON 51 brancer, that she visits him in his loneliness, upon his homely mean, blessing the cup of to tell him those tales of tenderness to which which he drinks, and lighting the parents' his ear has become strange, and to open in way, as they seek the couch of their slumhis bold and hardy bosom those sweet bering cherubs to ask a blessing for tile fountains of human love which transform coming day, to return thanks for the past, the character of the rude sailor into that and then to enjoy the refreshment of peaceof the avenger of the injured, the father ful and untroubled sleep; over the waste of the orphan, and the protector of the help- unpeopled desert, the rich and fertile fields less. which surround the habitations of men, the Thus ever sweet and pleasant to the tempest-troubled ocean, or the hive of human watchful eyes of the wayfaring man, is the industry, it is the same moon that meets the moon as she rises from her throne of clouds. traveller's anxious gaze, and ever on his He turns to gaze upon that welcome face, lonely and distant course he feels it to be and thinks how many well-known and fa- the same whose rays are interwoven with miliar looks are directed to the same object. the thread of his early existence. Perchance he has been a wanderer through Yes, it is the same moon whose silver many lands, a voyager over the deep seas, crescent was hung in the blue heavens when a pilgrim of the world; yet ever on his the first night shadowed the infant world wayward course, the same mild moon has with its mighty and mysterious wing. It is been like a faithful and untiring friend, the same moon that rocks the restless tides speaking to him amongst a strange people from shore to shore, with a monotony of moin the native language of his heart, and tion that marks out the different epochs in the telling through the lonely night, sweet life of man, and over-rules his most momentidings of his wished-for home. Whether tous actions with a power which he is unaamid snow covered hills, through the frozen ble either to baffle or subdue. It is the same wilderness, along the skirts of the pine moon for the mystic celebration of whose forest, far, far away, she guides the solitary metamorphoses, the king of Israel erected an Laplander? or, in more sultry climes looks edifice, the most splendid that human indown through the foliage of the waving genuity could invent, or human labour conpalm tree, and glances over the bright sur- struct. It is the same moon for the visiface of the welcome waters, where the ble completion of whose perfect radiance, Indian laves his burning feet: whether high the Spartans, while yet their souls were above the tower, the minaret, or stately fired with the noblest ambition, sacrificed dome, she looks down, a silent and unmoved their share of glory in the memorable field spectator, upon the thickly-peopled city, the of Marathon. It is the same moon which perpetual stir, the hurry and the rush of busy inspires the most ecstatic dreams of the enlife; or far away in the silence and solitude thusiast, giving to his earth-born visions, a of some lone isle of the ocean, touching refinement and sublimity, which belong only with her sparkling radiance the leaves and to that imaginative realm, over which the blossoms of that nameless and uncultured queen of night presides. It is the same garden, and the rippling waves that rise moon upon which the eyes of countless and fall, and lull themselves to rest upon inyriads are nightly gazing, but which never that unknown shore: whether through the yet inspired one unholy thought, awakened richly curtained window of the palace, her one mean or sordid feeling, or called forth modest light steals gently in, and gliding one passion inimical to the maintenance of over the marble floor, or along the tapestried " peace on earth and goodwill towards men." walls, rest in its silence and purity upon the It is the same moon which personifies m her crimson canopy of kings; or where the cot- refulgent orb that bright link of spintual tage of the herdsman stands upon the lone connection between this troubled life, and one mnpor, silvers the mossy turf beside his door, that is without anxiety, and without tears; covering the grey thatch of the mouldering hanging her single lamp of ineffable radiance roof with her garment of beauty, and look- above our nightly slumbers, like a beacon of ing in with her quiet and approving smile hope to lure us to a better land —returning 52 THE POETRY OF LIFE. again, and again to this earthly sphere, to It is unnecessary to state, that happin'ess, warn us of the danger of delay, to cherish in one shape or another, is the great end we our heavenward aspirations, and to teach us have in view, in all our pursuits and avocathat there is a love, (Oh! how unlike the tions; whether that happiness consists m love of man!) as constant and untiring in its amassing or expending money; in our perfaithfulness, as slow to avenge disobedience sonal and sensual gratifications, or in the and neglect. aggrandisement of others; in maintaining the station to which, by birth or education, 00. we have become attached, or in raising ourselves to a higher scale of society; in obtainTHE POETRY OF RURAL LIFE. ing and securing to ourselves the refinements and luxuries of life, or in cultivating BEFORE entirely quitting the fascinating the mental powers; in looking far and deep, employment of tracing out the poetical asso- both into the visible and the intellectual ciations of particular objects in nature, it is world, for those principles of consistency, necessary to add a few remarks upon the beauty, and harmony, which owe their deeffect produced upon the mind by rural velopment to an almighty hand; and in scenery in general. recognising the work of that hand in every The great difficulty in the task I have un- thing around and within us, from the simdertaken, a difficulty which presents itself plest object of sense, to the most sublime and most strikingly at this stage of the work, is majestic source of contemplation. to avoid the folly of being too sentimental, The question is not, under which of these or rather to escape the charge of wishing to forms mankind is most addicted to look for lead the mind away from what is substan- happiness, but under which of these forms tially useful, to that which is merely vision- the happiness there in found, is likely to be ary. If the major part of society in the most conducive to the cultivation and refinepresent day consisted of love-stricken poets ment of that part of his nature which is comand languishing girls, mine would indeed be mitted to him as a sacred trust, and will a scheme unnecessary and ill devised; but have to be rendered up, either elevated or as the tendency of our present system of ed- debased, for eternity. I lknow that poetry ucation, our conversation, habits, and modes is not religion; and that a man may dwell of thinking, is towards the direct opposite of in a region of poetical ideas, yet far from his sentimentality, we may fairly presume, that God: but we learn from the Holy Scripin the opinion of all candid and competent tures, whose whole language is that of poejudges, this work will be considered harm- try, as well as by the slightest experimental less, to say the least of it; and that the wri- knowledge of the subject, that poetry may ter will have due credit given for an earnest be intimately associated with religion, and endeavor to assist in rescuing the spirit of that, so far from weakening its practical inpoesy from the oppression of vulgar tyran- fluence, it may be woven in with our familiar ny, and in guarding the temple of the muses duties, so as to beautify what would otherfrom the profanations of avarice and dis- wise be repulsive, to sweeten what is bitter, cord. and to elevate what we have been accusThe character of the cultivated portion of tomed to regard as mean or degraded. the present race of mankind is too practical, It is not thus with sordid or artificial life. too bustling, too commercial, I might almost Poetry neither can, nor will dwell there. say, too material, to admit of the least ap- The atmosphere is too dense, and those who prehension that ideas should be brought to inhale it acquire a taste for its impurities, stand in the place of facts, that learning upon the same principle as that on which should be superseded by sensibility, or that the victim of habits more gross and vicious vague notions about the essences of things learns to love the odour of the deleterious should be preferred to a just and circum- bowl, because it is associated with the gatistantial knowledge of the actual substances fication of his brutal appetites. of those things themselves. I am far from wishing that all men were THE POETRY OF RURAL LIFE 53 poets; or that the practical and necessary poet of eminence in his art, and but few inrules of education, should give place to the tellectual characters remarkable for the best lawless vagaries of fancy, or the impulse of use of the highest endowments, ever lived, I feelings uncontrolled: but I do wish that who had not at some time or other of their these rules and the attention they require, lives, studied nature for tLemselves, imbibed did not occupy the whole season of youth, strong impressions from their own observawithout leaving time then to feel that they tion of the external world, and from these are essential. I do wish that men and wo- impressions drawn conclusions of the utmost men too, would sometimes pause in their importance to society at large. hurry after mere verbal knowledge, to think He whose mind is once deeply imbued for themselves; and turn away occasionally with poetic feeling, may afterwards entel from the pile of fresh books which every day into the ordinary concerns of life, and even sees placed before them, to study that which engage in the active commerce of the world, never was, and never can be written-the without losing his elevated character. It is wide field of nature; not only as it lies spread only when substituted for common sense, before their actual view, but as it expands in that poetic feeling can be absurd or contheir own minds, teaching them by the temptible. Blended with our domestic ocgradual unfolding of the eternal principles cupations, its office is to soften, harmonize, of truth, that we have faculties of the heart, and refine; and carried along with us as well as of the head, and that we must through the more conspicuous duties of hereafter render an account of a moral as social and public life, it is well calculated to w ell as of an intellectual nature. remind us, that there is a higher ambition;How far my impressions in favor of a than that of accumulating wealth, and that country life, may arise from early habit and we have capabilities for mtellectual happiassociation, I am not prepared to say; and ness, which may be freely and fully exerI must be candid enough to grant, that the cised without interference with our worldly state of society in remote and isolated dis- interests. tricts, does not present an aspect at all calcu- It is not then by merely dwelling in the _ated to support the idea that our moral facul- country, that men become poetical; nor by ties are improved in proportion to the means working their way by fair and honourable we enjoy of cultivating an acquaintance means, to pecuniary independence, that they with external nature; but the fact that this necessarily sacrifice the best part of their opportunity alone is insufficient to produce nature: though it must be confessed, that | the effect, by no means proves, that in con- the ordinary routine of city life, as it is genejunction with other advantages it is not pow- rally conducted, has a tendency to extinerfully conducive to the end desired. In the guish, rather than excite poetic genius. The countqiy, man may be as brutish, as stultified, principal reason why it does this, is obvious and as incapable of every gentle or sublime to the candid observer. The mind as well emotion, as in the city he may be gross, sel- as the body is always in need of food, and fish and insensible to the happiness and this necessity it naturally prefers to supply, misery of others: but it is no more the fault with the least possible expense of pain or of nature when the eye has not been opened labour. If facts of great number and variety to behold her beauties, than it is the fault of are continually set before us, little attention I the musician when his auditors are without will be paid to principles; because facts can the sense of hearing. I speak of the enjoy- be received with no exertion, while princiment which nature is capable of affording, ples must be investigated and examined, to not of that which it necessarily forces upon be in any degree understood. In towns, the man, whether he looks for it or not; nor news of the day is eagerly inquired after, does the fact, that remote dwellers in the and public journals, travellers, and fieqttent country have amongst themselves a very meetings, furnish for the general demand a low standard of intellectual merit, prove any- constant supply of facts; while in the counthing against my argument; since I believe try even facts have often to be sought for it may be asserted with confidence, that no with considerable labour and indus ry, and 54 THE POETRY OF LIFE. can only be enjoyed, with long intervals be- the glory of the earth, for reasons which tween every fresh accession of intelligence. neither you nor we can understand; and Thus a real energetic mind, learns to con- that man, when he boasts too proudly of his nect an immense number of ideas, with the superiority in the creation, forgets that in few facts which do transpire in the country; the most malignant and injurious attribute but a mind of quiet and lethargic character, of the brute he is at least his equal. sinks into nothingness, and one of still lower And then our returning swallows, our grade, active only for loose or malicious seedtime, and harvest, our rains and thunpurposes, fills up the void in social commu- der storms, of which you think so little; why nion, with inferences falsely drawn, uncharit- they supply us with inexhaustible food for able inuendos ingeniously thrown out, and deep anxiety, earnest calculation, ardent conclusions too frequently botXl injurious and hope, and trembling fear; and sometimes unjust. with gratitude as warm as if the success I have said that a great deal may be made which crowned our labours, was visibly and of the few facts which do transpire in the palpably bestowed immediately by the hand country. "Impossible!" exclaims the pre- of the Giver of all good. We hail the birds cocious youth, learned alone in civic lore. of spring, as the blessed messengers of hope "You only hear the news once a week, and -the seed is scattered in faith-the harvest as to your facts, what are they? The re- is reaped in joy-the rains descend, and we turn of the swallow, seedtime, and harvest, give thanks for the opening of those founa shower of rain, or a thunder storm; and tains, whose source, and whose seal is above what is all this to the community at large?" — the thunders roll, and we bow before the I answer, it is a great deal to those indivi- terrors of the Almighty. duals who choose to reflect. It is true we Man may, unquestionably, enjoy the same are sometimes a week later than you, in sensations in the city. Surrounded by the learning what have been the movements of work of human hands, he may look up and a ccrtain foreign army, that a cabinet minis- bless the power which bestowed such faculter has been dismissed, and that an elope- ties and means upon his creatures; but it ment has taken place in high life. There is a fact which few will pretend to deny, are even facts similar to these, which occur that the more the mind is interested and ocwit iout ever reaching us at all, which is a cupied with artificial things, the more it is proof that they are of as little importance to carried away from the truth that is in nature; us, as the building of our rooks, the scatter- and the greater the number of objects which ing of our grain, or the reaping of our corn intervene between us and the great First to you. You snatch up the Morning Post, Cause of all, the less fixed and reverential and read of this interesting elopement; we are our views of heaven. We know by realearn with as much interest that the kite has soning that God is no more present in the seized our favourite dove. You read that a rolling thunder than in the social meeting, once popular statesman has been over- or the secret thought; but our impressions thrown, by the strength of opposing party; are often stronger and deeper than our reawe hear that a former servant of our own, soning: and when we stand alone in the sihas been dismissed from his place. You lent night, and look up to the starry heavens; read of the dismemberment of Poland; we when we watch the play of the lightning, or are startled with the intelligence, a few listen to the roaring blast; when we gaze hours earlier, that the fox has been making upon the wide expanse of heaving ocean, or dreadful ravages amongst our poultry. on the peaceful boscm of the lake, slumberWhat follows? Our conclusions are at ing in its mountain cradle at the feet of its least as philosophical as yours, and' if you majestic guardians, whose brows are:; the take time to reflect, it is most probable they sky, mantled with clouds, or crowned with will both amount to this-that the weak golden glory; when we watch the silvery must be the victims of the strong, all the fall of summer's evening dew, the sunset world over; that propensities to rapine, in the west, or the moon's uprising over the cruelty, and wrong, are permitted to deface eastern hills, we naturally look upon these in-._ THE POETRY OF RURAL LIFE. 55 tetesting phenomena as immediately influ- and vitality-the production of flowers and enced by an omnipotent hand, and advancing fruits-the source of streams-the planetary one step farther, penetrate within the veil, system-chemical agency —and the study of and find ourselves alone with God. electricity, that mighty and mysterious powWith regard to the mere amusements of er, which operates through earth and air the country, it is very natural for townspeo- in a manner yet but partialy understood, ple-such as are accustomed to games of though producing some of the most wonderskill and hazard-to dress-parties, plays, ful and sublime phenomena in nature. and concerts, to ask in what they can possi- Are these amusements of a kind to be bly consist. Let us in the first place observe neglected or contemned by a rational and ina group of children at play beneath the tellectual being? Are they not rather such flowery hawthorn, their cheeks suffused with as we ought to seek every possible means the rosy hue of health, and their bright eyes of rendering familiar and attractive to the sparkling with that inward joy which natu- youthful mind? And surely there can be rally animates the infant mind. Nobody no means more likely than to retire somecan tell what they are playing at-they do times within the bosom of nature, where the not know themselves. They have no names development of Almighty power is obvious or set rules by which their gambols are re- above, around, and beneath us. strained; but when they start off from their But above almost all other peculiarities sequestered retreat, bounding over the grass belonging to a country life, I would place like young fawns, you see at once that that homefeeling which has the power it is the fresh air, the glowing health, and through the whole course of' our lives to above all, the glorious liberty of the country bring back the wandering affections, and which constitutes their enjoyment. Then centre them in one point of space-one point they have an intimate and familiar acquaint- of importance, to a very limited portion of ance with every thing around them, with the community, but a portion consisting of the woods and the winding paths, the song our nearest and dearest connexions. In of the different birds, and the course of the towns there can be comparatively little of streams that come down from the hills. Up- this feeling. A man steps out of his door on all or most of these the seasons have con- immediately upon common ground. The siderable influence, and the welcome ap- house he lives in is precisely like his neighpearance of spring, the withering of autumn, bour's, one of a number which he returns to the heat of summer, and the winter's snow, without attachment, and leaves without rehave trains of association in the youthful gret. But in the country, not only the grass mind, which supply them with a perpetual we tread on, the paths, the trees, the birds source of amusement, blended with instruc- that sing above our heads, and the flowers tion. Added to which, they not unfrequent- that bloom beneath our feet, but the very ly have the care of domestic animals, and atmosphere around us, seem to be our own. feel almost as much interest in their fate as There is a feeling of possession in our fields, in that of their fellow-creatures. They soon our gardens, and our home, which nothing learn that their kindness allures, and that but a cruel separation can destroy; and their rebukes repel. This makes them ob- when absent, far away upon the deep sea, servant of the happiness and the misery of travelling in foreign lands, or driven from the creatures committed to their charge, and that home for ever, we pine to trace again lays the foundation of' social and benevolent the familiar walks, and wonder whether the feelings, which continue with them through woods and the green lawn are looking the the rest of their lives. As the mind acquires same as when they received our last firestrength and begins to investigate, what a well. In the haunts of busy life, the music field of inquiry then lies before them-the of our native streams comes murmuring fall of the rains-the density of the atmos- again upon our ear; we pause beneall the phere-the gathering of clouds-the fertility cage of the prisoned bird, because its voice of the earth-the principles of vegetation is the same as that which cheered our infan 56 THE POETRY OF LIFE. cy; and we love the flowers of a distant deluge disappeared from the face of the cointry when they resemble those which earth-that the art of man is impotent bloomed in our own. against the imperishable fabric upon which There are other wanderers besides those he rests-that the ploughshare never has whc stray through foreign realms-wander- been there-nor track of wandering beast, ers from the ways of God. Perchance we nor nest of soaring bird, nor hum of laden I have spurned the restrictions of parental bee-nothing but the winds, the rolling authority, and cast away the early visita- clouds, the lightning and thunder, those tretions of a holier love; but the homefeeling mendous agents of eternal Power, before which neither change of place nor character whom the boasted sovereign of creation lies can banish from our bosoms, renews the trembling in the dust. memory of our social ties, and draws us, What are his feelings when he reflects back to the deserted hearth. Along with that such as this new and mighty world that memory, associated with the soothing appears to him, such it will remain when he of affection which we have lived to want, and his, with their ambitious hopes and enand the wisdom of sage counsel which ex- vied honours, are buried and forgotten! perience has proved true, the tide of convic- These are sensations peculiar to the situation rushes in upon the burdened heart, and tion, which words are inadequate to describe. the prodigal rousing himself from the stupor Too deep for utterance, too powerful for of despair, exclaims, " I will arise and go to language, they teach a wisdom more promy father!" found than is to be acquired in all the It is difficult for those whose hearts and schools of man's devise. I would ask again, homes are in the city, fully to appreciate the how the wanderer on the mountain's sum1: enjoyment arising from rural scenery; but mit has looked back to the narrow sphere I there are others whose homes are there, yet of social life which he has been wont to call whose hearts are not wholly absorbed in city the world? Its laws, conventional but arbinews, and scenes, and customs. These trary, by which his past conduct has been have probably, at some time or other of their influenced, what are they here? Scarcely lives, known what it was, not merely to more important than those which regulate make an excursion to Richmond, Hamp- the movements of a community of insects, stead, or Windsor, but to go far away into confined within the limits of a little mound the country, amongst the hills, and the val- of earth. Where now is the tremendous leys, where the rattling of wheels, or the and potent voice of public opinion, resoundcrack of the coachman's whip, was never ing in authoritative tones from house to heard. What, let me ask, were their sensa- house, from heart to heart? Upon the tlons, as they rose higher and higher up the mountain's brow, beneath the blue arch of side of the mountain, at every step taking in heaven, it is silent, lost, and forgotten. a wider view of the landscape, until it lay Where are the toils, the anxieties, the heartbeneath them like a garden, in which the aches, which consume the vitality of our exancient woods were fairy groves, and the istence, in the lower region of our sordid rivers threads of silver, now seen, now lost, and selfish avocations? Already they have but never heard, even in their floods and assumed a different character; and, despisfalls, at that far height. What are the feel- ing the nothingness-the worse than no-'ngs of the traveller, when standing on the thingness of their ultimate end, he resolves topmast ridge, a mere speck in that stupen- to give them to the winds, and henceforth dous solitude. while the fresh breezes of an to live for some more exalted and noble unknown atmosphere sweep past him, and purpose. he muses upon the past, and feels the im- There is no danger that man should feel pressive truth, that not only the firm rock on himself too little, or his Maker too great. which he stands, but the surrounding hills, If there were, he would do well to confine with their beetling brows, and rugged pin- himself to a sphere, in which nothing is so nacles, and hollow cs, a, are the same as obvious as the operation of man's ingenuity on that great day when the waters of the and power. But since we are all too much THE PCETRY OF RURAL LIFE. 57 engaged in the strife, and the bustle, and or if from inclination, settle themselves at a the eagerness which is necessary to insure time of life when they are incapable of an average of material comforts; since indi- judging of the privileges peculiar to either, vidualbty of character is too much sacrificed it is not to be supposed that they will always to the arbitrary rules of polished life; since make the best use of the advantages around by associating exclusively with man in an them; and those which abound in great artificial state of being, the generous too number and variety in the country, certainly frequently become selfish, the gentle hard- add weight to the moral culpability of such ened, and the noble debased: it is good to individuals as live stupidly beneath the open shake off occasionally the unnatural bondage sky, in the midst of fields, and woods, and by which the aspiring spirit is kept down, gardens, without exhibiting more mental to go forth into the woods and the wilds, energy than is displayed by their own flocks and to feel, though but for a day or an hour, and herds. that man was born for something better After remarking with regret. upon the than to be the slave of his own bodily wants. inertness and apathy of disposition too obEach time that we experience this real in- vious in the country, we must in common dependence of mind, we ascend one step justice observe, that where there does exist higher in the scale of moral existence; and sufficient mental energy for the display of if circumstance or dire necessity should pre- peculiar traits of character, such traits have vent the frequent recurrence of such feel- a degree of strength and originality seldom ings, we may at least secure a solid and found amongst the inhabitants of the city, lasting good, by learning in this way to where social institutions have a tendency to appreciate the mental elevation of others. bring individuals together upon common I am not, even on this subject, so blind an terms, and thus to render them more like enthusiast, as to attempt to support my ar- each other; and where the frequent contact gument in favour of rural life on the ground of beings similarly circumstanced rubs off of the greater appearance of vice in the their eccentricities, and wears them down town than in the country; because I am to the level of ordinary men. one of those who believe that the vacancy The friendships and acquaintances of the of mind, the gross bodily existence, the country are formed upon a system essentially moral apathy, which too frequently prevail different from that which holds society toamongst persons who lead an isolated life, gether in more compact and cengregated are quite as much at variance with the masses. The ordinary style of -visiting in Divine law, as vices which are more obvious, towns does little towards making people acand which consequently fall under the cogni- quainted with each other. Commonplace zance of human statutes. If amongst con- remarks upon generaltopics-remarks which gregated multitudes we are shocked to find so derive no distinctive character from the lips much of riotous indulgence, treachery, out- which utter them, fill up the weary hours rage, and crime of every description, we are, of each succeeding visit; while the same on the other hand, cheered with the earnest education, and the same style of living, are zeal, the perseverance, the disinterestedness, observable in every different set, of which which are brought into exercise to counter- each individual is but a part-separate but act these evils. While in the country, not distinct. But in the country, where peowhere men sit still and wonder alike at both ple meet more casually, and with less of extremes, the average of moral good is cer- common purpose and feeling, where they tainly not higher, because vice being less often spend a considerable time together obvious, the fear of its fatal consequences under the same roof, thrown entirely upon does not stimulate to those meritorious ex- their own resources, and unacquainted with ertions which proceed from true Christian any general or prevailing topic of conversalove. The country may be abused as well tion, they necessarily become more intias the town; and since the inhabitants of mately acquainted with each other's natural both, for the most part, fall into their stations character, with their individual bias of disfrom circumstances rather than inclination, position, and peculiar trains of thought. L58 THE POETRY OF LIFE. Dwelling apart from the tile of public may appear almost too homely and commonopinion, they know nothing of its influence place to be admitted under the character of or power, and having established their own poetical; but in their relation to the social opinions, formed for themselves from their affections, and to the principles of happiness personal observation, their sentiments and re- -that happiness which is rational, intellecmaiks are characterised by their originality, tual, and moral, they are in themselves and their affections by their depth. They highly poetical, and must often be recurred are in fact, though less polished, less artifi- to with tenderness and interest; at the same cial, and less learned in mere facts than time that they supply the bard with subjects their brethren and sisters of the city, infi- of pathos and pictures of delight. nitely more poetical, because their expres- Perhaps it may better please the fanciful sions convey more meaning, thei.r sentiments reader to turn to themes of a more imaginare more genuine, and their feelings more ary and unsubstantial nature, of which we fresh from the heart. find an endless variety in the associations In speaking of the intimate knowledge of afforded by rural habits, pursuits, and scenes. individual character which rural life affords We have observed in the former part of this abundant opportunities of obtaining, we work, that scarcely a beast, a bird, a tree, must not omit to mention the sum of happi- a flower, or any other visible object exists, ness derived from this knowledge when it ex- without an ideal as well as a real character; tends amongst our domestics, labourers, and but we have not yet entered upon that redependent poor. The master of a family in gion of poetic thought which is peopled with the country resembles a little feudal lord, and the imaginary beings of heathen superstiif he makes a generous use of his authority, tion, and which to the mind that is deeply may be served as faithfully, and obeyed as impressed with the beautiful imagery of implicitly through love, as any old English classic lore, is perpetually associated with rubaron ever was through fear. The agricul- ral scenery. No sooner are the gates of fantural labourer becomes attached to the soil cy opened for the admission of these ethereal which he cultivates. He feels as if he had oeings, than we behold them gliding in upon a property in the fields of his master, and our favorite haunts, now floating upon the this feeling extends not only to the produce sea of air, dancing in the sunbeams, or reof his toil, but, through many links of natural posing upon beds of violets; and then rushconnection, to the interest of his master and ing forth upon the destructive elements, the general good of his family; while on the riding on the crested waves, or directing the other hand, his own wants and afflictions, bolts of death. and those of his wife and children, are made Wandering in our fields and gardens, known through the kind visitations of charity, Flora, with lhx ever-blooming cheek and and soothed and relieved, with a familiarity coronet of unfading flowers, becomes our and unison of feeling which goes almost as sweet companion, while with her ambrosial far as almsgiving towards alleviating the pencil, dipped in the hues of heaven, she distresses of the poor. There can be no dis- tints the velvet leaves of the rose, scatters trust between families that have dwelt to- perfume over the snowy bosom of the lily, gether upon the same soil, in the mutual re- or turns in playful tenderness to meet the lation of master and servant, from genera- smiles of her wayward and wandering lover, tion to generation. Both parties are inti- the sportive and uncertain Zephyrus. We mately acquainted with the characters they penetrate into the depth of the forest, and have to deal with, and each esteeming the the vestal Huntress flits across our path with other's worth, can look upon their little her attendant nymphs. While seated under peculiarities with kindness, and even with the cool shadow of the leafy trees, or stoopaffection; while the mutual confidence, good inpg over the margin of the crystal stream, will, and clear understanding which subsist the Dryads bind their flowing hair. The between them, constitute a sure foundation harvest smiles before us with the glad profor substantial and lasting comfort. mise of the waning year, and joyfully the yelThese advantages, peculiar to rural life, low grain is gathered in; but we see the THE POETRY OF RURAL LIFE.9 19 deity of rural plenty, with her unextinguish- There is scarcely any human being so able torch and crown of golden ears, wan- selfish as to wish to feed upon joy alone; dering from field to field, heart-stricken, and and what a privilege it is, separated from alone; too mortal in her sufferings —to those who could rejoice with us, that w e can desolate in her divinity. We hail the purple share our happiness with nature! The soarmorning, Aurora rises in her rosy car, driv- ing lark, the bounding deer, and the sportive ing her snowy steeds over the cloud-capped lamb, animated with a joy like ours, become mountains, separating the hills from their our brethren and our sisters; while the misty canopy, and scattering flowers and dew same light buoyant spirit that fills our boover her fresh untrodden pathway through soms, smiles upon us from the shining heathe verdant valleys. We turn to the glori- vens, glows beneath us in the fruitful earth, ous sun as he rises from his couch of golden or whispers around us in the fresh glad gales waves, and ask the inspiration of Apollo for of spring. But, under the pressure of grief, the verse or for the lyre. We sail upon the this sympathy is most perceptible and most ruffled sea, where the Nereides, sporting availing, because sorrow has a greater tenwith the dolphins, lave their shining hair; dency than joy to excite the imagination, or where Neptune, striking his trident on the and thus it multiplies its own associations by foaming waters, bids the deep be still. We identifying itself with every thing that wears hear the bellowing of the stormy blast, and the slightest shadow of gloom. call on,Eolus to spare us; or we listen to I will not say that the world in general is the thunder as it rolls above our heads, echo- more productive of images of sadness than ing from shore to shore, and tremble lest the of pleasure; but from the misuse of our own forked lightning should burst forth from the faculties, and the consequent tendency of sovereign hand of Jove. our own minds, we are more apt to look for Fanciful as these associations are, (almost such amongst the objects around us; and too fanciful to afford us any real enjoyment,) thus in our daily observation, passing over they unquestionably supply the poet with what is lovely, and genial, and benign, we images of beauty not to be found in real fix our minds upon the desolating floods, the life; and they have also an important claim anticipated storm, the early blight, the canupon our consideration, from the place they kered blossom, the faded leaf, the broken occupy both in ancient and modern litera- bough, or the premature decay of autumn ture; as well as from the effect which this fruit. This, however, is no fault of nature's, system of imperfect and dangerous theology but our own; nor does it prove anything produced, in promoting the refinements of against the argument, that, whether happy art, and softening the habits and feelings of or miserable, we may find a responding a barbarous people. voice in nature, to echo back our gladness, It is pleasant to turn from such visionary and to answer to our sighs; that every feelsources of gratification to those which are ing of which we are capable, in its purest more tangible and true-to the smypathy and least vitiated state, may meet with similiwhich every feeling mind believes it possi- tude, and companionship, and association in ble to experienoe in nature. There is no the natural world; and above all, that he state of feeling to which we may not find who desires to rise out of the low cares of something in the elements, or in the natural artificial life, whose soul aspires above the world, so nearly corresponding, as to give us gross elements of mere bodily existence, and the idea of companionship in our joys and whose highest ambition is to render up that sorrows. True, it would be more congenial soul, purified rather than polluted, may find to our wishes, could we find this companion- in nature a congenial, faithful, and untiring ship amongst our fellow-creatures; but who friend. has not asked fobr it in vain? and turning to I cannot better conclude these remarks, the woods, and the winds, and the blue skies, than by quoting a passage from the writings has not believed for a moment there was of one, who possessed the enviable art of more sympathy in them than in the heart of combining science with sublimity, and philo. man. sophy with poetic feeling. 60 THE POETRY OF LIFE. "Nature," says Sir Humphry Davy, scenes being rendered poetically beautiful "never deceives us; the rocks, the moun- by the pencil of an able artist; yet there are tains, the streams, always speak the same lines of demarcation beyond which even language; a shower of snow may hide the genius dare not venture, and which cannot verdant woods in spring, a thunder storm be transgressed without the most glaring may render the blue limpid streams foul and violation of good taste. It is where the asturbulent; but these effects are rare and sociatlons are such as are not only vulgar in transient-in a few hours, or at least days, themselves, but totally destitute of any claim all the sources of beauty are renovated. upon the feelings or affections of the mind. And nature affords no continued trains of Nor is it in the representation of scenes the misfortunes and miseries, such as depend most gross and degraded (though such do upon the constitution of humanity, no hopes little credit to the taste of the painter); yet for ever blighted in the bud, no beings full in them the violent passions which agitate of life, beauty, and promise, taken from us our nature are frequently most powerfully in the prime of youth. Her fruits are all and strikingly exhibited. Look, for exambalmy, bright, and sweet; she affords none ple, upon a representation of the lowest stage of those blighted ones so common in the life of intoxication, and surely the pencil of the of man, and so like the fabled apples of the painter can pourtray no subject more loathDead Sea, fresh and beautiful to the sight, some and repulsive; yet even here the assobut when tasted, full of bitterness and ashes." ciations are not necessarily such as are altogether debarred from connection with refined intellectual speculations. In contemplating such a picture, we think immediately of the THE POETRY OF PAINTING. high capabilities of man, and of the dangerous profanation and abuse of his natural IN turning our attention to the poetry of powers, of the spotless infancy of the being painting, we enter upon a subject which before us, the love that watched over his forms the first connecting link between the youth, the hopes that were centered in his physical and the intellectual world. So far manhood, and that now lie grovelling beas painting is-a faithful representation of ex- neath him in his fall. This class of subjects ternal nature, it belongs to the sphere of the then is not entirely beyond the limits of the senses; but as it holds intimate connection field of poetry, though it certainly requires with some of the noblest efforts and affec- some stretch of fancy to prove them to be tions of the human mind, it is scarcely infe- within it; yet there is another class so derior to the art of poetry itself, in the value it cidedly and irrevocably excluded, that it derives from the diffusion of poetic feeling, may not be uninteresting to mark the differthrough the countless varieties of style and ence between them, and of these a single incharacter, in which it is exhibited to man- stance will be sufficient. kind. I remember seeing in an exhibition of The poetry of painting is perhaps more paintings at Manchester, a picture of a huge felt, and less understood, than that of any red brick cotton-mill, so well executed, and other subject to which we can apply our so appropriately placed, as to look very thoughts; nor is it easy to define what is the handsome in its way; and no doubt that nature of the charm by which we are fasci- way was all-sufficient to the owner, who had nated on beholding a picture in perfect ac- a train of sweet and pleasant local associacordance with our taste, especially as this tions with this picture, enjoyed snugly tc; taste varies so much in different individuals, himself, which if they were not poetical, ha(t and even in the same becomes more select most probably e weightier charm, and onle m its gratifications, in proportion as it is which he would not have exchanged for the: more cultivated and refined. lyre of Apollo. The surface of the picture l That the poetry of painting is not mainly was almost entirely covered with the brick,. dependent upon the choice of subjects is building, and by its side was the all imporclear, from the most simple and familiar tant engine-house, with tall spiral chitrasirl THE POETRY OF PAINTING. 61 pointing to the sky, but alas! with no nea- racters-portrait, landscape, and historical venward purpose. It was the picture of a painting. Of these three, portrait painting 1 manufactory, and nothing more-most pro- is decidedly the least calculated for the dis- ]bably the owner wanted nothing more. play of poetical feeling, not only because *t There was not, as there might have been, is generally practised under the arbitrary a broken foreground, denoting the rugged will of those who possess neither taste nor course of one of those polluted streams understanding in the fine arts, but because which murmur on (for what can still the there are so few subjects really worthy in voice of nature?) with the same melody as themselves, and these few are too frequentin its native woods, before the click of rat- ly beyond the reach of the artist; while the tling machinery broke in upon the harmony rubicund and wealthy citizen, having grown of man's existence. There was no pale girl, sleek upon turtle soup, after retiring with his with darkened brow and dejected form, re- rosy consort to their Belle Vue, or Prospect turning to her most unnatural labours, a liv- Cottage, in the suburbs of the town, deems ing and daily sacrifice to the triumphs of it a suitable and gratifying appropriation of national prosperity; there was not even that some portion of his hard-earned wealth, to deep and turbid stream, tlat dense and per- employ one of the first artists of the day in petually rising fountain of thick smoke, burst- making duplicates of forms, which a fulling, as if with indignation, from the gross sized canvas is scarcely wide enough to conconfines of its narrow birthplace, first dart- tain, and faces, in which the expression of ing upwards in one compact and sable pil- cent. per cent., and the distinctions of white lar, as if from the crater of a volcano, and and brown sauce, are the only visible chathen folding and unfolding its dark volume, racteristics. until, assuming a more ethereal character, While the painter is at work, sacrificing it floats away upon the gale, and ambitious all that is noble in his art to the sad necessiof a higher union, mingles at last with the ty for sordid gain, the gentleman insists upvapours that sail along the purer regions of on a blue coat and buffwaist-coat, but above the sky-no, there was nothing in this pic- all, upon a gold headed cane, which necesture but a cotton-mill; and the wealthy sarily mars the picture with a bright yellow owner, with a praiseworthy feeling of grati- spot full in the centre. This however is a tude and respect for the origin of his pros- trifle by comparison, for the buttons help to perity and distinction in the world, had done carry off the glare of the gold, and the artist his best to immortalize the object that was revenges himself by making the hand apnot only the most important, but the dearest proximate to the same colour. It is in atto him on earth. Yet notwithstanding this tempting to delineate the august person of was, in the opinion of at least one individual, the lady, that his skill and his taste are put a picture of great merit, it was unquestion- to the severest test. With consternation in ably of that class to which no single poetical his countenance, he eyes the subject before idea could by any possibility be attached. him, and in the first agony of despair, queIt is true that such a building as was here ries within himself whether he cannot really represented, need not be without its intellec- afford to lose the offered reward. He ventual associations. It might give rise to some tures to remonstrate with great delicacy on of the most profound speculations relative to some particular portions of the dress. But trade, commerce, and the wealth of nations; the lady is inexorable. It is a dress for all that I maintain is, that this picture could which she has paid the highest price, and not in any way call forth the passions or must look well. Money rules the day, and affections of our nature, or awaken those the painter, covering his palette with double emotions of the soul which constitute the portions of red and yellow, commences with very essence of poetry. his task. Upon the head of the fair sitter is In order to render the poetry of painting a pink turban, interwoven with a massive a subject more tractable in an unskilful and gold chain, surmounting a profusion of flaxen inexperienced hand, it will be necessary to ringlets, in the midst of which twinkle out i consider it l;nder its three different cha- two small blue eyes, faintly shaded by thin || 62 THE POETRY OF LIFE. eyelashes of the palest yellow, while cheeks bird found in his woodland rambles, to place that might vie with the deepest peony, and on the maternal bosom, which has so fondly a figure upon which is stretched, almost cherished him, that he believes it to have w2thout a fold, a brilliant orange dress of benevolence enough for all the wants and costly si.k, make up the rest of the picture. sufferings in the world. It is upon the same principle, and with It is possible that the same artist may be similar restrictions, that portrait painting is called in to paint the portrait of a poor gengenerally practised in the present day. tleman, who having nothing else to bequeath But let the painter rule his subject, and the to his children, is prevailed upon to leave case will be widely different. He who is them a likeness of the form they have been worthy of his art sees at once what are its accustomed to venerate. The painter finds capabilities. His imagination immediately him in a mean and humble dwelling, dressed places th]e object before him in some appro- in a manner that too plainly shows his long priate smuaiion. He assigns to it a charac- acquaintance with urgent wants and narrow ter of which it may be wholly unconscious- means. Yet in the noble outline of the face, one to which it was by nature peculiarly the fair and finely moulded forehead, when adapted, though circumstances may have for a moment its wrinkles are smoothed consigned it to a totally different destiny. down, but above all, in the symmetry of the Perhaps there is no class of pictures in mouth, and the graceful motion of the lips, which the painter's want of taste is more he reads the sad history of that gradual fall frequently displayed, than in the portraits from high station and noble fortune, which of children. We see them standing like has never through the whole of a long life wooden images, holding in one hand an been able to degrade the soul; and in paint orange never meant to be eaten, or flowers ing the portrait of this poor gentleman, he which it is evident they have not gathered; makes a picture worthy of a place amongst their hair smoothly combed, their frocks un- the aristocracy of the land. ruffled, and their blue morocco slippers un- Or he may be required to exercise his art sullied by the dust of the earth. In short in painting the likeness of one of the celethey are always dressed in their best to be brated belles of the day. It is possible that painted, and the mother is often as solicitous the arbitrary laws of fashion may have conabout the pink sash, as about the likeness. cealed the beauty of a form that is perfectly The subject is unquestionably one of great Grecian in its contour. The painter casts j difficulty, because the beauty of childhood down the stately and unnatural fabric from consisting chiefly in the light easy move- the head, and leaving a few dishevelled ment of the playful limbs, it is almost impos- ringlets to wander over the snowey temples, sible to make a child perfectly natural when binds up the rest of the hair so gracefully at rest, and not sleeping; and it is here that behind, as just to leave visible the noble pilthe skill of the able artist is exercised in lar of the neck, which proudly supports the carrying on our thoughts to what the child whole. It is also possible that the rigid will the next moment be doing. If he does rules of polished society, or early discipline, not place in its hand a bunch of flowers, he.or sad experience, may have rendered cold, throws into his picture a vivid atmosphere, constrained, or artificial in its expression, a in which we are sure that flowers are grow- countenance that was originally capable of ing; and by slightly ruffling the fair hair, exhibiting the deepest passions, and the finJetting loose the folds of the dress, quicken- est sensibilities of our nature. The artist ing the expression of the eye, and giving a whose eye is quickened to an almost superpayfulness to the almost open lips, an idea natural acuteness of perception, sees all this; of life and motion is conveyed, and we are and in painting the portrait of one who is by deluded into the belief that the very next compulsion a mere fine lady, he invests it moment the child will start off in pursuit of with the beauty and the pathos of a heroine. the butterfly, and that he will bring home Nor is it in the skillful management of with him a handful of flowers gathered from expression alone that the poetry of this art the gorgeous carpet of nature, or a wounded consists. Though this is unquestionably THE POETRY OF PAINTING. 63 the most important, there are minor points, specify in what the poetry of the art consists. which cannot be neglected without so glar- There are certain fundamental principles ing a violation of good taste that the eye is from whence our ideas of the beauty of naoffended; and as we have often had occa- ture are derived, which the slightest sketch sion to remark, no sooner are the senses is capable of illustrating, but which cannot unpleasantly affected, than the powers of be neglected without offence even to the the mind are arrested in their agreeable most indifferent beholder. Of these princiexercise, and the poetic illusion is totally ples, light and shade are the most important destroyed. In the choice of costume, it is and conspicuous. Thus two objects, one to highly essential to the poetical charm of the receive the rays of light, and another to reportrait, that every thing wearing the cha- ceive the shadow of the first, are sufficient racter of constraint or conceit should be to constitute a picture. Let one of these be avoided. All those striking peculiarities the massive stem of an old tree, grey with which belong only to a class of beings time, and shattered with the storms of ages, i whose feclings and avocations are entirely wearing round its hoary brow a wild wreath separate from the sphere of high men- of clustering ivy, and stretching forth one vertal refinement, or intellectual power, will be dant branch, still clothed with dense foliage rejected by an artist of good taste. The as in former years. Let the other be the coarse habit of the monk may be made sub- weedy banks of a silent river, in whose clear servient to the poetical interest of a portrait, depths the shadow of this ancient tree is rebecause it is associated in our minds with flected, and we have at once a scene of ideas of reflection, study, and strict mental sufficient interest and beauty to rivet the discipline; even that of a peasant is admis- eye and fascinate the imagination. Still sible, because his hardy frame may be ani- much must depend, even in a scene so simmated by the bold independence and rude pie as this, not only upon the skilful conduct energy of a mountaineer; but he who of the pencil, but upon the poetical feeling would paint a butcher or a harlequin in of the artist. Perhaps the subject may be their characteristic costume, must forfeit better understood by illustrating it with a every pretension to the poetry of his art. case in point. The local partiality of the Dutch painters It was, a few years ago, my good fortune has rendered this error strikingly conspicu- to receive instruction from a gentleman,* ous in some of their historical pieces. who, whatever may be his other pretensions, Whatever may be the merits of this school must be unanimously acknowledged to be of artists, the national prejudice which re- one of the mostpoetical artists of the present tained the familiar costume, habits, and cus- day; a fact which is sufficiently proved by toms of their own peculiar people, even the fearless and independent manner in when representing the higher scenes and which he can snatch up the most barren subcircumstances of life, proves them to have ject, and invest it with a mysterious beauty been but little qualified for the most noble of his own creating. The piece which this and interesting branch of their art. artist first gave me to copy, was a pencil Besides the choice of costume, and of far sketch of a rude entrance by a little wooden higher impotrnce, is the proper adjustment bridge, over a narrow stream, to what might of colours, and other mechanical branches be a copse-wood, or indeed a wood of any of the art of Hainting, which cannot properly kind; for the whole picture contained nobe discussed in a chapter on poetry, but thing more than three or four trees, a few which are of unspeakable importance in planks of time-worn timber, and the reedy; ~ producing that delightful combination of banks of this stream or pool. My task was } form and colour by which the eye is so en- performed with diligence, and with no little tirely gratified as to repose in perfect en- self-approbation, for my friends pronounced joyment and to leave the imagination to it to be admirable; and I saw myself that wander as it will. Entering upon tbe subject of landscape Mr. Cotman, now professor of drawing at King's painting, it becomes much less difficult to College, London.! - I-.. - -- -- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I] 64 THE POETRY OF LIFE. the foliage of the oak was edged round with imagination beyond what was perceptible to the most accurate precision, the rooks in the the eye, farther and farther, into the silent distance were eked out with the same econo- depth of the forest. my of number, and the bulrushes that stood From what I then saw of the metamorin the water were all manifestly tipped at phosis wrought upon this picture, and what the ends. While my heart bounded with I have since learned by observation and exinternal triumph, I drew forth the interesting perience, I am inclined to think that the poedeposit from the portfolio in which I had con- try of landscape painting is dependent, in a veyed it into the presence of my master, and great degree, upon the idea of atmosphere impatiently watched the expression of his being clearly conveyed to the mind. That eye as he glanced over it. After looking at scene however laboriously or delicately exit for some time with less and less of what ecuted, which, from its want of general harwas agreeable in his countenance, he at last mony, conveys no such idea to the mind, I gave utterance to a low growl of disapproba- deserves not the name of a picture; but that tion, and finally pronounced it to be bad in which draws forth the emotions of the soul ] two ways-bad as a copy, and bad as a by a correspondence with impressions made drawing. Although I was at that moment upon it by the sun, the siy, the seasons, or very much inclined to execrate the art so the hour of the day, may be highly and inoften called divine, I have since learned to tensely poetical, though simple and unprelook with feelings of interest almost like af- tending in itself. This idea must be strongly fection upon that simple drawing, to which impressed upon the memory and the imagimy master, with a few strokes from his own nation of the painter before he begins his able and accomplished pentc ge'am-'ask. As in the natural world the colour acter at once touchingr, beautifi.l, anc. poetic ind cnarctei c(' every visible object is afWhat was practically the work of this pen- fected by tne an ir. ich is invisible, so in all recil, it would be foreign to my purpose (even presentationsof external nature there must be were I able) to define. It is sufficient to say, that perfect harmony pervading the whole that through the illusion of the eye, the mind scene, which is in keeping with any particuwas forcibly presented with the ideas of lar state of the atmosphere, of which the space and atmosphere. My drawing repre- artist may wish to convey an impression tr sented nothing but an even surface, covered others; and thus, through the medium of with a minutely extended texture, woven form and colour operating upon the eye, the according to the pattern, of oak leaves, reeds, mind receives distinctly and forcibly the idea water, or whatever the uninitiated pencil of that which possesses neither form nor colmight vainly attempt to imitate. In the our in itself, and which no eye is capable of same picture, after it had received a few beholding. touches from an able hand, the most unprac- I never saw the want of atmosphere more tised eye might behold a distinct representa- striling than in a picture full of peacocks. tion of a quiet day in autumn. The rooks, It was intended to illustrate the fable of the which had been stationary and silent, were presumptuous jackdaw adorned in borrowed nowwingingtheirway towards thatwoodlaid { plumes; but the jackdaw was only to be scene, cawing at intervals with the musical found upon examination, for there were three and melancholy cadence, which at that par- peacocks nearly as large as life crowded inticular time of the year, and especially at that to a moderate sized painting, and two of particular distance, turns their harsh tones to them having their tails expanded, the canmelody. The passage of the wooden bridge vass was literally covered with feathers. had now become quite practicable, and after These feathers, it is true, were beautifully looking down into the bosom of the unruffled executed, and had the piece been called a water, you might enter upon that unfre- picture of peacock s feathers, it might have quented path, and hear the rustling of the i been admired; but there was a total absence withered grass beneath your feet; while of some of the most essential parts of a scene, high overhead were the majestic branches and the eye turned away with weariness of old and stately trees, extended by the or disgust, while the mind remained unin FX TTHE POETRY OF PAINTING. 65 formed as to the meaning of the painter, un- In speaking of the pleasure derived from impressed with a single idea. painting, I have found in necessary to make In describing this picture, my mind very frequent use of the word illusion, a word naturally reverts to one in the same exhibi- which might unquestionably be applied to tion, almost immediately opposed to it in situ- many other sources of human gratification. ation, but still more so in character. It was, if But in reference to the illusion to which we I recollect right, by one of the Nasmiths, and willingly and necessarily submit ourselves, represented a sunset upon a level beach. in order to find greater pleasure in the proThe sky was still glowing with all the gor- ductions of the pencil, it may not be illgeous tints of evening, but the sun was not timed to offer a few remarks in this place. visible, and there was neither cliff nor wave, Those who have never studied the art of nor headland to reflect his light. All was a painting, intellectually, are not aware how complete flat, gilded with his sidelong beams, much we are indebted for the pleasure we and the sea and the shore were alike unruf- receive from it, to a natural process which fled. But the artist, acquainted with the takes place in the mind of the beholder. principles of mind as well as matter, had not The painter who has no brighter materials sent forth this mere flat to brave the conse- than red and yellow clay to work with, can quent contempt of mankind. He had wise- so dispose them as to represent the splenly given to his picture a focus of interest, dour and brilliance of a summer sunset, upon without which it must have been a complete which we gaze till our eyes are almost dazblank. We have before observed, that what- zled with the refulgence of those burning ever is beautiful or sublime, does not create beams. In the centre of his piece he places intense sensations of pleasure, without some the glowing orb of day, smiling his brightest link of human fellowship, either real or im- before he sinks to rest upon his couch of aginary; so the painter of this picture had crimson clouds; on either side are trees placed in the middle distance. or rather in whose foliage is bathed in the same golden the foreground of his piece, two human be- hues, and if skilfully managed, they will ings, whose tall shadows fell behind them form a vista terminating in excess of light; on the ground. They might be fishermen while the whole is enlivened by a group of consulting about the tides, or travellers rest- panting cattle,, some of them holding down ing by the way, or poets gazing on the gold- their heads as if in the very prostration of en sky; their dress and appearance revealed patient endurance, while their tails are nothing, nor was it of consequence that they curled about in every possible variety of should. They were human, and that was posture, to show with what assiduity they enough. Imagination could supply the rest, are lashing off the myriads of insects, whose and people that glowing scene with all the busy and unceasing hum is almost loud images,'aralliar or fantastic, that wait upon enough to be heard. On first asking why the sun's decline. the little spot of yellow paint which repreIt was the perfect harmony of this picture sents the sun looks so much more brilliant which made the charm so irresistible-the in the picture than on the palette, we are illusion so complete; and whenever tlhe de- told it is the adjustment of the different light or the beauty of landscape painting is grades of light which thus increases the considered, harmony must be acknowledged brightness of the centre. But let the same to be the basis upon which both are founded. colours be placed without any regard to It is true that the external aspect of nature form in the same order on the palette, and presents perpetual contrast, both in form and we behold nothing but a heap of paint, upon colour; but this very contrast is in harmony whichowe might gaze till doomsday without with the whole: for our ideas of beauty are being dazzled. It is because we know that chiefly derived from the principles which that particular appearance of the sun, the sky i pervade the external world, and amongst the earth, the trees, and the cattle, is in reality these we may reckon it not the least irnpor- the irnvariable accompaniment of intense tant that there can be no brilliant light, with- heat, so, on perceiving the same appearance out deep shadow. in a picture, we persuade ourselves that it __ __ _ __ _ __ __ _ __ _ __ __ __ _ B F066 THE POETRY OF LIFE. is so there. If in the same scene, and with presents itself, is that of a wild and varied precisely the same colours, the artist should landscape, with distant mountains, rugged represent the violence of a gale of wind; or precipices, deep groves, green slopes, foamif instead of the cattle, but in -he same situa- ing cataracts, and wandering _-ills. Upon tion, and still with the same colours, he the verdant banks of one of these, beneath should place a leafless tree, a cottage with the shade of a "wide spreading beech," the its roof covered with snow, and a miserable, artist places, immediately in the foreground, half-starved man, vainly endeavouring to no less a personage than Apollo himself, fold a blanket round his shivering limbs, while the Muses dance before him to the there is no eye that would feel the same dif- music of his lyre, and winged loves, and ficulty, in gazing on the picture, no mind, agile graces, skip from rock to rock, or float either of man or woman, that would be able, upon the ambient air. Does the picture while contemplating such a scene, to un- please? No; because, in the first instance, dergo the process of (what is now commonly it is not true to nature,* and wherever the called) realizing the ideas of light and heat. conceit of man's imagination breaks in upon In the selection of animals, or individual the harmony and pathos which belong to objects thrown in from choice to diversify a nature alone, the poetical charm must in picture, the landscape painter finds wide some measure be destroyed; and, secondly, scqpe for the display of his poetic feeling. because in the picture of a landscape, the The introduction of fat cattle is an error into ideal of rural scenery should be distinct and which none could fall who was not either a predominant, which it is impossible it should I novice in his art, or an agriculturalist irre- be where characters so important as Apollo vocably wedded to the best system of rear- and the Muses are introduced. But let us ing live stock. And why? Because our still retain the landscape, and see whether associations with fat cattle, whatever satis- something better may not be made of it. faction they may yield in the kitchen or The artist who enters into the real spirit of larder, are decidedly too gross and vulgar poetry, will place upon the broken crags of in their nature to afford any gratification in the mountain a few shaggy goats, and pera poem or a picture. Far be it from the haps a solitary stag, a wanderer from the writer of this chapter to depreciate the value herd, will be stooping over the side of the of fat cattle, or any other agricultural pro- stream to lave its thirst in the cool waters of duce; but everything has an appropriate the forest. The foreground he will enliven place, and there is but one kind of picture in with the rich colouring of innumerable wild which fat cattle would be in theirs. I will plants, woven into a gorgeous carpet, which leave the reader to judge how far that kind here and there gives place to a sharp prois worthy of the graphic art. Let the sub- jecting rock, or yields to the wild vagaries ject be a red brick farm house, with a barn of a small silvery torrent, that sparkles up extending on one side, and a square plot of from a gray stone fountain, and after filling garden ground on the other, circular corn a rude trough, shoots forth in bubbling edstacks, and a red-tiled pigeon house in front, dies, and then loses itself amongst the thick with fields in the distance, smoothed down leaves and brushwood overhanging the little by constant culture, and intersected with narrow bed, which with the strife of ages it neatly clipped hedgerows running at right has worked out for its own repose. Beside angles all over them; then fat cattle would this fountain, a woman is standing, not an unquestionably be well placed in the fore- angel, or a goddess, but a simple peasant ground, and the picture, merely as such, woman, whose dress, coarse but gorgeous would possess the beauty of harmony in all in its colouring, corresponds with the rich its p)arts, though it might be impossible to and varied tints of the foreground. She has call it poetical. -.. Lo After condemning an extreme case, the " My notion of nature comprehemds not oaTIy the mind, by a natural effort, rushes towards its forms which nature produces, but also the nature and opposite in search of that gratification which internal fabric and organizations, as I may call it, of the human mind and imaginatione." —iir Joshua Reyit has failed to find, and the idea which now nolds, THE POETRY OF PAINTING. 67 just filled her pitcher from the pure stream, most grotesque, ludicrous, or familiar; and and is resting it for a moment on the side of then soaring away amongst the wild, the the stone trough, before she treads back her melancholy, and sometimes the sublime, yet lonely way to the herdsman's cottage, whose retaining throughout the same moral imlow thatched roof may be seen half hid by press, either dignified or abused. the sheltering trees. Here is at once a pict- I was once so circumstanced as to become Iure, which, by awakening our sympathies, intimately acquainted with the private studcalling to mind a thousand delightful recol- ies of an artist, whose talent bore so striking lections, and giving birth to the most agree- a resemblance to ballad writing, that I feel able associations, rivets our attention, de- confident had circumstances in early life dilights our fancy, and demonstrates more rected his choice to the pen instead of the iclearly than would a volume of definitions, pencil, he would have used it with equal fawhat it is that constitutes the poetry of cility, and probably with as much lasting painting; and in this manner, the most fame. The subjects which came under rmy pleasing landscapes may be composed out notice were extremely small, and seldom of materials extremely simple, and some- contained more than a little patch of mountimes even barren in themselves. tain scenery, with two or three goats or wild Perhaps no one was ever more intimately sheep; yet such was the character of these acquainted with the poetry of this branch of fairy pictures, that while the eye dwelt upon the art, than Salvator Rosa. In all his de- them, the illusion was so perfect as almost lineations of the savage dignity of nature, to beguile the fancy with the belief; that the may be found a perfect correspondence be- bleat of those wandering sheep, the scent of tween the subjects which he chose, and his the purple heather, and the hum of the wild manner of treating them. "Everything is bee, were really present to the senses. You of a piece, his rocks, trees, sky, even to his might gaze, and gaze upon those simple handling, have the same rude and wild cha- scenes until you felt the cool elasticity of the racter which animates his figures." mountain breeze, and the influence of the As the art of poetry may be classed under clear blue sky, stretching pure and high and several different heads, so that of painting distant over the wide moor; while you wanhas, to the poetical observer, many distinc- dered on, amongst the rustling furze and tions of character not laid down in the tech- yellow broom, startling the timid moor-fowl, nical phraseology of the schools. Leaving and rousing the slumbering lark to spread the more celebrated productions of the stu- again its folded wing, and soaring into upper dio, to which there might doubtless be found air, to sing another hymn of praise and corresponding specimens in the sister art, I thanksgiving to the Author of this perfect will turn to a case in point, which to my and wonderful creation, of which we feel mind is both striking and familiar. It is the ourselves in such moments to be no inconresemblance of character between B3ewick's siderable or unworthy part. What is there woodcuts, and the poems of Robert Burns. to remind us that we are unworthy? We It is true, the artist in this instance has con- feel not the stirrings of mean or sordid pasfined himself to a mode of conveying his sion. We are away from the habitations of ideas so simple and unpretending, that the man. Away from the envy and strife, the comparison hardly holds good between the tumult and contention, which mar the peace productions of the pencil and the pen. All of his hereditary and social home. Away that I maintain is the similarity of talent, of amongst the hills —away in the boundless tone >f m:nd, and moral feeling, displayed and immeasurable realm of nature, where in their separate works. We find in both it is impossible not to feel the love of a bethe same adherence to nature, without orna- nign and superintending Providence-not to ment or affectation, and we discover the behold the work of an omnipotent Creatorsame pathos in those slight touches of which not to acknowledge the dominion of a pure genius alone is capable, with the same freaks and holy God. If we are not worthy of his of fancy, lawless and unrestrained, describ- countenance and protection when we feel ing as if in very wantonness, scenes the and acknowledge all this, when we bow in fl..................................................-... —. 68 THE POETRY OF LIFE. simplicity and humble reverence before the made from various beautiful views and prosall-pervading spirit that animates and sus- pects. It is a vulgar remark, often made tains the world; when —when are the crea- upon pictures thus composed, that they are tures of his formation to lift up the prayer not true to nature, nor are they like a map, of gratitude, and return thanks for the bless- true to any given section of the earth's suring of existence? face; but they are true to that conception of But to return to our subject. After all perfect beauty with which nature animates that has been said of the importance of copy- the soul of the poet, and which it is one of ing from nature, a few remarks may be ne- his greatest pleasures to see diffused over cessary in reference to this expression, which the external world. It is not by representis capable of being very differently under- ing nature in detail, but in character, that stood. To copy nature is not merely to the highest gratification is produced; and make the sky above, and the earth beneath, he must unquestionably be the best, as well or even, entering into minutia, to make the as the most poetical painter, who conveys clouds grey, and the grass green. The by his works an idea of the general characartist may copy nature with the accuracy ter of the external world; in short, who and precision of a Chinese,* and yet never paints not only for the eye, but for the mind. paint a picture that will excite even momen- It is not the eye alone that is enlivened by tary admiration. It is quite as necessary that the brilliance of a sunny morning, nor is it he should be able to perceive with the eye, the eye alone that reposes where the sombre as to execute with the hand. He must learn shades of evening fall upon our path. There to distinguish, to separate, and to combine; must be so much of character in all reprebut above all, he must be able to form a sentations of particular times and seasons, whole, not out of the different parts presented as to convey to the mind a corresponding at one particular moment to his eye, but, as idea of the general state of the sky, the air, nature is perpetually changing, and as no the vegetable and' the animal kingdom, by two yards of the earth's surface are precisely which such seasons are invariably accomalike, he must compose a whole out of the panied. Thus the landscape painter, by various aspects of the natural and visible cultivating a familiar acquaintance with the world, which he has at different times of his minute varieties, and the distinct characterlife observed, and of which his memory re- istics of the visible world; but above all, tains a distinct impression; and this proves by studying profoundly those phenomena by again, that painting as well as poetry re- which all that we know of the mysteries of quires time and opportunity for receiving beauty, power, and sublimity are revealed, such indelible impressions, without which will be able out of such materials to com-'the works of the most talented artist would pose a whole, whose highest recommendanever exceed in merit the representations in tion it will be, that it addresses itself forcibly a school-boy's sketch book. to the imagination of the beholder, and calls Sir Joshua Reynolds remarks, in his ad- up a train of associations with feelings and mirable lectures, that Rubens makes amends ideas the most exquisite and poetical. for the local peculiarities of the Dutch school, On the poetry of historical painting, volby varying his landscape representations of umes might be written-but as much, perindividual places, confined and uninteresting haps too much, has already been said on in themselves, by the introduction of a rain- painting in general, I will merely add a few bow, a storm, or some particular accidental remarks on this particular branch of the art. effect of light; while Claude Lorrain, who It is obvious, on first turning our attention well knew that taking nature as he found it, to this subject, that the grand requisite for a seldom produced beauty, composed his pic- poetical painter, is a mind so cultivated and tures from draughts which he had previously informed, and at the same time so warmed by enthusiasm, as to enable the artist to This remark does not refer to the figures upon china, enter fully and deeply into the subject before but to the more elaborate paintings of the Chinese, him. As an instance of this we need only where a delineation of every leaf on a tree's frequently attempted. contrast the touching pathos, the wild grace, -.___ THE POETRY OF PAINTING. 69 and beauty given by Gainsborough to all lated as to offend the eye, or strike the fancy his cottage children, with some of our more with an impression foreign to the purpose of modern and ephemeral productions, where the painter, without the charm of the whole a young lady with the airs ai:d graces of a being sacrificed. With the practical parts fashionable boarding school, or where at of his profession, the painter must make least a lay figure is dressed in rags and himself acquainted, upon the same principle called a beggar girl. The little motherless that the poetlearns the grammatical use of looking children in Gainsborough's pictures language, and studies the rules of composioffer a silent appeal to our best and tender- tion; nor would a glaring breach of proest feelings, and it is evident he must have priety of style be less pardonable in one inpowerfully realized in his own mind all stance, than a gross departure from the that belongs to orphan-destitution, as well established rules of art in the other. as to the simple habits and feelings of I am induced to make these remarks berustic life. cause we are perpetually nearing of the inNext to this qualification for a poetical spiration, rather than the cultivation of painter, is a capacity for combining a whole genius; and that the merit of a painting, from particular and suitable parts, and the rather than the misfortune of the painter, art of keeping all such parts in their proper consists in his being self-taught. The only degree of relation and subordination. If for excuse that can be made for so glaring a instance a painter, in representing the death misuse of language, is that it may serve the of a father of a family, should so far forget purpose of exciting in the vulgar mind highthe dignity of his subject, as to make a fa- er notions of the influence of intellectual vourite dog advance to the centre of the power. The constant labour and concenpiece and lick his master's face, the unity of trated application which marked the lives of the whole would be destroyed; and instead the most eminent painters, prove that imof the feelings being affected by sympathy mediate inspiration had little to do with the with the grief there represented, the general work of their hands. Indeed I know not and very natural exclamation would be- what inspiration is, with regard to the fine "What can the dog be doing?" But let arts; unless it be the first moving spring of the afflicted family, next to their dying action-the desire-the thirst for excellence parent, be most conspicuous in the scene. obtained at any cost, which operates upon Let the focus (if I may use the expression) the talent and the will, prompting the one to of distress diverge amongst the domestics or seek and the other to submit to, all the laboless interested members of the household, rious, irksome, and difficult means which and then in the distance the same dog might are necessary for the attainment of excelvery properly be introduced, looking through lence. the half open door with surprise and per- The painter knows well what it has cost plexity upon the unwonted scene, and stand- him to compose one entire figure out of the ing with one foot lifted up as if doubting various parts, which intense study has taught whether it were a place and time for him to him are essential to any particular whole. venture in. The same kind of subordination He knows, but there is no need that he with respect to light and colour is of im- should tell the world, how many thousand mense importance in the formation of a sketches he has made of each individual scene. That picture which is broken up limb, by how many heart-breaking failures with a variety of spots of light and shade, the wreath of fame has been torn from his can neither be agreeable to the eye, nor con- brow, what days and nights he has spent in vey to the mind sensations of concentrated the adjustment of the cloak of a favorite or powerful interest. But as the rules for hero, how the head of his saint has been dethe regulation of light and shade, as well as signed from sketches made in Italy, the feet of form and colouring, belong more exclu- of his martyr brought from Paris, and the sively to the studio, I shall merely repeat in hand of his goddess copied from that of his reference to this subject, that none of these own lady-love at home, who had laid aside rules can m any single instance be so vio- her stitching, and doffed her thimble, after 1,, _ - 70 THE POETRY OF LIFE. many fruitless entreaties, consenting for five own shame and disappointment. But let minutes only, and with the liberty of scold- the young artist, stimulated with this burning all the time, to sit for the likeness of her ing desire-this unquenchable thirst for hand.. And this im what the vulgar call in- physical and moral excellence, submit himI spiratlon! They speak too of expression in self to the strictest discipline of the schools, a portrait, just as if it were a sort of ma- will his energy be impaired, his genius exgical atmosphere thrown around the figure. tinguished, or his enthusiasm subdued? No. and capable of converting form and colour No more than the poet in selecting suitable of any description into a likeness. They do words as the vehicle to convey his ideas to not take the trouble to observe that the eye- mankind, will lose the Promethean fire which, brows in the original are arched, and that gives life and splendour to his verse: and the painter has made them straight; they just with the same facility can the painter are ignorant that the nostrils when depressed strike off a perfect picture without adherence at one corner denote melancholy, when ele- to established rules, as the minstrel can pour vated vivacity and wit; that the artist can his harmonious thoughts in a language unimmediately produce a total change in the known to him before. character of the mouth, by a slight altera- From the stern practice of the schools, the tion in the closing line; and that it is by a artist in time emerges, though only to ex_ong course of study, experience, and unre- tend the sphere of his education, and widen mitting labour, that he makes himself inti- the field of those studies which the longest mately acquainted, not only with the natu- life of man is insufficient to complete. This ral formation of the human countenance, but brings us to the third and last stage, when also with those muscular affections which the artist, still animated with the same enaccompany certain emotions of the mind; thusiasm, launches forth into the world. that by these means he is enabled not only Having become thoroughly initiated into the to perceive, but to imitate the characteristic use of the proper means, he is now able to lines and features, and thus to produce what apply both the ardour of his soul, and the lais called expression. bour of his hand, to the production of those On dismissing the idea of inspiration from splendid works which his mind is not less the art of painting, and acknowledging the able to conceive, for having been made acnecessity of study and experience, we see that quainted with their internal construction, a poetical painter, though elevated to the their peculiar distinctions, and limitations. highest distinctions of genius, can only have Fully qualified to enter the realm of poetry, attained that eminence by a process not im- he identifies himself with the author, and reproperly called education; though it may or garding his hero in his moral and intellecmay not have been conducted in strict con- tual character, invests him with a nobility of formity with academical rules. This process mien and stature, which, if it is not true to his may be divided into three stages. First, he physical formation, is true to nature; be- feels the moving spring of action-the ardent cause his nature was noble, and the characdesire which prompts the young artist to look ter which the historian is able to describe abroad into the works of the creation, to with the intervention of time, and the change search out with penetrating and comprehen- of scene and circumstance, he must impress sive vision, the eternal principles of things, upon the canvass, as it were with one stroke, and to discover and acknowledge wherever and concentrate into the space of a single it is to be found, the imperishable essence of moment, the accumulated influence, and beauty. Thousands of human beings are power, and majesty, of a long life of glorious alive to this state of feeling, who from want actions. Animated by the spirit-stirring inof suitable advantages, from different bias, fluence of poetic feeling, he can now take in short, from necessity, are hindered from captive the fallen monarch, in chains which advancing farther in the walks of art; and his own hand flings around him; he can therefore thousands are sensible of the poet- allure the sylvan deity into bowers of his ical influence of painting, who have never own constructing; personify the impassioned touched a pencil, or only touched one to their minstrel with a harmony of colouring, like THE POETRY OF PAINTING. 71 music to the eye; and tinge an angel's wings the power of human genius, that we hear with the golden hues of heaven. most forcibly, and if we do not understand, The greatest merit of painting is, that we feel the eternal truths which have their _ike poetry, it addresses itself to those prin- archetype in nature, and their corresponding ciples of intellectual enjoyment, without impress in the soul of man. which its greatest beauties would neither be appreciated or seen-principles implanted in the human mind, and often neither felt nor acknowledged, until called forth by the works THE POETRY OF SOUND. of art. The pleasure we derive from painting, is commonly and superficially consid- AMONGST the organs of perception by ered to be only as it is an imitative art. which ideas of sensible things are conveyed Why then do not coloured figures in wax, to the mind, it is only necessary here to norank higher in the estimation of the world, tice those which are most important and obthan the more laborious and cumbrous pro- vious-the eye, and the ear. Painting forms ductions of the sculptor? And why do not the medium of connexion between the eye miniature landscapes, with the real elevation and the mind: language supplies the mind of hills, trees, and houses, made of cork or with ideas, through the medium of the ear. clay, and coloured to the hues of nature, Our attention has hitherto been occupied by please more than the level surface, on which visible objects alone, and having conducted form and distance are denoted merely by a them to the mind through one avenue, it is particular management of colour, so as to necessary that we take up the subject of represent light and shade? The fact is, that sound, in order that we may make a proin such performances, however ingeniously gressive approach by another. managed, nothing is left for the imagination. Sound is perhaps of all subjects the most We see the thing as it really is, pronounce intimately connected with poetic feeling, not it to be very pretty, and think no more about only because it comprehends within its wideit; while those in which the effect alone is ly extended sphere, the influence of music, obvious, and the means enveloped in their so powerful over the passions and affections proper obscurity, strike the beholder with of our nature; but because there is in poefeelings of wonder and admiration; while try itself, a cadence-a perceptible harmothrough the medium of the senses, he re- ny, which delights the ear while the eye receives just so much information, as is neces- mains unaffected. The ear is also more sary to set the imagination afloat upon an subject than the eye to the influence of immeasurable ocean of thought. Let hands association, just in proportion as the impresprofane colour to the very life an Apollo or sions it receives are more isolated or disa Venus, and we should see nothing more tinct. The eye perceives a great number than a fine man, and a'pretty woman; but of objects at once, or in such rapid succesin contemplating them as they are, we be- sion that they tend to destroy the identity hold the eternal principles of imperishable of each, and so long as it remains unclosed, beauty, handed down to us from distant ages, continues to behold, and to perceive, without conceived by one nation, appropriated by a moment's intermission; but the ear, besides another, and acknowledged by all with the being compelled to receive sounds, merely as profoundest admiration. they are offered to it, without, like the eye, Painting and sculpture, next to poetry, possessing the powers ofsearching, selecting, 0onstitute the grand medium by which the and investigating for itself, has its intervals sublimest ideas, and the most exquisite sen- of silence, which render the impressions that sations are conveyed to the human mind. have been made more durable, and those It is true the phenomena of nature are more which are to follow more acute. Wherever I essentially sublime, as well as beautiful; but there is any visible object, the eye, and the l nature speaks to us in a voice which we do mind through the eye, may receive pleasure, not always hear, and cannot always under- because light itself is beautiful, and the stand. It is when nature is interpreted by glancing sunbeams even on the walls of' a 72 THE POETRY OF LIFE. prison, afford to the unfortunate dwellers abodes of man, they wheel round and round within, associations which connect those in graceful circles, returning homeward with beams with the glorious orb of day, the the same speed, the same desire, and the skies, the air, and a multitude of agreeable same end in view, the language of the whole ideas which naturally present themselves; community reminding the listener of the but the ear is much less frequently gratifieda voices of wearied but contented travellers, than the eye, especially in towns where it well pleased to return from their journey; is denied the negative enjoyment of silence. while they congratulate each other upon Compare the frequency of light and sun- the peace, the comfort, and the security shine appearing even on the prison wall, which awaits them in their ancestral dwellwith the occurrence of any sweet, or sooth- ings. ing sound within those gloomy precincts. Though the language of the rook is exCompare the beautiful specimens of art, the tremely limited, and to those who know appearance of order, regularity, and magnif- little of rural scenes or rural pleasures, exI icence to be seen in the city, with the per- tremely monotonous, it is capable of varying petual tumult and din, by which the ear is that language by a cadence of expression distressed and annoyed. Compare the end- both familiar and interesting to the priviless variety of charms presented to the eye leged class of beings who draw upon the by external nature, with the frequent silence inexhaustible resources of nature for their which prevails in the country, and we shall amusement and delight. In the spring, perceive at once, that the ear is an organ when the rooks first begin to be busy with less active, and less occupied than the eye; their nests, their language, like their feeland thus we may account for its impressions ings and occupations, is cheerful, bustling, being so intense, as well as so peculiarly and tumultuous. Within the rookery it is fraught with associations the most powerful perfect discord; but heard in the distance, and affecting to the mind. it conveys to the mind innumerable pleasing Why certain sounds should be agreeable associations with that delightful season of or disagreeable to the ear may be best the year, and the universal alacrity and joy understood by examining the principles of with which the animal creation resume music; which for more reasons than one, it their preparations for a new and happy life. wou.d be unwise to introduce into the pre- But it is in the autumn, when the bustle of the sent work. The established fact that the spring and'summer has subsided, that the ear is gratified by harmony, and pained by language of the rook is most poetical. There discord, is quite sufficient for my present is then a melancholy cadence in its voice, purpose; but why, under certain circum- heard slowly and at intervals, which is in stances, we are delighted with sounds which perfect unison with the general aspect of are in themselves, and separate from associ- nature; nor is it difficult to suppose that ation, the most intolerable discord, may very this sagacious bird, perched upon the topproperly form a subject of serious consider- most bough of some venerable tree, is makation here. ing observations upon the external world, Perhaps one of the most striking, as well and sympathising in the universal tendency as most familiar instances of this kind, is to decay, exhibited in the scattered fruit, the cawing of the rook. When this bird is the faded foliage, and the withered grass. taken captive and brought into your room, Of the same description of sound is the nothing can well be more offensive to the bleating of the lamb, which in itself is as enear, more harsh, or discordant, than its tirely devoid of sweetness and melody, as voice; and yet the same voice heard in the cawing of the rook; yet the voice of the certain situations in the open air is prover- lamb has been so long and so intimately bially musical-heard as a number of these connected in idea with the season of spring, t social and sagacious inhabitants of the with green fields and sunny slopes, with woods are winging their slow and solemn scented hawthorn, yellow cowslips, rich flight, while their shadows flit over the richly meadows, and wandering rills; as well as cultivated landscape, and approaching the with plenty, and innocence, and peace; that THE POETRY OF SOUND. 73 our best poets have deemed it no violation of its little soul is unsubdued, and it warof the laws to which genius is amenable, to bles out its longest, loudest notes, even there, mingle the bleating of the lamb with the as if in defiance of the power of man, or to sweetest harmony of nature. prove that there is a power in nature, a One more instance of the same kind will power of expansion and vitality, beyohd the suffice —the croak of the raven, which ex- reach of his controlling, contracting, and ceeds the other two in the harshness and contaminating hand. dissonance with which it strikes upon the There is a scene exhibited every day ear; and yet how perfectly harmonious is throughout the summer months, in the outthe croak of the raven when it echoes skirts of London, which it is possible to conamongst the rocky heights of the mountain, template until the mind is filled with misor rising from the rugged cliffs of the shore, anthropy, and we learn to loathe and shun mingles with the hollow and tumultuous our own species. In fields sufficiently reroar of the ever restless ocean. mote from the city to admit of their being The voices of the innumerable singing the resort of birds, men are accustomed to birds, which people our gardens, fields, and station themselves with a trap and snare, in groves, filling the air with one perpetual order to obtain a supply of singing birds for melody, are well known to every listening the London markets. The trap is a large ear and feeling mind, both in their natural net, so contrived that it can be drawn up in music, and in their poetical associations. a moment; the snare is a little chirping From the sweet, plaintive notes of the robin, bird, tied fast to the end of a pliant stick, to the rich, full warble of the thrush and which rebounds with the flutter of its wings, blackbird, they are in themselves, and sepa- and thus the bird alternately rising and rate from all relative ideas, most delightful sinking has something the appearance of to the ear, under almost all imaginable cir- dancing at will upon the light and buoyant cumstances except one; and that is, when spray. The man, the monarch of creation, heard through the bars of the solitary prison all the while crouches on the ground to watch to which the wild minstrels of nature are too his prey, and when one little sufferer has by often inhumanly condemned. The two its fruitless struggles so well mimicked the most melancholy sounds in the world, are movements of a joyous flight, as to allure the song of the caged bird, and the voice of its fellow victims into the snare, the fatal the street minstrel. It makes the heart that knot is drawn, the man chooses out from the has been accustomed to the wild, joyous number the sweetest songsters, and after minstrelsy of nature, sicken to hear either. depositing them separately in an immense Suspended in his narrow cage, and excluded number of little cages, brought with him for by an outer prison from all participation in the purpose, they are conveyed to the marthe fresh and genial air, or hung without ket, purchased, and made miserable during these walls in the heat and din and suffoca- the rest of their lives, for the delectation of tion of the crowded city, perhaps the little London ears, and the benefit of society in prisoner feels a gleam of sunshine fall upon general. his plumed wing, and in an instant the fire I know not whether it was The effect of of nature is kindled in his bosom. He may my own fancy, or that such was really the know nothing of the flowery fields, let us fact, but the men whom I have seen employhope he possesses not the faculty of remem- ed in this business, looked to me uncombering what once he was; but in his bound- monly large, that is, personally large. ing breast instinct supplies the place of There was so strange a contrast between memory and imagination, and he pines for their magnitude and that of the little fragile he knows not what. Animated with the beings they were contending with upon eneigy of a wild free life, he flutters his light such unequal terms; between the frantic wings with a quick and fairy motion, almost fluttering of the decoy bird and the joyous spiritual in its grace, and oh! how touching flight of the free ones; between this system in the perpetual fruitlessness of its efforts of deception, artifice and cruelty, and the to "flee away and be at rest." Still the life open and manly performance of that Chris 74 THE POETRY OF LIFE. tian duty which teaches us to deal merci- affected it interprets the language of the fully even with the meanest of God's crea- wind, and receives its portion of joy or sorItures, that I have always considered this row from the associations which that fascene as amongst the most melancholy of miliar sound conveys. This, however, can those incident to a congregated mass of only be the case under ordinary circumhuman beings in an imperfect state of moral stances. There are situations in which the cultivation. howling of the wind so closely resembles But to return from this digression to the the low monotonous wail of inexhaustible immense number and variety of sounds sorrow, that the pleasure it is known to afford made conducive to the embellishment of to some individuals of particular taste and poetry amongst which that of the wind is feeling, can only be accounted for by supperhaps the most productive of poetical as- posing that it forcibly reminds them, by sociations. Strike out this master chord contrast, of their own uninterrupted enjoyfrom the harp of nature, and the music of ment. In the same manner, those who love the spheres would be harmony no more. to listen to the nightly tempest are wont to stir Upon the bosom of the waveless sea; in the fire and pity the sailors, and then turnthe wide desert, where the sterile sand re- ing inward to their own contracted circle of poses unruffled; or in more domestic and delight, congratulate themselves that it is familiar scenes, when the sky is concealed broken in upon by no storms, invaded by no behind a dense mass of motionless cloud, distress, and subject to no apprehensions of when the flowers no longer tremble on their impending calamity. slender stems, and even the aspen leaves Amongst the varieties of sound rendered are still, a voice is wanting to remind us of familiar to us by their frequent and natural the prevalence and potency of one mighty occurrence, the voice of the storm is the element; and we feel as if the great spirit most potent in its influence. Whether it of nature were either sleeping or dead. comes bounding and booming over the surThe least perceptible movement in the air, face of the raging sea, or roaring through the slightest sound of the passing breeze as the stately forest, it is alike grand and terit whispers through the leafy boughs of the rific-alike full of association with images forest, fills up the dreary void; an all-per- of majesty and awe: and ideas of partial or vading intelligence again lives around us, universal destruction by a mighty but unand the imaginative mind holds ideal inter- seen power. The speed with which it tracourse with invisible beings, whose home is vels seems scarcely to admit of any distincin the wilderness, and whose mystical com- tion in the feelings which it awakens, but panionship is the symbolical language in swift as the wind may be in its irresistible which nature is ever speaking to her chil- progress, it is not more so than thought, to dren. According to the temper and con- which even a sudden explosion of matter struction of that mind, the voice of the wind affords time for the combination of a number brings tidings either joyful or melancholy. of familiar ideas, by a process unknown to It may whisper in those low sweet tones the mind in which it takes place. The ragwhich are sacred to the communication of ing of the tempest, to those who have never happiness, or it may answer to the sadness heard it with feelings alive to the poetry of of the soul in long plaintive notes that re- nature, would be described as one continusemble a continued, unbroken, and universal ous and monotonous sound; but to those sigh. Itmay tell of the gardens of the East, who have, it is marked by a variety of disof the perfumes of Arabia that float upon its tinctions, which accounts for the variety of buoyant wings, of the cooling flow of spark- sensations it occasions. To begin first with i ing waterfalls, of the "delicate breathing" the hollow roar marking the interval when of summer flowers; or of the bleak moun- it seems to be retreating as if to gather tain, the howling wilderness, the deep echo strength, then the mighty gathering and the of the gloomy cave, the rustling of the with- irresistible progress with which it rushes as ered grass, and the waving of the boughs swift as lightning through immeasurable of the cypress. Precisely as the mind is space, leaving just time for the most appal THE POETRY OF SOUND. 75 ing apprehensions, as it comes louder, and drop into the hollow basin of rock, or wanlouder, and at last bursts upon us in one ders through the woodland with a warbling overwhelming tumult, mingling every ima- and mellow voice, or glides in the sheeted ginable combination of terrific sound, from water-fall down the sides of the mountain, the crash of falling matter, to the shrieks of with a soft and silvery sound, or rushes over w ld despair. And it is this combination of its pent-up channel, in all the wild tumult of imrpressions, each bringing along with it a an impetuous torrent-whether rising and train of associations, which constitutes what falling upon the distant shore, with a solemn is called the excitement of the scene-an and monotonous motion, or bellowing forth excitement either distressing or nvigorating, the mandates of the imperious ocean, it fearful or exquisitely delightful, according threatens to overwhelm and destroy, by to the peculiar temper or capability of the sweeping every atom of moving or perishamind of the listener. ble matter, into the unsearchable abyss of There are three important attributes be- its unfathomable waters; it is the same mulonging to the wind, which combine to in- sical voice that salutes our ear, whilst wanvest it with a character of intelligence. Mo- dering over the mountains, reposing in the tion, which gives the appearance of life to valley, or meditating upon the wave beaten the external world; sound, which operates shore. upon the mind through the medium of ano- As the representation of water in a landther sense, and resembles the universal scape, is said in the language of painters, to voice of creation; and (if I may be allowed give repose to the picture by harmonizing the expression) omnipresence, an attribute with the colours of the sky, so the soothing so potent in its influence upon our feelings, and melodious sound of water, harmonizing that from the searching, penetrating, and with the winds. softens down the wild cry of pervading power of the wind, we are accus- different animals, and the sharp shrill mintomed to assign to it a character which dif- strelsy of the woods, blending into one defers little from actual personality. From lightful synlphony, the universal voice of naancient times down to the present moment, ture. If anything can be added, to render the wind is spoken of as a swift and faithful this symphony more perfect-if the refinemessenger. We say-"'tell it not to the ments of art may so mingle with the symwinds," lest they should carry the report to plicity of nature, as to enhance our enjoythe utmost parts of the earth, and commu- ment of both, it is when sweet music is heard nicate the tidings to its inmost recesses; upon the water; for music is the great masC" Give thy sorrow to the winds," that they ter key which unlocks the feelings and pasmay bear it away on their elastic wings, and sions of mankind, bringing to light more disperse it too widely for any single particle hidden things than ever were called forth I to remain perceptible, through the regions or revealed by the direct language of words. of illimitable space; and the great master When plaintive, it addresses itself to sensimagician who could wield at will all the bilities that have long been dormant, or never passions of human nature, and all the influ- were awakened before, softening the flinty ences of the elements, has thus powerfully heart, and suffusing with the warm tribute represented the instrumentality of the winds of genuine tenderness, eyes that had forgotin calling forth the self-upbraidings of a ten to weep; when light and joyous, it guilty conscience: touches as with electric power, the springs of animal motion and elasticity, and in an 0, it is monstrous! monstrous instant the dark brow becomes enlivened, the Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it; old resume their youth, the weary step is The winds did sing it to me; and the thander, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd quickened, and the shadows of life are The name of Prosper!- trampled down in the light and playful dance; when wild, and free, and national in Next to the sound of wind, that of water its associations, it strikes the soul of the is perhaps the most poetical; whether it patriot, and the chains of the oppressor are falls clear, and sharp, and tinkling drop by burst asunder; while, planting himself on An_.]is 76 THE POETRY OF LIFE. his native hills, with a step as firm as the He sees again the stately woods thatboundbeetling rock, a heart as invincible as the ed his hereditary domain, and hears the storm, and a front as undaunted as the rush of the torrent that guarded and defined mountaini's brow, he defies the might of the its limits. He stands again upon his father's invading foe, and nerves himself to defend hearth, and feels himself a free-born man, his liberties or die; or when slow, and so- proud to maintain and strong to defend his I lemn, and majestic in its strains, it falls upon liberties and rights. The music ceases; a the spirit like the mantle of deep thought, shadow like the sable pall of death falls upon soothing down the idle flutter of evanescent the ideal picture, and again he stands upon joy, the fruitless stirrings of ambition, the a foreign land, an alien, desolate, and alone. selfish and sordid cares that desolate the We have all known some blessed season mind, and diffuses a holy calm, which if not of our lives, before the wheels of time had religion itself, brings with it one of religions grown heavywith an accumulation of harassbest and sweetest attributes-the sanctity of ing cares, when the morning was bright peace. upon our path, and the evening fell around The evil purposes to which music is capa- us calm and serene as the repose of our ble of being applied, might afford a fertile own souls; when the friends we loved, loved subject for the pen of the moralist; its power us, and the smiles that betrayed our happiover the human mind, is all that is attempted ness were answered by smiles that told of to be established here. Operated upon by gladness in return; when the fields and the this power, how many thousands of human woods, the mountains and the sky, were parts beings have been led on to do, and to dare, and pillars of that great temple, where we what they would never have dreamed of met to worship all that was sublime, eternal, attempting, but for the influence of this po- and holy; when the moon was the centre of tent spell-potent in its immediate effects love and beauty, and the sun of life and light; upon the feelings and affections, but, Oh! when the rivers and wandering streams were how much more potent in the recollections it a perpetual refreshment and delight, and the awakens! ocean was a flood of glory; when the dews, Music is the grand vehicle of memory, the and the flowers, and the stars of night, blend-'key which unlocks the hoarded treasure of ed their sweet influences together, and the the soul. Words may define, and place be- song of the birds, the murmuring of the wafore our mental perceptions, as in a map, all terfall, and the whispering of the gentle gales, that has been; but music, suspending the rose in a perpetual anthem of gratitude and active energies of the mind, addresses itself joy; and when music, heard as it was heard directly to the soul, in a voice that makes then, told in its sweetest tones of all that we itself be heard, amongst the tumult and ex- treasured of the past, all that we enjoyed of citement of present things-the voice of the the present, and all that we hoped of the fuirrevocable past. ture. We have gone forth since then upon We listen, as to a curious specimen of art, the pilgrimage of life, and the morning may to the national music of some distant country, have risen without brightness upon our path, about which we interest ourselves no farther and the evening may have come without rethan as it occupies a place upon the globe. pose; we may have missed the warm welWe listen, we criticise, we remark upon the come of the eyes we loved, and the smile peculiarity of the air, and then turn away; that was wont to answer to our own; we but there may be one in the crowd of audi- may have stood alone in the temple of natnrsa-a heart-stricken exile from that very ture without reverence, and without worcounvy-a wanderer without a home- ship; we may have looked up to the queen driven about from one inhospitable shore to of night without beholding her beauty, and another, and stupified with the very extrem- to the sun without blessing his light; we ity of his sufferings-he hears that well- may have wandered where the rippling flow known strain, and in an instant plunges into of the crystal stream brought no gladness, the very centre of his early attachments, and and turned away from the ocean as from a the warm comforts of his ancestral home. desert plain; to us the dews may have fallen, iI THE POETRY OF SOUND. 77 the flowers may have bloomed, and the stars tempts to produce something like music of night may have shone unheeded; and have been detected, which proves beyond a I the grateful and harmonious voice of nature doubt that there is a natural faculty or feelmay have sounded without expression, weari- ing in the human mind that pines for this some and void. But let the music of our peculiar enjoyment. As the eye is gratified early days be heard again, and the flood- with the blending of different colours, so is gates of memory are opened; creation re- the ear regaled with the harmony of differ sumes the vividness of its colouring; the ent sounds. The general aspect of the exmelody of sound is restored; and the soul, ternal world, and the wonderful construcexpanding her folded wings, soars once tion of the organ of sight, show how admiragain up to her natural element of long for- ably they are adapted to each other; yet gotten happiness. much is left to the ingenuity of man, that he We have said that the song of the caged may exercise his faculties in carrying on the bird, and that of the street minstrel, are same principle of intellectual enjoyment deboth sad; and yet how many millions pass rived from nature, and diffusing it through on their daily walk, hearing, without re- the region of art. As relates to the eye, garding either. It is because music ad- this is most effectually accomplished by dresses itself to the most exquisite sensations painting; as relates to the ear, by music. of which we are capable, that its vulgar They each constitute links of the same deprofanation is so peculiarly distressing; it is gree of relative connection between the because of its own purity, and refinement, organs of sense and the operations of the and adaptation to delicate feelings, and high mind. Painting is generally considered sentimen'ts, that we grieve over its prostitu- more intellectual than music, because it retion to low purposes; it is because it is pro- mains extant and tangible to criticism; perly the language of ecstacy or woe, that while music is more instantaneous, and we cannot bear to hear it sold for filthy pence, more evanescent in its effect upon the feelgrudgingly doled out, or still more grudging- ings; but they have both worked their way ly denied. We hear, at intervals, amidst all as an accompaniment in the progress of the dust and tumult of the city, the tinkling civilization and general refinement; they sound of distant music, with the accompani- have both occupied the lives of many able ment of a voice that might once have been men, requiring the exercise of much pasweet. We listen to a lively strain that tience, and much intellect, to bring them to should have echoed through stately halls, their present state of perfection; and they amongst marble pillars, and wreaths of flow- both afford pleasure, upon principles which ers. The voice of the minstrel is strained form an important part of our nature, and beyond its natural pitch, but no ear will lis- are inseparable from it. ten; it is modulated, but no heart is charmed. It is true there are human beings so The discord of city sounds, the rattle of strangely constituted that deficient in no wheels, and the busy tread of many feet, other faculty, they yet declare themselves carry away the sound, and the sweetness incapable of being charmed by music; but is lost. A plaintive lay comes next, but it is rather than consign them at once to the alike unavailable in moving the multitude; well-known anathema against "the man and the wretched minstrels wander on, a that has not music in his soul," I have someliving exemplification of the impotence of times fancied that these individuals were music performed without appropriate feel- influenced by prejudice, or early bias, ing, persisted in without fitting accompani- against music in some particular character; ments of time and place, and poured upon un- that they might probably each have their grateful and inattentive ears. favourite song bird, and that if they could The cultivation of music as a science, once be convinced that the music to which clearly marks the progress of national civili- they professed themselves insensible, was zation.' In almost all countries on the face only a different arrangement of the same of the earth, however simple or barbarous notes they were accustomed to listen to the state of their inhabitants, humble at- with delight from a bird, they would no 78 THE POETRY OF LIFE. longer turn away with indifference from the its tones, that we willingly adopt the fanciful music of the harp or the viol. There is conception of the poet, as the most natural one kind of music, which, above all others, and satisfactory manner of accounting for I would make the test of their capability- the existence of a being so sensitive and the music of the voices of children. If they ethereal, as to be perpetually speaking in the remain unmoved by that, the case would be language of the woods and waterfalls, yet fully proved against them, and there would never seen, even for a moment, in the depth appear no reason why sentence should not of the cool forest, listening to the melody of be immediately pronounced by declaring the winds, or stooping over the side of the them crystal fountain to catch the silvery fall of it for treason's stratagems and spoils." its liquid music. How could a being of in-,, Fit for treason's stratagems and spoils." telligence be made so faithful, but by love; There is no sound that salutes us in our or so timid, but by suffering? And from daily and familiar walk, more affecting than these two common circumstances of love and the voice of infancy in its happiest moods. sorrow, the poet has drawn materials for It reminds us, with its fairy tones of silvery that beautiful and fantastic story, of echo music, at once of what we are, and what sighing herself away, until her whole exiswe might have been; of all that we have tence became embodied in a sound —a sound lost in losing our innocence, of the flowers of such exquisite but mysterious sweetness, that still linger upon the path of life, of the wandering like a swift intelligence from hill sweetness that may yet be extracted from to hill, from cave to mountain crag, from affection and simplicity, from tenderness waterfall to woodland, that he must be desand truth; and of the cherub choir that sing titute indeed of all pretentions to poetic feelaround the eternal throne. ing, who can listen to the voice of echo withThe poetry of village sounds, when heard out connecting it in idea with the language by the evening wanderer, scarcely needs of unseen spirits. description here. The clap of the distant As in the material world every visible obgate, the bark of the faithful watch-dog, the ject has its shadow, and every sound its bleat of the folded sheep, the faintly distin- echo, so in accordance with the great harguished shout of some victorious winner in monious system of creation, no single idea the village game, the cry of the child under is presented to the mind without its immethe evening discipline, and the hum of many diate affinity and connection with others; voices, telling of the toils of the past, or of nor are we capable of any sensation, either the coming day, are all poetical when they painful or pleasurable, that does not owe come floating upon the dewy air; though half its weight and power to sympathy. each in itself is discordant, and such as we Such is the vital character of the principle should shun a nearer acquaintance with. of poetry, that touch but the simplest flower Yet such is their intimate and powerful as- which blooms in our fields or our meadows, sociation with the calm of evening's hour, and the life-giving spell widens on every the close of labor, and the refreshment of side, including in its charmed circle the dews, repose, that heard in the distance they are and the winds, light, form, and loveliness, the mellowed into music, and thus become sym- changes of the seasons, and an endless vabolical of happiness and peace. riety of associations, each having its own As if to multiply our sources of enjoyment, circle, widening also, and extending for and allure the mind onward from sensible to ever without bound or limitation. Strike spiritual things, echo seems to have assumed but a chord of music, and the sound is echoed her mysterious place in the great plan of and re-echoed, bearing the mind along with creation. As shadow inthe visible world is it, far, far away, into the regions of illimitamore productive of poetical associations than ble space; examine but one atom extracted objects which possess the qualities of sub- from the unfathomable abyss of past time, stance, light, and colour, so is echo in the apply it to the torch of poetry, and a flame region of' sound. It speaks to us in a lan- is kindled which lights up the past, the guage so faithful, yet so airy and spiritual in present, and the future, as with the golden THE POETRY OF LANGUAGE. 79 radiance of an eternal and unextinguishable Dean Swift has a treatise on the "art of fire. sinking in poetry," to which curious addiTo speak of the poetry of one particular tions might be made by striking out any apI thing, is consequently like expatiating upon propriate expression from a fine passage, the sweetness of a single note of music. It and, without materially altering the sense, is the combination and variety of these notes supplying its place with some vulgar, familthat charm the ear; just as it is the spirit of iar, or otherwise ill-chosen word. For expoetry pervading the natural world, extract- ample,ing sweetness, and diffusing beauty, with ", Come forth, sweet spirit, from thy cloudy cave." the rapidity of thought, the power of intelli- Come out, &c. gence, and the energy of truth, which consti- " But hark! through the fast flashing lightning of war, tutes the poetry of life. " What steed of the desert flies frantic afar." What steed of the desert now gallops afar. "We shall hold in the air a communion divine." We shall hold in the air conversation divine. " Around my ivy'd porch shall spring THE POETRY OF LANGUAGE. "Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew." Each fragrant flower that sups the dew. LANGUAGE, as the medium of commun-,, To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care cation, has the same relation to the ear and ", Her faded form: she bow'd to taste the wave, the mind, as painting has to the mind and "And died.: the eye. The poetry of language, like that She stoop'd to sip thewave. ZM *.J. 1 " We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, of painting, consists in producing upon the We thought as we hollowed hs nrrow bed, "l And smooth'd down his lonely pillow, organs of sense such impressions as are 1" That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his most intimately connected with refined and head, intellectual ideas; and it is to language that "And we far away on the billow." " We thought as we hollowed his little bed, we appeal for the most forcible and obvious ", And dug out his lonely pillow, proofs that all our poetic feelings owe their ",That the foe and the stranger would walle o'er his existence to association. head, &c. The great principle therefore to be kept " Be strong as the ocean that stems "A thousand wild waves on the shore." in view by the juvenile poet is the scale (or Nine hund wild waves on the shore. the tone, as the popular phrase now is) of his associations; and this is of importance " This life is all chequered with pleasures and woes." his associations; and this is of importance i life is all dappled, &c. not only as regards his subjects, but his words: for let the theme of his muse be the There can scarcely be a more beautiful highest which the human mind is capable and appropriate arrangement of words, than of conceiving, and the general style of his in the following stanza from Childe Harold. versification tender, graceful, or sublime, the occasional occurrence of an ill-cosen word The sails were fill'd, and fair the light winds blew, occasional occurrence of an ill-chosen word As glad to waft him from his native home "As glad to waft him from his native home.; may so arrest the interest of the reader, by " And fast the white rocks faded from his view, the sudden intervention of a different and "And soon were lost in circumambient foam; i "And then, it may be of his wish to roam inferior set of associations as entirely to de-,, Repented he, but in his bosom slept stroy the charm of the whole., " The silent thought, nor from his lips did come Without noticing words individually, we ", One word of wail, whilst others sate and wept, "And to the reckless gales unmanly moaning kept." are scarcely aware how much of their sense is derived from the relative ideas which cus-o heinous as toni has attached to them. Take for exam- that of entirely spoiling this verse, it is easy ple the word chariot, and supply its place in to alter it so as to bring it down to the level any poetical passage with a one-horse chaise, of ordinary composition; and thus we may or even a coach and six; and the hero who illustrate the essential difference between had been followed by the acclamations of a poetry and me'e versification. wondering people, immediately descends to The sails were tr'imm'd and fair the light winds blew, the level of a common man, even while he As glad toforce him from his native home, m a n, ~And fast the white rocks vanish'd from his view, travels more commodiously. And soon were lost amid the circling foam: 1 ~ 4 -vv->8-s Ad 49 snook o t Y, Ws....,._ a. w ASKS age *s......:j $0 THE POETRY OF LIFE. And then, perchance, of hisfond wish to roam SONG FOR TASSO. Repented he, but in his bosom slept. The weish, nor from his silent lips did come "And if I think, my thoughts come fast, One nournful word, whiist others sat and wept, "I mix the present with the past, And to the heedless breeze theirfruitless moaning kept. "And each seems uglier than the last." It ks 2mpossible not to be struck with the ODE TO NAPLES. harmony of the original words as they are 4" Naples! thou heart of men, which ever pantest placed. in this stanza. The very sound is " Naked, beneath the lidless eye of heaven!" graceful, as well as musical; like tke motion The same fault, a it applies to rragery of the winds and waves, blended with the rather than to single words, is still more fremajestic movement of a gallant ship. 1" The quently found in poetry, because the ear assails were filled" conveys no association sists the Judgment in its choice of words, with the work of man; but substitute the but imagery is left entirely to the imaginaword trimmed, and you see the busy sailors tion. The same poet, rich as he is in passaat once. The word " waft " follows in per- ges of beauty, must still supply us with feet unisdn with the whole of the preceding examples. line, and maintains the invisible agency of the " light winds;" while the word " glad" A FRAGMENT. before lt, gives an idea of their power as an " Thou art the ine whose druokenness is all "We can desire, O Love!" unseen intelligence. "Fading" is also a, happy expression, to denote the gradual ob- A VISION OF THE SEA. scurity and disappearing of the "white "'Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail rocks;" but the "circumambient foam" is "Are flickering in ribbons within the fierce gale; "From the stark night of vapours the dim rain is driven, perhaps the most poetical expression of the'And when lightning is loosed, like a deluge from whole, and such as could scarcely have pro- heaven, ceeded from a low or ordinary mind. It is S"she sees the black trunks of the water-spout spin,,, And bend as if heaven was raining in." unnecessary however to prolong this minute And bend as if heaven was rainin examination of particular words. It may be THE FUGITIVES. more amusing to the reader to see how a "In the court of the fortress poet, and that of no mean order, can unde- "Beside the pale portress, "Like a blood-hound well beaten, signedly murder his own offspring. TLike bridegrood-hound well beaten "' The bridegroom stands, eaten To LIBERTY, BY SHELLEY. By shame:" " From a single cloud the lightning flashes, THE SUNSET. " Whilst a thousand isles are illumin'd around, "For but to see her were to read the tale "Earthquake is trampling one city to ashes, " Woven by some subtlest bard, to make hard hearts "Dissolve away in wisdom-working grief; — "But keener thy gaze than the lightning's glare, Her eyelashes ere ton aoay with tears." "Her eyelashes were worn away with tears." l" And swifter thy step than the earthquake's tramp; "Thou deafenest the rage of the ocean; thy STARE 0 THE BOAT ON THE SERCHIO. "Makes blind the volcanoes;" Our boat is asleep on the Serchio's stream, The images called up before the mind, by, Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream, this personification of earthquake in the act The elm sways idly, hither and thither; of trampling, and liberty "staring, are "Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast, of "trampling," and liberty "staring," are o. "c And the oar and the sails; but'tis sleeping fast, sufficiently absurd to destroy the sublimity "I Like a beast unconscious of its tether." of the poem. A vulgar proverb tells us that " seeing is To voice*die. believing;" and it is quite necessary to see, "Music, when soft voices die, in order to believe, that the same poet who "Vibrates in the memory"Odours, when sweet violets sicken, wrote that exquisite line, "Live within the sense they quicken." A DIRGE.'" Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream." should go on to tell us in the language of "Ere the sun through heaven once more has rolled, "The rats in her heart poetry, that "Will have made their nest. " And the worms be alive in her golden hair." Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast," THE POETRY OF LANGUAGE. 81 and that the boat itself angel,- is perhaps the most in danger of falling into burlesque, and even this has great sunconcpious of its tether sublimity and power: but the subject itself -a fleshly combat in the air, is one which The same poet has addressed himself to necessarily requires such descriptions and night, in language seldom surpassed for allusions as we find it difficult to reconcile sublimity and grace; but even here he calls with our notions of ethereal or sublime. For up one image which spoils the whole. instance, when "Wrap thy form in a mantle grey, "From each hand with speed retired, " Star inwrouglt! "Where erst was thickest fight, the angelic throng, "Bind with thine hair the eyes of day, "And left largefield, unsafe within the wind " Kiss her unTtil she be wearied out. " Of such commotion." "Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand- And again, when the sword of Michael."1 Come, long sought! " "d shares all the right side of his. antagonist" LINES ON HEARING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF NA- and POLEON.. "A stream of nectareous humour issuing flowed "And livest thou still, mother earth? "Sanguine, such as celestial spirits may bleed." " Thou wert warming thy fingers old "O'er the embers covered and cold This, and the minute description of the "Of that most fiery spirit, when it fled-." process by which the wound is healed, have It is an ungracious task to busy one's fin- little connexion with our ideas of the essengers in turning over the pages of our best tial attributes of gods. Nor is there much writers, for the purpose of finding out their dignity in the allusion made by Adam to his faults, or rather detecting instances of their own situation after the fall, compared with forgetfulness; yet if any thing of this kind that of Eve. can assist the young poet in his pursuit of.... "On me the curse aslope excellence, it ought not to be withheld; ", Glanced on the ground; with labour I must earn especially as it can in no way affect the de-,' My bread." cided merits of those who have so few flaws in describing the building in their title to our admiration. t of the tower of Babel, our immortal poet "What behold I now' (says Young,) seems wholly to have forgotten the neces"A wilderness of wonders burning round; sary difference between the inhabitants of " Where larger suns inhabit higher spheres; and those o " Perhaps the villas of descending Gods. " Nor halt I here; my toil is but begun; "'Tis but the threshold of the Deity." " Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud "Among the builders; each to other calls The idea of " descending gods" requiring Not understood; till hoarse, and all in rage, " As mocked they storm; great laughter was in heaven "villas," or half-way houses to halt at, is " And looking down, to see the hubbub strange, wholly unworthy of the dignity of the author "And hear the din."of " Night Thoughts." It is into such incongruities as these, tliat It is remarkable that Milton, whose choice young poets and enthusiasts, whether young of subjects would have rendered an inferior old, are most apt to fall: young poets. poet peculiarly liable to such errors, has a because they ar t so well acquainted few, and but a very few, instances of the wi the world and with the tastes and with the world, and with the tastes and feelings of mankind in general, as to know "And now went forth the moon, what particular associations are nlost uni"Such as in highest heaven, arrayed with gold formly attached to certain words; and enEmpyreal; from before her vanished night, thusiasts, because their own thoughts are " Shot through with orient beams." too vivid, and the tide of their own feelngs Through the whole of the works of this too violent and impetuous, to admit of intermaster mind, the passage which describes ruption from a single word, or even a whole the combat between Satan and the Arch- sentence; and forgetting the fact that their 6 82 THE POETRY OF LIFE. books will be read with cool discrimination elevated sentiments, which sets all imitation rather than with enthusiasm like their own, at defiance; and might, if properly felt and they dash forth in loose and anomalous ex- fully understood, serve as a warning to those pressions, which destroy the harmony, and who aspire to be poets in the style of Byron, I weaken the force of their language. that to imitate his eccentricities wil.out the The introduction of unpoetical images power of his genius and the pathos of his I may however be pardoned on the score of soul, is as obviously at variance with good inadvertency, but it is possible for such taste, natural feeling, and common sense, as images to be introduced in a manner which to attempt to interest by aping the frolic almost insults the feelings of the reader, by of the madman, without the deep-seated the doggrel or burlesque style which obtains and burning passions that have overthrown favour with a certain class of readers, chiefly his reason. such as are incapable of appreciating what Another prevailing fault in poetry, as inis beautiful or ~sublime. One specimen of timately connected with association as the this kind will be sufficient. It occurs in a foregoing, is the introduction of words or pasvolume of American poetry. sages, in which the ideas connected with them are too numerous, or too remote from "There's music in the dash of waves " When the swift bark cleaves the foam; common feeling and common observation, "There's music heard upon her deck, for the attention to travel with the same ra"w The mariner's sorlg of home. pidity as the eye. Under such circumstan"WheAt midnight on the sea-ms smilig meet ces the mind must either pause and examine "' And there is music once a week for itself, or pass over the expression as an " In Scudder's balcony." absolute blank; in either of which cases, the 4" The moonlight music of the waves chain of interest and intelligence is broken, "In storms is heard no more, and the reader is either wearied, or unin" When the living lightning mocks the wreck formed as to the meaning of the writer. formed as to the meaning of the writer. "At midnight on the shore; "And the mariner's song of home has ceased; The same poet who has afforned us so " His course is on the sea- many instances of his own faults, will serve "And there is music when it rains " In Scudder's balcony." our purpose agan. hi ~ -., i c " the whirl and the splash What could induce the poet to spoil his "As of some hideous engine, whose brazen teeth smash otherwise pretty verses in this manner. it is "The thin winds and soft waves into thunder; the screams difficult to imagine; but as this is by no creams "And hissings crawl fast o'er the smooth ocean streams, means a solitary instance of the kind, we ", Each sound like a centipede." are led to suppose that the minds in which such incongruities originate, must be influ- Descriptions such as this, are beyond the enced by the popular notion of imitating enced by the popular notion of imitating power of the most vivid imagination to conLord Byron, in the wild vagaries which vert into an ideal scene: all is confusion, beeven his genius could scarcely render en- cause the mind no sooner forms one picture, durable. What his genius might have than other objects, differently coloured, are failed to reconcile to the taste of the public forced upon it, and consequently the whole was however sufficiently effected, by the is indefinite and obscure. proofs we find throughout his writings, of Again, in the Song of a Spiritthe agony of a distorted mind, of that worst " And as a veil in which I walk through heaven, and deepest of all maladies, which hides its," I have wrought mountains, seas, and waves, and clouds internal convulsions under the mask of hu- And lastly, ligt, whose interfesie dawns " In the dark space of interstellar air." mour, and throws around, in lurid flashes of wit and drollery, the burning ebullitions of Milton is by no means free from this fault. a frenzied brain. There is a depth of ex- Witness his frequent crowding together of perience, and bitterness of feeling, in the appellations, which even the most learned playful starts of familiar commonplace with readers must pause before they can properwhich he forcibly arrests the tide of his own ly apply, as well as passages like the followtenderness, or'turns to bur esque" his own ing, with which his works abound. THE POETRY OF LANGUAGE. 83 " There let him victor sway, scarcely be altogether uninteresting: but "As battle hath adjudged, from this new world "Retiring, by his own doom alienated; thatwhich now lies before us is one of a "And henceforth monarchy with thee divide much more grateful character. "Of all things parted by the empyreal bounds, We are told by Blair, that it is an essen" His quadrature, from thy orbicular world; "Or try thee, now more dangerous to his throne." tial part of the harmony (and consequently of the poetry) of language, that a particular But of all our poets, Young is perhaps the resemblance should be maintained between most liberal in bestowing upon his readers the object described, and the sounds emexamples of this kind. His ideas are ab- ployed in describing it; and of this we give solutely ponderous. His associations crowd practical illustrations in our common conupon us in such stupendous masses, that we versation, when we speak of the whistling are often burdened and fatigued, ini;tead of winds, the buzz and hum of insects, the of being refreshed and delighted with his hiss of serpents, the crash of falling timber, otherwise sublime, and always imaginative and many other instances, where the word style. has been plainly framed upon the sound it The poetry of language consists, there- represents. fore, not only of words which are musical, Pope also tells us, in his Poetical Essay harmonious, and agreeable in themselves, on Criticism, but of appropriate words, so arranged as that their relative ideas shall flow into the "'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence; " The sound must seem an echo to the sense. mind, without more exertion of its own,; Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, than results from a gentle and natural stim- "And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; ulus. That quality in poetry which is " But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,, The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar." most essentially conducive to this effect, is simplicity; and perhaps, from the humble And faithful to his own maxims, he thusideas we attach to the word, simplicity is too describes the felling of trees in a forest: much despised by those who are unacquainted with its real power and value. " Loud sounds the air, redoubling stroke on strokes, " On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks Yet is there nothing more obvious, upon re- "Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets brown, flection, than the simplicity of the language "Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder down." of some of our best poets. We feel that it is The words alone, gone, no more, are pecuonly from not having been the first to think,of it, that we have not used precisely the liarly adapted by their sound to the lengthsame language ourselves. It contains no- ened and melancholy cadence with which thing apparently beyond our own reach and they are generally uttered; and quick, lively, compass. The words which terminate the frolic,fun, are equally expressive of what lines seem to have fallen naturally and with- they describe. Of the same character are out design into their proper places; and the the following examples:-whirring of the metre flows in like the consequence of an partridge-booming of the bittern, &c. impulse, rather than an effort. Simplicity "Scarce in poetry, when the subject is well chosen "The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulft and skilfully managed, like order in archi- "To shake the sounding marsh." tecture, where the materials and workman- THE, HORsE DRINKING IN SUMMER. ship are good, establishesa complete whole, "lHe takes the river at redoubled draughts, which never fails to please, not only the," And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave.' scientific observer, but even those who are soR IN Suaa. least acquainted with the principles from which their gratification arises. "s The tempest growls. "Rolls its awful burden on the wind. Our business thus far has been to point... out what is not poetical in language; and " Follows the loosen'd aggravated roar, so far as it serves to establish the fact, that "Enlarging, deepening, mingling; peal on peal " Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. the poetry of language, as well as that of " Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail, feeling, arises from association, the task can i "Or prone descending rain." 84 THE POETRY OF LIFE. ON WINTER. "At last a soft and solemn breathing sound "d-up river pours alonRose like a steam -of rich distilled perfumes,'At last the rous'd-up river pours along, " And stole upon the air, that even silence "Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes" &c. And stole upon the air, that even silence 6" Tumbling throl rocks abrupt," &c. "Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might "Deny her nature, and be never more'I hear the far-offcurfew sound "Still to be so displaced." 2 " Over some wide water'd shore, "How sweetly did they float upon the wings # Swinging slow with sullen roar." " Swinging slow with sullen roar." "Of silence, through the empty vaulted night, " The reeling clouds " At every fall smoothing the raven down "Stagger with dizzy poise."-THoMsoN. Of darkness till it smiled." "Have you not made an universal shout, "Midnight shout and revelry, "That Tyber trembled underneath his banks, "Tipsy dance and jollity." "To hear the replication of your sounds, "The sun to me is dark "Made in his concave shores " —SHAKESPEARE. And silent as the moon, "When she deserts the night, But above all our poets, he who sung in "Hid in her vacant interlunar cave."-MILToN. darkness most deeply felt and studied the harmony of his versification. Shut out from The measure of the following two lines is the visible world, his very soul seemed remarkably descriptive of the tardy leavewrapped in music, and confined to that one taking of our first parents, when they passmedium of intelligence, through it he receiv- ed for the last time through the gates of ed as well as imparted, the most exquisite Paradise.'delight. Witness his own expression,delight. itness his own expressionThey hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, tg -to " Through Eden took their solitary way." "' Feed on thought that voluntary move " Harmonious numbers."I How bright and crystalline is the follow" The multitude of angels, with a shout ing description: "Loud as from numbers without number." " The harp'n"How from the sapphire fount, the crisped brook,," Had work and rested not, the solemn pipe, "Rollin on orient pearl, and sands of gold, " With mazy error, under pendent shades." "And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop, "All sounds on fret by string or golden wire, The following specimens, from different " Temper'd soft tunings," &c. Te following specimens, from different authors, are all illustrative of the harmony The contrast between the two following of numbers. passages, displays to great advantage the "fHow beautiful is night! poet's art. A dewy freshness fills the silent air; " No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain " On a sudden, open fly,." Breaks the serene of heaven: " With impetuous recoil, and jarring souna, "In full orb'd glory yonder moon divine " Th' infernal doors; and on their hinges grate "Rolls- through the dark blue depths. " Harsh thunder." "Beneath her steady ray " Heaven opened wide "The desert circle spreads, " Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound, "Like a round ocean girded with the sky. " On golden hinges turning."." How beautiful is night!"-SOUTHEY. "From peak to peak the rattling crags among, And again, — " Leaps the live thunder!" " And first one universal shriek there rush'd,'; Whe4 the merry bells ring round,.1 "Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash "And the jocund rebecks sound, "Of echoing thunder; and then all was hush'd, " To many a youth, and many a maid. " Save the wild wind, and the remorseless dash "'Dancing in the chequer'd shade." "Of billows: but at intervals there gush'd, *' Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow. " Accompanied with a convulsive splash, " Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune his praise." "A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry "Now gentle gales,."Of some strong swimmer in his agony."-BYRON "Now gentle gales, "Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense "' And dashing soft from rocks around, "Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole' Bubbling runnels join'd the sound."-COLLINS. "Those balmy spoils."' That orbed maiden with white fire laden " Tripping ebb, that stole Whom mortals call the moon, "With soft foot toward the deep," &c "Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor " By the midnight breezes strewn."-SHELLEY. "Sabrina fair, "Listen where thou art sitting "Sad, on the solitude of night, the sound, "Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave." "As in the stream he plung'd, was heard around: THE POETRY OF LANGUAGE. 85 " Then all was still,-the wave was rough no more, "The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, "The river swept as sweetly as before, "No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed." "The willows wav'd, the moonbeams shone serene, "And peace returning brooded o'er the scene." H. K. WHITE. Amongst our modern poets, there is not Gray is scarcely inferior to Milton in his one who possesses a more exquisite sense of Gray is scarcely inferior to Milton in his musical versification; indeed so much less the appropriateness of oud and imagery, important are the subjects of his muse, and than Moore. His charmed numbers flow on like the free current of a melodious consequently so much more easily woven in consequently so much more easily woven in stream, whose associations are with the sunwith soft and musical words, that as regards beams and the shadows, the leafy boughs, beams and the shadows, the leafy boughs, mere versification he stanl:s unrivalled in the the song of the forest birds, the dew upon literature of our country. the flowery bank, and all things sweet, and "Now the rich stream of music winds along, genial, and delightful, whose influence is "Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong." around us in our happiest moments, and " Woods that wave o'er Delphi's steep, whose essence is the wealth that lies hoarded "Isles, that crown th' Egean deep, in the treasury of nature. In reading the " Fields that cool Ilissus laves." poetry of Moore, our attention is never ar"Bright-eyed fancy, hov'ring o'er, "Scatters from her pictured urn rested by one particular word. His sylla" Thoughts that breathe, and ords that burn." bles are like notes of music, each composing "Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, parts of an harmonious whole; and the in"While proudly riding o'er the azure realm terest they excite, divided between the ear "In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; "Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; and the m ind, is a continued tide of gratifi"Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, cation, gently but copiously poured in upon "Th~it, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey." the soul. There is scarcely a line of his "Bright rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, that would not gratify us by its sound, even " Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colour'd wings." its s " Now the storm begins to lour, "(Itaste, the loom of hell prepare,) feet correspondence between both is what "Iron sleet of arrowy shower constitutes the soul-felt music of his lyre. " Hurtles in the darkened air." rIt would be as useless to select passages "Now my weary lips I close: Leave m learyve me to rpclose." from what is altogether harmonious as to "1 Leave me, leave me to repose." point out particular parts in a chain of Nothing can be more expressive ofweari- beauty, whose every link is perfect; but ness than the simple words which compose from an almost affectionate remembrance these two lines. We could scarcely find in of the delight with which they first struck our hearts to detain the enchantress who upon my youthful ear, I am tempted to quote utters them more than once, even were she a few examples powerfully illustrative of the capable of realizing to our grasp the imag- poetry of language. inary dominion of a world. The elegy written in a country church- "Oh! had we some bright little isle of our own,' In a blue summer ocean far off and alone." yard is altogether the most perfect specimen of poetical harmony which our language af- " Not the silvery lapse of the summer eve dew." fords; but like some other good things it "I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining, has been profaned by vulgar abuse, and "A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on; has been profaned by vulgar abuse, and,,I came when the Pin o'er that beach was declining, many who have been compelled to learn 1" The bark was still there, but the waters were gone." these verses for a task at school, retain in "There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream, after life a clear recollection of their sound, " And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; without any idea of their sense, or any per- " In the time of my childhood'twas like a sweet dream, ", To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song." ceytion of their beauty. Stil. this elegy contains many stanzas, and one in particu- What a picture of innocent enjoyment is lar, to which the ear must be insensible in- here! A picture whose vividness and beaudeed if it can listen without delight. ty are recalled in after life as light and colouring only-whose reality is gone with the ( The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, " The swallow twitt'ring from the sraw-built shed, innocence which gave it birth. it - ---— _ _ ~ _. 86 THE POETRY OF LIFE. In the poet's farewell to his harp, the last temples, rising on the very spots where imagination hertwo lines are exquisitely poetical: self would have called them up; and fountains and lakes, in alternate motion and repose, either wantonly vourting the verdure, or calmly sleeping in its embrace " If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover, -such was the variety of feature that diversified these "IwHave thrabd at our lay,'tis thy glory alone; fair gardens; and, animated as they were on this occaIwas but as the wind passing heedlessly river, I " uAnd all the wild sweetness Iwak'd was thy own sin, by the living wit and loveliness of Athens, it af"And all the wild sweetness I wak'd was thy own t,,~ forded a scene such as my own youthful fancy, rich as it was then in images of luxury and beauty, could hardly A few more passages, quoted at random have anticipated. and without comment, will sufficiently illus- "For, shut out, as I was by my creed, from a future trate what is meant by embodying in ap- life and having no hope beyond the narrow horizon of this, every minute of delight assumed a mournful prepropriate words, ideas which are purely ciousness in my eyes, and pleasure, like the flower of the poetical. cemetery, grew but more luxuriant from the neighbourhood of death." " So fiercely beautiful, in form and eye, "Every where new pleasures, new interests awaited "Like war's wild planet in a summer sky." me; and though melancholy, as usual, stood always -- " who with heart and eyes near, her shadow fell but half way over my vagrant "Could walk where liberty had been, nor see path, and left the rest more welcomely brilliant from the " The shinling foot-prints qf her Deity." contrast." "But ill-according with the pomp and grace, " Through a range of sepulchral grots underneath, the " And silent lull of that voluptuous place!" humbler denizens of the tomb are deposited,-looking "- - - " and gave out on each successive generation that visits them, with "His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave the same face and features they rore centuries ago. "Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid." Every plant and tree that is consecrated to death, Si-som the asphodel flower to the mystic plantain, lends its sweetness - -" still nearer on the breeze, or shadow to this place of tombs; and the only noise that "Come those delicious dream-like harmonies.-" disturbs its eternal calm, is the low humming sound of the " Awhile they dance before him, then divide, priests at prayer, when a new inhabitant is added to the " Breaking like rosy clouds at eventide silent city." "1Around the rich pavilion of the sun —" "The activity of the morning hour was visible every "'Tis moonlight over Oman's sea; where. Flights of doves and lapwings were fluttering "Her banks of pearl and palmy isles among the leaves, and the white heron, which had been "Bask in the night-beam beauteously, roosting all night in some date tree, now stood sunning " And her blue waters sleep in smiles." its wings on the green bank, or floated, like living silver, "To watch the moonlight on the wings over the flood. The flowers, too, both of land and water, "Of the white pelicans, that break looked freshly awakened;-and, most of all, the superb P" The azure calm of Mwris' lake." lotus, which had risen with the sun from the wave, and twhen the west was now holding up her chalice for a full draught of his light." " Opens her golden bowers of rest." "To attempt to repeat, in her own touching words,' Ou r rocks are rough, but smiling there, the simple story which she now related to me, would be " Th' acacia waves her yellovdw hairs, like endeavouring to note down some strain of unpre"Lon ely and sweet, nor nov'd the s ess, meditated music, with those fugitive graces, those felici"For flowing in a wilderness. ties of the moment, which no art can restore, as they "Our. sands are rude, but down their slope, first met the ear." "The silvery-footed antelope " The only living thing I saw was a restless swallow, "As gracefully and gaily springs, whose wings were of the hue of the grey sands over':As o'er the marble courts of kings." which he fluttered. "Why (thought I) may not the mind, like this bird, take the colour of the desert, and Nor is the prose of this delicious bard less sympathise in its austen ity, itsfreedom, and its calm." musical than his verse. The very cadence of his sentences would charm us, independ- It would scarcely be possible to exchange ent of their meaning, were it possible to lis- any one word in the writings of Moore for ten without understanding; but his choice another more fitting or appropriate, nor can of words is such, that their mere sound con- the young poet be too often reminded that veys no small portion of their sense, it is appropriateness rather than uniform elevation of diction which he has to keep in " Seldom, indeed, had Athens witnessed such a scene. view. There are certain kinds of metre to The ground that formed the original site of the garden which peculiar expressions are adaptedhad, from time to ti-me, received continual additions; and the whole extent was laid out with that perfect expressions which even if the subject were taste, which knows how to wed Nature with Art, with. the same, would be extremely out of place out eacrificing her simplicity to the alliance. Walks, lead- elsewhere; and here again Moore Is preeming through wildernesses of shade and fragrance-gladesn j opening, as if to afford a play-ground for the sunshine- inent for the skill with which he maintains. _. THE POETRY OF LANGUAGE. 87 (if we may so call it) the proportions of his Here is the story of the sufferer, told at verse, by keeping the familiar and playful once by a sudden transition from the delanguage with which he sports like a child scription of her settled grief, to that which with his rainbow-tinted bubbles, always in had been the bane of her past life-its metheir proper degree of subordination; so lancholy cause. Yet the chain of associathat they never break in upon the pathos of tion so far from being broken acquires tena sentiment, or check the flow of elevated fold interest from the transition of thought, thought. and we hasten on to learn the particular Lines on the burial of Sir John Moore af- history of this lonely being, who has experiford a beautiful instance of what may be enced the most melancholy fate of womancalled tact in the choice and application of that of being " left." words. It is not the splendour of an excited Again, towards the conclusion of the same imagination flashing upon us as we read story, when Rachel finds the dead body of these lines, which constitutes their fascina- her lover, and, as if incapable of compretion; but the entire appropriateness of the hending any further grief, takes no note of words, and the metre, to the scene described. the intelligence that her husband is dead Simple as these verses are throughout- also. simple almost as the language of a child, and therefore to be felt and understood by "nutseethewomancreeps the. maetcpctteyc "Like a lost thing, that wanders as she sleeps. the meanest capacity, they yet convey ideas ", See here her husband's body —lut she knows of silence, solemnity, and power, such as ", That other dead! and that her action shews. especially belong to the hour of night, the "Rachel! why look you at your mortal foe?,,,. he does not hear us —whither will she go." awful nature of death, and the indignant spirit of the unconquered warrior. Here we have three distinct ideas, not Beyond the mere appropriateness of necessarily connected with each other, prewords, poetical language affords a deeper sented to us in quick succession, without any interest, in those rapid combinations of interruption to the interest excited by each inthought and feeling which a few words may dividually. First, we see the dead body of convey, by introducing in descriptions of the husband, and then "that other dead," present things allusions to those which are with the total abstraction of the mourner, remote, and which from being easily and who in her silent grief sees only one, and naturally presented to the mind of the rea- this proves the strength of her affection, der, glide in like the shadow of a passing which life might have subdued, but which cloud upon the landscape, without obscuring death reveals in all its overwhelming power; our view, or interrupting our contemplation then follows the simple query, " whither will of the scene. she go?" presenting us at once with a view Crabbe, who is by no means remarkable of her future life, and its utter desolation. for the harmony of his numbers, abounds in Moore has many passages of the same passages of this kind; and it is to them that description:we are mainly indebted for the interest, as well as the power of his poetry. The first in- "Here too he traces the kind visitings..Of woman's love, in those fair, living things stance which occurs to me is in the intro- "Of land and wave, whose fate, —in bondage thrown duction to the sad story of the smugglers, For their weak loveliness-is like her own!" and poachers-a story almost unrivalled for the natural and touching pathos with which The reader may, without any flaw in the it is described. chain of association, pause here to give one sigh to the fate of woman, and then gc cn " One day is like the past, the year's sweet prime with the poet while he proceeds to describe "Like the sad fall,-for Rachel heeds not time; other fair things, amongst which the stran".Nothing remains to agitate her breast, "Spent is the tempest, and the sky at rest; ger was wandering. "But while it raged her peace its ruin met, There is somewhere in the writings of "And now the sun is on her prospects set; Wordsworth a highly poetical pasage, "Leave her, and let us her distress explore, ",She heeds it not-she has been left before." equally illustrative of the subject in questi4. 1 - -.. _...~ Se.. -_-...... 7~1~. l 88 THE POETRY OF LIFE. It is where he describes a mourner whose its own; hence the strong disposition shown grief has all the bitterness of self-condem- by children to revenge themselves upon nation:- whatever has given them pain, and to battle, however vainly, with all that obstructs the "It was the season sweet of budding leaves, "Of days advancing towards their utmost length, gratification oftheir wishes; and hence those "And small birds singing to their happy mates. bursts of figurative language with which "Wild is the music of the autumnal wind semi-barbarous people are accustomed to "Amongst the faded woods; but these blythe notes "Strike the deserted to the heart; —Ispeak express what they deeply feel. As if to ac" Of what Iknow, and what wefeel within." commodate themselves to the natural tastes and feelings of mankind, originating in the sWhen he leaves the subject which he has principles of our nature, all good poets have so beautifully described, to attest by his own made frequent use of this style, and always, experience, and by his knowledge of hum when it is well managed, with great efect. when it is well managed, with great effect. nature, the truth of what he has aHow beautiful is the following passage from our thoughts are not diverted from the ori- Barry Cornwall ws ginal theme, but our feelings are riveted wind murmuring through the pine trees on more closely to it by the force of this attesta- mount Pelion:tion, which meets with an immediate response from every human bosom. ", And Pelion shook his piny locks, and talked In Gray's description of Milton, where he Mourfillly to the fields of Thessaly." says:- Shakespeare abounds in examples of this " The living throne, the sapphire blaze, kind, in no one instance more touching or "Where angels tremble while they gaze, powerful than in the lament of Constance, "He saw, but, blasted with excess of light, after the French king tells her she is as fond " Clos'd his eyes in endless night." of grief as of her child:The transition is immediate from what the The transition is immediate from what the 1" Grief fills the room tup of my absent child, poet saw, to what he suffered; yet the asso- "Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; ciations are highly poetical, and so clear as ", Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, in no way to interfere with each other. " Remembers me of all his gracious parts,." Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; It is related of the Emperor Nero, when a" Then have I reason to be fond of grief." in the last mental agonies of his wretched life, he sought from others the death he shud- The following example from Cowper is dered to inflict upon himself, that finding remarkable for its elegance and beauty. Alnone who heeded his appeal, he pathetically luding to the lemon and the orange treesexclaimed, "What! have I neither a friend nor an enemy "Althoughnomancoud The golden boast of Portugal and Western India," nor an enemy?" Although no man could possibly be thinking less of poetry than the he says, they fallen monarch at that moment, yet such is the language which an able poet would s "Peep through the polished foliage at the storm, ", And seem to smile at what they need not fear." have used, to express the three separate ideas of the helplessness of Nero's situation, The next figure of speech noticed by his pitiful appeal to the kindness of his peo- Blair is metaphor, of immense importance ple, and his internal consciousness that if he to the poet, because, if for one moment had not a friend, he had at least done enough he loses the chain of association, an image to deserve the stroke of an enemy in his last wholly out of place is introduced, the charm hour. of his metaphor is destroyed, and his verse Personification is another figure of speech becomes contemptible. From Lord Bolingby which poetica. associations are powerful- broke, whose writings abound in beauties of ly conveyed. It seems to be peculiarly in this kind, Blair has selected one example of accordance with the infant mind-infant perfect metaphor. The writer is describing either in experience or in civilization, to iden- the behaviour of Charles the First to his tify every thing possessed of substance, mo- parliament. "In a word," says he, "about tion, orm, or power, with an intelligence of a month after their meeting, he dissolved I tin brm or powthntlieneo THE POETRY OF LANGUAGE. 89 them; and, as soonas hehad dissolvedthem, ries of the Irish Peasantry, that we are he repented; but he repenter too late of his chiefly indebted for our knowledge of what rashness. Well might he repent, for the is peculiarly national and characteristic in vessel was now full, and this last drop made his native language. He gives us a spirited the waters of bitterness overflow." and amusing chapter upon Irish swearing, The works of Ossian abound with beauti- by no means confined to those malevolent ful and correct metaphors; such as that on wishes which it would be a painful task to a hero: "In peace, thou art the gate of transcribe, but which, as they issue from the spring; in war, the mountain storm." Or impassioned lips of the Irishman, have somethis on woman: " She was covered with the thing of that sentimental nature (though far light of beauty; but her heart was the house deeper in its character) triumphantly disof pride." played by Acres before his friend. "May Young, in speaking of old age, says, the grass grow before your door," conveys a striking picture of desolation and ruin.,, It should "Walk thoughtful on the silent solemn shore "May you melt off the earth like the snow' Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon." off the ditch," is another figure of the same description. In the following lines Prior gives us an Ifpositive good had the power to neutraexample of allegory, which may be regard- lize evil, we might comfort ourselves in readed as continued metaphor. ing such expressions as these, with what the "Did I but purpose to embark with thee author goes on to tell us, that the Irish have "On the smooth surface of a summer's sea, a superstitious dread of the curse of the pilWhile gentle zephyrs blow with prosperous gales, grim, mendicant or idiot and of the widow " And fortune's favour fills the swelling sails, "But would forsake the ship, and make the shore, and the orphan. And so high is his idea of " When the winds whistle and the tempests roar ~" the duty he owes to these, that his heart is ever open to their complaint, and his hand Beyond these figures of speech, there yet ever open to their complaint, and his hand remain hyperbole, apostrophe, comparison, ready to assist them. Thus it is not uncomand a variety of others, which the young mon for them to say of a man whose affairs and a variety of others, which the young poet would do well to study, and which are do not prosper, " He has had some poor scientifically described in books expressly body's curse;" and a woman who unexpectdevoted to the purpose; I shall therefore edly receives a guest, welcome in no way pass on to the colloquial language of the except that she was a stranger and a wandIrish-the simple, unsophisticated, genuine, ing), The blessing o7 goodness upon you, Irish, which has always appeared to me par- ng, "The blessing o goodness upon you, dacent woman." ticularly imaginative, powerful and pathetic; but unfortunately for the writer, it is only The frequent recurrence of the word heart heard in moments of excitement, of which the in its unlimited capacity, gives a warmth and feelings alone keep a record, and this record fervency to their expressions of tenderness being one of impressions rather than words, or sorrow. " The beloved far boy of my it is difficult to recall the precise expressions which, striking the chords of sympathy, pro- dead from me! Heavy and black was his heart." "The world's goodness is in duce a momentary echo to the music of the soul. -your heart." "Light of my eyes, and of my soul..~... heart;" but above all, " Cushla machreeMrs C. Hall, in an Irish story, illustrative he "bu o eal, ms mree of the strong and metaphorical language ofts v that deep-toned affection which the heart the Irish peasantry, makes this observation proceed from the mouth of a poor man, who alone can understand. had listened to the recital of the misfortunes What can exceed the following words for refined yet genuine and fervent sympathy, of one who was brave, just and virtuous. such as those who have been intimately ac"The gardener pierces the vine even to bleeding, and quainted with suffering alone can feel; and suffers the bramble to grow its own way." hence it is that the Irish derive their pathos, But it is to the author of Traits and Sto- for what strain of human misery can be 90 THE POETRY OF LIFE. touched, to which their own experience has said he, "the poor creature is sadly afflicted not an echo? with innocence!" And another peculiarity " Hunger and sickness and sorrow may in the phraseology of the Irish, is their fondcome upon you when you'll be far from your ness for using what Mr. Burke would term own, and firom them that love you." Or, "sublime adjectives," instead of the common "He's far from his own the crather-the English adverbs-very, extremely, &c. pretty young boy." Thus an Irishman will say, " Its a cruel cold "Mavourneen dheelish-my sweet dar- morning;" or "There's a power of ivy lhng," is expressive of great tenderness. growing on the old church." "My father, the heavens be his bed!" There is a peculiarity of constitution Doth when uttered with fervency has both solem- mental and bodily, observable in the Irish nity and pathos. people, for which it is difficult to account. In their good wishes the Irish are most One of their most amiable characteristics is ingenious. "May every hair of your hon- the absence of satire, perhaps it would be our's head become a mould candle to light more correct to say contemptuous satire; you into glory." "May you live a hundred for the Irish are quick to see the ridiculous, years and a day longer," which last words but they can see without despising it. Unseem to be added from a sudden impulse, to acquainted with that qualifying medium bethrow another weight into the scale, or to tween what amuses them, and what excites heap another blessing into the measure al- their passions-that medium which an Engready overflowing. lishman fills up with every variety and degree There is also a great deal of imagination of contempt, they pass immediately from in the manner in which they account for laughter to indignation; and thus amongst what they do not, or will not understand ra- the least civilized classes of the Irish, the tionally: always referring directly to the social meeting too often terminates in the principles of good or evil. Thus a hard and deadly fray. Madame de Stael in speaking unjust steward who wore his ears stuffed of the Italians, makes the same observation with wool, was said to have adopted this with regard to the absence of contemptuous custom that he might not hear the cries of satire from their national character; and it the widow and the orphan. is to this amiable trait, in connection with In reply to instructions that were to prove great natural enthusiasm, that we may reahis constancy, a peasant exclaims, " Manim sonably attribute the poetical constitution of asthee hir, my soul is within you." A mother both people. It is impossible to imagine that thus regrets her son's approaching mar- those combined ebullitions of music and riage, "You're going to break the ring about verse, for which Italy has been celebrated, your father's hearth and mine." A broken- and which have unquestionably given a pohearted mother exclaims, " My soul to glory, etical tone to the character of her people;- but my child's murthered!" that those bursts of impassioned feeling findIn a note by Crofton Croker, in his Fairy ing at the satne time a language and a Legends, he remarks, "The Irish, like the voice, should ever have flourished under tne Tuscans, as observed by Mr. Rose in his in- auspices of John Bull; or that he should teresting Letters from the North of Italy, are have sat by, aud witnessed with delight extremely picturesque in their language. those exhibitions of irrelevant tropes, and Thus they constantly use the word dark as metaphors, and splendid perorations, and synonymous with blind; and a blind beggar flashes of wit, and peals of passionate elowill implore you to' Look down with pity on quence, for which Irish oratory has been a poor dark man."' distinguished. No; there is nothing more It may be observed here that the Irish, destructive to enthusiasm and poetry, indeed like the Scotch, by a very beautiful and to genius in its most unlimited sense, than tender euphemism, call idiots, innocents. A contempt. It is true, the calm judgment of lady of rank in Ireland, the lady Bountiful the censor is often necessary to restrain the of her neighbourhood, was one day asking a exuberance of undisciplined fancy, but he man about a poor orphan: "Ah! my lady," who prides himself upon being able to put THE POETRY OF LANGUAGE. 91 down with a sneer, whatever is unnecessary And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly: yea, he did fly in feeling, and extraneous in taste and im- upon the wings of the wind.-Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away and be at rest.-Hide agination, ought to feel bound to supply, me under the shadow of thy wings.-If I take the wings with something equally conducive to happi- of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the lness the void which this practice must ne- sea.-Riches make themselves wings.-Wo to the land ness, the void which this practice must ne- shadowing with wings!-The wind hath bound her up cessarily occasion in the highest range of in her 2wings.-The sun of righteousness shall arise with intellectual gratification. healing n his wings. If other evidence were necessary, beyond The word wing is here used not only as what is afforded by the nature of the human the instrument of conveying aloft, or away; mind, to prove that poetry may not only be but as the means of sheltering and protectmingled with, but highly enhance all that in we enjoy and admire we have this evidence g; from the two different associations which we have with the flight of a bird, and in the Bible, abounding as it does in every the brooding of its young. variety of poetical language which it has entered into the mind of man to conceive. FOOT. A slight examination of th>e different mean- He will keep thefeet of his saints, and the wicked shall ings attached to words of common and fa- he silent in darkness.-He maketh my feet like hinds' miliar signification, will sufficiently illustrate feet.-He that is ready to slip with his feet, is as a lamp the high tone of i gintie interest flowing despised in the thought of him that is at ease.-I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame.-He shall through the whole. subdue the people under us, and the nations under our The words I have selected are, hand, wing, feet.-Suffer not our feet to be moved.-My feet were foot, head, mind, heart, and soul, of which almost gone. —Lift up thyfeet unto the perpetual desolafoot, head, mind, heart, and soul, of which tions.-Herfeet go down to death.-Howbeautiful upon hand is perhaps the most unlimited in its the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings.-Thou hast put all things in subjection under his application. feet.-No man lifted up his foot in all the land.-The flood breaketh out from the inhabitant; even the waters forgotten of the foot; they are dried up, they are gone His hand will be against every man, and every man's away from men. hand against him.-And the children of Israel went out with an high hand.-The day of their calamity is at hand. WVe see by these passages thatfoot is used -The Lord made all that he did to prosper in his hand. a very unlimited sense as a foundation The hand of the Lord is sore upon us.-For he put his life in his hand, and slew the Philistine.-As soon as the and a stay, as well as a means of establishkingdom was confirmed in his hand.-I will set his hand ing, confirming, moving, overcoming, and also in the sea, and his right hand in the rivers.-In the detrin shadow of his hand hath he hid me.-Woould we had died by the hand of the Lord.-The hand of the Lord is gone out against me.-The hand of the Lord was strong upon me.-If thou wilt take the left hand, then I will go to the -Yet within three days shall Pharaoh lift up thine head, right; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go and shall restore thee unto thy place.-Thou hast kept to the left.-Let not thy left hand know what thy right me to be the head of the heathen.-Thy blood shall be hand doeth.-I will remember the years of the right hand upon thine own head.-Though his excellency mount up of the Most High.-A wise man hears at his right hand. into the heavens, and his head reach the clouds.-Mine -Let my right hand forget her cunning.-Is there not a iniquities are gone over mine head.-Blessings are upon lie in my right hand.-If thy right hand offend thee, cut the head of the just.-Thou shalt heap coals of fire upon it off.-They gave to me and Barnabas the right hand of his head.-Mine head is filled with dew.-Thou hast fellowship. built thy high places at every head of the way.-Thy dream and the visions of thy head upon thy bed.-For Here we find the word hand is not only this cause ought the woman to have power on her head, used for the instrument of performing, main- because of the angels. taining, and possessing, but that it supplies We find head used here as it is in our orthe place of power, in all its different modi-dinary language, not only as the chief porfications of will, action, and suffering. tion of any whole, and the centre from whence WIN~G. our ideas flow; but as a figure it is most freAs one gathereth eggs that are left, have I gathered all quently made to stand for the highest part As one gathereth eggs that are left, have I gathered all the earth; and there was none that moved the wing.- of man's nature-that which is most capable Ye have seen what I have done unto the Egyptians, and of being exalted or depressed-most calcuhow I bore you on eagles' wings, and brought you unto lated for receivig honour, as well as sufermyself.-A full reward be given thee of the Lord G(od of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust. ing degradation. 92 THE POETRY OF LIFE. MIND. ye were dear unto us.-In patience possess ye your souls. And they put him in ward, that the mind of the Lord -He that winneth souls is wise.-Thou fool, this night.niht he shown them.-Bring it again to mind, o ye shall thy soul be required of thee.-Take heed to thyself, and keep thy soul diligently, lest thou forget the things transgressors.-Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace which thine eyes have seen.-Why art thour cast down, whose mind is stayed on thee.-Sitting clothed, and in his right mind.-The carnal mind is enmity against God. 0 my soul and why art thou disquieted within me?As the hart panteth after the water brocs, co panteth I -Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind. — Even their mind and conscience is defiled.-Be all of one my soul after thee, 0 God -My soul shall he joyful in nind.-It was in my omind to build an house.-To do the Lord.-Save me, O God, for the waters are come in mind. —It was in my iznd' to build an house.-To do good or ad of mine own ind.-I know the forward- unto my soul.-Unless the Lord had been my help, my good or bad of mine own find. —I know the forward-Gird up the loins of your mind.- soul had almost dwelt in silence.-My soul fainteth for ness of your mirnd. —Gird up the loins of your mind. — Comfort the feeble-minded-.-A double minded man is un- thy salvation.-My soul is even as a weaned childl.-I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul. s-The Lord is my portion, saith my soul.-My soul doth Here we see that in the language of scrip- magnify the Lord. ture, precisely the same license is used as in We now find that every attribute both of that of our poets. The word mind repre- the mind and the heart are comprehended sents an ideal centre from whence volitions inthe meaning of the word soul. Notonly flow, and relates almost exclusively to the is the soul capable of willing, acting, and understanding, the memory, and will. suffering, but also of loving; and when we HEART. pursue the idea of love through all its gradations down to simple preference, we shall And God saw that every imagination of the thoughts have ple preference, we shall of man's heart was only evil continually.-And Jacob's traversed a region comprising every heart fainted, for he believed them not.-Pharaoh's heart impulse by which our nature is capable of was hardened.-Lay up these my words in your heart.- being influenced. But in addition to the My brethren that went up with me made the heart of the people melt.-For the divisions of Reuben there were most extensive signification of mind and great searchings of heart.-And it was so, that when he heart, soul obtains a character more dignihad turned his back to go from Samuel, God gave him fled and profound, from being associated another heart.-David's heart smote him.-His heart died within him -And God gave Solomon wisdom and un- with the principle of life-with man's moral derstanding exceeding much, and largeness of heart, responsibility-and with eternity. even as the sand that is on the sea shore.-His wives In examining these few words we are turned away his heart.-I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy.-A broken and contrite heart, 0 God, thou struck with the idea, of how -much they wilt not despise.-By sorrow of heart is the spirit broken. would lose in beauty and interest by being -I am pained at my very heart.-I weep for thee with to their literal and absolute signifibitterness of heart.-Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts. —Where your treasure is, there will your heart cation; and just in the same proportion be also.-Did not our heart burn within us, while he would our intellectual attainments and purtalked by the way.-Love the Lord thy God with allthy suits be robbed of their ornament and charm heart. sit be robbed of their ornament and charm, by being separated from the poetry of life. The difference between heart and tnind is here apparent. Heart comprehends the understanding and the affections, but has nothing to ao with either memory or will, ex- THE POETRY OF LOVE. cept as the affections may be considered as the moving cause of impressions upon the ON entering upon the poetry of the human memory, and operations upon the will; while mind, the passions naturally present themmind confined to the sphere of the intellects selves as a proper subject of interesting dishas nothing to do with the affections. cussion; because as poetry belongs not so SOUL. much to the sphere of intellect, as to that of feeling, we must look to the passions, as to And man became a lving soul. —Set your soul to seekintensity to the Lord.-The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the living principle, which gives intensity to the soul. —Ie satisfieth the longing soul, and filletk the perception, and vividness to thought. All hungry soul with goodness.-Fear not them which kill mankind who are gifted with common sense the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in are capable of writing verses, but all cannot hell.-He hath poured out his soul unto death.-My soul feel, and still less can all write poetically. In is weary of my life.-Unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my order to do this it is necessary to feel deepsoul.-We were willing to have imparted unto you, not the gospel of God only, but also our own souls, because ly. By the exercise of intellectual power THE POETRY OF LOVE. 93 we may learn what are the component parts and blushes, as well as of that which never of a flower, but this alone will never make us told its tale; of the love which Milton thought sensible of its beauty. The same power may worthy of being described in its purest, hocollect and disseminate the truths most impor- liest character; and of the love which lives tant to the well being of society, but it cannot and glows in the pages of every poet from enforce their reception. In short, though it Milton down to Byron, Burns, and Moore. may instruct, improve, invigorate, and sup- That all who have touched the poet's maply the mind with a perpetual fund of infor- gic pen, have at one time or other of their mation, intellectual power alone can never lives made love their theme, and that they make a poet, nor excite that love of poetry- have bestowed upon this theme their highest that ardent desire in the soul for what it powers, is proof sufficient to establish the feeds on, which gives to the poetic mind a fact that love is of all the passions the most refinement, an energy, and a sense of hap- poetical; a fact in no way contradicted or piness unknown to that which subsists mere- affected by the vulgar profanation to which ly upon knowledge. Hence we may fairly this theme more than any other has been conclude, that the man who is wholly dispas- subjected. All human beings are not capasionate himself, and who has neither ob- ble of ambition, of envy, of hate, or indeed served, nor studied the nature of passion in of any other passion; but all are capable of others, can never be a poet; any more than love, in a greater or less degree, and accordthe artist who has never felt the exhilaration ing to certain modifications; it follows thereof joy, nor witnessed its effects, can repre- fore as a necessary consequence, that love sent in painting or marble a personification should form a favourite and familiar theme, of delight. with multitudes who know nothing of its To examine the passions individually refinements, and high capabilities. would be a work of time and patience, or The universal tendency of love to exalt rather of impatience. We will therefore its object, is a fact which at once gives it dismiss those which are malevolent or inju- importance, dignity, and refinement. Imrious to the peace of society; for though portance because of its prevalence amongst rage, envy, malice, jealousy, and above all mankind; dignity, because whatever raises the master passion of revenge, may supply the tone of moral feeling, and disposes tothe poet with images of majesty, and hor- wards kindly thoughts of our fellow-crearor, which give to the productions of his tures, must be conducive to the good of socigenius a character of depth and power; yet ety; and refinement because it enters into as those to which we are about to turn our the secrets of social intercourse, and delights attention are so much more congenial to the in nothing so much as communicating the peaceful spirit of the muse, we will devote happiness it derives from all that is most our time solely to the consideration of the admirable in art and nature. If that is a poetry of love, and grief. contemptible or insignificant passion under First then we begin with love; a subject whose influence more has been dared, and hourly trampled in the dust, and yet hourly done, and suffered, than under any other; rising from its degredation with fresh life, then is the human mind itself contemptible, and fresh vigour, to claim, in spite of the and the name of insignificance may very perpetual profanation of vulgar familiarity, properly be applied to all those impulses of the best and warmest tribute of the poet's human nature which have given rise to the lay. By love I do not mean that moderate revolutions of past ages, and the most conbut high-toned attachment which may be spicuous events which mark the history of classed under the general head of affection the world. -of this hereafter. For the present I am It seems to me that love originates in a daring enough to speak in plain prose, and mixture of admiration and pity. Without even in this enlightened day, of the love of some feeling of admiration, no sentient beMay-day queens, and village swains; of the ing could first begin to love; and without love of Damon and Delias; of the love some touch of pity, love would be deficient which speaks in the common-place of sighs in its character of tenderness, and that irre 9. TEIE POETRY OF LIFE. sistible desire to serve the object, which im- If admiration did not form a competent pels to the most extraordinary acts of disin- part of our love, we should not feel so ardent terestedness and devotion. I grant that a desire as is generally evinced, to obtain after love has once taken possession of the for the object beloved, the admiration of heart, it becomes a sort of instinct, and can others. We long for others to behold them then maintain an existence too miserable, with our eyes, that they mAy participate in and degraded, for a name, long after admi- our feelings and do what we consider jusration and even pity have become extinct. tice to the idols of our imagination; and But in the first instance there must be some though this can seldom be the case to the quality we admire to attract our attention extent of our wishes, we know that to listen and win our favour, and there must be some to the well-merited praises of those we love, deficiency in the happiness of this object, is (at least to women) the most intense enwhich we think we can supply, or we should joyment this world can afford. To purchase never dream of attaching ourselves to it. It this gratification what anxiety we endure, may be asked since love sometimes fixes it- what study we bestow, what ardent desire self upon an inferior object, degraded below we experience, that they may commit no the possession of dignity or virtue, where errors cognizable to the world's eye; but then can be the admiration? I answer, that steering an open, honourable, upright course, in such cases the mind that loves must be may defy the scrutiny of envious eyes, and degraded too, and consequently it is subject claim as their due from society at large, that to call evil good, and may thus discover tribute of admiration which we are ever qualities admirable to its perverted vision, ready to bestow. But the unspeakable anwhich a more discriminating eye would turn guish with which we behold any departure from with disgust. Again, it is still more from this honourable course of conduct, is reasonable to ask when love is fixed upon perhaps the strongest proof, how intimately an object apparently the centre of hap- our sense of all that is admirable in the hupiness, to which prosperity in every shape man character is interwoven with our affecis ministering, where then can be the pity? tions. I do not pretend to say, that we are We all know that the appearance of happi- all so influenced by right feeling, or so well ness is deceitful, and we all suspect that assured of the precise line of demarcation even under the most flattering aspect, there between good and evil, as to lament over is a mingled yarn in the web of life, which the errors of those we love, exactly in prorenders the experience of others, like our portion to their moral culpability. Far from own, a mixture of joy and sorrow; but if a it. But let that which all hearts can feelbeing can be found in whose happiness is no let the stigma of the world's disgrace fall broken link, no chord unstrung, who has no upon them-let it at the same time be volfalse friend, no flattering enemy, no threat- untarily incurred, and richly merited, and ye ening of infirmity, no flaw in worldly comfort who tell us of the loss of friends or fortune, of and security; I would answer the question poverty, or sickness or death, match the by asking, is human happiness of so firm agony of this conviction if you can. No; it and durable a nature that once established, has neither companion nor similitude. In it remains unshaken? No; the summit of the wide range of human calamity there earthly felicity is one of such perilous attain- is not one that bears any proportion to this. ment, that the nearer we see any one ap- It may be said of pity also, that there are proaching it,lthe more we long to protect cases in which we are scarcely aware of its them from the danger to come-to stretch forming any part of our love; but is not our out our arms, and if we cannot prevent. at love at such times languid, spiritless, and least to break their fall. We feel towards inert? No sooner does sickness or misforsuch an one, that the day will come when tune assail the object of our regard, than it they may want a real friend, a firm support, assumes a new life, and all that was dear a true comforter, and we hasten the bond before, becomes doubly valuable beneath the that unites our fate with theirs, that we may pressure of affliction, or on the brink of the be ready in the days of "trial and wo." grave. How often has pity brought to light THE POETRY OF LONE. 95 a love whose existence we were unconscious of humanity, has mixed in the common avoof before; and those whom we should once cations of life, and become have deemed it impossible to regard with "An eatin, drinking, bargain-makirg man.", 1 1: 1 ~~~~~" An eating, drinking, bargain-makir g man." X tenderness, have become, under the shadow of misfortune, the objects of our most devoted Or if after such a retrospection, perchance affection. we sigh, it is not so much with any positive The power which love possesses of en- regret, as with a vague sense of some lndehancing our enjoyments, is of itself sufficient finite loss-a mere illusion-a false colouring to entitle this sentiment to a high place -a deceitful tone-an evanescent charm amongst those that are most influential in which owed its existence to the infatuation their operations upon the human mind. I of the mind, and yet we sigh; because not appeal to the young, or rather to the old the longest period of man's natural life, not who have not forgotten their youth, whether the rapid and entire success of all our love has not at some period of their existence, schemes, not the riches of prosperity poured given a life and vividness to the aspect of into our lap, around our feet, and even becreation, a music to sound, and an intensity yond the circle of our hopes, can restore to all their capabilities of simple and natural what is lost to us, when we are driven to delight, which, while the.enchantment lasted, the conviction that we can love no more. It seemed to raise the pleasures of earth above was an idle phantasy, we tell ourselves in this sublunary sphere, though in remem- after life, and we join in the ridicule that rebrance it claims nothing but a passing probates this foolish passion; but woud we smile, or perhaps a faint sigh of regret, that not give all that time and tears have purwe have lost so much of what constitued chased for us, to sit again in the bright sunthe life of our early existence. We smile shine, to look round upon the fields and the because we have lived to awake from our woods, to listen to the singing of the birds, delusion-to know that the sunshine which and without the excitement of art, or the aid then appeared to us a flood of radiance of borrowed attributes, to feel each individual pouring its golden streams over hill and moment sufficient in its fulness of felicity to grove, and diffusing the principle of happi- lull the memory of the past, and soothe down ness through all the secret mysteries of na- the anxieties of the future, concentrating into ture, was but the ordinary light of day, lia- one point of present time, all that we spend ble to be obscured by mists, and hid from after years in search of, and realizing withus by the intervention of dense snd gloomy out purchase, and without sacrifice, in one clouds. We smile because the brook that single isolated particle of blissful experience, murmured at our feet with such continuous the happiness for which countless myriads and unbroken melody, to our young imagi- are pining in vain. nations pure, and cear, and vivid, like the se- It is a strong proof of the poetical characcret springs of unsophisticated feeling, since ter of love, that all the contempt, and all the then has wearied us with the constant mo- ridicule it meets with in the world, are unanotony of its sound, seeming to tell of little ble to deprive it of the legitimate place which else than pebbles and clea: water. We it holds in the popular works of our best smile, because the song of at least half the authors. Caleb Williams is the only novel birds whose voices were then all music, has that occurs to me, in which the interest of degenerated into a mere chirp; but most of the story is in no way connected with love. all we smile, because that bright being The author has supplied this deficiency, by whose brow was garnished with a glory-at conducting the reader through his pages whose feet we would have laid the accumu- with an intensity of anxiety, scarcely equalled lated treasures of the whole world had we elsewhere; but well as this story is penned, possessed them-the idol whom irreligiously we arrive in the end at the unsatisfactory we had placed upon the high altar of the conviction, that we have been reading an soul, has stepped down from that exalted uhcongenial, hard, bad book, the whole tenor pedestal, and passing forth into the world of which is in direct opposition to the good endowed only with the customary functions providence of God. It may be remarked, in 96 TIHE POETRY OF LIFE. connexion with the same fact, that Sir Wal- sneers of his enemies. The loves of Blackter Scott after he had spell-bound the public eyed Susan, Will Watch, and Roderick by the easy natural flow of his first poems, Random, are more pleasing to John Bull; tried his skill upon the battle of Waterloo, because such is his extreme sensitiveness on and produced one which it is difficult to the score of ridicule, that as soon as the read, though the same master hand is there. fatal smile appears, love, such as it is in these He has since atoned for this want of fealty and similar productions, can be dismissed to the tender passion, by the most delicate altogether as a joke, and no more need be and judicious distribution of it through the said or done about it. But to be convicted whole of his novels, where we find always of sentimentality-to be detected in the act enough, and (what is saying a great deal of exhibiting or infusing, pathos, would be a for the writer) never too much. At the dilemma as unprecedented, as insupportable same time however that love forms an es- to that powerful subborn genius, the grand sential part in our popular works of fiction, aim of whose life is never to commit himit seems to be inconsistent with the genius self; and that man is unquestionably comof the English nation, to make it the entire, mitted-committed beyond the power of reor even the leading subject of any particular demption, who writes a book about love. work. Richardson approaches the nearest Still even to critics —to John Bull, who on to this extreme, but his novels are more re- the score of non-commitment, constitutes ~ markable in this day, for presenting minute himself the chief of critics, love must be a!descriptions of human character, of the social lowed to have the power of developing huhabits and customs of the times in which he man character beyond what is possessed by lived, than as dissertations upon love. Miss any other passion, sentiment, or feeling. Porter, kind as she is in mating all her cha- There is a class of beings so numerous that racters, and marching them off the stage in they form a very important, and in many recouples, gives us battles innumerable, with spects a very useful part of society, who can lively exhibitions of valour, patriotism, and listen to the most enchanting music, with various other passions, good and evil, among ears, and thoughts, and memory alive only which her love scenes form a very small, to the sound of individual notes, imprintand certainly a very inferior part. And Miss ing them separately upon the tablet of Edgeworth, "the great enchantress," who their minds, in order that they may be manages love with more tact, and often with carried home, pricked down upon paper, exquisite pathos, introduces it always with and played upon their own pianos; or who due subserviency to that substantial, sound on beholding the finest specimens of ancient moral, which to the honour of her sex and painting, or sculpture, immediately-before the benefit of her fellow-creatures, she makes they have had time to take in the whole view. the chief object of her clear, well regulated, snatch out the ready sketch-book, and witn and comprehensive mind. that energy which men exhibit in assoclatWe have no work in our language which ing themselves and their own powers with bears any resemblance to the sorrows of all that they admire, apply the busy pencil Werter or to Corinne, each admirable in to the outline, in order that they may exhibit their way, and far above the praise of an to their wondering friends a pattern of the ordinary pen. No Englishman could pos- colouring of the ancients of a Roman sansibly have written either. He could not dal, or a Grecian nose. Even by this class have resigned himself so entirely to any of beings, the most impervious to the tender subject of a tender and evanescent nature, passion, love must be acknowledged to be a as to have studied it metaphysically. The fine study, because it draws forth the capaspirit of sarcasm is so predominant in the bilities of the human mind, and brings forEnglish constitution, that he would have ward its leading features into a strong light. laughed at his work before it was half com- The first effect which love produces upon pleted, and the other half would have re- the imagination is that of exalting or ennomained unfinished, for fear of bringing upon bling its object, and upon the principle of himself the contempt of his friends, and the adaptation, it consequently extends a similar THE POETRY OF LOVE. 97 influence over the mind where it exists. Un- in a language simple and familiar, scarcely der favorable circumstances, and before it admitting of poetical ornament, except in reaches the crisis of its fate, it has a natural memory or imagination; and as the drama tendency to smooth down the asperities of compels all persons to speak for themselves, the temper, to soften the manners, and to dif- almost exclusively from the impulse of the fuse a general feeling of cheerfulness and moment, they can only speak of love in the good will even beyond the sphere of its imr- colloquial language of the day, which lanmediate object. But under circumstances guage changing with the tastes and fashof an opposite description, love is remarkable ions of the world, that of Shakespeare's drafor exhibiting in its train all the evil and frail- matic characters, when they speak of love is ty which belong to our nature. We are sel- not only offinsive to modern ears, but dedom betrayed by any other passion to throw grading to the sentiment itself-a sentiment aside entirely that veil, beyond which pride which always maintains the most elevated conceals her hidden store of private faults character where the proprieties of life are and follies. But love is stronger than pride; most scrupulously observed, and the standand it is besides so absorbing in its nature, ard of moral feeling is the highest. Yet that we are apt to forget while devoting Shakespeare has left a striking proof that he ourselves to one object, the figure we are could reverence this feeling, in the following exhibiting to the eyes of the world, the se- beautifu. stanza. crets we are disclosing, and the open rev- "Let me not to the marriage of true minds, elation we are making of our "heart of Admit impediments. Love is not ove l hearts." That alters when it alteration finds, l Love," says a popular and powerful wri- Or bends with the remover to remove. Oh! no! it is an ever fixed mark, ter, " is a very noble and exalting sentiment That looks on tempest and is never shaken: in its first germ and principle. We never Itisthestarofeverywanderinghark, loved without arraying the object in all the Whose worth's unknown although its height be taken. loved wtuarnghojtnale Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks glories of moral as well as physical perfec- Within his bending sickle's compass come; tion, and deriving a kind of dignity to our- Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, selves from our cD a But bears it out even to the edge of doom." selves from our capacity of admiring a creature so excellent and dignified; but this It would be wholly at variance with nalavish and magnificent prodigality of the ture, were the poet to make his characters imagination often leaves the heart a bank- speak in tropes and metaphors, with classirupt. Love in its iron age of disappointment cal allusions, and rounded periods, of the becomes very degraded —it submits to be passion whose powerful influence was then satisfied with merely external indulgences- upon them. No man ever yet could speak a look-a touch of the hand, though occur- or write poetically, for any length of time, of ring by accident-a kind word, though ut- the love he was then experiencing. Thus it tered almost unconsciously, suffices for its is only by occasional touches of feeling that humble existence. In its first state, it is like burst upon us in all their genuine intensity, man before the fall, inhaling the odours of that the depth of the sentiment is discovered. paradise, and enjoying the communion of Our language may be forcible and affecting, the Deity; in the latter, it is like the same but it is impossible that it should be elabobeing toiling amid the briar and the thistle, rate when we are feeling acutely; and there barely to maintain a squalid existence, with- is a certain identity with self; an exclusiveout enjoyment, utility, or loveliness." ness, giving something like sacredness to the Shakespeare has done little towards giv- sensations which belong to love, that rening dignity to this passion, though he seems ders an open, full, unsparing exposure of it to have been intimately acquainted with its repulsive, even in the pages of the poet. It influence upon the human mind. The rea- is this sacredness, which, above all other son is obvious. Love is a familiar feeling, things constitutes the poetry of love. Those associating itself with mankind in their dai- who live under its influence possess, so ly walk, and entering into the ordinary and long as that influence lasts, a secret treadomestic scenes of life; it therefore speaks sure, and often betray by their inadvertent 7 98 THE POETRY OF LIFE. expressions, and by a speaking smile, that tence, which gathers in all their wandering they believe themselves to be enjoying an hopes and desires. Here they fix them to inward source of satisfaction, which their one point, and make that the altar upon companions know not of. Imagination in- which all the faculties of the soul pour out vests with a peculiar importance and a mys- their perpetual incense. I terious charm. all the minutiae of life, as it is Burns, who has written of love more freconnected with one individual being, and the quently, yet with more simplicity of sweetmind broods over its own private and par- ness than ally other of our poets, strikingly ticular hoard of joy, with a constant watch- illustrates the potency of this sentiment i fulness and jealousy lest the world, that fell in associating itself with our accustomed I spoiler, should break in and pollute, even if amusements and avocations. There was it had no inclination or ability to steal. no object in nature which he did not find it Under the influence of' love, we are sus- possible to compare or contrast with the picious even of' ourselves. We shrink from reigning queen of his affections; but the making it the common topic of conversation. memory of one, above all others, he has imIt is a feeling which admits of no participa- mortalized in strains as touching and poettion. We would not, if we could, make ical, as ever flowed from a faithful recollecconverts, any farther than our admiration tion, a warm imagination, and a too fond extends; and as there is no sympathy to be heart. obtained by communication, no one at all The lines beginning acquainted with the world, or with the principles of human nature, would ever tell their love, were it not for the power which this are, or ought to be, too familiar to every passion possesses to overthrow the rational reader of taste and sensibility to need repetifaculties, to blind perception, and to silence tion here, as well as those to Highland Maexperience, holding the wise man captive in ry, equally expressive of ardent and poetical the leading strings of second childhood, and feeling, a feeling which all the rough usages drawing him on from one folly to another, of the world were unable to deprive of its until at last he awakes from his dream, and tenderness, and which all the allurements of feels, like the unfortunate bellows-mender, vice and folly were unable to divest of its that he is wearing an ass's head. No soon- purity. In glancing over the pages of this er is the spell dissolved, than he turns upon genuine bard of nature, we are every mohis fellow-creatures the weapons of ridicule, ment struck with the particular pathos with dipped in the venom of his wounded pride; which he speaks of love. Read as an inhe laughs the more in order that he may ap- stance the following lines, so unlike anything pear to make light of his recent bonds, and that we meet with in the productions of thus revenges himself for his own mortifica- the present day. tion. Those who are wise enough to profit by " Had we never lov'd sae blindly, the experience of others, learn to keep.i- Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Never met or never parted, lence on this theme, but it pervades their We had ne'er been broken-hearted. thoughts and feelings not the less. It is "Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest! present with them in the morning whenthey Fare the weel, thou best and dearest! awake, and in the evening when they seek Thine be ilka joyment, love, and pleasure! repose. It is cradled in the bosom of the "Ae fond kiss, and then we sever scented rose, and rocked upon the crested Ae fareweel, alas for ever! waves of the sea. It speaks to them in the Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wagfe thee." lulling wind, and gushes forth in the fountain of the desert. It is clothed in the gold- Or,en majesty of the noonday sun, and shrouded m the silver radiance of the moon. It is the "c Not the bee upon the blossom, soul of their world, the life of their sweet and In the pride or sunny noon; chosen thoughts, the centre of their exis- All beneath the summer moon! -._... Not the poet, in the moment A harp whose master chord is gone, Fancy lightens on his e'e, A wounded bird that has but one Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, Unbroken wing to soar upon, That thy presence gies to me." Are like what I am without thee." Or again,- In the pages of Shelley we find more freshness, and sometimes more pathos. There Alitho' thueve n hope is denied; is a vividness in his thoughts, and in the Altho' even hope is denied;'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, character of his mind, which we may well Than aught in the world beside." I believe to have proved too keen and restless for the mortal frame in which his delicate, And where in the records of feeling can sensitive, and ethereal spirit was inclosedwe find a more affectionate description of too refined for the common purposes of life, love and poverty contending against each too brilliant for reason, and too dazzling for other, than in the following song; the first religion, and too exquisite for repose. The and last stanza of which I shall quote for following lines have great poetical beauty. the benefit of those who are too wise to think of love, who are too happy to have "'Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, ever been compelled to take poverty into Or the death they bear, their calculations, and who are consequently The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care; unacquainted with the fact that both together In the hattie, in the darkness, in the need, struggling for mastery over the wishes and Shall mine cling to thee, the will, create a warfare as fearful and Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, It may bring to thee." desolating as any which the human heart is capable of enduring. And the following fragment, addressed to love itself, with the exception of the first line, " O Poortith cauld, and restless love, Ye wreck my peace between ye; which is in extremely bad taste, is perhaps Yet Poortith a' I could forgive without its equal in poetry of this descripAn'twere na for my Jeanie. O why should fate sic pleasure have, Life's dearest band untwining? O why sae sweet a flower as love, " Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all Depend on fo Wtune's shining? We can desire, O Love! and happy souls,.*.. * *Ere from thy vine the leaves of autumn fall, "How blest the humble cotter's fate! " Catch thee and feed from their o'erflowing bowls He woos his simple dearie; Thousands who thirst for thy ambrosial dew;- The silly bogles, wealth and state, Thou art the radiance which where ocean rolls Can never make them eerie. Can never make them eerie. * "Investest it; and when the heavens are blue O why should fate sic pleas~ure have, Thou fillest them; and when the earth is fair Life's dearest bands untwining? rLife's deareswt bands untwining a The shadows of thy moving wings imbue Or why sae sweet a flower as love, Depend on fortune's shining." "Its deserts, and its mountains, till they wear Beauty like some bright robe;-thou ever soarest Among the towers of men, and as soft air Moore has done nmuch, perhaps more than other man was capable of doinIn spring, which moves the unawakened forest, any other man was capable of doing, to ren- Clothing with leaves its branches bare and bleak, der this hackneyed theme agreeable to mod- Thou floatest among men; and aye implorest ern tastes, by arraying the idol whose divin- ", That which from thee they should implore:-the weak ity the public had begun to question, in every Alone kneel to thee, ofering up the hearts kind of drapery, graceful and gorgeous, and The strong have broken —yet where shall any seek kind of drapery, graceful and gorgeous, and placing it in every possible variety of light A garment whom thou clothest not?" and shadow. Yet throughout themany ele- From love, as a passion, it is truly delightgant lines which he has devoted to this sub- ful to turn to the consideration of love in its ject, there are none which occur to my re-more social and domestic character; anc collection more poetically simple and touch- here again we find the same poet offering t here again we find the same poet offering to ing than these. his wife the noblest tribute of affection, in 1"1A boat sent forth to sail alone language as tender as it is elevated and At midnight on the moonless sea, pure. 100 THE POETRY OF LIFE. " So now, my summer task is ended, Mary, "That course, nor Delhi's kingly gates, And I return to thee, mine own heart's home; Nor wild Malvah detain, As to t is queen some victor knight of faery, For sweet tte bliss us both awaits Earning bright spoils for his enchanted dome; On yonder western main! Nor thou disdain that ere my fame become Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say, A star among the stars of mortal might, Across the dark blue sea If it indeed may change its natal gloom, But ne'er were hearts so light a-d gay, I Its doubtful promise, thus I would unite As then shall meet in thee!" With thy beloved name, thou child of love and light.'The toil which stole from thee so many an hour If the language of a pure and dignified atIs ended, and the fruit is at thy feet tachment proved by long trial refined by No longer where the woods to frame a bower With interlaced branches mix and meet, suffering, clothed in humility, and wholly diOr where with sound like many voices sweet vested of weakness or selfishness, was ever Waterfalls leap among wild islands green.Whichfrmed for myone bot lone reea wrung out by the power of affliction from the Which formed for my lone boat a lone retreat Of moss-grown trees and weeds, shall I be seen; inmost recesses of an elevated and virtuous But beside thee, where still my heart has ever been." mind, it is in the words of Mrs. Hutchinson, It is worthy of remark, that these lines where she speaks of the love of her lamented form the introduction to a work in which husband. the poet concentrated all the powers of his "There is only this to be recorded, that never was genius. The merits of this work have no- there a passion more ardent and lesse idolatrous; he thing to do with the fact, that it was the loved her better than his life, with inexpressible tendernesse and kindnesse, had a most high obliging esteeme richest offering he had to lay upon the shrine of her, yet still considered honour, religion, and duty of affection, and that that offering was dedi- above her, nor ever suffered the intrusion of such a docated to his wife. Ztage as should blind him from marking her imperfec.tions: these he looked upon with an indulgent eie, which The late amiable Bishop of Calcutta, a did not abate his love and esteeme of her, while it augless exceptionable poet, and a less eccentric mented his care to blot out all those spotts which might i/ genius, h*ras left us a beautiful and affecting make her appeare lesse worthy of that respect he payed her; and thus indeed he soon made her more equall to tribute to affection, under the same pure and him than he found her; for she was a very faithful mirsacred form; and the woman who could in- ror, reflecting truly, though but dimly, his own glories upon him, so long as he was present; but she that was spire these lilnes oulght to have been satisfied nothing before his inspection gave her a faire figure for the rest of her life, never to receive the when he was removed, was only filled with a darke ii incense of less hallowed praise. mist, and never could again take in any delightful object, nor return any shining representation. The greatest. If thou wert by my side, my love! excellencie she had was the power of apprehending, and How fast woul~d evesninf fail - the virtue of loving his: soe as his shadow she waited; In green Benfgfala's palmy grove, on him every where, till he was taken into that region. Listening thre nirghtingale l of light, which admitts of none, and then she vanished into nothing.'Twas not her face that he loved, her " If thoul, my love l wera hy my side, honour and her virtue were his mistresses, and these My babies at my knee, (like Pigmalion's) images of his own making, for he How gaily would our pinnace glide polished and gave form to what he found with all the O'er Gunga's mimic sea! roughnesse of the quarrie about it; but meeting with a'I miss thee at the dawning ray compliante subject for his own wise government, he When on our deck reclined, found as much satisfaction as he gave, and never had ocIn careless ease my limbs I lay, casion to number his marriage among his infelicities." And woo the cooler wind. " I miss thee when by Gunga's stream This beautiful illustration of love combines My twilight steps I guide, all that is essential to the nmost ardent, as But most beneath the moon's pale beam well as the most ennobling sentiment, and I miss thee from my side. wants nothing but metre to entitle't to a "I spread my books, my pencil try, Tile lingering noon to cheer, high place in the scale of poetical merit. But miss thy kind approving eye, There remains one important observation Thy meek attentive ear. to be made on the subject of love, that it "But when of morn and eve, the star marks the progress of national civilization, Beholds me on my knee, I feel, though thou art distant fir, and the improvement or the deterioration of Thy prayers ascend for mne. public morals. Love, above all other pasThen on! then on! where duty leads, sions, is capable of producing the greatest My course be onward still, happiness, or the greatest misery; of being O'er broad Hindostan's sultry meads, O'er bleak Alinorah's hill. the most refined, or the most degraded. It F —-- THE POETRY OF LOVE. 101 may be associated with the highest virtue, well chosen is the greatest treasure we can or made the companion of the lowest vice. possess. We have in such a friend the adWhere a nation or a community is the most dition of another mind, whose strength suplicentious, love is the least respected. Where plies our weakness, and whose virtues render deference is paid to moral laws, and religious us ambitious of the same. We see frequent duties, love is regarded as the bond of do- instances that men alone in the world-unmestic union, the charm which diffuses a known, and unvalued, will commit errors, we secret, but holy influence over our domestic might say vices, from which the well-timed enjoyments. In patriarchal times, when warning of a friend would have restrained men were dispersed over the face of the them, and stain their character with follies, earth in separate families or tribes, love for which. if a friend had blushed, they too dwelt among them like a patient handmaid, would have been ashamed. All the endearministering to their private comfort, but ing associations which Onhance our pleawholly uninfluential in directing their in- sures, or console us under affliction, are portantmovements. In the days of chivalry, centred in the name of friend. When the when men, following the standard of false stroke of adversity falls upon us, the sympaglory, maintained their possessions by force thy of a true friend takes away half its of arms, sacrificed ease, honesty, or life, to heaviness. When the world misunderstands the laws of honour, and the adventures of our meaning, and attributes bad motives to knight-errantry, love was worshipped as what are only ill-judged actions, we think a goddess, whose inspiration endowed (with what satisfaction those who have exher votaries with superhuman power, and perienced the feeling alone can tell) that whose protection was a shield of adamant. there is one who knows us better. When And thus through the different changes of good fortune comes unexpectedly upon us, national character and customs, love adopts in a tide too sudden and too full for enjoyitself to all, luxuriating in the indulgence of ment, we hasten to our friend who shares the artificial life, or sharing the drudgery of cor- overplus and leaves us happy. When poreal toil. doubtfully we tread the dangerous path of Even in individuals, it is not going too far life, misdirected by our passions, and bewilIto say, that low notions of the nature and dered by our fears, we look for the hand of attributes of love, bespeak a vitiated mind, friendship to point out the safe footing, from and show, like the " trail of the serpent," in whence we shall bless our guide. When the garden of Eden, that the principle of wounded, slighted, and cast back into the evil has been there. There is in its elevated distance, by those whose fickle favor we had nature, a character of constancy, truth, and sought to win, we exclaim in the midst of dignity, which constitutes the essence of its our disappointments, " There is one who loves being, and no pure eye can behold it robbed me still!" And when wearied with the of these, without sorrow and indignation. warfare of the world, and " sick of its harsh It is this faculty of adaptation to all circum- sounds, and sights," we return to the comstances and states of being, which renders munion of friendship, as we rest after a labolove so entirely subservient to the purposes rious journey, in a safe sweet garden of reof the poet; because it takes the tone of the freshment and peace. There is unquestiontimes, as well as that of individual charac- ably much to be done in the way of cultivater, and participating in good or evil, calls ting this garden, and maintaining our right forth these opposing principles in all their to possess it; but it repays us for the price, power. and when we have exercised forbearance, Besides the love here spoken of, poetry and interchanged kind offices, and spoken, abounds in descriptions of that which assumes and borne to hear, the truth, and been faiththe sober garb of friendship, and which is ful, and gentle, and sincere, we find a recomperhaps of all others the most substantial pense in our own bosoms, as well as in the support to the human mind, through the affections of our friend. difficulties and temptations necessarily en- There are yet other modifications of X e countered in the journey of life. A friend such as that which constitutes the chF`t` Jf F 102 THE POETRY OF LIFE. domestic union-the love of brothers and sadness or melancholy, and then as a sisters; and lastly, and most to be revered gloomy passion, absorbing every fac ulty of as the foundation of family concord and so-, the soul. cial happiness, we might almost say of Of all the distinctive characters assumed moral feeling, the love which subsists e- by grief, from simple sadness to wild despair, tween parents and children, uniting on one melancholy is the most poetical, because hand the tenderest impressions we have re- while it operates as a stimulant to the imceived with the first lessons we have learn- agination, its influence is so gentle as to ed; or the other, the warmest affection, with leave all the other intellectual powers at full the weightiest responsibility. The weakness liberty to exercise their particular functions. and the waywardness of a child watched Burton speaks of melancholy as engenderover by parental love, directed by parental ing strange conceits-as quickening the percare, and reclaimed by parental authority, ceptions, and expanding the faculties of the are so frequently alluded to in the Scrip- mind; and Lord Byron, scarcely less intitures, when describing the condition of man mate than this quaint old writer with the in reference to his Maker, and in themselves different mental maladies to which our naharmonize so entirely with that relations that ture is liable, describes the " glance of melwe use the name of " Heavenly Father," not ancholy" as " a fearful gift." only in obedience to scriptural authority, but because we comprehend in these holy words, What is it but the telescope of truth the highest object of our love, our gratitude, And brings life near in utter n akedness, and our veneration. Making the cold reality too real I' We cannot better conclude this chapter than with the following appropriate lines by When melancholy takes possession of the Southey. soul, we lose as it were the perspective of our mental vision. We forget the relative'They sin who tell us love can die. proportions of things, and mistaking the With life all other passions fly, small for the great, or the distant for the All others are but vanity. In heaven ambition cannot dwell, near, magnify their importance, examine Nor avarice in the depths of hell. their particular parts, and fill our imaginaEarthly these passions, as of earth, tions with their nature and essence. This They perish where they have their birth. But love is indestructible; is in fact "making the cold reality too real;" Its holy flame for ever burneth, for though there is much of truth in the vivid From heaven it came, to heaven returneth; Too oft on earth a trouble guest, perceptions ef melancholy, it is truth misToo oft on earth a troubled guest, At times deceived, at times oppressed, placed; truth with which the wise man has It here is tried and purified, little to do, but which ministers powerfully to And hath in heaven its perfect rest; 1) AndIt sweth in heaven ith toil ad cat rest; the wretchedness of the "mind diseased." It soweth here with toil and care, But the harvest time of love is there. Being in our nature as liable to pain as we Oh!b when a mother meets on high are susceptible of pleasure; and by the The babes she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, neglect of our privileges, and abuse of. our The day of wo, the anxious night, faculties, subjected to the experience of even From all her sorrows, all her tears, greater suffering than enjoyment; it necesAn over-payment of delight!" sarily follows, that those views of the condition of man which are tinctured with the sombre hues of melancholy, should be reTHE POETRY OF GRIEF. garded as the most natural as well as the most interesting. There is little poetry in THE poetry of grief is exhibited under so mirth, or even in perfect happiness, except great a variety of forms, all capable of so as It is contrasted with misery; and thus all wide a difference in character and degree, attempts to describe the perfection of heathat it will be necessary to speak of the sen- venly beatitude fail to interest our feelings. timent of grief, first, under that mild and The joys of heaven are, according to the softened aspect which assumes the name of writers who have ventured upon these de fNil~ THE POETRY OF GRIEF. 1031 scriptions, chiefly made up of luxuries which ence lasts; and when it is over, it call only in this world money alone can purchase, and be alluded to with a certain degree of sadmoney is connected in our ideas with toil ness andregret. It has been justly observed, and strife, with envy, and jealousy, and that it requires a more amiable temper of never-ending vexation; or they consist of mind to laugh with those who laugh, than fountains always pure, flowers that never to weep with those who weep; and expefade, and skies which no cloud has ever ob- rience must have taught all who have made scured-things which we find it difficult to the experiment that it is less difficult to exconceive: or of perpetual praises sung by an cite interest by detailing our sorrows, than innumerable host of saints-an employment our joys. Our friends weep with us, butfor which we are not yet able to separate from themselves; and perhaps at the bottom of ideas of monotony and weariness. Far their hearts are not grieved to find that they more touching and more descriptive of that do not suffer alone. But when we fly to state to which the experienced soul learns to them, full of our own individual hopes and aspire as to its greatest bliss, are those de- joys, they often unconsciously throw some scriptions and allusions abounding in the damp upon our ecstatic emotions, or coldly Holy Scriptures, and particularly in the turn away, deeming us selfish, and inconBook of Revelations, where a great multi- siderate to have wholly forgotten their sittude which no man could number, are seen uation in the enjoyment of our own. standing around the throne arrayed in Lord Byron, the most melancholy of all white robes, and with palms in their hands: our poets found a home in every heart. and when the question is asked, who are The love-lorn maiden fed upon his pages, these, and whence came they? it is answer- well pleased to read expressions which desed, " these are they which came out of great cribed a passion hopeless and irremediable tribulation-they shall hunger no more, as her own; the disappointed and the dissoneither thirst any more; neither shall the lute discovered there the language of a sun light on them, nor any heat. For the sympathy, which they sought in vain of the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne giddy world around them; but above all, shall feed them, and shall lead them unto the misanthrope curled his contemptous living fountains of waters: and God shall lip, and gloried in having found a high and wipe away all tears from their eyes." Here titled bard who scorned mankind as he did. the allusion to the sufferings and wants of It would be difficult to point out the producour moral nature is continued throughout, tions of any light and joyous poet, which forming that natural and necessary contrast have been equally popular and equally penwith perfect happiness, which is the very etrating to the soul of the reader. Some essence of poetry. Such expressions as there are which have been great favourites these come home to the heart that has known with the public; but such for the most part tribulation, and therefore can conceive the have been recommended by the force of blessedness of eternal repose-which has their satire, and the poignancy of their jests, known the anguish of mortal sorrow, and rather than for the pure stream of' rational therefore can appreciate the healing of the happiness flowing through their strains. heavenly Comforter. It is scarcely necessary to repeat, that Everything that deeply interests our feel- poetry, in order to meet with a welcome in ings has some connexion with our own con- the world, must address itself to the feelings dition, or some accordance with our own of mankind as they are, not as they should tastes. All who experience a healthy state be. It may be, and unquestionably has of mind have a keen relish for happiness; been, the means of raising in the soul a high but all are not so free from envy or selfish- tone of moral feeling, of purifying what is ness as fully to enjoy the happiness of gross, and subduing what is harsh; but others; and that which falls to our own this can only be effected by establishing a share is so absorbing in its nature, that we chain of connexion between our low wants feel little inclination to pour it forth in and wishes, and that which is high, and poetical descriptions, at least while its influ- pure, and holy. Happiness therefore-hap 1104 THE POETRY OF LIFE. piness without alloy, can never be a guage, suited to the nmost elevated concepsuitable theme for the muse until we enter tions of the human mind, which first diffused upon a state of existence where it shall more the refreshing stream of poetry over the frequently be cur experience. But melanr word, gave the charm of melody to the i: choly; towarcs which all our teelings have hymns of Israel's minstrel king, inspired the some tendency, either immediate or remote, father of ancient vers6 with those heroic will add a charm to the language of poetry strains which still delight the world, found a so long as it is understood and felt by all. language and a voice for the impassioned soul Descriptions of life withcut its cares and of Sappho, fired the genius of Euripides, and sorrows, would appear to us little less wea- which still continues, though often unknown risome and unnat;ual than landscapes with- and unacknowledged, to tune to harmony the out shadow; but those which are varied by poet's secret thoughts, operating upon the the sombre colouring borrowed by experi- springs of sympathy and love, like the airs ence from the hand of grief, exhibit the that touch unseen the chords of the ZEolian principles of harmony, and the essential harp. characteristics of truth. But above all, it is under the influence of It has been wisely ordered by the Author sorrow that this want is felt. Joy is suffiof our being, that we should be stimulated to cient of itself; the soul receives it, and is action by certain wishes and wants arising satisfied. But sorrow is burdensome, and within ourselves. Had man, constituted as the soul would gladly throw it off; and behe now is, been placed in a situation of per- cause it cannot give what no one is willing feet enjoyment, it must necessarily have been to receive, would cast it upon the winds, one of supineness and sloth, in which his or diffuse it through creation's space. The mental powers would have experienced no mind that is under the influence of melanexercise, and consequently no improvement. choly, knows no rest. It is wearied with an Thus when we look with regret upon the incessant craving for something beyond itdaily wants of mankind, and feel disposed to self. It seeks fobr sympathy, but never finds regard them as a defect in his nature, or an enough. It is dissatisfied with present things, error in his morals, we do not reflect that and because the beings around it are too they are parts of a powerful machine, so gross or too familiar to offer that refined constructed and designed as to awaken and communion for which it ever pines, it pours stimulate man's highest capabilities, yet so forth in poetic strains the transcript of its liable to derangement, misapplication, and own sorrows, trusting that the world conabuse, as to be frequently converted by his tains other sufferers at least half as wretched ignorance, or want of care, into the engine as itself, who will read, with a pity too disof his own destruction. It was the want of tant to offend, descriptions of a fate more some medium of communication which first lamentable than their own. led to the use of certain sounds as signs There needs no greater proof that melanof our ideas, and it was the same want choly is poetical, than the effect it produces which produced such an arangement of these upon the imagination, converting everything sounds as to constitute a copious language; into its own bitter food. Under the influit was the want of some sweet influence to ence of melancholy, the voice of friendship soothe thle asperities of pain, and labour, and often sounds reproachful and always unfeelfatiguec, which prompted the cultivation of ing when it speaks the truth; the looks of music; it was the want of some visible and gladness worn by others, are proofs of their substantial personification of their own ideas want of consideration for ourselves; acts of of beauty and grandeur, which operated upon kindness are instances of pity, and pity, unthe genius of the first artists, and produced der such circumstances, always appears acthose massive but sublime attempts at sculp- companied with contempt. Love is Ep to ture which arose among the Egyptians, attack those who are victims of melancnoly, and were afterwards improved upon by the but it is always in some forbidden shape; more refined inhabitants of ancient Greece; and religion, which is, or ought to be, the and it was the want of a higher tone of lan- sovereign balm for all mental maladies, ap THE POETRY OF GRIEF. 105 pears to them like a sacred inclosure drawn devour their victims; in the city, it is sensiaround a chosen few, from which they are bie only of poverty, disease, and accumueternally shut out. If they read the Bi- lated crime; and in the social circle, it sees ble, they turn to the lamentations of Jer- only the lip of scorn, the pale cheek, or the emiah, Ecclesiastes, or the Book of Job; averted eye. Over the calendar o0 births, and seated on a cushion of ease, in the full marriages, and deaths, the melanchc y hold enjoyment of health, and wealth, and luxury themselves peculiarly privileged to mourn, of every kind, they believe themselves to be because, in the first instance, another senas severely tried, as miserable, and perhaps tient and responsible being is added to the as patient, as the heroic sufferer. If they dark catalogue of those who come into the go forth into the fields, the flowers either world to sin and suffer; in the second, an look wan and sickly, or mock them with their additional proof is about to be exhibited begorgeous hues; the tree spread around a fore the world of the fallacy of human hopes, gloomy shade; the streams murmur, as eve- and the disappointment which inevitably atrything on earth has a right to do; the birds tends our pursuit of earthly happiness; and and the insects that flutter in the sunshine, the third is an awful evidence of that fatal are poor deluded victims of mortality, sport- doom to which we are all hastening. In ing away their short-lived joy; the clouds short, there is nothing natural or familiar, which vary the aspect of the landscape, and sweet or soothing, good or great, which does the calm blue heavens, are emblematical of not set the gloomy and morbid imagination the " palpable obscure" in which their own afloat upon " a sea of troubles:" and it is this fate is involved; and if the sun shines forth exuberance of fancy, this illimitable range in his glory, it is to remind them that no sun of thought, this fertility of the mind in will ever more rise to disperse the darkness producing objects of mournful associations, of their souls. Instead of indulging in those which constitutes the poetry of melancholy. wide and liberal views which embrace the perfection and beauty of the universe, they,"I have of late," says Hamlet, "(but wherefore I attention upon objects single ad know not,) lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exfix their attention upon objects single and ercises: and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my dispominute, choosing out such as may most sition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a easily be connected with gloomy associa- sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestions. In the gorgeous hues of the autumnal tical roof, fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no foliage, the eye of melancholy can distin- other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation guish nothinog but the faded leaves just sep- ofvapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form, and movarated from the bough, and flickering down- ing, how express, and admirable! in action, how like an wards on the reckless wind, with those dizzy angel! in apprehension, how like a god! The beauty of and convulsive movements which are wont the world, the paragon of animals! and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust 3 Man delights not me-nor to precede an irrevocable fall; from amongst woman neither." the cheerful songsters of the grove, it singles out the bird with wounded wing; it per- We now come to the consideration of grief ceives the rifled nest, and knows by the scat- as a passion, under which character there is teredplumage that the spoilerhasbeenthere; one peculiarity to be remarked, tending powthroughout the flowery wilderness of the erfully to invest it with the poetical charm it fields, or the gorgeous bloom of the cultiva- unquestionably possesses-it is the peculiar ted garden, it sees only the blighted blossom, force and vividness of some of our percepthe broken stem, or the fatal ravages of the tions while the mind is under the immediate canker-worm; in the heavens, it beholds on- influence of grief. It is true we cannot ly the setting sun, the waning moon, or the reason, nor calculate, nor detect the weakfeeble star that glitters in a world of gloom; ness of sophistry, because the mind in this in the animal kingdom, it selects those spe- state is incapable of action. The only fa — cies which prey upon each other, and turns culty awakened in it, is that of receiving lmfrom the sportive gambols of the lamb, to pressions; a power considerably he ghtened the kite that hovers over the feathery brood, and increased by the total suspension of its or the tiger and the cat that torture ere they active operations. But it is to trifles alone,_____________________________________ ____________________________________________ j~~I1 106 THE POETRY OF LIFE. that this power is applied-to things of no afford clear and palpable evidence of the Importance, and such as hold no relative tremendous strength and violence of the connexion with the cause of grief. Thus overwhelming flocd. the criminal at the bar, though wholly in- Lord Byron has described with his wor ted capacitated for taking into consideration the power and pathos this capability of the nature of the laws by which he is tried, mind, when under the influence of grief, in looks round upon the judge, the witnesses, that most affecting (I might almost say and the whole court; and with an acuteness most beautiful) of his poems " The Dream." and vividness of perception which seem In the melancholy scene so forcibly exhibiactually to be the means of forcing every ting the deep but silent anguish of plighting unwelcome object upon his sight, lie beholds the hand without the heart, how naturally the breathless and expectant multitude do the thoughts of the gloomy being he has around him, from amongst whom he is able chosen to represent, rush back to the season to distinguish, and single out particular faces, of his first-his only love, and settle upon which, if he is happy enough to escape the the last agonizing moment of separation, dreaded dcom, will remain impressed upon which life has now no power to equal by any his memory till his latest day. The mes- future suffering. A minor poet, or a less senger who brings us evil tidings, is, for any experienced reasoner, would have centred all thought or interest that we bestow upon him the recollections of the heart-stricken brideindividually, a mere intelligence, a voice, a groom in the person of the lady herself; but breath of air; and yet we find afterwards Lord Byron, who could at his own pleasure that we have involuntary noted down in make use of expressions as delicate as poeticharacters never to be obliterated, his coun- cal-as poetical as true, colouring the whole tenance, his dress, his manner, and the tones scene with those ethereal tints which belong in which his errand was delivered. We to the hightest genius, merely alludes to the watch by the bedside of the dying, our very sacred object of such deep, and fervent, and souls absorbed by the near prospect of that forbiding thoughts as a 1" destiny;" while he fearful dissolution which is about to deprive gives us the minor parts of the picture, clear, us of a child, a parent, a friend or a brother, and distinct as they would be in the meunconscious that our thoughts have wander- mory of one who could feel and suffer like ed for one moment from what was most im- himself. portant or impressive in that awful scene;.- He could see yet in after life, even when the heavy wheels Not that which was, but that which should have been of time have rolled over us, laden with other But the remembered chambers and the place, The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade,accidents and other griefs, we are able to All things pertaining to that place and hour, recall, with a distinctness almost incredible And her who was his destiny, came back to those who have never known it the par- And thrust themselves between him and the light. What business had they there at such an hour i" ticular aspect of that sick chamber-the folded curtains-the pillow without rest-the WVe might add to what has already been wild delirious wanderings-the countenance said of grief, the pleasure which it is supof the nurse-the voice of the physician- posed to afford in recollection; a subject and all the other minutiae of that mournful much sung and celebrated by the poets, bu scene. one to which I confess myself too ignorant, It is with the tide of feeling as with a or too obtuse to be able to do justice. Still swollen river. The violent and overwhelm- we all know there are those who can linger ing force of the torrent bears along with it over the grave recently closed over their innumerable fragments from the desolated heart's treasure, who love to revisit scenes shore. Whille the stream rushes on, swollen of former suffering, and dwell in lengthened and tumultuous, these fragments are scarcely detail upon the sorrows they have endured; distinguishable amongst the whirlpools, and and I am inclined to believe that such are rapids, and roaring falls; but when it sub- the individuals best qualified to describe the sides and again glides calmly within its nat- poetry of grief; rather than those who shrink ural boundaries, they rise to the surface and from allretrospectionofttheir own experience, I THE POETRY OF GRIEF. 107 and hurry on through life to find in the the comfort of protection? There is somefuture what has failed them in the past. thing in our very nature which makes us We turn from this subject to the con- yearn with peculiar tenderness over those sideration of griefunder that peculiar charac- who mourn for their first grief. They have ter which appears to claim more than its never troubled us with their complaints bedue share of interest, and which by the fore. We have been wont to see them light world is calledfirst grief: and joyous, bounding forth upon their morThe first grief generally arises from disap- tal race; but now their speed is checked, pointment in love, death of parents, change of the wished for goal has vanished from their fortune, or neglect of friends; all sufficient sight, the stimulus is withdrawn, and unable causes of sorrow, yet by no means so pow- either to pause, or to retrace their rapid way, erful or durable in their effects, as the ac- they begin to feel that the long dull path becumulated cares, crosses, and afflictions, fore them must be trod bymanya weary step. which beset us in after life. This grief is We have learned this truth ourselves, we comparatively without association, and there- know that all who live must learn it, and fore, though touching and pathetic in the yet to spare those who are untutored in life's extreme, because it falls upon the young, harsh discipline, though but for another and often upon the beautiful, cannot in the year-a day-an hour of innocent enjoyexperience of the mourner be comparable ment, we would almost be willing to bear a to those in which are combined the accu- fresh stroke of the axe to which we have mulated sufferings that arise from memory, already become accustomed-the loss of and anticipation-the recollection of happi- another branch-the blight of another bough. ness that never can return —the fear of fu- It is this tenderness, felt and acknow ture evil yet more intolerable than the pre- ledged by all, which gives the charm of sent. ideal loveliness to the tears of the young The first grief is unquestionably a fertile mourner, which heightens the interests of! subject for the poet, because it supplies all those afflictions that are but a faint type of the interest arising from strong contrast; as a what life has yet in store, and which in fact sudden blight falling upon the luxurious vege- constitutes the poetry of the first grief. tation of a productive soil, affords more mat- Another and perhaps the most legitimate ter for affecting and melancholy description, cause of grief is death; a calamity common to than the leafless desert stretched out in all, but not felt the less forbeing alike incident its perpetual sterility beneath a burning to the young, and the old; the good, and the sun. evil; the rich, and the poor; the noble and The first grief comes to the young heart the abject. Under all other afflictions we like the rough wind to the blossom-like the may school ourselves into the belief that early frost to the full blown flower-like the some hope of remedy or alleviation yet regathering vapours to the smiling sun-like mains; but our reflections upon this fatal the dark cloud to the silver moon-like the catastrophe are uniformly stamped with that storm to the summer sea-like the sudden word of awful and irrevocable importinfluence of all those fatal accidents which never.* Never more shall we listen to the deface the lovely and verdant aspect of na- voice whose familiar tones were like the ture; not like that dull monotony of constant care which experience proves to be far more intolerable, but which the poet rejects for' Madame de Stael has remarked upon the words no its very weariness. The tears which dim more, that both in sound and sense they are more descriptive of melancholy meaning than any other in our the eye of youthful beauty are wholesome, language. If not before these, at least second in the natural, and refreshing, compared with those scale, I would place the single word alone, and next to which wear away the waning sight. When this never. I have heard of a poor maniac, who spent her life in singing or chanting this word three times reyouthful beauty weeps, what heart so cal- peated "never-never-never," in a mournful cadence lous as not to be touched with pity? What composed of six different notes of music; and it might afford matter of interesting speculation to the poet, to benevolence so limited as not to extend to ask what was the nature of her grieon to that c ould nee the fair sufferer the consolation of love, and die-of her loss that could never be restored X 108 THE POETRY OF LIFE. memory of sweet music heard in childhood which the higher faculties of the soul take -never shall the beaming eye whose lan- no cognizance —the smiles-the tones of guage was better understood than words, mutual happiness-the glowing cheek-the light up the secrets of our souls again- sunny hair-the gentle hand-the well never shall the parental hand be laid upon known step-and all that fills up and or akes | our own with the earnestness of experience, perfect the evidence of long cherished affec II and the warmth of love-never shall the in- tion; exchanged for what? For the monocent prattle of those cherub lips now tionless and marble stillness of death, and sealed in death awaken us from our morn- the cold, unnatural gloom of that deep seping slumbers-never shall the counsel of ulchre which conceals what even love itself that long tried friend guide us again through has become willing to resign-for the sad the mazy paths of life. We might have return to the desolate home-the silent lived and perhaps we have, without their chamber-the absent voice-the window actual presence; seas might have rolled be- without its light-the familiar name untween us; and wide countries separated spoken-the relics unclaimed-the harp their home and ours: but to believe in their untouched-the task unfinished-the blank existence was enough-to think that they at the table unfilled up-the garden walks looked upon the same world with ourselves untrodden-the flowers untended-the fa-that the same sun rose to them and to us vourite books closed up as with a seal-in -that we gazed upon the same moon —and short, the total rending away of that sweet that the same wind which breathed its spirit- chord, without which, the once harmonious ual intelligence into our ears, might in its strains of social intercourse are musical no wild and lawless wanderings, have sighed more. around their distant dwelling. But above The effect produced upon the mind by all, that the time might come when we the contemplation of death, is of a character should yet meet to recognize the same fea- peculiarly refined and gentle. We necestures, though changed by time-the same sarily forgive the dead, even though they voice though altered in its language-and the may have been our enemies: and if our same love, though long estranged, yet never friends we remember their virtues alone. totally extinguished. We must now satisfy They have lost the power to offend again, ourselves that this can never be; and why? and therefore their faults are forgotten. It not from any cause which the power and is true, there are associations with the bodily ingenuity of man can remedy, or the cas- part of death which scarcely come under uality of after events avert; but simply be- the denomination of refined, but from these cause the vital principle which never can our nature shrinks; even the common nurse be revived, is extinct, the functions of hu- performs her last sad office in silence, and manity are destroyed, and the friend of our delicacy shrouds in everlasting oblivion the bosom is no more. mortal remains of the deceased. It is the It is true that religion points to the ethe- task of' the poet to record their noble actions real essence existing in a happier sphere, — their benevolence-their patient suffering directs the attention of the mourner to the -their magnanimity-their self-denial; and undying soul, and urges on his hope to an while he performs this sacred duty, his eternal union; but we have earthly feelings bosom burns with enthusiasm to imitate the too frequently usurping the place where virtues he extols. religion ought to reign; and love that is The loss of fortune is another cause of!"Otrong as death," turns away from the grief, not less severely felt for being of comHIeavenly Comforter, and will not be con- mon occurrence. Those who have never soled. Love holds a faithful record of the tasted the real bitterness of poverty, tell us past, firo-n which half the interest, and half in the language of philosophy, that the loss the endearment must now be struck out, of fortune is a very insufficient cause for the rendering the future barren, waste, and grief of a wise man; that our nature is not void. Love keeps an inventory of its secret degraded when our bodies are clad in treasures, where it notes down things of homely garments; and that the friends THE POETRY OF GRIEF. 109 whose esteem is worthy of our regard, will rule cf Scripture, by showing respect unto Ibllow us as willingly to the clay cottage, as the persons of men —the reproaches, covert to the "courts of kings." This might be all and open, which always fall upon those I very true, did reason alone govern the whose success has not been equal to their| world; but we have another law-the law endeavours; as if the affairs of this life were 1 of feeling, more potent in its influence upon so regulated, that to succeed in obtaining the affairs of mankind; and in this law the money were the highest proof of merit-the poet is often much better instructed than the gradual declension (owing to the taking philosopher. The poet knows that to at- away of props on every side when most tempt to remove the pressure of the calami- needed) into a lower grade of society, where ties of life, by reasoning, however plausibly, intellectual refinement is little valued, and upon their transient or trifling nature, is difficult to be maintained-the signs of ennot, in effect, to speak the language of com- vious triumph exhibited by those who in our mon sense; because it does not adapt itself better days would have been our enemies to the feelings of those to whom it is address- if they had dared. Who can endure all ed, so as to render it available ol even in- these, and an endless variety of other causes telligible. As well might we tell the victim of suffering incident to fallen fortune, and of raging fever, that it is absurd to thirst yet so fortify his soul by sage reasoning again, because he has but lately moistened that it shall feel no anguish? No; the poet his lips, as endeavour to persuade him who knows what is in nature and in man; and suffers from the loss of worldly wealth, to therefore he finds a fruitful theme of neverbe comforted, because it is vain to grieve. failing interest in the fountain of his own The poet's sphere being one of feeling, he feelings, which, through the medium of I has within himself so quick and clear an ap- poetic language, is so conducted, as to mix, prehension of all the sources of human pain and blend, and harmonize with those of or pleasure that he sees and understands at others. once why the change of fortune, the depri- A well known cause of grief, and one favation of accustomed privileges and enjoy- miliar to every poetic mind, is loneliness. ments, and the gradual sinking to a lower In one sense it may be said that the poet rank in social life, should occasion the deep- is never alone; but let us ask how it is that est sorrow and regret. Were reason the he learns to make sole regulator of our passions and propensi~~ties, we should ever g because we -" him friendsofmountains; witl the stars, ties, we should never grieve; because we And the quick spirits of the universe are taught by the experience of every day, To hold his dialogues - 3" that good may arise out of what we have blindly called evil; and because we are Perhaps there never was a poet who had assured upon the highest evidence, that our not first sought to find in his own species worldly affairs even when darkest and most that real sympathy, for which he becomes perplexed, are under the government of a afterwards satisfied to substitute the ideal. gracious and unerring Providence: but the It is impossible but that the elevated and experience of every day teaches us also, finely constituted mind should often find that these important truths have not their itself alone, and if morbid and too sensitive, proper weight in human calculations. Who, as such minds generally are, it must be for instance, can meet with equanimity the always so in the common haunts of human clamorous attacks of suspicious creditors, kind. The poet who can be satisfied with whose claims he knows he is unable to sup- nothing less than entire communion and ply? Who can bear the mute appeals of sympathy of soul, is alone in the crowded those whc have been dependent upon his city, where, amidst the rush of thousands bounty and protection, when he has no of busy feet not one is found to pause because longer the power to offer either-the looks he is near-alone in the garden's flowery i estranged of former friends; for friendship paths, where there is no eye to look for in the-world is not what it is fabled to be in eoauty and delight in the same objects with books, but will sometimes deviate from the his-alone beneath the starry canopy of 110 THE POETRY OF LIFE. heaven, where none will join his midnight ate, or destroy. It cannot exist alone and rambles —-alone at the altar, where his pecu- separate from association. liar faith is liable to be contemned —-alone in As it is the nature of all grievances to the season of grief —-alone in the hour of awaken suggestions of their own remedy, so joy —-alone in all those ecstatic emotions the poet, after deeply experiencing the grief which give the power of life and action to arising from loneliness, learns to satisfy his the highest faculties of our nature, raising it soul in its pining after a spiritual communion above the common level of ordinary exis- with all that is pure, and lovely, and suvltune, tence —alone in those moments of weakness by an ideal converse with nature. Hlaving and dependence, when the soul is hungering found the objects of his search but seldom, after that intellectual sustenance which or where they existed, but faintly revealed never yet was found in the selfish or sordid amongst the children of men, he returns avocations of life, pining for the consolations with fresh ardour, and renewed desire to the of a higher sympathy than the world affords, solitude of the sequestered valley, the heights and ready to lean upon the veriest reed for of the trackless mountain, or the echoing its support. To feel all this without the shores of the ever restless sea; not because power either of communicating or receiving he actually believes, what his muse somewhat is most intimately connected with the times fantastically describes, that "myriads soul, is true loneliness; and therefore the of happy spirits walk the air unseen," depoet, escaping from the contact of uncon- livering their earthly errand to his privileged genial minds, flies to his own peculiar home and attentive ear; but because there exists in the bosom of nature, where, if the inter- in his bosom an insatiable love of what is course he meets with be ideal, it is sufficient sweet,and calm, and soothing, which he finds to satisfy a mind etherealized like his; es- in the freshness and repose of nature-an pecially as it differs from that of the world, intense enjoyment of what is elevated, and in being such as will neither mock nor mar majestic, which crowns his labour in climbthe harmony of his own breast. But this in- ing to the mountain's brow-a deep sense tercourse is not in reality ideal. The Author of power, and grandeur, and magnificence, of our being has so constructed the world, which leads him to the ocean's brink, to pour animate and inanimate, that there are laws his soul forth in its native element-the true of sympathy and association unmarked by sublime. the obtuse perceptions of sensual beings, The last character under which we shall which connect the different, and to us appa- attempt to describe the poetical nature of rently incongruous parts of the universe, so grief, is that of pity-a sentiment so admiraas to form an entire and perfect whole. bly adapted to the relief of the wants and We read of a solitary prisoner immured sufferings of humanity, that we regard it as within the bare walls of a dungeon, who one of our greatest blessings; because we owe tamed a spider, and even loved it; because to pity half the kind offices of life, never feelthe principle of love was strong within him, ing the pain it awakens in ourselves, without -and he had no other object for his affections. feeling also sonie laudable impulse, and Love is but one of the many stimulants that seldom witnessing the signs of it in others, urge us on to seek through the world for without hailing them as omen.s of good. Inobjects on which these affections can be deed so powerhul is the influence of pity, that lavishlled, and situations in which they may it is the first refuge of innocence —the last be indulged; and if deprived of the power of guilt; and when artifice would win from of gratifying our tastes and wishes by change feeling what it wants merit to obtain from of scene or circumstance, imagination will do discretion, it neveri fails to appeal to pity her utmost to transform what is repulsive with an exaggerated.history of suffering and in itself, into an object of tenderness, interest distress. or admiration: for such are the bounds But for the gentle visitations of pity, the which connect our intellectual nature with couch of suffering would be desolate indeed. the material world, that the mind must lay Pain, and want, and weakness would be hold of something to grapple with, appropri- left to water the earth with tears, and reap THE POETRY OF GRIEF. 1fl in solitude the harvest of despair. The up to the source of all our mercies, where, prisoner in his silent cell, would listen in vain separate from its mortal mixture of pain, pity for the step of his last earthly friend; and performs its holy offices of mercy and forthe reprobate beneath the world's dread giveness. stigma, involving in wretchedness and ruin, would find no faithful hand to lift the pall of public disgrace, and reclaim the lost one from a living death. But more than all, THE POETRY OF WOMAN. without pity, we should want the bright opening in the heavens through which the AFTER what has aiready been said of love radiance of returning peace shines forth upon and grief, we feel that to treat at large upon the tears of penitence-we should want the the poetry of woman, must be in some meaark of shelter when the waters of the deluge sure to recapitulate what forms the sub-, were gathering around us-we should want stance of the two preceding chapters; bete cloud by day, and the pilliar of fire by cause, from the peculiar nature and tendennight to guide our wanderings through the cy of woman's character, love and grief may JI wilderness. be said to constitute the chief elements of The grief arising from pity is the only dis- her existence. That she is preserved from I interested grief we are capable of; and the overwhelming influence of grief, so fretherefore it carries a balm along with it, quently recurring, by the reaction of her which imparts something of enjoyment to own buoyant and vivacious spirit, by the the excitement it creates; but for its acute- fertility of her imagination in multiplying ness of sensation, we have the warrant of means of' happiness, and by her facility in the deep workings of more violent passions, adapting herself to place and time, and laywhich pity has not unfrequently the power ing hold of every support which surrounding to overcome. History affords no stronger circumstances afford, she has solely to thank proof of this, than when Coriolanus yielded the Author of her life, who has so regulated to the tears of his mother, and the matrons the balance of human joys and sorrows, that of Rome, what he had refused to the entrea- none are necessarily entirely and irremediaties of his friends, and the claims of his bly wretched. On glancing superficially at country. the general aspect of society, all women, and But if pity, connected with the power of' all men who see and speak impartially, alleviating misery, is mingled with enjoy- would pronounce the weaker sex to be ment, pity without this power is one of doomed to more than an equal share of sufthe most agonizing of our griefs. To live fering; but happily for woman, her internal amongst the oppressed without being able resources are such as to raise her at least to to break their bonds-amongst the poor with- a level with man in the scale of happiness. out the means of giving-to walk by the side Bodily weakness and liability to illness is of the feeble without a hand to help-to hear one of the most obvious reasons why woman the cries of the innocent without a voice to is looked upon as an object of compassion. speak of peace, are trials to the heart, and Scarcely a day passes in which she has not to the will, unparalleled in the register of some ache or pain that would drive a man grief. And it is this acuteness of sensation, melancholy, and yet how quietly she rests connected with the unbounded influence of her throbbing temples; how cheerfully she pity, and the circumstance of its being woven converses with every one around her, thus in with lhe chain of kindness, and love, and beguiling her thoughts from her own suffercharity, by which human suffering is con- ings; how patiently she resigns herself to nected with human virtue, that constitutes the old accustomed chair, as if chained to tne poetry of grief in its character of pity the very hearth-stone; while the birds are -a character so sacred, that we trace it not warbling forth their welcome to returning only through the links of human fellowship, spring, and she knows that the opening binding together the dependent children of flowers are scenting the fresh gales that earth; but also through God's government, play around the garden where she may not l 112 THE POETRY OlF LIFE. tread, and that the sunny skies are lighting and tears. What is it to her that the brilup the landscape with a beauty which she liance of wit is now extinguished, the famay not look upon-it is possible, which she vourite anecdotes untold, and s.lent all the never may behold again. Yet what is all flattering enconiums that flow from love and this to woman? Her happiness is not in gratitude. It is enough for her that the lips physical enjoyment, but in love and faith. now sealed by grief; the eye now dim with (live her but the voice of kindness-the pure tears, and the heart now tortured with agony, sweet natural music of the feminine soul, are dear-dearer in their unutterable wo, to soothe her daily anguish-to cheer her than the choicest pleasures of the world, did nightly vigil, and she will ask no more: tell they centre in herself alone. No; woman her of the green hills, the verdant woods, will not leave the idol of her worship beand the silver streams, of the songs of the cause the multitude have turned away to birds, and the frolic of the lambs, of nature's bow before another shrine, because the radiant beauty glowing beneath a cloudless wreaths have faded away from the altar, or sky, and of the universal gladness diffused because the symbols of religion are no more. through the animal creation-tell her all this, She hears the popular outcry that her vows in which she has, personally, no participa- are offered to a false deity, but she will not tion, and she will be satisfied, nay, blest. believe, because her faith makes it true. A In the natural delicacy of woman's con- higher object of devotion is pointed out to stitution, however, we see only one of the her, but she clings to that which her imagislightest of the causes of suffering peculiar to nation has invested, and still invests, with her character and station in society; because all the attributes of a celestial being; until her feelings are so entirely relative and depen- at last it falls before her, a hopeless and dent, that they can never be wholly, or even irrecoverable ruin, and then, after vainly half absorbed by that which is confined to her struggling to hide its degradation, she goes own experience, without reference to that of forth into the wilderness alone. others. There are unquestionably many For the poetry of her character, woman exceptions to this rule, but the rule is the is chiefly indebted to her capability of feelsame notwithstanding; and I desire to be ing, extended beyond the possibility of calunderstood to speak not of women indivi- culation, by her naturally vivid imagination; dually, but of the essential characteristics yet she unquestionably possesses other menof woman as a genius. Amongst these tal faculties, by no means inconsiderable in characteristics, I am almost proud to name the scale of moral and intelligent beings. her personal disinterestedness, shown by Those who, depriving woman of her rightthe unhesitating promptness with which she ful title to intellectual capacity, would condevotes herself to watchfulness, labour, and sign her wholly to the sphere of passion and suffering of almost every kind, for, or in lieu affection; and those who, on the opposite of others. In seasons of helplessness, mis- side, are perpetually raving about her equalery, or degradation, who but woman comes ity with man, and lamenting over the inferior forward to support, to console, and to re- station in society which she is doomed to claim? From the wearisome disquietudes fill, are equally prejudiced in their view of of puling infancy, to the impatience and the subject, superficial in their reasoning decrepitude of old age, it is woman alone upon it, and absurd in their conclusions. In that bears with all the trials and vexations her intellectual capacity, I am inclined to which the infirmities of our nature draw believe that woman is equal to man, but in her down upon those around us. Through the intellectual power she is greatly his inferior; monotony of ceaseless misery, it is woman because, from the succession of unavoidable alone that will listen to the daily murmur- circumstances which occur to interrupt the ings of fruitless anxiety, and offer again the train of her thoughts, it is seldom that she is cup of consolation after it has been petulantly able to concentrate the forces of her mind, dashed at her feet. It is woman who with- and to continue their operations upon one draws not her sweet companionship from given point, so as to work out any of those that society whose intercourse is in sighs splendid results, which ensue from the more L _ THIE POETRY OF WOMAN. 113 fixed and determinate designs of man. To glimmering of hope that she may yet be woman, belong all the minor duties of life, permitted to shelter herself beneath the she is therefore incapable of commanding canopy of domestic and social love. Supher own time, or even her own thoughts; pose a woman mentally absorbed in the in her sphere of action, the trifling events eventful history of past times, pondering of the moment, involving the principles of upon the rise and fall of nations, the princigood and evil, which instantly strike upon ples of government, and the march of civher lively and acute perceptions, become of. ilization over the peopled globe; when sud- I the utmost importance; and each of these denly there is placed in her hand a letterduties, with its train of relative considera- one of those mute messengers which sometions, bearing directly upon the delicate fa- times change in a moment, the whole colbric of her mind, so organized as to render ouring of a woman's life, not only clothing it liable to the extremes of pain or pleasure, in shade or sunshine the immediate aspect arising out of every occurrence, she is con- of nature and surrounding things, but the sequently unable so to regulate her feelings, illimitable expanse of her imaginary future. as to leave the course of her intellectpal A letter to a woman is not a mere casual pursuits uninterrupted. thing, to be read like a newspaper. Its Suppose for instance, a woman is studying arrival is an event of expectancy, of hope, Euclid when she hears the cry of her child; and fear; and often seems to arrest in a in an instant she plunges into the centre of moment the natural current.of her blood, her domestic cares, and Euclid is forgotten. sending it by a sudden revulsion, to circle in Suppose another, (for such things have a backward course through all her palpibeen,) deeply engaged in the dry routine of tating veins. In the instance we have supclassic lore, when suddenly the fair student posed, the letter may convey the sad intelsees something in the eye of her tutor, or ligence of the sickness of a friend or relative, hears something in his voice, which puts to who requires the immediate attention of a flight the Roman legions, and dismisses the faithful and devoted nurse. The book is Carthaginian queen to weep away her closed. The quiet hours of reading, and wrongs unpitied and alone. Suppose a study, are exchanged for the wearisome woman admitted within the laboratory of a day, the watchful night, the soothing of chymist, and listeningwith the mute attention fretfulness, and the ministration of comfort of a devotee to his learned dissertations and kind offices; while the heroes of ancient upon his favourite science, when, behold, Greece are forgotten, and the Caesars and her watchful eye is fixed upon the care-worn the Ptolemies are indiscriminately consigned brow and haggard cheek of the philosopher, to an ignominious tomb. and she longs to lead him away from his It is owing to circumstances such as these, deleterious drugs and essences, into the daily and even hourly occurring, that women green fields, or home to the quiet comforts are disqualified for great literary attainof her own fire-side, where she would rather ments; and every impartial judge will cherish his old age with warm clothing and freely acknowledge that it is not her want generous diet, than ponder upon the scien- of capacity to understand the fundamental tific truths he has been labouring to instil truths of science and philosophy; but her into her mind. Suppose another studying utter inability from circumstance and situathe course of the stars, when by one of those tion, diligently to pursue the investigation involuntary impulses by which thoughts are of such truths, and when clearly ascertained, let into the mind we know not how, the form to store up and apply them to the higl:est of her departed friend rushes back upon her intellectual purposes, which constitutes the memory, and suddenly, beneath that hea- difference between the mental faculties of venly host, whose sublimity her rapt soul woman and those of a nobler sex. had been almost adoring, she stands alone, Nor let the pedant call this a defect in woa weak and trembling woman; and asks no man's nature; that alone can be a Sefect by more of the glistening stars, than some faint which anything is hindered from answeimng revelaticn of her earthly destiny-some the purpose for which it was designed. S~~~~~~.... 114 THE POETRY OF LIFE. Man is appointed to hold the reins of gov- in the seraphic ardour of its love, its faith, ernment, to make laws, to support systems, and its devotion. to penetrate with patient labour and unde- The same causes which operate against viatingf perseverance into the mysteries of the intellectual attainments of woman, unfit science and to work out the great funda- her for arbitrary rule. Queen Elizabeth, ment;ll principles of truth. For such pur- one of the most distinguished of female soveposes he would be ill qualified, were he reigns, was womanly in nothing but her liable to be diverted from his object by the vanity and artifice. She was ready at any quickness of his perception of external things, time to sacrifice her lover to her love of pow-. by the ungovernable impulse of his own er; and those affairs, said to be of the heart, feelings, or by the claims of others upon his which rendered her despicable in old age, regard or sensibility; but woman's sphere were nothing better than flirtations founded being one of feeling rather than of intellect, upon personal adulation, selfishness, and all her peculiar characteristics are such as caprice. But deficient in the nobler characessentially qualify her fobr that station in so- teristics of generous feeling, in enthusiasm, ciety which she is designed to fill, and which and devotedness, she was the better qualified she never voluntarily quits without a sacrifice to maintain her regal dignity, and to pursue of good taste-I might almost say, of good those deep-laid schemes of policy and ambiprinciple. Weak indeed is the reasoning of tion which raised her to a level with the those who would render her dissatisfied with greatest potentates of Europe; while her this allotment, by persuading her that the ill-starred rival, Mary of Scotland, a " very, station, which it ought to be her pride to or- very woman!" who, with the richest ennament, is one too insignificant or degraded dowments of head and heart, might, as a for the full exercise of her mental powers. wife, have proved a blessing to any man who Can that be an unimportant vocation to had the good feeling to appreciate her which peculiarly belong the means of happi- worth, raised to the throne, became the bane I ness and misery? Can that be a degraded of her empire; and as a queen, was eventusphere which not only admits of, but re- ally the most unfortunate that ever let in quires the full developement of moral feel- misrule and rebellion upon her state, or ing? Is it a task too trifling for an intellect- brought down disgrace and destruction upual woman, to watch, and guard, and stimu- on herself. late the growth of reason in the infant It is only in her proper and natural sphere, mind? Is it a sacrifice too small to practice that woman is poetical. Self-supported, as the art of adaptation to all the different char- a sovereign or a sage, she wants all her acters met with in ordinary life, so as to in- loveliest attributes. That which stands fluence, and give a right direction to their alone, firmly, and without support, can never tastes and pursuits? Is it a duty too easy, supply the mind with so many interesting faithfully and constantly to hold up an ex- and poetical associations, as that which has ample of self-government, disinterestedness, a relative existence and is linked in with the and zeal for that which constitutes our high- chain of creation by the sympathies or necesest good-to be nothing, or anything that is sities of its own nature. A single barren not evil, as the necessities of others may re- hill, in the midst of a desert, without sunquire-to wait with patience-to endure shine, without shade, without verdure, or with fortitude-to attract by gentleness-to, any perceptible variety in its surface, would soothe by sympathy judiciously applied-to afford little to interest the feelings of the be quick in understanding, prompt in action, poet. It might serve as a landmark to the and, what is perhaps more difficult than all, bewildered traveller; but without the light pliable yet firm in will-lastly, through a life of the sun, or the shadow of intervening of perplexity, trial, and temptation, to main- clouds upon its summit, without the gartain the calm dignity of a pure and elevated ment of verdure, or the varieties of beetling character, earthly in nothing but its suffering rock, and precipice, and deep ravine around i and weakness; refined almost to sublimity its sloping sides; and above all, without its THE POETRY OF WOMAN. 115 "mighty shadow in a weary land," it could many slender twigs and tendrils, that the not be an object upon which the eye would main stem is weakened, and the whole plant linger with delight, or the excursive faculty unable to raise itselffrom the earth, continues of imagination find food and exercise. The to bud and blossom, and send forth innuIghtest bird that plumes its wing upon the merable shoots which altogether form a leafy bough, or, "tuning its native wood beautiful group of flowers and verdure, but notes wild," soars up to the clear expanse nothing more; while the imagination of of heaven's ethereal blue; the frailest plant man resembles a stately tree, whose firm twining its parasitical arms around the sup- and continuous stem, exactly proportioned porting stem, lavishing its prodigal sweets to the support and nourishment of the nuupon the morning air, or scattering its faded merous branches in their subordinate place leaves upon the gales of the wilderness; completes the majesty, the utility, and the the faintest cloud that sails before the face beauty of the whole. The imagination of of the moon, basking for a moment in her woman is sufficiently vivid and excursive to vestal smile, wearing her silver livery, and take in the widest range of poetical sublimity, then wreathing her forehead in fantastic but unfortunately it meets with so many infolds of mist and vapour before it floats terruptions in that range, and deviates so away, formless, and void, into the dark often from its proper object to waste itself abyss of unfathomable night, are objects in upon others of minor importance, that it selthemselves, in their attributes, relations, dom attains any laudable end, or accomand associations, infinitely more poetical plishes any lasting purpose. than the single mountain: and it is precisely It is impossible for those who have merely upon the same principle, that woman with studied the nature of woman's mind, to comher boundless sympathies, her weakness, prehend the rapidity of her thoughts, and her frailty, her quick perceptions, her inex- the versatility of her feelings. Touch but haustible energies, in all that constitutes one sensitive chord, and her imagination the very essence of her character, is more takes flight upon the wings of the butterfly poetical than man. over the garden of earth, up into mid air, Yet notwithstanding all this, in the art beyond the lark, that sweetest intelligencer of writing poetry, women prove themselves of sublunary joy, higher, still higher, decidedly inferior to the other sex; for the through illimitable space, ascending to the same causes which retard their progress in regions of peace and glory, and passing the ihore laborious walks of science, are through the everlasting gates into the comequally forcible here. Beyond a very limited munion of saints, and blessed spirits, whose extent woman is incapable of concentrated, feet "sandalled with immortality," trace the fixed, and persevering attention. We have green margin of the river of eternal life. many instances that she can, as it were out Would that the imagination of woman of the momentary fulness of her own heart, had always this upward tendency, but, " discourse most eloquent music," but she is alas! it is not satisfied even with the fruiunequal to any of those lasting productions tion of happiness; it cannot rest even in the of poetic genius, which continue from age to bosom of repose; it is not sufficiently reage to delight the world. I am unwilling freshed, even by that stream whose waters however even in this instance to attribute to make glad the celestial city. The light of her mental inferiority, what appears to me some loved countenance perchance is wantas more probably owing to the uncontrolled ing there, and the spirit, late soaring on deinfluence of her imagination, the faculty lighted wing, now plunges downward most essential to the poet, which women amongst the grosser elements of earth, possess in so great a degree, that its very while lured on by the irresistible power of exuberance of growth prevents the ripening sympathy, it chooses rather to follow the of those rich fruits of which its profusion of erring or the lost through all the mazy early blossom gives deceitful promise. The windings of sin and sorrow, than to rise imagination of woman may be compared to companionless to glory. a quick growing plant, which shoots out so With such an imagination, startled, ex 116 THE POETRY OF LIFE. cited, and diverted from its object, not only tain her purpose she can only win; and in by every sight or sound in earth or air, but order to win, she must in some nieasure by every impulse of the affections and the adapt herself to the feelings of those who will, it is impossible that woman in her in- hold the object of her wishes in their keeptellectual attainments should ever equal man, ing. But for one instance in which this is nor is it necessary for her usefulness, her done to serve a selfish purpose, we might happiness, or the perfection of her charac- count a thousand where it is done for pure ter, that she should. As she is circum- sympathy and love, and tens of thousands stanced in the world, it is one of her great- where she submits to the disappointment of est charms, that she is willing to trust rather her dearest hopes, without attempting, even than anxious to investigate. While she in this humble manner, to obtain what she does this she will be feminine, and while she desires. is feminine she must be poetical. Women can not only adapt themselves to The power of adaptation is another qua- the habits and peculiarities of others, but lity, which, next to imagination, is strikingly they can actuallyfeel with them —enter into conspicuous in woman, and without which their very being and penetrate the deep reshe would lose half her loveliness, and half cesses of their souls. Thus they are no less her value. There is no possible event in interesting in themselves, than really interesthuman life which she is unable, not only to ed in what they hear and see. In society they understand, but to understand feelingly; have the character of being diligent talkers, and no imaginable character, except the but are they not good listeners also? And gross or the vile, with which she cannot im- where they do got actually listen, they can mediately identify herself. pretend to do so, which answers the purpose It is considered a mere duty, too common of the speaker just as well. A truly agreefor observation, and too necessary for able woman knows how to give a quick and praise, when a woman forgets her own sor- delicate turn to conversation, so as to avoid rows to smile with the gay, or lays aside an unpleasant dilemma or produce a pleasher own secret joys to weep with the sad. ing effect; she knows how, and to whom, But let lordly man make the experiment fobr to address her good things, and never wastes one half hour, and he will then be better ac- them upon the wrong person; she discovers quainted with this system of self-sacrifice, the secret bias of the character, and bends which woman in every station of society, the same way, or opposes so gently, that from the palace to the cottage, maintains resistance becomes an agreeable amusethrough the whole of her life, with little ment; she reads the eye, and discourses commendation, and with no reward, except eloquently in the language' of the heart; that which is attached to every effort of dis- and she allows herself caprice enough to interested virtue. It is thought much of, ruffle the monotony of life, but not sufficient and blazoned forth to the world, when the to create tumult or confusion. Without victim at the stake betrays no sign of pain; diving so deep as to be lost, she glides over but does it evince less fortitude for the vic- the surface of things and makes herself actim of corroding care to give no outward quainted with their nature, and their imporevidence of the anguish of a writhing soul? tance in the aggregate of life. She can -to go forth arrayed in smiles, when burn- enter into the different elements of huing ashes are upon the heart?-to meet, as man nature, and assuming every variety of a woman can meet, with a never-failing form of which it is capable, can enduro welcome the very cause of all her suffering? every change of time, and place, and eir— and to woo back with the sweetness of cumstance, and, what is most wonderful, her unchangeable love, him who knows retain her own identity In each. Al this neither constancy nor truth? she can do with little of the " borrowed aid It is unquestionably the exercise of this of ornament." The charm is within herself, faculty of adaptatimn, which attaches to wo- and like the great enchantress of the Nile, man's character the stigma of artifice. She she imparts't to everything around her. haa no power to command, therefore to at- For want of the power which is in nature,. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ THE POETRY OF WOMAN. 117; our writers o0 romance are compelled to not permitted to lift us occasionally above make all their heroines beautiful —to place the grossness and heaviness of life. Without them upon thrones, or beds of violets-to this mysterious power to create food for its spangle them over with pearls, and blanche own felicity, the mind of woman would sink them to the whiteness of snow-to wreath beneath its burdens, and instead of a brights them with roses, and scatter flowers beneath vivacious being, ever the first to welcome their feet-to endow them with all languages, sunshine-the last to yield to gloom, woman and all gifts of music and eloquence, pour- would be alike wearisome as a companion, ing forth the wisdom of the sage from the feeble as a helpmate, and impotent as a lips of the cherub. But it is not so in com- comforter. All this would be absurd too, if mon life; there is a witchery in nature the sphere of woman were the same as that which it is impossible for art to attain, and a of man; but as a woman I am well contruly charming woman clad in russet weeds, vinced that those peculiarities for which she may darn her husband's stockings and be is too frequently ridiculea and despised, charming still. arise either from the excess or the abuse of Yet after all, it is not by the examination natural qualities, which under proper disciof any particular talent, faculty, or endow- pline, might have been made conducive to ment, that we become acquainted with the her own, and other's happiness. true poetry of woman's character; for such The want of stability, consistency and is her liability to be affected by every change depth, is perceptible only in woman's intelof circumstance, and such her capacity for lectual pursuits. In all that belongs to her receiving pain and pleasure, that we must affections, and her social. duties, she is always speak of her in reference to her faithful, sincere, and firm. It is true, she is state of feeling, rather than her capability called fickle, but as has been remarked by of mind. Her thoughts for the most part, an amiable and talented writer, " her inconare combinations of indistinct ideas, which sistency is of the head rather than of the flow together in a tide too rapid, too impetu- heart."* Believing what she hopes, she ous, and too generally directed by her affec- takes her friends upon trust, and loving tions, to admit of the strict government of rashly, must necessarily be often deceived; right reason. She beholds not only the but it does not follow that if the object of present and thepalpable, but the contrast, and her affection could retain the character with the similitude of everything around her. The which her own fancy invested it, she would past and the future are spread before her not still love with the same constancy, and like pictures, whose colouring varies with " love for ever." the tone and temper of her own mind. In From the varied and fluctuating nature one moment, the vivid glow of happiness is of woman's feelings, as well as from their diffused over the scene, and in the next, the power, their expansion, and their depth, it is sombre shadow of despair. Exulting in the impossible to say individually what she is, acquisition of some unexpected joy, what a or what she might be, because the ordinary glad free spirit is that of woman, soaring routine of life, particularly of polished 1t'e without bound or limitation, far beyond the admits of little development of the passions reach of fear, and spurning at the appre- and affections. It is only in cases of trial hension of future pain-under the pressure that she proves herself, and therefore all of affliction, how sad, how low, how utterly writers who have drawn from nature, in cast down! Bursting forth upon the wings attempting to delineate the character of l of hope, the soul of woman knows no ia- woman, have done it by a few impressive pediment. Impossibility is no barrier to its strokes, rather than by general description. course. It sees tha, which is without form, Amongst numerous instances of this kind hears voices in the depth of silence, and lays abounding in the works of Shakspeare, I hold of things which have no tangible exis- shall point out one which bears most striktence. All this may be called absurd, and so it Mrs. Sandford, author of "Woman in her Social and would be, if the allusions of the mind were Domestic Character." I!_.....,A..........,,x....,,.M,.. 118 THE POETRY OF LIFE. ingly the impress of a master hand. It is reproaches her for not remembering that the last speech of Desdemona in the horrible there is now " but one place in the world.'scene of her murder. Z]milia, her attend- Lord Byron has in many instances proved ant, hears her dying voice, and, beginning both his talent and his taste, by giving us to suspect there has been foul play, ex- the true poetry of woman's character in a claims, few touching words. I shall select one ret, who hath done markable for its simplicity and pathos. It "0Thiso haeh done occurs in Cain, after the perpetration of the first murder, where the fratricide has re"Nobody; I myself; farewell: Commend me to my kind lord; 0, farewell!" ceived the malediction of one parent, and been driven out by the other. Adah, whose is answered by the wretched victim. Who character is beautifully and justly drawn can read these lines without acknowledging throughout, remains with himafter the others the writer's profound and intimate acquaint- have departed, and addresses him in these ance with the heart of woman? First, Des- words: demona answers " Nobody," from the impulse ADAH. of a sudden desire to clear her husband of a sudden desire to clear her husband " Cain! thou hast heard we must go forth. I am ready, from suspicion; but immediately recollecting So shall our children be. I will bear Enoch, that this will not be sufficient, she adds, " I And thou his sister. Ere the sun declines 7yself;" and then to complete the whole- Let us depart, nor walk the wilderness myself;"d andthen to complete the whole- - Under the cloud of night,-Nay, speak to me, to give the climax to her faithfulness and To me-thine own. devotion, she continues, "Commend me to CAIN. my kind lord"-to that very lord whose Leave me! hand was just unloosed from its fatal hold, and who stood beside her neither penitent ADAH. nor triumphant, but literally stupified with " hy all have left thee. the magnitude -and the horror of the deed CAIN. which yet he had not the power to behold "And wherefore lingerest thou X Dcst thou not fear as a crime. To dwell with one who fiath done this? Another instance of a gentler and more ADAH. pleasing character, occurs in Wallenstein, "I Ifear as translated by Coleridge, where the prin- Nothing except to leave thee, much as 1 Shrink from the deed which leaves thee brotherless. cess, after thie death of Max, claims the I must not speak of this, it is between thee tenderest office of friendship from her faith- And the great God." ful companion. There can be no stronger bond to a firm THEKLA. and faithful woman, than that "all have left" "Now gentle Newbrun, show me the affection the object of her love. Adah feels this, and Which thou has ever promised; prove thyself' offers no other reason. Besides which she My own true friend and fellow-pilgrim. utters no reproach; enough has already This night we must away. been said, and like a pure spirit descending NEWERUN. upon earth for purposes of love and mercy, "Away! and whither? she stoops with her husband beneath his THEKLA. degradation, and though confessed y sn:.nK". Whither lThere*isbut ne lace intheworld. ing from the fatal deed, meekly and reveren"Whither! There is but one place in the world. Thither where he lies buried!" tially places it solely between him " and the great God." In these few words we see the magnitude In order to define with greater precision of woman's love, and the absorbing nature of what it is that constitutes.he poetry of woher grief. Herself and the whole universe man's character, we must enter yet more sink into nothing in comparison with that closely into her individual feelings, and for single point of space. She is surprised that this purpose it is necessary to trace her exher friend should ask "whither," and almost perience through the different stages of ex THE POETRY OF WOMAN. 119 istence, in which we behold her as a girl, Time passes, and the impulse of affection a maiden, a wife, a mother, and an old wo- mingles with the dawn of reason. Her inman. tellects are limited to the regular rc atine of It is difficult to say which is least impor- education, while her passions are left free: tait in the scale of human beings-a little girl and thus her feelings become matured, while or an old woman; but certainly the former in- her talents remain in the bondage of infanspires us with a kind of tenderness, which is cy. If the page of history is held up before rarely, too rarely, bestowed upon the latter. her, she sees it not as it is, but in the vivid So long as the sphere of her childish enjoy- colouring of her own imagination. She will ments is unassailed by affliction, especially not learn the truth, because it accords not by that heaviest of all domestic calamities, with her aspiring hopes, and ardent wishes, the loss of' a kind and judicious mother, the which have already taken precedence of her existence of a young girl is happy as it is knowledge. She cannot listen to the lore of innocent. With her, day after day dances past ages, because she is busy combating on in the perpetual sunshine of domestic present disappointments, and just beginning love, and night only comes to remind her of to feel that her efforts are in vain; for the the shelter of the maternal wing. Directed voice of experience, louder that that of inby the impulse of her feelings towards those struction, rises above the light carolling of duties which are to be her portion in after joy, and will be heard. Her buoyant spirit life, she tends her flowers, cherishes her pet repelled, as easily as it is attracted, mounts lamb, or nurses the wounded bird; and true in exultation, or sinks in despair, and occuto the dictates of nature, devotes her feeble pies with its alternations of pain and pleasure, strength, her earnest thoughts, and her ar- those hours which ought to be devoted to dent wishes to the happiness of others. If the cultivation of the intellectual powers. from the mal-administration of domestic dis- Thrown by her natural dependence upon the cipline she should become selfish, her sole esteem and affection of those around her, gratification continues to be derived from weman learns to regard the smile of approsurrounding things, and she never seeks it bation as the charmed spell by which the in the centre of her own bcsom, but remains gates of happiness are opened; and to look dependent still. It may be, that she is some- for the frown of contempt as the signal of her times unreasonable in requiring more than darkest doom. Trembling between these she bestows, but the perfect abandonment two extremes, there can be no wonder that with which she throws herself upon the good she should study every means to attain the will and generosity of others, ought at least one, and avoid the other: and this is what to claim their protection, if it fails to ensure the world calls vanity; while it is in fact an their esteem. ardent, and in some measure a laudable deBut let us suppose any of the dark visita- sire to do, and to be, that which is most tions of sin and sorrow to fall upon the do- agreeable to others, purely because it is mestic scene. It is then that the rosy girl is gratifying, not to herself' but to them; and called in from her play, to watch and wait, an involuntary shrinking from all which can to bear the harsh rebuke, to know the inno- repel, disgust, or in any way offend, because cent wish denied, to sympathize with the un- to be the source of dissatisfaction, to give told grief, to cultivate a premature acquaint- pain, or to excite uneasiness, is most abhorance with the outward signs of inward wo, rent to the natural delicacy and generosity and to feel what it is to have the cherub of her own mind. wingsofchildhood burdened with the cares of It is on the verge of womanhood that we.age. Perhaps the maternalvoice is hushed, see the female character in its greatest vaand the hand that used to smooth her riety and beauty; while the rich colouring nightly pillow cold in the grave. Who then of fresh-born fancy, the warm gush of genis left to pity the little mourner, as silently, uine feeling, and the high aspirations of and unobserved, she passes on through life, ambitious youth, are yet unsuodued[ by- the seeking for what the whole world is too poor tyranny of custom, or forced back into the to bestow-a second mother? bursting heart by the cold hand of expe_______ 120 THE POETRY OF LIFE. rience. Woman, fresh as it were from the them, and therefore they can no longer reli garden of Eden, while the loveliness of her pay us for the expenditure of time, and first creation is still lingering around her, thought, and affection, which in their origiblended with the melancholy symbols of her nal ardour they required. We have other fall, in her character and attributes, her objects in pursuit, different aims, and hopes, beauty, her tenderness, and her liability to and wishes. We have become more condanger and suffering, is all that the poet can centrated in our feelings, and therefore have desire to inspire his happiest lays.' less disposition to give out the love that once It is in this stage of her existence, while flowed in a tide too rapid and impetuous to love, her most insidious enemy, folding his be restrained. But let us pause, and ask, rosy wings, lies shrouded at the bottom of have we found anything to compare in the her heart, ready to rush forth on his impe- genuine and heartfelt happiness it affords, tuous flight towards the highest point of with the social hours of unguarded confihappiness, or the lowest depth of wo, that dence-the truth-the tears-the affections woman lays hold of friendship as her great- which belonged to the friendships of our est solace and support. Her mind is agi- early youth? tated with a world of indefinite thoughts I am far frQm from asserting that we may and feelings which she is unable to commu- not have friends-true and zealous friends nicate, because she does not understand -friends who would protect our reputation them. While they are confined within her as their own, through every stage of life; own bosom, she feels like one burdened with but they are for the most part such, as havan immense and incalculable load, and ing lost their enthusiasm, are become keenly therefore, she seeks the society of those, observant of our faults, and strict to correct whose sympathy, arising from a similarity them, rather than tender and faithful confiof feeling, supplies the want of a common ders in our virtue: such as, wearied with medium of communication. Ardently de- our peculiarities, vainly endeavour to make siring to find in her friend all those qualities us submit to the common rule, and finding which she most admires, and prone by na- their endeavours ineffectual, grown nigture to believe whatever she desires, she gardly in their charitable allowance for our pauses not to enquire whether the choice deviations; not such as looked kindly on our she makes is not rather the result of her foibles, because they made a part of us, and own necessities, than a tribute justly paid to felt if we were better,' that they could not virtue; and thus the two friends similarly love us more: such as freely enter into our circumstanced, and mutually in need of each views and feelings, when in full accordance other, trust most implicitlyto the strength and with their own established notions of what is durability of their attachment: and happy is it praiseworthy and prudent; not such as are for those to whom experience does not teach the last to step forward and tell us we have the emptiness of what the world calls friend- been in error, purely because they would be ship.. I do not say the worthlessness, because the last to give us pain. Such friends as that cannot be worthless, which supplies us these we should do wisely to keep along with enjoyment for the present, and wisdom with us even to the end of life-they are in for the future. fact the only true friends, because they are Nor let the world be quarrelled with be- true to our best interests: but, oh! they are cause its friendships do not always last. not like the friends who loved us in our Formed out of the warm feelings of youth- early youth! * feelings which it would be impossible to To return to woman in her girlish days. carry on with us through life, it is but rea- How beautifully has our own fair poetess, i sonable that we should lose our friendships whose lays, mournful as they are musical,.as we journey onwards, or that retaining remind us of the fabled melody of the dying them, their character and mode of exhibition swan, described the particular yearning of should be wholly changed; because we the heart with which the experienced obcease in some measure to feel the want of server regards the tender years of woman. THE POETRY OF WOMAN. 121 "Her lot is on you-silent tears to weep, awake so there comes to almost all women And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour a time when their eyes are opened to the And sumless riches, from affection's deep, a time when their eyes are opened to the To pour on broken reeds-a wasted shower! truth-when their beauty charms not, and And to make idols, and to find them clay, their step is heard without a welcomeAnd to bewail that worship-therefore'pray when they tune the harp without an auwhen they tune the harp without an au"ier lot is on you!-to be found untir'd, dience and speak unanswered-when Watching the stars out by the bed of pain, With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspir'd smile without imparting happiness, and With a true heart of hope, though hope be vain! frown without exciting alarm-when others Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay, step forward to receive the adulation once And, Oh! to love through all things-therefore pray d" offered to them, while they are thrust down Trace her experience to the next stage of from their imaginary thrones, by the very her existence, and woman is more poetical hands which supported them in their ascent. still; because so long as her youth and Compelled to descend, though sometimes beauty inspire admiration-so long as there gradually, from the state of ideal exaltation is any thing to be gained by her favour, she to which she has been raised, womanis subjected to the deceitful flatteries of weak woman, catches at every slender hold man, whom she is naturally desirous to that may break her fall. To the last voice please, not only as her superior, guide, and that speaks flatteringly, she listens with an friend, but as he holds the reins of govern- avidity which subjects her to the ridicule of ment, and can therefore deprive her of all the world; while to the last kind hand that or most of her pleasures. As a girl, she is held out to her, she clings with a despalrwas deceived only by her own heart, she is ing energy, an ardent gratitude, which pernow deceived by the general aspect of so- mit her not to perceive its unworthiness. ciety. Way is made for her to walk forth Hence follow the absurdities for which she as a queen, and when suppliants bow before is more blamed than pitied, and'the rash her, no wonder that they should assume the sacrifice of herself, for which she meets dignity of one, and learn to love the scep- with little mercy from the world. But the tre placed for a moment of mockery in her censor of woman should be a woman herfeeble hand. Trusting and sincere herself, self, to know what it is to have lived in that she dreams not of falsehood, and when told vortex of falsehood, flattery, and dissipation, that she is beautiful, she looks in the mirror which surrounds a young and beautiful feand believes it true. Finding that beauty male; and then to pass away into the sullen is the only sure title to the admiration of calm of neglect-to have basked in the that sex, which it is her wish and her inter- warm and genial atmosphere of real or preest to please, she values her personal tended affection; and then to " bide the charms as her richest dower; and if she pelting of the pitiless storm," with which smiles not from the fullness of a glad heart, envy never fails to assail her whose capabut because smiles are lovely, frowns to pro- bility of loving has outlived her charms-to duce effect, or sighs to excite a momentary have listened to the voice of adulation, interest, it is because she has learned in her breathing her praises like a perpetual conintercourse with society that she must be cert all around her; and then to hear nopersonally lovely to be beloved,' and person- thing but the cold dull language of truth, ally interesting to avoid contempt. exaggerated into harshness, or sharpened When we think of the falsehood practised into reproof-to have lived a charmed life, towards women, at that season of life when under the fascination of man's love, in the their minds are most capable of receiving very centre of all that constitutes ideal happiimpressions, and when their intellectual ness, ministered to on every hand, and feedpowers, just arriving at maturity, are most ing, like the butterfly, upon the flowers of liable to serious dnaimportant bias, we can life, without a wish ungratified, a thought only wonder that tiere should be any sub- untold, or a tear unpitied; and then upon stantial virtue found amongst thenL But as the world's bleak desert to stand alone! I there is a time to sleep, and a time to repeat, that the censor of woman should be 122 ~ THE POETRY OF LIFE. a woman herself-a woman who has been sonal information, by the unanimous opinion admired, and then neglected. of society, that the more entirely she lays We have here spoken only of women aside such peculiarities of character, the whose personal charms recommend them to more she will be respected and valued. Nor general admiration, because it is of these is this all. She has perhaps a stronger alone that the poet delights to sing; yet corrective within her own household. Her such is the influence of personal admiration husband begins to see with the eyes of the in checking the growth of moral and intel- world. His vision no longer dazzled by her lectual beauty, and engendering selfishness beauty, or his judgment cheated oy her and vanity, that we are inclined to believe caresses, he involuntarily, and often without the deep pathos of the feminine heart is to sufficient delicacy, points out faults which be found in the greatest perfection concealed he neither saw, nor believed her capable of behind the countenance that has seldom at- possessing before. "Why did I marry?" tracted the public gaze. It is in such hearts, is the question which every woman, not whose best offerings are rarely estimated previously disciplined, asks of herself under according to their real value, that disinter- such circumstances, " why did I marry, if ested affection, in all its natural warmth, not to be loved and cherished as I was in lives and burns for the benefit of the suffer- my father's house?" Such are her words, ing or the beloved; that enthusiasm and for she has not yet learned to understand zeal, tempered down by humility, are ever her own heart; but she means in fact, " why ready for the performance of the arduous did I marry, if not to be flattered and adduties of life; and that ambition, if it exists mired as in the days of courtship, when the at all, is directed to the attainment and dif- competition for my favour excited unremitfusion of more lasting happiness than mere ting assiduity in all who sought to win it, beauty can afford. and who, because they knew my vanity and In the capacity of a wife we next observe weakness, sought to win it by these means the character of woman, and it is here, if alone?" The answer is an obvious oneever, that she learns the truth-learns what because it is not good for us to go deluded is in her own heart, and what are her duties to our graves, and therefbre merciful means to herself and others. Not that she learns have been designed, as various as approall this through the gentle instrumentality priate to compel us to open our reluctant of affection, but by the moral process of ex- eyes upon the truth; and woman as a wife, perience, which if less congenial to her taste, does open her eyes at last, from the dream is more forcible in its convictions, and more in which her senses have been lulled, while lasting in its effects. In assuming this new with the tide of conviction, as it rushes in title, woman is generally removed to a new, upon hernewly-awakened mind, come serious and often to a distant sphere, where she has thoughts, and earnest calculations, and to take her stand in society upon common deeper anxieties; with higher hopes, and ground. None within the circle to which nobler aims, and better regulated affections she is at once admitted, know precisely to counterbalance them. what she has been, and therefore every eye As a mother we next behold woman in is open to see what she is. All the little her holiest character-as the nurse of innocaprices, and peculiarities, nurtured up cence-as the cherisher of the first principles with her bodily growth in the bosom of her of mind-as the guardian of an immortal cwn family, not only forgiven there, but in- being who will write upon the records of dulged from the fond consideration that " it eternity how faithfully she has fulfilled her wa ys always her way," or, "that she was trust. And let it be observed that, in asalways thus," now stand forth for the full suming this new and important office, she discussion, and impartial inspection of the does not necessarily lose any of the charms many, who, seeing no just reason why such which have beautified her character before. should have been her way, and no plausible She can still be tender, lovely, delicate, repretext for her being always thus, soon con- fined, and cheerful, as when a girl; devoted trive means to convince her, if not by per- to the happiness of those around her, affec THE POETRY OF WOMAN. 123 tionate, judicious, dignified, and intellectual the perverse? Who would be found to fulas when a wife only; while this new love, fil the hard duties of serving the ungrateful, deep as the very wells of life, mingles with ministering to the dissatisfied, and watching the current of her thoughts and feelings, over the hopeless? No. There is no ingiving warmth and intensity to all, without stance in which the providential care of our impairing the force or the purity of any. heavenly Father is more beautifully exhiYet while her attributes remain the same, bited than in that of a mother's love. Windher being is absorbed in the existence of her ing its silken cords alike around every nachild. Now more than ever she forgets tural object, whether worthy or unworthy, herself, deeming nothing impossible which it creates a bond which unkindness cannot has reference to her own devotedness, and break. It pursues the wanderer without its good-computing neither time, nor space, weariness, and supports the feeble without nor capability in the single consideration of fainting. Neither appalled by danger, nor its happiness-regarding neither labour, hindered by difficulty, it can labour without watching, nor weariness, as worthy of a reward, and persevere without hope. "Many thought in comparison with its lightest waters cannot quench" it; and when the slumber, or its minutest pain. glory has vanished from the brow of the If the love of a mother be considered as beloved one, when summer friends have an instinct which pervades all animated na- turned away, and guilt, and misery, and ture, it is not the less beautiful when exhi- disgrace have usurped their place, it steals bited in the human character, for being dif- into the soul of the outcast like the sunbeams fused throughout creation; because it proves within the cell of the prisoner, lighting the that the Author of our being, knew that the darker dungeon of the polluted heart, bringdistinctive attributes of humanity would be ing along with it fond recollections of past insufficient to support the mother through her happiness, and wooing back to fresh partianxieties, vexations and cares. He knew cipation in the light and the gladness that that reason would be making distinctions still remain for the broken and contrite between the worthy and the unworthy, and spirit. prematurely consigning the supposed repro- If the situation of a wife brings woman to bate to ruin; that fancy would make selec- a right understanding of her own character, tions, and dote upon one while it neglected that of a mother leads to a strict knowledge another; that caprice would destroy the of her own principles. Scarcely is any one bond of domestic union; and that intellec- so depraved as to teach her child what she tual pursuits would often take precedence conscientiously believes to be wrong. And of domestic duties. And therefore he pour- yet teach it she must, for its "clear pure ed into woman's heart the same instinct eyes" are fixed upon hers to learn their which impels the timid bird to risk the last meaning, and its infant accents are inquirextremity of danger for her helpless young. ing out the first principles of good and evil. Nor let any one think contemptuously of How, with such a picture before her, would this peculiar capability of loving, because any woman dare to teach what she did not under the extinct it is shared with the brute. implicitly, as well as rationally, and from It is not a sufficient recommendation to our mature examination believe to be true. In respect that it comes immediately from the a few days-hours-nay, moments, that hand of our Creator-that we have no child may be a cherub in the courts of Heapower to control or subdue it-that it is ven. What if a stain should have been "Strong as death"-and lastly, that it im- upon its wings, and that stain the impress bues the mind of the mother with equal ten- of a mother's hand! or if its earthly life derness for her infirm, or wayward, or un- should be prolonged, it is the foundation of lovely child, as for him who gives early the important future that the mother lays. promise of personal as well as mental Other governors in after years may take beauty? But for this wonderful provision upon themselves the tuition of her child, in human nat ure, what would become of and lead him through the paths of academic the cripple, the diseased, the petulant or lore, but the early bias-the bent of the 124 THE POETRY OF LIFE. moral character-the first principles of spi- must find as he gains experience, a perfect ritual life, will be hers, and hers the lasting accordance between the principles of virtue glory or the lasting shame. and the instruction he first heard from his There is no scene throughout the whole mother's lips, as well as the rules by which range of our observation, more strikingly her own conduct is regulated. It is this reillustrative of intellectual, moral, and even spect mingled with natural affection, that physical beauty than that presented by a constitutes the strongest and most durable domestic circle, where a mother holds her bond which is woven in with the life-strings proper place, as the source of' tenderness, of the heart; that draws back the wanderer the centre of affection, the bond of social to his home; and is the last, the very last, union, the founder of each salutary plan, which the reprobate casts off. the umpire in all contention, and the general In turning from the contemplation of a fountain of cheerfulness, hope, and consola- mother in the midst of her family, to that of' tion. It is to clear up the unjust suspicion a mere old woman, we make a melancholy that such a mother steps forward; to ward descent from important usefulness to negoff the unmerited blow; to defend the lected imbecility. Perhaps we have been wounded spirit from the injury to which it dwelling too much upon what ought to be, would sullenly' submit; to encourage the but the bare mention of an old woman brings hopeless, when thrown back in the competi- us down at once to what is. To inquire tion of talent; to point out to those who why it should be thus, belongs more to the have been defeated, other aims in which writer on morals than on poetry; yet so it is they may yet succeed; to stand between -that woman who has been cherished in the timid and the danger they dread; and, her infancy and flattered in her youth, who on behalf of each, and all, to make their has been exalted to the most honourable peace with offended authority, promising, station which her sex can fill, and who has hoping, and believing, that they will never spent the meridian of her life in toils and willingly commit the same fault again. anxieties for the good of others, becomes in Even amongst her boys, those wayward old age, a mere proverb, and a by-word —a libertines of nature's commonwealth, the warning to the young and the gay of what mother may, if she acts judiciously, be both they must expect-a similitude for all that is valuable and dear; for wild and impetuous feeble and contemptible-an evidence of the as they are when they first burst forth from destructive power of time-a living emblem the restraints of childhood, and rush on re- of decay. gardless of' every impediment and whole- It is true the mother is a mother still, and some check, as if to attain in the shortest greatly is it to be feared, that where she space of time, the greatest possible distance sinks into a state of total neglect, it is from from dependence and puerility, they are apt the absence of all feeling of respect in the to meet with crosses and disappointments minds of her children; nor are there wantwhich plunge them suddenly back into the ing instances to prove this fact-instances in weakness they have been struggling to over- which the want of youthful beauty has been come, or rather to conceal; and it is then more than supplied by the loveliness of a that a mother's love supplies the balm which mind at peace with all the world, and with their wounded feelings want, and provided its God; where the weakness of old age has they can mingle respect with their affection been dignified by the services of a well-spent they are not ashamed to acknowldege their life: and where the wants and wishes of lependence upon it still. second childhood have been soothed by afIt may here be observed how much de- fection, whose vital principle is gratitude, pends upon the word respect. When the boy and whose foundation is esteem. But we, respects his mother, she is associated with speak of the world, and the things of the his highest aspirations, and therefore he has world as we find them, and we find old wopride as well as pleasure in her love. But men so frequently neglected and despised, he will not respect her merely because she that it becomes a duty, as well as a pleahas nursed him when an infant. No. He sure, to show, that though bereft of every THE POETRY OF WOMAN. 125 other charm, they may still be poetical-po- whose higher intellectual attainments she etical in their recollections, beyond what hu- has made every sacrifice, and exerted every man nature can be in any other state or faculty. And what if she be unlearned in stage of its existence. the literature of modern times, she underIt is an unkind propensity that many stands deeply and feelingly the springs of writers have, to make old women poetical affection, and tenderness and sorrow. She through the instrumentality of their passions, knows from what source flow the bitterest exaggerating them into witches and mon- tears, and sters of the most repulsive description, and that not so much " to point a moral," as " to To have a thankless child." adorn a tale;" but in such instances the writer is indebted to their recollections for She sees the young glad creatures of all the interest which his unnatural exhibi- another generation sporting around her, and tions excite-to flashes of former tenderness her thoughts go back to the playmates of shooting through the gloom of despair-to her childhood —some reduced to the lowest bright and glowing associations following in state of helplessness or suffering-some the wake of madness-and to once familiar dead and some forgotten. She hears the images of love and beauty, re-animated by a reluctant answer when she asks a kindness strange paradox. at the touch of the wand of one of the merry group, and she thinks of death, and bending in all their early love- of the time when kindness was more freely liness over the brink of the grave. granted her, though far less needed than Infinite indeed beyond the possibility of now. She starts at the loud laugh, but cancalculation, must be the recollections and not understand the jest, and no one explains associations of her, whose long life, from its it to her listening ear. She loses the thread earliest to its latest period, has been a life of of earnest conversation, and no one restores feeling-whose experience has been that of the clue. She sits within the social circle, impressions, rather than events-and whose but forms no link in the chain of social union. sun goes down amidst the varied and innu- Her thoughts and feelings cannot harmomerable tints which these impressions have nize with those of her juvenile companions, given to its atmosphere. Endued with an and she feels in all its bitterness, that least inexhaustible power of multiplying relative tolerable portion of human experience —what ideas, how melancholy must be the situation it is to be desolate in the midst of societyof her who was once beloved and cherished, surrounded by kindred and friends, and yet now despised and forsaken-who in her turn alone. loved and cherished others, and is now neg- In looking at the situation of woman lected. If she be a mother-one of those merely as regards this life, we are struck fond mothers who expect that mere indul- with the system of unfair dealing by which gence is to win the lasting regard of their her pliable, weak and dependent nature is children, what sad thoughts must crowd subjected to an infinite variety of suffering, upon her at every fresh instance of unkind- and we are ready to exclaim, that of all ness, and every additional proof that she has earthly creatures she is the most pitiable. fallen away from what she was, both in her And so unquestionably she is, when unenown and others' estimation. Over the brow lightened by those higher views which lead that now frowns upon her, she perhaps has her hopes away from the disappointments watched withunutterabletenderness through of the present world, to the anticipa, ed the long night when every eye but hers' fruition promised to the faithful in the workl was sleeping. The lips that now speak to to come. But the whole life of woman, her coldly, or answer her with silence when when studied with reference to eternity, preshe speaks, she has bathed with the welcome sents a view of the great plan of moral disdraught when they were parched and burn- -ipline mercifully designed to assist her ing with contagious fever. The scorn with right conduct through the trials and temptawhich her humble pretensions are looked tions which surround her path. In childdown upon, arises in the hearts of those for hood she is necessarily instructed in what 126 THE POETRY OF LIFE. belongs to social and domestic duty, and here she learns the difficult but important THE POETRY OF THE BIBLE. task of submitting, and of making lier own gratification give place to that of others. In IN tracing the connexion of poetry witil youth she is plunged into a sphere of greater subjects most frequently and naturally pretempt ttions, and of more intense enjoyments, sented to our contemplation, we observe where her experience, embracing the widest how it may be associated with our pursuits, extremes of pain and pleasure, teaches her so as to give interest to what is familiar, to all the different means to be made use of in refine what is material, and to heighten avoiding or palliating the one, and promot- what is sublime. We now open the Bible, ing the other. As a wife and a mother she and find that poetry as a principle of intelhas an opportunity of acting upon the know- lectual enjoyment derived from association, ledge thus acquired, and if her practice does is also diffused through every page of the honour to her theory, it is here that she ob- sacred volume, and so diffused, that the tains an importance, and derives a satisfac- simplest child, as well as the profoundest tion, which might be dangerous even to a sage, may feel its presence. This in fact, disciplined mind, did not age steal on and is the great merit of poetry, (a merit which diffuse his sombre colouring over the plea- in no other volume but the Bible, can be sant pictures to which her affections had found in perfection,) that it addresses itself given too warm a glow, and which her hap- so immediately to the principles of feeling piness had persuaded her to be satisfied with inherent in our nature, as to be intelligible contemplating. But this cold, blank me- to those who have made but little progress dium intervening between life and eternity in the paths of learning, at the same time -between beauty and ashes —between love that it presents a source of the highest and death, comes to warn her that all she gratification to the scholar and the philosohas been desiring, is but as the scattering pher. Let us refer as an example, to the of the harvest to be reaped in heaven; that first chapter of Genesis: all she has been trusting in, is but typical of that which endures for ever; and that all In the beginning, God created the heaven and the she has been enjoying, is but a foretaste of And the earth was without form and void; and darketernal felicity. ness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of Let then the aged woman be no longer God moved upon the face of the waters. ~Let then the aged woman be no longer And God said, Let there be light; and there was light. an object of contempt. She is helpless as a child; but as a child she may be learning A child but just grown familiar with the the last awful lesson from her Heavenly words contained in these verses, not only Father. Her feeble step is trembling on the understands their meaning here, but feels brink of the grave; but her hopes may be something of their sublimity-something of firmly planted on the better shore which the power and the majesty of the God who lies beyond. Her eye is dim with suffering could create this wonderful world, whose and tears; but her spiritual vision may be Spirit moved upon the face of the waters, contemplating the gradual unfolding of the and who said, Let there be light: and there gates of eternal rest. Beauty has faded was light! While learned men of all ages from her form; but angels in the world of have agreed, that no possible combination light may be weaving a wreath of glory for of words, could express more clearly and her brow. Her lip is silent; but it may be powerfully than these, the potency of the only waiting to pour forth celestial strains first operations of almighty power of which of gratitude and praise. Lowly, and fallen, mankind have any record. and sad, she si.s amongst the living; but We have more than once observed that exalted, purified, and happy, she may arise poetry must have some reference, either from the dead. Then turn if thou wilt from uniformly or partially, to our own circumthe aged woman in her loneliness, but re- stances, situation, or experience, as well as member she is not forsaken of her God! to the more remote and varied conceptions of the imagination; and in the Scriptures, THE POETRY OF THE BIBLE. 127 we find this fact fully illustrated. Witness Am I my brother's keeper? is a question the frequent recurrence of these simple with which we are too apt to answer the rewords —and God said. We are not told proaches of conscience, when we have viothat the mandates of almighty power issued lated the most important trust or neglected forth from the heavens, but simply, that Gods the duties which ought to be the dearest/in said: a mode of speech familiar to the least life. And what sufferer under the first incultivated understanding, yet in no danger fliction of chastisement, consequent upon of losing its sublimity as used here, because his own transgressions, has not given utterimmediately after, follow those manifesta- ance to the expressive language-my puntions of universal subordination, which give ishment is greater than I can bear? Thus us the most forcible idea of the omnipotence far this striking passage contains what is faof Divine will. miliar and natural to every human being, Again, after the transgression of our first but beyond this, yet at the same time conparents, when nected with it, it has great power and even sublimity, in no instance more so, than - they heard the voice of the Lord God walking where it is said, that Cain went outro the in the garden in the cool of the day: and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God presence of the Lord. amongst the trees of the garden. The peculiarly emphatic manner in which And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto the Lord promises to bless Abraham him, Where art thou And he said, I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was sayingafraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself. I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that What description of shame and abase- curseth thee: and in thee shall all the families of the earth be blessed. ment can be more true to human nature than this? But the character of Cain af- As well as afterwards whenfords the earliest, the most consistent, and perhaps, the most powerful exemplifications - the Lord came unto Abram in a vision, saying, Fear not, Abram: I am thy shield, and thy exceedof affections and desires perverted from ing great rewardtheir original purity and singleness of purpose. Cain, the- second man who breathed is comprehensive and ihll of meaning beupon the newly-created earth, felt all the yond what more elaborate language could stirrings of envy and jealousy, precisely as possibly convey. And also after the sepawe feel them at this day, and he ration from Lot, where the Lord said unto Abraham, ~- - - talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where against Abel his brother, and slew him. thou art, northward, and southward, and eastward and And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy westward: brother? and he said, I know not: am I my brother's For all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give keeper? it, and to thy seed for ever. And he said, What hast thou done? the voice of th-y And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth: so brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground. that if a man can number the dust of the earth, then shall And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath thy seed also be numbered. opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from Arise, walk through the land in the length of it, and in thy hand; the breadth of it; for I will give it unto thee. When thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth Then Abram removed his tent, anol came and dwelt in yield unto thee her strength; a filugitive and a vagabond the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron, and built there shalt thou be in the earth. an altar to the Lord. And Cain said unto the Lord, My punishment is greater than I can bear. Here the act of stretching the sight to the Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth: and from thy face shall I be hid; and I shall northward, and southward, and eastward, be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall and westward, and walking through the come to pass, that every one that findeth me shall slay land in the length of it, and in the breadth me. And the lord said unto him, Therefore whosoever ulayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. and distance, at once simple and sublime; And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him and when we read tat whenever the faithshould kill him. And Cain went out from the presence of the Lord.- ful patriarch found rest in his wanderings, f128 THE POETRY OF LIFE. he built there an altar to the Lord, our that we see and feel the poetry even of the thoughts are led on by a natural transition historical parts of the Bible. The separate to our own experience, to ask what record accounts of the creation and the deluge, we have left, or could leave in the past, to handed down to us in language the most prove that the same divine presence was intelligible and unadorned, present to the I with us in our journey through life. imagination pictures of sublimity so awful The story of Hagar is one of great poeti- and impressive, that it seems not improbable cal interest. We pursue the destitute mo- we may in some measure have derived ther and her helpless child into the solitude our ideas of sublimity and power, from of the wilderness, and behold a picture impressions made by our first reading of which has become proverbial for the utter the Bible. Beside. which, we find descripdesolation which it represents. Compelled tions of the desert, and the wilderness, the by a stern necessity, with the ultimate good wells of water, and the goodly pastures, of of which she was wholly unacquainted, the the intercourse of angels with the children mother goes forth as she believes, un- of men, and of the visitations of the Supreme friended and alone, to trust herself and the Intelligence, if not personally, in the diffetreasure of her affections to the mercy of the rent manifestations of his power and his elements, and the shelter of the pathless love-as a voice, and an impulse-all conwilds, unconscious that her peculiar situation veyed to us in language as simple as if a is made the especial care of the Father of the shepherd spoke of his flocks upon the mounfatherless, and the Protector of the forlorn. tain —as sublime as if an angel wrote the record of the world. And the water was spent in the bottle, and she cast Nor is the poetry of the Bible by any the child under one of the shrubs. And she went, and sat her down over against him a means confined to those passages in which good way off, as it were a bow-shot; for she said, Let the power of the Almighty is exhibited as me not see the death of the child. And she sat over operating upon the infntworld. The same against him, and lift up her voice and wept. And God heard the voice of the lad; and the angel of influence extending over the passions and God called to Hagar out of heaven, and said unto her, affections of human nature, is described with What aileth thee, Hagar. Fear not; for God hath heard the voice of the lad where e is. the most touching pathos, and the most imthe voice of the lad where he is. Arise, lift up the lad, and hold him in thine hand; for pressive truth. That moving and controllI wtll make him a great nation. ing influence, so frequently spoken of as the word of the Lord coming with irresistiAnd in the following chapter, where ble power upon the instruments of his will, Abraham, faithful, even to the resigning is nowhere set before us in a stronger light, his dearest treasure, goes forth with his son, than in the character of Balaam, when he prepared to render him up if the Lord declaredthat if Balak would give him his should require it at his hand; house full of silver and gold. he could not go And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father and said, beyond the word of the Lord his God to do My father l and he said, Here am I, my son: and he said, less or more. Not even when he stood Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for upon the high place amidst the seven altars a burnt offering sacrifice, princes And Abraham said, My son, God will provide himself with the burning and all the a burnt offering: so they went both of them together. of Moab around him, and knew that the express object of his calling was to curse the How strong must have been the faith of people whom the most high had blessed; the patriarch at that moment; or if not, how yet here, before the multitudes assembled to agonizing his feelings as a father! But if hear the confirmation of their hopes, he was there were any of the natural struggles of compelled to acknowledge how those hopes humanity between his faith and his love, were defeatedt saying: they are sealed to us, by the simple and _ Balak, the king of Moab, hath brought me from beautiful conclusi n, —so they went both of Aram, out of the mountains of the east, saying, Come, them together. curse me Jacob, and come, defy me Israel. Yet it is nct merely in particular instances,| How shall I curse, whom God lath not cursed or suYch it is t merely ingled particulr instanes, how shall I defy, whom the Lord hath not dlefled such as may be singled out for examples, For from the top of the rocks I see him, and from the THE POETRY OF THE BIBLE. 129 hills I behold him: lo, the people shall dwell alone, and from the children of Ammon, shall surely be the Lord's, shall not be reckoned among the nations. and I will offer it up for a burnt-offering. Who can count the dust of Jacob, and the number of So oephthah passed over unto the children of Ammon the fourth part of Israeli Let me die the death of the to fight against them; and the Lord delivered them into righteous. and let my last end be like his! his hands. And Balak said unto Balaam, What hast thou done And he smote them from Aroer, even till thou come unto me. I took thee to curse mine enemies, and, be- to Minnith, even twenty cities, and unto the plain of the hold, thou hast blessed them altogether. vineyards, with a very great slaughter.' Thus the ahildAnd he answered and said, Mlust I not take heed to ren of Ammon were subdued before the children of speak that which the Lord hath put into my mouth I Israel. And Jephthah came to Mizpeh unto his house, and be. Although Balaam knew that by obeying hold his daughter came out to meet him with timbrels - and with dances: and she was his only child; beside the word of the Lord he was sacrificing the her he had neither son nor daughter. favour of his master, who had promised to And it came to pass, when he saw her, that he rent promote him to honour, yet again, when his clothes, and said, Alas, my daughter! Thou hast brought me very low, and thou art one of them that brought to the top of another mountain with trouble me: for I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, the vain hope of escaping from the power and I cannot go back. of Omnipotence-when seven altars were And she said unto him, My father, if thou hast opened thy mouth unto the Lord, do to me according to that again built, and seven bullocks and seven which hath proceeded out of thy mouth; forasmuch as rams sacrificed, the people of Moab were the Lord hath taken vengeance for thee of thine enemies, again told, that the Lord even of the children of Ammon. hath not beheld iniquity in Jacob, neither hath he The character of Samson displays in a seen perverseness in Israel: the Lord his God is with powerful manner that combination of strength him, and the shout of a king is among them. and weakness, which too frequently proDisappointed and defeated, Bahla-k now duces the most fatal and irrevocable ruin. very naturally exclaimrs, Neither curse them It is a character well worthy of our greatest at all, nor bless them at all. Yet still will- poet, yet one, to the interest of which, his ing to try for the third and last time, the genius could add nothing and (what issayins much) could expatiate upon without power of man against his Maker, he leads in uch) could expatiate upon without Balaam to the top of Mount Peor, where taking anything away. We, first behold the same ceremonial gives the sanction of Samson as the man before whom the Phitruth, and the majesty of poiver, to the words listines trembled, after rending the lion, and of the prophet; and here it is that he pours scattering thousands with a single arm, forth for the last time, a blessing, still richer stooping to the dalliance of a false and worthless woman —three times deceived — and more unlimited than before, beginning worthless oman-three times deceivedwith tlhe beautiful and poetic language, Z wantonly and wickedly deceived, yet trusting her at last with the secret of his strength. How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy taberna- Next, betrayed into the hands of his enemies, cles, O Israel!find him As the valleys are they spread forth, as gardens by the river's side, as the trees of lign aloes which the Lord hath planted, and as cedar trees beside the waters. To those wno are best acquainted with And lastly, as if this punishment were not To those who are best acquainted with the poetry of the human heart the sad his- sufficient, he is led forth and placed between.he potyo e hua erth the pillars in the public hall of entertaintory of Jephthah and his daughter affords the pillars in the public hall of entertain-.:~..ment, to make sport at the fbstival of his particular interest, told as it is in language particuar interest, enemies, rejoicing in his weakness and his never yet exceeded fox simplicity and gen-.never yet exceeded fa r simplicity and gen- bonds; where the indignation of his unconuine beautyv, by any of the numerous wri querable soul finally nerves him for that ters who have given us both in prose an tremendous act of retributive vengeance, verse, imaginary details of this melancho'y by which the death of amson is com emI.1 y by which the death of Samson is commnemstory. orated. And Jephthah vowed a vow unto the Lord, and said, The story of Ruth is familiar in its touchif thou shalt without fail deliver the children of Ammon ing pathos, to every feeling heart; as well into mine hands,.as intrinsically beautiful to every poetic Then it shall be, that whatsoever cometh forth of the doors of my house to meet me, when I return in peace mind. What for instance can exceed the 9 130 THE POETRY OF LIFE. description of the separation of the sisters, scious of the high honour which awaited when their mother entreats them to leave him, that when Samuel emphatically asks, her. "Is not the desire of the people on thee, and on thy father's house?" he answers with And they lifted up their voice and wept again: and on thy father's house he answers with Orpah kissed her mother-in-law; but Ruth clave unto perfect humility and simplicity of heart, her. And she said, Behold, thy sister-in-law is gene back Am not I a Benjamite, of the smallest of the tribes of unto her people, and unto her gods: return th bu after Israel i and my family the least of all the families of the thy sister-in-law. tribe of Benjamin X wherefore then speakest thou so to And Ruth said, Entreat me not to leave thee, or to re- me turn from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy peo- Yet, pie shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: it was so, that when he had turned his back to the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death go from Samuel, God gave him another heart. part thee and me. We have no reason to suppose an ambiIn speaking of poetry as it relates to the tious heart, but rather a heart enlarged with passions, and to the minor impulses, and I in at t mn iple a a conception of the favour of the Almighty, finer sensibilities of human nature, as well the of and filled with the spirit of prophecy, and as to the scenes and circumstances most as to the scenes and circumstances most with all heavenward aspirations; so that, calculated for their developement, we have under a sense of the responsibility of sendunder a sense of the responsibility of sendno hesitation in pointing out the life and ing forth as a king, an edict among his character of Saul, as one, abounding per-.. l >. people, he built an altar unto the Lord, and haps more than any other in the Scriptures, asked counsel of God before he went down with poetical interest. The book of Job is with poetical interest. The book of Job is after the Philistines. Thus far we find him one of poetry itself, yet the character of the obedient as a man, and faithful as a sovesublime sufferer does not afford the variety exhibited in that of Saul. Prostrate in the the temptations which surround a throne: dust of the earth, and still holding commu- nion with the Deity, we behold him as an but the power of leading and governing isolated being, struck out from the common, soon produced its natural and fre-.=) ^.. lquent consequence a disposition to be lot, and set apart for a particular dispensa- quent consequence-a disposition to be. tion, whose severity was sufficient to fill a uided by his own inclination, and to resist more human heart with bitterness. But t he r authority. Thus, when comexperience of Saul is that of a more ordi- d to go and smite the Am and utterly to slay both men and women, nary man, with whom we can fully sympa- and infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel thize, as we go along with him through infant eep, ca and ass, he spared Agag and the best of those great national and social changes, by which men of common mould are often the sheep, and of the oxen, and of the fatlings, and of thelambs, and all that was placed before the world in a point of view good, and would not utterly destroy them; so striking and important, as to entitle them good, and would not utterly destroy them; e in the thereby transgressing the great paramount to the name of great. WVe recognize in the to. the name ofgeat.law, no less necessary for the right govking of Israel the same motives and feelings, v ernment of an infant mind, than for an by which men in all ages have been influinfant world —the law of obedience. enced; yet while we speak of him as a less extraordinary character than Job, it is only Then came the word of the Lord unto Samuel, saying, so far as the features of his character are It repenteth me that I have set up Saul to be king: for l more intelligible and familiar to our obser- he is turned back from following me, and hath not performed my commandments. And it grieved Samuel; vation and experience; for every thing and he cried unto the Lord all night. recorded of him in his eventful history, And when Samuel rose up early to meet Saul in the bespeaks a mind imbued at the same time morning, it was told Samuel, saying, Saul came up to Carmel, and, behold, he set him up a place, and is gone rwith power and sensibility, and a soul capa- about, and passed on, and gone down to Gilgal. ble of the extremes both of good and evil. And Samuel came to Saul: and Saul said unto him,. We behold him first a simple youth-a Blessed be thou of the Lord: I have performed the commandment of the Lord. choice young man, and a goodly, so uncon- And Samuel said, What meaneth then this bleating of THE POETRY OF THE BIBLE. 131 the sheep in mine ears, and the lowing of the oxen which strel chosen to come and charm away, with And Saul said, They have brought them from the the melody of his harp, the evil spirit from Amalekites: for the people spared the best of the sheep the mind of his predecessor in authority; and of the oxen, to sacrifice unto the Lord thy God; and and that Saul should arise relieved and rethe rest we have utterly destroyed. Then Samuel said unto Saul, Stay, and I will tell thee freshed by the music of the instrument of his what the Lord hath said to me this night. And he said future torment. For it is not long before envy l unto him. Say on. enters into his heart, adding its envenomed And Samuel said, When thou wast little in thine own sight, wast thou not made the head of the tribes of Israel, stings to the anguish he is already enduring. and the Lord anointed thee king over Israel? He hears the song of the dancing women as And the Lord sent thee on a journey, and said, Go and they meet him with tabrets and with joy, utterly destroy the sinners of the Amalekites, and fight answering one another, and saying, that against them until they be consumed. answering one another, and saying Wherefore then didst thou not obey the voice of the Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his Lord, but didst fly upon the spoil, and didst evil in thesands, and he tens of thousands, and he asks, What can sight of the Lord ass David have more but the kingdom.? Yet After this reproof from Samuel, Saul again after this he promises him his daughter in endeavours to justify himself by proving that marriage, but quickly repenting him of the the reservation he had made was solely for purposed honour, bestows her upon another. the purpose of sacrificing to the Lord, when Again, hoping she may be a snare to him, the prophet emphatically asks, he offers him his second daughter; and then we are told that he saw and knew that the IIath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, Lord was with David, and that his daughter to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the loved him. And Saul was yet the more fat of rams. afraid of David; and he became his enemy To Samuel, who seems hitherto to have continually: yet once more at the earnest stood in the capacity of an intercessor be- intercession of Jonathan, Saul consents to tween him and the Divine Majesty, Saul receive David again into his presence. now humbles himself and entreats that he, And Jonathan called David, and Jonathan shewed him will pardon his sin, and turn again with him, all those things. And Jonathan brought David to Saul, that he may worship the Lord. And when and he was in his presence as in times past. still rejected, he humbles himself yet more, And there was war again: and David went out and s fought with the Philistines, and slew them with a great and prays (Oh! how naturally!) that at slaughter; and they fled from him. least the prophet will honor him before the And the evil spirit from the Lord was upon Saul, as he le th he wl no sat in his house with his javelin in his hand: and David people, that the world may not witness his played with his hand. degradation. And now Samuel yields, but And Saul sought to smite David even to the wall with we are told soon after that he came no more the javelin; but he slipped away out of Saul's presence, Seauetold until afthe dha hi dmeat ne e and he smote the javelin into the wall: and David fled, to see Saul until the day of his death; never- and escaped that night. theless he mourned for him, and the Lord repented that he had made Saul king over The struggle was now passed The earIsrael. ly tendency of the soul of the king to seek, and to do good, was finally subdued, and he And the Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and an and to do good, was finally subdued evil spirit from the Lord troubled him. went forth to pursue the chosen of the Lord, as an open and avowed enemy; yet, enHow descriptive is this passage of this vouring to justify himself by proving that gradual falling away from Divine favour, David had first risen up against him, he apwhich sometimes darkens and weighs down peals to his servants, and fully conscious the soul, filling it with gloomy thoughts, and that his cause would not stand the test of sad forebodings, long before the melancholy impartial examination, he appeals to their change is perceptible in the outward charac- interest, and to their compassion, rather than ter. And how strikingly does it illustrate to their judgment. the hidden, and to us mysterious workings of the great plan of Providence, that the fu- Hear now, ye Benjamites; will the son of Jesse give te g of rdeceta te every one of you fields and vineyards, and make you all ture king of Israel, already secretly appointed captains of thousands, and captains of hundreds; by Divine commission, should be the min- That all of you have conspired against me, and there 132 THE POETRY OF LIFE. s none that sheweth me that my son hath made a league put away all who had familiar spirits, and with the son of Jesse, and there is none of you that is dissorry for me, or sheweth unto me that my son hath zards, out of the stirred up my servant against me, to lie in wait, as at guise himself, and to go at midnight to cast this day his forlorn hopes upon the enchantments cf the witch of Endor Filled with rancour and jealousy, heightened by the rising fame and influence of And he said to the woman, I pray thee, divine unto me David, Saul pursues him to the wilderness by a familiar spirit, and bring up him, whom I shall name of Engedi, where we meet with a remark- unto thee. And the woman said unto him, Behold, thou knowest able instance of forbearance on the part of a what Saul hath done, how he hath cut off those that have persecuted man. With the skirt of the familiar spirits, and the wizards, out of the land: wherekino's robe in his hand, David shows him fore then layest thou a snare for my life, tc cause me to die? that he had advanced so near his person And Saul sware to her by the Lcrd, saying, As the as to have been able with the same facility Lord liveth, there shall no punishment happen to thee to destroy his life, but that he spared him for this thing. Then sail the woman, Whom shall I bring up unto from reverence for the Lord's anointed. thee? And he said, Bring me up Samuel. When, struck at once with a sense of his And when the woman saw Samuel, she cried with a own recent danger, with the honourable loud voice; and the woman spake to Saul, saying, Why hast thou deceived me? for thou art Saul. dealing of one whom he believed to be an And the king said unto her, Be not afraid: for what enemy, with the sight of the man he had sawest thou? And the woman said unto Saul, I saw once loved —loved in the days when his gO(ls ascending out of the earth And he said unto her, What form is he of? And she heart was not as now, seared with the said, An old man cometh up; and he is covered with a worst of passions; and perhaps touched mantle. And Saulperceived that it was Samuel, and he more tan all with the tones of the voice stooped with his face to the ground, and bowed himself. more than all with the tones of the voice And Samuel said to Saul, Why hast thou disquieted which in those happier days had been his me, to bring me up? And Saul answered, I am sore dismusic, Saul exclaims, Is this thy voice, mJy tressed; for the Philistines make war against me, and son David? and then h*e li7ftedl z *his voi*ce'God is departed from me. and aniiwereth me no more, neither by prophets, nor by dreams: therefore I have and wept. After this burst of tenderness, called thee, that thou mayst make known unto me what his heart is opened to express the full sense I shall do. Then said Samuel, Wherefore then dost thou ask of he had of David's superiority, and the strong me, seeing the Lord is departed from thee, and is become feeling ever present to his mind, that he thine enemy? should one day be compelled to resign the And the Lord hath done to him as he spake by me: for the Lord hath rent the kingdom out of thine hand, reins of government into his hands. and given it to thy neighbour, even to David: Because thou obeyedst not the voice of the Lord, nor And he said to David, Thou art more righteous than executedst his fierce wrath upon Amalek, therefore hath I: for thou hast rewarded me good, whereas I have re- the Lord done this thing unto thee this day. warded thee evil. Moreover the Lord will also deliver Israel with thee And now, behold, I know well that thou shalt surely into the hand of the Philistines: and to-morrow shalt be king, and that the kingdom of Israel shall be esta- thou and thy sons be with me: the Lord also shall deblished in thine hand. liver the host of Israel into the hand of the Philistines. Then Saul fell straightway all along on the earth, and A second instance of a similar kind oc- was sore afraid, because of the words of Samuel: and.A second instane of a simlar kind oc- there was no strength in him; for he had eaten no bread curs, in which Saul appears to be struck, all the day, nor all the night. though less forcibly, with the generosity of David. whom he still addresses as his son, How affecting is this picture of the abject and of whom he again prophesies, that he state of a fallen king-fallefn not so much "shall do great things, and shall still pre- from earthly honour, as from the countevail." But these transient ebullitions of nance and protection of the King of kings. former feeling pass away before the gather- Even Saul, the envious persecutor of his ing influence of David, and Saul humbles unoffending successor, becomes an object of himself to seek consolation under his falling compassion, when he answers to the quedfortunes from the last miserable and barren tion of Samuel, " Why hast thou disquieted resource of the utterly destitute in soul. me?" "Because I am sore distressed." Samuel is dead, and though the king had, And when it is said that "he stooped with from the impulse of his better judgment, his face to the ground," and finally "fell THE POETRY OF THE BIBLE. 133 straightway all along upon the earth," there And we see the same covenant binding can scarcely be a stronger description of to- them together through all the changes of tal abandonment of soul under a deep sense their after life; for Jonathan, who loved the of the overwhelming might of Omnipotence; simple minstrel boy that charmed away the as well as of a melancholy presage of the evil spirit from his father, ki., iv not the envy entire uprooting of all that he had trusted of Saul when that minstrel became a man and gloried in. Yet scarcely trusted in, for of war, and multitudes were gathered behe had greatly feared the thing which was neath his banner. And David, persecuted about to come upon him, and which the aw- as he was by the father of his friend, never ful voice of the prophet risen from the dead once betrayed towards him or his, the bitterhad solemnly confirmed. ness of an injured spirit, but followed him The doom of the king of Israel was now even to his death, with the reverence due to sealed. And when the Philistines arose and the Lord's anointed. It is then that he pours fought against Israel, and "followed hard forth, both fbr Saul and Jonai'an, thatbeauafter Saul and his sons, and the Philistines tifiul and affecting lamentation, which no slew Jonathan, and Abinadab, and Melchi- language can exceed in poetry and pathos. shua, Saul's sons;" The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places: And the battle went sore against Saul, and the archers how are the mighty fallen Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Ashit him; and e was sore wounded of the archers; kelon; lest the daughters of the Philistines re oice.st Then said Saul unto his armour-bearer, Draw thy the daughters of the unircumcised triniph. the daughters of the uncircumcised tri-imph. sword, and thrust Ine through therewith; lest these un- e tain of Gilbo, let there be no dew, neither circumcised come and thrust me through, andabuse me. Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither circumcised come and thrust me through, and abuse me. let there be rain, upon you, nor fields of offerings: for But his armour-bearer would not; for he was sore afraid. Therefore Saul took a sword and fell upon it there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the Therefore Sau took a sword, and fell upon itshield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil. Through the whole of this history, we From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, trace the same strotng and natural develope- the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul returned not empty. ment of feeling, which all our most talented Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their authors aspire to in their descriptions, and lives, and in death they were not divided: they were upon which they chiefly depend for the p- "swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed etical interest of what they describe. But you in scarlet, with other delights, who put on ornawhile in the character of Saul are forcibly ments of gold upon your apparel. portrayed the fatal workings of the passions How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places. of envy, jealousy, and remorse, accompanied I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very withimany of those delicate shades, which pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was denote the latest yearnings after good, and wonderful, passing the love of woman. v low are the mighty fallen. and the weapons of war the earliest tendency to evil, the character perished! of David is scarcely less poetical in its strength, and beauty, and consistency, va- There is an instance of' maternal affecried by a few instances of natural weakness, tion recorded in the 21st chapter of the same producing their own atonement in the humi- book, which in speaking of the strength of liation, the abasement, the agony of mind, and human passions ought not to be passed over the final welcome back to Divine love, by without notice. It is where David wa. comwhich they are succeeded. manded to destroy the remnant of the house The attachment between David and Jona- of Saul, and seven sons of the late king than is perhaps the most beautiful and per- were delivered up into his hand, but he I fect instance of true friendship which we spared Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan, have (cn record. As a shepherd, and a because of the Lord's oath that was between riilce, tlelr lirst covenant is made. David and Jonathan. Then.onathan and David maae a covenant, because But the Lking tookl the two sons of RWizaliah, the (laughter i! he loved him as his own sorul. of Aiah, whom she bare unto Saul, Armuoni and MephiAnd Jonathan stripped oft' the robe that was upon him, bosheth; and tie five sons of Alicltal, the daughter of andt gave it to David, aid his garments, even to his Sitmi, w\homn she brought up for Adriel, tho son of Bar| sword, and to his bow, andl to his girdle. zillai, the MIeholathite; 134 THE POETRY OF LIFE. And he delivered them into the hands of the Gibeon- of ordinary discussion, in a sphere more ites, and they hanged them in the hill before the Lord: exclusively appropriated to considerations and they fell all seven together, and were put to death in the days of harvest, in the first days, in the beginning Of infinitely greater importance. of barley harvest. Some further progress may however re And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth, and in the course we spread it fobr her upon the rock, from the beginning of justnable hope harvest, until water dropped upon them out of heaven, hitherto pursued without profaning what is and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them pure, or violating what is sacred; and we by day. nor the beasts of the field by night. consequently pause at that passage in the Of all the instances, imaginary or real, book of Kings, in which the prophet Elljah handed down to us by fable or history, we is described as escaping from his enemies have not one of a more intense and devoted into the solitude of the wilderness, where, love than this. A solitary woman seated casting himself upon the ground, he exupon a rock, watching the wasting bodies claims, "It is enough; now, 0 Lord, take of her two dead sons, day after day-night away my life, for I am not better than my after night-with no shelter but the open fathers." canopy of heaven-no repose but the sack- Such were the human feelings contending cloth spread upon the rock, an emblem of for the empire of his mind, that he was her own abasement-no hope but to see the almost weary of the service of his Divine last-the very last of all she loved-no con- Master, accompanied as it was with disapsolation but her constancy-no support but pointment, hatred, and persecution. How the magnitude of her own incommunicable simple, and yet how admirably adapted to grief. It was the beginning of harvest, and his peculiar state, are the means here adopted the feet of a busy multitude might come and to bring him again to a sense of the supergo beneath that solitary rock-the shout of intending care and love of his heavenly gladness-the acclamation of the joyous Father. reapers might be heard from the valleys reapers might be heard from the valleys And as he lay and slept under a juniper tree, behold, below; but there she sat in her loneliness then an angel to-ched him, and said unto him, Arise and upon the dismal watch tower of death, eat. faithful to her silent and sacred trust, sztffer- And he looked, and behold, there was a cake baken on the coals, and a cruse of water at his head. And he did ing neither the birds of the air to rest on eat and drink, and laid him down again. them by day, nor the beasts of the field by And the angel of the Lord came again a second time, night. and touched him, and said, Arise and eat; because the journey is too great for thee. The whole life of the prophet Elijah, And he arose, and did eat and drink, and went in the especially his last appearance upon earth, strength of that meat forty days and forty nights unto Horeb the mount of God. is remarkable for an interest whose least is remarkable for an interest whose least And he came thither unto a cave, and lodged there, recommendation is that of being highly po- and behold, the word of the Lord came unto him, What etical; for deeply as this subject has occu- dost thou here, Elijah? And he said, I have been very jealous for the Lord God pied the heart of the writer, it must be of hosts: for the children of Israel have forsaken thy confessed that in pursuing it through the covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy proHoly Scriptures, and tracing its connexion phets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away. with the revelation of those sacred truths And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount beupon which depend our hopes of eternity, fore the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a the consideration of poetry loses much of great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not its importance by comparison, and the task in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the of the writer becomes like that of one who Lord was not in the earthquake. culls withE adventurous hand, the flowers And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was net in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice. that grow around the fountain of life. This And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped view of the subject would of itself be su- his face in his mantle, and went oult, and stood ill the encient to prevent any near approach to the ering in of the cave. And, behold, there came a voice clent to prevent any near approach to the unto him, and said, What dost thou here, Elijah? doctrinal parts of the Scriptures, whose strictly spiritual import, though still couched WVhere, through the wide range of modern in language both figurative and poetical in literature can we find a passage to be comthe extreme, places them above the reach pared with this, for the conciseness and sim THE POETRY OF THE BIBLE. 135 plicity with which ideas the most sublime Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the gods? who and elevated are conveyed into the mind? is like thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing and elevated are conveyed into the mind'? wonders The prophet had been looking, (perhaps Thou stretchedst out thy right hand, the earth swal. impatiently) for some striking exhibition of lowed them. Thou in thy mercy hast led forth the people which Almighty power amongst the children of thou hast redeemed: thou hast guided them in thy men, forgetful of the secret springs of action, strength unto thy holy habitation. and action itself being alike under the con- Thou shalt bring them in, and plant them in the mountain of thine inheritance, in the place, O Lord, which trol of Omnipotence; when his faith and his thou hast made for thee to dwell in, in the sanctuary, O confidence are reanimated by witnessing Lord, which thy hands have established. one of those tremendous and awful convul- The Lord shall reign for ever and ever. sions of the elements, by which forests are Then Moses pours forth before the peouprooted, and rocks overthrown, accompa- ple his last public testimony to the mercy, nied with the internal conviction that the the might, and the vengeance of the Alimmediate presence of the Lord was not mighty, it is in the same powerful strain of there. Again, an earthquake shakes the p calfervour. world; but the Lord is not in the earthquake; after the earthquake a fire, but the Give ear, O ye heavens, and I will speak; and hear, O Lord is not in the fire. No; though such earth, the words of my mouth. Do ye thus requite the Lord, O foolish people and unare the open manifestations of' his power, wise? Is not he thy father that hath brought thee. by which he makes the nations tremble, yet Hath he not made thee, and established thee? the prophet was convinced that the war of Remember the days of old, consider the years of many the prophet was convrinced that the war of generations: ask thy father, and he will shew thee, thy the elements micht exist, and the destruction elders, and they will tell thee. of the earth ensue, without that sensible? When the Most High divided to the nations their inheritance, when he separated the sons of Adam, he set presence of the Almighty, for the want of the bounds of the people according to the number of the which his soul was fainting. At last, after children of Israel. the fire, there came a still small voice, and For the Lord's portion is his people; Jacob is the lot Elijah felt that the Lord was near, that he He found him in a desert land, and in the waste howlwas not forsaken, and that, independent of ins wilderness; he led him about, he instructed him, he the outward symbols of illimitable power, kept him as the apple of his eye. As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her the Creator of the world is able to carry on young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, bearhis operations in the mind of man, by the eth them on her wings: desire of the heart, the silent thought, or the So the Lord alone did lead him, and there was no strange God with him. secret impulse directed towards the accom- To me belongeth vengeance, and recompense; their plishment of his inscrutable designs. foot shall slide in due time: for the day of their calamity A great proportion of tihe Holy Scriptures ~is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste. is not only poetical, but real poetry. Under For the Lord shall judge his people, and repent himthis head the song of Moses, and the chil- self for his servants, when he seeth that their power is. 7. =~~~~~gone, and there is none shut up, or left. dren of. Israel, is the first instance that And he shall say, Where are their gods, their rock in occurs. In this song, the passage of the whom they trusted? children of Israel through'the Red Sea, the overthrow of Pharaoh's host, and the won- And again, the last blessing of Moses is derful dealing of the Lord with his chosen in language full of poetry. people, are commemorated in language And he said, The Lord came from Sinai, and rose up highly figurative and sublime. trom Seir unto them; he shined fbrth from mount l'aran, and he came with ten thousands of saints: from his The Lord is my strength and song, and he is become right hand went a fiery law unto them. my salvation: he is my God, and I will prepare him an And of Joseph he said, Blessed of the Lord be his land, habitation; my father's God, and I will exalt him. for the precious things of heaven, for the dew, and for Thy right hand, 0 Lord, is become glorious in power: the deep that coucheth beneath, thy riht hal', C I:uri bhali 4rdshed in pieces the enemy. F And for the precious fruits brought forth lby the sun, And in the greatness of tny exce:?ency hast thou over- and for the precious things put forth by the moon, thrown them that rose up against thee: thou sentest And for the chief things of the ancient mountains, and forth thy wrath, which consumed them as stubble. for the precious things of the lasting hills, And with the blast of thy nostrils the waters wert I There is none like unto the God of Jeshurun, who gathered tog ether, the floods stood upright as an heso, rideth upon the heaven in thy help, and in his excellency and the depths were congealed in the heart of the sea. on the sky. 136 THE POETRY OF LIFE. The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the The mother of Sisera looked out at a window, and everly iting arms, and he shall thrust out the enemy from cried through the lattice, Why is his chariot so long in before thee; and shall say, Destroy them. coming? why tarry the wheels of his chariots? Israel then shall dwell in safety alone: the fountain of Her wise ladies answered her, yea, she returned 8sm Jacob shall be upon a land of corn and wine, also his swer to herself: heavens shall drop down dew. Have they not sped? have they not divided the prey; Happy art thou, O Israel: who is like unto thee, O to every man a damsel or two? to Sisera a prey of divprsa people saved by the Lord, the shield of thy help, and colours, a prey ofdivers colours of needle-work, of divers who is the sword of thy excellency! and thine enemies colours of needle-work on both sides, meet for the necks shall be found liars unto thee; and thou shalt tread upon of them that take the spoil? their high places. So let all thine enemies perish, O Lord: but let them that love him be as the sun when he goeth forth in his These two examples are, however, infe- might. rior to the song of Deborah and Barak, for the high tone of metaphorical ornament, Were it possible to take away the poetry characterizing the whole of that incompar- from these passages, and leave their sense able specimen of poetical imagery, which entire, we should then see how much they immediately strikes us with the idea of its owe in intellectual beauty, to that peculiar having been the archetype of some of the style of language, which adorns the whole finest passages in Ossian, as well as the ori- of the Scriptures. It would, however, be a ginal from which many of our own notions vain attempt to remove one, and leave the of the beauty and melody of language are other untouched; because their sense as derived. well as their poetry consists in allusion, and association. We are not merely told of Praise ye the Lord for the avenging of Israel, when the people willingly offered themselves that, which it is the direct object of the inthe people willingly offered themselves. Hear, O ye kings; give ear, O ye princes; I, even I, spired minstrels to describe, but our will sing unto the Lord; I wvill sing praise to the Lord thoughts are extended beyond to an infinity God of Israel. Lord, when thou wentest out or Seir, when thou of relative ideas, which neither crowd upon marchedst out of the field of Edom, the earth trembled, nor neutralize each other, but all flow natuand the heavens dropped, the clouds also dropped water. turally and easily into the same stream of The mountains melted from before the Lord, even that Sinai from before the Lord God of Israel. enjoyment, mingling with and accelerating And the princes of Issachar were with Deborah; even its uniform and uninterrupted course. Issachar, and also Barak: he was sent on foot into the We now conclude this minute examinavalley. For the divisions of Reuben there were great thoughts of heart. tion of the Scriptures, not only because it is Why abodest thou among the sheepfolds, to hear the unnecessary for our purpose to pursue it bleatings of the flocks? For the divisions of Reuben there were great searchings of heart. further, but because we should soon arrive Gilead abode beyond Jordan: and why did Dan re- at those portions of the sacred record, which main in ships? Asher continued on the sea-shore, and consist entirely of poetry, the most genuine abode in his breaches. Zebulun and Naplhtali were a people that jeoparded and sublime. We have already seen their lives unto the death in the high places of the field. enough to convince us that the same princiThe kings came and fought; then fought the kings of ch is associated with our inCanaan in Taanach by the waters of Megiddo: they took no gain of money. tellectual enjoyments, is diffused-copiously They fought from heaven; the stars in their courses diffused throughout the written revelation fought against Sisera. nought a~ainst Sisera. of eternal truth a revelation -whose wonderThe river of Kishon swept them away, that ancient river, the river Kishon. 0 my soul, thou hast trodden ful adaptation to every variety of human down strenth., feeling, and condition, carries along Curse ye MIeraz, (said the angel of the Lord,) curse ye with it the clearest evidence of its divine aubitterly the inhlabitants thereof; because they came not thority. Coeval with the infancy of time. to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord agraist it still remains the circle of the mi>ghty. Blessed above women shall Jael the wife of THeber the its intelligence. Simple as the language of Renite be; blessed shall she be above women in the tent. a child, it charms the most fastidious taste. She put her ihaid to the nail, and her right hand to the as the voice of grief it reaches to workman's hammer: and with the hammer she smote Sisera; she smote off his head, when she had pierced the highest pitch of exultation. Intelligible and stricken throutgh his temples. to the unlearned peasant, it supplies the At her foct h bowet, e fe, he ll, he lay own: at her feet with ood or ea he bowved; lie fell; where he bowed, there he fell down dead. thought. Silent and secret as the reproofs THE POETRY OF THE BIBLE. 137 of conscience, it echoes beneath the vaulted diate dealing with his rational and responsidome of the cathedral and shakes the trem- ble creatures, is so filled with the true mebling multitude. The last companion of the lody of language, as to harmonize with all dying and the destitute, it seals the bridal our most tender, refined, and elevated vow, and crowns the majesty of kings. thoughts. With our established ideas of Closed in the heedless grasp of the luxu- beauty, and grace, and pathos, and subrious and the slothful; itunfolds its awful re- limity, either concentrated in the minutest cord over the yawning grave. Sweet, and point, or extended to the widest range, we gentle, and consoling to the pure in heart, it can derive from the Scriptures a fund of thunders and threatens against the un- gratification not to be found in any other awakened mind. Bright and joyous as the memorial of past or present time. From morning star to the benighted traveller, it the worm that grovels in the dust beneath rolls like the waters of the deluge over the our feet, to the track of the leviathan in the path of him who wilfully mistakes his way. foaming deep-from the moth that corrupts And. finally, adapting itself to every the secret treasure, to the eagle that soars shade of human character, and to every above his eyry in the clouds-from the wild grade of moral feeling, it instructs the igno- ass of the desert,- to the lamb within the rant, woos the gentle, consoles the afflicted, shepherd's fold-from the consuming locust, encourages the desponding, rouses the neg- to the cattle upon a thousand hills-from the ligent, threatens the rebellious, strikes home rose of Sharon to the cedar of Lebanonto the reprobate, and condemns the guilty. from the crystal stream gushing forth out of It may be observed, that all this might the flinty rock, to the wide waters of the have been effected without the instrumen- deluge-from the barren waste to the fruittality of the principle of poetry; and so un- ful vineyard, and the land flowing with milk questionably it might, had the Creator of and honey-from the lonely path of the the human heart seen meet to adapt it to wanderer, to the gathering of a mighty muldifferent means of instruction; but as that titude-from the tear that falls in secret, to heart is constituted, the delicate touches of the din of battle, and the shout of a trium-i feeling to be found in every part of the Holy phant host-from the solitary in the wildeiScriptures accord peculiarly with its sensi- ness, to the satrap on his throne-from the i bilities; the graceful ornaments which mourner clad in sackcloth, to the prince in adorn the language of the Bible correspond purple robes —from the gnawings of the to the impressions it has received, the ideas worm that dieth not, to the seraphic visions which have consequently been formed of of the blest —from the still small voice, to the principles of taste and beauty; and by the thunders of Omnipotence-from the no other medium that we are capable of depths of hell, to the regions of eternal conceiving, could the human heart have glory, there is no degree of beauty or debeen more forcibly assured of the truths to formity, no tendency to good or evil, no which belong eternal life. shade of darkness or gleam of light, which Hald the Bible been without its poetical does not come within the cognizance of the character, we should have wanted the voice Holy Scriptures; and therefbre there is no of an angel to recommend it to the accept- impression or conception of the mind that ance of mankind. Prone as we are to neg- may not find a corresponding picture, no lect this banquet upon which the most ex- thirst for excellence that may not meet with alted mind may freely and fully feast, we its full supply, and no condition of humanity should then have regarded it with tenfold necessarily excluded from the unlimited disdain. But such is the unlimited goodness scope of adaptation and of sympathy cornof hiin who knew from the beginning what prehended in the language and the spirit of was in the heart of man, that not only the the Bible. wide creation is so desiogned as to accord IHov ogracious then-howv wonderful, and with our vicrVs of what is mag'nificcnt and har-onitous, is that maiestic - l by which beautiful, and thus to remind us of his one ethereal principle, like an: clectric clain in glory' but even the recori of his imme- of light and life, extends through the'very L __ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ __ _ _ _. - [j 138 THE POETRY OF LIFE. elements of our existence, giving music to ing in no way essential to our spiritual language, elevation to thought, vitality to progress. Upon precisely the sanle prinfeeling, and intensity, and power, and beau- ciples it might be argued, that beauty does ty, and happiness, to the exercise of every not necessarily form any part of utility, fatulty of the human soul! and that happiness is not essential to the moral constitution of man. The same answer will apply in both cases; and it is one which ought to be sufficient for creatures of ThE POETRY OF RELIGION. limited perceptions like ourselves. It has seemed meet to the Author of our existence NoRt are the Holy Scriptures the utmost so to construct our mental and bodily funcbounr of the sphere through which poetry tions, that we shall derive pleasure from the extends. With that religion which is the principle of beauty diffused throughout the essence of the Bible, itmay also be associated. external world, and that we shall be lured The power of human intellect has never on by a perpetual thirst for. enjoyment to yet worked out from the principles of thought that which is our only true and lasting hapand feeling, a subject more sublime than piness; as well as so to constitute our perthat of an omnipotent Being presiding over ceptions and feelings that poetry shall be a universe of his own creating. There have one of our chief sources of intellectual gratibeen adventurous spirits who have dared to fication, at the same time that it is intimatesing the wonders of a world without a God, ly blended with the highest objects of our but as a proof how much they felt the desire; so that in the pursuit of ultimate and want of this higher range of poetical interest, eternal good, we have no need to resign the they have referred the creation and govern- society of this unwearying friend, whose ment of the external world to an ideal spirit companionship is a constant refreshment and of nature-a mysterious intelligence, single delight. or multiplied, smiling in the sunshine, and I would humbly refer both the\se subjects frowning in the storm, with the mock majes- to the unlimited goodness of a gracious God. ty of omnipotence. If the beauty and magnificence of the visible Again, the propensities of our nature-the creation is not essential to practical utility, low grovelling hopes and fears that agitate let us look upon it as a free gift, liberally ofthe human heart, when centred solely in fered for the promotion of our happiness; what is material, without connection with, or and if poetry does not appear to our finite reference to eternal mind, as subjects for the views to be in reality a part of religion, let genius of the poet, are robbed of half their us consider how they are associated, and interest, and all their refinement; but when gratefully acknowledge their connexion, rathe feelings which form the sum of our ex- ther than presumptuously attempt to sepaperience are regarded as the impress of the rate what the principles of our nature teach hand of our Creator, when the motives which us to unite. lead us on to action are considered as deriving We will first speak of the poetry of relitheir stimulus and strength from almighty gion as it is exhibited to the world, in some power, and when the great chain of circum- of the various modes of worship which mark stances and events which influence our lives the civil and religious history of'man. are linked in with the designs of a superin- Under the terrific rule of tyranny and tending Providence, they assume a character superstition, religion has ever been the first atonce poetical and sacred, a colouringwhich to suffer and the last to yield; and whether blends the light of heaven with the shades we contemplate the martyr at the stake, of earth, and an importance which raises singing his triumphant hymns amongst the them from what is ordinary and familiar, to circling flames; or pursue the silent devowhat is astonishing and sublime. tee to the secret recesses of the mountain, The most serious objection ever advanced or the wilderness, where the bond of Chrisagainst poetry, is that of its not necessarily tian brotherhood is strengthened and conconstituting any part of our religion, and be- firmed by the horrors of an impending fate THE POETRY OF RELIGION. 139 which threatens to leave that bond alone heard above the crackling embers, and the unbroken, of all that have sweetened and shouts cf brutal acclamation, hymning to supported lift, we see and feel, that the heaven the pure melodious strains of a might of mortal suffering, gives even to the seraphic joy. Fresh from the fount of domost humble victims of cruelty and oppres- restic peace, young, innocent bosoms have sion, a dignity which entitles them to the been torn to bleed and writhe in the centre highest place in the scale of poetical inte- of the torturing fire, and trembling with the rest.* last throbs of mortal agony, have borne So far as poetry is connected with the their unflinching testimony to the fervour exercise of fortitude, resignation, and ardent of their faith. The cry of an agonized pazeal, it is exhibited by the martyr in its holi- rent bursting from the surrounding throng, est character. Suffering even to death, may have reached the sufferer in the flames, and such a death! yet suffering triumphantly, the eye that was once the beacon of his that the glory of God may shine with addi- hopes may have glanced upon him through tional brightness before the eyes of men, the dense and thickening smoke, and and that unbelievers may behold the majesty thoughts dear as the memory of early love, and the power of the faith for which he dies. may have rushed upon his soul even there, Nor has it been always the man of iron bathing it in the tenderness of childhood, mould, of unshaken nerve, and inflexible and melting down his high resolve, which, resolve, who has died triumphant at the but for that sustaining and unquenchable stake. Creatures of delicate and gentle zeal, would yet have sent him forth a worthform have been led forth from the hall and less wreck upon the troubled ocean of life the bower, and they too have raised the cry after the promised haven had been in sight, of exultation that they were deemed worthy the pilot near, and the anchor of eternal to set the seal of suffering to the cause they hope ready to be cast for ever into the founloved. Eyes that have never dwelt save on dation which no storms can shake. Yet the fairest page of human life have gleamed even here his faith remains immoveable, out from amidst the lurid flames, and looked and he shakes off the lingering weakness up in calmness and in confidence to the of humanity, his joyful spirit already anticimercy that lies hid beyond the skies; hands pating the unbounded fruition of its promised whose gentle office had been the constant felicity. ministration of tenderness and charity, have Let us contemplate the awful scene one been clasped in fervent prayer, until they moment longer. The excitement has submingled with the ashes of the sinking pile; sided; the cry of the merciless spectators is brows around which the cherub locks of heard no more; the smoking pile becomes youth were woven, have borne the fatal one universal ruin; and the living form so ordeal, and betrayed no sign of shrinking lately quivering with the intensity of quickfrom the fiery blast; and voices whose ened and agonized sensation, is mingled sweet tones were once the natural min- with the silent dust. Are there not footstrelsy of happiness and love, have been steps lingering near that fatal spot? Are there not looks too wild for tears, still fixed In justice to herself, the writer must here observe, upon the white ashes with which the idle in speaking of the poetry of religion, how forcibly she is breezes are at play? Are there not hearts struck with what some would call the puerility of the whose inmost depths are filled with bittertask she has undertaken; because this subject necessarily brings under serious observation the all important ness, and thoughts of vengeance, and dreams truths for which we ought to be willing either to live or of impious daring, and fierce, bold scrutiny die as duty may require; and before which all intellectual considerations, even that of poetry itself, vanish into of the ways of Provideice, and presumpcomparative nothingness. She would however hope tuous questioning if these are the tender that her task may be pursued without irreverence, and mercies of the Most High? Yes; such that she may point out the poetry of religion with a distinct feeling of its weightier and more essential attri-has ever been the efect of persecution upon butes, in the same way that a beholder may expatiate the human mind, and never is the infidel so upon the architecture of a cathedral, without reference firmly fortified against conviction, as when to the purpose for which the building was originally designed and to which it is still appropriated. he contemplates the wrongs and the wretch 140 THE POETRY OF LIFE. edness which man, infuriated with a blind some the hollow bed of the wintry torrent, and superstitious zeal inflicts upon his bro- whose thundering waters have worked out ther. fjr themselves a rugged pathway down the We turn from this scene of horrors to the hills; but all are accompanied by the same aspect presented by religion under a milder deep sense of outward danger, and internal form of persecution, or rather under one peace-all have the same bright stars to whose influence is more remote, and we light them on their silent way, and the same follow a little company c4 faithful worship- spiritual help to support their weary steps. pers to their tabernacle in the mountains, They know not but the homes they are where their canopy is the starry sky, and seeking may have become a heap of ruins; their altar the rude rocks of the wilderness. but they have learned to look for an everUpon the summit of a beetling precipice, a lasting habitation where the spoiler may sentinel keeps watch, and while he looks to not come. They know not but the sword the sombre woods, the hollow caves, or the of persecution may have severed the chain dim and distant heights, if haply he may of their domestic happiness; but they feel discern the movements of an insiduous en- that every link of that chain can be reunited emy, hymns of praise and adoration are in a world of peace. They know not but heard from the congregation in the valley, the shadow of destruction may have fallen as, echoing from crag to crag, the deep full upon all that beautified and cheered their anthem of devotion rises on the evening earthly path; but they are pilgrims to a breeze. Then the devout and heartfelt better land, and they have only to press onprayer is offered up, that the true Shepherd ward in the simplicity of humble Christians, will vouchsafe to look down upon and visit and the gates of the celestial city will soon the scattered remnant of his flock, that his be won. voice may yet call them into safe pastures, Religion, stigmatized with the world's conand that he will pour out the waters of eter- tempt, and hunted from the earth by the nal life, for the support of the feeble, the powerful emissaries of public authority, is refreshment of the weary, and the consola- ever the religion of the heart and the affection of the " sore distressed." tions. Were it otherwise it could not stand It is in such scenes and circumstances, its ground; but dignity and disgrace, temthat the followers of a persecuted faith be- poral enjoyment and temporal suffering, even come indeed brethren in the fellowship of life and death, become as nothing in comChrist. Suffering in a common cause, ap- parison with that righteous cause which men prehending the same danger, and led on by feel themselves called upon faithfully to upone purpose, the vital bond of the society ex- hold before a disbelieving people, for the tends and lives through all its members. glory of God and the benefit of their fellow Discord enters not into their communion, creatures. If it be a test of the love which for the world is against them, and they can a man bears for his brother, that he will lay stand under its cruelty and oppression by no down his life for him, the test of suffering other compact than that of Christian love; must also apply to his religion; and pure and jealousy pours not its rankling venom into devoted must be the love of him, who holds their hearts, for they are hoping to attain a himself at all times in a state of readiness to felicity in which all are blest; ambition lay down the last and dearest sacrifice upsows not the seeds of selfishness amongst on the altar of his faith. Yes; that must be them, for -their reward is one that admits of love indeed, which overweighs all earthly and no monopoly —of which all may partake, natural affections, which separates the mowithout diminishilug the portion of any: and ther from her weeping child, the husband after this pure and simple worship, how sa- from his wife of yesterday, the friends who cred, how tervent is the farewell of the had been wont to take sweet counsel togeth-'brethlre on separating for their distant er, and last, but not least, which tears away home. Some have to trace the dubious the fond endearing thoughts of promised sands of the sea-beaten shore, some the happiness from the heart around which they lonely sheep-track on the mountains, and cling when it beats with the ferour of youtlh THE POETRY OF RELIGION. 1411 ful hope, and rejoices in the anticipated sun- troubled sea. We listen, and the measured shiine of bright days to come, in which the tread of sober feet is the only sound that dislovely and the loved may dwell together in turbs the silence of that sacred place-we, peace and safety even upon earth. It is not listen, till the beating of our own hearts bea light or common love that can thus sever comes audible, and we almost fear that a the strongest ties of human life, and fortify " stir- a breath" should break the slumbers the soul not only to endure all that our na- of the dead-we listen, and suddenly the ture shrinks from, but to resign all that our tremendous peal of the deep-toned organ nature teaches us to hold dear. bursts upon our ear, and sweet young voices, From the worship of the heart, we turn to like a symphony of pure spirits, join the heathat of the sanctuary-from religion robbed venly anthem as it rises in a louder strain of of its external attributes, restrained, and per- harmony, and echoes though every arch of secuted, and driven inward to the centre of the resounding pile. The anthem ceases, volition, and sealed up in the fountains of and the sound of prayer ascends from a spiritual life; to that which powerful nations thousand hearts, as variously formed as the combine to support, before which suppliant lips from whence that prayer proceeds, yet monarchs bow, and which, supreme above all uniting in the worship of' one God —all the regal sceptre, sends forth its awful and reverentially acknowledging his right to imperious mandates through distant regions reign and rule with undisputed sway. of the peopled world. Perhaps it is the hour of evening worship, We enter the magnificent and stately edi- and instead of the bright sunbeams glancfice consecrated to the worship. of a God no ing through the many-tinted windows, and I longer partially acknowledged, or reverenced penetrating into the distant recesses of the at the risk of life, and we mark the pomp cathedral pile, artificial lights of inferior lusand the ceremonial designed to recommend tre gleam out here and there, like stars in that worship to the general acceptance of the midnight sky, making the intervening mankind. Through the ricldy variegated darkness more palpable and profound. It is windows, bright beams of golden splendor the hour when "every soft and solemn inare glancing on the marble floor, and light- fluence" is poured most profusely upon the ing up the monumental tablets of departed prostrate soul, when the sordid and merceworth. Deeds of heroic virtue, long since nary cares of the day are over, and religion, lbrgotten but for that faithful record, are like an angel of peace, descends upon the dimly shadowed out upon the tombs, and troubled spirit that knows no other resting the sculptured forms that bend in silent beau- place than her sanctuary-no other shelter ty over the unbroken slumbers of the dead, than her brooding wing. It is the hour point with an awful warning to the inevitable when all our warmest, purest, and holiest doom of man. Above, around, and beneath affections gush forth like rills of sweetness us, are the storied pages on which human and refreshment, watering the verdure of' labour has inscribed the memorial of its the path of life, and producing fresh lovelipowetr-the barriers raised by art against ness, and renewed delight. It is the hour the encroachments of time-the landmarks when prayer is the natural language of the graven upon stone, which denote the intel- devoted soul, and here the humble penitent lectual progress of past ages. We gaze up- is kneeling to implore the pardon promised on the tessellated aisle, intersected with al- to the broken and contrite heart-there the ternate light and shadow, where the stately parent devoutly asks a blessing upon his facolumns, terminating in the solemn arch, mily, and his household, upon the wife of rise like tall palm trees in the desert plain, his bosom, and the children of his love — whose graceful branches meet in stately here the poor mendicant bares his pale grandeur above the head of the wayfaring brow before the eye of heaven, and stands traveller, while he pauses to bless their wel- without a blush in that presence to which come shade, and thinks how lovely are the wealth is no passport, and from which pogreen spots of verdure In the wilderness- verty affords no plea for rejection-there the the fertile islands that beautify a waste and rich arbitrer of magisteriallaw, humbly bends P1422 THE POETRY OF LIFE. his knee, and acknowledges, that without iational enjoyment, and believing this imthe sanction of divine authority the judg- molation of his nature is'he sacrifice his God ment of man must be vain, and his sentence requires, pledges himself to the same abstivoid —here the miserable outcast from soci- nence, the same penance, and the same ety, glides unnoticed along the silent aisle, abasement through all the long years of his and bending beneath the shadow of a mar- after-life. ble column, bathes her hollow cheek with It is not, most assuredly, to the nature of tears whose sincerity is unquestioned here- such worship, that we would accord the there the gaily habited, admired, and che- meed of poetical merit; but to the earnestrished idol of the same society folds her ness, the sincerity, the total dedication of white hands upon her bosom, and feels the heart, which its votaries display, and which deep aching void which religion alone is might sometimes bring a blush of shame sufficient to supply-here the rosy lips of upon the less devoted followers of a more cherub infancy lisp the words of prayer, enlightened faith. more felt than comprehended amidst the aw- Nor is the simplicity of a less ostentatious ful grandeur of that solemn scene; and form of worship inferior in its accordance there the wrinkled brow of age is illumi- with the true spirit of poetry. There is not nated with the overpowing brightness of much to fix the gaze of the beholder in the anticipated joy, while feeble accents, broken quiet congregation of a village church, or by the tremors of infirmity and pain, tell of in the little band of lowly suppliants who the gladness of renovated life. bend the knee within the walls of the conIt is this variety of sight and sound, min- venticle, and listen to the impassioned elogled together into one scene, and united in quence, bursting in extemporaneous fervour, the same holy purpose, which constitutes a from the lips of the humble labourer in the harmony so true to the principles of human vineyard, whose reward is not the gift of nature, as well as to the character and attri- sordid gain, but the soul-sustaining conbutes of the Divine Being, and the relation sciousness of walking in the ways of truth, between him and his lowly and erring and yielding the tribute of obedience where creatures, that we cannot contemplate such simply to obey is to enjoy. There is not worship without aspiring to partake in its much to interest the mere spectator in such reality-we cannot feel its reality without a scene; but there is much to cheer the being raised higher in the scale of spiritual spirit of the philanthropist in the contemplaenjoyment. tion of the earnest zeal, the strict integrity, If, retiring from this scene, we follow the and the devotional fervour which inspires penitent to his secret cell, we behold him this staunch adherence to what conscience lacerating his bleeding limbs, and torturing points out as a better way than that estabout what he believes to be the demon of his lished by former ages, supported by national natural heart; or we watch him through the authority, and persevered in by thousands tedious hours of solitary musing, when the from a blind partiality for old customs and sun is shining upon the walls of his con- familiar forms. vent, upon the green flowery valley where Far be it from the writer of these pages, it stands, and upon the glancing waters of a to draw invidious comparisons between one river whose pure fresh streams glide on with creed and another, or to join the public voice a perpetual melody, through woods, and which makes destruction rather than edifigroves, the verdant beauty of whose mazy cation the object of its tumultuous outcry. labyrinths look like the chosen walks of Whatever is the subject of popular belief, wandering angels. While the bright sun is or the common ground on which mankind shining upon a scene, the pale monk sits concentrate their energies and hopes, it brooding over the transgressions of his argues the proper exercise of moral feeling, youth, and counting a never-varying circle when those who dissent from such belief of dull beads; or, stooping his cold forehead have the courage and integrity to avow that to the stony floor, he closes every avenue of dissent in the face of a disapproving world — THE POETRY OF RELIGION. 143 when those who depart from such ground, his own soul, when suddenly the couch of do so in Christian love, and charity, and suffering is converted into one of triumph. with full purpose of heart. He who cannot read, can feel the words of It is when entertaining these views of life; and joyfully he clasps his trembling moral rectitude, that we behold with pecu- hands in full assurance of an immortality liar interest a congregation of schismatical from whose inexhaustible happiness, the worshippers, and even if we cannot join in poor, the despised, and the needy are not the peculiar form of their devotional duties, shut out. we can at least rejoice that there are inde- Or we turn to the cottage of the lonely pendent minds, ready to shake off the bond- widow who has lost the sole prop of her deage of established opinion, and freely and dining years, whose children are distant or fully to acknowledge whatever they con- dead, who sit from morn till night in the siscientiously believe to be the truth, making lence of her desolate home, pursuing the the testimony of their own faith supreme same monotonous range of limited and above the authorities of this world, and. painful thought —looking alternately from preferring the service of God before the her narrow lattice upon the wide bare surgracious countenance of men. face of-the distant hills, or back again to the There are cases too, when this system of white ashes that lie upon her silent hearth. worship comes home to the affections of the It is to such a being (and there are many people unprovided for by the established whose existence is a little more enlivened religion of the land. There are obscure and by mental or spiritual excitement) that the isolated beings, dwelling in remote or thinly social prayer meeting becomes an object of peopled districts, by whom the sound of the intense and incalculable enjoyment, the comSabbath bell is seldom heard, and to whom munion of fellow Christians a living and the welcome visitation of a Christian min- lasting consolation, and the record of divine ister would scarcely be known, but for the truth the source of vital interest and depilgrim preacher, who penetrates, not only light. into the solitary cottage of the herdsman on There are in the darkest and most dethe mountain, but into the lowest haunts of graded walks of life, coarse, blind votaries savage life, where, instead of the simplicity of mere animal gratification, outcasts from of pastoral innocence, he finds the brutality the pale of intellectual as well as moral felof rustic vice. Nor must we judge of the lowship, gross bodily creatures, who sink announcement of a village prayer meeting, the character of man beneath the level of or the appearance of an itinerant preacher, the brute-men whose haunts are the polby what we ourselves should feel, if com- luted habitations of guilt and shame, whose pelled to listen to his wild eloquence, stirring feelings are seared with the brand of public up the unsophisticated mind to enthusiasm, infamy, and whose souls are blasted with if not to pure devotion. We must picture the contagion of lawless thoughts and desthe poor and destitute old man, infirm and picable purposes, and passions uncontrolled. helpless, racked with pain, and trembling By such men the paths that lead to the on the brink of the grave, weary of life, yet house of prayer are more despised than the dreading the darkness and the uncertainty of gates of hell, and rather than seek the pardeath, his anguish never soothed by the don of an offended God, they impotently voice of kindness, nor his heart enlightened defy his power. But at the same time that by the words of comfort or instruction. We they are boasting of their recklessness, and must picture him day after day, and night making an open parade of the impious prosafter night, the sleepless, restless victim of titution of their souls, the worm that dieth lassitude and disease, without a thought not has begun its irresistible operation upon beyond the narrow bounds of his miserable their hearts, and the darkness and horror hovel, or a feeling separate from the pangs which surrounded them in their solitary that torture his emaciated frame. To such hours assume a tenfold gloom. They hear an one, perhaps the wandering minister of religion, and they hate the name; but imparts the sanguine hope that animates with their hate is mingled a secret trust in 144 THE POETRY OF LIFE. its efficacy to remove the intolerable burden tunity of making the experiment beccrrie under which they groan. They scorn to more weary of continued repose than of join the congregation of openly professing continued exertion. Still the pining of the worshippers, though but to hear the nature heart is ever after some portion of natural of religion explained; but without implicat- and necessary rest, and the Sabbath, where ing themnselves, they can go forth into the it is regarded with right feelings, affords a open fields to listen to, and mock the less beautiful and perfect exemplification of the authorized enthusiast, pouring his unpre- provision made byour Heavenly Father, to meditated eloquence upon the wondering meet the wants and the wishes of humanity. ears of thousands, who would not have lis- Those pitiable beings whose mental existened to his voice elsewhere. And such are tence is supported by a perpetual succession the means by which the hardened sinner is of excitements, are wholly incapable of connot unfrequently awakened from his gross ceiving what the Sabbath is to the meand brutal sleep, the outcasts from the so- chanic, the labourer, or even to the man of ciety drawn back within the wholesome business, whose heart is with his family, limitations of a decent life, and the repro- while his head and hands are occupied in bate reclaimed from the dangerous error of the daily traffic of mercantile affairs. To his ways. such a man the Sabbath is indeed a day of Nor let the more enlightened Christian refreshment, as well as rest-a day in despise such humble means, whose chief which he can listen to the prattle of his merit is their unbounded extent, added to almost unknown children, and look into their their adaptation to extreme cases, and opening minds, and cultivate a short-alas, whose efficacy, proved by the observation too short acquaintance with the sources of of every day, is a sufficient warrant for their domestic happiness-it is a day on which he lawfulness. With the too frequent abuse of can enter into the free unreserved companthese means, poetry holds no connection; ionship of his own fireside, and, feeling that but it is their least recommendation to say, he has a possession in the esteem and the that poetry is intimately associated with approbation of those around him, in the their power to awaken the dormant energies moral rights of man, in the institutions of of the mind, to penetrate the heart, and religion, and in the heritage of an immortal mingle with the affections, and to let in the creature, he aspires to a higher and more glorious light of immortality upon the be- intellectual state of being than that absorbed nighted soul. in the continual pursuit of wealth. If then Of all the public ordinances of our reli- he loves the Sabbath, it is not merely begion, that which appoints one day in seven cause it relieves him from the necessity of for a season of rest, is perhaps the most pro- laborious exertion, but because it makes him ductive of poetical association, and as such a wiser and a better man. has ever been a favourite theme with the The mechanic has the same reason, and imaginative bard. In a world such as we the same right to welcome this day. Indeed inhabit, and with a bodily and mental confor- it seems to be the peculiar privilege of those mation like ours, it is natural that rest who spend their intervening hours in toil should become (especially in advanced and trouble, to appreciate the enjoyment of age) the object of our continual desire, and the Sabbath, so far as it affords them an inthat regarding it superficially, as it appears terval of cessation from irksome cares. to us in the midst of the cares and perplexi- Rightly to enjoy, and fully to appreciate the ties of ordinary life, we should learn to value of the Sabbath, requires the associaspeak of it as our chief good; although it is tion of a higher range of thought and feelprobable that in a purer sphere, and endowed ing, such as religion alone can supply. with renovated powers of action and per- If in the busy town, and for those who ception, we should find that constant activity tread the beaten paths of life, there is much was more productive of enjoyment. Even to interest the heart in the recurrence of the here, the word rest is one of comparative Sabbath-in the chiming of innumerable signification, for those who have an oppor- bells at stated intervals of public worship, in F_ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ___ J THE POETRY OF RELIGION. 145 the gathering of vast multitudes assembled athwart the beams of the declining sun. for one common purpose, and that the holiest Perhaps it is a venerable parent who has of which our mortal nature is capable, and been quietly translated to his place of rest, in the general aspect of sobriety, order, and and the tears of the surrounding mourners profound respectwhich pervades the thickly- fall into the grave without bitterness, and peopled city, how much more is to be felt almost without regret; for the poor have where man exists in a state of greater simn- happier thoughts of the last call anncuncing plicity, in the rude home of the peasant, the termination of mortal suffering, than or in those little groups of humble dwellings those whose progress through this world gemming the fertile plain, in the midst of is less interrupted with hardship, toil, and which the tall village spire rises and points pain. to heaven. It is not here as in the city, But it is quite as possible that the lifeless that the loud peal of many bells announces' form for which that bier is spread, should the hour of'prayer, but the singlebell tolling have been the rustic beauty of the fair and at intervals, is converted into music by the the festival, the pride of the village the fresh pure morning air, and the many simple belle who bore away the palm of admiration and delightful associations connected with from her less lovely sisters who now stand that well-known sound. Perhaps a beloved weeping by her side, without one touch of and revered minister is there to welcome envy, or one wish, except to call her back to his people once again within the fold of trace again the flowery meadows, to sing Christian communion; families separated by her songs of native melody, and to meet the occupations of the week, now meet to them with her ever-beaming smile of youth offer up their fervent prayers together; the and joy. But it may not be. And she who the village pauper stands upon the same was so fondly cherished, so tenderly beloved, foundation as the village lord, and looks so flattered and admired, is consigned to upward with the same calm countenance to the cold prison of the tomb, and left to the meet the light of heaven; the comely-habited unbroken silence of her solitary sleep. maiden closes the wicket of her father's With the Sabbath evening in the village, garden, and hastens at the universal call; are connected a thousand agreeable associwhile the feeble steps of infancy and age, ations, which those who are not alive to the blending their weakness and their humble true poetry of life, are unable to enjoy. Nor confidence together, are heard slowly advan- is it the least portion of the satisfaction afcing along the solemn aisle. No sooner is forded by this day, to see the cattle that the simple service ended, than a cordial re- have borne their share in the labour of the cognition takes place between the pastor week, without participating in its reward, and his congregation, and often between browsing in the cool pastures, or resting those who meet too seldom-the rich and the their toil worn limbs upon the sunny slopes poor-the exalted and the lowly: and kind of the verdant hills. The shady lanes questions are asked of the suffering or the around the village afford shelter and reabsent, followed by visits of Christian love, freshment to many a persecuted animal that and words of consolation, to those who are knows no other day of rest; and as we pass debarred the privilege of meeting their along, we see groups of rosy children wanbrethren and their friends within the con- dering hand in hand in quest of wild flowers, secrated walls of the church. or the purple fruit of the bramble, which It is on these days, that throurgh the still- seems to be the only unalienable property ness of the summer air, we often hear the of childhood; or we meet with fanlilies mournful cadence of distant and harmoni- going half-way home with a beloved son or ous voices, singing at intervalk. their low daughter, whose pertion of servitude is now sweet requiem over the bier of a departed cast in some distant hamlet, from. whence friend, as they bear him to his last long the occasional return is an ever cf ong home beneath the outstretched arms of the promise, and widely participated joy. sheltering elms, that skirt the precincts of Around the open door of the peasant are the dead, and cast their sombre shadows other groups of more infantine beauty, and 10 146 THE POETRY OF LIFE. as the father stands beside them, with the fiery passions of' youth, subduing the stubBible in his hand, the fond mother looks born will, softeninog lown the asperities of alternately at him and them, as if the whole nature, and mingling with the springs of wealth of' her existence were centered in earthly feeling the pure, inexhaustible wathese her household treasures; while retir- ters of eternal life.,ng into somne quiet nook of' the cottage or Hovw would the fond mother endure with:he garden, the little patient pupil of Sab- fortitude the sad farewell, that separates the bath discipline carefully cons his lesson for son of her hopes from the genial atmosphere the comincg week. Farther on within a of domestic peace, if she did not in her neatly trimmed enclosure, where the red heart consign him to the more judicious daisy, and the dark green box, mark out care of his heavenly Father? or how would the boundary lines surrounding the rose she send him forth alone to trace his distant tree, the sweet briar, and the climbing hon- and dubious pathway through the w'ldereysuckle, stands the quiet habitation of an ness of life, but for her faith in the guiding ancient dame, who diligently spells out the hand which she implores to direct him meaning of the sacred page, in uninterrupted through its manifold temptations, to lead loneliness and peace. In the distance we him safely through its dangers, and bring hear the sound of many voices joining in him back to her yearning bosom unspotted hymns of prayer and praise-the old and from the world. It is the internal support the young —the feeble and the firm, raised derived fiom religion that nerves her for the together in one delightful symphony of gra- trial, and reconciles her to the after hours titude and love: and if scattered here and of watchfulness and care, when she may there, we find little companies of the idle, look in vain for tidings from the wanderer, the thoughtless, or thle gay, they are still and calculate with fruitless anticipation upon those whose outward decency-whose fresh the hour of his return. bright looks of health and happiness, evince It is the same feeling of religion not una respect for the Sabbath, and a participa- frequently excited to enthusiasm, that tears tion in its universal calm. away the youthful devotee from all the joys It is after the contemplation of scenes like of nature, and the endearments of domestic these, that we return to our homes, more love j clothing her fair forehead in the mournhappy in the thought, that the young have ful vestments of monastic gloom, and shatheir serious moments, the widely separated dowing the young cheek from which the their time of meeting, the ignorant their last rose has faded, with the sable pall of a seasons of instruction, the old their consola- premature and living death. tion, and the weary their day of rest. It is religion too that steals upon the soul It is not however to the public offices of of the contemplative student, and lures him religion, that its poetical interest is confined. him away from the haunts of convivial If we look into the private walks of life, we mirth, from the excitement of the flowing behold this powerful principle working the bowl, and from the ambition of the sordid or most important revolutions in the moral the gay, to devote the highest powers and character of man-if into the midst of fami- energies of his mind to the edification of his lies, we find it severing or uniting the firm- fellow creatures, and the spring time of his est links of natural connexion-giving so- existence to the service of his God. lemnity to the sad parting-over the glad It is this support which keeps alive the meeting after long separation diffusing a hope of the heart-stricken wife, as she purholy joy-imparting reverence to the attri- sues her reprobate husband through the butes of age-purity and happiness to the dark windings of his sinful course, wooing cheerful smiles of childhood-and presiding him back with her unfailing gentleness to with its sanctifying influence over all the the comforts of his home, watching over him different offices of duty, and charity, and in his unguarded moments, with the balm love-or if we look into the human heart, it of Christian consolation ever ready for his is here that religion is seen controlling the hour of need, and supplicating with incessant THE POETRY OF RELIGION. 147 prayers, that a stronger arm than hers may which must inevitably follow, openly and be stretched out to arrest the progress of freely tells the truth. Sometimes a single' his erring steps. falsehood, or a mere evasion would save the Wi ithout this active and living principle, little culprit from the pain of public ignooperating upon the various dispositions of miny, from the fury of a tyrant master, and mankind, we should never witness those from the punishment that, even in anticipainstances of self denial in the cause of vir- tion, checks the warm current of his youthful tue, which afford the strongest evidence of blood, and sends a shivering thrill through the all-sustaining efficacy of religion. How, every nerve and fibre of his trembling frame. for instance, would the compassionate mai- But he has been instructed by parents whose den find strength to reject her worthless word he cannot doubt, to believe that there lover, because the stain of guilt was upon is a good and gracious God looking down his brow, and because his spirit refused to upon the children of earth, caring for their bow down and worship at the altar of her sufferings, listening to their prayers, teachGod, if the claims of duty were not para- ing them his holy law, and encouraging mount to those of affection? And yet such them to regard the performance of it above things have been; and warm, young hearts, all the enjoyments afforded by the world; whose cords of happiness were rent asunder and knowing that a strict adherence to the by the fierce and fiery trial, have chosen for truth is one of the essential points of that themselves a solitary lot, separate and dis- law, the penitent child, even with the tears tinct from the sphere of their long cherished of anguish on his cheek, pronounces the deenjoyments, and have dwelt in peace and cisive word of truth which seals his senresignation under the guiding influence of tence upon earth-the word which rejoicing the one divine light, by which all others, angels bear to the courts of heaven, as the from whence they had ever derived hope or richest tribute humanity can lay before the gladness were extinguished. throne of its Creator. Yes; and the man of strong affections, These are but single instances, chosen whose downward tendency in the career of out from a mass of evidence, clearly proving worldly occupation, had reduced a tender that religion in its influence upon the affecwife and helpless children to the last extreme tions, in its intimate connexion with those of poverty and wretchedness, has been important scenes and circumstances of life, visited with powerful temptation in his hour from which we derive the greatest pain or of weakness, when his perceptions of right pleasure, in short, in its supreme dominion and wrong were so confused with bodily and over the human heart, is, above all other mental suffering, that the limitations of subjects, that which possesses the highest moral good seemed to be yielding to the claim to the regard of the poet; not only as encroachments of physical evil, when the being most productive of _ntellectual gratiwants of his starving family were bursting fication, but most worthy of him who aspires forth in audible and heart-rending appeals to the right exercise of the loftiest attributes for which he had no answer, when the sha- of mind. dows of despair fell around him, and squalid A superficial view of religion may lead to misery encircled his cold hearth. And he the popular and vulgar notion, that its practoo has stood his ground, strong in the con- tical duties are incompatible with true refinefidence that real good, or lasting happiness, ment of feeling, and elevation of thought; never yet was purchased by the sacrifice of but is not that the most genuine refinement virtuous rectitude. which penetrates into the distant relations of But if we measure the strength of the things, and cements, by mental association, principle by the weakness of the agent it the visible and material-the familiar or! inspires, we would point out, above all other the gross, with powerful impressions of morinstances of its operative power, that in al excellence, and beauty, and happiness 2 which a child looks boldly in the face of au- Is not that the most elevated range of thought thority, and daring the retributive judgment which combines the practical and temporal 148 THE POETRY OF LIFE. affairs of men, with the eternal principles might be averted? How would he solemupon which the world is established and nize the vow, or seal the blessing, or ratify governed? the curse, without the sanction of divine anWe know of nothing that can so fully and thority? or how might his soul aspire to the so beautifully adorn the ordinary path of life, sublime, without expanding its wings in the as religion; because it imparts a spiritual es- regions of eternity? sence to all our customary actions and pur- No; there is nothing which the poet need suits, in which the slightest portion of good reject in the religion of the Bible, or the and evil is involved. We can imagine no- religion of the heart; but rather let him seek thing to exceed in tenderness the merciful its benignant and inspiring influence, as a dealing of our heavenly Father with his er- light to his genius, a stimulus to his imaginring and rebellious creatures; and as there is ation, a guide to his taste, a fire to his arnothing to equal the perfection of the Divine dour, an impetus to his power, and a world character, so there is no sublimity comparable thrown open to his enjoyment. to that of his nature. Nor is this all. WVe have said that poetry must come home to: our own bosoms in order to be truly felt, and religion teaches us that we have a portion IMPRESSION. in everlasting life-an inheritance in eternity-that the hopes and the fears which stim- HITEERTO we have bestowed our attention ulate our actions, the powers and the ener- upon what essentially belongs to poetry, as gies with which we are endowed, are not a medium for receiving and imparting the merely given us for the brief purposes of highest intellectual enjoyment. We noi temporal existence-to play their little part come to the qualifications for composing upon this sublunary stage —to animate frail poetry-the fundamental characteristics of creatures that must perish in the tomb, but the poet. All persons of cultivated underas links woven in with the great chain of standing, endowed with an ordinary share being to be unfolded in a sphere without of sensibility, are more or less capable of limitations, in a "world without end." feeling what is poetical; but that all, even We would not depreciate the freeness, and amongst those who attempt it, are not equal the fulness of the benefits of religion, by say- to writing poetry, is owing to their deficiency ing that the poet has a participation in their in some or all of the following qualificadelights, beyond that enjoyed by others; be- tions:-capacity of receiving deep imprescause we reverently.believe the nature of sions - imagination - power - and taste. religion to be such as to adapt it to every These qlualifications we shall now consider understanding, render it available in every separately, beginning with the first, which condition of humanity, and sustaining, and for want of a better term, I have called consolatory to every heart. But we have no impression. hesitation in pronouncing it impossible for We have already seen how poetry derives the poet to reach the same intellectual height, its existence from the association of ideas, without the aid of religion, as when he soars as well as how such associations must arise on angels' wings up to the gates of heaven out of impressions, and it follows as a natu-to touch the strings of human feeling so ral consequence, that if this be necessary to powerfully, as when his hand is bathed in enable a man to feel poetry, it is still more the pure fountains of eternal truth. so to qualify him for writing it. Impressions How for instance would he expatiate up- are, in fact, the secret fund from whence the on 0eauty or excellence, if they had no arche- poet derives his most brilliant thoughts-the i types in heaven? How would he describe material with which he works, the colouring i the calamities which tear up the root of do- in which he dips his pencil when he paints I mestic peace, and agonize the tortured bo- -the inexhaustible fountain to which he apsom, if neither prayer nor appeal were wrung plies for the simplicity of nature, and the out by such wretchedness, and directed to force of truth. a spriritual power by whom the calamity We have before observed, that it is im IMPRESSION. 149 possible to trace a great proportion of our fields-and so on, until at last the idea of associations to their original source, because number loses all limitation, and the child we cannot recall the impressions made upon conceives for the first time, that of infinity. our mind in infancy; but we know that in From the contemplation of a widely exthat early stage of life. when we were most tended view, we have unqustionably dealive to sensation, all the impressions which rived our notion of space. Why this idea, we did receive, must have been connected arising out of an incalculable numoer of with pain or pleasure, and that hence arise objects, in themselves ordinary and familiar, preference and antipathy, hope and fear, should obtain the character of sublime, it is love and hatred. VWe have the authority not easy to determine, unless it be that the of Dr. Johnson, as well as that of our own same expansion of mind is as necessary to observation for asserting, that children are receive these two impressions, as to contemnot naturally grateful, and from the history plate the nature of unlimited power, which of man in a barbarous state, we learn that is universally accompanied with sensations he is not naturally honest. The reason is, of awe, and sometimes of terror. that both the infant and the savage have Duration is generally the last which the received pleasure from self-indulgence, but mind receives of these impressions, and not from the exercise of any moral duty; when extended to eternity, it is the most and therefore it is evident that greater matu- important. This idea does not arise like rity of mind is necessary for the formation that of infinity, from objects of calculation, of those ideas which arise out of impresiioins nor like power, from any connexion with made by the social intercourse of ma.nkind. impulse or sensation; but steals quietly upYet in a very early state of existence Awe are on the mind from deep and earnest meditacapable of deriving more simple ideas from tion, sometimes upon objects which have impressions whose strength and durability existed from time immemorial, sometimes constitute the riches of the poet. upon those which will exist for ages yet to Perhaps the first of this description is, the come. We gaze upon the ivied walls of idea of power, naturally arising in the mind the ruined edifice, whose very structure of a child, from the bodily force by which its bears evidence of the different manners, most violent attempts at resistance are customs and occupations of those who once easily overcome. But in order to be deeply surrounded the now deserted hearth. We impressed with this idea, it is necessary that walk into the spacious banqueting-room we should have witnessed some manifesta- whose walls once echoed to the songs of tion of power beyond the reach of man's ut- festivity or triumph, and there the bat holds most capabilities, and this we behold in the nightly converse with the owl. We listen tremendous violence of the winds, the rage to the rush of the evening breeze amongst of the ocean, the cataract, or the volcano. the deep dark foliage of the firmly-rooted The idea of number multiplied to infinity trees, which have arisen out of seeds scatcomes next, and this it is reasonable to sup- tered by the wandering winds amongst the pose may originate in the contemplation of- desolation of fallen magnificence. Eventhen the stars. We may not be able to recall to the pile must have been a ruin, and we see our remembrance the time when our own by the broken pillar whose base is buried in minds were first awakened to a conception the earth, what an accumulation of matter of the splendour of the heavens; but we time must have strewn around it, to inise have an opportunity of observing in others the level of the surrounding earth, Irom its the rapt and astonished gaze with which foundation to its centre. We look through Ihey first regard the stars in reference to the wide yawning aperture that seenio to their number, and how the opening mind have been a richly-ornamented window, expands as one after another of these and there, where the gallant knigl.t onllc nightly suns rises, and dawns upon it-first laid his conquering sword at the feet of seen in separate points of light-then in smiling beauty, where the minstrel tuned his groups-then multitudes-then fields span- lyre, and sung the praise of heroes now forgotgled all over with shining glory-then wider ten, where the snow white hand of the court 150 THE POETRY OF LIFE. ly dame was wont to rest as she looked forth irreverent language, and the lc w attributes, upon the sloping lawn, marking the long by which the majesty of the Di tine Being:s shadows of the stately trees, of which nei- too frequently nsulted. ther root nor branch remain; now the rude If we might so speak without presumpnettle rears his head, the loose bramble tion, we should say, that God, jealous of his waves in the wind that whistles through the own honour, had chosen in this instance, broken arch, birds of dark omen, inhabitants sometimres to baffle the ingenuity of man, of desolation, pass to and fro on dusky wing, by first throwing open to the human mind, and the loathsome toad, and poisonous ad- the contemplation of his attributes, and then der creep in amongst the shattered fragments by his own appointed means, inscrutable to of sculptured stone and mouldering marble, our perceptions, concentrating them all in to find themselves a hiding place and a home. one sublime and ineffable thought, which As we contemplate all this, the mind is natu- flashes through the brain like a quickening rally carried back to the time when these fire, and bursts upon the soul with the light emblems of decay had their beginning. Ve of life. think that there were ruins then; that I would still be understood to speak poetiages still more remote had theirs; and thus cally. I know that there are modes of reaas we travel through the dim obscurity of soning by which men of sound understandpre-existent time, our retrospective view at ing must almost necessarily arrive at a belength fades and is lost in the sublime idea lief in the existence of a God. But rational of uncreated power. evidence, and the evidence of sensation, are Or we look onward from the present time two different things. We often assent to -on —on, to a mysterions futurity, when we facts of which we do not feel the truth. and ours shall be forgotten. We cannot And it is this feeling as it gives vitality to build up without reflecting that there is also belief, that I would call the impression from a time to pull down, and in laying the foun- which we derive the most lasting and disdation of an edifice, or in witnessing its erec- tinct idea of a God. Yet at the same time tion, it is natural to ask, " Where shall I be that I speak of such impressions as evidence, when of these stones not one remains upon which the Divine Being vouchsafes to give another?" We plant the sapling oak, and us of' his own existence, I speak of them watch it year by year, slowly extending in only as corroborating evidence following its circumference and its height, and we that of reason, and of no sort of value where think of the time when children now unborn they directly contradict it. Separate from shall play beneath its shade, when we shall the mental process by which the idea is first have been gathered to the only place of conceived, this evidence refers rather to the earthly rest, and when the very soil in which state of the mind as a recipient; and such that tree is planted, shall have become the impressions as are here spoken of poetically, property of those who never heard our may therefore, exist independent of rational names. It is by extending such reflections conviction. Without such conviction, howas these ad infinitum, that imagination ever, they are liable to lead to the most egrepasses from small to great, from infancy to gious and fatal errors, but with it they esage, and from time to eternity; and thus we tablish truth, and render it indelible. form all the idea that we are capable of It is of much less importance to the poet, conceiving of that which has no beginning, than to the philosopher, whether imp-esand can never end. sions of this abstract nature, arise out cf the There is one other mental conception — immediate operation of divine power, or the idea of a God, intimately connected with from a combination of conclusions previously those here specified, which mankind have drawn, which the mind is often able to endeavoured by every means, natural and make use of without being aware of their artificial, reasonable and absurd, pleasing existing in any rational or definite form, and and terrible, to introduce into the mind, be- which we can never fully understand, unless fore the mind is prepared for receiving it; the study of the human mind should be reand hence follow the unworthy notions> the duced to a practical science. The poet __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _______, ~ __________.1 —~~ IMPRESSION. 151 may often use expressions which accord with sensible that this motive must give place to the former notion, just as he would describe others of a more remote and abstract nature. the hand of' Omnipotence covering the With the first impressions of pain anal pleamountains with eternal snow, hut let us sure, we learned to separate evil fiont good. hope that he is wise enough seriously to en- Wle now learn that there is a deeper evil to tertain the latter; and if sometimes he which pleasure is frequently the prelude, makes a sudden transition from effects to and a higher good which can sometimes oncauses, without regarding the intermediate ly be attained by passing through a medium space, let us do him the justice to believe of pain. that it is from the very sublimity of his own Our first strong impressions of a moral nagenius, which stoops not to take cognizance ture are of beauty and excellence. We of means, but rather in searching out the should call beauty merely physical, did it principles of sensation, thought, and action, not comprehend what belongs to fitness and plunges at once into the fountain of life, and harmony, as well as to colour and form. refers immediately to the great first Cause. In all that is exquisite in art we are struck Thus the full and entire conviction of the with the idea of beauty in connexion with being of a God, may come upon us pre- others; as, with all that is magnificent in cisely as God pleases, and force itself upon nature we combine with the same idea, those our hearts in the way which he sees meet to of motion or sound, form or colour, light or appoint. Galen is said to have received shade, splendour or majesty, utility or powthis impression from unexpectedly meeting er; but we are perhaps never more imin his solitary walks with a human skeleton; pressed with mere beauty than when conand just as easily may the infidel be re- templating a flower-gorgeous in its colour claimed from his ignorance by any other as the resplendent heavens-pure in its means adapted to the peculiar tone and whiteness as the winter's snow. The eye temper of his own mind-by the chanting that can gaze without admiration upon a of a hymn, or the peal of rolling thunder- flower, deserves to be prematurely dim; for by the prayer of an innocent child, or the what is there on earth more infencely beaudestruction of a powerful nation-by the tiful! and yet how frail! so that scarcely gathering of the plenteous harvest or the does tile breath of praise pass over it, than desolation of the burning desert-by the its delicate petals begin to droop, and its faded beauty of a falling leaf, or the splen- stein that once stood proudly in the field dour of the starry heavens-by the secret or the garden, bends beneath the fading glory anguish of the broken spirit, or by accumu- which it bears. Yet the same flower, suplated honours and unmerited enjoyment- ported by the hand of nature, and sheltered by the blessings of the poor, or the denun- beneath her maternal wing, burst forth in ciations of the powerful-by the visitations the wilderness, where we are too delicate of divine love, or by the terrors of eternal to tread, opened its gentle eye full underjudgment —in short, by the natural sensa- neath the sunbeams from which we turn tions of pain or pleasure, arising from any away, rested on the thorns which startle us of the causes immediate or remote, by at every step, poured forth its odours upwhich the attributes of Deity may be forced on the blast from which we shrink, drank in upon the perceptions of the soul, and con- the dews which chill our coarser natures, encentrated in the idea of one indivisible, and dured the darkness of the solitary night from omnipotent Being. which we fly with terror, and derived its Subsequent to the idea of a God, arise nourishment from the common earth, which distinct perceptions of moral duty-of what we spurn, until we learn to value thle latest we owe to him as the creator and preserver friend whose arms are open to receive us. of the world, as well as the founder of the Excellence, like beauty, is of kinds s- valaws by which our lives ought to be regu- rious, and degrees so numerous, that it is lated. We have before observed that, im- only by a combination of impressions that mediate self-gratification is the earliest mno- we arrive at the idea of excellence in its abtive upon which we act, but we now become stract nature; but when once formed, it con 52 THE POETRY OF LIFE. stitutes the point of reference, and the cli- essential to the poet, were it possible that max of all that we admire and love; and any human being, even of moderately cultherefore it is of the utmost importance to tivated understanding, commanding the use the poet, that his standard of excellence of language, and acquainted with the prinshould not only be acknowledged as such by ciples of taste, should have been so entirely the enlightened portion of mankind, but that excluded from all contemplation of what is it should be as high as the human mind can admirable, both in the external world and in reach, and at the same time so deeply graven human nature, as to have conceived no Just'upon his own heart, that neither ambition, idea either of physical or moral beauty. It hope, nor fear, nor any other passion or af- is however of immense importance to the fection to which he is liable, can obliterate poet that he should have formed an early the impression, or supplant it by another. and intimate acquaintance with subjects All our ideas of intellectual as well as regarded as poetical by the unanimous moral good are of a complex nature, arising opinion of mankind-that he should have not so much out of impressions made by gazed upon the sunset until his very sou. things themselves, as by their relations, as- was rapt in the blaze of its golden glorysociations, and general fitness or unfitness that he should have lived in the quiet smile one to another; hence it follows that the of the placid moon, and looked up to the mind must be naturally qualified for receiv- stars of night, until he forgot his own idening decided impressions of simple ideas, so tity, and became like a world of light as afterwards to make use of them, in draw- amongst the shining host-that he should ing clear deductions, by comparing them have watched the silvery flow of murmuring one with another, and combining them to- water, until his anxious thoughts of present gether. How, for instance, would the poet things were lulled to rest, and the tide of describe the general influence of evening memory rolled on, pure, and clear, and hartwilight, if he had never really felt its tran- monious, as the woodland stream-that he quillizing power as it extends over the ex- should have listened to the glad voices of ternal world, and reaches even to the heart? the birds of spring, until his own was minor how would he be able to convey a clear gled with the universal melody of nature, idea of the virtue of gratitude, if he had never and strains of gratitude and joy burst forth known the expansion of generous feeling, from his overflowing heart-that he should the ardent hope of imparting happiness, and have seen the woods in their summer vesture the disappointment of finding that happiness of varied green, and felt how beautiful is unappropriated, or received with contempt? the garment of nature-that he should have That there are men of common percep- found the nest of the timid bird, and obtions, who "travel from Dan to Beersheba," served how tender its maternal love, and saying that all is barren, and that there are how wonderful is the instinct with which the men of more than ordinary talent, who, de- frailest creatures are endowed-that he ficient neither in imagination, power, nor should have stood by the wave-beaten shore taste, are yet unable to write poetry, is when a galley with full sails swept along evidently owing to their want of capability the foaming tide, and impressed upon the forreceiving livelyimpressions; for wherever tablet of his heart a perfect picture of masuch impressions exist, with sufficient irna- jesty and grace-that he should have witgination to arrange and combine them so as nessed the tear of agony exchanged for the to create fresh images, with power to em- smile of hope, and acknowledged-feelingly body them in forcible words. and taste to acknowledged, how blessed are the tender render those words appropriate and pure, offices of mercy-that lie should have heard either poetry itself, or highly poetical prose, the cry of the oppressed, and seen the must be the natural language of such a breaking of their chains, with the inmost mind. chords of his heart's best feelings thrilling We should say that opportunity for re- at the shout of liberty-that he should have ceiving agreeable impressions, as well as trembled beneath the desolating storm, and capacity for receiving them deeply, was hailed the opening in the tempestuous clouds IMAGINATION 153 from which the mild radiance of returning has been possessed, in an eminent degree, peace looked down-that he should have of the faculty of receiving and remembering bent over the slumbering infant, until his impressions. imagination wandered from the innocence of earth to the purity of heaven-that he should have contemplated female beauty in its loveliest, holiest form, and then by a slight transition, passed in amongst the an- IMAGINATION. gelic choir, and tuned his harp to celebrate its praise, where beauty is the least of the IMAGINATION is the next qualification esattributes of excellence-in fine, that he sential in the poetic art. As a faculty, imshould have bathed in the fount of nature, agination is called creative, because it forms I and tasted of the springs of feeling at their new images out of materials with which different sources, choosing out the sweetest, impression has stored the mind, and multithe purest, and the most invigarating, for plies such images to an endless variety by the delight of mankind, and the perpetual abstracting from them some of their qualirefreshment of his own soul. ties, and adding others of a different nature; As in society it is impossible to know but that imagination does not actually create whether any particular language has been original and simple ideas, is clear, from the learned until we hear it spoken, so it would fact that no man by the utmost stretch of be difficult to single out individual instances his rational faculties, by intense thought, or of the existence or the absense of deep im- by indefatigable study, can imagine a new pressions; because a mind may be fully en- sense, a new passion, or a new creature. dowed with this first principle of poetry, and Imagination, therefore, holds the same relayet without the proper medium for making tion to impression, as the finished picture it perceptible to others, we may consequently does to the separate colours with which the never be aware of the presence of such a artist works. Judiciously blended, these capability even where it does exist. It will, colours produce all the different forms and however, eminently qualify the possessor tints observable in the visible world; and for feeling and admiring poetry, and thus it by arranging and combining ideas previously is but fair to suppose, that there are many impressed upon the mind, and shaping out individuals undistinguished in the multitude, such combinations into distinct characters, who possess this faculty in the same degree imagination produces all the splendid imaas the most celebrated poet, but who for gery by which the poet delights and astonwant of some or all of the three remaining ishes mankind. When he describes an obrequisites, have never been able. to bring ject new to his readers, it is seldom new to their faculty to light. Where, amongst the himself; or if new as a whole, it is familiar four requisites for writing poetry, this in its separate parts. If for instance he alone is wanting, however highly cultivated sings the praises of maternal love, he refers the mind of the writer may be, and how- to the memory of his own mother, and the ever mature his judgment, this single de- strong impression left upon his mind, by her ficiency will have the effect of rendering solicitude and watchful care-if the song of his poetry monotonous and unimpressive, the nightingale, he recalls the long summer even where it is, critically speaking, free nights, ere forgetfulness had become a blessfrom faults; because it is impossible that he ing, when to listen was more happy than to should be able to convey to others clear or sleep-if the northern wind, he hears again forcible deas of what he has never felt the hollow roar amongst the leafless boughs, clearly or forcibly himself. Dr. Johnson that was wont to draw in the domestic circle was a poet of this description; and on the around his father's hearth-if the woodland other hand, instead of pointing out instances, music of the winding stream, he knows its we have no hesitation in asserting that liquid voice by the rivulet in which he every man who has written impressively, bathed his infant feet-if the tender offices of ingeniously, powerfully, and with good taste, friendship, he has enjoyed them too feelingly 154 THE POETRY OF LIFE. to forget their influence upon the soul-or borrows from the thoughts of others, or one if the anguish of the broken heart, who has whose images are too ordinary and common not the transcript of sorrow written even on place to interest the reader; because, either the earliest page of lile? limited by the nature of his own mind to a These are instances in which the poet narrow range of:deas, or indolent in the draws immediately from experience, and search of materials necessary for his work, where his task is only to transmit to others he has laid hold of such as fell most readily the impression made upon his own mind; within his grasp, and these being few and but there are other cases where the idea con- familiar, and unskilfully arranged, we recogveyed is derived from a combination of im- nise at once the gross elements of the compressions, and this is more exclusively the pound, and see from whence they have been work of imagination. obtained. The poet who has never seen a lion may Deficiency of imagination is the reason use the image of one in his verses, with why some, who would otherwise have been almost as much precision as the poet who our best poets, are rncannerists. It is true has; because he knows that its attributes they may be so from partiality, almost are courage, ferocity, and power, and he amounting to affection, for some peculiar has been impressed with ideas of these character or style of writing; but that they attributes in other objects. He knows that are blindly addicted to this fault, is much its roar is loud, and deep, and terrific, and more frequently owing to their want of cahe has distinct impressions of the meaning pability to conceive any other mode of conof these words also. Its colour, form, and veying their ideas. general habits, he becomes acquainted with Lord Byron was unquestionably a writer by the same means; and thus he makes of the former class. From the variety of bold to use the name and the character of his style, the splendour of his imagery, and the lion to ornament his verse. In the same the brilliant thoughts that burst upon us as manner he describes the sandy desert, and we read his charmed lines, it is impossible with yet greater precision; because he has to believe that his imagination was incapable only to add to the sands of the sea shore, of any scope, of any height, or any depth, with which he is perfectly familiar, the to which it might be directed by inclination; two qualities of extent and burning heat, but in the characters he portrayed he may and he sees before him at once the wide justly be called a mannerist, because he and sterile wastes of Arabian solitude. Or evidently preferred the uniformly dark and if the human countenance be the subject of melancholy; and chose out from the varied his muse, and he endeavours to invent one impressions of his own life, that sombre hue, that shall be new to himself as well as to so deeply harmonizing with majesty and his readers, it is by borrowing different fea- gloom, which he spread over every object tures from faces which have left their im- in nature, like the lowering thunder clouds press on his mind: and upon the same prin- above the landscape; varying at times the ciple he proceeds through all that mental wide waste of brooding darkness, with shortprocess, which is called creating images, lived but brilliant flashes of sensibility, and and which gives to the works of the highly wit, and lively feeling, like the lurid streaks imaginative, the character of originality; that shoot athwart the tempestuous sky, because from the wide scope and variety of lighting up the world for one brief moment their impressions, they are able to select with ineffable brightness, and then leaving such diversified materials, that when com- it to deeper-more impenetrable night. bined, we only see thenl as a whole, without As instances of mannerism arising from being aware of any previous acquaintance the actual want of imagination, we might with their particular parts. bring forward a long list of minor poets, as Where distinct impressions, power, and well as inferior writers of every description, taste are present in full force, and imagina- without however descending so low as to tion alone, out of the four requisites, is those who have not consistency of mind wanting, we speak of the poet as one who sufficient for maintaining any particular sys IMAGINATION. 155 tem of thought, or style of composition. all its varied parts it consists of the ordinary Yet of imagination, as well as impression, and familiar features of humanity; and in we are unable to say decidedly that it does thinking of this wayward and capricious benot exist, because, like impression, it only ing, whose accumulated wrongs and misebecomes perceptible to us through the me- ries have almost stupified his energies, whose dium of words; and as all individuals are melancholy, natural or induced, has connot able to use this medium with force and verted the "brave, o'erhanging firmament" perspicuity, we necessarily lose many of the into "a pestilent congregation of vapours," brilliant conceptions of those around us. we feel with him in all his weakness, as We may however assert as an indisputable with a man; and for him with all his faults, fact, that poetry of the highest order was as for a brother. In memory too, how disnever yet produced without the powerful tinct is Hamlet from all the creations of infeexercise of the faculty of imagination. rior minds! He seems to occupy a place in As a wonderful instance of the force and history, rather than in fiction; and in searchefficacy of imagination, as well as of im- ing out the principles of human feeling, we pression, power, and taste, we might single refer to him as to one whose existence was out Milton, were it not that power is more real, rather than ideal. This may be said of essentially the characteristic of his works. all Shakespeare's characters, and so powerHe has equals in the other requisites of a ful is the evidence of truth impressed upon poet, while in power he stands unrivalled. them, that where he chooses to depart from But, supreme in the region of imagination circumstantial fact, our credence clings to is our inimitable Shakespeare; and that he him in preference to less imaginative histois inimitable is perhaps the greatest proof rians. of the perfection of his imaginative powers. Perhaps the most remarkable fact in conThe heroes of Byron have been multiplied nection with the genius of this wonderful through so many copies that we have grown writer, is the immense variety of his characweary of the original; but who can imitate ters. In almost all other fictitious writings, the characters of Shakespeare? And yet we recognize the same hero, appearing in how perfectly human is every individual of different forms-sometimes seated on an eastthe multitude which he has placed before ern throne, and sometimes presiding over us-so human as to be liked and disliked, the rude ceremonial of an Indian wigwam; according to the peculiar cast of mind in the while the same heroine figures in the " sable persons who pronounce upon them; just in stole" of a priestess, or in the borrowed orthe same manner as characters in ordinary naments of a bandit's bride. But the peolife attract or repel those with whom they ple of Shakespeare amongst whom we seem come in contact. Every one forms the same to live, are in no way beholden to situation opinion of the Corsair, because he has a few or costume, for appearing to be what they distinctive qualities, by which he is known really are. They have an actual identityand copied; while no two individuals agree an individuality that would be distinctly perupon the character of Hamlet-a character ceptible in any other circumstances, or unof all others perhaps least capable of imita- der any other disguise. tion. Yet let us ask, is Hamlet less natural One of the favorite painters of our day, or than Conrad? Quite the reverse. If ever rather of yesterday, has but three heads, the poet's mind conceived a perfectly origi- which serve all his purposes-an old man nal man, it is Hamlet, in whose mysterious with white hair and flowing beard, a Grecian nature is displayed the most astonishing female, and a semi-roman hero; and in the effort of _nagination; and yet so true is the same way many of our writers make use of dark picture to the principles of human three or more distinctions of character —a nature, that we perceive at once the repre- hero and a heroine-a secondary hero to sentation of a creature formed after the thwart their loves-a secondary heroine to similitude of ourselves. assist either one party or the other-perThe fact is. that though as a whole it haps to play at cross purposes with her misstands alone, even in the world of fiction, in tress or her friend: and a fool or buffoon, L__d __, i tewrdo.- _ __o f 156 THE POETRY OF LIFE. (who varies least of all,) to rush upon the and doffs the mantle of enchantment, he stage when more important personages are stands before us, not debased and powerless, likely to be reduced to a dilemma. But in but full of the native majesty of a nobleShakespeare even the fools are as motley as man and a prince. To his daughter, the the garb they wear; and the women, who pure and spiritual Miranda, one of our most with other writers vary only from the ten- talented, yet most feminine writers,* has so der to the heroic, are of all ages, and of all lately done, perhaps more than justice, that distinctions of character and feeling; while nothing can be added to her own exquiamongst the immense number of men whom sitely poetical description of the island he introduces to our acquaintance, there is no nymph, who has "sprung up into beauty single instance of greater resemblance than beneath the eye of her father, the princely we find in real life. Perhaps the nearest magician; her companions the rocks and approach to similarity is in the blundering woods, the many-shaped, many-tinted clouds absurdities of justices of the peace, or coun- and the silent stars; her playmates the try magistrates, a class of people with whom ocean billows that stoop their foamy crests, (" if ancient tales say true") it is probable and run rippling to kiss her feet."' the poet may have been brought into no very Of Ariel, the " delicate Ariel," that most pleasing kind of contact, and hence arises ethereal essence that ever assumed the form the vein of satire which flows through every of beauty in the glowing visions of imagindescription of their conduct and conversa- ation, what can we say? so entirely and tion. purely spiritual is this aerial being, that we Beyond this, there is another striking proof know not whether to speak of hinm as callof the wonderful extent of Shakespeare's ing up " spirits from the vasty deep," rolling Imaginative powers. Throughout the whole the thunder clouds along the stormy heavof his plays we never recognize the man ens, whelming the helpless mariners in the himself. In the works of almost every other foaming surge, and dashing their " goodly writer, the author appears before us, and we bark" upon the echoing rocks; or if her, become in some measure acquainted with his gentle, willing, and obedient, hastening on peculiar tone of mind and individual cast of ready service at a moment's bidding, and character; but Shakespeare is equally at asking for the love, as well as the approbahome with the gloomy or the gay, the licen- tion, of the island lord. We know of notious or the devout, the sublime or the thing within the range of ordinary thought familiar, the terrific or the lovely. We never from which the character of Ariel can be detect him identifying himself either with borrowed, and certainly it is the nearest in the characters, or the sentiments of others; approach to a perfectly original conception, and though we wonder, and speculate upon of any which in our literature adorns the the mind that could thus play with all the page of fiction. feelings of humanity, Shakespeare himself Of Caliban, too monstrous for a manremains invisible and unknown, like a mas- too fiendish for a beast, it may also be said ter magician regulating the machinerywhich that he is entirely the creature of imaginaat the same time conceals his own person, tion; and indeed throughout the whole of and astonishes the world. this astonishing drama, the mind of the auThe Tempest is generally considered the thor seems to have taken the widest possimost imaginative of Shakespeare's plays, ble range of which human genius is capaand certainly it contains little, in scenery, or ble. The very existence of these beings upon circumstance, that can be associated with a solitary island, isolated and shut out from ordmnary life. In the character of Prospero, human fellowship, involves, in difficulties as we are forcibly struck with the originality of strange as insurmountable to ordinary powthe conception; because it combines what ers, the usual course of thought and action, is not to be found elsewhere-the art of a and renders it infinitely more reconcilable to necromancer with the dignity of a man of honour and integrity; and when he lays down his magic wand, "unites the spell," Mrs. Jameson. IMAGINATION. 157 our prejudices, that Prospero, in such a situa- PROSPERO. tion, Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve years since, Thy father was the duke of Milan, and i — " with the stars, A prince of power. And the quick spirits of the universe" MIRANDA should hold "his dialogues." lshould hoklc " his dialogues.' Sir, are not you my father." How beautiful, amidst all the complicated Sir, are not you my father machinery of' her father's magic, is the deli- Again, when Prospero describes the horcate simplicity of Miranda! She wonders rors of their situation afloat upon the sea, how natural and feminine is her reply, not at the prodigies around her, because her and his how full of tender and yet noble trust and her love are centered in her father, a, w full of tender and yet noble and she believes him to have power to dis- eling solve as well as to enforce the spell; yet ",PROSPERO. why he should exercise this power for any In few, they hoard a bark, "In few, they hurried us on board a bark, other than humane and gracious purposes, Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepaid she is at a loss to conceive, and therefore A rotten carcass of a boat not rigg'd, she ventures to call his attention to the Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had quit it. There they ho;st us wreck of a " brave vessel" which she has To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; t, sigh first seen dashed amongst the rocks, and To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, en she adds- Did us but loving wrong. then she adds — MIRANDA. " Had I been any God of power, I would Alack! what trouble Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er Was I then to you! It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and The freighting souls within her." PROSPERO. O! a cherubim Finding the natural disposition to wonder Thou wast, that did preserve me I Thou didst smile, and inquire, just dawning in her mind, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, p n t m o en When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt." Prospero thinks it time to explain the mystery of their situation, and then follows that Ariel's description of the tempest raised touching and beautiful description of their by the command of Prospero, is such as former life, their wrongs, and sufferings, none but the liveliest imagination could have which, occasionally interrupted by the jeal- inspired. ousy of the narrator, lest the attention of his " ARIEL. child should wander, and by her simple ",All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come ejaculations of wonder and concern, is un- To answer thy best pleasure; bet to fly, paralleled alike for its imaginative charm To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds; to thy strong bidding task and for its accordance with the principles of Ariel, and all his quality. nature. For instance, when Miranda is PROSPERO. questioned by her father whether she can I-Hast thou, spirit, remember a time before she came into that Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee' cell, and whether she can recall such by ARIEL. any other house, or person, or image, she To every article. I boarded the king's ship: now on the beak, answers — Now on the waste, the deck, in every cabin, I flam'd amazement. Sometimes I'd divide And burn in many places: on the top-mast, "'Tis far off; The yards, and bolt-sprit, would I flame distinctly, And rather iyke a dream thaants ass.rance Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursors That my remembrance warrants: Had I not 0' the dreadful thunder clap, more momentary Four or five women once, that tended me And sitht outrunning ere not. T fire and cracks And sight outrunning were not. The fire and cracks PRIOSEERO. Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Thou and more, Miranda. ut how is it Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it.." That this lives in thy mind. What seest thou else Yea, his dread trident shake." In thel dark backw~atrdu and abysm of time here; After all this, the imperative magician reIf thou remember'st aug.ht ere thou cam'st here; How thou cam'st here thou may'st. quires yet farther service, when Ariel, in MIRANDA. language true to a nature more human than But that I do not. his own, meey reminds hi 158 THE POETRY OF LIFE. promised freedom for which his spirit is ever The following passage, well known to pining. every reader, can never become too familiar, "ARIEL, or lose its poetic and highly imaginative "I pray thee: charm by repetition: Remenmber, I have done thee worthy service, Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd -- " these our actors, Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise As I foretold you, were all spirits, and To bate me a full year. Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, PROSPERO. The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, Dost thou forget The solemn temples, the great globe itself, From what a torment I did free thee? Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve; And, like this unsubstantial pageant faded, ANotL.Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life PROSPERO. IS rounded with a sleep."Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep; How beautiful, and still imaginative is the To roll upon tisa sharp wind of the north; scene, in which the heart of the magician To do me business in the veins of the earth, When it is bak'l with firost." begins to melt for the sufferings of those he has been afflicting with retributive jusThere is certainly too much of harshness tice! and contempt to suit our feelings, in the language which Prospero addresses to his How fares the kin and his followers "tricksy spirit." But yet sometimes, when Ariel asks of the diligent execution of his Confined together master's mission, "Was't not well done?" In the same fashion as you gave in charge; and receives a gracious answer full of ap- Jst as yoll left them; all prisoners, sir,.a recei ves. a.g racious answer full of ap- In the lime grove which weatherfends your cell; They cannot budge, till your release. The king, from coarser natures to welcome with smiles His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted; his invincible messenger in the air; and Asd the remainder mourning over them, Brim-full of sorrow and dismay; but, chiefly, especially when at last he dismisses him, Him that you term'd the good old lord, Gonzalo, with His tears run down his beard, like winter drops From eaves of reeds: your charm so strongly works -" My Ariel, em, This is thy charge; then to the elements That if you now beheld them, your affections Be free. and fare thou well!" Would become tender. Thus breaking his bondage with the gentle- PROSPERo. ness of affection; we have only to extend Dost thou think so, spirit? our thoughts a little farther beyond the ARIEL. sphere of common life, and we feel that a Mine would, sir, were I human. spirit, gentle, and pure, and elastic, like that PROsPERO. of Ariel, would be more than soothed by a And mine shall. single word or look of kindness-more than Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling rewarded with all it could desire, centred in Of their afflictions? and shall not myself, rewarded with all it could desire, centred in One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, the glorious blessing of liberty. Passion'd as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art I Even the monster Caliban has also an Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, imagination amongst all his brutalities, or Yet wit h my nobler reason,'gainst my fury how could he thus describe the influence of Do I take part: the rarer action is the magic spell, by which his being was In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend surrounded? Not a frown further. Go, release them, Ariel! My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, "Be not afear'd, the isle is full of noises, y harms I'll be their senses I'll res Sodnds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. lSometimes a thousand twanging instruments ARIEL. Will huln about mine ears; and sometimes voices, I1 fetch them, sir. That if I then had wak'd after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, PROSPERO. The clouds methought, would open and show riches, Ye elves, of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves; Ready to drop upon me; that when I waked, And ye, that on the sands with printless foot I cried to dream again.'1 Do chase the ebbing Neptune) and do fly him, IMAGINATION. 159 When he comes back; you demy-puppets, that with storm and tempest, pouring the waters By moon-shine (lo the green sour ringlets make,s e Whereof' thile ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime pleasant Is it to make midnight mushrooms; that rejoice and calling upon the troubled elements to To hear thile solemn curfew: by whose aid bring their tribute of despair. (Weak masters though ye be,) I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous wisnds What then ismagination to the good And'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault to the evil? An angel whose protecting Set roaring- war: to the dread rattlinlg thunder wings are stretched out above the pathway Have I given fire, and rifled Jove's stout oak With his owvn bolt; the strong-bas'd promnontory to the gates of heaven-a demon whose Have I made shake: and by the spurs pluck'd up ghastly image beckons from precipice to The pine ald cer grave t my command let them gulf —down, down into the fathomless abyss Have wakl'd their sleepers; op'd, and let them forth, By my so potent art. Baut this rough magic of endless night: a gentle visitant, who I here abjure: and when I have requir'd brings a tribute of sweet flowers-a fearful Some lheavenly music, (which even now I do,) harbinger of storms and To work mine ettd upon their senses, that This airy charm is for. I'll break my staff, of melody that sings before us as we jourBury it certain fathoms in the earth, ney on-a cry that tells of horrors yet to And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, rll1 drown my i-took." come: a wreath of beauty shadowing our upward gaze-a crown of thorns encircling It is easy to bring proofs of the existence a bleeding brow: a wilderness of verdure of imagination-more easy from the pen of spread beneath our wandering steps-an Shakespeare than from that of any other adder in that verdure lurking to destroy: writer; but what language shall describe its a comforter whose smiile diffuses light-an power! what hand shall reach to the-utmost enemy whose envenomed arrow rankles in boundary of space and time-from the the heart: a joyful messenger going forth source of light to the centre of darkness- upon an embassy of love —a hideous monfrom the heights of heaven, to the depths of ster howling at the gates of hell. i hell, to draw forth the attributes of imagina- True to the impulse of nature, imagition, and embody them in a visible sign? nation rushes forth with certain aim, and Countless as the varieties of human charac- never brings home sweets to the malevolent, ter are those of the nature and office of this or poison to the pure heart; but penetrating active principle; and whatever is the ten- into paths unknown, gathers riches for the dency of the mind-to happiness or misery supply of confidence and hope, or collecting -to good or evil, imagination, faithful to the its evidence from " trifles light as air," sharimpulse of the feelings, ranges through crea- pens the pangs of envy and mistrust. tion, collecting sweets or bitters-delicious There are who treat imagination as a food, or deadly poison. light to be extinguished-a power to be This faculty, more than any other, be- overcome —a demon to be exorcised. But speaks the progress, or the declension of the ask the child who sits with sullen brow beimmortai soul. Like the dove of peace, it neath unnatural discipline, whether imagisoars with the spirit in its upward flight- nation is not pointing to flowery paths, and like the ominous raven it goes before it in its stimulating his unbroken will to seek them downward fall. To those who seek for in despite of stripes and tears. Ask the beauty and happiness, imagination lifts the self-isolated misanthrope, when lonely and veil of nature, and discloses all her charms, unloved he broods over the dark future and unfolds the rosebud to the morning sun, the joyless past, whether imagination does wakens the lark to sing his matins to the not call up images of social comfort, of purple dawn, or folds back the mantle of friendly intercourse, and "homefelt delight," misty clouds, and calls upon the day-beam which his sad solitude can never know. to arise; while those who close their eyes Ask the pale monk whose daily penance upon the loveliness that smiles around them, drags him to an early grave, whether imit darkens with a tenfold gloom, sharpening agination steals not with the moonbeams tne thorns that lie beneath their feet, stun- into his silent cell, whispering of another ning the ear with the harsh tumult of dis- heaven than that of which he reads —a heacordant sounds, rousing the bellowing deep ven even upon earth, to which a broken vow 160 THE POETRY OF LIFE. a church in arms, a name struck out from impression, there is a tide of feeling which the community of saints, are in comparison flows through the mind of man, in different as nothing Ask the criminal at the gallow's degrees of velocity and depth, awakening foot, when chains, and judges, and penitence his imagination, stimulating his energies, and priests, have done their utmost to fortify and supporting him under every intellectual his soul for its last mortal struggle, whether effort. This tide of natural feeling obtains imagination does not paint the picture of the character of enthusiasm, or power, achis cottage in the wood, with her whose cordin(r to the concomitants with which it prayers he has neglected, fondly watching operates. If connected with great sensibility, for his return, and whether the voices of his and liveliness of imagination, without clear children come not on the wandering gale, perceptions, sound judgment, or habits of as they lift their innocent hands to heaven, deep reasoning, it is with strict propriety and bless their father in their evening hymns. called enthusiasm; and as such works wonYes; and the stern moralist, who would ders amongst mankind. Indeed we are instrike out imagination from the soul of man, debted to enthusiasm for a great proportion must first extinguish the principle of life. of what is new in theory, and experimental What then remains? That those who have in practice; as well as for most of the astonthe conduct of the infant mind, should seek to ishing instances of valour, enterprize, and stamp it with a living impress of tne loveli- zeal with which the page of history is enlivness of virtue, and the deformity of vice; ened and adorned. But enthusiasm, while and that the passions and affections should it partakes of the nature of power in its first be so disciplined, that imagination, the busy impulse, is essentially different in its operafaculty which must, and will exist, and act, tion. Enthusiasm in action aims at one either for happiness or misery, for good or point of ardent desire, and regards neither evil, may bring home to the hungry soul time, nor space, nor difficulty, nor absurdity, food fit for the nourishment of an immortal in attaining it; while true mental power, in being, and dispense from out the fulness of strict alliance with the highest faculties a grateful heart, the richest tribute man can of the mind, is the impetus which forces offer at the throne of God. them into action, so as to accomplish its purpose by the concentrated strength of ~ 1 —-9 —. s human intellect directed to an attainable object. POWER. When this principle is diffused through the medium of language, it imparts a portion PoWER, in connexion with the art of writ- of its own nature, commanding conviction, ing poetry, admits of two distinctions-as it stimulating ardour, and rousing determined relates to language and to mind. The action; or, bursting upon the poetic soul former, however, is always dependent upon like sunshine through the clouds of morning, andi subservient to the latter; but the power it opens the book of nature, and reveals a of mind may exist where there is little or no new world of light and loveliness, and glory. facility in the use of appropriate words. It creates not only conviction and approval, WTere it possible that powerful language but actual sensation; and thrills through could proceed from an imbecile mind, the the awakened feelings, like those tremendous effect would be, that of heaping together manifestations of physical force, which by ponderous words, and incongruous images, the combined agency of different elements so as to extend and magnify confusion, produce the most wonderful, and sometimes without rendering any single thought im- the most calamitous results. pressive. Were it possible that in any human mind, That the force of our ideas must depend its faculties could have a complete and eviin great measure upon the strength of our dent existence and yet lie dormant, we impressions, is as clear, as that the vividness should say of such a mind that power alone of a picture must depend upon the colours was wanting; but since there must be some li which it is painted; but in addition to power to stimulate the slightest voluntary POWER. 161 act, we must speak of this faculty as being not be the case. There must to every indialways present, and existing in a greater or vidual, liable to human weakness and infira less degree. Persons deficient in this fac- mity, be seasons when merely to think ulty and no other, are always content to definitely requires an effort-when desire imitate; and as a proof that they possess fails, and the grasshopper becomes a burthe other requisites for successful exertion, den; but when the poet speaks of the Hlissthey sometimes imitate with great ability ful moment of inspiration, we suppose it to and exactness, while they shrink from the be that in which all his highest faculties are very thought of attempting any thing with- in agreeable exercise at the same time that out a model, from an internal consciousness the operations of mental power are unof inability. That many venture to strike impeded. out into new paths without attaining any Amongst our poets, those who display the thing like excellence, is owing to the want greatest power of mind, are Milton, Pope, of some other mental quality; and that some and Young. Had Young possessed the continue to pursue such paths to their own requisite of taste, he would perhaps have shame, and the annoyance of their fellow rivalled even Milton in power; but such is creatures, arises from their enthusiasm, not his choice of images and words, that by the from their power. Yet while many wander frequent and sudden introduction of heteroon in this eccentric course, without ever geneous and inferior ideas, he nullifies what being aware of their inability to succeed, would otherwise be sublime, and by breakwe believe that no man ever yet voluntarily ing the chain of association, strikes out, as commenced a deliberate undertaking, with- it were, the key-stone of the arch. Nor is out some internal evidence of power, where this all. The ponderous magnitude of his it really did exist. A sudden effort is no test, images, heaped together without room for because time is not allowed for the mind to adjustment in the mind, resembles rather examine its own resources; but the man the accumulation of loose masses of uncewho has this evidence, will work out his mented granite, than the majestic mountain, determined way, though all the world should of which each separate portion helps to pronounce him incompetent, and exclaim at constitute a mighty whole. Still we must his absurdity. acknowledge of this immortal poet, that his It may be asked, if this evidence always path was in the heavens, and that his soul accompanies the possession of power, how was suited to the celestial sphere in which is it that certain individuals have not been it seemed to live and expand as in its native aware of its existence until circumstances element. We can feel no doubt that his have called forth their energies? I answer, own conceptions were magnificent as the it is the test alone which brings this confi- stars amongst which his spirit wandered, Idence to light; but even these individuals, and had his mode of conveying these confor any thing which history tells us to the ceptions to the minds of others been equal contrary, may have had in their private to their own original sublimity, he would.walk precisely the same sensations on com- have stood pre-eminent amongst our poets b mencing any trifling undertaking, as after- in the region of power. wards accompanied their more public and In order to prove that the poetry of Young splendid career. We are not told with what is too massive and complex in its imagery energy or skill Cincinnatus cultivated his to be within the compass of natural and farm, but we have no proof that he did not ordinary association, it is unnecessary to feel the same consciousness of power in quote many instances. Those who are most conducting his agricultural pursuits, as in familiar with his writings-even his greatest I regulating the affairs of the commonwealth admirers, must acknowledge, that in one of Rome. Still it would be absurd to main- line of his works, they often meet with mattain that power always exists in the same ter, which if diffused and poetically enlarged | mind in an equal degree. There are physi- upon, would fill pages, better calculated to cal as well as other causes why this should please, as well as to instruct.._ _ __ _ _ I__ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ 162 THE POETRY OF LIFE.'" How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How is night's sable mantle labou ed o'er, How complicate, how wonderful is man! flow richly wrought with attribu es divine! How passing wonder He who made him such! What wisdom shines! what love! This midnight pomp Who centr'd in our make such strange extremes! This gorgeous arch, with golden words inlaid I From different natures, marvellously mix'd, Built with divine ambition! nought to thee: Connexion exquisite of different worlds! For others this profusion. Thou, apart, Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain! Above, beyond, O tell me, mighty Mind! Midway from nothing to the Deity!" Where art thou? shall I dive into the deep? Call to the sun, or ask the roaring winds, Thus far the mind may keep pace with For their Creator 7 shall I question loud.the writer, and especially by t.last two The thunder, if in that the Almighty dwells? the writer, and, especially by the last two Or holds He furious storms in straiten'd reins, lines, must be impressed with ideas at once And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car clear, imaginative, and sublime. Those "The nameless He, whose nod is nature's birth which immediately follow are less happy. And nature's shield, the shadow of his hand; Her dissolution, his suspended smile! "A beam ethereal, sullied, and absorb'd! The great First-last! pavilion'd high he sits Though sullied and dishonour'd, still divine! In darkness, from excessive splendour, borne, Dim miniature of greatness absolute! By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost. An heir of glory! a frail child of dust I His glory, to created glory bright Helpless immortal! insect infinite! As that to central horrqrs: he looks down A worm! a god! I tremble at myself, On all that soars, and spans immensity." And in myself am lost."Young's description of truth is also strongOne instance more, and we turn to pas- ly characterized by power. sages of a different character. "See from her tombs as from an humble shrine, "Lorenzo, blush at terror for a death Truth, radiant goddess, sallies on my soul, Which gives thee to repose in festive bowers, And puts delusion's dusky train to flight; Where nectars sparkle, angels minister, Dispels the mist our sultry passions raise And more than angels share, and raise, and crown, From objects low, terrestrial, and obscene, And eternize, the birth, bloom, bursts of bliss." And shows the real estimate of things, Which no man, unafflicted, ever saw, It is really a relief to pass on from this Pulls off the veil from virtue's rising charms; laborious collection of disjointed ideas, to Detects temptation in a thousand lies. Truth bids me look on men as autumn leaves, instances of more perfect sublimity, which And all they bleed for as the summer's dust also abound in the works of the sanle poet. Driven by the whirlwind: lighted by her beams, I widen my horizon, gain new powers, Whnat can exceed in power and beauty his See things invisible, feel things remote, first address to Night? Am present with futurities; think nought To mall so foreign as the joys possess'd; "Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, Nought so much his, as those beyond the grave.". In rayless majesty now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumb'ring world. After all, it is not so much in extended Silence how dread! and darkness how profound passages, as n dstinct and Nor eye nor list'ning ear an object finds; passages, thoughts, gle Creation sleeps.'Tis as the general pulse expressions, that we feel and acknowledge Of life stood still, and nature made a pause, the power of this dignified and majestic An awful pause! prophetic of her end." writer. "Silence and darkness! solemn Again, his appeal to the Divine Inspirer sisters!" is a striking illustration of how of his solemn thoughts, is full of majesty and great an extent of sublimity may be embopower. died in a few simple and well chosen words; and it is unquestionably to beauties of this "Man's Author, End, Restorer, Law, and Judge desc! that Thine, all; day thine, and thine this gloomy night, descrlpon Young is indebted for his With all her wealth, and all her radiant worlds. high rank amongst our poets. What night eternal, but a frown from thee? The same faculty of mind is exhibited What heaven's meridian glory, but thy smile? And shall not praise be thine, not human praise, a different character in the writings While heaven's high host in hallelujahs live! of Pope. Power as an impulse is less apO may I breathe no longer than I breathe parent here, but in its mode of operation it My soul ir praise to Him who gave my soul And all her infinite of prospect fair, is more uniform and efficient. Pope is less Cut through the shades of hell, great Love, by thee, an enthusiast than Young, and therefore he O most adorable! most unadorn'd! e Where shall that praise bein which ne'er shouldend! pays more regard to means; whist the Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause! agency by which these means are brought POWER. 163 to bear upon their object seems to be slum- worthy of the genius that unbound the lyre bering in silent pomp. The genius of Young of Homer, and awakened fresh music from gives us the idea of continued, extraordinary, his immortal strains. and sometimes ineffectual effort-even in the But it is in contemplating the nature of dead of night counting the stars, grappling Milton's genius, in its connection with power, with darkness, and grasping at infinity; that we behold at once the full force of a while we imagine that of Pope seated on a stupendous impulse, associated with the throne of majesty, collecting, combining, and greatest possible facility in the use of the controlling the elements of mind, by author- best means of action. The difference to be ity, rather than by direct force. The power observed in the character of power, as exhiof Young resembles that of a volcano, an bited in the poetry of Pope and Milton, is, earthquake, or a storm of thunder-that of that the former affects us rather as the writPope is like the flow of a broad and potent ten transcript of well concocted thoughts; river-too copious to be interrupted in its while the latter, bursting forth from the nacourse-too deep to be impetuous. And as tural, and immediate, and constantly operatit would be impossible to form any idea of ing force of an enlightened and vigorous mind, the general agency of such a river by ob- opens for itself-for us-for the whole world serving any particular portion of its surface, and for ages yet to come, the gates of a so it would be unjust to the character of paradise of thought, pours in an overwhelmPope, to attempt to convey an adequate idea ing flood of light, and diffuses through a reof his power as a poet, by any particular gion of unexplored sublimity, the loveliness selection from his writings. One instance, of nature and the harmony of truth. almost too well known to need repetition, In reading the poetry of Milton, we have will serve our purpose. perpetual evidence of his inspiration-of the fulness of the fountain of poetic feeing, whose All are but patsof s, and God the soul copious streams are rich in majesty, and Whose body Nature is, and God the soul; That, chang'd through all, and yet in all the same, beauty, and spiritual. ife; and we are satisGreat in the earth, as in the ethereal frame, fled that the fountain could never have been Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees, Lives through all life, extends through all extent, tary and mighty spring was closed, but the Spreads undivided, operates unspent, waters only became more pure and harmoBreathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; nious and derived from their divine original As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, a more seraphic sweetness-a grandeur As the rapt seraph that adores and burns; more sublime. We feel that Milton could To him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all." not bu t have written as he did. He was less capable of subduing the impulse of his soul, As a proof that the exercise of power is than of finding a language suited to its not dependent upon the magnitude or sub- highest aspirations: and it is this unconlimity of the subject described, we will add trollable impulse operating in conjunction another passage from the same writer-a with the noblest faculties of human nature, singular paradox-an example of power ex- which constitutes his power. hibited in the description of a spider's web! We cannot better illustrate the power of The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine Milton's muse, than by selecting from his " The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line." works, passages descriptive of the two opposite principles of good and evil. On the Here we have distinct ideas of the most character of Satan the poet has bestowed so delicate sensibility, the most acute percep- much of the native energy of his genius, ion, and the wonderful expansion and dura- that we scarcely feel as we ought to, that it don of the principle of life, in connection is the nature of evil to degrade and debase. with the frailest, and one of the least perceptible objects in nature, without in any "Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool way interfering with our distinct ideas of that His mighty stature; on each hand the flames, Driven backward, slope their pointing spires, and, object; an evidence of mental power, well ron'd, -164 THE POETRY OF LIFE. In billows, leave in the midst a horrid vale. Still threatening to devour me opens wide Then with expanded wings he steers his flight To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air, Oh! then, at last relent: is there no place That felt unusual weight; till on dry land Left for repentance, none for pardon left 1 HIe lights, if it were land that ever burned None left but my submission; and that word With solid, as the lake with liquid fire; Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Arji such appeared in hue, as when the force Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced Of subterranean wind transports a hill With other promises and other vaunts Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side Than to submit, boasting I could subdue Cf thundering 7Etna, whose combustible The Omnipotent! Ah me! they little know And fueled entrails thence conceiving fire, How dearly I abide that boast so vain, Sublimed with mineral fury, and the winds, Under what torments inwardly I groan, And leave a singed bottom all involved While they adore me on the throne of hell. With stench and smoke: such resting found the sole With diadem and sceptre high advanced, Of unblessed feet." The lower still I fall, only supreme In misery: such joy ambition finds." "he, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, We now change the subject, and see how Stood like a tower; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared the same genius can ascend from the lowest Less than archangel ruined, and the excess depths of hell, to the hi hest regions of puriOf glory obscured: as when the sun new risenns Looks through the horizontal misty air ty and bliss, tuning his harp to strains that Shorn of his beams; or from behind the moon, harmonize with both. In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change "No sooner had the Almighty ceased, but all Perplexes monarchs." The multitude of angels, with a shout Loud as from numbers without number, sweet As from blessed voices, uttering joy, Heaven rung Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs As from blessed voices, uttering With jubilee, and loud hosannas filled Of mighty cherubim; the sudden blaze Far round illumined hell: highly they raged eternal regions." Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms Clashed on their sounding shields the din of war, "Immortal amaranth. a flower which once Hurling defiance toward the vault of heaven." In Paradise, fast by the tree of life, Began to bloom: but soon for man's offence " The other shape, To heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows, If shape it might be called, that shape had none And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life, Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb; And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, Rolls o'er Elysian ilowers her amber stream: For each seemed either; black it stood as night, With those that never fade, the spirits elect, Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, Bind their resplendent locks, inwreathed with beams; And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed his head, Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright The likeness of a kingly crown had on. Pavement, that like a sea of jasper stone, Satan was now at hand, and from his seat Impearled with celestial roses smiled. The monster moving, onward came as fast Then crowned again, their golden harps they took, With horrid strides: hell trembled as he strode. harps ever tuned, that glittering by their side The undaunted fiend what this might be admired; Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet Admired, not feared; God and his Son except, Of charming symphony they introduce Created thing nought valued he, nor shunned; Their sacred song, and waken raptures high; And with disdainfil look thus first began." No voice exempt, no voice but well could join Melodious part, such concord is in heaven." -— " I fled, and cried out, Death! Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed 11 c 1 "So spake the cherub; and his grave rebuke, From all her caves, and back resounded, Death!" Severe in youthful beauty, added grace - — " IIorror and doubt distract Invincible: abashed the devil stood, His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir And felt how awful goodness is, and saw The hell within him for within him hell Virtue in her shape how lovely: saw, and pined The hell within him; for within him hell He brings, and round about him, nor from hell One step, no more than from himself, can fly By change of place; now conscience wakes despair, " Hail, holy light, offspring of heaven first born, That slumbered; wakes the bitter memory Or of the Eternal co-eternal beam! Of what he was, what is, and what must be May I express thee unblamed 3 Since God if.ight, Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue. And never but in unapproached light Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view Dwelt from eternity; dwelt then in thee, Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixed sad; Bright effluence of bright essence increate. Sometimes towards heaven, and the full blazing sun. Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream, Which now sat high in his meridian tower. Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the sun Me miserable, which way shall I fly Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice Infinite wrath, and infinite despair h Of God, as with a mantle didst invest Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell; The rising world of w aters dark and deep, And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep Won from the void and formless infinite." POWER. 165 "And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer or " stately tread the earth," or " lowly Before all temples he upright heart and pure, cr Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread work and the care of an Almighty hand; Dove like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, but where is the fresh impulse of undeviating And mad'st it pregnant; what in me is dark, Illumine; what is low, raise and support; will to worship that Almighty Father? will That to the height of this great argument, it return with the contemplatic n of his attri-I I may assert eternal Providence, butes, and stimulate us to a more faithful And justify the ways of God to men." service, or inspire a holier love? "Henceforth I learn, that to obey is best, We are not among those who would limit And love with fear the only God; to walk As in his presence; ever to observe tle means appointed by Omnipotence for His providence; and on him sole depend, winning back the wanderer from the fold, Merciful over all his works, with good and we have no hesitation in saying, that it Still overcoming evil, and by sinall Accomplished great things, by things deemed weak iS impossible studiously to examine, and seSubverting worldly strong, and worldly wise riously to consider the well d;'ected aim of By simply meek; that suffering for truth's sake Milton's genius, without feeling a fresh conIs fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful, death the gate of life; viction that such should be the high and Taught this by his example, whom I now glorious purpose of all human intellect-to Acknowledge my Redeemer ever blessed." dignify the immortal nature of mandignify the immortal nature of man-to If power be the faculty which presents us throw open as far as human powers permit, most clearly and forcibly with ideas that lie the great plan of Divine benevolence, and beyond the scope of ordinary thought, there to teach the important lesson, that where is then a power in beauty, as well as in sub- we cannot wholly understand, we may limity-a power in the language of the af- humbly admire, and where we cannot penefections to awaken their echo in the human trate, we should trust. heart, and in pure and holy aspirations, to In connexion with mental power, there call us back to all the good we have fobr- remains some distinction to be made in its saken, and to lead us forward to all that yet mode of operation. There is a power of inmay be attained. tellect, and a power of feeling. The writThat beautiful and majestic hymn in ings of Pope bear the most striking evidence which Milton describes our first parents, as of the former, those of Byron will serve as calling upon the creation-upon every an example of the latter. Pope addresses bright and glorious creature-to join in the himself to man's reason, and wields convicsolemn praises of their universal Creator, tion like a thunderbolt. Byron appeals to comprehends all that we can imagine, both the soul through its strong sympathies and of the harmony of verse, and the force of passions, and spreads over it the shadow of mental power. Widely as we may have the mighty wings of a dark angel. But the wandered from the purity and the innocence genius of Milton combining the powers of of the first inhabitants of paradise, this morn- both, and pausing in its flight from heaven ing hymn seems to burst upon us like the to hell, treads the verdant paths of Eden dawn of a brighter day, when gratitude and with the footsteps of humanity, reposes in love shall again become the natural lan- the bowers of earthly bliss, and pours the guage of the re-illumined soul. We see lamentation of a broken and a contrite spirit around us even now the same attributes of over the first sad exile of the progenitors of divinity-the sun, the "eye of this great sin and death. world," the moon that "meets the orient We cannot complete our tribute to the sun," and the " fixed stars"-we feel "the power of Milton's mind, without referring to winds that from four quarters blow"-we his prose, as well as to his poetical composihear the warbling flow of the fountains- tions; and here we find that strong internal evidence of his calling and capability to That singing up to Heaven's gate ascend"- out what mankind in future ages should wonder at and approve; accompawe behold the world of animate ana mov- nied with a deeply reverential feeling, that ing life-creatures that " in waters glide," even with such capabilities, he was but an 166 THE POETRY OF LIFE. humble instrument whose highest office was first stirrings of his youthful genius-the first to assist and promote the purposes of the impulse of inspiration, is worthy of the effect Most Hiah. And when he levels the pow- it has produced, and still continues to proerful aim of his majestic mind against the duce upon mankind. abuse, and the oppression of a suffering "I began thus far to assent both to them and to divers church, it is with the full conviction that of my friends at home, and not less to an inward prompt. such is the solemn duty laid upon his soul. ing which now grew daily upon me, that by labour and intense study, (which I take to be my portion in this life,) joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might "For surely he acknowledges) to every good and perhaps leave something so written to after times, as peaceable man, it must in nature needs be a hateful thing they should not willingly let it die." to be the displeaser and molester of thousands; much better would it like him doubtless to be the messenger The poet -lhen describes the high and of gladness and contentment, which is his chief intended compass of the work which he conbusiness to all mankind, but that they resist and oppcmse their own true happiness. But when God commands to templated, speaking uniformly of the great take the trumpet, and blow a dolorous or jarring blast, endowment of extraordinary intellect as a it lies not in man's will what he shall say, or what he shall conceal." gift to be exclusively devoted to the honour and instruction of his country, and the glory Milton then describes, in language of'his God. scarcely less remarkable for its power than _ _ To celebrate in glorious and lofty hymns the for its poetical fervour, the self-upbraidings throne and equipage of God's almightiness, and what he he should ever have felt in after life, had he works, and what he suffers to be wrought with high neglected this high and holy call to rescue providence in his church; to sing victorious agonies of martyrs and saints; the deeds and triumphs of just and the church from degradation. pious nations, doing valiantly through faith against the enemies of Christ; to deplore the general relapses of "Timorous and ungrateful, the church of God is now kingdoms from justice and God's true worship. Lastly, again at the foot of her insulting enemies, and thou whatsoever in religion is holy and sublime, ill virtue Lewailest; what matters it for thee, or thy bewailing? amiable or grave, whatsoever hath passion or admiration when time was, thou couldst not find a syllable of all in all the changes of that which is called fortune from that thou hast read, or studied, to utter in her behalf. without, or the wily subtleties or refluxes of man's Yet ease and leisure was given thee for thy retired thoughts from within; all these things with a solid thoughts, out of the sweat of other men. Thou hast the and treatable smoothness to point out and describe. diligence, the parts, the language of a man, if a vain Teaching over the whole book of sanctity and virtue subject were to be adorned or beautified; but when the through all the instances of example, with such delight cause of God and his church was to De pleadea, tor to those especially of' soft and delicious temper, who which purpose that tongue was given thee which thou will not so much as look upon truth herself, unless they hast; God listened if he could hear thy voice among his see her elegantly dressed; that whereas the paths of zealous servants, but thou wert dumb as a beast; from honesty and good life appear now rugged and difficult, henceforward be that which thine own brutish silence though they be indeed easy and pleasant, they will then hath made thee. Or else I should have heard in the appear to all men easy and pleasant, though they were other ear; slothful and ever to be set light by, the church rugged and difficult indeed. hath now overcome her late distresses after the unwea- -' A work not to be raised from the heat of ried labours of many of her true servants that stood up youth, or the vapours of wine; like that which flows at in her defence; thou also wouldst take upon thee to waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the share amongst them of their joy: but wherefore thou? trencher fury of a rhyming parasite; nor to be obtained where canst thou show any word or deed of thine by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughwhich miht have hastened her peace? whatever thou ters, but by devout prayer to that eternal Spirit, who dost now talk, or write, or look, is the alms of other can enrich with all utterance and knowledge; and sends men's active prudence and zeal. Dare not now to say out his seraphim, with the hallowed fire of his altar, to or do any thing better than thy former sloth and infamy; touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases." or if thou darest, thou dost impudently to make a thrifty purchase of boldness to thyself, out of the painful merits of other men; what before was thy sin, is now ng at great length, but thy duty, to be abject and worthless. These, and such the temptation is great also, to support with like lessons as these, would have been my matins daily, the highest authority what has been asserted and my evening song. But now by this little diligence, mark what a privilege I have gained with good men and saints, to claim my right of lamenting the tribulations panied with the consciousness of its existof the church, if she should suffer, when others, that ad that the noblest exercise of this have'ventured nothing for her sake, have not the honour to be admitted mourners. But if she lift up her drooping power is to promote the intellectual happihead and prosper among those that have something ness, as well as the moral good of the human more than wished her welfare, I have my charter and'amily and to "Justlfy the ways of God to freehold of rejoicing to me and my heirs." _nan." The manner in which Milton speaks of the We know not that our language contains POWER. 167 any thing comparable in poetic fervour, and mental power, that we conclude only with sublimity, and power, to the solemn appeal the end of the chapter. Of those whom he to the Divine Being with which Milton closes has been denouncing, he says, his second book on the Reformation. After summing up a list of evils present and to L"Let them take counsel together, and let it come to nought; let them decree, and do thou cancel it; let them come, he adds — gather themselves, and be scattered; let them embattle themselves, and be broken; let them embattle and be — " I do now feel myself inwrapped on the sud- broken, for thou art with us. den into those mazes and labarytaths of hideous and "Then, amidst the hymns and hallelujahs of saints, dreadful thoughts, that which way to get out, or which some one may perhaps be heard offiering at high strains way to end, I know not, unless I turn mine eyes, and in new and lofty measures, to sing and celebrate thy with your help lift up my hands to that eternal and pro- divine mercies anud marvellous judgments ill this land pitious throne, where nothing is readier than grace and throughout all ages; whereby this great and warlike refuge to the distresses of mortal suppliants. And it nation, instructed and inured to the fervent and continual were a shame to leave these serious thoughts less piously practice of truth and righteousness, and casting far from than the heathen were wont to conclude their graver her the rags of her old vices, may press on hard to that discourses. high and happy emulation to be found the soberest, " Thou therefore that sittest in light and glory unap- wisest, and most Christian people at that day, when proachable, Parent of angels and men! next thee I im- thou, the eternal and shortly expected King, shalt open plore, omnipotent King, Redeemer of that lost remnant the clouds to judge the several kingdoms of the world, whose nature thou didst assume, ineffable and everlast- and distributing national honours and rewards to religious ing love! and thou, the third subsistence of divine infirti- and just commonwealths, shall put an end to all earthly tude, illumining Spirit, the joy and solace of created tyrannies, proclaiming thy universal and mild monarchy things! one Tripersonal godhead! look upon this thy through heaven and earth; where they undoubtedly, poor and almost spent and expiring church, leave her that by their labours, counsels and prayers, have been not thus a prey to these importunate wolves, that wait earnest for the common good of religion and their counand think long till they devour thy tender flock; these try, shall receive above the inferior orders of the blessed, wild boars that have broke into thy vineyard, and left the legal addition of principalities, legions, and thrones the print of their polluting hoofs on the souls of thy ser- into their glorious titles, and in supereminence of beatific vants. Olet them not bring abott their damned designs, vision, progressing the dateless and irrevoluble circle that stand now at the entrance of the bottomless pit, ex- of eternity, shall clasp inseparable hands with joy and pecting the watchword to open and let out those dread- bliss, in overmeasure for ever. ful locusts and scorpions, to reinvolve us in that pitchy "But they contrary, that by the impairing and diminucloud of infernal darkness, where we shall never more tion of the true faith, the distresses and servitude of see the sun of thy truth again, never hope for the cheer- their country, aspire to high dignity, rule, and promotion ful dawn, never more hear the bird of morning sing. here, after a shameful end in this life, shall be thrown Be moved with pity at the afflicted state of this our down eternally into the darkest and deepest gulf of hell, shaken monarchy, that now lies labouring under her where under the despiteful control, the trample and throes, and struggling against the grudges of more spurn of all the other damned, that in the anguish o' dreadful calamities. their torture, shall have no other ease than to exercise " O thou, that, after the impetuous rage of five bloody a raving and bestial tyranny over them as their slaves inundations, and the succeeding sword of intestine war, anT negroes, they shall remain in that plight for ever, soaking the land in her own gore, didst pity the sad and the basest, lowermost, the most dejected, most underceaseless revolution of our swift and thick coming sor. foot, and down trodden vassals of perdition.''" rows; when we were quite breathless, out of thy free grace didst motion peace, and terms of covenant with us; and have first well nigh freed us from antichristian thraldom, didst build up this Britannic empire to a glorious and enviable height, with all her daughter islands about her; stay us in this felicity, let not the obstinacy TASTE. of our half obedience and will-worship bring forth that viper of sedition, that for fourscore years hath been breeding to eat through the entrails of our peace; but TASTE, the last mentioned of the four relet her cast her abortive spawn without the danger of quisites for writing poetry, is by no means this travailing and throbbing kingdom: that we may still remember in our solemn thanksgivings, how for us, the Northern Ocean even to the frozen Thule was scattered operation belongs so much to the medium with the proud shipwrecks of the Spanish Armada, and through which poetical ideas are conveyed, the very maw of hell ransacked, and made to give up that even where impression, imagination, her concealed destruction, ere she could vent it in that horrible and damned blast. and power exist, we may lose by the absence of taste, all the sensible effect of tleir presMilton then goes on with somewhat too ence, as well as all the pleasure natir-ally much of the rancour of a zealot to stigmatize arising from their combined influence. and condemn the enemies of the church, but We speak of taste as belonging chiefly to still his language is so perfectly illustrative the medium of the poet's ideas, because in the of what we have attempted to describe as choice and arrangement of his subjects, he 168 THE POETRY OF LIFE. uses a higher faculty (or rather a higher and ble of taking into consideration the nature, more profound exercise of the same,)-the relation, and application of the laws which faculty of judgment; in its nature so nearly regulate public action, and private thought; allied to taste, that we are inclined to de- but if such individuals could be mada tc unscribe taste as a superficial application of derstand these laws; there is no reason whly judgment. Both are faculties whose office they should not judge as correctly of the:x it is to take note of the fitness of things gen- effect as of that of a group of flowers. In crerally, the one by casual observation of them, der to compose a tasteful bouquet it is only the other by mature consideration of their necessary that we should have clear percepnature. Taste applies chiefly to those qual- tions of form and colour; in order to invent ities which immediately strike our attention laws for the government of nations, or syswithout much exercise of thought, such as tematize the thoughts and " imaginations of beauty and harmony; while judgment ad- man's heart," we must have distinct ideas of.mits within its compass the weightier con- physical force, and moral good, of action, siderations of present utility, and ultimate and motive, of power, and integrity. good. It is a familiar, but not the less important If, for example, we say of a lady that she and comprehensive fact, that every thing dresses with taste; we mean with due re- has a proper place; and the faculty which gard to beauty of form, harmony of colours, enables us to ascertain by instantaneous and general suitableness to her appearance perception what is, or is not the proper place -if with judgment, we mean with regard to of any object, is taste-that by which we her pecuniary means, her character, and ascertain the same fact by conviction is station in life; but the operation of the mind judgment. We admire, and derive pleasure in the exercise of taste, and judgment is the from the operation of the former; we reversame, differing only in the subjects to which ence, and derive benefit from that of the it is applied. In both cases we draw con- latter. Our looks, words, movements, and clusions from the general nature of the sub- trifling pursuits come under the cognijects considered, those of which taste takes zance of taste; nor let its superficial chacognizance. being superficial and evident to racter lessen the value of this universal test the senses, Its conclusions are prompt, and of beauty and harmony, which are the two immediate; and thus it erroneously obtains grand sources of our enjoyment. It is not the character of an intuitive power, directing the profound nature of the cases in which it the choice at once to what is most suitable, acts, but their frequent recurrence in the oror best. In the tasteful arrangement of a dinary walks of life, as well as their imgroup of flowers, we are apt to suppose it is mense variety and number, which renders an instinctive impulse by which they are so the influence of taste so important to our placed before us, as to display their beauties happiness. If from the causes upon which to the greatest advantage, and produce the it operates, we are liable to receive pain or most agreeable effect; but it is in fact upon pleasure every moment of our lives, the culconclusions previously drawn from the prin- tivation of this faculty must indeed be of no ciples of pleasure, that the mind operates in inconsiderable weight in the aggregate of contrasting the colours so as to make one huMaQ affairs; yet how to cultivate it so as heighten the brilliancy of another, and com- ultimately to produce the greatest good, is a bining the whole group so as to render not delicate and difficult question. Refined to only colour, but form, and character condu- the most acute perception of all the degrees cive to the beauty of the whole. which lie between the remote extremes of If taste and judgment differ only in being beauty and deformity-of pleasure and pain, exercised upon different subjects, it may be taste is any thing but a blessing; unless asked, ahy then are nnt the individuals best where there is judgment to go deeper into skilled in the arrangement of flowers, able the essential qualities of things, and to dislegislators, and profound logicians? It is cover a moral good beneath a physical evil; because there are many minds possessed of because the outward aspect of our world, the faculty o" judgment yet wholly incapa- even with all its loveliness, and the external TASTE. 169 character of our circumstances, even with own delicacy they have made this laudable all our enjoyments, are such as often to pre- discovery. Better would it beseem an elesent pictures repulsive and abhorrent to vated soul to pass on, and leave such blemperceptions more delicate than deep. But ishes unnoticed; or to prove its just and nothe cultivation of taste when confined as it'ble admiration of true genius, rather than its ought to be to its proper place, and limited capability of discovering petty faults. to its proper degree, is eminently conducive Where the poet is gifted with judgment, to our happiness, and eventually to our good. and not with taste, he is compelled to ponTaste should even rule itself and set bounds der at every verse; and while he weighs to its own existence, for its laws are as much the merit of his subject, compares his ideas, violated when we are too sublime for useful and new models his expressions, the warmth service, and too delicate for duty, as when of his poetic fervour is expended, and that we descend to the use of vulgar epithets, which ought to appear to us as if it flowed and ape the absurdities of our inferiors. from a natural and irrepressible impulse, beAs a proof of the immediate application comes painful and laborious, both to himself of taste, we seldom wholly approve of the and to his readers. But he who is gifted language and customs of past ages. That with a high degree of taste, calls in the aid the same astonishing productions of art of this important faculty, the lively exercise which adorned the most enlightened eras of whose immediate power directs him to the of Grecian history, should remain to be mo- choice of expressions in which to clothe his dels of excellence at the present day, is be- ideas, striking out what is defective, and secause of their relation to the senses, whose lecting what is appropriate, with the rapidipower in assisting the judgment is limited ty of an instantaneous impulse. One kind of to a degree of cultivation; but language and metre admits of a pompous array of words, social customs having more immediate re- another of expressions volatile and gaylation to the intellectual and moral constitu- one of abrupt and broken, another of smooth tion oi man are continually fluctuating, or and flowing sentences. One subject requires progressing, without any perceptible limita- a correspondence of solemn or melancholy tion to their capability of improvement. We sound, another of the rapid movements which cannot look back to the literature of the past belong to lively joy. One scene calls forth century, and pay our just tribute to its supe- the glowing ornament of eastern magnifiriority in force of expression, without at the cence, another, the cold majesty of the frosame time being struck with words and zen north. For the description of one pasphrases, which to say the least of them, sion the poet must adorn his muse with the arrest our attention, and often impede, by attributes of love and beauty, for another the difference of their associations, our per- he must place in her hand the lighted brand ception of their sense and application. In- of fury and destruction. All this is the work deed so wide is this difference, that many of taste, and when no law, either intellectuminds endowed with fine taste and sensi- al or moral has been violated; when the bility, are now incapable of appreciating the customs and regulations of society have been beauties of Shakespeare; though we own consulted, and no feeling or prejudice there is some cause to suspect of such minds, offended; when propriety, and order, and that they are deficient both in imagination harmony, have ruled the poet's theme, and and power, or they would unquestionably verse; and when supreme regard has been be lifted above what appear to us now the paid to beauty, both in its physical and inabsurdities of this extraordinary writer, by tellectual character, we may confidently the unrivalled splendour of his mighty ge- pronounce the writer to have possesed a nius. Insensible to the brilliance of a great more than common share of taste. luminary, which reveals a world of glory, On this snbject we may go yet farther. these fastidious critics take the light of their We may say of the faculty of taste, that it tiny perceptions into partial spots of shade, makes the nearest approach to what we are and extracting from thence the rank nettle in the habit of calling inspiration; because or the wandering weed, cry out that by their it is the direct rule of propriety in action: 170 THE POETRY OF LIFE. and -were the perceptions of man so quick taste is sacrificed: consequently, as our and clear as to carry the same principle along mental and material world is constituted, with him through all the transactions of his the dominon of taste must extend over a life, he would always act rightly. But, be- very limited and narrow sphere. yond the surface of things, man is unable to The difference of' taste to be found judge at sight. Reflection requires time ana amongst mankind, and the want of a univereffort, often more of both than he is willing sal standard of reference, have excited to bestow, and even when he is willing, the almost as many arguments in the sphere of right period of action is lost before he has poetry and the arts, as the difference of decided upon the right means. creeds in the religious world. This subject By contemplating the character and ope- seems to be most satisfactorily decided, by ration of taste, we arrive at a dim and dis- attaching to the majority the same important perception of one of the attributes of tance in taste as in politics. The exercise the Divine nature; and even this imperfect of taste being to find the medium between view reveals a world of wonder in which all objectionable extremes-the centre of imagination is bewildered, and understand- eccentricity-it follows of necessity, that ing lost. We know the rapidity of thought whatever is admired by the greatest number, with which we decide in a moment, even must possess the greatest share of intrinsic during an instantaneous movement, which is excellence. But here, as in other cases, it the most graceful, the most effective, or the is highly important to make a distinction best mode of acting; and it may not perhaps between mere numbers, and numbers qualibe derogating from the supreme majesty to fled to judge; for how should that judgsuppose that the same effort of omnipotent ment be a test of merit, to which merit is mind, created out of Chaos a universe of neither apparent nor intelligible? The worlds, not only designing their form and gallery audience in a theatre may be well regulating their movements, in the centre of qualified to pronounce upon the height, the infinity; but also designing and regulating breadth, the complexion, or the agility of a their internal constitution, down to the slight- favourite actor; but who would appeal to est impulse of an infant's will, the meanest them to know whether he had exhibited to weed that lurrs within the forest glade, or the life the workings of deep-seated feeling, the minutest insect that skims along the sur- or entered into the mental mysteries of an inface of the summer lake. The power of tellectual character? When, therefore, we judging when limited to a narrow sphere of speak of the majority of opinions being the operation constitutes the superiority of man strongest proof of the presence of good taste, above the brutes; the power of judging we would confine those opinions, not merely universally, instantaneously and infallibly, to a few learned men, the established critics belongs to God alone. and censors of the day, but to the whole of We have said, and we repeat it with reve- the enlightened public, who constitute a rence, that the faculty of taste in the single community too numerous for long continued consideration of its mode of operating, bears prejudice, and too intelligent for egregious an humble relation to what we conceive of error. infallibility; because its decisions are so Why then, it may be asked, does a false prompt as to apply to immediate action, and taste sometimes prevail, even amongst this so extended as to comprehend all relative community, as in the case of Byron,* whose circumstances; or else it does not exist: for poetry so powerfully affected men's minds, let a sound be harsh, where it should be as to leave behind it a disrelish for all other? soft; or soft, where it should be harsh; let A false taste may exist amongst the few, a movement be quick, or slow, as circum- from partial impressions, and local prejustances do not warrant; let a shadow, or a gleam of light break in upon the sphere of ~ The inequalities of Byron's style, naturally lead the beauty; let a word be found misplaced, or a writer to speak of his poetry in a manner that may at thought ill-timed; in short, let any single times appear paradoxical: this remark of course can thread in general concord be. broken, and to which his eccentric genius sometimes descended. TASTE. 171 dices; but a false taste can only exist of harmony and grace. The presence of amongst the many, from the universality of taste being, however imperceptible, except the same impressions false to the principles by the absence of faults, it is difficult to of nature, and the same prejudices opposed bring forward instances in particular pasto the principles of good sense; a phenome- sages of the influence of this powerful but non which it is not often our misfortune to still indefinable charm. The following lines, behl)ld; and I should account for the ex- familiar to every reader, or rather every traordinary bias given to the public taste by admirer of poetry, are remarkable for their the works of Byron, as arising from the adaptation of language, and harmony of power of his genius rather than the pecu- sound. liarity of his style; and the generality of readers not giving themselves trouble to 11 PrimevalHope, the Aonian muses say, When man and nature mourn'd their first decay; make the distinction, they are still thirsting When every form of death, and every wo, for the same style, in the vain hope of find- Shot from malignant stars to earth below; ing it connected with the same genius. When Murder bared her arm, and rampant War Yoked the red dragons of her iron car; Happy would it be for mankind, for public When Peace and Mercy, banish'd from the plain, taste, and public morals, if the same mind, Sprung on the viewless winds to Heaven again; purified from all alloy, could return again to All, all forsook the friendless guilty mind, prfe provtohewrldthattheam But Hope, the charmer, linger'd still behind." earth, to prove to the world that the same power may be directed to higher purposes And in the description of the fate of the without losing its influence, and the same "hardy Byron," how perfectly does the beauty, and the same harmony, be touched sound of each line correspond with its sense, by a hand more true to the principles of flowing on like a continued stream of meloeternal happiness. dy, without interruption from any word or In looking for instances of the display of idea not purely poetical. taste in poetry, it is necessary to confine our observation to the present times; fopiring asid that bore The hardy Byron to his native shorehave before remarked, that which was in In horrid climes, where Chiloe's tempests sweep strict accordance with good taste a century Tumultuous murmurs o'er the troubled deep,'Twas his to mourn misfortune's rudest shock, agt, is not so now; because the different Scolrg'd by the winds, and cradled on the rock, customs and manners of' mankind have in- To wake each joyless morn, and search again troauced different associations; and expres- The famish'd haunts of solitary men; Whose race, unyielding as their native storm, sions which formely conveyed none but Know not a trace of nature but the form; elevated and refined ideas, are now connect- Yet, at thy call, the hardy tar pursued, ed with those of a totally different nature. Pale, but intrepid, sad, but unsubdued, Pierced the deep woods, and hailing from afar, We are inclined to think that the works The moon's pale planet, and the northern star: of Milton would have afforded the finest Paused at each dreary cry, unheard before, example of taste, as well as power, in the Hymenas in the wild, and mermaids on the shore; Till, led by thee o'er many a cliff' sublime, age in which he lived, because in cases IIe found a warmer world, a milder clime, where the senses have dominion —the ac- A home to rest, a shelter to defend, cordance of sense with sound, for instance- Peace and repose, a Briton and a friend!" he is inimitable. But the language of The idea conveyed in the following lines, Milton is sometimes too quaint for modern is well worthy of a poetic mind. Others ears, and in his pages we occasionally meet seem to have felt the same, but none have with single words that startle us with asso- done more ample justice to the feeling, than ciations foreign to what is now considered as the elegant bard from whom we quote. poetical. We cannot quote a more perfect example i" Who that would ask a heart tp dullness wed, of taste in modern language, than the writ- The waveless calm, the slumber of the dead X oforpotCmpel in which, espe No; the wild bliss of nature needs alloy, ings of our poet Campbell, in which, espe- And fear and sorrow fan the fire of joy! cially his Pleasures of Hope, it would be And say, without our hopes, without our fears, difficult to find an ill-chosen word, or an idea Without the home that plighted lov beauty won t in sithout the smile from partial beauty won, nDt in strict accordance with the principles Oh! what were man 1-a world without a sim." 172 THE POETRY OF LIFE. Anta when the poet exclaims, And we shall snare, my Christian boy! The foeman's blood, the avenger's joy. s Cease, every Joy, to glimmer on my mird,.. But leave-Oh! leave the light of Hope behind But hark, the trimp- to morrow thou What though my winged hours of bliss have beens fires shall dr thy tea,- n' I', In glory's fires shall dry thy tears: Like angel visits, few and far between,"- Even from the land of shadows now we feel that to such a mind, hope would My father's awful ghost appears, I r Amidst the clouds that round us roll come as a blessed messenger, whose tidings Am dst the clouds thfor battle round us rolltwould be of things sublime, and pure, and He bids me dry the last-the firstelevated above the low wants and wishes The Only tears that ever burst From Outalissi's soul; of a material existence. Because I may not stain with grief We know of but one word in the whole The death-song of an Indian chief." of this beautiful poem which is at variance Campbell's lines on leaving a scene in with good taste, and we quote the line, not Bavaria full of the deep pathos of poetic from the pleasure of pointing out a single feia o of the os pei r[ fi....P 2 *,,. l'.g feeling, afford one of the most splendid infault in the midst of a thousand merits, but for.the. purpose ofshowg. hstances of the power of that faculty, which or the purpose ot snowing how forcibly an c... w I I. ~ ~. ~. - _ can strike with the rapidity of thought the error in taste strikes upon the attention and the the feelings of the reader. chords of true harmony, and waken the genuine music of the soul-the echo of its ",The livinm lumber of his kindred earth." The living lumber of his drd earth. deep, but secret passions. We cannot read We are ready to imagine from this line. these lines without feeling that there is a that the author has scarcely been aware of language for the wounded spirit-a voice the high degree of beauty and refinement amidst the solitudes of that which pervades his work. "Lumber," in w hich/pervades his w ork.... in "Unknow n, unploughed, untrodden shore,' the poetical writings of Pope, might have occurred without any breach of taste, be- whose melancholy cadence is in unison with cause his concise and forcible style is more the feelings which we may not, dare not, utcharacterised by power, than elegance; and ter; and we inwardly bless the mournful lumber might. therefore, have been in keep- minstrel for the wild sweet melody of his ing with the general tone of his expressions. most harmonious lyre. Were we to attempt But here, where all is music to the ear, and to quote passages from these lines, the harmony to the mind, this uncouth word is temptation would extend to the whole of this decidedly out of place; and while longing inimitable poem, we can only recommend it to exchange it for another, we can only to the reader as one of the finest specimens wonder that there should be but one small of poetic taste, as well as poetic feeling, blemish in so many fair and beautiful pages which our language affords. of genuine poetry, adorned throughout After all that has been said on the subwith the most tender, refined, and elevated ject, we feel that taste is something to be thoughts. felt, rather than defined, yet of such unparGertrude of Wyoming is another poem alleled importance to the poet, that wanting strikingly illustrative of the influence of this requisite, he may sing for ever, and yet taste. In the death-song of the Indian sing in vain. As well might the musician chief, we observe how skilfully the poet has expect to charm his audience, by playing blended the indignant spirit of an injured what he assures them is the finest music, on man, with the strong affections, wild meta- a broken or defective instrument, as the 1hors, and wilder visions, of that interesting poet hope to please without making himand dignified people. self thoroughly acquainted with the princi"And I could weep;-th' Oneyda chief ples of taste-perhaps we should rather uHis descant wildly tustbegan; say, with what is, or is not in accordance But that I may not stain with grief. f The death-song of my father's son! with its rules, for as a principle, taste has Or bow this head in wo; not yet arrived at a definite state of existFor by my wrongs and by my wrath! ence; and if the young poet should read To-morrow Areouski's breath, (That fires yon heaven with storms and death,) The pleasures of Hope' with reference to Shall light us to the foe: this subject, and not feel in his very soul the.l~~~~~~~~____.... ______ CONCLUSION. 173| presence and the power of taste, he might exercise of imagination We should rather bid adieu to the worship of the muses, and say, that its sphere of action is widened to devote his genius to objects less elevated an incalculable extent. Is there any thing and sublime. that weakens the mind, or destroys its native power? No. The habits of the present race of men are distinguished by indefatigable industry, and general application. and regulated by those laws of strict and I CONCLUSION. unremitting discipline, which are universally acknowledged to strengthen the unWr. have now examined the four requi- derstanding, and invigorate the mental fasites for writing poetry, to none of which it culties. Is there any thing to warp the pubwould be wise to assign a station of pre- lie taste, and establish a false standard ot eminence, because they are equally neces- merit? Never since the world began, were sary to the success of the poet's art-impres- mankind more penetrating, and at the same sion to furnish lasting ideas, imagination to time more extensive in their observations, create images from such ideas, power to more universally free from the shackles of strike them out with emphasis and truth, tyranny and superstition, as well as from all and taste to recommend such as are worthy uniformly prevailing prejudice, than now. of approbation, and to dismiss such as It is clear then, that the deficiency in our are not. We have also been daring poetical enjoyments arises from a want of enough to maintain that poetry, as a princi- the due proportion of clear and deep imple, pervades all nature, and if the fact be pressions. We have not stored up the neacknowledged that poetry is neither writ- cessary materials for imagination, power, ten with that ardour, nor read with that de- and taste to work with, and therefore the light, which characterised an earlier era in machinery of the mind, so far as relates to our history, it becomes an important and in- poetry, remains inactive. We possess not teresting inquiry, HWhat is the cause? the key to its secret harmonies, and thereThat imagination should be exhausted, is fore the language of poetry is unintelligible a moral impossibility; because the creation to our ears. of a thousand images in no way disquali- The, silence of our ablest poets, and the fies for the creation of a thousand more; want of any leading or distinguished poem any one quality extracted from a former to fill up the present vacuum in our literaimage, and added to the whole or a part of ture, sufficiently prove the fact to which we another, being sufficient for the creation of allude. The last popular work of this kind one, that shall appear to the world entirely that issued from our press, was " The Course original or new. That power should be ex- of Time;" but its popularity rather resempended, is no less an absurdity in thought; bled an instantaneous flash, than a steady because that being the vital principle by and lasting light. It forced its way in the which thoughts are generated, man can flush of the moment to every respectable only cease to think when he ceases to feel, library in the kingdom-was read with wonland only cease to feel when he ceases to der-closed with satisfaction-and, what exist. And that taste should have lost its is very remarkable, affords no quotations. influence over the human mind, is equally Since this time we have had none to awaken at variance with common sense; because a general interest. We see many noticed with increased facility in collecting and by thereviewers-kindly and encouragingly comparing evidence for the establishment of noticed, and we doubt not their title to such true excellence, taste must unavoidably be- approbation; but we do not deny ourselves come more definite in its nature, and more one ordinary indulgence that we may buy determinate in its operations. Beyond this, them, or when they are bought, look upon we may ask, is there any thing in the cus- them as a solid mass of substantial happiness toms, occupations, or mode of education pe- set apart for our private and insatiable enculiar to the present day, which hinders the jo)-ment. We do not reverence the authors l174 THE POETRY OF LIFE. of our felicity, as if they were beings of a moon. We have attempted to prove, that gifted order, endowed with a superhuman the same beauty, and the same connexion capacity of penetrating into the souls of men. with refined and elevated thought may still We do not listen when they tell us of our be found in the external world, and that the own secret passions, as if we heard the mu- soul of man is still animated by the same sic of an inspired minstrel, nor when they passions and affections, as when genius sing of the revolutions of time, as if a potent kindled the fire of poetry, and, lighting up and oracular voice dealt out the destiny of the charms and the wonders of creation, mankind. Either we have grown indifferent, stimulated the enthusiasm of him who and heedless, and almost deaf to the lan- deems himself " creation's heir." It follows guage of poetry, or the spirit of the art has then as a necessary consequence, that the ceased to operate in producing those harmo- connexion between man and nature, is not nious numbers that were wont to charm the the same; that he holds no longer the spiritworld. ual converse with all things sweet and lovely, Yet when the facilities for acquiring know- solemn and sublime, in the external world, ledge are multiplying every day, when it has that was wont to fill his soul with admiration become almost as difficult to remain un- and love, and to instruct his heart in the learned, as to learn, when the infant mind is feeling of the presence of an invisible intellitrained up to the continual application of its gence, connected with his own being by the faculties in all the different branches of art indissoluble bond of sympathy, real or imand science, when the memory is stored with aginary. Man now studies nature as a map, a fund of information which at one time rather than a picture-with reference to lowould have been deemed incredible, when cality, rather than beauty. He sees the not only the ordinary and beaten track of whole, but he studies only the separate learning is thrown open to the multitude, but parts, and to his systematic mind, the vegeflowery and meandering paths are devised table, animal, and mineral kingdoms, are to entice, and woo, and charm into the bow- distinct subjects of consideration, scarcely I ers of academic lore, is it possible there can to be thought of in the same day. He looks be any defect or disadvantage in the general around him with microscopic eye, and if his system upon which youth is trained? attention fixes upon the rich and varied If it be the ultimate ainl of mankind to foliage of the ancient forest, it is to single ascertain of what materials the world is out particular specimens of trees and plants, made, and out of these materials to construct and to class them according to Linnmus; new facilities for bodily enjoyment, that we while from the musical inhabitants of these may eat more luxuriously, move more rapid- woods, he selects his victims, and applies the ly, repose more softly, clothe more sumptu- same minute examination to the organs from ously, and in short, live more exempt from whence the sweetest melody of nature flows. mental, as well as bodily exertion, I should The idle butterfly, fluttering above his woodanswer, that the present system of education, land path, or resting upon the unsullied peand the general tone of thought and conver- tals of the delicate wild rose, has neither sation, was the best that could possibly be charm nor beauty in his eye, unless he devised. But in looking at the means, we counts the spots upon its wing. The mounare too apt to disregard the end. In devot- tain rises in the distance, and he hastens to ing our endeavours to the attainment of examine the strata of which it is composed. knowledge, to forget the attainment of wis- The vapours roll beneath him, and he pondom; and take credit to ourselves for having ders upon the means of their production. spent an active life, when it has been wholly The stars are shining above in all the maunproductive of any increase in the means of jesty of cloudless night, and he counts the happiness, except what mere activity affords. number, and calculates the distance of the We know that nature is no less capable of worlds of light. producing poetical ideas, than it was when All these we freely grant are right and gifted men were inspired by the cool shade, fitting occupations for a rational and intelthe glowing sunshine, or the radiance of the lectual being; but when pursuits of this CONCLUSION. 175 kind, instead of the end to which they lead, not arise, in the first place from the competiare made the sole business of man's life, the tion, and the consequent labour that is now natural consequence must be, to render him actually necessary to secure the means of familiar indeed with nature, but familiar on subsistence; and in the second, from the pubsuch terms that he is in danger of forfeiting lic mind being too fully occupied with the achis reverence for the creator, and losing quisition of mere knowledge, to allow time sight of the connexion between the material for receiving deep impressions, without and the moral world. which it is impossible either to write, or to We are not so blindly wedded to the va- feel poetically. If, for instance, in the cases garies of imagination as to speak of this already specified, the attention be wholly thirst for definite knowledge, as an evil. occupied in ascertaining the precise form of Far from it. But when the unenlightened, a leaf, where will be the impression of the or the imbecile mind becomes infected with majestic beauty of the forest? if in dissectthis fever of acquisition; when the juvenile ing the organs of sense, what general idea philosopher is merely talking about what he can be formed of the melody of sound? if ought to feel; when the puny artist no in examining the wing of the butterfly, what sooner beholds a tree, than he thinks it ne- observation can be made upon its airy and cessary to sketch it; when the student of fantastic flight? if in discovering the comnature tears in pieces every bird and insect ponent parts of a cloud, how should the that falls within his grasp; when books graceful involutions of the cloud be seen? without number are eagerly inquired for, if in chiseling out minute fragments from looked into, laid aside, and never under- the side of the mountain, how should a deep stood; when the finished and fully-educated sense of its grandeur pervade the soul? or young lady displays her knowledge of the if in merely counting the stars as separate phraseology of foreign languages, and her spots of light, where will be the lasting imignorance of the spirit of her own; when press of their glory? the youthful metaphysician discourses elo- The modern observer having had little quently upon the nature and laws of mind time, and less inclination for the relative;mnd matter, and hears with total vacuity of ideas which the contemplation of such objects understanding that there is a moral law; affords to the poetic mind, they pass away we cannot help feeling tnat something is fromhis thoughts as soon as his practical purwanting of the ultimate end of education, pose has been fulfilled, and never afterwards and that the mind may be stored with are recalled as links in the chain of associaknowledge, and yet be too ignorant of the tion connecting the material with the ideal right means of applying that knowledge to world. When the wild winds of autumn render its possessor wise. sweep the many tinted leaves from the forThe man of comprehensive mind, capable est; like the ruder blasts of a less physical of appreciating all things according to their calamity, despoiling the fair pictures of real value, will cultivate this knowledge of spiritual beauty; the summer garniture of material things for the sake of the truths green and golden foliage lives no longer in which it establishes, and the consequences remembrance. The woodland songster to which it leads; and will no more content breathes no more; and the living voice that himself with this examination of external answered the universal language of nature nature, than the sculptor will rest satisfied from the fields, the groves, and the silvery with having discovered the block of marble, waterfalls, is forgotten. The butterfly that out of which his figure is to be formed. lately fluttered round him like a winged If the question might be asked without flower escaped from Flora's coronet, a spotimplying an ignorant and stupid want of ted specimen of a particular tribe-classed reverence for knowledge in general, we according to its name, lies before him faded, should propose for the consideration of those and lifeless, and dismantled of its beautywho regret the absence of poetry from the the memory of its aerial rambles extinguishworld of letters, whether the defect so obvi- ed with its transient and joyous life. The ous in the literature of the present day, may cloud has passed, and all its graceful -and L _ _ _ 176 THE POETRY OF LIFE. fantastic wreaths of mingled mist and light, pain; and it is this love, or this hatred, exfloating upon the pure ocean of celestial tending though an illimitable number of deblue, like a spirit half earthly half divine, grees and modifications, which constitutes wandering on its upward journey to the the very essence of poetry and which, were realms of bliss, have vanished with the sun- poetry struck out from the world would disapbeams that gave a short-lived glory to its pear along with it, and leave us nothing but a ephemeral existence. The lofty and majes- mere corporeal existence, unconnected with tic mountain no longer rises on the view; the attributes of an imperishable and eterand his towering summit pointing to the nal life. sky, the deep ravines that cross and inter- It may be a subject of something more sect his rugged sides like the foot prints of than curiosity, to ask what the world would the retiring deluge-the light upon his be without poetry. In the first place we golden brow, and the dark shadows that must strike out beauty from the visible crealie beneath like the frown of a mighty mon- tion, and love from the soul of man. We arch whose will is life or death-all these must annihilate all that has been devised have passed away from thought and memory, for ornament or delight, without a bodily and a tiny particle of stone-a grain ofgran- and material use. We should no longer ite remains in the hand of the modern philoso- need a centre of light and glory to illupher, as his sole memorial of a mountain. minate the world, beut the same principle Or when he grasps the telescope, and strains of light uniformly diffused, without reflechis eye to count the stars; before his labours tion, and without shadow, would supply the cease, a dim line of light begins to mark out practical purposes of man. The moon the eastern horizon, and one after another might hide her radiance, and the stars the stars retire before the brighter radiance might vanish, or remain only as spots of of ascending day, like guardian angels who black upon a dusky sky, to guide the nightly have watched the wanderer through his traveller, and lead the adventurous bark dark, and dubious, and earthly way, relin- across the sea. Half the feathered songquishing their faithful trust before the un- sters of the woods might plume their wings fo ding gates of Heaven. But the mere man for an eternal flight, and the rest might of science retires into his closet, and pricks cease from their vocal music, and let the out the constellations in separate spots, bet- woods be still. Rivers and running streams ter satisfied to have ascertained the percep- might glide on without a ripple or a murtible number of stars in any given section of mur-reflecting no sunshine-adding nothe hemisphere, than to have felt their light, thing to the harmony of nature; and the their glory, and their magnificence, reign- ocean might lie beneath a heaven withing and ruling over the midnight world. out clouds or colour, stretched out in the We repeat, that no mind can be poetical waveless repose of never-ending sleep. whose exercise is confined to mere physical The trees might rear their massive trunks observation, and whose sphere of action ex- without their leafy mantle of varied green, Cludes all those modes of receiving and re- the flowers might bow their heads and die; taining impressions which are either imme- and the wild weeds of the wilderness that diately or remotely connected with the feel- weave themselves into a carpet of rich and ings, the passions, and the affections. varied beauty, might perish from the earth The nature of our being admits of two and leave its surface barren and unclothed. important distinctions-physical and moral. Of animal life, the beasts of burden, and And it is the great merit of poetry, that it the fleshly victims of man's appetite, would constitutes an indissoluble bond of union be- alone remain; while in man himself, we tween the two. We could not have been must extinguish his affections, and render sensible of the different nature of good and void his capacity to admire; and having evil, but for our capacity of receiving plea- moulded the creation to a uniform corressure and pain. It is thus we learn to love pondence with his earthly and coporeal n,whatever is conducive to our happiness-to ture, we must leave him to the exercise ca hate er avoid whatever is productive of his faculties-first, to see, without beholding CONCLUSION. 177 beauty- to hear, without distinguishing | principle in art, after he ceased to recognise harmony from discord, or to distinguish it it nature. As the facilities for bodily enwithout preference-to esteem the effluvium joyment are multiplied, improved, and reof the stagnant pool as delicate an odour as fined, man becomes luxurious and artificial the perfume of the rose-to taste without in his habits. He withdraws from all famiregard to flavour-and to feel with equal liar acquaintance with natural things, and indifference the downy pillow, or the rude surrounds himself with all that is curious in couch where the hardy peasant seeks re- human invention, and exquisite in the work pose. Then in the higher regions of his of human hands. But still the principles of mental faculties, to observe, without any beauty, derived from external nature, pursue sense of sublimity —to calculate without ar- the slave of art, and he studies how to imiriving at an idea of infinity-to measure, tate the variety, the splendour, and the magwithout reference to illimitable space-to re- nificence, which the meanest peasant may sist, without forming a conception of abso- enjoy in greater perfection, without invenlute power-to build without reflecting upon tion, and without price. duration-to pull down, without looking for- Perception of beauty is one of the most ward to annihilation. And in the vacant decided characteristics, by which man is sphere of passion and affection, to receive distinguished from the brute. We discover benefits, and remain insensible to favour- no symptoms of admiration in animals of a to stand on the brink of destruction, without lower grade than ourselves. The peacock terror-to await the result of experiment, excites no deference from the splendour of without hope-to meet without pleasure-to his plumage, nor the swan from her snow part without grief —and to live on with the white feathers, and the verdant fields in same uniformity of existence, without emo- their summer bloom, attract no more, than tion-not idle, for that would imply a sense as their flowery sweets allure the insect of the pain of labour, and the pleasure of tribe, who in their turn are followed by their repose; but perpetually active, yet active foes. To man alone belongs the prerogawithout desire. Such would be the world, tive of appreciating beauty because admiraand such the condition of man, were all that tion is graciously designed as the means of appertains to the nature of poetry extinct. leading him on to moral excellence. Were it possible to, concentrate the dark There are philosophers who argue against features of this gloomy picture into a small the existence of positive enjoyment. I am compass, it would be in the simple idea of ignorant, and I feel no anxiety to learn what the exclusion of beauty from nature, or of they can say to prove that admiration,the perception of beauty from the soul of true admiration, untainted by the remotest man. Beauty is not necessary to our bodily touch of envy, is not positive enjoymentexistence, Nature would afford the same that, when the soul expands with a concepcorporeal support, did we look upon her va- tion of excellence, unseen, unknown, unfelt ried character with a total absence of all before-of excellence, not merely as it resense of admiration. Why then is this inef- lates to fitness for physical purposes; but of fable charm diffused through all creation, that which combines the principles of intelits essence so mingled with man's nature, lectual beauty, with the attributes of our that where he finds food for admiration, he moral nature-excellence which leads us finds intellectual enjoyment; and where he into a new world of thought to expatiate in finds it not, he thirsts for it as for a fountain fields of glory, and to drink of the waters of of excellence, until he works his way immortality, it knows no positive enjoyment. through difficulty and dangers to partici- For never was the enlightened mind excited pate, even in the smallest measure, of its in- to the highest sense of admiration, without exhaustible supply of pure and natural re- feeling an extension of being beyond the freshment. narrow limits of mortal life; and this exThat this insatiable desire for beauty forms pansion naturally conducts us into a sphere a part of the constitution of man, is suffi- of illimitable felicity. Hence arise the difciently proved by his still following the same ferent heavens which mankind have con12 178 THE POETRY OF LIFE. structed for themselves out of the materials their number, and the greater facility with of earthly enjoyment, and hence our inter- which their influence has been diffused. nal evidence of the belief, that the true hea- It may be answered, that we have still ven promised tothe faithful, will comprehend the works of these poets to refer to for all that we pine fbr of happiness, all that we amusement and instruction. And are we admire of beauty, and more than all that we to rest in this low and languid satisfaction, can conceive of excellence. which extends to nothing but our poetry? This intense perception of beauty-this We have the same conveniences of life tribute of the heart to excellence-this ad- which belonged to our forefathers; are we miration of physical and thence of moral satisfied with them? The same use of magood, which dignifies the mind with the chinery; are we satisfied with that? We noblest aims, is so nearly allied to poetic have the same knowledge of the surface of feeling, that we question whether one could the globe-we can count the same number exist without the other; and if the diminu- of stars-and class the same kinds of anition of poetic fervour be symptomatic of a mals and plants; and are we satisfied? We decreased capacity of admiration, we have have the same knowledge of chemistry, to look, not only to the depreciated character electricity, hydrostatics, optics, and gravitaof our literature, but of our taste, and our tion; and yet we are not satisfied. No:morals. Nor is this view of the subject too the principle of improvement-the desire of widely extended to be supported by reason, progress, extends through every manual since the first step to improvement is to ad- occupation, through every branch of science, %. mire what is better-the nearest approach and through every variety of art, and leaves to perfection, to admire all things worthy, the region of poetry a void, for future ages in their true proportion-and to admire that to wonder at, and despise. It is our ambi- i most which is supremely good. tion to impress upon the page of history the Is it then a thing of small importance that advance that has been made in every other we should cease to admire? that we should field of intellectual operation; but we are lose, not only the most brilliant portion of satisfied that history should record a time our literature, but the happiest moments of when the genius of the English nation cast our existence? We have observed what a off the wreath of poesy, and trampled her void would be left in the natural world by brightest glories in the dust-when the harp the extinction of poetic feeling, we have of these once melodious isles was silent — now to consider what a void would be left and when the march of Britain's mind was in the world of letters by the absence of unaccompanied by the music of her affe- poetry as an art. We must not only seal tions. up the fountain from whence flows the me- Next in importance to the impressions lody that has softened down the asperities derived immediately from nature, are those of our own passions; but turning to the derived from books, which if less obvious to page of history, and tracing back the con- the senses, and consequently less distinct, nexion of civilization with poetry, we must instruct the mind with greater facility and strike out from the world the influence of precision; and we behold another cause of the mighty genius of Homer, in refining the the absence of deep impressions, in the exmanners of a barbarous people, in trans- cessive reading which characterises the mitting to posterity a faithful record of their present times. It is not certainly the most national and social character, and in kind- gracious mode of pointing out the evil, for ling in other minds the sparks of embryo those who multiply books to complain of genius, from that ancient period down to the their being read; but by excessive reading present time. And if the influence of this we desire to be understood to refer to that single poet be insufficient to establish the voracious appetite for books which exceeds general importance of poetry, we have that the power of digestion. of other poets, inferior perhaps in their indi- Time was when a well-written book had t vidual power, but deriving importance from an identity in the hearts of its readers-a CONCLUSION. 179 place in memory, and almost in affection- visions of celestial and infernal beings were its choice passages referred to for illustra- arrayed in the glory of his own genius, or tion on every momentous occasion, and its shadowed out by the mighty power of his pointed aphorisms quoted as indisputable majestic mind. evidence of truth. Through the sentiments It is not thus in the present day. Books cf the author, we became acquainted with are now spoken of as certain quantities of his personal character, and took him with printed paper; and authors, a class of men l us into solitude as a companion who would too numerous to be distinguished, mix with never weary; and into society as the sup- the multitude, creating less emotion by their porter of our arguments, and the prompter bodily presence, than the bare idea of an of our most brilliant thoughts. author created formerly. This general difSuch were the times when Goldsmith, fusion of knowledge-this removal of the Addison, and Johnson, accompanied us in barriers by which literature has hitherto the circle of daily communion with our fel- been restricted to an enlightened few, is unlow creatures, and we looked around us, and questionably a national, and public good; discovered the same principles of thought but it calls for a greater effort of intellectual and action which their minds had suggested, power to render the influence of mind as pot operating through all the links of human tent as it is extensive. Unless this effort is fellowship, through all the changes of world- made, the effect of the present system will ly vicissitude, and through all the varieties be, to generalize the principle of intelligence of station and circumstance in which man- so as to neutralize the two extremes, which the same being, is to be found. Such were have separated the highly-gifted from the the times, when by every mountain side, or wholly-unenlightened; and while the lower "wimpling burn," we found the versatile class of minds are better taught, and better spirit of Burns, animated by the fresh invig- cultivated, the averag.e of talent will be the orating breeze of morning; or, leaning in same, because we shall want the light of musing attitude over the arch of the rustic those brilliant geniuses that rose like suns bridge, and listening to the melodious flow amid a world of stars. of the rippling stream as it worked its It is necessary, therefore, not that we i way through rocks and reeds, scorning to should read fewer books, but that we should i linger in its woodland course, even beneath read them more studiously; and as knowthe fascination of a poet's gaze-we saw his ledge is advancing with rapid strides, that i keen eye mrark the flight of the " whirring we should endeavor to keep pace with it, by! partridge," and then look wistfully upon its a more definite application of solid thought fall, as if he rued the deed; orhe has turned to the subjects laid before us in such numi upon us with the lively sallies of his play- ber and variety. It is the mode of reading, ful wit, half pathos, half satire, but ever the not the number of books read, that forms the genuine language of a noble heart, and a sum of the evil here alluded to; and we appoetic soul. Such were the times, when we peal to any one conversant with the society shaped out our own ideas, and traced them of the present day, whether it is not wearito their origin, according to the principles of some to the ear, to listen to the catalogue of i Locke, whose very soul was mingled with names of books, and names of authors, which i the atmosphere of our private studies, watch- form the substance of general conversaton, Iing over the eccentric flights of Imagination, (except where politics take precedence of and calling back the mind to its proper ex- literature, and the names of public men are i ercise upon sensible or definite things. Such substituted for the nature of public measures,) I were the times, when every flower, and instead of the facts those books record, the every tree, was associated with the fairer arguments they maintain, the truth they flowers and loftier trees of Milton's Paradise; establish, or the genius which adorns their ] when our conceptions of peace, and purity, pages; and still less do we hear of the man. iand happiness, were immediately derived ner in which they develope the nature and from his descriptions of the short-lived inno- principles of the mind of the writer. cence of our first parents; and when our When we behold the piles of heterog 180 THE POETRY OF LIFE. neous literature, which not only fill the libra- a level with the author, leaving behind it. ries of the learned, but load the tables of the when the book is closed, a freshness, a vigoui man of business-not books which have de- and a capacity of production, like that which scended from his forefathers, and will remain follows the retiring waters of a rich and feran hleir-loom in his family for ages yet to tilizing stream. come, to be read some twenty years hence When the best mode of remedying an when he shall have retired to the quiet of the evil is beyond our reach, we naturally and suburbs, and the comfort of a gouty chair; wisely adopt the next best. Thus, instead but books beyond count, voluminous and of allowing our ideas to be diluted, diffused, large, poured in as the circulating medium and rendered indefinite by this overwhelmof a literary society, to be read in five days, ing tide of literature, if we cannot gain more and then forwarded under the penalty of a time for reading, nor quicken our underfine, to the next happy member of the club; standings by a fresh impetus, we should do when we know too that the gentleman comes well to read some books attentively, thoughthome from his office at six in the evening, fully, and feelingly: and what if we do go and returns to it at nine the next day, his into society wholly ignorant even of the intervals of leisure including the necessary names of others, we may perform the useoccupatlonsofdining and sleeping; and when ful part of listeners, and shall no more sacriwe know that his wife (a reader also) has se- fice our claim to intellectual merit by such ven children, a sick governess, and two idle ignorance, than we shall forfeit our title to servants, and that half her days are spent in the admiration awarded to personal embelimparting or receiving the felicity of morning lishment, by not iwearing a specimen of every calls; when we add to this the subscription of gem. the same individuals to three or four libraries Every stage of civilization, as well as for the benefit of their children, as well as every condition of civilized society, is marked of themselves, and the necessity of glancing by some strong characteristics which indithrough all the books that fall into the hands cate the prevailing and national tone of of their boys and girls; bu4 above all, when manners and morals, as well as what are i we turn over the pile of books, look at their the chief objects of intellectual pursuit. By titles, and see-A treatise on the character- conversation we obtain the most immediate, istics of mind-A key to paper currency- and by literature the most profound knowThe lives of all the heroes-General obser- ledge of what these characteristics are, and vations on the visible creation-System of what they denote. We should say in fabanking detailed-Antediluvian remains — miliar language, that utility was the order Interior of the earth explained-London, of the present day; and such unquestionaand its inhabitants-Refutation of the Ma- bly should be the aim of every well directed homedan creed-The world at one view- mind; but there is a physical, and moral with voyages. and travels to every section utility connected with the two distinctions of the earth's surface;-when we consider all of our nature, and it is a subject of no small this, we can only wonder at the prodigious importance to inquire, which of these discompass of the minds of those who imagine tinct portions of our being is most producit possible for them to read, mark, and pro- tive of happiness, and consequently most perly digest the contents of these books worthy of cultivation. within the stated period allowed for their The utility to which we now generally perusal; and still more we wonder at hear- appeal in computing the value of our own ing it fearlessly asserted that they have been endeavours, or those of the rest of mankind, read. is chiefly confined to physical advantages, It is not necessary to ask, what definite and operates by material agency. The impressions we recei;e from this style of utility which ought to be the ultimate aim reading, which is indmeed a mockery of that of every enlightened being, comprehends vital participation in the elements of another, all that ennobles and exalts the mind. In the and a more enlightened mind, whose influ- facilities now invented for the acquisition of ence.s to raise that of the reader almost to knowledge of every kind; in the increased CONCLUSION 181 cultivation and dissemination of letters; in nature of good and evil, and that these the assistance afforded to individual re- views are acted upon, because the good we search, by public institutions and societies perceive is present and obvious, while that of every description for the concentration with which it ought to be compared is reand diffusion of talent, we see the means by mote. But when a man whose sole subsiswhich the nature and condition of man is to tence d epends upon the produce of his garbe improved; but if we limit our views to den. preferring ease and indolence to acthese means, and rest satisfied with the oc- tivity and labour, suffers that garden to run cupation, and activity necessarily accom- to waste, it is not because he is ignorant of panying the attainment of knowledge, we the consequences that must ensue, but beshall never behold the desirable end-the cause he has learned to love the gratificaattainment of wisdom-which we under- tion of corporeal inclination more than any stand to mean, the application of knowledge other thing, and therefore he determines to so as to produce the greatest sum of moral obtain it at any risk. The fact is, that in I good. such cases, our mental calculations are geThat knowledge is not happiness, we are nerally more numerous, and more correct, taught by the experience of our own hearts, than we are willing to acknowledge to the 1l by the observation of every day, and by the world, and while we act from the immediate l undying record of the king of Israel, who impulse of desire, we disown all conviction knew and felt, perhaps more deeply than that we could have acted better, in order to any other man, the harassing and destruc- lessen our culpability in the eyes of others. tive conflict of high intellectual powers at The first stirrings of desire arise out of war with ungoverned passions, and an ill- sensation, long before we are capable of esI regulated will. timating good and evil. We feel the imThe cultivation of the intellectual facul- pressions of pleasure and pain, consequently ties can only lead us to a knowledge of the we desire to repeat the one, and to avoid the nature of things generally. It cannot in- other; and as we are long in understanding I spire us with an ardent desire to appropriate the pleasure remotely derived from virtue, I some, and to avoid others. Unless as some so it is long before we see the necessity of i philosophers maintain, we only need to know cultivating our moral nature in such a mani what is best, and our preference for it will ner as to enable us willingly to sacrifice the f i follow, as a necessary consequence. It may lesser good for the greater, and to love mosti be a weak, and certainly it is a womanly what is intrinsically best. In the mean I mode of reasoning, to argue that we must time the mind is gaining new impressions of be taught, not only to know, but to love a less and less corporeal nature, and as they what is best, because desire arises entirely are invariably accompanied with some de-' out of a moral, as knowledge arises out of gree of pleasure or pain, the desire natu-! an intellectual process. It arises in fact out rally belonging to the sensation of pleasure i of our early impressions of pleasure and gains additional strength, and fresh impulse, pain, and is so distinct from a knowledge of until it gradually assumes the warmth and the quality of the thing desired, as not un- vitality of affection, which prompts us to frequently to be at variance with our judg- seek certain things in preference to others, ment, and to lead us in pursuit of what we perhaps more worthy of our regard, and know to be unproductive of ultimate good. sometimes to obtain them at any cost, andl Hence arise all the wilful errors committed at the risk of any consequence. by mankind, errors so evident and so nume- As it is of infinitely more importance rous, that we can only envy the philoso- what we are, than what we know; and as pher who looked upon the conduct of his our moral conduct is more influenced by fellow creatures, and upon his own heart, what we love, than by what we understand, yet saw and felt no desire except for what because we naturally pursue that which we he believed to be morally excellent. love best, rather than that which we know We are told that the errors which are to be so; so in order that our desires, and committed arise from mistaken views of the consequently our affections, may be properly |182 THE POETRY OF LIFE. directed, it is necessary that all our impres- Cesar's character-his ambition. But who sions connected with the nature of good in that motley crowd regarded Caesar's amand evil should be distinct and durable, and bition, unless it touched himself? The soul founded upon truth: and the science which of Brutus was capable of apprehending in leads to the proper selection and arrange- the ambition of one man, an enemy to the ment of early impressions-the origin of many-a destroyer of the rights and the desire-the direction of the affections, and liberties of the Roman people; but it was consequently the formation of the moral an evil too remote for the multitude to be I character, is that which we would earnestly impressed with, and though they offered a Irecommend to the attention of the busy prompt, and at the moment a sincere ac1public, as conducive to the highest and most knowledgement, that what Brutus had said j lasting utility. was just and true, we see how soon they i It is with this view of the subject of utility, could turn, and listen, and grow furious, that the writer of these pages has dwelt so under the influence of that master-piece of long upon the nature and importance of eloquence, by which Mark Antony gradually poetry, and laboured (it may be fruitlessly led their attention away from Caesar's amto others, but certainly not without enjoy- bition, and the remote idea they might have ment to hersel;) to enforce the desirableness formed of its consequences, to the bloody of cultivating poetry as an art, and of cher- spectacle of his bleeding body, the gaping ishing poetic feeling as a source of intellec- wounds still testifying that it was the hand tual enjoyment. of a friend-a loved and trusted friend, that Upon the principle of our desires arising had shed the proudest blood in Rome. out of our impressions of pleasure and pain, ut yesterday the word of Cesar might there is an importance-a wisdom in poetry, Have stood against the world; now lies he there, beyond what a superficial observation would And none so poor to do him reverence." lead us to suppose. It is because poetry Lest the people should not be sufficiently addresses itself immediately to our feelings, excited by this spectacle-by what they and appeals to the evidence of our individual could all immediately understand-the direct impressions to attest its truth, that it becomes infliction of cruelty, the artful orator makes a powerful engine of instruction, enforcing another appeal to their feelings, which imwhile it inculcates, and stimulating while it mediately strikes home. He tells them of teaches. If while we learn an important CEsar's will, from which they were indi1 truth, we have the testimony of our feelings vidually and personally to derive benefit, to confirm it, how much stronger is the irn- and then the fire he had so studiously enpression? The orator whose object is to deavoured to kindle burst forth, and weeprouse the public mind to indignation and ing for Coesar as for a public benefactor —a violence, and active force against a tyrant, patriot-a god, they direct the fury of or a usurper, does not merely argue upon their indignation against the conspirators, 1 the natural rights of man, and the principles and threaten the direst vengeance upon the of law and justice; but he calls the atten- head of Brutus. tion of the people to their ruined homes, to This appeal is in strict accordance with their desolate hearths, and draws pictures the spirit of poetry, which convinces not so of the hunger, and want, and squalid misery much by the evidence of what we kliow, as with which they are too feelingly acquainted. what we feel. It required time for the RoWe have a striking instance of the dif- mans to reflect upon the nature of ambition, i ference between addressing the judgment, and evTen then they could not bring home its and addressing the feelings, in the two ora- remote consequences to the conviction of tions on the death of Julius Cmesar, delivered their bosoms; but they were instantaneousby Brutus and Mark Antony. Brutus, ly impressed with horror on beholding the whose noble mind disdains all artifice, ap- lacerated body of Cwesar, they all felt that peals at once to the " wisdom" of the people, the friends in whom he had trusted should and j lstifies the fatal deed he has just com- have been the very last to do the blcody mitted, by dwelling upon one single stain in deed, and they felt also that the man, who CONCLUSION. 18 while he lived had formed those generous are desirable from its own vivid impressions plans for their benefit which his will attested, of the sensations of pleasure. When we I i, ought in his death to be lamented and teach a moral lesson of practical difficulty avenged. and pain, it is still in the same way, by com-t If sufficient had not already been said to paring present suffering with the greater [ establish the fact, that the influence of poetry and more lasting happiness that will ensue; arises from its connexion with our feelings, and when one individual is to benefit by the we might refer to the history of all nations, suffering of another, we point out the internal in whose early stages of civilization, poetry satisfaction attending all benevolent actions, has held a prominent part. And why? Be- and the general happiness of a life of duty. cause in describing what is beautiful, or re- Without enjoyment, we should be without fined, or conducive to happiness, it has been desire, and without desire, we should be supported by principles inherent in the without action-we should also be without I human mind-principles upon which are love —without every good and virtuous im-! founded our impressions of pleasure and pulse, and above all, we should be without I pain. Knowledge iih its prosaic form, as it gratitude; for those who endeavour to teach is usually conveyed into the mind, can only the duty of gratitude, while they withhold instruct; but poetry charms while it in- the means of innocent enjoyment, are guilty structs. Knowledge requires the evidence of an insult to common sense, and a preof facts, and the aid of reflection, and reason- sumptuous violence of the benign plan of ing to establish its truth. Poetry teaches by Providence. a different process. Telling of others what How different is the dealing of the Creawe experience in ourselves, it engages in the tor with his creatures! How much has he cause of truth, all that we fear of evil, and spread before them of beauty and sublimity i all that we desire of good; and sometimes How prodigally has he blessed their exisin the fabulous history of imaginary beings, tence with sweetness and harmony, for which imparts the profoundest knowledge of the we can imagine no other purpose than that principles of thought and action. of promoting the happiness of his dependent It remains only to add a few remarks on children, and of leading them by their expethe subject of happiness, as connected with rience of temporal enjoyment, to desire that our condition in the present world. There which is eternal. For how should we form! are rigid disciplinarians who regard enjoy- a conception of happiness, having had no l ment as a dangerous appendage to that con- impression of pleasure; or how should we i ditionwho, shrinking from the idea of en- desire it, having had no foretaste of enjoyjoyment as an end in itself worthy of attain- ment? i ment, look upon it rather as a snare to lure It follows then, that there is utility in beI us into hidden mischief. If enjoyment is of ing innocently happy —utility of the most exino importance to our being, (we might say tensive compass, and the highest character, to our qoell being,) why then is beauty dif- which poetry is of all our intellectual purfused throughout creation, or why is the suits most capable of promoting. Let us principle of happiness derived from beauty then no longer reject this heaven-born mesimplanted in the soul of man? What, in senger of a more refined and spiritual exis- i short, is the value of anything without en- tence; but let us call with united voice upjoyment, either immediate or remote? For, on our silent minstrels, and bid them tune when we speak of ennobling or exalting the once more the melodious harps to which in human mind, it is but in other words to early life our souls have thrilled; let us enter speak of increasing its capability of enjoying again into the field of nature, not only with that which is supremely excellent. Our na- eyes to examine, but with hearts to feel; let tural desire of enjoyment, is the principle us woo back imagination to come and bear upon which we teach all moral truths. We us up on her elastic wings, above the gioss speak of particular things as conducive to elements of mere corporeal life-not to septhe happiness of ourselves or others, and arate us by the idle vapours of distempered even the infant mind is convinced that they fancy from the duties of rational and immor_ _ _ _ _ _ __._ _ _ _ J 184 THE POETRY OF LIFE. tal beings but to sweeten those duties with a but with gratitude and humble reverence more ethereal essence, and to dignify them towards the Giver of every good and perfect with a character more sublime. Above all, gift, as a rich and gracious blessing, whose let us accept the additional source of enjoy- high purpose is to promote the intellectual ment which poetry affords, not with the ex- happiness of man, and the glory of his Creacitement of a transient indulgence, as an idle tor. toy for peasanl pastime in our vacant hours. THE END. PICTURES or PRIVATE LIFE., BY MRS. ELLIS AUltHOR OF "WIVES OF ENGLAND," ETC. "Would you judge of the lawfulness or unlawfulness of pleasure, take this rule: whatever weakens your reason, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your sense of God, or takes off the relish of spiritual things;-in short, whatever increases the strength and authority of your oody over your mind, that thing is sin to you, however innocent it may be in itself." AUTHOR'S E1DITION COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUMEH. EDWARD WALKER 114 FULTON-STREET. -pop _ _ _ _ _ _ AN APOLOGY FOR FICTION. To write a book which is intended, and an amiable heart, without the assistance of calculated, solely for the readers of fiction, religion, or the control of good principle, and prefix to it an apology addressed to I am willing to allow that fiction has often the non-readers of fiction, appears some- been, and is well calculated to be, a most what paradoxical; yet as a member of a powerful engine of demoralization. religious society, whose sentiments are On the other hand, when a writer keeps openly and professedly at variance with steadily in view the development of moral works of this description, I would not truth, when his characters are all of our willingly oppose the peculiarities of many " mixed essence," drawn from the scenes whom I regard with gratitude, esteem, and of every-day life, animated with our feeladmiration, without offering in my own ings, weak with our frailties, led into our vindication some remarks upon the nature difficulties, surrounded by our temptations, of fiction in general. and altogether involved in. a succession of Fiction may, or may not be, subservient the same causes and effects which influence to the purposes of moral instruction. The our lives, his productions may be called following are some of the abuses to which fictitious, but they cannot be false. To me it is most liable:-the delineation of unnatu- they appear at least as lawful as those of ral characters, by the combination of such the painter, and for this reason I have venqualities as never did, and never could exist tured to call my stories, Pictures of Private in one human being; and the placing such Life. creatures of imagination in scenes and cir- Suppose, for instance, an artist wished cumstances where the common sympathies to exhibit to the public a personification of of our nature find no place; and where the old age. Perhaps he would paint an old mind of the reader, in order to follow them woman in her cottage. But this would with interest, must be elevated to the high- not be all. In order to present the idea est pitch of absurdity, and the feelings more complete, he must place before our strained beyond their proper and healthy eyes the interior of her habitation, her antone; and when I add to this, the shame- cient furniture, the old fashioned chair on less prostitution of talent, with which some which she is resting, her crutch at her side, writers have confounded the nature of good her knitting, or her spinning wheel, her and evil, making vice interesting, and vir- kettle and her cat. Now though such an tue insipid, by investing one with the fan- old woman, with her furniture, such a tastic drapery of romance, and stripping chair, spinning wheel, crutch, kettle, and the other of all that can please the eye or cat, never did exist, yet the picture may be charm the senses, by describing the most true; because the idea of old age could astonishing instances of integrity, gener- not well be conveyed without the repreosity, and self-denial, as arising solely from sentation of the scene being thus filled up; iv AN APOLOGY FOR FICTION. and in proportion as the subject is more would be closed against a sermon. Nor complex, the collateral circumstances will is it without authority in the writings of be more studied, and frequently more nu- sincere and zealous christians. The wide merous. range of allegory affords innumerable subIn the same way the fictitious writer la- jects for instruction and delightj and many bours, and for the same end; with this ad- a weary wanderer through the valley of vantage, that the supposed lapse of time, the shadow of death, has been cheered by affords him an opportunity oftracing causes the remembrance of Bunyan's pilgrim. to their effects. If, for instance, his subject But the Scriptures themselves afford the be virtue, that virtue must be tried; and highest evidence that this style of writing therefore he brings in a variety of circum- may be made serviceable, as a means of restances all subservient to one purpose. proof and conviction. Let us confine our atVirtue must be contrasted with vice; and tention to one example. Where can we find therefore other characters are introduced, anything comparable to the affecting story and made to speak, and act, in a manner of the ewe lamb? Had the prophet Nathe most opposed to the words and actions than addressed the king of Israel at once of virtue. Virtue when allied to clay, as a violator of the laws of virtue, honour, must not be complete, and without flaw, and generosity, he would probably have because that would be unnatural, and con- found him so effectually defended by the vey an idea of a superhuman being; virtue pride of human nature, as well as by the must therefore sometimes fall away from dignity of his office, that he would have its high purpose, in order that it may learn failed to reach his heart; but by the simple humility, and look more earnestly for the story of the ewe lamb, he touched at once guiding hand of Providence; and, lastly, upon that chord of feeling, which seemed virtue must have its reward. In this man- ever ready to vibrate with sweetest melody, ner the writer is involved in a great variety in the soul of the Royal Psalmist; and of imagery, and may sometimes have the then followed that emphatic application management of characters, which, if sep-" thou art the man 1" arately and independently considered, It is in this manner, by the contemplawould not be worth his while to delineate. tion of ideal characters that we are someVarious means may be employed to pro- times led on towards conviction; our feelduce the same end. As individuals we ings become softened in sympathy with must all labour according to our calling. theirs, we unconsciously pronounce our Some preach virtue, some only practise it, own condemnation, and conscience makes some make a picture of it, and some a the application. poem, and some (perhaps the lowest in the Although willing to allow that fictitious scale of moral teachers) adorn it with the writing is the most humble means of moral garb of fiction, that it may ensure a wel- instruction, I am still earnest in endeavourcome, where it would not otherwise ob- ing to maintain its utility, especially on the tain an entrance. ground that it finds its way to the dense To meet with an attentive and willing multitude who close their eyes upon tihe listener is no less difficult than to find an introduction of purer light. able teacher. Fiction may be compared Happy, happy is it for those whose -to a key, which opens many minds that hearts are open to receive "Christ as their AN APOLOGY FOR FICTION. v Schoolmaster," who have learned to desire minds so unenlightened, and whose feelthe " sincere milk-of the word." In their ings so absorbed by the trifling affairs of select and privileged communities, the a busy world, that they can hardly be said bible spreads before them a wide field of to have learned to think. It is from never ending wonder and delight, and re- amongst these that I have ventured to lift ligion is a hallowed word, uniting all their up my voice; it is for these that I have sympathies into one bond of peace and love. thought, and felt, and written. In vain Let us look into the next stage of ad- might instruction be laid before them in a vancement towards moral excellence, and weightier form. Their pursuit is pleasure, here we see religion obscured by the mists their food excitement. And since books of party prejudice, still worshipped, but of fiction are a kind which thousands will frequently disguised, and misunderstood. continue to write, and tens of thousands to A little lower and religion holds a disputed read, I have endeavoured to do my little sway, contending with the spirit of the part towards blending with amusement world, for a small portion of the heart. some of those serious reflections, which in Lower still, and her power and her excel- the often shifting scenes of a restless life, lence are called in question; but before have occupied my own mind; not without we arrive at that class by which her image earnest longings, that I myself were is dethroned, and her institutions violated, amongst those who are already prepared let us regard that immense mass of beings to receive truth without fiction, light withwhose perceptions are so imperfect, whose out clouds, good without alloy. CONTENTS. Page THE HALL AND THE.O0TTAGE........ 7 ELLEN EKSDALE...............68 THE CURATE'S WIDOW....... 83 MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE................ 104 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE, "A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine; To pluck the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine!" ROKEBY. CHAPTER 1. unsettled station; for if possessed of any ambition, they will be perpetually struggling "MY mother was a lady," said Anna Clare, to establish their claim to the rank of one a beautiful girl of eighteen, to her meek and parent, and looking down with contempt quiet looking friend, Mary Newton, who sat upon the other; and here Anna, allow me at the door of her father's cottage, busily to speak a little of my mind respecting youremployed in preparing her little brothers self, for I have often thought it would be and sisters for the coming sabbath. "My better for you, if you would recollect that mother was a lady, and though she had the you are not entirely your mother's child, but misfortune to marry into a lower sphere, she that you bear the name, and live under the never forgot her own superiority." protection of a plain and homely man, who "' Perhaps it would have been better for has always been to you a kind and indulgent her if she had," replied Mary. father. But I fear my advice is not agree"So far from forgetting it," continued her able to you." friend, "she strove continually to impress "Excuse me," replied Anna, endeavourupon my mind, the importance of imbibing, ing to look polite, because she really felt and retaining, her own notions of that dis- angry; "excuse me, Mary, if I say it is tinction of birth and education which she not quite agreeable; not because I cannot valued so highly; and, above all things, bear to hear the truth, but because you have warned me against forming any low con- not the kind of tact which is requisite to rennexion in marriage." der advice pleasing. " But did she make you understand exact- " And excuse me, Anna, if I say that I do ly whereabouts in society to place yourself? not believe any tact can render advice pleasfor that must clearly be made out, before you ing to those who do not mean to follow it. can know whether you look above or below After this, there was a long pause between you; and in my opinion it is one of the the two friends, during which, Anna tried to worst evils arising from alliances such as forget what had passed,while Marystruggled your mother's, and one which those who to subdue her personal feelings, so that she enter into them must have bitterly to lament, might speak calmly and seriously, what she that their offspring occupy a doubtful and was determined her friend should hear. 8 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. "Anna," said she, "we have been long house, built of red brick, with a green door friends-friends in infancy —friends at school. at the termination of a gravel walk to which Shall we not continue friends, now that we you passed through a little gate, green also, are about to enter upon the cares of women, and flanked on either side by green paling and may need each others help 3 But mind On entering the door, you saw on the right me, Anna, friend is a serious word, and ought hand a common sitting room, with a brick not to be lightly used. By being friends, I floor, and on the other, a neatly garnished do not mean that we are merely to walk out parlour, used only on Sundays, with a cartogether, and read together, and hear each pet and a sofa, and a chimney piece ornaother's love stories. No, I mean that we are mented with a pair of beautiful hand-screens, to stand by each other through life, through " wrought by no other hand, I ween," than evil report, and good report-to watch over that of Anna Clare. each other for good, and to speak boldly and If the habitation of the Newtons was inopenly, yet kindly and tenderly, all that we capable of being metamorphosed into a think of each other. This is my notion of a picture, Mary herself was equally incapable friend; and if you think I am so meek and of being transformed into a heroine. Neilow, that I dare not be all this to you, you ther her size, her figure, nor her face, was are very much mistaken, for I never will be calculated to distinguish her from the many. humble friend to any one, no, not to you, Her dress was neither picturesque'nor Anna, dearly as I love you." fashionable, and her hair, neither raven, nor Anna, who had advanced nearer to Mary flaxen, golden, nor auburn, but just such as while she was speaking, now, with tears in no poet or painter could make any use of, her eyes, besought her forgiveness; and they was braided over a forehead, neither high, parted for that night, with more true love nor marble pale. In short she was just the than they had felt for months before. sort of person of which we fancy the mulMary went in with the stockings she had titude is composed, when we look out upon darned, and commenced the operation of a crowd of people. While Anna's was a washing her little brothers and sisters before face, which the eye would discover and they went to bed, while Anna sauntered single out from amongst a thousand, and set home by moonlight, musing as she went; the imagination to work to ponder upon then trimmed a new bonnet for exhibition the whence it could have come, and whither it next day, and tried a new tune on her guitar might be going. From her mother she had before she retired to bed, where her dreams learned to place anunduevalueupon the symwere scarcely more visionary than those bils of wealth; but it seemed as though she which usually occupied her waking hours. had inherited, by nature, all that could adorn Neither of these young persons was of the and give outward excellence to the highest class properly called poor. Their fathers station. Slender, delicate, and graceful in were both small farmers, a description of her figure, she had exactly the kind of taste, people once numerous in Great Britain, now which enabled her to set that figure off tc very much decreased by the loss of those advantage; while her raven hair, because who have fallen into abject want, and those she knew not how to dress it fashionably, who are scramblingup the dangerous ladder was always dressed becomingly. Her comof luxurious extravagance. plexion was clear and glowing, and her dark The house in which Mary lived ought not, eyes had that peculiar light of joy, and inin the present day, to be called a cottage, nocence, which is seldom seen in those that because it could neither be etched, nor sketch- have looked long upon the world. ed into any thing, that would not be alto- These simple charms, however trifling in gether disgraceful to the pages of a lady's description, may yet be accounted dangerous album. It was a small, square-looking gifts; and such they have often proved to THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 9 the poor inhabitant of the cottage. But July, the inhabitants of the little village there is a gift of far more fatal consequence of L —, were astonished by a blaze of to the peace of woman's mind, when that beauty and fashion, at their parish church. mind has not been disciplined by a rational Mary had no time to make observations education. "A quest for hidden knowl- on the new comers, for with her constant edge," with a deep sense of the sublime and and fruitless attempts to restrain the wonder beautiful, which those who have never look- and admiration of her little flock, and her ed on nature's face with the eye of a poet, earnest and zealous endeavours to keep her or a painter, can in no way comprehend. own attention fixed upon the service, she And this was Anna's portion too. How found enough to do; but Anna, not being mournfully misplaced! For, beneath her quite so fully engaged, had leisure to set father's humble roof where she ought to down in her memory the whole family of the have been, and, no doubt, under other cir- Langleys, just come to spend the summner cumstances, would have been, a kind and months at their country seat. dutiful daughter, she was now dreaming First, the old gentleman, Sir Thomas, away her existence in a world of visions, of with his white hair and sleek countenance,.which the every-day duties of common life and his one idea perpetually recurring to the formed no part. moor game, about to be shot by his hopeful Anna had early imbibed a taste for the son. —Lady Langley, with her towering accomplishments which adorn the higher crest of plumes and ribbons; come down stations in society. Music and drawing had into the country to be great.-Miss Langley, been taught her by her mother; and being looking soft, delicate, and languid, but alas! naturally of an aspiring mind, she had pre- not very young; come down into the country vailed upon her father to allow her the ad- to brace up a feeble constitution for the envantage of instruction in oil painting, in the suing winter, and to lay up a store of good hope of rendering her genius more profitable. works, to be held in memorial in her favour, This was an important step in the ladder of by establishing Sunday schools, and soup distinction, in consequence of which all the societies. —Miss Julia Langley, a beauty of well disposed young women in the neigh- five winters, returning from an unsuccessful bourhood agreed to call her a genius, while campaign; come down into the country to all the young men toasted her as a beauty; sketch waterfalls, and babble of Corinne.the women wishing internally that she had And the heir apparent, young and handless of the one quality, the men that she had some, for what earthly purpose could he be less of the other. But Anna valued both. come? Her beauty was delightful to her as a paint- Anna had time for all these reflections er, no less than as a woman; and her genius and enquiries, and a thousand more, by no was the magical key, which opened to her means omitting the conclusion that Frederick mental vision the wide field of taste, and Langley was the most brilliant and moving sentiment, and feeling; a field so dangerous spectacle she had ever before witnessed in to enter upon, that those who have ventured the form of man. within its charmed precincts, have too often One look, and only one, she had ventured returned to the beaten track of life with to fix full upon his countenance, when immeweary, and unwilling steps, wishing in vain diately his glass was raised, and Anna felt, tc call back the happy thoughts of simplicity that for a long time she was the object of and youth, which made the paternal home a his fixed and steady attention; but for all haven of rest, and life itself an enjoyment. that, she did not completely turn away, nor Annals new bonnet had not been trimmed take any effectual measures to relieve herself in vain; for on the following morning, while from the embarrassment of her situation the sun shone upon a cloudless sabbath in though anger and shame heightened the 10 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. crimson that spread itself all over her beau- liarity of town-bred insolence, was not the tiful face. distinction at which she aimed; and rallying Before the service was over, Mary had her wandering thoughts, she assumed an air forgotten that any strangers were at church, of dignity, and endeavoured to resume her and Anna had forgotten every thing beside. task. Mary returned home with serious thoughts, The young gentleman finding he had misto perform the duties in her domestic circle; taken the subject of his attentions, and his and Anna went that afternoon with less than sisters being equally disappointed in theirs, her wonted alacrity, to take her part as the party withdrew, leaving the young peoteacher in a Sunday school, some years ago ple in wonder at their gauze and laces, the established by the good clergyman of the old at their folly and assurance. parish, and so steadily supported, as to need little patronage from Miss Langley. Miss Langley, however, could not withhold the blessing of her countenance. Miss Julia could find no better amusement for the CHAPTER II. Sunday afternoon; and Frederick thought there might be a chance of his meeting "I TOLD you," said Frederick Langley to again with the fair vision of the morning. his sister, the next morning, "I to. d you we The door of the school-room opened- should all be miserably disappointed in comAnna looked up, and from that moment, she ing to this abominable old Hall, for you see thought as little of the alphabet, the cate- we have neither field sports in the day, peachism, and even of the bible itself, as any of sants dancing on the green in the evening, her little pupils. nor ghosts ranging through the corridor at "Come here to me," said Miss Langley in night. How, in the name of ennui, do you a tone of authority, to one of the older girls, mean to exist?" who was just taxing her attention to answer " Heaven only knows how Pa, and Ma, in her turn, the question of the teacher. and Susan will exist," replied Julia; "but "Come here to me, and tell me, if you can, for my part, I am going out to sketch, when what took place at the building of the Tower the dew is off the grass; and then you know, of Babel?" Lord B — comes down to shoot in August,'" Confusion of tongues," thought the teach- and your horses come on Saturday, and I er, " and I wish it may not be come to us." am sure you will let me ride Phillis again." "What a charming study!" exclaimed " Lord B — is a great bore," replied her Julia, singling out a little curly-pated urchin, brother; "C and it always rains on the moors, who laughed and blushed, and wondered and my horses don't come till Monday, and what she meant. you shall not ride Phillis, because you al" Take that, you little — " said Frede- ways spoil her paces. But come, the dew is ick, throwing a sixpence on the floor, "and off the grass, and I have so much that is buy yourself a stick, instead of breakiug amiable in my temper just now, that I can mine." Then, turning to Anna, " A charm- afford to go out with you to sketch, and cut ing amusement," continued he, seating him- your pencils into the bargain, provided only, self upon the bench beside her, "I wish I you will go my way." might be a pupil." But the method he The fact was, the young gentleman had had chosen for commencing an acquaint- determined, if possible, to see Anna Clare ance was not suited to the taste of his com- again. Had his first advances been received panion. It savoured too much of the Hall with the simper of a rustic coquette, it is and the Cottage. To be singled out as a probable that all interest about her would village beauty, and addressed with the fami- have ceased then, and there; but the look of THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 11 wounded pride, and delicate reserve, with ling amongst the leaves around the window, which she withdrew from his familiarity, looked up with no less astonishment than she combined with her beauty, to make a more had excited. lasting impression on his mind, Had there even been time to recur to the "a This is the cottage," said he, leading his affront of the preceding day, it would all sister up to the door of William Clare, for have been atoned for, by the kind and polite he had made out the night before, not only manner in which Frederick apologised for Anna's residence, but much of her character, the intrusion. and the nature of her occupation. He said they were strangers in search of " But where are you leading me?" asked the picturesque; who had come to solicit the Julia. " I know nothing of these people, assistance of Miss Clare, to point out the what can you possibly be going to do in this beauties of the surrounding scenery, hoping sweet cottage?" that her taste would enable them to select "Leave that to me," said her brother, some subject for a sketch, not altogether beleading her away from the beautiful scene yond the compass of moderate powers. on which she would gladly have staid to " I am quite a learner," added Julia, " and gaze; for the cottage of William Clarethad if you can assist me, I shall be for ever inlong been the envy of the surrounding neigh- debted to you." borhood. Though precisely on the same By this time Anna had ushered them into footing as the Newtons, with regard to pro- her little sitting room; and taking up a large perty and rank in life, his house and garden portfolio with just confidence enough to show had acquired, during the reign of Mrs. Clare, her extreme devotion to the art, spread bean air of taste and gentility, which his daugh- fore them her own beautiful and highly finter was equally desirous to support. Per- ished drawings, of such simple and rural haps the chief difference in the two habita- scenes, as the country around afforded; at tions was, that the windows of one had been the same time apologising for their want of made to open out upon a green lawn; while interest, by saying that she had never been those of the other terminated a little more far from her native country, or seen any of than half the length in a broad seat, on which the great and magnificent features of nature. Mary used to sit and read to her father, when For a few moments the woman gave place the children were asleep and all was quiet to the artist, and she went on with enthusiwithin and without. Each had their parlour asm, " I sometimes think, that if heaven has of high and low degree, but the Clares trod a blessing in store for me, it must be, that I always on a carpet, and Anna had her paint- shall gaze on the blue sky of Italy!" But ings, her guitar, her album, and her books, the eyes of Frederick Langley, fixed upon placed with studied negligence about the her earnest countenance, brought back every room, so as to give it a totally different char- latent spark of womanly feeling, and not acter from even the best parlour of the even the rapturous expressions of his sister, Newtons. as she turned over the drawings, could again Anna was at this moment practising an wean her from the consciousness that she air which had lately caught her fancy, and was a genius, and a beauty, in the act of enaccompanying it with a low and simple tertaining high born and fashionable guests. voice, which, though altogether untutored in " And you paint too," exclaimed Julia, scientific rules, was sufficiently attractive looking up at a picture in which the artist from its natural sweetness, to arrest the at- had given to the subject of one of the drawtention of the curious intruders; who, having ings the vivid colouring of a masterly hand, advanced to the open window, stood in de- and a warm imagination. lighted astonishment gazing upon the lovely "That painting is not mine," said Anna; songstress; while Anna, startled by a rust- " yet I do paint a little, though I have prac 12 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. tised for so short a time, that I am ashamed " How provoking you are, Mary, I am sure to exhibit my productions; but if you will you understand me." pardon my presumption, and do not mind Better perhaps, than you understand yourthe litter of my room, perhaps I shall be able self, thought her friend. to amuse you for a few minutes, by allowing "Well, Anna, I will try to understand, you to laugh at my barbarous attempts;" then, that Miss Julia Langley is the sweetest and saying this, she led the way to a small girl I ever saw-and her brother?" room lighted from abo;e, where all " applian- "I am not quite so decided about him,' ces and means" which her humble circum- said Anna, with some confusion; " but they stances afforded, were spread around. are so fond of painting, of music, of poetry, Amongst the confusion of unfinished pic- and of every thing that is delightful." tures, all denoting industry and talent, was a " Then I am sure they must be fond of portrait of herself, which immediately caught you," thought Mary, as her eye dwelt upon the wandering eye of Frederick. the countenance of her friend, who leaned "Oh! that," said Anna, blushing, " I know over the garden gate with her bonnet thrown not what to say for that, or how to apologise back from her naturally sweet face, now for having spent my time upon so worthless more than usually animated. The compaa subject; except that it is always recom- ny, the excitement, and the exercise of the mended to young artists to practise upon morning, had given to her complexion a themselves, and in this instance, at least, I more vivid glow; and while the light breeze may escape the charge of vanity, for in look- played idly with the "tendrils of her raven ing at that portrait I always find an antidote." hair," the whole picture presented to the eye "If the picture offends your eye, I will of the beholder, a perfect personification of take it home with me," said Frederick, lay- health, and innocence, and joy. ing violent hands upon the treasure; and a Mary gazed for a moment with delighted scene ensued of laughing, blushing, plead- admiration, for in her heart there was no ing, and palliating, which is not necessary taint of selfishness, or envy; but a cloud to describe; while Julia, who, to say the suddenly gathered upon her brow, for she worst of her, was only idle and superficial, thought of the dangerous gifts which heaven neither envious nor spiteful, looked round had bestowed upon this poor motherless with amazement at the perseverance of her creature; and her heart yearned towards new acquaintance, and began to speculate her, with the tenderness of a sister, that she upon the amusement and benefit of cultivat- might watch over her, and be the means of ing her friendship, for a few weeks, during assisting her to turn all these brilliant entheir stay in the country. dowments to a good account. A sketching excursion was soon proposed, " Why do you look so grave," asked Anna, and Anna did the honours of the country " now when I feel so happy?" for to her the with so much vivacity, and good nature, that trees were more rich in foliage, the fields Frederick and his sister returned home, de- more verdant, and the skies more heavenly lighted with their new-made friend. blue, than she had ever seen them before. "' They have been with me all the morn- But Mary could not well explain herself. It ing," said Anna, as she passed the garden was too soon to warn her of her danger, and of James Newton on her way home, and saw to croak over those evils which we do but Mary at the door. faintly apprehend, has seldom a good effect "Who have been with you?" upon the young and ardent mind. They"Miss Julia Langley and her brother-the parted therefore without any further explasweetest girl you ever saw." nation, and it was many days before they " What-her brother?" met again. THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 13 These days passed away with Mary, leav- amply remunerate the party for any expense ing nothing behind but the satisfaction of or trouble they might incur on her account, having gone through her usual routine of she joyfully fell in with the proposal, and homely duties; while to Anna they were with a light and bounding heart, ran over fraught with circumstances of deep interest- the fields to tell Mary Newton the good high hopes, and brilliant dreams of coming tidings. pleasure; what they left behind she did not She had gone through the whole plan, stay to inquire, for hers was not the heart to and was expatiating upon some of its branchlook back. es, before the unusual gravity'of Mary's A tour was planned to the Highlands of countenance. arrested her attention, and, Scotland; and Julia Langley, always de- with a somewhat altered manner, she oblighted with new faces, and having formed a served, most romantic and ardent friendship for the "You are always so serious now, Mary, beautiful young cottager, insisted that she when I come to tell you any thing." should accompany them; and not all the in- " And that, I suppose, is the reason why dignation of her mother, nor the remonstran- you come so seldom." ces of her sister. could change her purpose. "Was I not here last Friday — no, it was "You are not going yourselves," said this Monday-no, I cannot tell when it was." amiable patroness of genius, " and therefore " It was the Sunday evening before last." it can be of no consequence to you." " Surely not so long ago as that. Well, I "But Lord B —, Lady C —, and Miss have been too much engaged with sketching Manning," said her sister-" they have never and other things, to know how the time passbeen accustomed to associate with low per- es away." sons; you will make yourself the jest of the "You have been in a sort of dream, I think, whole world by these absurd fancies." Anna, from which I hope the time has come "And disgrace your family," said her for you to rouse yourself." mother. "You mean with regard to the Langleys. "The party is of my forming," continued It is no dream, Mary, for I love them all; the immoveable young lady. "Lord B- except the old people, and that proud and always does as I like; Lady C- agrees with sanctimonious daughter of theirs." her brqther; and poor Miss Manning has "Then excepting the young gentleman, not the spirit to complain; besides, have I which you are bound to do in common delinot an undoubted right to take an artist in cacy, there remains one of the ancient and my train, if I think proper?" honourable name of Langley, whom you And thus, with a great deal of dispute, and love —Miss Julia." many uncharitable remarks upon the uncon- "Yes, I do love her, and will love her, scious object of this discussion, which might and will go into Scotland with her too, and not otherwise have been called forth, the af- return to you, Mary, the happiest creature ih fair was at last decided to Julia's satisfaction; existence; my brain and my portfolio filled for she was the youngest in the family, and with images of lakes, and rivers, and mounthough not very young, could still coax and tain scenery." wheedle, and insist with so much pertinacity, "May I, as a friend, ask you one plain as not unfrequently to carry her point against question?;" them all. "Yes. a thousand." It cannot be supposed that Anna's strength "Will you travel at your own expense? of mind was proof against this temptation. Anna's face was covered with confusion, Pluming herself upon the professions of her and she replied with difficulty, amiable young friend, and encouraging the "I cannot say exactly that I shall, but I vain hope that her service as an artist would hope to make some return." 14 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. "' Anna, my friend, my own dear friend, though exactly such as I delight to listen to, you are deceiving yourself. What return and sweeter, far sweeter to me than the song can you possibly make to this high family of birds, or any thing that I can remember for the honour which they intend to confer since my poor mother used to sing these upon you? It is the part of an independent children to sleep; what would it be to their mind to refuse, not with insult, but with ears, when compared even with the meanest gratitude, all offers of unnecessary kindness performance of an Italian opera girl? Oh, for which there is no probability of mak- Anna, if you wish to be loved, if you wish ing any adequate return; more especially to be valued, you will stay with us!" to the great, because the chance of being "I will return to you, dear Mary, and we able to do any service to them is so much shall only be absent a few weeks." smaller. Indeed, there is nothing but the " And in those few weeks what may you closest, and most intimate friendship, that not endure? you, who have never been accan justify the giving, and receiving obliga- customed to insult or neglect." tions, without any calculation as to the re- "If I did not expect to be treated in all lative situation of the parties. Here, and respects as an equal," said Anna, her indighere only, I would give and receive, without nation rising, " the finest scenery in the a debtor and creditor account." world should not tempt me to go beyond my Anna said something about Miss Julia's native village." friendship for herself but Mary interrupted ".Then deceive yourself no longer; for this her with warmth- never can be, it is not in the nature of things "And have you, Anna Clare, lived to give that it should be. I have not spoken to you the name of friendship to that which springs much of late, but I have watched you with up between two young persons who have the anxiety of a sister, and, though no sister only strolled together for a few sunny hours could love you better than I do, trust me, I am by the side of woods and waterfalls? No, not blind to your follies. No, Anna, I have if you will turn away from the truth, you seen the change in your dress and manner. compel me forcibly, rudely, but I hope not I have seen what you endeavoured to conunkindly, to place it before your eyes. Miss ceal from yourself. It was but last SunJulia Langley is a sweet tempered, flippant, day, after service, that I observed you stop light-hearted creature, at least so she ap- to speak to old Eleanor in the church-yard, pears to us; who is interested by your ta- while all the time your eye was fixed upon lents, and charmed by your beauty, but the door at which you thought the Langmore especially delighted with your willing- leys would come out; and when you found ness to oblige and serve her; yet, in her wide they had gone the other way, you listened world of fashion and of folly, you can act no more, and thought no more of old Eleabut a very trifling part, and will consequently nor or her rheumatism, but skipped over the be very lightly esteemed. For what have stile, and flew round by the lane, where you you to boast of, that she cannot find and were sure to see them; but finding yourself possess, in far greater perfection, elsewhere, too far in advance, you stooped down to tie except, perhaps, your beanty? and when, I your sandal, though I am sure:t did not would ask, was beauty a bond of union be- need it; and then Lady Langley swept past twixt two women? Here, in this remote you with such a look of scorn, as I would village you are a wonder, and a genius. not have brought upon myself for the richYour paintings delight and astonish us; but est jewel in her possession. these people have been abroad, andhave seen "And now, Anna, may I ask you to bethe works of great masters, and even their lieve, that the pain I have given by my plain own money can procure them such as you speaking, has not been from envy, or for would hardly dare to copy. Your music, sport; but merely, that you might see your THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 15 conduct in its true light; for these things are scenery, which dazzles and bewilders the beneath you, and I know you despise them mental vision of those who are just entering as much as I do; but the notice of these peo- the theatre of life. ple has turned your head. Let me entreat How well soever Anna Clare might have you to feel above them, as you really are: been fortified and supported before she went above them in all that is really excellent, to rest, by the sage admonitions of her friend, though far below them in all which they es- her noble resolutions vanished on the followteem so." ing morning, like mist before the summer When Mary had finished speaking, her sun; for the carriage of Sir Thomas Langfriend remained silent for a long time, and ley rolled up to the door, and a troop of though they walked together through the young ladies, and fine gentlemen, rushed in fields to the cottage of William Clare, their to alarm, as they were pleased to say, " the conversation was on indifferent topics, for beautiful enchantress in her fairy bower."' Mary wisely judged it would be safest to Could the beautiful enchantress have leave Anna to the influence of her own re- known how little they had really thought of flections. alarming, or pleasing, or doing any thing else, but kill time; —could she have known what weary, dissatisfied, and listless feelings they really brought with them to the fairy bower, she might have been better able to CHAPTER Ill. appreciate their many flattering expressions; which to them meant nothing, and cost WE may read, and think, and converse, nothing, but which were set down by Anna about humble merit, and high-born insignifi- to refer to on some future day, when her cance, folly or depravity, until we actually vanity should tax her memory to contribute believe we have attained to the true discern- to its maintenance. ment of good and evil, and are ready, under Alas, that such a day should ever come! all circumstances, to choose the one, and to That flowers which were culled in the sumrefuse the other; yet so forcible are the im- mer of youth and happiness, and thrown by pressions received through the medium of with a prodigal hand, should come to be the senses, that we are often led to wonder singled out, one by one, in search of exhaustat the fallacy of our own conclusions. There ed sweetness, to revive the drooping spirit is something, for instance, so imposing in the that has laid up no more substantial treasure first entrance of a well-bred person at your for its hour of need. door; compared with that of the plain man Surely there is nothing upon earth that of homely merit, who stumbles over your demands our pity more than this. Not the staircase, sets down his hat upon your draw- foolish bird fluttering in the snares of the ings, and clenches your hand inr a grasp of fowler; nor the flower that has burst into Herculean strength. There is a great deal, blushing beauty, on a morning of storms; nor the child that has stolen to the brink -of too, in the soft tones of the well-modulated nor the child that has stolen to the brink voice, with which well-bred persons address the precipice to play, can be more melanyou: their kind looks when they choose to choly objects of consideration, than an amiwear them; the rustling of their costly silks; able and lovely woman, who is drawing their perfumery and cambric handkerchiefs; from the fountains of vanity and love, her but above all, the ivory fingers with which only sources of happiness and hope. And they touch and seem to hallow whatever is yet who speaks of her danger? Those who worthy of their attention. These, and a stand aloof in unassailed security, and have thousand other trifles, too insignificant to never known the insatiable thirst of pamperthousfind a name c trombines, to form parts ofican that ed vanity, nor fallen into the snare of earthly find a name, combine to form parts of that 16 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. love. Should the deluded creature awake piece of white tape to secure the fastening to a sense of' her own awful situation, who of a green plaid bag, and that when Lord rushes to the rescue? She looks back upon B —'s footman touched his hat, and ofher sister woman, and the strong arm of ma- fered his services to see every thing adjusted, levolence and envy is put forth to urge her (though at the same time a whisper passed to destruction; to accelerate her fall. She through the menial train, that they had had leans upon her brother man, and he, more trouble enough with their own things, and treacherous, but not less cruel, while he that now their was no room left,) William covers her with the garment of praise, and Clare described in circumstantial detail, how pours upon her head the oil of joy, at the there was a hair trunk with a wrapper, a same time places on her brow the poisoned bag, a shawl, and a cloth cloak, besides a chaplet, crying, "Peace, peace, where there basket of prog, which Phebe held in her is no peace." Like the priests of old, who firm grasp, determined to place it herself in with merriment and dance, and song, led the hand of her young mistress, while the forth the unconscious victim wreathed with cloak, she insisted, must go inside too, for flowers, to bleed upon the altar of sacrifice. the evenings were cold, and the dear child Lady B —, Lady C-, and Miss Manning, had nothing on. were amongst those who rushed into Anna's Could any thing, to Anna's feelings, exparlour. They were of the party for the ceed the confusion of this moment, during Highlands; all things were in readiness, and which the serene party sat in smiling wonder on Monday morning they were to set out. at the scene? When Monday, the eventful day, arrived, Her father, forgetful of every thing but Anna took a hasty farewell of the Newtons: the departure of his child, had slipped on and now she stood at the gate leading up to an old slouched hat, that was wont to hang her father's door, and the old man stood be- in the remotest corner of the passage; and side her, ever and anon, wiping from his eyes Phebe! surely she was possessed with the tears, that were not altogether shed for sor- demon of provocation, for she kept the little row, for he was proud of the distinction basket until she could herself place it upon which had been shewn his daughter; but it Anna's lap, and thrust in the old grey cloak, was a long journey, and the dear child had spreading it over the costly silk dress of never been far from the paternal roof before. Lady C —, which had never been brought And Phebe, the old servant, was there too, into contact with so rude a material before. busily employed in providing every thing for In fact, that moment was fraught with a the comfort of her darling; weeping and combination of annoyances, which no words wiping her eyes with her apron, without try- can describe; but which some have felt so ing to conceal her tears. forcibly, as to acknowledge that the poor Now, though it is a pleasant and easy and mean pay dearly in this small coin, for thing for the writers of romance to make aspiring to participate in the pleasures of the their heroines glide and skim over the earth, rich and great. without any of the common appendages of Mary watched them round the brow of matter, it cannot be denied of Anna Clare, the hill, and as soon as they had vanished (though grevious to relate,) that while from her sight, she covered her face with her standing at her father's gate, she was literal- hands, and burst into tears. ly surrounded by those various and vulgar " What are you weeping for?" asked litarticles, classed under the undignified name tle Martha, looking up in her sister's face. of luggage; that, %when the carriage of the You need not be in trouble about Anna wealthy baronet drove up, Phebe was in the Clare, for I never saw her look half so hapvery act of drawing from her housewife a py in my life." THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 17 "I hope she is happy," said Mary. however, before the discovery of certain "Then why do you weep? Will she not glances of admiration directed to a part of come back?" the carriage where she was not sitting, led "She may come back, my love,-but not her to ask herself, whether it would not tc me," was Mary's inward response. have been quite as prudent to leave Anna Perhaps there are no few words by which Clare at home. we more -frequently deceive ourselves than Lord B thought otherwise, and judgthese, "I will come back to you," or, "you ing from her situation in life, that she could will return to me." The birds of spring, the not be very fastidious in the choice of an flowers of summer, and the rich tints of au- admirer, or the style of his address, annoyed tumn, may all come back. The playmates her by the most pointed and familiar attenof our infancy, and the friends of our early tions; until, repeatedly repulsed by her coldyears, may all return. But will they return ness, he determined to punish her by negunchanged, or shall we be able to meet them lect. with the same glow of feeling unalloyed. Lady C —, neither young nor enthusiMany, who have looked with wonder and astic, had not travelled many days, before delight on the splendour of the setting sun, she had to lament bitterly over the inconhave turned away with sickness of soul from veniences of the journey; and Miss Manning the glory of his rising beams. Many who deep in the lore of Scotch novels, was dishave bid adieu to summer, have drank from appointed and disgusted, because every old the well-spring of her loveliness, rich woman was not a Meg Merilies, and every draughts of happiness and love, have met young one a Flora Mac Ivor. Books of her again, without recognizing her fair form; poetry and romance where referred to on without one ecstatic bound upon her flowery every occasion, and closed with the natural carpet, —one moment of joyous exultation in but mortifying conclusion, that the Scottish the.oftness of her sunny breeze! And thus nation must be miserably degenerated. it must be for thus it has been ordained, by Anna Clare was the only one of the a wise and merciful father, to teach his err- whole party who was well grounded in the ing children, that all the treasures by which real history of the " land of the mountain and they are surrounded, are only lent them for the stream." a brief space of limited enjoyment, and that She had been accustomed to read in peace here they have no continuing city. and in private, and had stored up in a naturally good memory such facts, as now rendered her company a valuable acquisition, to those who were not previously disposed to make too high an estimate of her powers of' CHAPTER IV. pleasing. Finding herself of real service to her LIrnuT, and bounding were the hearts, friends, her confidence began to increase; which Miss Julia Langley had, gathered and with her confidence, her happiness, her round her; herself the centre of the magic vivacity and even her beauty too; until circle, if not the source from whence their Frederick Langley felt himself emboldened pleasure flowed, there needed no addition to to declare, what his heart alone had hitherto her enjoyment, except that Lord B — borne witness to,-his extreme admiration should declare himself more clearly, and of Anna Clare. But his was not flattery this desideratum, nothing could be more in the gross. It consisted in that silent likely to produce, than the present arrange- course of respectful attention, so irresistible to rlent of affairs. a delicate mind; shown chiefly by a desire They had not proceeded many stages, to be informed by her knowledge, decided 14 18 PICT'RES OF PRIVATE LIFE. by her judgment, and directe jy her taste; there are many harder duties which we perand if there was more of te Jerness in his form with more pleasure, so much are we lock and manner towards her than was accustomed to E(stimate our own worth by quite consistent with their relative situations, the opinion of others. it was only just so much as to encourage her Anna had no heart to look after these to ask of hism in preference to any one be- little comforts and conveniences, and thereside, those little services, which consti- fore felt the want of them the more; and tute tihe chief bond both of friendship and of trmetimes her thoughts would return to old love. Phebe, and then she wished she had taken Ifow often do we find persons, entering into leave of her more kindly. But her greatest the most intimate, and the most serious cor- mortification was to find, that the labours of nections in life, not so much from any similari- her pencil, so far from remunerating her ty of mind or sympathy of feeling, as from friend for her numerous and unlooked-for the manner in which they have been thrown favours, could never by any alteration of together, have become associated with, and place or plan, be made agreeable to the indebted to each other. Is not this, then, whole party. Sometimes they could not another reason amongst the many, why the possibly wait for her, and the drawing must poor ought to shun rather than seek, all fai- remain half done; while they wondered iliar association with the great; and why the that she put away so many unfinished pieces: great should cease to amuse themselves with then they dared to say it was very good, but those summer friendships with their poorer really they could not recognise the spot; for neighbours, which at best can only serve on this very reason, because they had not staid one hand, to wile away the monotony of a to observe it. few months' residence in the country; and on Oh! it is a wearisome, heartless, and lifethe other leave nothing behind but emptiness spending service, to live by the power of and disappointment? This, however, is but pleasing! The miner has his stated portion thebrightsideofthepicture. Lookagain, and doled out to him, and digs in undisturbed we see more conspicuously a long list of fatal security; and the galley-slave knows, while consequences; amongst which are written in he toils at the oar, that the utmost stretch legible characters, the base flattery of the of his sinews, is all that his tyrant master low, and the falsehood of the great; the en- can require; but the miserable child of vy of the poor, and too frequently their ru- genius, who feels that he must starve and ined innocence. shiver in the shade, or tax his talents, and Before the expiration of one entire week, sharpen his wit, and torture his sensibility, the spirits of the tourists had begun to flag; to purchase the genial smiles of patronage: and even Anna felt it difficult at all times to may not his life be compared to the lingering support her vivacity, upon which depended death of the dolphin, whose dying agonies the good will of the party. produce those beautiful varieties of colour, Though born to an humble lot, she was which astonish the delighted beholder? not of a robust constitution, nor had ever Annoyed, perplexed, and disappointed, been accustomed to any kind of hardship. Anna Clare began to think a little more of Miss Julia had her woman, and Lady C —-- Mary Newton than she had done at first; was almost inseparable from hers; but no and but for the kindness of Frederick Langone attended upon Anna to see that her bed ley would really have looked with fearftl was aired, or to carry her dry shoes. apprehension to the future. There are few things we are more ready It happened one day, while left alone to to profess our determination to do than this, sketch what her gay companions were soon -to " take care of ourselves, when nobody tired of looking at, that they vrwandered round cares for us; and yet, somehow or other, the foot of the hill and came again tin THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 19 awares, almost to tle very spot where she "Anna, dear Anna, what has happened was seated, and where her figure was to you?" said he. screened from them only by a projection of She raised her eyes-It was the first time a rock, and a few branches of fern, she had heard those words of kindness spoken She had heard their approaching voices with any thing like feeling, since she left without any thought of the subject of their her home; and she burst into tears. Nor conversation; when suddenly the sound of was it difficult, after this, to draw her into a her own name struck upon her ear. It was confession of the cause; but the insult, the Lord B —;-, who descanted on her merits contempt, the scorn, she did not at present in the following manner: feel equal to the task of describing " This friend of yours, Miss Julia, is a "I will leave them tomorrow!" was her wonderfully knowing person, I suppose she first exclamation that night, as soon as she is the village schoolmistress;" and then found herself alone: when suddenly a load, the ladies laughed immoderately, Miss Julia heavier, and colder than the chains of the as well as the rest; protesting his lordship criminal, fell upon her heart-the conviction was so droll;" after which the mixed sound that she had not the means. of their voices, as well as the confusion of'And therefore, I must eat their bread, Anna's mind, prevented her hearing what and follow and serve them, because I am was said for some minutes. She was happy, poor-too poor to resent an insult! Oh! why however to find that Frederick was not did I ever come!" And then she thought of with them, and at last had the additional Mary Newton, and of her own father,-the &atisfaction of hearing Julia take up her de- plain kind hearted old man, who looked upfence. on his daughter as a sort of privileged being, "Well,' said this noble patroness of who was never to be thwarted in any of her humble merit, evidently conceding some dis- wishes,-the kind-hearted old man, who had puted point, " that I leave to you; but I furnished her with all the money he could must convince you that she is really a good spare, part of which she had laid out in makcreature, and so delighted with a little notice, ing herself look as much like her friend Julia that in common charity one cannot with- as possible; part in procuring all things nehold it." cessary, and many things unnecessary, for Anna's pencil dropped from her fingers, her progress in her favorite art; and part, a and she had well nigh betrayed herself by a very small part, had been reserved for farther. groan of horror-. She heard no more, for the exigences. party retired laughing and talking on indif- Of all these things she thought again, and fereni subjects; leaving her apparently, again, and perhaps as often of Frederick as senseless as the stone on which she was Langley-strange medley of ideas and feelseated.. ings! among which however, she singled out How long her reverie might have lasted the last, as least painful, upon which to slumis uncertain, had she not been roused by the ber and dream. voice of Frederick Langley, which instantly Whether it was the superior information brought back the colour to her cheeks, and interesting qualities of Anna Clare, though not in time to prevent his discovering which drew upon her the envy of her comthat something had occurred to discompose panions, or whether she did, in reality overher; and his suspicions. were strongly con- step the undefinable bounds of propriety firmed by the trembling and agitated man- which confine the feet of an humble friend, it ner in which she stooped down to gather up might neither be wise nor charitable to say; the pencils and loose papers which had fall- but somehow or other, her sun went down' enat ier feet with Miss Julia and to the rest it had never l 20 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. risen; except to Lord B —-, who, having admired here they could admire together; acknowledged for a brief space its limited as- every thing to be enjoyed, their hearts could cendancy, now determined, if possible, to ex- rejoice in with unrestrained delight. Totinguish its fading light. gether they could climb the brow of th Anna perceived, yet could not understand mountain to watch the glories of the rising the change; but Frederick saw and under- sun, free alike to the prince and to the peasstood it all. ant. Together they might sail upon the "She shall never be made unhappy by glassy surface of the clear lake, that spreads your caprices," said he to his sister, one day its silver bosom as kindly to the fisherman's after a warm discussion on the subject, while humble prow, as to the light galley, streamthe unconscious object of it was left sketch- ing with the pennons of rank and power.ing on the bleak side of a hill, alone, and al- Happy mortals! together they could pour together unregarded by all in the party, ex- forth their young hearts at the shrine of nacept one. But there was one who never ture, and what future circumstance in life wholly deserted her, who would return to the would be able to separate them after this? spot where she was seated, with kindness Is nature, then, the goddess to whom we and consideration, to watch the progress of are directed to offer all our vows? Let us her pencil, to approve, and often to correct: stay one moment to consider what nature is. for his eye was as true to the beauties of na- In speaking of nature, we are too apt to ture, as his mind was quick to discern, and confine our ideas to the origin of all that is his heart warm to enjoy them. estimable in our hearts and affections; and Frederick Langley was not merely a man to look for the principle of evil, to something of pleasure; he possessed noble and gener- quite without ourselves, as if the good and evil ous feelings, the extent or existence of which of our mixed essence, belonged not equally to he hardly knew; for he had as yet never felt her realm. Surely the history of man might himself called upon to take any active part in teach us to mistrust our favorite idol; for was life, or to choose betwixt pleasure and duty. it not nature that strengthened the arm of Along with these good feelings, however, the first murderer? and is it not nature ia he inherited his mother's pride, and a high our own bosoms that responds to the voice of sense of family distinction; and then, with all the tempter? were blended the taste and the delicacy of a If, then, nature be the queen of the blue highly cultivated mind, by which its good heavens, when they are cloudless, is she not qualities were developed, and its bad ones equally so of the storm? If she slumbers in concealed; while a handsome person, and a bower of roses, does she not awake in deep manners unusually gentle and attractive, caverns when earthquakes and volcanoes rendered him as dangerous a companion as desolate the land? If she leads forth the could well be found, for the young enthusi- young affections, and gives to generous feelast. And then, they were associated togeth- ing its ecstatic glow-to love, its syren smile er in scenes, where the distinctions of polish- -and to pity, its pearly tear-are not the ed life were necessarily forgotten-where passions also of her training?-the fiery man had seldom been, at least, where it was passions, that rage and war, and make the impossible to drag along with him the inslg- heart a wilderness 1 Surely, then, there ma of his greatness-where nature ruled su- must be a holier compact, a covenant more preme over her own realm, of lake, and sacred, than that which is made at the shrine stream and mountain. Every ithinr tn hbe c nature. THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 21 CHAPTER N. twice it was upon her lips to ask Frederick Langly —No! she could ask any thing of' EXCITEMENT is not the natural food of the him but money; and money of any one, human mind. It may for a while, give life rather than him. And yet, he was the only to imagination, and quicken sensibility; but one of the whole party who had hllkerto like other stimulants, it is destructive both noticed her indisposition; which soon, howto the health of the body, and to the sound- ever, became sufficiently obvious to all; and ness of the mind; and like other stimulants: a consultation was held one night after she itleaves behind an aching void. had retired to bed, upon the best manner of Anna Clare lived, moved, and had her be- proceeding either with or without her. ing, in this deceitfhl element. Her beauty "We can never exist in this horrid place was the glow of animated feeling, and her until she pleases to recover," said Lord genius more resembled the vivid, and uncer- B, "that's a dead certainty. Why you tain sparkling of electric fluid, than the steady migllt expect better accommodation if you light of a fixed star. were travelling post to the. The hostess Disturbed with the suspicion now almost looks as if she were planning where to bury amounting to certainty, that the short-lived us; and that great Highland lass, her friendship of Miss Julia was exhausted, she daughter, sharpening knives to cut our suffered herself to dwell perpetually upon throats!" the kindness of her brother, as her only Julia, perplexed beyond measure, at last source of consolation; while inwardly har- thought of appealing to medical advice; assed and perplexed, by thoughts which it and a lad half asleep was dragged out of the was impossible to communicate, she rushed chimney corner, and mounted on a blind with redoubled ardour into new enjoyment, pony, to make what speed he could to the in the vain hope of extinguishing every nearest doctor, who lived at the distance of painful recollection of the past, and quieting seven miles. every apprehension for the future. In the mean time the party amused themThis state of feeling was not calculated to selves with such fare as their quarters aflast long; and a new evil, hitherto unthought forded, and all but Frederick fbrgot the cause of, began to steal rapidly upon the rest. of their anxiety. He was absent and Days of hurry and fatigue, and nights of thoughtful; aud neither the witticisms of sleepless anxiety, had followed each other Lord B -, nor the raillery of the ladies, in such rapid succession, that in spite of all could induce him to assume a gaiety which her efforts, first, to be well, and then to ap- it was impossible for him to feel, while fully pear so, she found her health and strength aware of the awful and critical situation of were rapidly declining. A violent cold, the Anna Clare. Not merely awful and critical consequence of keeping on wet clothes, was as regarded her life, but there were other probably the immediate cause; for now a considerations that weighed heavily upon total loss of appetite with frequent cold him, now tlhat she seemed likely to be so shiverings, and other fervish symptoms, gave lightly shaken off by his sister. alarming intimations of approaching illness. The doctor came and pronounced it imThey were travelling through a wild and possible for Anna to be removed without eninhospitable looking country; and ah! how dang ering her life. did Anna think of her own home, of all its "Julia,>" said Frederick, as he led his sister slighted comforts, but most of all, of Mary into an outer room, "you will not think of Newton. The thoughts of returning while leaving this poor creature alone?" she had yet the power, was perpetually upon "No, certainly not alone, but what would her mind. But then the means!-Once or you advise me to do?' 22 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. "If I was my kind hearted sister," said he, tread of bustling feet, and other signs of laying his hand upon hers, "I would stay preparation which she could not understand. with her myself."' Whenever she looked up, too, there was " Who, I?-you know that I am the worst an old woman seated at the foot of the bed, nurse in the world. Besides, it may turn out whose cold glassy eyes were fixed upon her some shocking fever, most probably infec- face, but the weariness of exhausted nature tlous; and then I might be dead and buried overcome her curiosity, and she slept again. in this horrid country, before any one in Once (she hardly knew whether it was a England knew." dream or a reality) a gentle voice asked if "I would not leave you, Julia," said her she were awake; the old woman's finger brother, still hoping he might prevail. was lifted up, and the reply was, " Then I "No no," said she, resigning his hand, it won't disturb her, but see that you take care is too much to ask of me; but I will speak of her;" and soon after the carriage wheels to Nevil; perhaps she might be induced to rolled away from the door, and Anna slept stay: and yet I hardly know what I shall do quietly till near mid-day, when she awoke without her." to the full possession of her senses, and the Nevil was spoken to and resolutely re- consciousness of her forlorn and deserted refused, adding, that she must really be com- situation. She was left, alone, at a little pelled to resign her situation, if such a thing village, in the north of Scotland, with neither were required of her. strength nor money to take her home. Ap"Then what on earth can I do?" exclaim- palling as was this conviction, the poor invaed Julia, returning to her friends, who unani- lid determined to rise, and endeavor to shake mously protested against remaining another off her weakness; and in order to rid herself day at such a place; and yet, when the cornm- of the unwelcome attentions of her stranger fort of the poor cottager was the subject of nurse, she descended, with feeble and totterconsideration, they looked round and pro- ing steps; to the little parlour below, which tested it was a vastly comfortable sort of inn the merry party had so lately deserted. for that part of Scotland, and just the thing Every thing here was cold and dreary: for those who wanted to be quiet; the land- the fire had not becen lighted, and a north lady, a very decent sort of woman, and the wind was blowing through the open window, Highland girl the best creature in the world; that looked out upon the side of a bleak until, encouraged by these assurances, Julia hill, round which wound the road, where at length determined upon doing what her the marks of the carriage wheels were still better feelings refused to sanction,-leaving visible. this young and helpless creature: alone, and All was now so still, that Anna could disill, in a strange land. But she would speak tinctly hear the cry of a fretful child, and the to the doctor herself; she would engage a chiding of an angry mother, from a house nurse, and do all things considerate and on the opposite side of the street, if street it kind, and then surely Frederick could not might be called; the bleating of some wild blame her. sheep amongst the heath; and the rustling Frederick did blame her, however, and of the wind through the branches of some severely too, though silently; for he said to old firs that grew beside the window, and himself, "if my sister has really the heart creaked, and moaned in the blast, as if to leave her, that heart is not worth appeal- complaining of their lonely and melancholy ing to." fate. Anna slept little that night; but in the Anna's feelings, peculiarly alive at this morning the fever abated, and she fell into time, to sights and sounds of wretchedness, a dreamy sort of slumber, not deep enough gathered around her a host of images too to prevent her hearing occasionally the painful for endurance, and she burst into g...... _-. THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 23 tears exclaimingr, in true bitterness of soul, rapidly stealing upon her. For a short time "Mary, my friend, my only friend, surely her spirits rallied, for the jpresence of there will need no lesson after this to teach Frederick was a great stimulus; but it needme that I am poor, and blind, and miser- ed both his support, and that of the nurse, to able!" enable her to regain her little comfortless The pressure of a gentle hand upon her chamber, where she was doomed to spend arm called back her wandering thoughts;- many wearisome days of sickness and sorcalled back the colour to her pale cheelks, row, varied only by intervals of stupor and and to her heart the warm glow of life and delirium, —days that were counted by hope; for it was Frederic Langley who Frederick with the anxiety, if not exactly stood beside her. with the affection of a brother. "I thought you were all gone," said the The fever at length abated; and Anna, poor girl, as soon as the hurry and confusion feeble as a child, once more looked out upon of her feelings allowed her to speak. "Why the hills, and the purple heath, now bright did you not leave me?" in the sunshine of a cloudless autumn day. "I answer in the words of your favourite The time was fast approaching for Julia poet,'Why, all have left thee:' and though and her party to be at Edinburgh on their he has wisely and justly given this simple way home. The time was fast approaching, and touching expression to the lips of woman, and yet Anna was so weak, it would have yet, trust me, there are men, who can be been madness to attempt the journey. No exfaithful, and kind, when women are heartless pence or trouble would have been spared by and cruel." Frederick which might enable him to attain "I do trust you," said Anna, with warmth. his object, and place his poor friend again "I was just saying, I had but one friend under the protection of his sister before they in the world; but you have been more to reached home; for, pleasant as it might be me than a friend." to linger amongst the hills, with this beauti"Say a brother, if you please Anna, and ful young creature, he felt that upon this then we shall be at ease with each other; but crisis depended her good name with his let us have a fire, and shut out this cold wind, family at least, if not with her own. Could and make our prison as comfortable as we they join their party in time, she might be can. You are not so very ill, I hope and trust, helped forward by easy stages, and her own but that we shall be able to meet our party appearance would sufficiently justify the at Edinburgh in the course of a few days." story of her illness; but if she remained He then explained how he had taken his alone with him, what story could he make horse early in the morning, and ridden out sufficiently plausible to satisfy the enquiries under pretence of calling upon a college ac- of the uncharitable, and the scruples of the quaintance who was then shooting in the envious? Highlands, leaving a message for his sister, At this juncture a letter arrived from Julia. that if he found his friend at home, he should Frederick was alone, and eagerly tore open probably not join them again before they the seal. It had been detained upon the reached the city, which he hoped they would road, and now told the sad tidings, that the do by the end of the following week. fair writer and her friends would leave EdinHow vain are the struggles of the most burgh on that very day, having waited for determined will against the encroachment of Frederick as long as their patience would disease! allow. Anna Clare would at this time have given "It is all over," said he, throwing the worlds, had she possessed them, to shake off open letter upon the table. "It is all over, and the weariness, the langour, and all other we must make the best of it." symptoms of approaching illness, that were It was past midnight when he awoke from 24 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. his reverse. He was sitting with his feet transgressions, I venture to subscribe myupon the bars of a little grate that contained self. the expiring embers of a turf fire. " No, no,' "Your Christian Friend, said he, starting from his seat, and snatching " SUSAN LANGLEY. up the candle, now burnt down into the socket. " Her protector I must be, but no "P.S. My sister does not know of my more; and for this reason I will see her as writing. She is extremely sorry on your little as possible." So saying he retired to account, and can with difficulty be persuadrest, with that solid satisfaction of heart, ed that you have been so very artful and which the applause of the world cannot give, depraved. Lord B.-alone has had the good nor the venom of its envious tongue destroy. sense to discover, and the sincerity to speak His time was now spent chiefly in shoot- the truth. ing, and Anna being unable to amuse her- " You will do well to burn this, and say self with her usual pursuits, felt hers hang nothing to my infatuated brother." heavily upon her hands. Poor Anna! she read the letter again, and again, turning it backwards and forwards, and looking alternately at the direction, and the contents, to assure herself of CHAPTER VI. the reality. Her senses had been stupified by long illness; and it seemed almost imIT was on one of these long and lonely possible for her to comprehend the whole days, that a letter was brought to the inva- truth. No tears came to her relief, A sinlid, sealed with the crest of the Langleys, gle kind word would have brought them in and directed by a female hand. Her own torrents. One exclamation at last burst from trembled as she opened it, and read as fol- her lips. " Oh! Mary, you warned me of inlows. suit and neglect, but you never warned me of any thing half so horrible as this!" "Miss Clare will probably be surprised When Frederick Langley returned that that I should have taken the trouble to ad- night, the invalid was still sitting in the dress a person in her situation; but regard little parlour, her cheeks flushed with burnto myself, and my family will no longer per- ing crimson, and her eye bright and wandermit me to be silent. From my, sister and ing. Shocked by the wildness of her looks, her friends I have learned all the particulars and her unconnected and hurried answers to of your strange conduct; and can only his simple questions, he asked the nurse if wonder that we have not been more sensible any thing particular had occurred during his of the deep and wicked artifice by which absence; and she told him that a letter had you endeavoured to seduce the affections of arrived about noon, and that since then she our beloved brother; —too prone, alas! to had not been able to persuade the young lady fall into the snares of Satan. With regard to take the least thing, nor even to move to the future, my object in writing, is to re- from her chair. quest or rather to insist, that you will never Frederick returned, and seating himself make any other claim upon our family, of beside Anna, took her feverish and burning any kind whatsoever, resting assured,'that hand, while, in a firnm and determined mansuch claims would be rejected with contempt, ner, he began to question her about what if not punished by the law. had passed. "Wishing you may experience a sin- "Circumstances," said he, "over which cere and heartfUlt repentance for all your we have no controul, have placed us in a THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 25 strange and difficult situation. To be your sides, he did not yet know the strong impresprotector has become my duty, as it would sion made upon his own affections; nor how at any time have been my pleasure; but in often, after his return to college, the fair order;hat I may serve you entirely, it is ne- image of Anna Clare would present tself; cessary, that with me you should have no first, animated, brilliant, and gay, as he hLad reserve. I therefore call upon you as a seen her at her father's house; then, feeble, fiiend, and one who is entitled to make such helpless, but still beautiful, as she now sat bea demand, to tell me what has distressed fore him, writing at intervals, as she could you." bear the fatigue of writing to her friend, Mary Anna made no reply; but the quivering Newton. And wonder not, gentle reader, of her pale lips gave sufficient evidence of that the short and incoherent letter which her internal struggle. At last she drew follows, should have cost the poor writer the forth the letter, and opening it with trembling greatest possible fatigue, both of body and fingers, placed it in Frederick's hand. Rage mind; so humbling are the consequences of and indignation gathered on his brow, while illness; —so incomprehensible the construchis eye glanced rapidly over its contents. tion of the human frame. His mind had been prepared for such an attack, and he had no need to read it twice; "DEAR MARY, but tearing the letter into a thousand pieces, " When I last wrote to you, I was happy. he thrust them through the bars of the grate, Happy in the contemplation of all that could and spoke not till every atom was consumed. delight me, —the clear skies, the mountains, "There," said he, "is an end to this speci- and the streams; and now, if I write of men of my sister's hypocrisy and malice, and mountains, it will be of the mountains of I wish we could say the same of all the mis- grief that are upon my heart; if of streams, chief it has done. But do not mind it, my it will be the streams that flow from my eyes. good girl; you have done nothing that is I have fallen into great trouble since my illwrong in the sight of heaven. Your heart ness. I am still very weak, and my hand is as pure as the snows of these mountains; trembles so, that you will not believe this to and they shall be compelled to acknowledge be my writing; but indeed Mary, it is the it." writing of your own friend-your friend, With the consciousness of her own inno- who is now humbled in the dust. Yet do cence, Anna tried to comfort herself, and in not mistake me, I am guiltless in the sight some measure she was comforted; but how of heaven; and only wish I could feel my to return was the question that perplexed innocence to be a greater consolation. Frethem both. It was strange, that in this cri- derick Langley has been to me-but I will tical juncture, the principle of evil, ever tell you when we meet, how kind, how deliready to furnish ways and means, did not cate, how generous his whole conduct has suggest to Frederick, that now, when Anna's been: and you, I know, will believe it; for reputation had received so severe a blow, it whatever my faults may have been, I never would be requiring comparatively but a was guilty of deceiving you. In the mean small sacrifice, to ask her to remain with him, time, I entreat you to think kindly of me, or to consent to seek with him, some more and to try to make my father and y)urs genial climate, where her health and happi- think so too; for indeed Mary it was illness, ness might be restored. To say that he did and not inclination, that kept me here. Pray not think of it, would be much to venture for me, dear Mary, for I am weak, both in upon any of his sex, in a similar situation; body and mind; and these cruel Langleys but Frederick Langley was an honourable will trample me into the grave." man, and spurned the idea of taking an unfair advantage, especially of a woman. Be- Before Anna's letter reached its destina 26 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. tion, rumour had been busy in her native of holiness, the more we linger after the village. That tle tourists had returned with- stray sheep, and lament that the gates of out her, and that Frederick too was left be- paradise should be closed upon thle lost hind, became the subject of general remark. one. Some said they had gone round by Gretna Mary went every day to the house of Green; and some that they had gone off to WTilliam Clare, to see that he fared comfortItaly. All wondered, and many took to ably, and that every thing was done to make themselves credit, for having predicted the his solitary evenings pass as pleasantly as consequences; though still ignorant what circumstances would allow; for the days these consequences were. were now fast shortening, and the old man Whether it was the insinuations thrown came in to his lonely fire, shivering with the out against his daughter, which at this time sharp winds of autumn. particularly affected William Clare, was dif- It was on one of these evenings when Mary ficult to know; fbr he was a man of few had staid with him later than usual, for they words: but all remarked that he was altered; had fallen into a long and earnest conversaand when Mary spoke of it to her father, he tion about Anna, that a carriage drove up to shook his head and looked grave, and said the door, and Anna herself rushed into her some mysterious words about his affairs; father's arms. But, oh! how unlike the rosy which led her to suspect that all was not go- girl, with whom they had so lately parted. ing well with his worldly concerns. Indeed. When the first joy of welcome was over, she he had never been a money-making man. sunk into a chair, pale, and exhausted, and Quiet and unpretending in his own habits, burst into tears. Mary wept too, and the he had indulged his daughter in every gra- father; but his were not tears of' sorrow, for tification which his humble means could af- now he believed that Anna had come back ford. And now, when that daughter became the same innocent and guileless creature she the "theme of gossips' story,"-when the had left them. True, she was sadly altered; whispers of those who delight to carry but this was not the alteration he had feared. evil tidings, told of her folly and hinted at Yes, she was sadly changed; but then she her disgrace; it fell with inexpressible poig- had looked up to him again and again, with nancy upon the anxious heart of the doating her clear bright eyes, in which there was no parent. Mary tried to comfort him; but, cloud, nor the least shadow of shame-and though she fully convinced him of the false- his heart was at rest. hood of the reports, and that his darling Mary could not leave them; and they sat child would return to him as innocent as together that evening, the father, and the ever, with additional claims upon their love, daughter, and the friend, united in fresh from her illness and suffering; still the many bonds. The old man spoke seldom. Mary tongued monster would make itself heard, busied herself with those little attentions and he could not be comforted. which tell more of welcome than the kindest Those who have never heard a name be- words, and that gentle and beautiful young loved, coupled with sin and shame, and creature looked alternately at her father and trembled lest it might be justly too, have her friend, with smiles that betrayed how her never tasted the true bitterness of the cup poor heart had been yearning for their love. of misery. To the good management of Frederick All other draughts may be sweetened; Langley, the invalid owed every thing. He but this is beyond the power of flattery, for had travelled with her in company with the it does not reach the object-of hope, for the old nurse, until they reached the last stage, blackness of desolation has already fallen and then, leaving them to pursue their jourupon our Goshen-and of religion, for the ney with the confidence that they could meet more we love God, and delight in the beauty with no further difficulty, he proceeded to l _ _ _ _ 1 THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 27 Cambridge, to recommence his studies, and opulent neighbours, provided only their resito forget, if possible, the fair image of Anna dence be in the country; for there the skies Clare. form a canopy more splendid than the hand To the three friends who were re-united, of the great father of painting itself could (Mary hoped to separate no more,) the first produce. In the ever varying tints of the fodays of returning confidence were days of liage, they have tapestry of the richest and nappiness; as the first taste of the cup of du- most brilliant hues; and what loom can furty, is often sweet and pleasant to willing lips. nish a carpet like the green turf beneath It is the second, and the third, that contain their feet the drops of bitterness. It is the after-trial But when winter comes, the stern aspect that proves the spirit; for the heart is deceit- of poverty presents itself in undeniable ful, and after many fair promises, will return gloom. Around one fire the whole family to its idols, again and again like the rebellious must gather in; young, and old; boisterous, children of Israel. and quiet; barbarous, and civilized, must sit down together; and then if there should happen to be one aspiring spirit amongst the number, which has soared upon the wings of fancy to a higher realm of thought and CHAPTER VII. feeling-alas! what a fate is hers! Anna Clare felt all the distinctions of richMARY could not always be with her friend; es and poverty, more powerfully than words and now the season was fast approaching, can describe; and though she was spared when household comforts are most valued, the misery of contending with coarse and and household troubles most deplored-the uncongenial minds, she found that one simdark days, and the cold rains of November. ple duty, of being cheerful, which she owed The flowers and the plants, which had grown both to her father and herself, indescribably around the window of Anna's little parlour, irksome. weaving themselves into garlands of beauty, There are those who shut themselves up were all withered and beaten down. Pools in retirement, thinking that danger exists onof water stood upon the gravel walks, and ly in the pleasures of the world, and safety when the door was opened the angry tem- in their exclusion. But let them look well to pest rushed in, and Anna and her father were the choice they have made, and ask, whethboth feeble, and little able to contend with er the evils of solitude may not be as offenstorms of any kind. sive in the sight of their Creator as those of This chilly season is the time when the society. For themselves, they have an unheart draws upon its little store of hoarded doubted right, both to know, and to choose, treasures; or it may be, when it broods over what is best; but there are hearts that can its secret griefs. It is the time when happy bear witness to the sins of solitude; to the faces are lighted up at the cheerful fire; or sins, and the sufferings too. when the solitary sits musing in tenfold lone- Hearts, that have been weighed down with liness; when the rich and the gay delight the leaden stupor of melancholy, until every themselves with artificial pleasures; and affection was swallowed up in self, every when the poor are made to feel the reality of feeling lost in the ocean of misery, from their poverty. whence no gentle dew is exhaled, as an offerWhile the summer lasts, the bright and ing of gratitude to heaven. bountiful summer, that grudges not to spread This winter would indeed have been a,nag her beauties in the path of the lowliest pil- and heavy season to Anna Clare, had she grim, it is not difficult for those who are rais- not been able to resume her favourite amuseed above abject want, to vie with their more ment; to which she returned with her wont 28 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. ed avidity, as soon as her strength would al- what few can imagine, because few have low. The sketches she had made in Scot — known it. And if he do sometimes value land, became more valuable to her every day, his performance at what the world considers in proportion as she forgot the pain, and an unreasonable rate, let it not be set down dwelt only on the pleasure with which they solely to an inordinate love of gain; for in were connected; and from these she busied his picture, he beholds the clear skies, the herself to compose a picture, which should work of his own hands, all bright and glowexceed all her other performances in excel- ing, as if no cloud had ever cast a shadow lence of colouring, and execution. To her on his path; the trees, in their perpetual eye, it was like a vision of paradise; for there verdure, and the seas, the lakes, and rivers, was the blue lake on which they had sailed; that know no storms; but most of all, his and, stretching far out into its quiet bosom, eye delights to dwell upon the portrait of a was the point of rock, tinged with the rays friend; for when he looks on that, memory of the setting sun, where the happy party brings back the time when it was paintedstood while she was sketching: the broken the kind words that were spoken, and the foreground, the rich purple heath, and the feelings that were shared together. Time scattered fragments of stone, on which Fred- may change the original. Alas! we all erick and herself were seated. Anna paint- know, that time can wrinkle the fair cheek, ed, improved, and gazed upon this picture, and dim the sparkling eye with tears; and until it became a sort of idol to her; but it oh! more than all, can estrange the heart, was not before her father talked of the price and turn away the current of the affections; she would ask for it, that she was aware of but this mute and motionless image bids her own idolatry; and scornfully as her defiance, alike to the ebb and flow of human proud spirit at first rejected the old man's passions, and to the chilling touch of time. sordid notion, after circumstances occurred, After many a lingering.ook, not unfrewhich tended very much to reconcile the quently blended with tears, Anna at last idea. determined upon the sale of her painting; It was evident to many, and now could no which accordingly was set in an elegant longer be concealed from Anna, that her fa- and costly frame, and sent to stand the test ther was failing, both in purse and person. of vulgar criticism, in the window of an She had no wish to encroach unnecessarily artist's repository, in the neighbouring town. upon his limited means; but she felt, more The picture, however, was not sold, painfully than ever, her own inability to though the frame was paid for; and Anna assist him; she felt, also, the want of many was obliged to fold herself, once more, in a comforts, both for herself and her father, cloak that was neither warm nor handsome. which she had never thought of before; for she was still extremely delicate, and the winter's cold seemed more than her slender frame could bear. "If I had but a warm cloak," she said to CHAPTER VIII. herself; one day, after a visit to Mary Newton; and then, the thought of her picture "THERE is nothing. puzzles me so much presented itself, to be rejected and returned to account for," said Anna to her friend, "as, to a thousand times, before she could really how you should always be so happy." make up her mind to part with it. 1" Can you tell me," replied Mary, " why The love of a mother to her offspring is that little robin bears so patiently the winknown even to the brutes; and there are ter's cold; and sings so cheerfully when he many other natural affections, common to all; feels the first gleam of sunshine 2 It is bebut the love of a painter for his picture, is cause he has never flown to warmer cli THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 29 mates) but contented himself with such things from infancy. For a long time we went to as God has placed around him." the same school. I was dull at learning, and "But you surely do not mean to say, that he was always ready to help me out. I in my situation, you could be happy?" was not, in my early years, so dutifu, a "In your situation, Anna? I would not, daughter as I ought to have been; and he vwllingly, give way to envy of another's por- used to tell me kindly, and seriously, what tion, or repining at my own; but sometimes, he thought of my conduct, I was often fretwhen I am weary, and the children have ful, and ill tempered when he reproved me; been troublesome, and I see you sitting so and yet he never would forsake me, nor give quietly in your elegant parlour, just follow- up the hope that I should live to have a ing your own pursuits, without any one to clearer view of my own true interest; and tease or interrupt you, it does seem to me to all these I will now add, if you please, a that yours is a privileged lot. But, mind true woman's reason, —I love Andrew Miller, me, I would not change with you, if I had because he loves me." "You are a good to take into the bargain all the idle fancies girl, Mary," said her friend. "I would that possess your brain. Constant exertion, laugh, if I dared, at your Damon and Delia has been a great blessing to me, but far sort of love; but it ill becomes the miserable before this, and next to the immediate pro- to make a jest of the happy, Have you tection of Providence I ought to reckon the never a Philander for me?' instruction and example of a good mother. "You may laugh if you will; Anna, and A mother, who taught me to be content with make a jest of my love, though not of my my humble portion, and to cultivate such lover; but there is no greater proof of the habits and desires, as would make that por- error in which you have been educated, than tion happy. So, you see, there is no merit the contempt with which you would reject the in my being contented, because this, as well pretensions of an admirer in your own sphere as every other good thing I am capable of, of life; and yet, to live in single and stately was taught me by my mother." blessedness upon a very slender income, is a Anna was silent for a long time, and when fate for which you are by no means preshe resumed the conversation, it was with pared; and to be carried off by a hero of a slight apology for the freedom of the re- romance, is a privilege not often enjoyed by mark she was about to make; and then the damsels of the present day." smiling, lest it should appear too serious, Anna knew of but one hero, with whom she went on. her own fate could in any way be connected "There is another thing, Mary, equally even in idea; one who was never forgotten, incomprehensible to me, and that is, how but so seldom named, that the two friends you can love that homely and quaint young seemed, as if by mutual consent to have man, Andrew Miller." ceased to make him a topic of conversation. Mary coloured deeply, but not with shame; It is true, the young enthusiast had returned for her attachment to Andrew Miller had with his fascinating qualities deeply enalready been acknowledged before her fa- graven on her heart, and his praises ever ther, and many of her friends; and so high ready to flow from her lips; but finding how wae her estimation of the worth of his char- extremely difficult it was to do him justice, acter, that she could not hear without in- without describing scenes that wore a sort of digrnation, the least slight, or insult con- doubtful character betwixt love and friendnected with his name. ship, which might reasonrably be misunder"I will tell you," said she with some stood by her friends, since they were not warmth, " if you can listen to so plain a story, very clear, even to herself: she ceased, by why it is that I love that homely and quaint degrees, to name either him or his merits; young man, We have known each other and Mary ceased also, contenting herself 30 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. with the belief; that no correspondence was " Is your mistress at home?" said a kind kept up between them, and trusting to the and well known voice, so unlike all other well known propensity of young gentlemen voices, —so impossible to be mistaken Ito forget young ladies, especially when ab- A few evenings after this, the members of sent; besides, they had both other things a book society, established by Miss Langley, of deep interest to converse about. The held their meeting at the house of Mr. Blanhealth of William Clare was failing rapidly, chard the surgeon, where two maiden ladies, and every one predicted that he would not of unspeakable age, amused themselves with live to see another spring; and dark sayings the following conversation:were heard about his worldly affairs, and C Dear Mis Langley, she has so little time harsh comments were made upon his useless for writing, and yet what a kind letter I have daughter. Anna's health was also extremely received from her this morning." And the delicate, and she would often talk to Mary lady spread forth a neatly folded sheet of of the cold Scottish blight, from which, she the finest writing paper, in which a few believed, she never should recover. wavy lines, extenting far and wide, told how Under these clouds the poor artist and her much the amiable writer was interested in father spent the month of December; and the improvement of the inhabitants of her Christmas, the happy time of good cheer dear village of L —, and how truly she and hearty welcome, brought nothing for was, &c. &c. them but that long train of gloomy realities, "There is one thing, however," continued with which this merry-making season is as- the lady, " in which I confess I am in the sociated in the minds and memories of those dark. Miss Langley recommends the study who have had to drink of the bitter draught of Belles Letters, and, between ourselves, I of poverty. cannot recollect ever having heard of them No rosy school-boy threw open the door of before. Now you, who have so good a meWilliar. C.are; no cheerful party gathered mory, may perhaps be able to help me out, rcT:nd his hearth; no games nor festivities for as I mean to order the book to night, you echoed in his silent home — but a sickly know it will be quite as well to say somedaughter leaned her head upon her hand, in thing of the style of the publication, its size, musing attitude, her eyes fixed upon the glim- price, &c. mering of a scanty fire, which just gave The lady appealed to drew her hand light enough to show the vast accumulation across her forehead, and then confessed she of bills and papers piled up on the mantel- had read the book; but really, it was very piece. The night was dark, a heavy fall of odd, she could not call to mind whether it snow lay thick upon the ground, and a fierce was an octavo or duodecimo. " Ah! here wind howled around their dwelling, search- comes my nephew, charming boy! even he ing every crevice of the doors and windows. has imbibed this love of literature. How deThe old man was dozing in his arm chair, lightful to meet with such young and ardent and Anna sat beside him, pale and motion- minds engaged in the same laudable pursuit." less as a marble statue, when suddenly a At this instant a rosy-faced, red-handed, loud knock was heard at the door, and they blustering young man, dressed.n a short both started, one from sleeping, and the other coat, and slashing a riding-whip about his from waking dreams. own legs, and sometimes the legs of his It was a long time before the old servant neighbours, walked) or rather waded into could unbar the door, and Anna stood trem- the room; and after staring at the young bling and agitated, she knew not why. The ladies, and stumbling over the toes of the foot of a man was heard stamping off the old ones, at last turned to meet the wellight snow, and she began to think he never come of his aunt, though with no very corwould come in, dial greeting on his part, THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 31 "WVhich is pretty Miss Clare!" said he, wo~,uld say that she was bold, imprubefore the lady had concluded her encomi- dent, and sought what she deserved to find, urns on his love of literature. " I came to her own destruction. But surely, they can see Miss Clare, and I'll take my oath there never have known how plausible is the first isn't a pretty face in the room. Jim Bowles appearance of earthly love, to those whose tells me she's grown confounded plain, and hearts are yet warm with the glow of youth, hasn't any colour at all. and unhackneyed in the ways of the world. "Speaking of the Langley's" said the aunt, So pure, so disinterested, so entirely divested " what can have brought the young gentle- of every thing either gross or mean, is the man into the country again at this time of first growth of this dangerous passion, at the year?" least in the breast of woman. " Why, don't you know that his horses are Anna felt all this, without one suspicion of kept at Langley Hall, and that Lord B-'s the candour and integrity of her lover; nor hounds will throw off on Preston Common had he hitherto harboured a thought that on Thursday; and a glorious run we mean was injurious to her. In him she saw only to have!" and then the young Nimrod set up the kind friend and companion of her sumhis hunting yell in the very ear of her who mer rambles, come back, to her, when friends had just begun to hope that he would at last are dearest-in the winter, when there are "get understanding." few external sources of enjoyment; and oh! As soon as this noisy intruder had with- more than all, in the winter of the soul! drawn himself, and the old ladies could To the gaze of vulgar admiration Anna again hear themselves talk, they went on, had indeed lost much of her beauty with her with lowered voices, to hope, but really they bloom; but to Frederick she was more lovely could not help fearing, that young Mr. Lang- than before. It is true, she was much paler; ley had come down with some particular her look of rosy health was gone; yet the view. " It was a sad affair, very sad, but colour had not so entirely forsaken her such things must be expected from bringing cheeks, but that it was ready to come back people up so much above their situation." with every varying emotion, brighter and They had long thought the girl was more purer, and more spiritual in its variations. like a play-woman than a respectable farm- There were traces of deep thought too upon er's daughter, Respectable, indeed, he was her clear forehead, but so gently marked, not; for it was well known he could not meet as to seem only as if the finger of sorrow his payments this Christmas, and that all had lightly touched, and then withdrawn itwould have to be sold up; and then they self, unwilling to nmar the beauty of so fair a wondered how much the moreen window picture. Perhaps she was graver too; and curtains would go for; and then, more inter- it was evident from her whole deportment, esting still, they branched off into the merits that experience had been her sage companof some articles which they had lately pur- ion-experience, whose counsels are, or chased for themselves; comparing the price, ought to be, so salutary; whose rejected lesand the quality of each, with many other sons are so appalling when they rise up in items not noted in the records of the book- judgment against us. When Frederick first society of L-. beheld her, she was like the creature of a poet's dream; but now a stranger might assign to her the station of a wife, a mother, or a friend. She was then more beautiful ChtIAPTER IX. to gaze upon; nowj more fitted to be loved; and he had come back with the idea, almost THERE are harsh natures that cannot enter amounting to conviction, that it was imposinto a situation) such as Anna Clare's, who sible to live without her. 32 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. 7 Respice JineZ," is a mooto that we ihave destroyed their long cherished conAishould all do well to adopt, and never lose dence: nor could any thing less than illness sight of through tne dangerons pilgrimage of have brought her again to be so frequent a life; but, most of all, it behoves the woman visiter at the house of William Clare, until who listens to a tale of love, to "look to the some confession had been made. 13ut the end." old man was failing fast, and she could not Anna Clare had no such extended vision, allow Anna to be left alone with him; and nor ever asked herself of what intrinsic therefore she came often in the day, and value the love of Edward Langley could be sometimes staid through the night, and yet to her; but listened, as weak and foolish the two friends would frequently sit in silenee woman will listen, while the only man who together, both feeling that they were not to had ever fascinated her young imagination, each other what they ought to be. poured forth his soul in high sounding pro- At length, however, the death of William fessions of never ending attachment. Mary Clare, put an end to all reserve, for they Newton was now forgotten; the bleak win- had more serious things to do, and to think ter vanished, the snow melted, and all but about, without consideration of their relative her aged father, seemed to wear the cheer- situations. fulness of spring. James Newton and Andrew Miller were Prederick had said all that the most ar- his executors; and when they came to the dent lover could say; —he would leave Cam- winding up of his affairs, it was discovered bridge in April, and then his travels would that there would barely be sufficient for the commence. She was to go with him to discharge of his debts, without leaving any Italy, where her health would be restored, thing for the maintenance of his daughter. and her skill in painting perfectedj under the WVhen Anna was first told of this, he first masters. Nor was it until some days heard it in silence; but she never slept on after his departure that this thought occurred the following night, and her feverish symp~ to her,-he had never mentioned one word toms returned, with an accumulation of disabout marriage, of the consent of his family, tressing feelings, which terminated in a seor any of those business-like concerns, which vere attack of the same disorder from which she was willing to believe did not often in- she had suffered in Scotland. trude upon an attachment, pure and roman- Mary was her faithful and unremitting attic like theirs; and therefore she was satis- tendant, and soon had the satisfaction of seefled, at least, she told her heart a thousand ing her restored; her mind too, was more times that she was so; but still, whenever at ease, and she could speak calmly of the she determined upon telling Mary Newton past, and of the future; though not of Fredall that had passed, there was something erick Langley. About him there was still a which put a stop'to her words, and she never mystery, which Mary could not fathom, could bring herself to make a complete dis- especially when Anna, in speaking of the closure, even to this faithful friend. future, added a hope, that she should not We know, that when there exists between long be burdensome to her friends. two intimate friends a resolution not to con- Anna, dear Anna," said her friend, "let verse upon one particular subject, which is me never hear that word from you again. intensely interesting to one or both, a separa- I cannot make professions, nor say that you tion, or suspension of intimacy, is the natu- shall come to live with my father and me; ral consequence; and tfus it was with though I am sure you would be welcome to them; for Anna felt that she was keeping every one of us; but we live so differently back what ought to be told, and Mary was a to what you have been accustomed to..ittle piqued that so slight a circumstance, that I know you would not be happy. I as the visit of a young gentleman, should have, however, not been idle during your THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 33 illness. I have determined and acted upon Andrew Miller. A large concourse of a plan, which I hope will make all things friends and relatives assembled, and Anna easy. I. will marry Andrew Miller. I sup- put off her mourning, and figured for that pose you know that he has taken this farm; day as a bridesmaid. The tables of James and then you can live with us. We have Newton groaned with plenty; good fare, only been waiting because I thought the and hearty welcomes, were bountifully disgirls were too young to take charge of the pensed; the children laughed and played family at home; but now, I dare say, they tricks with every body, and the old people will do very well, with mne so near them: hobbled in to give the happy pair their blessand if you do not like to be altogether what ing. There was not a repining spirit in the is called dependent, they shall come to you whole party, and even Anna looked pleased, every day, and you shall instruct them in and strove to smile at the coarse jests of the those things, which either I did not know neighbours; for, blush not, gentle reader, myself, or had no time to teach them. such things will prevail in times of festivity, Anna stretched out one thin and burning even among those who were formerly shephand to meet that of her friend; while with herds, and shepherdesses; Damons and the other, she strove to conceal the tears Pastorellas. that were now fast falling from her eyes; Andrew Miller was a man of strong, useful but she could not speak, for thoughts rushed understanding; cultivated, at least informed, upon her, some too painful, and some too but not refined; perhaps in his share of pleasing for utterance, knowledge, as much above his wife, as she "I have told Andrew,' resumed Mary, was superior to him in the delicacy and senwith her wonted simplicity; " and he, poor sibility which belong to her sex. fellow, is pleased enough. I wish you could Though constant in the performance of just tell me that it pleases you, for I cannot every duty, whether religious, or social; by see why you should weep so, when Andrew, no means forgetting such as belong to and I, and my father and the children, will charity, and good neighbourhood; he scarceall be made so happy. Perhaps you will ly knew how to extend his pity to those who consider of it;" and so saying, she left the suffer from imaginary evils, and strew thorns room, and Anna, giving full vent to her feel- in their own path. Thus, his gentle helpings, sobbed aloud. mate was often obliged to screen her friend "She is too good to me,' said the poor from his censure, and even in spite of her girl, a little recovering herself, "they are all good management, he would sometimes, too good; it is my rebellious heart, that will without the least idea of causing pain, give not let me be happy. Oh! Frederick utterance to plain truths, which wounded Langley, what have I to do with you? what Anna's pride, and Mary's feeling. There have I to do with any thing but sickness and were besides, little points of vulgarity about poverty?-why cannot I sit down content- him, continually striking upon the deli':ate edly, to be what they called me, the' village nerves of the fair heroine; and one single schoolmistress!" weakness, by no means confined to Andrew Miller, was a constant source of irritation and annoyance,-he was extremely fond of hearing himself read, though by no means a good reader, at least, in Anna's estimation; CHAPTER X. fbr she thought of Frederick Langley, and the fine tones of his well odulated voice, THn next circumstance of any importance, when he read to her in that'ittle village in which took place at the village of L —, the Highlands, and the moments flew so was the marriage of Mary Newton and rapidly along. 15 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE6 Perhaps there are few things in which the good books in such numbers, that she forgot cultivation, or refinenment of the intellectual both their nature and their names'. and all powers is more perceptible, than in the style the while her wandering spirit would fly to of a person's reading for how well soever happier climes, and clearer skies: leaving the these untaught readers may understand the dull realities of life behind. meaning of the author, it seems impossible The first coming of spring is peculiarly tc give his words the proper tone and empha- delightfiul to those whose minds are at peace; sis, without a regular parrot-like training; who feel the importance and the pleasure of and when they read from a book, precisely entering upon another year of duty and enthe same expressions which they make use joyment; and can look up to their Creator of every day, they seem bound to torture with thankfulness, that he has given them a their words into a totally different sound, taste to enjoy the one, and a reasonable hope merelybecause they are in print. The books of being able to perform the other. too, which Andrew Miller made choice of, The first pale snow drop that burst from were more ancient than the grandmother its icy prison, Mary gathered, and presented from whose library they had descended; and to her friend; and the first motherless lamb then he would give long histories of that that Andrew brought in, she would have givgrandmother, who had been a great person- en her too, thinking it might amuse and inage in her day, and figured as mayoress in terest her; but Anna's heart was far away the town of-; of the alderman, and what from the simple pleasures of the cottage, and property the different branches of each fami- she cared for none of these things. ly then possessed; with accounts of houses When the first song of the lark was heard that were pulled down, chapels that were one bright sabbath morning, as they walked built, levels that were drained, navigations to church, Mary looked up to the skies, and that were made, and commons that were en- inwardly blessed the God of-nature, who had closed in his father's time. Ana yet Andrew placed her in a world so beautiful and hapMiller was a good man, and ought not to py; while Anna bent her eyes upon the have been despised; for the number of good earth, and wished that little bird was singmen is not so great as to make them worth- ing over her grave; and yet, she had the less. Yes, he was indeed a good man, for firmest reliance upon the truth and fidelity he endeavoured to keep the service of his of her lover; but for all that she was not Maker continually before his eyes: to make happy. She believed, too, that he would it the rule of his actions during the day, and come again, and tfnd her, even in her obscuthe subject of' his prayers at night. A strict rity; and yet she was not happy. All supporter of the established religion of the around her was contentment and peace; and land; he served his king with integrity and yet she was not happy. uprightness, and his God with fidelity and Ah! that we could always compel ourzeal. selves to institute a strict, iimpartial, and If he made an idol of any thing, it was his thorough investigation, into the causes of our wife; and well he might, for she was a good unhappiness. That we would make an enand kind one and he was proud and happy quiry which admits of no tampering, why in the possession of such a treasure. But her we are not, as the merciful Author of catr Desickly, pining friend, he could not understand; ing designed we should be, numbe:ng our nor why she was not as cheerful as himself blessings, and counting the favottrs which and Mary; so he fixed upon the absence of his gracious hand bestows upon uas? Would religion as the cause, and perhaps he was not such an enquiry generally produtee the not so far wrong, as in the means he adopt — conviction, that we are not givien up the ed to remedy the evil, for he read the Bible whole heart to him, who has an undoubted to her till she was weary of hearing it; and right to rule over itt? That we cre making THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 35 no better than a conditional covenant, that, with horror, or shrink away with disgust;if he will grant us some particular request, to fix our weary eyes upon any object, rather we will then serve him; or, turning to idols than the countenance of a well tried friend, of perishable clay, which in a single moment who is watching us with looks of tenderness may be broken into fragments at our feet. and trust;-to seek, yet dread the darkness "What am I, O Lord, that thou shouldst when we lie down at night. and to awake in thus be mindful of me? O make me more the morning with a trembling sense of exworthy to partake of thy mercies!" was the posure, in the bountiful and glorious light of simple and earnest prayer of Mary, every another lay. Surely, of all the hard portions night before she retired to rest; while Anna which the human heart has perversely selectbecame a stranger to the duty of prayer al- ed for itself, there can be nothing to exceed together. this in piognancy of suffering. For the present she knew of no blessings, at The day arrived, on the evening of which least she felt none, for which to be thankful; Anna was to meet her lover, and she could and for the future, she had but one overpower- not help thinking, that Mary's eye followed ing wish, and if that should be denied, she be- her with uncommon scrutiny; and when she lieved it so utterly impossible to be resigned, stole out in the twilight hour, she felt like a that she never even supplicated help from guilty thief who is about to wrong his trustthat Being to whom all things are possible; ing master. and thus being unable to say, with full sin- Is there any beauty in a beloved countecerity of heart, " Even as thou willest, O my nance that can clear away the darkness of a father," she forsook that Father in the morn- troubled spirit Or is there any music in ing of her days, and went on her way repi- words of love that can charm away the ning. reproaches of the still small voice? April came at last, to Anna's anxious wish- Anna felt there was none; and returned es; and with it a letter announcing the intend- that night to her solitary chamber, with ed return of Frederick Langley. He was to heaviness of heart; but yet there was a take up his residence at the Hall for a few spell upon her, which she could not, would weeks, until all arrangements were made for not break, and all night long she wearied. his journey-for their journey; for he never herself with dwelling upon and comparing spoke of going abroad, or of the future, with- such pictures of the future, as love. romance, out associating Anna with his plans of pleas- and contempt of humble lifb, combined to ure; and yet, there was nothing said of mar- present. On one side, there was her poverty, riage, but a hint was delicately dropped, that her dependence, her weak health, and intheir meetings must be neither public nor fre- ability to struggle with the rough accidents quent. of life; her loneliness, for she felt alone, The thrill of delight with which Anna with those who could not enter into her heart first read tne letter, was soon turned to sick- of hearts; and the loathing with which she ness of soul, for she could not show it to her looked round upon the common herd, with friend; and she must carry on a system of whom she must necessarily associate, with deception with that friend to whom she owed all except Mary, and Mary was-married. so much, On the other side was a bright vision of goldWell may the anguish of a troubled con- en uncertainties, too dazzling to be looked science be compared to the gnawing of a upon with steady eyes. All that the poet worm, which dieth not. To bear about with dreams of when his soul is most elevated us continually the consciousness that we are above the gross things of matter, —all that harbouring some sinful purpose, which we the painter pictures, when his spirit takes the dare not reveal, lest the kMind hearts that are wings of the morning, and soars into its nabeang fobe our happiness should stagnate tive regions of light; and, above all, there 36 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. was that secret voice, for ever pleading with language of vulgar truth, she would, most the heart of woman, to lean upon the broken probably, have turned away with horror and reed of earthly love, to glide upon its glassy disgust, at once declaring herself incapable surface, to repose in its bower of thorny of an act of such enormity. But it is the peroses. culiar province of that power, which too frequently takes possession of the young and ardent mind, under the character of sentiment, romance, taste, feeling, or whatever fanciful designation its victims choose to beCHAPTER XI. stow upon it, to invest, with a sanctity of its own creating, whatever is brought within its IT was a part of the system by which magic circle; subjecting every sentiment to Frederick Langley quieted his own con- the censorship of the poet; judging of every science, and imposed upon Annals under- action by the criterion of "good taste." standing, that he urged her to do nothing And thus, many whose talents have fitted contrary to her own inclination. If' she them to be a light, and a wonder to the would commit herself to his protection, and world, having spurned at the precepts of reforsake her country, and her friends, it was ligion, as inventions to frighten fools: and to be of her own choosing; he only promised having trampled on the laws of morality, as her unchanging fidelity, a speedy rescue from intended only to restrain the base and vulgar poverty, dependence, obscurity and con- herd, have themselves passed away from tempt; and a free and happy life, in a land rich this state of existence, without having fulwith delightful associations, where her feeble filled one rational purpose, or leaving anyconstitution might be invigorated, her taste thing behind but a blank or a ruin to tell gratified, and her genius encouraged; and where they have been. And it is in imitawhere an attachment pure and unchanging tion of these eccentric stars, that minor lights as theirs, might be indulged without fear of give up their little ray of usefulness, and the censorious moralist, or the anathema of dance, and glimmer, and expire, like the the rigidly righteous. ignis fatuus of the morass. Anna listened till her senses were bewil- W ho listens once will listen twicei dered, and a dense mist seemed to obscure Her heart, be sure, is not of ice," her perception of right and wrong. Has been said by one who well knew the " It is for souls like yours," continued he, weakness of the human heart; and in this "to spurn the laws that were only made for manner Anna Clare proved that hers was baser natures. Your beauty was not given not of adamant. Time flew on, and yet her to fade in the damp fogs of England; your decision was not made; the evil day was heart to pine in the solitude of a country vil- put off, and surely there could be no sin in lage. Your noble spirit shall bear you to a thinking of it till that day should really land where it may roam at will amongst all come. that is exquisite in art, and magnificent in "Recollect," said Frederick, one evening nature." And thus the man went on; and when they were about to part, "that you the woman listened, like our first parent, to have yet given me no promise, and that in the voice of the tempter; until the one, clear, three days, I shall be gone." divine injunction, was forgotten in the con- Anna stood for sometime in speechless templation of a picture of ideal happiness, and motionless silence; and then said softly which now took possession of her whole but audibly. " Then in three days I must soul. Could this picture, and all the disobe- either go with you, or be left behind." dience which its realization involved, have Were there no words she could bring in been described to her m the unvarnished opposition to that fatal journey but this sim THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 37 ple expression of total and solitary bereave- Langley was in the neighbourhood, it was ment; "I must be left behind; a sound that not difficult to surmise the rest. There was touches so painfully upon the heartof woman. beside, a slight appearance of preparation Anna felt all its force, and exclaiming with in Anna's room, and Mary's fears were convulsive effort, "Then I will go;" she wroughlt up to the most agonizing appretore herself from her delighted lover, and hensions. hurried over the fields, and through the little It was on the night before that fixed upon gate, opening immediately beside the door, for the departure of the lovers, that, after a that was once her father's. She entered: long season of communion with her own it was the time of evening prayer. An- heart, Mary entered the chamber of her drew, his wife, and servants, were gathered friend, determined not to leave it, until she together in the performance of this holy du- had wrung from her a full confession. ty; and Anna knelt down beside them. Anna was still up, and busy with someBut 0! what a contrast to the quiet and thingwhich shehastily concealed. Herlooks peaceful inhabitants of that dwelling. Her were confused, and her whole manner was hair fell around her in loose tresses, her cheek constrained and embarrassed. was flushed, and her eye wild and wander- "Anna," said Mary, seating herself, and ing. She uttered no response to the pray- extinguishing her candle, "I have come to ers-she joined not the hymn which that talk with you, for a little while. I know that night arose to heaven. my company is an intrusion, and I once Mary went with her friend to her own thought, that if ever I should arrive at this apartment, for she thought she must sure- conviction, I should leave you for ever. ly be ill, and might want something; so But I am not yet prepared to leave you, setting down the candle she said she would Anna, though you seem disposed to shake stay with her until she went to sleep. me off. So I have come to ask you a sin" No, no," said Anna,' you are very kind, gle question, and because I am in earnest, but I would rather be alone." in serious and sad earnest, I will speak at "Then I will come again;" and so say- once to the point; and now ask you, Anna ing, she left the room, and when she return- Clare, if you are not in the secret of your ed, it was with the quiet step of a mother heart, harbouring a design, upon which you who fears to wake her child. Finding Anna cannot, before you go to rest this night, pray was not asleep, she stooped over her, and for the blessing of Almighty God?" said she had just come to see that she was Anna bent her eyes upon the ground, and comfortable, and wanted nothing. was silent for some time; but at length she " There is one thing I want;" said Anna, roused herself. for her heart was melted, and she stretched "I will never be guilty of telling a deliout her arms to meet the embrace of her berate falsehood to you or to any one; and friend.'" I want you to pray for me. I am since, by evasion, I should stand as much a weak and sinful creature; but I cannot committed in your eyes as by a disclosure of tell you all now. No, Mary, you must leave the whole truth, I will tell you that to-morme, for I am so very sinful, that even your row night, Frederick Langley will set off for presence is not welcome to me." Italy; —at eleven o'clock, his carriage will And thus they parted for the night. pass your gate, and,-I am to be his comIn the morning Anna was not disposed to panion!" be more communicative, nor Mary to intrude A long silence followed, for Anna had upon her confidence; so they both went nothing more to say, and Mary was not through the day with more than usual re- prepared for so sudden, so awful, a terminaserve. But Mary's suspicions were awak- tion to all her love, and all her kindness. ened, and having heard that Frederick Thoughts of tenderness, mingled with the 38?ICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. recollection of early years, rushed upon her, who loves you most tenderly, when you are too powerfully for utterance; and she burst serving God, even though you should at the into tears. same time, be neglecting him; with this man, "I know what you are thinking of," con- you may reasonably hope to live happily on tinued Anna, "you are thinking of my in- earth,-with this man, you may hope to live gratitude to you. And, ah! Mary, when I more happily in heaven. I know that you am laid upon my death-bed, I shall think of look down with contempt, upon the affection it too." which subsists between Andrew Miller and "I believe I was," replied Mary, "but it myself; but that humble man, whom you was a selfish and unworthy thought." And despise, would sooner part with his right then, taking the hand of her friend, she con- hand, than he would make me a fit object for tinued, " Let us turn our attention to weigh- the finger of malice to point at, with scorn tier considerations. Let us think where that and derision." death-bed may be! But first, tell me truly, " Then will you, Mary, never look upon did my senses deceive me." And she ques- me nor call me your friend again?" oned Anna, in such plain and homely words, " That is a question which I am hardly that the poor victim of self-deception, who prepared to answer. I have striven to reahad been cheating her understanding with son with you coolly, and without throwing the language of poetry, shrunk back, wound- into the scale the least particle of individual ed and terrified, from Mary's strict and de- feeling, for we ought to look up lb higher termined investigation of the truth; while considerations; but since you have asked all that she could venture in her own defence, me, I will say that I do not believe there is was a few words about her lover's devoted any circumstance in life that can tear away and generous attachment. my deep-rooted love for you, Anna, nor any "Oh! trust him not;" replied Mary, "the situation in which I would forsake you. I generosity of man rwakes only while his pas- like not professions; but I do feel that in the sions sleep. And as for his love, think not lowest pit of wretchedness and vice, I should of it. A few years will pass away, and he be ready to seek you, and if it were possible, will laugh at the village girl who was the to save you. Nay, do not weep, Anna, you plaything of' his youth; and she will be dy- surely must have believed as much as this of ing in that far country, where there is not a me before. or else my conduct has sadly besingle friend to protect her." lied my feelings; but I will talk no more of "Mary, you do not know, it is impossible myself; it is for you, that I feel this torturing that you should know, the strength of a love anxiety; for you who have dwelt in the bolike ours." som of a kind family-who have been brought "Then, because you wander out by moon- up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord light, and read verses, and sing love-songs -are you prepared tb meet the common adtogether, you think you know better than we versities of life, without a home in your sickdo, what belongs to true and faithful love. ness, a friend in your sorrow, or the consolaListen to me, my poor infatuated friend. 1 tions of religion in your remorse? Are you cannot speak in polished language, but I will prepared to live on, from day to day, without tell you a plain truth. The man who leads asking the blessing of your Creator, at your you from the path of duty, and calls upon lying down, and your uprising? Are yoa your generosity for the sacrifice of your good prepared to be hurried to the grave, by the name, is not your lover; he is your enemy. hands of unpitymng strangers, with no tear No, though he may follow, flatter, and serve shed over you, no memorial, but in the you, I repeat what I have said, he is your wounded spirits of those who would gladly deadliest enemy; but he who strives to cor- remember you no more? And this, Anna, rect your foibles, who points out your faults, is but an outline-but a faint sketch of the THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 39 fate to which you are about to consign your- der the influence of such opposite feelings, to self. Fill it up, with all that you can ima- meet together through this critica. aay, in agine of wretchedness, and the picture will anything like confidence, Mary busied hernot be less true. I know too well that I have self more than usual with her domestic aflittle to offer you on the other side; little, as fairs, and Anna spent nearly the whole time regards the things of this world; but oh! let in the solitude of her own room. Once, or me intreat you to trust in Him, who can make twice, Mary knocked at her door, but as a path for his people through the wilderness. Anna opened it without saying a word, she We cannot tell when the precious manna will made some indifferent enquiries about ordifall, nor discern which is the rock that will be nary concerns, and left her to the meditations smitten, nor say in what quarter the pillar of of her own heart; wisely judging, that after fire will first appear; but we know that his having said all she could when the ear of promises are sure, and that he will never friendship was open, to urge her with releave, nor forsake his suffering people. Into peated arguments and entreaties, would only his hands I commit you, beloved friend of my be defeating her own purpose, by strengthyouth, farewell, and may his blessing be upon ening the opposition of her friend. you." It was a quiet day in April, but there were On the following morning, a note was no showers nor any wind, and the sun shone brought to Anna, which she read hastily, out upon the opening flowers; the buds burst and then presented in silence to her friend. forth, and the bees were awakened from It ran as follows. their long sleep; the birds were busy with " Dear Anna, their nests, singing as they built their summer homes; the fields were green, and the "I have but a moment of time to tell you, lambs, in merry troops, gambolled over the that I still keep to my purpose of going to smooth lawn that lay beside the garden and night; and as a proof how much I leave you 1=t~ ). ~~~~orchard of Andrew Miller, who stood for a to the liberty of' your own choice, I propose the. following plnlong time upon the threshold of his door, as the following plan. At eleven my carriage thefolown a. Aif hesitating which he should most enjoywill be at the gate. You of' course, will be the fair face of nature smiling in her loveliat your window. If you are still generous ness without, or that which perpetually blessenough to make me happy, you shall wave You would Mt~~~~~. ~ed his peaceful home within. You would a white handkerchief and I will fly to you; have thought, to see that man, when he but should anything have occurred to alter looked around him, that his cup of happiness your determination, and I see no sign, I will was full, and yet, when he turned to enter, pass on, and the world will be to me a wilderness. cc"F. L." there was an expression upon his countenance that seemed to say, "I have yet more." "Thank God!" exclaimed Mary "you are At the pleasant window of a chamber in not forsaken. Here is an easy escape for that same house, a window that looked out you. Strengthen yourself for the trial, and upon the same lawn, and was lighted up all will yet be well. This plan is admirable, by the same cheering sunshine, sat a melanfor you will never meet again, and the temp- choly creature, almost without life, and aptation will be so much less." But Anna parently without motion. That glorious turned away from these congratulations to sunshine fell upon her cheek, as upon a hide her tears; for Mary, in her uncontroul- marble statue; that fair landscape smiled able exstacy, had hit upon the expression of before her in vain; and those merry birds,all others least calculated to convey anything what was their ceaseless song to her who like pleasure to the mind of her friend. knew neither sound of joy, nor sight of love"You will never meet again." liness; to whom the heavens were darkness, Finding it almost impossible, for minds un- and the earth a desert? 40 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. The evening came, the gray, still evening; CHAPTER XII. and the birds that had been busy all the day, folded their weary wings to rest. The cur- LET not those who make great sacrifices tain of night fell silently, and Anna was to duty, be led on by the hope of immediate alone,-alone, in the presence of her God. reward. When a limb is severed from the It is not difficult to cherish in our hearts human body, the first terrible stroke is not an evil purpose, while engaged in the active all that has to be borne; there are after scenes of life, and associated with beings, seasons of pain and suffering, that must, infrail and erring as ourselves; for the bustle evitably, be endured: and when an idol of of business, and the dissipation of society, clay is broken in the dust, it requires time for both tend to drown the whispers of the still, humbling reflection, before its votaries can small voice. But in the solitude and silence be convinced of the reality. of the night, when we are taught from our Mary had int entered the chamber of her cradles to believe, and feel in our inmost friend, because she wished her to look for souls, that an Almighty being is watching assistance to a higher power. She therefore over us; that he who spangled the blue vault retired into her own closet, and spent the with an innumerable multitude of stars, and dreaded time in prayer; but she too heard led forth the silver moon along her pathway the carriage wheels, and knowing when they in the heavens, and spread the silent and passed on, that her friend was no longer in refreshing dews upon the earth, and hushed danger, she rose up with the thankfulness the winds at his bidding, is regarding with of one who has experienced a merciful eyes of benignity and love, the creatures deliverance. whom he has sent, for some wise purpose, Those who would devote themselves to to trace out their pilgrimage through a life the service of their fellow-creatures, must be of trials and temptations. Ah! it needs a prepared for many an ungrateful return-for heart of adamant, to look out upon a slum- many a heart-rending repulse; to which, bering world, and up to the glorious heavens, nothing but the consciousness of being about and yet keep this evil purpose unchanged. their Master's business, can reconcile the Anna Clare was more than commonly sensitive mind. Those who would save a alive to the sweet influences of nature, and sufferer from death, must often present an perhaps no other medium could have been unwelcome draught to lips that loathe its found so effectual, to restore, to its proper bitterness; and those who would save a soul tone, her wandering and distracted mind. from sin, must bear with that rebellious soul There was a sound of distant wheels.- in all its struggles to return; fbr it is not by No! it must have been the rustling leaves one tremendous effort that the bonds of of' the poplar, for this was not the hour;- earthly passion can be broken. The work again, it was no deception, she heard them in which they are engaged, is a work of afar off, and they came nearer and nearer, to patience, not of triumph; and there must be the appointed place, and stopped. For a long seasons of painful endurance, of watchfew moments all was silence, and then the fulness, and prayer, which nothing but a deep carriage rolled on, and the sound died away and devoted love to the heavenly Father, upon the breeze. It was but for a few whose service they are engaged in, can posmoments that her spirit had to struggle with sibly enable them to sustain. temptation, but were they not ages in their When Mary entered the chamber of her intensity of suffering. friend, early on the following morning, she found her agitated, feverish, and restless. "I am not resigned," were the first words that Anna spoke; " I wish I had gone." THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 41 "But you must be convinced, that the as are set before us, with indifference or dischoice you made, was a right one." gust? Oh! that we would teach ourselves" I can hardly say that it was my choice. that some kind friend would teach us, rightly I wished to go, and yet had no power to to value, and properly to use, that wisdom wave the handkerchief; there was something that is given to man, that he may profit withso still, so calm, all around me: and I thought al;-that wisdom which compels us to beof that beautiful hymn, which we learned lieve that he who created us knows best for when we were children,'Though no man what situation we are most fitted, in a world seeth thee, yet God seeth thee;' and it seem- where so many different degrees of moral ed to strengthen me for my trial." and physical beauty are, no doubt for wise "Then let us together offer up our thanks purposes, permitted to exist; and that when to Him, who stretches out his hand for the we are desiring what belongs not to our own de';verance of his rebellious creatures, when sphere, and indulging in the vain thought, the') ill not struggle for themselves." that in some other station we could be more "But I am not sufficiently thankful yet, virtuous, and more happy, we are in fact Mary; perhaps the time may come when I murmuring against the decrees of Providence shall bless you for what you have done." and arraigning the wisdom of Almighty God. "Oh! not me, Anna; you have nothing for What is the sum of misery brought upon which to bless me; you should only bless the world by this dreadful delusion, no pen that Being, who gave me a heart to love, and can describe. How many with wounded a wish to save you." spirits and aching hearts, have looked back "But I am not saved yet; —I commit no to the morning of life, when this important sin, because I have no temptation. I submit, choice was made, betwixt contentedness with because resistance is vain, but I do think, the things that are, and desire of those which that if Frederick Langley would come back might be! In thousands of instances it has and speak one kind word to me, I would go been the root of that fatal malady, which is with him at this instant." called a broken heart; and in the present, it Mary inwardly thanked God that such a well nigh cost the sufferer her life; —her trial was not likely to be repeated; and she wretched, earthly, perishable life, not that bore with Anna's murmurings, day after day, which is eternal: for in the quiet hours of a without reproach, and even without repining; lingering illness, other thoughts arose that for she believed that brighter hours would wore a different character. The strength of come, and that her beloved friend would live earthly passion was subdued, the clouds of to see more clearly, and to feel more calmly. earthly prejudice were swept away, before And here let us pause awhile, to enquire the clear dawn of undeniable truth; late, awwhat is the cause, and the root of that suffer- fully late, when it first shines upon the steps ing, which an inexperienced writer has at- that are descending to the grave,-when it tempted to describe, it may be, from her own first lights up the eye that is about to close want of mental power, with a feeble and use- for ever. less pen. Is it not in the cultivation and encouragement of those feelings which are not calculated to afford either satisfaction to ourselves, or benefit to others;-in the planting in our own garden, those seeds which are CHAPTER XIII. only capable of ripening in a total y different soil?-in an inordinate desire after those WHEN the jocund summer came, and pleasures which, however lawful in them- spread her smiling flowers in the path of Anselves, are and ought to be, unattainable to drew and Mary, Anna was not able to parus; and a consequent looking down upon such ticipate in their enjoyment. She was too 42 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. feeble to take exercise, and the evening assistance, had dressed herself, and was dews, to others so cool and refreshing, to her seated in a high-backed arm chair, formerly were chill, and damp, and cheerless. But occupied by her father. she never allowed herself to complain; she "You should not have done this," said never spoke of Italy, and the name of Fred- Mary; " you know it is too much for you." erick Langley never passed her lips; only, " I believe now that it is too much for me, sometimes when she drew shivering to the but I did not think so an hour ago. Perhaps fire, Mary could see that the tears were in it might be the effect of fever, hut I felt caher eyes, and then she knew that her spirit pable of any thing; so much alive, that while had flown away to distant lands. the church bells were ringing, I fancied I It was but twelve short months since that could really go along with you; and now I proud family came into the neighbourhood. have hardly strength to tell you how foolish Since Anna was rich in the possession of I have been." youth, and health, and happiness; and now Mary begged she would take some rewhat a picture of melancholy did her faded freshment and tell her at some other time; form present;-ofmelancholy, but not of des- but it would not do, she was all animation pair; for she never murmured, and some- and excitement, and could not be silent. times her countenance would be lighted up "Mary, I have been praying this morning by a smile, that showed how much she was that I may live till-till he returns from striving against the tide of painful and con- Italy. You will allow me to see him then, tending emotions, which often seemed ready for there can be no harm in seeing him to rush in and overwhelm her reason. It when I am so near the grave. I have was a faint and sickly smile, that told more thought of all that I will say, and indeed, than tears, what her heart had passed Mary, it is not of earthly love, but of heavthrough. Like the first gleam of sunshine, enly, that I shall talk to him then; and it on the landscape which the tempest had laid may be, when he sees how I am changed, waste:-the first budding of the trees, when that he will listen to me. I will tell him of the whirlwind has torn their branches. the hours we have both wasted, of the time The autumn of this year was unusually that may yet be redeemed, and surely he mild and genial; and so gentle and imper- will listen to me; and oh! Mary, if it be the ceptible was the progress of Anna's disorder, will of heaven that I should at last be instruthat Mary saw no reason for alarming ap- mental in his good, it will repay me fobr all prehension. It was, undoubtedly, a frail ten- that I have suffered." ement to which her spirit held, but there were Here their conversation was interrupted no symptoms of immediate danger. Much by the entrance of a neighbour, a young depended upon care and quiet; and here all woman who was on friendly terms with circumstances were in her favour, for no one both, and often came to sit with Anna, when could have a better nurse than Mary, and no Mary was engaged with more active occuplace could be more quiet than the village of pations. The young woman took a seat, L —, when the Langleys were not there to and they talked together about the affairs of disturb it. the village, the Sunday School, the clergyDay after day passed on with its little rou- man, and the sermon, to which they had that tine of domestic duties; rumour was silent, day listened. Mary all the while steaing and scandal slept, for -Anna Clare was ill, anxious glances at the countenance of her and poor, and those who had once envied, friend, now more than usually animated, could now afford to pity her. and beaming with a strange and radiant On one fine Sabbath morning in Septem- beauty, that was almost supernatural. On ber, when Mary returned from church, she her cheek there was a glow so bright and found that her friend had risen without any vivid, in her eyes such clear and dazzling THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 43 splendour, and upon her smooth forehead to the soul that is weary of the toils of morsuch calm and unearthly paleness, that it tality, to lay down the- burden of the flesh, seemed as if, in compassion to her young and soar away into a higher realm of purer spirit, the last awful struggle, the last terri- and more ethereal existence; and thus no ble separation, had been done away, and sooner is the future shrouded in darkness, its earthly companion had been permitted to than to die becomes the choice of the sentipass into the regions of eternity, refined and mentalist, in preference to a patient endurpure as that spirit itself. ance of the ills of life. Mary gazed for some time, thinking little Anna Clare had felt for a long time that of the conversation, until suddenly attracted she was gently and gradually passing away by the sound of a never-to-be-forgotten from the world, or rather the world was losname. ing its importance, and even its place in her "Speaking of the school," said the young visions of futurity; and, therefore, she conwoman, "reminds me of the Langleys. eluded that death must be at hand: yet, had Have you heard the news? that old Sir she fondly pictured to herself one scene, beThomas is dead, and the young gentleman, fore the last, and dwelt upon it with a childnow Sir Frederick, is coming down with ish intensity of interest; a scene, in which his bride to take possession of his estates?" her lover should return, and beholding her A deadly paleness stole over the counte- altered form so wasted by sickness and sornance of the poor invalid, and a cold shiver- row, should listen to her parting prayers, and ing crept slowly over her whole frame. let her last admonitions sink deep into his Mary had time to conceal her friend from heart. For this she had made frequent and the observation of her visiter, by standing earnest supplications, and for this she had up, and arranging the pillows upon which felt willing to die; and perhaps, if the truth she leaned; while her eye caught the sha- were fully known, she had appropriated to dow of a heavy cloud, which she pointed herself some little merit for the generosity out, fearing it portended rain; in conse- of the sacrifice, and had been somewhat quence of which the young woman took a charmed by her own disinterestedness of hasty leave, and returned home. feeling,-a disinterestedness that was sorely With Anna all suffering was now suspen- put to the test, when she found that he, on ded; and for a few moments life itself seemed whom she had bestowed so much concern, to be extinct. When she again opened her had chosen for himself another companion eyes, she was stretched upon her own bed, through the pilgrimage of life; and that, if and Mary was bending over her. It was its rough passages were to be smoothed for some time before returning consciousness him by a female hand, that hand must not be brought back the whole truth in its terrible hers. Night and day, this humbling truth, reality: but it came at last, and, pressing the with all its heartless and dreary accompanigentle hand which had been chafing her iments, was present to the mind, until death temples, earnestly and affectionately between became no longer her choice, for to her it both her' own, she looked up into the face of seemed impossible to live. her friend, and said, in a faint, but audible To go forth again into the wilderness, after whisper, "So soon, Mary! I did not think it having pined in the desert; —to set sail would have been so soon." again upon the stormy ocean, with frail From this time she never spoke again of bark, and doubtful pilot, with trembling comFrederick Langley, nor made the least allu- pass, and shattered mast;-to meet again sion to any circumstance connected with him. the crosses, and disappointments, and vexaShe was quiet and peaceful, and resigned to tions of life; with hopes that have been die;-to die, but not to live. blighted in the bud, and desires that have It appears an easy and a pleasant thing, failed, and patience that has not had its per 44 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. feet work, requires more true fortitude, and when they sleep, and self always. Their resignation to the divine will, than to draw dearest friends may sicKen and die, they are back from the brightest earthly prospects, too languid to nurse them; a miserable and sink into an early grave: and yet so it population may be starving around, they are was with the miserable invalid, that her too delicate to feed them! afflictions, privadisease made no progress, and she found tions and crosses, may be sent amongst the herself, after the expiration of the winter circle in which they exist-they "have a months, not only alive, but evidently gaining silent sorrow," so deep-seated and overstrength; and painful duties, which in her whelming, that they can neither pity nor reweakness she had set aside as utterly im- lieve them; and they would rather give a practicable, now came crowding upon her lecture on their own distresses, than listen in terrible magnitude and hated reality. And to the rejoicing of a multitude. If they then the indescribable gloom, and darkness escape the temptation of a sinful world, to of that little chamber, in which she first arose which their minds are peculiarly open, from from her sick bed, and looked out again upon having had raised up in them a false appetite, a a world, which presented nothing to her craving for unwholsome food, it is but to drag perverted eye but an interminable waste of on a neglected, weary, and loathed existence, barrenness. and to arrive at the confines of the grave How little do we know ourselves! Anna without having gathered one flower to Clare had imagined, that in the calmness sweeten it; and to look forward into eternity with which she had welcomed the approach without having insured one rational ground of death, there was mingled no inconsidera- of hope to glimmer in the gulf of darkness. ble share of willing submission to the will of Such is the history of the last stage of a gracious and overruling Providence; but the existence of many a melancholy young where was that submission now? Alas! lady; who, while she was young, might very it had only been conditional; for no sooner beautifully have hung her harp upon the was the decree gone forth, that she must willows, and the world at first might have live, and not die, then her heart was torn sighed over its silent chords, and pitied the with repining, and her cup of wretchedness mute minstrel: but neither a silent harp, nor was full. a mute minstrel, will long engage the symThere is nothing more selfish than melan- pathy of the world. We must either play choly; and lamentable is it to find, that the for its pastime, or labour in its service. Its sentimental world have invested this absorb- stirring communities extend not their patroning malady with a kind of interest which age to any quiescent member, and if we will makes it rather sought than shunned by vast sit down by the way side, while our more multitudes of young ladies who, too indolent energetic companions pass on, the inevitato exert themselves, hang their heads for ble consequence will be, that we shall be weariness; grow sallow for want of ex- left behind, if not actually trampled under ercise, and sigh for want of fresh air; who their feet. read novels for want of rational excitement; fall in love for want of something else to do; fancy themselves heroines because they are in fact, nothing; and drawl out to troops of confidential friends, long histories of imagi- CHAPTER XIV. nary troubles, because they know no real ones. The victims of this disease may be "Is there nothing," said Andrew Miller to known by their perpetually babbling about his wife, one day, as they walked to the house pains and palpitations. Nerves occupy of a neighbour; "is there nothing that can their attention when they wake, nightmare be done for this poor young woman? Do THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 45 you really think, that if she could get out a The tale of Mahomed and the mountain, little into the fresh airs it would not do her probably did not occur to Anna at the time, good? or she might very reasonably have asked, Mary had so long dreaded this remark, why the old woman could not come to her; that it was almost a relief to her when it was so after a great deal of bargaining with her made; and yet she knew not what to say in curiosity, which refused to be satisfied with behalf of her friend: for she believed in her any thing short of payment in full, she mufheart that she was now capable of perform- fled herself up, and leaning on the arm of her ing many active duties, yet she saw her faithful friend, walked, to her own amazeevery day, languid, listless, and weary of ment, quite up to the cottage, without any exherself. It was a delicate and painful task traordinary fatigue. to rouse her; as Mary was situated, pecu- Phebe's little room had been swept and liarly so; for it seemed almost like grudg- sanded. The door was set open to admit ing her the indulgencies of sickness: but if the scent of sweet-briar, and southern-wood; she would not rouse herself, it must be done the kettle was humming on the fire; and she for her; for there was neither kindness or herself, with neatly pinned kerchief, and wisdom in permitting her to be so lost; and, white apron, sat beside the open window, therefore, one fine Sunday afternoon, when poring over the pages of her Bible; with Anna had ventured down stairs to join the which she was too fully occupied to observe family, and had even been attracted to the that any one approached; but when she did door, by little Martha's exclamation about look up and saw the face that was dearest to primroses and violets; Mary was glad to her on earth, she met that altered countemake use of a message from old Phebe, as an nance with the welcome of a mother to her introduction to the lecture, which she in- child; for she had rocked Anna Clare in her tended should follow, if necessary. cradle, and sung her to sleep on her bosom, "Old Phebe!" exclaimed Anna, as soon and knelt at the death-bed of both her as she heard the name, "I had quite forgot- parents. ten poor Phebe! Where does she live?" "Poor thing!" said Phebe, when she had "She lives in the thatched house at the a little recovered herself, "you must have end of the lane; and, I assure you, she has been very ill; I am sure you must; or you not forgotten you, for she often asks about would have come to see me before: but more you; and the last time I saw her, she desired especially, you would have let me nurse you, me to tell you, as soon as you were able to for sometimes when trouble is nearest, kenn'd walk out, that she had something to tell you faces are dearest. That was a sad day to which I suppose is a secret, for she wished me, and a heavy heart I had, when I asked you to go alone." if I might go and be with you, and they told " What can it be?"' said Anna," I will cer- me, as if from yourself, that "Miss Clare tainly go to-morrow, or at any rate as soon would rather be alone." So I thought most as the weather is mild." likely, poor thing! she's out of her mind, and "We shall hardly have it milder than to then I feared it would shortly be all over day." with you; though I can't say you look so " Oh! but you know I have not walked for bad as I expected." so long!" At this time Anna was looking much bet" I would walk with you to the door. It is ter than she really felt; for Phebe's severe, but a hundred yards, and the poor old wo- though unintentional reproof, had called into man would be so glad to see you. Besides, her cheeks the burning blush of shame. it may be something of consequence, for she She had indeed been ill, but not for a long looked very grave, and very earnest when time so ill as to prevent her seeking the cotshe told me." tage of her old nurse; whose well-meant 46 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. kindness she had rejected, purely from a de- whole mind; but I did at last; and told him, sire to resign herself more entirely to the that Miss Clare would never thank any body indulgence of he — own secret and selfish sor- for taking money privately for her; that she row, had friends in her own station of life, that "Aye," continued the old woman, "I would not see her want; and if they flaled knew you must be very bad, for you were her, there was me; poor, and old, though I never one to neglect a tried friend; but was; yet I thanked him he had put it in my thank God, I have lived to see you out again, power to work for her; and I knew that Miss so we won't spend the time in talking over Clare would at any time, rather have a sixtroubles. Sit down, and I will tell you how pence of my earning than a hundred pounds I am getting on, for I dare say you are of his. I then begged his pardon for my freeanxious to know." Anna sat down, and dom, but I said I had lived long with your though she could rnot force herself to express family, and I had never known any of you much anxiety, her talkative companion ne- stoop to do a mean action; and I did think it vertheless went on. would be mean for me to take money for those " Well then, when all was sold up,-but I who had no right to it. Now tell me if I did said I would not talk of troubles-the execu- wrong, for I had you in my heart all the time, tors provided me with this cottage; and the and I tried to speak as you would have spoknext thing was to find something to do. For en; else, may be, I might have taken the a long time I was, I must say, rather hardly money, for I knew you wanted it ill enough." put to it; but as soon as I heard of the fami- "Thank you, thank you," said Anna, " you ly coming back to the Hall, I made bold to did perfectly right." And the indignant go and ask for the washing. And, though I flash of her eye sufficiently confirmed her did not think the lady very pleasant at first, words. my request was granted, no doubt, through They then talked on other subjects, and the kindness of Sir Frederick; for he follow- Anna felt more cheerfu than she had done ed me out by the back gate, and asked about for many past months. the family, I mean about you, and I told him " You shall not go home and tell them you were dying of a bad illness, all owing that I would not give you a cup of tea;" to that cold you caught when you were away said the old woman, and she rose up and so long in the North; after which he asked bestirred herself, that her young mistress, as me no more questions, but told me my re- she always called her, might be refreshed quest should be attended to, and went back in time to return before it was late. Anna into the house. The very next day who could not refuse her hospitality, and it was should I see coming in at my door, but Sir wonderful with how much relish she partook Frederick himself. He looked round at of Phebe's tea, and cakes hot from her oven. first, as if to be sure that no one was here; It was a clear and quiet afternoon in and then taking out his pocket book, unfolded April; so still and cloudless, that all things several notes, and choose out a bill of fifty seemed to acknowledge the influence of' the pounds. He then began, I thought rather sabbath, except the rooks, that were wheelawkwardly, to say that he feared Miss Clare ing about over-head with as much noismt&s might want many things in her illness, which if the world depended on the building of the Millers could not afford; and therefore their nest, and the rearing of their young. he had come to leave some money with me "There is but one thing that troubles me,' for her especial use, to be laid out without said Phebe, as they walked together down her knowledge, the lane, " and if I might make bold to ask I looked at the note, and I saw the fifty as you, I think it would be a comfort to me; plain as I see that book; nay I believe, I just to come and read to me, sometimes, looked twice before I ventured to speak my when you are quite well; but not before 5 THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 47 fbr I never was a scholar, though I can spell "No, no," said she, covering up her head something out in the Bible, but the tracts with the bed-clothes, 66I cannot do it yet!" that Mrs. Miller leaves me, I cannot puzzle and then she thought of all the little Newthem out at all. This good woman does tons one after another, their red faces, and sometimes read them to me, and says she coarse hair, their chilblains and worsted would do it oftener, but she has no time; for stockings, and corduroy trowsers; and she it is wonderful how much she does in the was quite sure it was impossible; so she village, besides attending to her family, took her breakfast once more in her own and teaching her brothers and sisters their room; but the morning was fine, and she lessons." soon after arose, and opening her window, "Teaching them their lessons!" exclaimed looked out into the garden, where Andrew Anna, for a loud peal was now rung upon was digging, and Mary standing beside him her conscience, and she seemed in one mo- in earnest conversation. ment to awake to a full and perfect sense of "I should be very glad to do it," said the her own negligence and ingratitude. husband, as he stamped upon his spade; " Good night, Phebe," said she, when they " but these times are so pinching, and really parted at Andrew's door, "'send for me our expenses this year will be very consiwhenever you are at liberty, and I will come derable. Let me see: how much would a and read to you." quarter's schooling be!" With an unaltered manner, Anna that "I would not ask you," said Mary, c" if I evening joined the family of her friend. She had time to teach her, but you know I have was, it is true, much distressed, when look- as much as I can manage with our own ing back upon her past life; and while they young people." all knelt down in prayer together, her cheeks " I wish that trouble was off your hands:" were bathed with tears of sincere and heart- said he of the spade. felt penitence. But now it was an active sor- " That it might be," replied the wife, " if I row that she felt; a sorrow that powerfully would consent to let my father send them to urged her to begin a new life, and redeem school; but I always put him off, thinking her lost time. In the morning, however, the it will be a nice thing for Anna when she difficulties attending upon the commence- recovers." ment of a different course, appeared much "In my opinion she never will recover," greater than they had done, with the stimu- murmured the husband; and then they lus of the evening to oppose them; and went to another part of the garden, leaving she lay awake a long time, pondering upon Anna to digest, with what appetite she the possibility of performing the arduous might, the bitter food they had so unconduties which presented themselves. sciously set before her. Could she really go down to Mary, with After a struggle of a few moments, her a formal proposition to take upon herself the decision was made, and she went down to education of her brothers and sisters? It her friend, who was already surrounded by was almost impossible! For besides in- her little flock, Mary's own words, " a nice volving herself in a long series of disagree- thing for Anna," still ringing in her ears. able occupations, it would seen like an ac- "I have come to help you, Mary," said knowledgement of her past culpability, and the invalid. neglect; and she felt little disposition to Thank you, thank you," replied herfriend, bear the triumphant looks which she knew "but you must take this chair by the fire," that Andrew would throw towards his wife, from which she arose, and placing before while he seemed to say, " So she has come Anna the table, and the desk, left her for a to her senses at last." while, on the plea of other engagements, 48 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. kindly thinking that her first instalment will over the pleasures of the past, and feast into office would be more easily endured again from the forbidden tree; the inevitaalone. ble consequence of which was, that she alIt is scarcely possible that any one should ways returned from these walks with an adwish to know how the business of that ditional cloud upon her brow, and a heavier morning was carried on. Those who have load upon her heart. laboured in a school with a sad heart, and a "Are you going to walk this evening, weak body, know that it is an occupation Anna?" said her friend, one day as they which bids defiance to all the powers of de- were just finishing an early tea. scription. Anna replied that she was; and Mary Many were the anxious glances turned to- then proposed that she should go with her wards Mary's stately clock that day, both by to see a poor girl who had been dreadfully the scholars and their poor mistress. At burnt, to which Anna, not being able to last, in its own good time, it struck the wel- state her objections, reluctantly consented. come hour of twelve; and books were vio- On their way, Mary told Anna the histolently shut, and slates clattered, and bonnets ry of this poor creature, whose recent acciwith one string snatched up, and nailed shoes dent, indeed, formed the only incident of any grated on the floor, and benches replaced, interest, in her whole life; for she was a pauand all the noisy party took their leave; ex- per from a distant parish, about the age of cept little Martha, who, silently stealing to- sixteen, who had come to exchange her serwards Anna's chair, and looking up into her vices for her bread, in the family of a very face with affectionate concern, said, " I am small farmer in the village ofL -. It was glad to see you better again, Miss Clare." supposed, that having risen one morning " Thank you, my love," said Anna, as she early to light a fire, she had fallen asleep tried to lift the little girl upon her lap; but while blowing it; for when her shrieks had finding she had not yet sufficient strength, roused the family, she was found lying upon she bent down her face to Martha's rosy the hearth, but never was able to explain cheek, while her tears fell fast, and mingled what was the real cause of the accident. with the glossy ringlets of the child. The mistress of the house, neither very In the afternoon the boisterous little party kind, nor very prudent, could only shriek in come again; but Mary insisted upon attend- concert with the girl; and the master added ing to them herself during half the day, until his bass, wondering why people need have Anna was stronger and better able to bear such creatures in their houses; for she had the fatigue. She would very gladly give always eaten more than she was worth; and them up to her in the morning, for she had when the doctor was sent for, he would not many other occupations which she could not stir an inch towards the place before he had well neglect; so soon, however, as Anna was informed himself to what parish she belongable to bear with them all the day, she made ed, and whether he was likely to obtain a no farther resistance, and it was astonishing full and speedy remuneration for his pains.* how cheerful the young schoolmistress found "She is a great sufferer," continued Maherself when the clock struck five, and she ry, " she has been laid upon her bed without felt that a very important, though somewhat the power to move, for ten weeks; and there irksome duty, had been faithfully performed. is no prospect -of her recovery. Yet no one The evenings were now growing long cares whether she lives or dies, except fbr enough for a walk after tea, and Anna could the trouble she is to them. She has so manot deny herself the luxury of walking alone, ny frightful wounds, that she requires a sometimes with a volume of Byron in her great deal of support, and I do believe she is hand, and sometimes with the reins of ima- grudged by the parish every morsel that she gination let loose, that fancy might roam at A fact. THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 49 eats. And all day long, her master and cept for the dressings and the movings, as I mistress are quarrelling about her; the one said before." declaring that she cannot do without some " And you want for nothing?" asked Mary. help to nurse her, and the other saying all " Oh! no, nothing. I have every thing I kinds of cruel things in her hearing, about can desire." parish beggars hanging on their hands, and "And your mistress is kind to you?" eating the bread out of their mouths." " She's kind in her way, ma'am; but that's By this time the two friends had reached very different from your way." the house. They knocked, and after wait- Mary then offered to read to her, requesting a long time, the door was opened by a ing her to choose out of a number of tracts, slovenly woman, who let them in, with many or, if she preferred it, a chapter of the Bible. complaints, that she was now never fit to be The girl chose the latter, and while Anna seen by any one. She then showed them sat listening to Mary's gentle but untutored into a little sleeping room, on the- ground- voice, she could not help wondering how it floor, where. on a narrow bed without hang- was that she felt so much happier that evenings, lay the poor orphan girl; her cheerful ing than when she walked out alone, or with rosy face peeping over the bed-clothes that only Byron for her companion. were none of the whitest. Her eyes were "This you must allow to be a real misery," wild and bright with fever, her teeth white said Anna, when they left the house. and prominent, while, with every appear- "I should indeed say it was a real misery," ance of hunger, she was gnawing a well- replied her friend, " if he who sends afflicpicked bone; not that she was really too tions to try his creatures did not boumifully scantily supplied, but the state of her body dispense his mercies too. I have seen this occasioned a continual craving for food.- poor child often, yet have I never heard her On seeingMary, she laid down the bone and complain. And if' a countenance might bt smiled; for this was not her first visit, and trusted, I should say that she was not only she had never heard any one speak to her so resigned, but cheerful. It is true, she is kindly as Mary in her whole life. treated with what we should call cruelty, and Mary asked her a few questions, and then, neglect; but never having known the comdetermined that her friend should see for fort of kindness, she does not feel the want herself what real misery there was in the of it. She knows that she must die; and world, she folded down the bed clothes be- yet I do believe this poor friendless creature fore she:could be aware of her intention, and is blessed upon her sick bed, with such gloexposed, to her astonishment and horror, rious visions of a future life, as a king might the whole of one shrivelled arm and shoulder. wisely give his crown to purchase. Then "I dare say you think * looks very bad, ought not this, Anna, to be a lesson to us; ma'am," said the poor girl to Anna; "but and a warning to look well into ourselves, dear me! I'm quite easy now. It's when and see, when we complain and feel unthey move me that I suffer most. Perhaps happy, whether the fault is not with our own I don't bear it so well as I might; for they hearts; and try, whether by some act of self-'tell me I should not complain: it's they that denial, the giving up of some idol, or the perought to complain who have all the trouble; formance of some needful duty, accompanied and a deal of trouble they have, I'm sure, always by earnest and humble prayer, we though it's no fault of mine. It's ten weeks cannot remove the burden from our spirits, now, ma'am, since it happened; and if it was and look with cheerfulness and gratitude not for this good lady, I should feel the time upon a world, where so much is designed long; but she comes every two or three days, and calculated to give us pleasure. and then it's something to think about be- On the following day Anna recollected tween times, so that I get on very well, ex- that she had never yet fulfilled her promise 16 50 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. to Phebe, and, therefore, when the evening suits, the eye whose watchful glance has came, she took with her a tract which Mary been as a light around our feet! a light it had recommended, and went to sit an hour may have been, which served only to dazzle with her old friend, whom she found in the and bewilder; but what resplendent lumisame room, still clean and comfortable, nary in after-life, will ever beam upon our though she was herself busy ironing and pre- path with a brightness like this! paring an extensive assortment of clean linen Anna at last discovered amongst her drawfor the Hall. ings, a scene on one of the lakes of North Anna sat down, and though her eye some- America, which she fancied might be made times caught the initials of Frederick Lang- into a painting; and this being safe ground ley, and rested for a moment upon the ele- to work upon, she set about it in a very diligant muslin dresses spread forth before the gent and laborious manner, although from fire, she got through with the tract much to long disuse, her right-hand seemed almost Phebe's admiration, and with some little in- to have forgot its cunning, terest even to herself; and when she rose up With this work she was one day busily to go away, she had the satisfaction of feel- employed, habout the hour of'noon, when ing, that a kind duty had been performed to Mary announced, with some degree of ema poor and tried, and faithful servant who barrassment and confusion, a call from Lady richly deserved it at her hands. Langley, This lady was the daughter of an earl, whose interest had secured Sir Frederick a seat in Parliament; and for this reason, and this alone, some persons were daring enough CHAPTER XV. to say that he had married her. The match, it is true, had been very speedily made up ANNA Clare now began, for the first time when they were both in Italy, and whatever since h'er illness, to think of returning to her the lady's merits might be, it was clear to pencil; for the mornings were bright and any beholder that beauty had not been the sunny; the family of Andrew Miller rose attraction, on her part at least. She was, and breakfasted early, and her pupils never however, a kind, patronizing sort of woman, came before ten o'clock. active, and busy about other people's affairs, Her painting room, once to her the happi- having none of her own, and Sir Frederick est spot on earth, had been scrupulously being mostly in town. It was her pride, as kept by Mary, unoccupied, and undisturbed; well as her pleasure, to stand at the head of but it was a painful thing at first to enter that everything of importance transacted in the room, more especially to take up her pencil village of L —.. and having heard much and her palette, and seat herself again be- of the usefulness of Mrs. Miller, she had fore her easel. For when thus seated, there come to talk over with her the management came back such busy crowding images; of infant schools, and other charitable institusuch "fragments of disjointed things," so tions, in the hope of finding this good woman fraught with melancholy interest, that it was a willing instrument in her hands~ for the almost impossible to proceed with any hope promotion of her many, and often changing of success. Besides, what subject to choose, plans; for ameliorating the condition of the became a difficult question, for all were now poor. There was, besides, a lurking curiosalike to her-except those which she dared ity in her mind to see Mrs. Miller's friend, not venture to look upon; and then, who that about whom she had heard some very conwas qualified, either to commend or to cor- tradictory reports. So soon, however, as rect, would see her performance? this friend made her appearance, all that had Oh! how we miss, in our accustomed pur- been said to her disparagement vanished THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 51 from the lady's recollection; for on the very "I believe I must decline the honour altofirst sight of Anna, she took to her amaz- gether." ingly, and determined to draw her out and " Why, what is the matter? Perhaps you to patronize her. think I should be jealous. The last thing on With her warmest feelings excited, she re- earth I should think of; for, between ourqaested an introduction to Anna's painting selves, Sir Frederick is now so much enroom; and looking with every appearance gaged with public affairs, that he cares no of delight upon the American scene, in which more for beauty than I do for business." the most ordinary combination of prussian "Indeed!" said Anna, with well acted asblue and raw sienna, gave a very imperfect tonishment. idea of the distant heavens, she turned to There was a looking-glass in that paintthe fair artist, and asked if she did not feel ing-room (ask not why!), placed in the best happy in her sky. possible situation; and in this mirror, were " Oh I extremely happy," was Anna's in- at this time reflected the figures of the two ward response; but she had not ime to make a ladies, in clear and striking contrast. The more audible reply, for the lady ran on with temptation was irresistible. One glance the greatest volubility, not contenting herself was all that Anna ventured; but that glance with generalizing about tone and colouring, was sufficient to bring the glow of womanly but venturing fearlessly upon the sympa- triumph into her face, heightening the thies and antipathies of colour; handling, beauty which she would not at this moment foreshortenmng, and bringing out; until Anna, have exchanged for a diadem; for Lady bewildered with astonishment, began to Langley was a little, hard-featured woman, wonder whether her illustrious visiter really with dull grey eyes, and a complexion with knew a great deal, or nothing at all, about which all the colours of the rainbow, either the matter. singly or collectively, must eternally antipa" Ha! you paint portraits, too!" exclaimed thise. the lady, looking up to a likeness of William The different reflections which the tellClare, painted by his daughter. " Charm- tale mirror had excited, followed each other ing study! —What a dear old man! —quite much more rapidly than they could possibly patriarchal with his white locks! What be described; and all the while the eloquent would I not give for a portrait of Sir Frede- lady went on. rick!" she continued, in a more emphatic "Did you ever see Sir Frederick? He is, and earnest tone; at the same time laying I assure you, the best subject in the world her white hand upon Anna's arm, who felt for a picture. His hair is not so dark as no inclination to withdraw her own, since it yours. Why, bless me! (her eyes dilating suffered nothing by the conmearison. to their utmost width) you are exactly like "Is it possible? could I prevail with a picture I found soon after we married, you?" hid behind a trunk. I did not observe it "I never paint gentlemen." while you looked so pale, but now it's very "Ah you mean young gentlemen; you odd, I never saw a greater likeness in my would not mind an old married man, like Sir life. I remember asking Sir Frederick Frederick?" about that picture, and he told me some "I never go from home to paint any one-" story about its being painted by an Italian' Indeed! that's very cruel; but perhaps, artist." I Sir Frederick could be prevailed upon to " I should like to see it," said Anna, with come to you; and yet, I don't know, it is al- well affected curiosity, as soon as she had -most impossible now to catch him for two recovered her self-possession. minutes." "You shall, if I can find it; but that is hardly probable, for I believe it was put :52 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. away in one of those large haunted rooms, at broken canvas, which never had been thought the top of the house, where no one dares to worthy of a frame. It was the same picture go alone. But I'll go myself; and send it to which had once been seized as a prize, and you. It certainly has more colour than you borne away in triumph, now rescued by the have now, and looks —I will not say younger, hand of idle curiosity, from the darkest lum.. but happier. However, you shall see it ber-room in the great mansion of him who yourself:" and so saying, the busy lady had gazed upon it with eager admiration. wished them a good morning, and hurried Anna looked at her poor slighted portrait home. for a long time, and then exclaimed, " Lady "A good natured little woman," said Langley, you have richly repaid me! When Anna, as soon as she and Mary were left to I saw you in the mirror I felt a moment's themselves. " Sir Frederick had a fine taste triumph; now yours is the triumph, and mine for beauty." the humiliation. You are not conscious of "Hush, hush, Anna; take care what you what you have done; but I thank you from say." my heart;' and so saying, she laid the plc"Nay, I would not for the world say any ture on the fire, and was quietly watching thing against this good lady, who seems so the smoke and flames curl over it in fantastic graciously disposed towards her humble wreaths, when, suddenly recollecting that it servant; but did you ever see any thing might be enquired for, she folded it again in like her choice of colours-a bright laven- its cover, and never looked at it from that der! Nay, do not look so grave, Mary, I time; nor is there any reason to suppose that will not say another word if I displease it was ever thought of again, within the you; but do you know I have been solicited proud walls of Langley Hall. to paint a portrait of-Sir Frederick." "Impossible 1" "Yes, I assure you it was so; and now, Mary, what do you say, shall I dress myself'all in a green mantel,' as ladies do in story CHAPTER XVI. books, "And hie me to Sir Frederick's Hall, WHEN the first difficulty of returning to And to his lady's bower, her wonted pursuits was over, Anna applied And ask the menials great and small, herself to them with as much diligence as Which is the fairer flower?" ever; and in this manner the summer passed "I think I can trust you." away cheerfully and contentedly, with all the "Trust me, Mary! you may indeed trust household of Andrew Miller; but most of me. For-all the wealth this lady possesses, all, with Mary,for she saw that her friend and her rank, if she could bestow it upon was returning to her former, nay, to her betme, I would not place myself in such a situa- ter self; and this had long been the first wish tion. of her faithful heart. Lady Langley called In the course of a few hours a parcel often, and really took a good deal of pains to was brought to Anna, which- she took into cultivate an intimate acquaintance with " the her painting room, and unfolded alone, with lovely artist," as she called her; but Anna the door barred, her chair placed beside the had the loudwarning of experience still soundfire, and her feet resting upon the fender. ing in her ear, and in this instance there was It was indeed her own picture: too like little temptation to risk a second trial of her herself: for it was much the worse for the strength; for, added to her great repugnance time which had passed since it was painted. to go to the Hall, or to meet Sir Frederick "You have been ill treated too," said she, in any way, she felt so little interest in his a.x she looked at the dusty edges, and the lady, as sometimes to meet her civilities with THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE 53 coldness, almost bordering on contempt. So shalt thou find a wiser And fairer it may be; And thus, in proportion as Anna endeavour- But not a kinder maiden But not a kinder maiden, ed to turn away her eyes from the dazzling Than poor Mary Lee. superfluities of polished life, she acquired the Her love it was not given, power of perceiving and admiring much that Unsought by thee; had before escaped her notice, in her own She hears thy voice of kindness yet, humble walk; and with this power came also Poor Mary Lee I a degree of charity and general benevolence, Look on her cheek so deadly pale, which made it by no means a difficult task to And on her cloudy brow, And ask of thy ungrateful heart, listen, with respectful attention, to Andrew's Where is her beauty now X long stories; and perhaps Mary never was Oh! it was soon to leave her happier than when she saw her husband and Who was so true to thee, her friend talking and smiling together on Who never would have served thee so, terms of cordial familiarity. Poor Mary Lee! Music and painting were to Anna almost She never told to any, What thy falsehood made her feel; a necessary relaxation after the dust and She bore her griefs in secret, the drudgery of the school-room; and often, But her wounds they would not heal. when the clock had struck the welcome hour And now a lonely maiden of twelve, she would take her guitar into the At evening you may see, garden, and seat herself in an arbour which Wandering on the wild heath, Poor Mary Lee! Andrew had made almost impervious to the weather, solely for her safety and accommo- Oh! pale is now her fair cheek, And slender is her form, lation. For years she had been in the habit She neither seeks the sunshine, of composing ballads of that humble descrip- Nor shelters from the storm. tion, which, to one chance of being thought And hast thou quite forgotten rather pretty, risk twenty of being pro- All she was to thee, nounced very poor; and now, unconscious Hast thou not a kind tholght For Poor Mary Lee. of a listener, she amused herself with singing the. following words: ~~Thou'rt sitting in thy bright bower the following words: — With thy lovely bride; Weaving summer garlands, MARY LEE; To bind her to thy side. A BALLAD. Weave them well, and gently, Lest they rend away; "I'D go to the world's end for thee, S"tI' go to the world's end for thee, Oh! it is not flowers that can bind, ~~~Sweet Mary Lee ~! ~Nor love of yesterday. I'd pluck the flowers of Araby, And bring them home to thee! Weave them well and fondly, And fair let them be; I never loved before, But will she ever love thee, Sweet Mary Lee; Like poor Mary Lee? And I'll never love another Though I break my heart for thee. Anna had finished the last verse, and was I listen to the nightingale, just humming it over in a kind of reverie, Because she sings like thee; when she was startled by the crackling of the Oh! I'd go to the world's end for thee, garden fence, and two beautiful setters rushSweet Mary Lee! ed past the entrance of the arbour; nor was That has turned to the blast, All her sweet scented leaves, the walk-it was Sir Frederick himself! He And kept them while it pass'd: had been out shooting; and while about AnShew me the lovely woman, drew Miller's fields, the sound of Anna's And gladly will I see, guitar had attracted him towards the spot One who has never lent her earw To man's perjury. where she was singing. The words he had 54 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. heard before, and the air he well knew, and freshment, assured him that Mr. and Mrs. had often praised, when sweet sounds were Miller were both at home, and would be most not to him of such rare occurrence. He was happy to offer him any thing their house afnaturally fond of music; and as Lady Lang- forded. But Sir Frederick declined taking ley neither played mechanically, nor, had advantage of their kindness, and gravely any music in her soul, he felt the greater wishing her a good morning, whistled up his pleasure in hearing unexpectedly this well- dogs, and walked away. remembered ditty. Indeed, for a moment he Anna rushed into the house, and finding forgot every thing else; and when he leapt Mary alone, threw her arms around her over the fence, it was from a sudden impulse neek, and playfully kissing her forehead, of feeling, without any definite design, and " There," said she, "I have borne it well! in the same manner he addressed himself to For once in your life, Mary, give me one the songstress with the familiarity of former word of unqualified praise, for I have been days, saying, it was a long time since he had walking in the garden with Sir Frederick heard his old favorite ballad. Langley, and never did the sainted mother It is not to be supposed that Anna could, of a convent carry herself more distant, or all at once, command herself' sufficiently to more erect." reply; or that her countenance betrayed no "Then I will say you are a good girl," reoutward sign of inward emotion; for there plied her friend; "or rather, a wise and did at first rush into her cheeks such deep prudent woman." and burning crimson, as gave to her dark " So wise and prudent Mary, that if you eyes the sparkling brilliancy of their former were not married, we would establish a combeauty; but she soon recovered herself, and munity of holy sisters, and I would be the rising up with respectful dignity, asked after lady abbess." the health of Lady Langley. The rigid moralist may probably be asSir Frederick said no more about the bal- tonished that any credit should be due to lad; it was impossible to go on; both felt Anna, for having resisted the temptation of there was no common ground on which they flirting with a married man; but let us pause could meet; every thing was too distant or too a moment, to consider what flirtation is. near. Flirtation may be the idle frolic of an inAmongst the few advantages that women nocent girl; but it too frequently is a game possess over the nobler sex, is an indescrib- deeply played by a designing and self-inable sort of tact, by which, in difficult circum- terested woman. It may be carried on at stances, they can applythemselves with every all ages, and by all classes of society, in all appearance of indifference, to common pur- scenes, and circumstances of life: in the suits, or common topics of conversation; and court, and the cottage; the crowded theatre, thus by an external show of cheerfulness, and the house of prayer: by the miss, and and sometimes levity of demeanour, they of- the matron; the flaunting belle, and the faten veil from the eye of the superficial ob- natical devotee, who casts up her clear eyes server. hidden fountains of deep and impas- with the solemn asseveration that she knows sioned feeling. no sin. Deformity does not preclude the posIn this way Anna Clare was able to talk sibility of its existence, nor beauty divest i of to her companyon as they walked towards the.its hideous reality. Flirtation may raise or house, of the beauty of his dogs, and the depress the snowy eye-lid, and distort the scarcity of game, of the weather, the harvest, wrinkled cheek with smiles; add sweetness and as many other things as she could pos- to the melody of song, and soften the harsh sibly think of, before they reached the door. tones of discord; flutter in the ball-room in Here she stopped; and begging Sir Freder- its own unblushing character, and steal unick would walk in, and partake of some re- der the mask of friendship upon the private THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 55 peace of domestic life, like the serpent when would have chosen this walk in preference it coils its vile and venomous folds within a to the other; first.stooping down to gather a bower of roses. And for what great purpose little sprig of forget-me-not, and placing it does flirtation thus work its way as a pest near her heart. The conversation might upon society? Its sole object is to appro- then have been led by delicate and ingepriate to itself; that which it has no power of nious management to former scenes, conveyreturning; too frequently robbing the faith- ing the most touching allusions to sentiments ful and devoted heart of the rich treasure of and feelings, cherished in vain, and mourned its best affections, and offering in repayment over in secret bitterness of soul. And thus the distorted animation of a jaded counte- by the time they had reached the door of nance, the blushes of mimic modesty, the Andrew Miller, they might both have been forced flashes of a faded eye, and the hollow at so high a pitch of excitement, that Anna smiles that simper on a weary lip. might have forgotten her friend, her poverHad Anna Clare been possessed with the ty, and her pupils, and Sir Frederick might demon of flirtation, she would have raised have paid the same compliment to his lady. her eyes to those of Sir Frederick, with ex- And after all this, Anna might have laid her actly the expression which she knew (and hand upon her heart, as thousands have what woman with fine eyes does not know?) done on similar occasions, and said that she would have gone nearest to the source of meant no harm. long buried feeling. She would have sung She might, it is true, have done nothing, that silly ballad again, perhaps with trem- and said nothing, which, singly examined bling and hesitation, but still she would have and considered, bore the stamp of evil; but sung it, or have tried to sing it; and then what a farce, what a folly, is this self-excultowards the close of the performance, her pation; for by these secret movements from eyes would have been cast down, and a the side of virtue, of which no earthly judge tear might have stolen from beneath their can convict us, we place ourselves immedilong dark lashes, and her voice grown grad- ately on the side of vice; and to the early ually more plaintive, until at last it died practice of this system of maneuvering, away in a kind of distant melody, leaving though apparently innocent, and too often her quandam lover and herself in the most pleasing in itself, how many have to look back exquisite reverie imaginable; from which with sorrow and regret from the gloomy she would most probably, at last have start- close of a despised and friendless old age; it ed with a pretended effort at self-mastery; may be, from the miserable abode of folly, and then, as she rose to leave the arbour, and wretchedness, and crime. The weight and while Sir Frederick stooped for her of culpability rests not upon any individual guitar, she would have pointed to the blue circumstance; it is the manner, it is the moribbon, by which it was wont to be support- tive, it is the feeling by which every act and ed on her fair shoulder, saying, it was the word is accompanied which constitutes the same which he gave her when in Scotland, sin: and a deep and deadly sin it will be to and that she cherished such memorials of' many in the great day of account, when past pleasure, as all that her existence had their secret thoughts are laid open. now to make it worth enduring: and then Oh! that women would be faithful to tears again, but not too many, lest her coun- themselves! It makes the heart bleed to tenance should be disfigured. By this time think that these high-souled beings, who they would have had the choice of two paths; stand forth in the hour of severe and dreadthe one leading directly to the house, and fal trial, armed with a magnanimity that the other round by a melancholy walk, knows no fear; with enthusiasm that has shaded with trees, and dark with evergreens. no sordid alloy; with patience that would Without any appearance of design, she support a martyr; with generosity that a 56 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. patriot might be proud to borrow; and feel- easy, from the diligent and faithful manner ing that might shine as a wreath of beauty, in which they were performed:over the temples of a dying saint; —it makes S Sweet are the uses of adversity." the heart bleed to think, that the noble virtues of woman's character should be veiled, And sweet is the return of the willing spirit and obscured, by the taint of weak vanity, after it has tasted the bitterness of disobediand lost in the base love of flirtation; mak- ence. But Anna Clare was not yet to find ing herself the mockery of the multitude, in- her "perfect rest." Temptation was in store stead of acting the simple and dignified part for her, against which she was to defend of the friend, the wife, or the mother; degra- herself, without the aid and counsel of her ding her own nature, by flaunting in the friend. public eye the semblance of affection, when Seated one day amongst her little flock,: its sweet soul.s wanting; —polluting the al- listening to the monotonous recitation of dry tar of love by offering up the ashes of a was- lessons, she was surprised by the following ted heart. Oh! woman, woman! thousands note from the hall:have been beguiled by this thy folly, but thou hast ever been the deepest sufferer? — "Lady Langley begs the greatest favour Thine is a self-imposed and irrevocable exile upon earth of her, who alone has the power from all, for which the heart of woman pines to grant it, Lord Carrisbrooke has returned, in secret; over which it broods in her best the shadow of his former self. The doctors hours of tenderness and love. Talk not of have pronounced his case incurable,-he domestic happiness-it can be thine no more. fails daily. In a few months, perhaps weeks, The plague-spot is upon thy bosom, and its nothing will be left to me of my only brother, health, and purity, and peace, are gone for- but- his likeness, if you consent to oblige ever. Thou hast fluttered forth upon the me. I know the task will be difficult, for he giddy winds, like the leaf that wantons from is an invalid in every sense of the word. the bough; the same uncertain blast may His disease is an affection of the heart, which lay thee at the root of the parent stem, but makes him nervous and irritable in the exit will only be to fade, and wither, and die. treme; so that, were I to engage an artist 01 h! dream not of returning, when tired of from town, it might be weeks before we could idle wanderings; for thy return can only be make sure of one sitting. You are on the that of the weary dove to her forsaken nest, spot, and I can send for you at the happy cold, and cheerless, and desolate! moment when he is most at ease. I will not insult your feelings by offering any thing of the nature of an equivalent for what no money can repay. What I ask of you, is an act of great and unmerited kindness. I CHAPTER XVII. think you know me well enough to believe, that I shall not be unreasonable or ungenFOR some weeks after this time, the atten- erous; I therefore propose, in order to avoid tion of Lady Langley was too much occupi- all future difficulty on my part, and all uned by an invalid brother, lately arrived from necessary delicacy on yours, that you paint from Spain, where he had been wasting his my brother's portrait on the same terms for time and his constitution, to allow her any which I should employ an artist from town; leisure to think of the fair artist; who conse- and believe me, that in so doing, you will quently, pursued her morning, and noon, confer an everlasting obligation on your and evening duties, without fear of interrup- friend, tion:-duties that became every day more "LucY L —-." THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 57 For a few moments Anna pondered upon figure would fill the vacant chair, when Lathe contents of this note; but it was a case, dy Langley hurried in, exclaiming with which to a generous mind, admitted of no breathless delight, "He is coming, I declare, hesitation, and she gave her full and free quite of his own accord, and in the best huconsent to wait upon her Ladyship, at any mour imaginable!" time she might appoint. Anna looked round, and saw the tall figAnd then arose the dreadful mistrust of ure of a man, wrapped in:a purple cloak, her own qualifications, with a horror of the whose rich lining of crimson velvet was not nervous invalid, and the torturing anxiety able to impart the slightest glow of health which such an operation must inflict, both or warmth to his countenance-a counteupon the performer and upon the patient, or nance that well might have puzzled Lavater, rather the impatient. These however, are -calling forth his ecstatic smiles, and no agonies which none but the portrait painter less frequent tears. can imagine; for the heartless herd of look- Lord Carrisbrooke was much above the ers on, who can remark with indifference common height of ordinary men; and an that they do not catch the likeness, after unusually fine forehead, over which a profuturning it into every possible direction; or sion of' raven hair, added to something of who burst into peals of admiration at their aristocratical dignity in his manner, made own discernment, on discovering a resem- him look taller than he really was. His hair blance to some face as unlike that of the was slightly silvered about the temples, but sitter, as if, in attempting a greyhound, you so gently, that the white touches seemed had painted a toad, know not what whither- only to be a part of the gloss by which its ing anguish is shooting through every bone intense blackness was relieved. His eyeand sinew of the poor artist, as he (or more brows were dark and regular, and finely unfortunately she) sits looking imploringly arched over eyes which had once been at the subject of her performance, to see bright and beautiful; while a high and whether patience has really doled out her last commanding nose, thin lips, and noble chin, minute of mispent time. formed the outline of the face which Anna They mean no harm-they know not what had engaged to study, hour after hour, yet they do: but the emptying their coffers at whose varying and doubtful expression the feet of the painter, would be a poor re- seemed to set all study at defiance. muneration for the torture they inflict. Lady Langley did her best to place her A few mornings after this, Anna received brother comfortably in his chair; and then, an early summons to appear at the Hall. after bustling to and fro a few times from him With trembling knees, and throbbing heart, to the artist, and back again from the artist she entered the apartment, which had been to him, said something about her melons and carefully prepared by Lady Langley's or- her garaen, and hurried out of the room. ders; and then with what confidence she With a countenance of despair, Anna could command, busied herself in arranging watched the door as it closed after her ladythe window-shutters, placing her easel, and ship; while Lord Carrisbrooke, as soon as making ready her awn simple apparatus; he had ascertained that she was really gone, while a well-stuffed invalid chair, covered drew his cloak around him, let down his dark with crimson damask, and a rich ottoman, brows, and fixed upon his innocent companstanding near it, gave alarming indication ion such a look of terrific scrutiny as few woof the state and dignity of its future occu- men could have borne. Anna, however, suspant. pecting it was only a trial of her self-possesHaving finished all her preparatory work, sion, went on as well as she was able, when she was glancing from her brushes to her Lord Carrisbrooke addressed her in a hollow blank canvas, and wondering what kind of and constrained voice, assuring her that he 58 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. was a member of the Holy Inquisition, sent "Because I believe Lady Lang ey is unaover by the Spanish Government as a spy. ble to find any other person to do it for her; "I could more easily imagine your lord- and.because I am poor and want money." ship one of the Knights Templars," replied Lord Carrisbrooke was puzzled again; Anna. and shocked at his own want of considera"Excellent And you shall be my Re- tion, when he thought that he had been becca." And immediately his countenance throwing difficulties in the way of one who changed to an expression infinitely more in- was performing an unpleasant task for the supportable. sake of money, of which she appeared to be It was impossible to proceed. After many in great need; for nothing else, he imagined, unsuccessful trials, Anna at last laid down could have wrung from her such a confesher palette and her pencil, and, rising from sion. her seat, addressed Lord Carrisbrooke with The dignity with which she at first acthe greatest gravity and earnestness of man- knowledged herself to be conferring an obliner. gation upon Lady Langley, and then such " Since your lordship appears determined an avowal of her station and circumstances to frustrate, instead of facilitating, the perfor- as must at once place her in a sphere immance of a task -which I have undertaken as measurably beneath himself, was a complete a painful duty,-a task which would not, un- mystery. But Anna had purposely done der any circumstances, be agreeable to me, this; for she had made a strong determinaI must decline making any further attempt; tion, against which her pride was not able to and will therefore, with your lordship's per- prevail,-that she would undertake this pormission, inform Lady Langley that the por- trait as an artist, not as a friend; and when trait is given up." she saw what manner of man Lord CarrisThe inquisitor was completely at a loss brooke was, she felt equally determined that what to make of all this; a blush, a giggle, he should know that she was occupying a or a simper, was what he had expected to poor, and what he would -consider a conproduce. The blush, indeed, there was, and temptible, situation in society. And in order a more brilliant one he thought he had never to render this disclosure as little painful as seen; but there was no smile, nor the least possible, she made it at first, openly and approach to one; and when he saw the art- boldly, and then, thought she, " there will be ist quietly preparing to take her leave, he a barrier betwixt us which he will have no wished her well seated again, without any inclination to overstep, and I shall have no compromise of his own dignity. This, how- character to support but that of a poor artist, ever, was impossible, and he was obliged to defending myself by a little dignity, if' it beg her pardon for the past, and promise bet- should be necessary." ter for the future. Lord Carrisbrooke, finding himself foiled Anna was soon busily at work again; and in all his attempts to elicit anything like Lord Carrisbrooke, in unbroken silence, pon- amusement from his companion, began to dered upon her strange expressions. Pain- grow weary of his position; when a happy ful duty,-task,-anything but agreeable,- thought struck him, and he asked Anna if &c. "Many ladies," thought he, "would she were fond of mus:c? be proud to paint my likeness, and some "Maurice, my fellow, nas learned to play would be happy; but this country damsel, I wonderfully well on the guitar since we were dare say, would rather paint her own Da- in Spain, and he has, besides, such a toleramon." At last he began to think aloud. ble voice, that I often endure his music, when " And pray, may I ask what induces you I can endure nothing else. If you can ento undertake what is avowedly so disagreea- dure it too, he shall come and play to me, ble to you?' for I am growing miserably restless, and THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 59 making the folds of my cloak very unclassi- sion of the deepest melancholy. The a-r cal?" was plaintive, and the words, though possessAnna said, she should like it above all ing little merit in themselves, were painfully things; so Maurice was called in; and, touching to one, who felt himself so near seating himself a little behind his master, the brink of the grave. Anna was struck cleared his voice, and began- with their aptness, and affected almost to tears, as she observed the change they had "I SAW my lover mount on the war-horse in his pride, wrought; but still more so, when Lord CarI wish'd I was the soldier, who mounted by his side; risbrooke with that peculiar smile which is Light was the feather, waving from his crest, Rich was the mantle he folded on his breast. worn only by the wretched, said, in a playThe summer comes again, to the bird and the bee, ful and subdued voice, " Maurice, how dolBut Alphonso Carnairo returns not to me! orous you are: you'll sing me into my Tell me ye wild winds, sweeping o'er the plain, grave before I am ready for it." Fell he on the battle-field, with the noble slain Maurice looked up with anxiety and disTell me thou pale moon, smiling from on high, Where sleeps my lover, that near him I may die? tress. The summer comes again, to the bird and the bee, In their exchanging glances might be But Alphonso Carnsiro returns not to me read, the trust of a long-tried and generous I look to the blue hills that part me from my home, master; and the simple and devoted love of How could my young heart ever wish to roam I a faithful servant, whom nothing but death Fair is the land of the olive and the vine, But flowers may be smiling where bosoms may pine, could separate from his lord; and to whom The summer comes again to the bird and the bee, that long-dreaded separation would make But Alphonso Carnairo returns not to me " the world a wilderness, through which he would thenceforth be a wanderer without a "Enough of that ditty," interrupted Lord home. Carrisbrooke. " Let the poor lady seek her Anna marked the expression, and saw, lover without our assistance, and think of that, however harsh and rude Lord Carrissomething else." sonething ele." brooke might be to her, he could be kind, Maurice screwed up the strings of hs in- and gentle, and familiar, even to a dependstrument, and began again. ant, and an inferior. GBRAID no more thy reat obligations create strong attach~' BRAID no more thy hair for me, Fast my hours are flying; ments in generous minds. Lord CarrisSunny dell, and flow'ry lea, brooke was not prodigal of his affections, Spread their summer charms for thee; but Maurice had been to him in a foreign Mary, I am dying! land, what no one else could be. He had Lay the jewell'd wreath aside; nursed him through long illness, humoured Fast my hours are flying; Health, and peace, and hope, and pride, his caprices, and borne with his irritable Dwell with thee, my lovely bride, temper, when goaded almost to madness by Mary, I am dying. the falsehood and ingratitude of others; Soon thy lip shall smile again, and his master valued him accordingly. Fast my hours are flying; Nearly a week passed away without any Grieve not for thy lover's pain, Sighs, and tears, alike are vain, farther deman. upon the services of the artMary, I am dying! ist, and when Anna saw Lord Carrisbrooke Lov'd and loveliest, fare thee well! again, there was a frightful alteration in his Fast my hours are flying; looks. His eye was hollow and sunken, his Lonely thou wilt hear the knell, brow contracted with pain, and his whole Solemn sound of passing bell, Mary, I am dying!" countenance darkened, as with a cloud. "I see you are horrified," said he, observWhilst Maurice sang this song, the fea- mg Anna's look of concern. " I have been tures of his master relaxed into an expres- wretchedly ill. They have bled, and blis 60 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. tered, and half killed me: but now I have any signs of life; while Anna raised his escaped from their clutches for a-while, and Cark hair, and bathed his pale temples, and am, fair Angelica, very much at your ser- performed all those little offices of kindness vice; for a Tancred, or anything else you so. familiar to the heart and hand of wolike. So to business if you please, as the min. case admits of no delay. Let me see, —I may possibly -hold out another month. — one sitting a week,-will that finish it? by smiles, and flattery, and deceit. By deAnna was indeed so horrified, that she ceit, it may be, but let him who would make had no remark to make, but went on as she sure of this prize, debase himself by the was desired; while Lord Carrisbrooke re- vilest, of all treachery. Let him wear the mained impenetrably silent, and would have mask of suffering, if he knows not the realbeen motionless, but for the pain he was ity. Jet sickness waste his frame, and sorevidently enduring, which often compelled row set her seal upon his brow. Let povhim to change his position. erty clench him in her iron grasp, and in" I fear your Lordship is in great suffer- famy track his footsteps; and want, and ing," said Anna, " I will paint no more to- weakness, and misery, beset him in his daily day." path;-then, while his boon-companions fill "No, no, I can bear it vastly well,-the his vacant chair with mirth, and " set the worst is over for a while; I am only afraid table in a roar," let him seek refuge in the of faintness. Give me that phial, and then, tenderness, and the generosity of woman; if you please, go on. and see whether she, who withstood his fasThere is no time to be lost, and my lach- cinations amidst the blaze of popular aprymose sister would cry herself into the plause, the pride of beauty, and the pomp grave, were I really to'withdraw my pre- of power, will not be ready again, and sence from this blessed earth again, to offer the cup of consolation to his ungrateful lips, while she drinks the dregs "And leave the world no copy." of bitterness herself. Lora Carrisbrooke had scarcely done Let the man who is merciless to the faults speaking, when an ashy paleness stole over of his weak sister, look back to the days of his countenance, making it yet more ghastly; his infancy, and ask whose watchful eye and in his breast there was a struggling, as bent over him in his cradle, on whose bosom if for the very breath of life. Anna flew to he wept away the first sorrows of existence; the bell. and who sung him with her gentle voice to. " Don't ring," said he, with all the strength rest? Who protected his weakness, and he could command. "Maurice is always soothed his complainings, and turned his so distressed, and Lucy had better not know; tears to joy? Who sat by his sick-bed and you are a stranger, and will not care. It watched, but never wearied, through the will be over in a moment; —— may I lean night; forgetting her own existence, in the upon your arm "' intensity of her anxiety for his q Who The arm that never refused its help to taught his young lips to utter the first acthe needy, was willingly stretched out; and cents of prayer? Who, when the ills of life while he spoke the last words, the eyes of pressed heavily, poured balm into his woundthe haughty and stoical Lord Carrisbrooke ed spirit, and who at last will shed tears of were raised with the imploring helplessness sincerest sorrow upon his grave? Is it not of a child. It was but for a moment; and a bright being of the sisterhood of those of then the heavy lids were closed, and nothing old, who stole away in the darkness of the but a slight working of the underjaw gave morning, to ofler spices and precious oint THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 61 ments as a last tribute of affection to their ing of more brilliant and sparkling orbs; and beloved Master, after man had set his seal Mary fixed upon the face of her friend this upon the door of the sepulchre, and left him searching expression; ana Anna felt that alone to his eternal rest? she was looking at her, though their eyes did not meet. It was in vain that she tried to change the current of her thoughts. She felt that she was blushing, and she felt also, tlhat she was CHtAPTER XVIIII. 1convicted in an act of eggregious folly. At last, when she could bear it no longer, she HAD Lord Carrisbrooke thought it worth laid down her work, and exclaimed, his while to practise upon his young comrn- "Mary, you are too deep for me. You panion all the arts of fascination, of which have discovered what I was trying to conhe had once boasted himself the master, he ceal from myself; that I have really been would probably not have excited so deep a taking all this pains, to make myself look feeling of interest, as his weakness and suf- more pleasing and more ladylike, in the eyes fering had called forth; and long did the in- of a man, who is shuddering on the brink of tervening days appear to Anna before she the grave. I thank you from my heart, was again summoned to her appointed task. Mary, for your well-timed and gentle warnThe next time the artist was seated at her ing. You see I am again beset with tempeasel, Lord Carrisbrooke felt himself so much tation. It is a hard lesson that I have to better, as to be able to converse with ease learn; for no sooner is one branch of vanity and pleasure; and now to his wandering cut off, than it puts forth another; but if He and delighted auditor, he poured forth the will give me help, to whom alone belongs rich treasures of a mind, stored with almost the glory of victory, I will be worthy of your every kind of information, selected with taste friendship yet, Mary." And with this laudand judgment, from a life of constant amuse- able resolution, Anna went to her own room, ment and variety; and did not hold himself and after locking up her silk dress, cast a above the trouble of being agreeable, even in farewell glance at the mirror, before she obscurity, and to a simple country girl; for went to her morning's occupation. It was he saw that she had understanding enough only intended for one glance, but the wind to appreciate his own talents, and sensibility had been busy with hwr raven hair; and sorry to feel gratified by his endeavour to please: we are to say, that Anna looked again and to say nothing of the vanity of both, which again; for there were ringlets to arrange, formed the chain of connection between their and a pink handkerchief to adjust, so as to spirits, blending all agreeable ideas and as- give a glow to her faded complexion. sociations into one bond of sympathy. Lord Carrisbrooke had again sunk into his " Are you going to a party, Anna," said usual state of brooding melancholy, probably Mary to her friend one day, as she watched from an increase of his bodily infirmities, her, altering a beautiful silk dress, to the bringing, as they not unfrequently do, an infashion of the day. creased longing to retain a ife, of wh'ch " A party, Mary! how came you to think those who cling to it with the greatest perof such a thing? I am only making -this tinacity, often profess to be the most weary; frock more fit to paint in, for I am positively and he might besides have his own private ashamed of going to the Hall the figure I reasons for dreading his impending doom. have lately been." Anna saw at one glance that he was worse There is a look of penetration in some eyes and though she made no remark, yet she of dark grey, which is more insupportable found many excuses for altering the folds of to the object of their scrunity, than the flash- his cloak, that she might at the same time I62 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. place his cushions more comfortably, offer and rejecting again and again, the offer of him refreshments, or soothe him, with kind that hand which alone is mighty to save. words; never so touching as when whispered It was in the cheerful month of June, that near to the ear, in the sweet tones of wo- the noble invalid and the young arlist, sat manly tenderness, together at an open window, during the quiet There was something in the situation of morning hours, before the Hall was disturbed Lord Carrisbrooke deeply and painfully- by visiters, and while the dew was yet upon affecting to a sensitive mind; and it afforded the grass. For now they often found both him no small degree of gratification, to find time and inclination to converse, and Lord that Anna was affected by it. Carrisbrooke cast his melancholy eyes He had wandered through the world as a around upon the clear landscape, the blue stranger, extracting from society every thing hills, the shining river, the green slopes, and but what he most wanted;-the communion the deep shadows of the trees; but neither of a kindred soul- the pure and devoted the fair landscape, nor the scent of summer affection of a guileless and unsophisticated flowers, the hum of bees, nor the song of heart. In vain he had tried to make any merry birds, brought gladness to his soul, for lasting impression upon the feelings of wo- he was losing his firm step upon the joyous man, as he had found her, in the magic earth, and looking almost his last upon the circle of fashion, glittering in deceitful smiling flowers, and listening to the jocund charms, and decked in false smiles; and often birds, that would soon be winging their had he exclaimed, after returning to his own happy flight above his grave. chamber, "My poor Maurice loves me bet- "You will be here," said he, as if continuter than any of them." ing the mournful train of his reflections, His sister, it is true, regarded him with "You will be here when summer comes what some would call passionate fondness; again, and-I,-" He paused and looked and he knew, that when the hour of parting earnestly at Anna. Words were upon her should drawnear, she would be overwhelmed lips which might have been applicable in with anguish, and drowned in tears; but he such an hour, but she dared not utter them. knew also, that her light step would skip How did her spirit yearn to answer, "And over the church-yard before his grave was you will be in heaven!" All that woman green. can say, with eyes that shine through tears, And yet, what bond of union could possi- was written in her countenance; but she bly exist between the haughty Lord Carris- made no audible reply, and her companion brooke, and the humble Anna Clare? He, went on quoting the words of Antony, surrounded by luxury and wealth, yet sus- "Iam dying, Egypt, dying. pended but for a few brief moments above the gloomy grave; and she, a simple country " A fatal malady is preying upon my heart, maiden, apparently pursuing her homely yet I brave it out to the world, and none, but path with patient steps. Yes, there was a my faithful Maurice, knows that I endure bond betwixt them..The bond of sympathy, any other than bodily sufferinig; even he felt and acknowledged by both. Sympa- knows not the cause, but to you I will conthy of taste, and thought, and feeling; sym- fess, that when I think of launching forth pathy of high purpose, and noble sentiment; upon the boundless ocean of eternity, I feel sympathy, which no difference of rank or like a fearful child, about to enter upon a restation can subdue; sympathy in the inward glon of impenetrable darkness. yearnings of the spirit, which struggled in " In my ride the other day, I saw a poor vain to support its own existence; clinging woman sitting at the door of her cottage, in its weakness to the veriest reeds of earth, reading her Bible; and oh! how I envied THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 63 that humble creature, feasting upon what, to wealthy, and accomplished; and I am a woher, were the words of eternal truth." man, young, and poor, and unprotected." "The same book," said Anna, "is open to "And for these qualities I love you better; all; and it is the perfection of that volume, and su: ely for those, you cannot respect me that its sacred truths are equally applicable, the less!" its moral precepts equally serviceable, and f My lord, that very weakness which exits religious consolations equally available, cites your tenderness, and that dignity which to the high and the low, the rich and the awes me into respect, are incompatible with poor the happy and the miserable." the fair and equalizing nature of friendship." Lord Carrisbrooke shook his head. "My "Then call it love, if you will. It matters mother Ibrced me when a child to learn long little what name is given to an intimacy like lessons from the Bible, as a punishment ours, to be dissolved in a few brief moments; when I did wrong; and I have never been but oh! do not leave me to myself. Come able to read it since." often; sit with me till you are weary; and, " If you would but try, my Lord," said above all things, tell me how to make death Anna. less horrible. Ah! you are going again, "Will you read it to me l" replied his going to gather roses, and sit within your Lordship. And then he smiled as dying sunny bower, and listen to the birds that men have no right to smile. warble overhead, and feel the breath of sum"I would do anything," said Anna, in her mer fan your blooming cheek, and think not own guileless manner, " to make you less of the weary hours that I am spending. Inmelancholy, less desponding; and I would deed why should you? I am nothing to you, suffer anything, were it possible for me to be I can be nothing, and have no right to trouinstrumental in raising your thoughts to a ble you with my fruitless complainings." participation in those hopes, which alone are Anna held out one hand, while with the able to support the soul in its hour of mortal other she concealed her face; and wishing trial." the miserable invalid a good morning, went "lRow is this l" said Lord Carrisbrooke, her way to muse upon the various branches and while he spoke and looked earnestly at and bearings of the word " irnteresting;" a Anna, tears, burning tears, were in his eyes; word so important in the vocabulary of the and he stretched forth his thin and wasted sentimentalist, that it appears to possess the hand, and grasped her arm with something talismanic property of discovering whatever of unearthly energy. "My course through is worthy of consideration either in nature or this world has been short and eccentric; art. winning the wonder of the many, and the " How interesting 1" exclaims the enthusilove of the few. Had I not dived beneath ast, and immediately her beau ideal is clothed the shallow surface of profession, my sated in a mantle of imaginary beauty. Within vanity might have revelled in fruition; yet may be an empty void, it matters not. Vanhave I never known from my cradle until this ity or vice may lurk below, they are alike unhour one friend who cared about my soul." heeded. Misery and disappointment may " Your Lordship has been very unfortu- lie shrouded beneath, they are endured with nate I Amongst the first of earthly blessings the patience of a martyr. And why? Bewhich heaven bestowed upon me, was a cause the object is interesting, and consefaithful friend; a friend whose counsel and quently it becomes an idol. kindness have been as a light upon my path," Again-When anything earthly, or un" And will you be this friend to me?" earthly, has ireceived the fatal condemnation 1" Impossible, my lord!" of being pronounced uninteresting, how ut"Why impossible." terly hopeless and vain is every attempt to "Because you are a man, noble, and force it upon the attention of those, who have 64 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. been accustomed to look only through the hope in her countenance, and triumph n her false medium of-sickly sentiment. Unheeded, heart. unnoticed, by thenl, uninteresting philosophy " You must read it to me," said Lord Carmay labour in secret over the investigation risbrooke, "for there is something in your of truth, uninteresting charity may go forth voice that charms away my evil genius." upon her errands of mercy, uninteresting.re- So Anna opened her little volume, and sat signation may watch beside the lowly bed of down, and thought she had never been so sickness, and offer up from unfeigned lips her well employed in her whole life; but, in spite last soul-felt prayer; and what to them is of all her sanguine expectations, she could the incense of uninteresting piety, though it not help perceiving, that the thoughts of her should burn upon the altar of the heart, con- noble auditor went not along with her, at suming all that is gross and perishable, and least with her book, and that his eye never purifying the immortal spirit for a new exis- rested upon anything but her face, and tence in the regions of eternal light. when she closed the book as an experlment to try whether his attention was really fixed, hemade no remark upon it but seizing the white hand by which it was held out to him, pressed it to his lips, with every expression CHAPTER XIX. of gratitude and admiration. "It will not do," said Anna, as she warKed TiE ambition of doing good, is often the home that morning: and when she met the last effort of expiring vanity in an amiable calm countenance of her friend, she was mind, and the resolution to do good is un- more than ever convinced that she had been questionably laudable in the abstract; but wrong; her pupils too were rejoicing in their with this excellent resolution there are not prolonged holiday, and she herself was reunfrequently certain accompaniments, such turning weary and dispirited, and not a little as these; I shall make myself valuable, I disposed to be dissatisfied with all around her. shall be more beloved, my name will be ex- "This picture takes you a:long time to alted among the people; and mournful it is paint," said Mary: and Anna who was: so to observe, that the'mind of woman is pecu- conscious that it might have been completed liarly liable to fall away from its high purpose, in half the time, felt a reproof in the remark into these snares and pitfalls, which are so which it was not intended to convey. "I can placed along the christian's path, that there finish it at one more sitting," was her consois no footing to be found upon the pilgrimage lation as she went to rest that night; and of life, without its own temptations, and she did finish it, and was more than ever besetments. concinccd on the following morning, that the Possessed with these aspiring hopes, Anna work of reformation was at an end, at least Clare retired to her own chamber; and that its triumphs were not for her; that while she turned over various volumes, and Lord Carrisbrooke had been amusing himreferred to different texts of scripture, which self, and gratifying his own vanity by the inshe conceived might aid her purpose, there terest he had excited in her mind; and that not unfrequently flitted across her mind the in order to give this interest a deeper charencouraging assurance, that "he who con- acter, he had expressed all, and perhaps verteth a sinner from the error of his ways, something more, than he really thought, and shall save a'soul from death, and hide a mul- felt, at the prospect of the awful doom that titude of sins." was impending. Having fixed at last upon the conversion Oh! woman, in thy mysterious and often of Count Struensee, Anna hastened early to eventful life, thou hast many a hard lesson of the Hall on the following morning, with humility to learn; and, perhaps, none can be THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 65 more painfully instructive, than that which eye seeth thee; offer up thy earnest prayers, teaches thee, that in thy noble and generous that he who knoweth the path of the eagle desire to serve thy fellow creatures, thou in the heavens, will turn away the wanderer has been aspiring too high, Learn, then, from the error of his ways: and, seek not from the experience and the warning of oth- thou to be the instrument. Look out upon ers, learn while thy young heart is yet un- the sufferings of thy fellow creatures; diliscathed by disappointment, that thy sphere gently watch the opportunity of fulfilling of merit is a lowly one; and above all things, every duty; search the recesses of thy own go not forth upon the mighty ocean, in the soul, and see whether thy appointed task be presumptuous hope, that thou shall be able not sufficient, without aspiring higher. to pilot the stately vessel into port; let the It was some weeks after this time, at the heavy prow heave on upon the billows of solemn close of a sabbath evening, that destruction; thy feeble help cannot avail; Anna Clare sat alone and silent at the winthou canst only be drawn within the vortex, dow of her own chamber. The golden tints engulphed, and lost fbr ever. Thy little of the setting sun were fading away; the bark is made to float amongst the shoals and hum of the village was subsiding; the shepshallows of the shore, to warn the ignorant herd was folding in his sheep; the silvery of danger, to gather up the wreck, to save dew was falling; and one pale planet shone the perishing, and to comfort the forlorn. out from the clear and distant heavens. The last meeting between Lord Carris- How strange that, upon such a scene, the brooke and Anna was a painful one, through principal of evil should dare intrude I Alas! which nothing could have supported her, but for our heroine! she looked not forth with the fruits of a sorrowful experience, and a joy and thankfulness1 but tears were stream heightened sense of duty. ing from her eyes, and she was repining, "It is better, much better;" said she, as that amidst so much peace and loveliness, she walked home that morning; and yet her path must be alone; whether amongst tears were every instant starting in her eyes, flowers, or thorns. The beauty of the flowers and sometimes there seemed to be whisper- and the anguish of the thorns, must be ened in her ear, as if by a rebellious and unsub- joyed, and endured alone. dued spirit, "I was but seeking to cheer the Where now was her lately acquired sublast moments of a dying man." mission, her patience, and resignation? Unable to enter into the affairs of Mary's Selfishness and vanity, had again been conhousehold, she retired to her own chamber; tending for the empire of her heart, and she and here, upon reflection, she was confirmed was reaping the bitter fruit of their destrucin her belief that the path she had chosen tive warfare. For a short time her former was a wise and prudent one. The words, self returned, to pine, and suffer; and when "touch not, handle not," were continually re- she thought of the mysterious and highly curring to her mind. " These things are not gifted character, in whose feelings she was for thee." Will he repent at thy bidding; just beginning to hold a share, when stern who has lived to the mature age of manhood, duty warned her to withdraw, it seemed to in the habitual contempt of religion, and for- her, that she alone, of all mortal creatures, getfulness of his Creator? Will he be sub- was singled out to resign whatever was dued by thy charming, whose heart is as the most intimately connected with her heart of flinty rock! Or will thy reasoning convince hearts. him, who has exhausted the powers of an At last, her murmuring thoughts found ut. acute and penetrating mind, without having terance in words. discovered the immutable excellence of eter- "Every thing on earth has its little sphere nal truth? "Touch not, handle not," but go of enjoyment, in which it can meet and parthou into thy secret chamber, and when no ticipate with others. Coarse spirits have 17 66 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. their social intercourse. Friend meets friend, conducted her through the wilderness; who around the humble hearth. In all the affairs had borne with her spiritual idolatries, of human life,-in commerce as well as reli- who had given her a friend as a faithfu. gion, multitudes congregate together, and guide, and whom she now implored to look pursue in concert the great end of their exis- down from his habitation in the heavens, tence. The very brutes-the flocks that feed upon the weakest worm of his creation. upon yon sloping hill, enjoy the refreshing Bound by fresh ties of more than earthly dews of night together. The birds have union, the two friends had knelt together; their companions in the woods, to whom they together they rose, and the embrace with can utter a response. All the sweet flowers which they separated that night was warm of night and day, have their appointed time and pure, as in the days of their first love. for looking up in unison to heaven. The Her feeble steps recalled from their slight stars have their own bright family, shining wandering, her good resolutions confirmed through the blue expanse. Every intelligence after their short lapse, Anna Clare went onin nature has its kindred essence; but I have ward in the path of duty; for she had learnnothing I" ed to mistrust herself, and consequently to Anna's complaining ceased, ani she was shun temptation. And having found how looking out again, when the solemn sound of incompatible with true happiness is the graa passing-bell fell upon her ear-she shud- tification of vanity or ambition, she confined dered and turned within. In the twilight she her hopes and wishes, and even her laudable could just perceive that some one approach- desire to be of use, within the humble sphere ed. It was Mary, who came with the tidings in which her lot was cast. that Lord Carrisbrooke was dead. In an On the reading of Lord Carrisbrooke's will, instant, Anna was restored to her better self. it was discovered that he had bequeathed That sudden and awful sound, and the un- the sum of one thousand pounds to the artist expected appearance of her, who had so of- who painted his portrait: and with this sum ten stood beside her as a guardian angel, added to the well earned reward of her daily bringing a silent reproof, where none was labours, Anna contrived not only to mainspoken; the stillness of the hour, and the re- tain a respectable and genteel appearance, collections of the past, all mingling together, but often to comfort the distressed, and might have overpowered a spirit more har- supply the wants of the needy. dened and perverse than Anna's. Gentle reader, forgive the writer of this " Mary," said she, laying her hand upon story, that she has no better fate in store for the arm of her friend, "there is one duty her heroine, even in the season of " the first which we have never, since the days of our grey hair," than that of a respected and reinfancy, performed together, except in pu'lic. spectable old maid; not a fretful, fuming Let us kneel down in this quiet chamber, and thing, of false ringlets, and false smiles, but enter into a fresh covenant with our Heavenly a woman of delicate and tender feeling, of Father, that we will drink of the cup which he calm dignity, and unbounded benevolence, has poured out for us, even though it should who mourned no longer that earth afforded be gall and bitterness. That we will walk her no object, or rather no idol, on which she in the path which he has pointed out, though might lavish the warm feelings of an affecit should pierce our feet with thorns; and tionate heart; for she had learned to pour that we will never turn away, nor be unfaith- forth into a thousand channels, " that charity ful to his service, though we know that it re- which suffereth long and is kind." quires us to give up all and follow him)" Alas! to the rescue of Anna Clare, from And then, from her eloquent lips, and over- the shades of vulgar oblivion, there came no flowing heart, she poured forth her gratitude belted knight, no steel-clad warrior; no prince and praise to that Being who had thus far in disguise discovered her to be the alien THE HALL AND THE COTTAGE. 67 daughter of his house; nor did a superan- she could still look around her with delight nuated nabob make her the heiress of an In- on the charms of nature, the world was no dian fortune; but she continued to dwell in longer a mere picture, admired only for the the home of her friend, harmony of its colouring, and the grouping of its different objects; but for the harmony " Happy and giving happiness;" of its creation and government, and the and though highly gifted with those qualities, mysterious and admirable adjustment of its which might reasonably attract the attention different parts, beneath the wonder-working of the wealthy and the noble, she never yen- hand of the great Artificer. And she could tured beyond her own lowly sphere, but was still pause to look at the village spire, but content to remain, where she had not only it was not merely to observe how beautifully the wish, but the power to bless. That en- it arose from the masses of dark foliage, and thusiasm which had given wayward wings pierced the azure sky; it was to meditate to her inexperienced fancy, became tempered upon the privileges of living in a christian by religion, into energy and hope; energy, land, where the people of Christ may rest that shrank not from the humblest, as well under the banner of his love, to hear his dias the most arduous duties; and hope that vine precepts, and to offer up their prayers burned brighter and brighter, to the close of together; and if there still were times when a useful and well spent life. Nor were the she was rapt in admiration at the splendour tastes and the enjoyments of her early years of the setting sun, it was with a hallowed extinguished, but properly directed and re- feeling of thankfulness for that resplendent strained; for Anna Clare could still wander sign of daily assurance, that he who holds forth on dewy evenings, even when her our being in his hands, departs not fromhis cheek had lost its bloom; but her wanderings own wise and merciful design, in which the now more frequently terminated in errands " heavens declare the glory of God, and the of kindness to her humble friends, and though firmament showeth his handy work." ELLEN ESKDALE. GONE from her cheek, is the summer bloom1 And her breath has lost its faint perfume, And the gloss has dropp'd from her golden hairt And her cheek is pale but no longer fair. And the spirit that sate on her soft blue eye, Is struck with cold mortality; And the smile that play'd on her lip has fled, And every charm hath now left the dead. Like slaves they obey'd her in height of power, But left her all in her wintry hour; And the crowds that swore for her love to die, Shrunk from the tone of her last faint sigh, And this is man's fidelity! BARRY CORNWALL. CHAPTER I. a highly respectable gentleman, his lady, and three daughters. To describe them WILL my young friends forgive me, if, individually would be a waste of words and under the character of a fictitious story, I patience, they were so much like half the should in reality preach them a sermon; people one meets and visits with. One and that on the gravest of all possible sub- thing, however, ought to be remarked about jects-on the subject of death? this family, though by no means peculiar We learn, from an immense number of to them, that, while living in a populous city, the publications of the present day, how where the loud death bell was often heard the righteous pass away from works to re- to toll, and where as often a solemn funeral wards; and, from the public papers, how the was seen to pass along the streets; yet, for murderer and the malefactor expire on the themselves, they never thought of death. scaffold; but there is an extent of interme- It is true they had been made acquainted diate space filled up by those of whose with some instances of fatality within their fate we know comparatively nothing; those own sphere of observation; for once their who act, unheeded, their little part upon white muslin dresses came home from the the stage of life, then die, and are forgotten. washerwoman's uncrimped, because, as she It is from this class of beings that I have said, her youngest daughter then lay a corpse selected the individual who is to furnish to in the house; and their old fbotman Thomas the attentive reader food for serious reflec- Bell, died in the workhouse the day before tion during the perusal of a few dull pages, the five shillings which they sent him in order that we may lift the veil by which reached his necessities. And, in high life, the moral secrets of the fashionable and too) had they not known it? Had they not well bred may be concealed from vulgar all worn fashionable mourning for their observation, and see for once how an amia- most revered monarch, King George the ble and very beautiful young lady may die. Third? And had they not lost a maiden There lived in a certain large city, a fa- aunt? And were not the fountains of their mily of the name of Eskdale, consisting of grief staid by a legacy of six thousand ELLEN ESKDALE. 69 pounds? Yes,-they remembered all these fined from the dross of nature; for her wild things, and yet they looked upon death only and merry laugh was sometimes heard as a frightful and far-off monster, whp might resounding through the rooms, to the never come to them; so they lighted up dismay of her mother, and the astonishment their drawing-room, and let down the rich of her guests; as the bird that has been damask curtains, and drew in the card-ta- taught to sing in measured notes, will somebles, and never thought of death. Perhaps times return to his own sweet melody, telling one reason might be, they had never known of woods, and streams and mountains, and sickness. It is true the mother sometimes breathing forth the inward yearnings of that presented, at the breakfast-table, a counte- spirit, which it is impossible for art to subnance pale and cloudy as a morning in No- due. vember, but the evening party always found he adorned with ready smiles, and new made olushes:-smiles that betrayed no meaning, and blushes that told no tale but CHAPTER II one. Ellen Eskdale, the youngest of the three COULD the bright eye, the blooming fair sisters, was at this time, making her first cheek, or the polished forehead-could all, appearance in the fashionable world. She or any of the attributes of beauty, support had grown prodigiously during her last year us in the hour of trial, or cheer us on the at school, and now, though a little in danger bed of sickness, they would then be worth of becoming too stout, was as lovely a young cherishing, and mourning for; but there creature, both in form and face, as you could must be something else, my young friends, well behold. to render the pilgrimage of life a path of "A little in danger of growing too stout," pleasantness and peace. Rich as you may has a very serious sound to a young lady, be, the grave has closed over the possessor and yet it was much whispered among El- of greater wealth than yours. Fair as you len's friends, that in a few years she would may be, the worm has fed upon a cheek as be monstrous. The gentlemen thought lovely. Young as you may be, death has otherwise, and swore it was all envy, for laid his icy hand upon those who have not they could not see a fault in Ellen numbered half your years. But, as this is Eskdale, and perhaps she did not see not the style of preaching which I have the many in herself; for she had ears to hear talent, or you the patience to pursue, we all that love and flattery could offer, and will, if you please, return again to the family eyes to see, when gazing in the tall mirror, of the Eskdales; not as they first beheld that love had hardly been too partial, or them, but after a summer had passed away; flattery too profuse. Though trained, and and the assemblies, the concerts, the plays, pushed, and bribed forward, in all the ac- and the parties of another winter had comcomplishments of the age, Ellen's chief ex- menced. cellence was in music; and never did she Ellen was still the centre of attraction, look more beautiful than when her light and and still she was not whclly sophisticated, ivory fingers touched the harp; for then a but would sometimes look, and speak, as if rich mass of sunny hair fell over her cheek at the bottom of her heart there were left and forehead, often thrown back with girlish some latent feeling, that struggled to be free carelessness, when she forgot herself in any from the yoke of fashion-that rose in fruitof her favourite airs. She had been well less efforts to assert itself no longer the slave, taught, and her parents had paid dearly for but the minister of pleasure. the loss of a fine girl, and the substitution of These ebullitions of feeling, however, a fine lady; but yet she was not wholly re- came like angel visits; and when they did 70 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. come, they were so faint, so ill-defined, and their entertainment, which they had never generally so mixed up with various and con- heard of before; taking this precaution, in tending emotions, that no one knew from every thing she introduced, that her own whence they flowed. whether from heaven, or should be a brilliant and striking part. In earth; no-notevenithefair possessor herself; case of a failure, she never sat down with an only theladieswonderedatthose times how so air of despondency, but immediately took up young a girl could venture to talk sentiment; some other plan to cover her defeat, so that still more how she could make it answer, the company were sure to go away well sawhen they had so long- talked it in vain; tisfied at last. and, at the same time, the gentlemen would In this manner the gay evening parties begin to doubt whether they might not do came and went; and who was happier than worse than make serious proposals to Ellen Ellen Eskdale? Eskdale. Of all the young gentlemen who flocked Miss Eskdale, the oldest sister, had been to her father's house, there was none more striving for the last five years, to attain that constant in his visits, more attractive in his footing in society, which had been awarded person, or more pointed in attentions, than to Ellen, apparently without any effort of Harry Wentworth, a young man of enviable her own. In loveliness, her own face would fortune, just whiling away the winter months, not stand the test of a comparison with her before commencing his travels on the Consister's; and in accomplishments she was far tinent. behind her; so taking to herself another It was, for a long time, matter of doubt standing, or rather, hanging her orb in ano- with the two elder sisters, which of the three ther sphere, she determined that their rays could possibly be the object of attraction, should never intercept each other, and hav- but the whole secret had been revealed to ing failed to be a beauty, Miss Eskdale be- Ellen during a long moonlight walk by the came a blue; and corresponded with (at least side of the river, late in the autumn, when a wrote to) great authors, and patronized poor party of pleasure had been formed to visit ones, and held in her charmed possession the ruins of a castle, situated some miles up the first manuscript copies of half the the stream. Ellen had always been afraid bright effusions that annually come forth, to of water, and Wentworth was happy to be delight or disappoint the expectant winter her escort on the shore. The dew was fallcircle. ing heavily, the grass was thick and long, Of the second sister it could not well be and Ellen found a more dangerous enemy said that she had ever been guilty of any than she had feared; for she dated from this aim at all, and, therefore, feeling no loss in night the commencement of a quick and her sister's gain, she would often kindly, frequent cough, which was at times, exceedand almost affectionately, fall in with her ingly troublesome. But it was surprising wild fancies, when Ellen's exuberance of how little she thought or cared about the spirits exacted from others a somewhat un- cough; for, on this night, her lover had dereasonable submission to her own whims dared himself, and though she had insisted and follies; for Ellen was not merely a that nothing should be said on the subject, beauty, she possessed a ready invention, and as she was quite too young to think seriousversatility of talent, which, added to her ly of such a thing, she had kindly promised natural good humour, and buoyancy of that she would try to think of it; and there mind, gave an air of freshness and original- is every reason to believe that it did really ity to whatever she said or did. Her path cacur to her thoughts almost as often as was not the beaten track of custom; she her lover himself could desire. There was delighted in eccentricities, and charmed her such unspeakable satisfaction in knowing mother's guests by a thousand schemes for that the very man, whom her sisters were ELLEN ESKDALE. 71 trying every art to fascinate, was secretly and Ellen's, as soon as her performance was surely devoted to her. He was so handsome ended, to divert the earnest attention of the too-so gay-so fearless-so playful in his company by some playful sally, quite irreledisposition-and in every thing so much like vant to the subject, or else to escape at once herself-Oh! it was worth all the world to into obscurity; and, on this occasion, as on hear the whispers of HIary Wentworth, many former ones, she succeeded in finding when he tried amongst the crowd, to catch a vacant seat beside Harry Wentworth, who her attention for a moment, while she would seldom joined the herd of admirers, to worpass on with affected carelessness, not un- ship the star of the multitude, but delighted frequently returning to assure herself of the to see that star direct its partial rays to him. reality. THE SPIRIT OF JOY. DAUGHTER of sor w, weeping and sad, Cast the dark weeds from thy brow; CHAPTER III Come with the spirit of joy and be glad,HAPTER III. Come from the fountains of woe. " WHAT is all this harangue about?" said I'll ear thee away on a sunbeam so bright I'll hear thee away on a sunbeam so bright she to her lover, after they had listened, for I'll deck thee With flowers so gay, I'll bathe thee in oceans of liquid ligh a few moments, to a little party of grave And chase all thy tears away. personages, gathered round Miss Eskdale. For I come from the mountain, the heath, and the dell, "Your sister," replied he, "is edifying I come with the hunter's wild horn, her friends on the subject of suicide; she is I have bid the grim deserts of darkness farewell, telling them the nature of different poisons, And I dance on the clouds of the morn and what is the readiest mode of quitting the I live in the sunshine of summer's bright hours, I sport on the butterfly's wing, All mine are the treasures of April's glad showers, " Oh! that does not concern me," said And mine the rich odours of spring. Ellen, "for I shall never be tired of living; I spurn at the temple, the tower, and the dome, shall you, Harry 3" I laugh at the labours of man; Not if you will promisseto live with me." Far, far, in the blue sunny sky is my home, "Now tell me the truth for once," said And my realm is the rainbow's wide span for she, looking up into his face,-" the truth, and These words, with an exquisite accompa- nothing but the truth; for, mind you, I have niment, Ellen had been singing to a crowded a charm by which I know a falsehood, and audience, with so much spirit and anima- you have told me a great many of late; tell tion, that she seemed herself to personify the me then, truly, whether you could live withideal being of whom she sung. Before her out mel?" light fingers touched the harp, she had Wentworth paused for a moment, and cleared her white forehead and sparkling then coolly answered-" I think I could." eyes from the shadow of rich curls that veil- Ellen had been gazing on his face with ed, without concealing, her beauty: and now the sweet confidence of a child, and, perhaps the colour of her cheek was deepened by a it was the steady look of her clear and cloudblush of varying emotions, in which were less eyes which, somehow or other, had immingled and combined some of the most pelled him, almost unconsciously, to speak powerful feelings that are wont to agitate what she had demanded, the whole truth; the breast of woman; the shame of attract- which he did at once, boldly, and thought ing every eye, the triumph of conscious no more about it; but, had he been a nice power, and, mightest and most prevailing, observer of woman's character, he would the wild fervour of the enthusiast. have seen that the ready smile of expectaIt was a habit some people said, a trick of tion had passed away from Ellen's lips, 72 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. that the blush had faded from her cheek,- about her eyes, that might well have startled and that though she instantly took up a new the fears of a more anxious and experienced print, and began to expatiate upon its beau- parent; and her mother did at last begin to ties with rapturous enthusiasm, she bent think something must be the matter; for down her head lower than was necessary, Ellen could not sing as she was wont; the that her thick falling ringlets might conceal highest tones of her voice were almost enher altered countenance, while she wiped tirely gone, and she seldom got through a fiom her eye the first tear that Harry Went- piece of music without a violent fit of coughworth had ever made her shed. ing. It might be that he did not know the de- "Poor girl! she has quite outgrown her gree of feeling of which Ellen was capable; strength," said the mother; "she must have or that, in his own heart there was no such tonics." So Ellen tried tonics, and her deep and hidden fountain; for he never cough was worse than ever; but it was not dreamed that he had given pain, and would before she was obliged to give up dancing almost rather have wept himself, than that too, that the family had recourse to medical eyes so beautiful should have been dimmed advice. with tears. It was, however, but a light and "A slight pulmonary affection," said the passing cloud, and those eyes again beamed doctor; and he rubbed his hands, for he saw forth in all their wonted brightness; music before him a good winter's work. and dancing drowned the evening in noise Some persons, on looking back, would have and confusion, and all was sunshine and been alarmed to see how much had been glad summer beneath the roof of Mr. Esk- given up during the last few weeks; but Eldale, in spite of the wintry blasts that howled len only laughed, and told Wentworth she without. was growing quite a saint; and that after "What can be the matter with Ellen Christimas, she would put on a plain cap, Eskdale?" said a lady to her companion, and go and sit with sister Cartwright, at her one evening, as they returned home from the class-meetings. play " All could have been borne; her bad nights, "Oh, in love, to be sure," was the reply; her cough, her weakness,-and all borne for her companion was a gentleman. cheerfully, but now the ill-natured old doctor " She need not pine away for that," said forbad her going out, except in the middle the lady, " for Wentworth seems as much in of the day, and when the weather was mildlove as she does. She must be ill; that cold est. Her evenings must be spent at home, of hers lasts so long. Did you not observe, quietly, and without any excitement. If the the other day, at Mrs. Beverley's, how she family would stay with her, and Harry Wentleaned upon the harp, and how dreadfully worth, and two or three others would come, worn-out she looked after the first dance?" it might be endured; but sometimes she was " As for the leaning upon the harp," re- left entirely alone: and, worst of all, had run plied he of the charitable sex, "it was to through the last volume of the last novel beshow off her figure; and young ladies al- fore they returned. On Sunday, however, ways look languid, when they can, to excite she had them all safely enough, and Wentinterest." worth too, and a merry evening they manag" Well, continued the lady, these beauties ed to pass together; for they had everybody never last. I wish poor Mrs. Eskdale may to describe, and to mimic; and when Ellen not lose her daughter yet." had their follies second-hand, t was almost It was true enough: Ellen was now often as entertaining as if she had seen them herso weary that she could hardly walk up self. But even these amusements began to stairs, when the family retired to rest; and pall upon her; and sometimes, when they in the morning there was a cold glassy look looked round for her ready laugh, she had ELLEN ESKDALE. 73 turned away her face, and was quite unable ton, to pace slowly to and fro in her room, castto laugh at all. ing many a wistful glance at the dull window, Oh, the emptiness of folly, when mortal that looked out upon a square of formal garsickness falls upon the heart! den, where the shrubs were matted up, and It was at the close of one of these sabbath here and there a wasted drift of dirty snow evenings, when her sister and Wentworth told of a chilly and humid atmosphere, with had been unusually animated, that Ellen sud- all its melancholy accompaniments. Ellen denly burst into tears, and left the room. gazed, and gazed, till she was wearied out; " What is the matter with that silly girl?" and then she turned within, and opened her said Miss Eskdale; " she grows so fretful, box of trinkets, which had pleased her so ofthere is no such thing as pleasing her." ten; but now they failed in producing any "No," said her sister Mary, " you should other effect than a slight touch of painnot say so; Ellen was never fretful, but her it might be a faint apprehension that what spirits are so weak now, that the least thing had been would never be again, which had overpowers her," and so saying, Mary fol- well nigh brought the tears into her eyes; so lowed her up stairs. she asked Marston for her music, but music, It was well that she did; for the poor girl without either voice or instrument, is the dullhaving at last given full vent to her feelings, est thing in the world, and this failed her in a violent fit of hysterics, the rupture of a too. What could she do? Swallow her blood-vessel was the natural and fearful con- sleeping draught two hours before the time, sequence. and beg of Marston to assist her into bed, From this time Ellen never spent the night for she was weary of herself and every thing alone: Marston, a middle-aged woman, who beside. had been in the family for many years, had In a few days, however, Ellen had so far a bed placed beside her, and she was redu- recovered as to regain the wonted tone of ced to the necessity of being in all respects her mind, and with this transient and deluan invalid. sive convalescence, came busy thoughts of Still there seemed to be no immediate that world in which she had been so bright danger. It was a case which needed care a star-that ungrateful world, that never and quiet. Marston was an excellent nurse, missed nor mourned her waning light. and the kindest creature in the world; so As soon as her strength would permit, she there was no need to sit much with Ellen, es- anrsed herself with looking through her pecially as the dear girl was not allowed to wardrobe. One by one, her rich dresses converse; and thus she was left hour after were unfolded; the dressmaker was called hour, to muse in solitude; for those who in, to alter them to her present shape, and were nearest and dearest to her, knew not ah! it was like a mockery of the grave, to that love that will steal into the darkened see her tall thin figure, decked out in the chamber, and watch by the bed-side of a be- vestments of fashion, and fblly, and to hear loved object, not only enduring, but choosing her difficult and laborious breathings, and the that faithful vigil, before all the pleasures of short quick cough that perpetually interruptthe world-that soul-felt and expressive still- ed her directions, as she told how the trimness, when affection, like the evening dew, mings, the fullness, and the fblds, were to be sh2ds her silent influence on the drooping so placed, as to conceal the alteration in her soul. wasted person. There was no immediate danger:-Ellen's Oh! it needs religion to wean us from the excellent constitution rallied again, and she things of earth! was able, once more, with the help of Mars 74 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. CHAPTER IV. me; but come, sit down, and be as happy as you can, and tell me all that you have seen THERE is nothing like a return to the do- and heard since we last met; but do not mestic scenes, and pursuits of a family, for make me laugh, for I have a wretched feelgiving spirits to an invalid; and Ellen, when ing here," (laying her hand upon her breast,) released from the prison of her own room, "and laughing hurts me worse than anyreally fancied she was gaining strength. thing;" so they sat down together, and fixed With her returning spirits, the hopes of the their eyes upon the fire, and were both silent family returned, and with their hopes, the for a long time. longing to be again in the world, just to tell "Did you ever see any one in a consumpLady B. that dear Ellen was recovering; tion." was the first question which Ellen and then the party at Sir Robert Long's, asked; and her lover started, for he had been could they refuse that, now that Pa and Sir thinking of the very same thing. Robert had had a difference about their "No, I never did, and hope I never shall; game; it would look as if the ladies of the your illness is not consumption, dear Ellen; family wished to keep it up-no, they must it is not, it shall not be." go, and not one of them only, but all. Mar- " Then what can be the meaning of all this ston would sit with Ellen; so they dressed fever; and why cannot I get rid of this horthemselves, and kissed her very kindly, and rid cough; I strive against it, indeed I do; left her; and she sat for a long time listen- and sometimes I think it is all fancy, I feel so ing to the sound of the carriages, as they well; but oh! Harry Wentworth, if it should rolled along the street, each conveying its be!" And she fixed her eyes upon him, with rich freight to the door of the wealthy Baro- such an expression of wild and convulsive net. agony, that he almost shrank away. It so happened, on that day, that Went- Wentworth was not entirely a stranger to worth had not been invited, and hearing that the thought of death, but he had only thought his mistress was again visible, and having of dying as a man, or a soldier, in the cause nothing else to do, he went and knocked at of honour, ol on the field of battle; the certhat busy door, that was for ever turning on tain symptoms of a lingering and fatal malaits hinges. Oh, how well did Ellen know dy had never before been present to his obhis step, as he lightly skipped up the stairs! servation; and now, when he looked upon she tried to meet him at the door of the the being he had regarded as least mortal, drawing room: but her breath failed her, and met the glaring of the hollow eye, and and she could only look a welcome kinder saw the falling away of the fair cheek, the than words. wasting of the once rounded lips, and felt the When her lover first beheld her, he started earnest pressure of the thin and feverish back; for there is a disease which makes hand, his spirits failed within him; for it was rapid inroads upon beauty, in the course of a beyond what his imagination had ever picfew days, without the sufferer being aware tured, what his fortitude was able to endure, of any change; but he soon recovered him- and he felt that he had no consolation to of-: self, and began to apologize for his long ab- fer in such an hour as this. sence, by a thousand excuses, which Ellen It is true he loved her-but how? Not as often interrupted by her exclamations of a fellow-pilgrim through a vale of tears, jourpleasure, that he had come at last, and so neying on towards a better land:-not as a opportunely. creature of high hopes and capabilities, "I began to think that you would never whose talents are to be matured, and whose come again, it is so long sipce you have been good feelings strengthened into principle. here. Oh, I am so glad to see you, it is so He loved her as man too often loves woman, dull shut up here alone, when they all leave for the sake of her bright eyes, her shining ELLEN ESKDALE. 75 hair, and the symmetry of a graceful and such is the deceitful nature of this disease, elastic figure. He loved her as a fair and that she did not feel at all certain it would charmed creature, who was to be exclusively terminate in death. Her physician was the his own-to minister to his gratification, to only person who thought of revealing the soothe him when weary, and to supply fresh awful truth, and a consultation was held on stimulus to his tastes, when sated with frui- the subject, to consider whether it should be tion. How then should he find consolation done, and how. for such an hour as this! He could only "It may be right," said one, " but I could fold to his bosom this frail and fading beauty not tell her for the world;" and another, and — kiss off the falling tears-and tell her, that another, excused herself, until, at last, the lot she would not, could not die. fell upon the physician, a man who had neiOh! it needs religion to reconcile us to the ther wife nor child, nor knew any thing of thought of death! the sensibilities of woman's heart; so he After this distressing interview, Went- took up his cane, and went straight into the worth had no disposition to come again; sick-room, and sat down by the bed-side. and, if he had, it would probably have been " It has been thought right, ma'am," said in vain, for the poor invalid was very soon he, and he cleared his voice; " it has been confined to her own room, and strictly forbid thought right, by your family, to depute me to see any one, except her own family, who to be the bearer of unwelcome information;" now were all sufficiently concerned at the and he paused again, for Ellen turned away sad change, and would probably have made her head. "I doubt not, ma'am, you underany sacrifice of their wonted amusements to stand my meaning; —all has been done that save her. medical skill affords, but there are diseases, Mrs. Eskdale was by no means an unfeel- which baffle the art of the physician; someing woman, though her fears had been late thing, however, may yet be done to alleviate in taking alarm; but now she felt, in its full suffering; and allow me to assure you force, how much dearer to her was the life ma'am, that nothing shall be omitted on my of her child, than all her wealth, her rich fur- part. niture, and her fashionable guests. Ellen gave no sign of intelligence, either But what could she do? The ablest phy- by word or motion. She had by this time sicians were consulted, and there was no buried her face in the pillow, so that, if he hope;-her child must die! Regardless of had said more, she would not have heard it; the wonted placidity of her countenance, she and the physician, with the satisfaction of wandered from one stately room to another, having discharged his duty, rose, and graveby habit adjusting all the little ornaments ly and quietly took his leave. which had been misplaced, without knowing Indeed, every one in the house seemed to what she did; and often both she and her think they were doing their duty. Pills daughter stole, on tiptoe, into the sick-room, were compounded, physicians were fee'd, asking the inexhaustible question, did Ellen parties were given up, bells were muffled, want anything; but never staying long be- and knockers wrapped in leather,-what side her, for the stillness was intolerable to more could they do? Nurses were hired, them, and they knew not what to say,-Mar- receipts were borrowed, and fruits of every ston was an excellent nurse, and Ellen want- description were purchased at any cost,ed nothing. Poor child! she wanted that they could do nothing more! and still the best of friends, a friend who will kindly and poor girl lay stretched upon her uneasy bed, candidly tell her the truth; for though she her face turned towards the pillow to hide knew that she was daily giving up one thing the profuse perspiration that stood in pearly after another, and gradually losing ground, drops upon her forehead, and the still more 76 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. copious flow of burning tears, which gave "Warm weather! how you talk woman! some evidence to the beholder of the uncon- it is now the depth of winter, and the spring trollable agony within. cannot come for months yet; but oh! I dare They could, indeed, do nothing more; for not think about the spring; and she fell into death had set his seal upon that beautiful a long fit of childish weeping, partly the form, and she was sinking into the fathom- effect of the opiate she had taken. " Marsless depths of eternity-passing away, in ton," said she, as soon as she regained some the pride and the promise of her youth, from degree of self-command, "I wish you would all its glory, and from all its exquisite enjoy- tell Mr. Wentworth what the doctor thinks; ments; while those who had cherished her but stay, give me paper, I will write;-no, I infancy, and exulted in her ripened years; cannot guide the pen; do steal out, and ask who knew that they were rearing an immor- to see him yourself, and tell him he must tal fabric to stand for ever, a witness of their come once again. I will send for him when faithfulness or their neglect, looked upon' I am at the best, for I would not for the their miserable child, and wrung their help- world distress him, poor fellow." So, one less hands, and mingled their melancholy evening, when she felt able to bear it, he was wailings with hers; but no one pointed out sent for and came with Marston into the a ray of hope, or spoke one word of comfort, room where Ellen lay, stretched out upon a or even thought of the blessed Saviour, who sofa, which had been placed beside the fire walked upon the troubled waters in the ma- fobr her accommodation, when weary of her jesty of his benignant love. Trembling, fear- bed. ful, hopeless, she was about to be pushed off Poor girl! she had felt strong enough befrom the frail bark of mortality; and where fore her lover came, but now, when he walknow were all the energies of that strong and ed silently up to her, and affectionately took buoyant heart l Hope, that burns brightest her hand,-but most of all, when she heard in the youthful bosom-hope, that too often again the well-remembered tones of his rich deceives us in the intricate wilderness of and manly voice, it seemed as if the ties that life, but is ever ready to stand forth in un- bound her to the world were drawn about deniable reality on the brink of the grave- her with fresh power, and in that moment, where was Ellen's hope? Weeping over she tasted the full bitterness of death. the ruins of her own "fantastic realm," and Wentworth asked a few kind questions, faith, her sober sister, came not in that hour and that was all, for he had not a single of need,-and why? because she had been word of comfort to offer, and there was a sought only to give stability to idle profes- choaking in his throat, which almost forbade sions, and vain promises, and giddy smiles, him to say anything. and had never been solicited to preside over Ellen all the while lay still and motionher own peculiar province, the life, the duties, less; she did not raise her eyes, nor speak and the death-bed of the Christian. one word; yet the lids were not so closely The medicine, which was sent that after- shut, but that one big tear after another noon, soothed the patient into a long slum- stole from beneath the long silken lashes, ber, from which she awoke considerably re- and wandered unheeded down her hollow freshed, and sat up, as usual, during part of cheek, where a single bright spot of burning the evening; indeed she felt so well as at- crimson told its fearful tale. most to question the doctor's infallibility, and It is impossible to say how long this paincould not help asking Marston if she thought ful silence might have lasted, had not the there was really no hope. door opened, and Marston beckoned Went"Oh! yes ma'am, a great deal of hope worth out. when the warm weather comes. "You will be so good as to remember, ELLEN ESKDALE. 77 Sir, " said she, " that I have strict orders not CHAPTER V. to admit any one, I should, therefore, thank you to leave us as soon as possible." IN a few days the public papers announced When Wentworth returned, he gent.y tie death of Ellen, youngest daughter of took up Ellen's long, thin hand, that lay Charles Eskdale, Esq., and all the ceremony stretched out as pure, and almost as lifeless of preparation for the deepest grief went on as marble, and said, in a quiet voice, that he in the still busy family. feared it was time for him to leave her. On the sixth day after this melancholy Then, and not till then, she raised her eyes, event, Wentworth found himself to his and looked full into his face.. great surprise, still thinking of Ellen. It There is an expression in the eye that is was true and faithful, and looked well not lighted up by the fever of consumption, to forget her; but to bear about with him which those who have not seen it never can continually the remembrance of her loveliimagine, and which those who have seen it ness and his own loss, was a weakness of never can forget. It was in vain that the which he had not conceived himself capa-. poor sufferer struggled to speak. Her lips ble; so he filled another bumper of chamquivered, but she had no words to exypess paign, and determined to be wiser. He the. anguish of her soul. WentworthtIooped had that day dined alone at his own table, down, that his ear might catch the sound, if and now sat gazing, without a wish, at the there were any, and with thekand that was rich dessert that was spread before himdisengaged, she raised frimn his brow the not only without a wish, but without a dethick curls of raven hair, and then gently finite idea, for he drank deeply, with a detercircling his neck with her slender arm, drew mination to drown reflection, and now the him still nearer, and pressed upon his fore- lights were dancing before him with a dizzy head her farewell kiss; saying at the same glare, and half-imagined images flitted by, time, in a low whisper, " It is the last!" in quick succession, amongst which the pale And this was all; and he, who had so and lifeless form of Ellen returned too often, loved her in this world, parted with her on until at last, by one of' those unaccountable the brink of another; left her at the gates operations of the human mind, by which we of death, without one word about eternity sometimes feel impelled to do that which is to cheer her on her awful way. most revolting to our feelings, he started Here let us draw a veil over the closing from his seat, and determined that he would scene. He to whom time has no limits-to go and look upon the dead body. This rewhom opportunity gives no advantage-to solution, once formed, was soon acted upon, whom all things are possible, is, doubtless, for he had neither power nor patience to able to carry on his own work of prepara- think, and in a few minutes he entered tion in the soul, even when the sufferer dies the hall of Mr. Eskdale, and called for and makes no sign. Marston. It is the task of the writer to describe, as She came, and neither of them spoke, for well as feeble powers are able to describe, Wentworth pointed to the stairs, and the the external evidence of that struggle, which woman, taking up a tall candle, walked simust naturally attend the dissolution of the lently before him, until they stopped at the earthly tenement, to those who have not en- door of what was once Ellen's chamber. sured a place in any higher habitation. The door was locked, and Marston tried to The heart alone knoweth its own bitter- turn the key without making any noise, as if ness, and the heart alone beareth witness, afraid to wake the slumberer within. They with anguish unutterable, to that which is in entered-four wax:andles that stood buflnreality the sting of death —the victory of ing night and day, two at each end of the the grave. coffin, gave a pale and solemn light to the 78 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. chilly aspect of the room. Over the coffin tensity of feeling. He had pictured to himthere had been carefully drawn a cover of self, before he came, the eye, the lips, the white muslin, which Marston slowly folded forehead, the whole countenance; but the down as soon as Wentworth drew near; and solid marble feeling, the cold resistance of he stood gazing on the lifeless figure, with that cheek, whose yielding softness he had the bewildered astonishment of one who has known so well, was what no one had ever but a partial apprehension of some great described to him, what he had never dreamand awful calamity. ed of. The soft tresses of silky hair that were That chilling touch had, in one instant, diswont to wave and glitter in the light, agi- persed all his. imaginary fortitude, and he tated by the quick and playful movements stood beside the coffin, pale as its own lifeof her who was so proud to wear them, less occupant; weak and trembling as a were now combed out and laid in bands child. At length, with uncertain steps, he upon the forehead, as smooth and close as gained the door; and though Marston tried if no breath or motion had ever stirred to make him understand that the funeral them. The eyes from which the very soul would take place on the following day, he of merriment had once beamed forth, were neither heard nor tried to hear, but hurried now for ever folded under their snowy lids, down the stairs, and through the hall, withand the long lashes fell with a deep shadow out any other member of the household on the cheek-the hollow cheek for which knowing he had been there. health and youth, and beauty had once con- How dark and dreary was that long night tended, as for a treasure that was peculiarly to Harry Wentworth. Sleep came not to their own-and then the mouth-where now draw her misty curtain between him and the was the exquisite play of the lips, that distressing realities of' life-the still more would puzzle the beholder with such rapid terrible realities of death. if for one moment expression of mingled emotions-of pride- he closed his eyes in forgetfulness, the next of laughter-of contempt-until all were they were wide open, vainly endeavoring to lost in a smile, so beaming with the best af- pierce into the abyss of darkness; and whenfections of the soul, that those who felt its ever he turned his face towards the vacant sweetness were apt to fbrget every thing be- pillow, his distempered imagination presentside? Those lips were now drawn out into ed a long white figure, stretched beside him, long purple lines, between which the white with Ellen's eyes, just as he had seen them,teeth were visible, and the chin, and the in their last interview, fixed full upon his nose, too, had become so pointed and promi- countenance, while every time his hand nent, that those who had well known Ellen touched the cold bed-clothes, the rememEskdale might now have looked upon, with- brance of that icy cheek came back to him, out recognizing, her face. And yet, in bringing its own deathly chillness to his spite of all these fearful changes, there was bursting heart. beauty still-that beauty which every heart How was the strong man brought low, and can feel, but which no words can describe- his boasted power subdued, beneath the the beauty of eternal stillness —the beauty mastery of ungovernable feeling. It was of death!. not altogether fear that held him in subjecWentworth gazed, and gazed, and neither tion-still less was it sorrow-but a terrible he nor his companion spoke one word, until warfare of all that can agitate the soul, at last he lifted his rosy fingers, warm with heightened it may be at times, (for who ean the circling blood of life, and touched the fathom the depths of the human heart,) by a cheek! The chill of horror that instantly fearful looking-for of judgment, ran through his veins, brought back his At five o'clock on the following mornmg, scattered senses, to suffer with redoubled in- the household of Harry Wentworth were ELLEN ESKDALE. 79 alarmed by the ringing of their master's Thus passed those hours of boisterous hibell. larity, and forgetfulness of care. But mo-': It must be as I thought," said the old ments of enjoyment must have a crisis, and house-keeper, " he is breaking his heart for mornings of felicity an afternoon. that dear young lady," —and recollecting the Wentworth staid long upon the field, for efficacy of hartshorn in many former cases) there were the different properties of diffierwhen her own heart was broken, and well ent animals to discuss; bets to decide, and a knowing that neither her master nor John world of business to be gone through; so that would be able to find the nostrum, she took when he turned his horse's head to the road up the light, kept always burning in her leading towards the city, the darkness and room, and proceeded to the landing of the haze of a dull afternoon, in the early part of stairs, where she could distinctly hear the February, was already beginning to render conversation which took place between the distant objects misty and undefined. master and his man. It so happened, that all the gentlemen' Sir," said John " the roan has never whose destination was the same, had preeaten a handful of corn since the trotting ceded him by some hours, so that he was match on Weston common." left to pursue his solitary way, and ruminate "Then take Ronald: I don't care which, in silence on the dregs of excitement; the only mind you are there in time to let him most unsatisfactory aliment in the world. breathe before we start. The hounds meet at Gaily whistling up his spirits, he began, for Bexley. I shall breakfast at the Grange, and want of better amusement, to think of some see that you are ready for me. But stop-give familiar air,.by which he might beguile the me a light, for this room is darker than -— " time. "Gentle Zitella," had already pas" Break his heart!" said the house-keeper, sed his lips; but there is a power in sound and she turned again into her own chamber, to call up buried images, beyond what the where she was soon asleep in her own bed. utmost stretch of' imagination can realize; It was a noble and heart-stirring sight to and with that light and playful ditty, came those who care for such things, to see back the vivid remembrance of her who had young Wentworth that day on his black so often sung it with him; and he saw again hunter-a furious and high mettled animal, the slender fingers, white as the ivory keys that few could manage: but it was the pride they touched, and the sparkle of the sunny of his rider that he could manage anything eyes, and all the bright and rapid variations — could bring anything into subjection. He of her incomparable charms. forgot that little field of action, his own heart, There was no bearing this; —stillness, like and those eternal enemies, his own wild pas- that of death, was all around him; and had sions, and his own stubborn will. In fact he not his horse, with something of his master's forgot every thing for a few hours at least, irritability of feeling, started at every fresh for the frost was all gone-the scent lay well object upon the road, and thus with the ap-the ground was in the best possible condi- plication of whip and spur, supplied him with tion) and Ronald outdid himself, to say no- continual occupation, it is impossible to say thing of the merits of the poor fox, who died to what height his impatience might have like a Briton. risen. It was too much for mortal man to enThere was excitement in the chase that dure —to be haunted night and day as by a day, enough to wean a'heart like Went-. spectre, and all this torment from one who worth's from every thought -of sorrow; and would not willingly have east a shadow on if sometimes the image of his lost treasure his path. It became necessary to call up all woulh present itself unbidden, it only served that was potent and dignified in his nature, as a; stimulus to fresh action —to urge his for he was not the man to be made a fool of orse to a more desperate leap. by such idle fantasies; so he discontinued 80 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. his boyish occupation of lashing off all the as it passed under the arch of the ancient young twigs within his reach, and sat bolt gateway, and, when he looked down the first upright in his saddle, and felt himself a man street into the city, its glimmering lights were and a gentleman. intercepted at intervals by the nodding of the In this style he was issuing from a bye- heavy plumes. lane, which led out by a sudden angle into Wentworth would have given much, could the great public road, when in an instant, his he have entered by some other road, for to philosophy and himself had well nigh been say nothing of his own internal struggle, he dismounted, by Ronald giving a tremendous felt, in this rencontre, the want of the decency start; and Wentworth started too, for by that of external mourning. turn in the road, they had come at once upon In his scarlet coat, he had unwittingly the sight and sound of the quick stroke of a joined the funeral procession, and his sleek spade, upon the fresh earth of a new-made and high mettled hunter was proudly reargrave, in a little churchyard, that was sepa- ing and prancing beside the hearse, which rated by a high and thin hedgefrom the pub- had just conveyed Ellen to her grave. lic road. The funeral procession was all Before he could reach his own door, it was gone-the clergyman had left the church — necessary to pass the house of Mr. Eskdale. the clerk had. just locked the door, and was He looked up to the windows-the drawcarrying home the keys, and a troop of mer- ing-room was again lighted, and the shadows ry children were enjoying their last gambol of female figures flitted to and fro. amongst the graves, before the sexton should Ah! how well could Wentworth picture to finish his work and turn them out of their his mind the scene within. The blazing fire favorite play ground. of a winter's evening-the many lights of'" That's a cold lodging" said Wentworth, paler lustre-the thick folds of damask curas soon as he recovered himself; while he tains-the crimson furniture, that gave a pushed up his horse's head as near as he glow of warmth and comfort to all aroundcould bring it to the part of the hedge, beside the soft and flowery carpets, and the rich where the sexton stood.-" That's a cold sofas inviting to luxurious repose. He lodging for somebody, my good fellow; for thought of all these, and then of that little whom ate you doing that kind service " churchyard, where the night was closing in "Sir," said the man, looking up, and rest- unheeded, and that solitary grave, on which ing one hand upon the spade, while with the a still and steady rain was falling, unfelt; other he slowly raised his hat; "who lays and then, for the first time, the full convichere, did you mean, Sir — It's a Miss Esk- tion took possession of his soul, that Ellen dale, —there's a monument in that church to was indeed no more-that through the whole old Sir Jonas Eskdale, and the family has of his after-life he should never gaze upon buried here ever since his time." her face again. There might, and he beBefore the old man had finished speaking, lieved there would be much to cheer and anWentworth was again proceeding slowly on imate him on his future course, but Ellen his way, but his head was now bent forward, would not be near to share it. Creatures as and strongly, and violently, yet without aim, bright and beautiful might minister to his or object, his hands were clenching the reins gratification-music might soothe him on his of his bridle. way; but Ellen's harp, and the far sweeter For some time he pursued his way, more tones of Ellen's voice would be forever mute..ike a statue than a living man, when ano- Wentworth passed on —his heart was not ther start of his horse induced him to look broken-he rushed with fresh ardour into the up, and he saw that he was falling in with a vortex of dissipation-he drank deeply of the long line of mourning coaches; and now he cup of pleasure; but sometimes, before the could hear the hollow rumbling of the hearse, cup was tasted, there would arise thoughts, ELLEN ESKDALE. 81 that were almost intolerable, of that dismal How dreadful, then, must be the error of church-yard, the hearse, the coffin, and the those parents who would forcibly compel worms. their children to walk in the right way, by Oh! it needs religion to reconcile us even imposing upon them unnatural restraints; to the earthly part of death. checking their innocent mirth, and violently Of the family of the Eskdales, it is not ne- uprooting, instead of properly directing, those cessary to say more than that, at the expira- desires which nature has implanted in their tion of the usual time for seclusion, they en- hearts. If this be the straight and narrow tered the church, in which they maintained a path which is recommended to us, no wonwarm and comfortable seat, dressed in a full der that so few continue to walk therein. costume of fashionable mourning; that many In order that death may be divested of its times during that day's service, the mother's terrors, it is not necessary that we should face was shrouded in a white and delicately render life still more terrible. In order that scented cambric handkerchief; and that we may think of the grave without shudderonce, or twice, when the daughters lifted up ing and horror, it is not necessary that we their blue eyes, they were seen to be suffused should make the way that leads to it a howlwith tears. ing wilderness; —in order that we may be willing to die, it is not necessary that we should hate to live. The bountiful Creator of our being has supplied his creatures with sources of happiCHAPTER VI. ness, so various and so multiplied, that the meanest peasant may find them in his daily IFI any young reader shall have glanced path, while, to the liberal and enlightened over this picture, in search of highly colour- mind, earth, air, and ocean, teem with woned, or romantic scenery, without any regard der and delight. How, then, can there be sin to the general design of the painting, disap- in opening the heart to those pleasures wlich per.ntment will be the probable issue, accom- the present state of existence affords. The panied by a want of patience to bear with great and important question is, in what the author a little longer, while she gives a measure, and in what manner we shall enjoy summary of her meaning, or, in the true style them. of fable writing, adds a moral to her tale. If the body be permitted to gain the asThe individual, whose short career has cendancy-if we spend our money, our time been described in these pages, may serve to and our energies, in ministering to the gratirepresent a vast multitude of sentient and fication of our senses; whether in gross inimmortal beings, who pass from the cradle dulgence, or in that which is more refined to the grave, without once enquiring for and voluptuous, well may we shudder to perwhat purpose they haive been sent to trace ceive in that body the symptoms of disease their little journey of experience upon this or age; when we know that it must pass earth-with what provision they have set awtay into a state which offers every thing out upon that journey, and what will be the humiliating and repulsive to the natural feelevent of its termination. ings. But if, on the other hand, our pleasThe human mind, in its natural state, has, ures and pursuits have been such as to eleunder all circumstances,,powers of action vate and purify the mind, that mind, being and capabilities of enjoyment; and must ne- itself immortal, will rejoice at the prospect of cessarily be supplied with objects on which that day, when it shall burst the bonds of its these powers may operate, and sources from prison-house, and leave behind the gross whence these capabilities mayextract pleas- impediments of clay. ure. But how, asks the young reader, is it pos 82 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. sible to attain this state of mental exaltation. if the case of these wonderful men supplies My dear young friends, well may you hesi- us with proof, how much the body may be tate, before you attempt so difficult an ascent, brought into subjection to the mind; how without the help of religion; but religion, much of firmness and fortitude may be at, vulgar, degraded, trampled-upon religion, is tained; how much resignation of self and able to accomplish all this for you; and that, sensual enjoyment may be effected, by a without the aid of science or philosophy: steady and systematic cultivation of the inand religion has done as much for many, tellectual powers, combined with a conwhose portion in this world was, to be des- tempt for those luxuries and pleasures pised and rejected of men; convincing them which afford gratification to the senses alone; by the surest evidence, that the termination what should be the expression of our joy, of life is not in itself an evil, nor the ap- what the measure of our gratitude to him proach to it a season of dread. That death who has permitted us, in this our day, to add may be compelled to lay down his hide6us to the negative satisfaction of the stoic, the sceptre,-to cease to be a king of terrors, and high hopes, and the glorious privileges placing, on his brow the diadem of peace, which religion alone can offer. stretch forth his hand, in kindly welcome, to Philosophy may destroy the burden of the the shores of a long wished-for eternity. body, but religion gives wings to the soul. As farther proof how much the body may Philosophy may enable us to look down be made subservient to the mind, we have upon earth with contempt, but religion teachonly to refer to the history of some of the es us to look up to heaven with hope. Phiancient philosophers, who knew not God; losophy may support us to the brink of the and yet were able to meet death with calm- grave, but religion conducts us beyond. ness and satisfaction, and plunge, without Philosophy unfolds a rich store of enjoyment, fear, into the abyss of uncertainty. If, then, — religion makes it eternal. Happy is the the case of these wonderful beings, who heart where religion holds her throne, and shone like stars in the distant firmament; philosophy her noble handmaid, ministers to beautiful in their own lustre, but dimly dis- her exaltation! aunearing before the glorious orb of day THE CURATE'S WIDOW. Oh! amiable lovely death!-SHAKSPEARE. CHAPTER I. Such were the words sung by Alice Bland, as she sat on a low bench at her own door, IN order to present the young reader with one beautiful sabbath evening; and the a contrast to the foregoing picture, it is al- cheerful cadence was joined by the sweet most necessary to enter into the humble and voice of a little dark-haired boy, whom she limited experience of the true christian, pressed closely to her side; while their eyes under similar, and even greater trials. Such met with an expression of such affection, as a picture of private life offers nothing in the none but a mother and a child can know. And way of romantic interest; nothing to excite then they looked away again, over the green the passions; nothing to awaken in the soul fields, far on to the village spire, and traced one spark of poetic feeling; but if it should a little winding path that issued from a possess a charm of sufficient power to fix the group of stately trees, with diligent search, attention of the reader, to excite a greater as if for the appearance of some expected love of virtue, or awaken in the soul a spark object, that was to bring additional enjoyof religious zeal, the Author will not have ment to their quiet and peaceful pleasures. to lament that she has written in vain. "He is coming, ht is coming," said the child, and they both ran forward through " How shall I build an altar, To the Author of my days; the garden gate, and down the green lane, With lips so prone to faulter, where they met a tall, sallow, and exhaustedHow shall I sound his praise I looking young man, dressed in clerical Thy temples were too lowly, costume, and wearing the still more imposOh! great Jerusalem; ing solemnity of his sacred office, as one The Lord of hosts too holy, Too pure, to dwell in them I who deeply felt its awful and almost overThen how shall I, the weakest, whelming responsibility. His servant hope to be? Never did plumed warrior, returning from I'll listen when thou speakest, the field of glory, meet a kinder welcome from Spirit of love to me! his lady-love, than that with which Alice I'll do thy holy bidding, Bland greeted her returning lord-lord both With unrepining heart; of her heart and home. And he too had his I'll bear thy gentle chiding, For merciful thou art. full particpation of delight, as might be seen I'll bring each angry feeling, in his dark and often melancholy eyes, now A sacrifice to thee; lighted up with all the feelings of the husI'll ask thy heavenly healing band, and the father, as he stooped to kiss Even for mine enemy. his boy, the very emblem ofhimself; —-he stoopSo shall I build an altar, ed, for he had lately discovered that to lift him To the Author of my days; from the ground, required an effort almost With lips though prone to faulter. So shall I sound his praise." beyond his strength; especially after so long 84 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. a walk, a day of such laborious duty, and on spoke, and that melancholy sound seemed to a sultry summer's evening: indeed the first Alice deep and impressive, as the tolling of' greeting was hardly over, before he com- the bell, to those who watch the motionless plained of the oppressive heat of the wea- body of the dead. ther, took off his hat, and wiped his brow, " When I am gone," said Marcus, and he that was pale and wrinkled with exhaustion paused; for he was startled by the convuland fatigue. sive pressure of the hand that was clasped Alice placed his arm within hers, and led in his, but his wife made no reply, and again him gently up the lane, while the boy ran he spoke: forward and threw open the garden gate, "Alice, my beloved wife, there is an awful holding it back at the very widest, that his sentence pronounced upon us. We have father and mother might pass through with- long known it, why should we shrink from out hinderance. acknowledging to each other that we must Within the cottage all was peace and part. Close, as the connection between soul simple comfort. Their one domestic was and body, has been the union of my spirit enjoying the liberty of the sabbath amongst with thine; but as it is appointed unto all her own people, and Alice with her willing that they should die, so is it appointed to the hands, had prepared the social tea, with dearest that they should part. We are not cream, and fruit, and every thing that she as those who are sorrowing without hope; thought would be most refreshing to the for we know, and believe and are persuaded, weary invalid. Little Marcus had gathered that we shall meet again; and that in all a plate of strawberries, of which he felt things excellent, and pure, and holy, we are himself the proud proprietor, and these, with bound together by ties which death cannot both his hands, he presented to his father, tear asunder. Look up my beloved, and tell with that deference which his mother had me, though this separation must cut us off taught him was due to those who were ill; for ever from earthly hope, tell me that thou and though his father told him again and hast no repinings, no murmurings against the again that ladies should be first attended to, divine will." the influence of the mother prevailed, and And Alice answered in a firm and steady the ill-mannered boy persisted in the error voice, "I have none;" and then they purof his ways. sued the solemn subject, and branched out Happy pair! this little point of etiquette into its painful realities, with the faith and was all that Marcus and Alice Bland ever the confidence of sincere and humble chrisfound to contend about; for in duty, as well tians. The father spoke tenderly of his as in pleasure, their hands and hearts were child; and then the mother covered her face united. with her hands, and wept aloud; but her The social meal was prolonged by plea- tears were tears of womanly feeling, not of sant converse, and the frolic of the happy despondency or doubt. child, until the golden hues of sunset, and the lengthened shadows of the trees gave place to the sober livery of twilight. Little Marcus had sung his evening hymn, and lisped his evening prayer, and the fond CHAPTER II, parents had both pressed their farewell kiss upon his cheek, when they sat down togeth- ALICE Bland was a plain and useful charer, and in silence, as if listening to a boding acter, with few pretensions to gentility; but voice, which of late had often whispered to she possessed that rare and valuable tact, their hearts, though neither had trusted their which preserved her from every offence lips with a response. At last the husband against the laws of good breeding. Her THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 85 husband was a scholar and a gentleman; glory. And Alice prayed also, both with but they were both of humble parentage; her husband and in secret; still bearing nobly and had it not been for their unbounded af- on, for the end was not yet, and she had all fection for each other, their simple habits, those hallowed duties to perform which keep and contentment in their lowly station, they alive the heart of woman. would have found it extremely difficult to "You are better to day," said she to her exist, upon the slender pittance which the husband one afternoon, when he seemed curacy of the neighbouring parish afforded. to be recovering from the severest paroxyism But Alice was cheerful, active, and domes- of his disorder. tic, and made the best of every thing, even "I am better," said he, "but I want of herself, though without knowing it; for breath;" so Alice folded back the curtains-of her appearance, dress, and manners, were as the bed, and opened the window, and they simple and unpretending, as well could be. looked out together again upon the green And then she had such a warm welcome in fields, and the winding path, which he had her very look; indeed some people said it so often trod when going forth on his paswas her comfortable, and care-taking ways, toral duties. that first won upon the poor invalid; for he "I want breath," continued he,'and was a lodger in her mother's house, long be- voice, and energy, to tell you of the ineffable fore they married, and Alice used to wait enjoyment of dying the death of the Chrisupon him like a sister, and truly he both tian. My heart is filled with the unspeakdeserved and needed it; for he was an or- able love which we believe to be a part of phan left almost destitute, was kind in his the Divine essence; for which we have often disposition, studious in his habits, constitu- prayed, and which is of such difficult attaintionally pensive, and pious upon principle. ment amidst the troubles and turmoils of It was scarcely possible for the relentless life. Alice, thou shouldst have no tears for hand of death to cut asunder a closer, dearer such an hour as this. Oh, cherish the reor more tender thread than that which membrance of our parting scene, as the supbound together this simple pair; and yet port and the consolation of thy future life; they saw every day that there was urgent and when I am gone, think not of me as a need for preparation for that awful and man who was humble, and pious, and devou!t, tremendous event, which, after they had but of one who lived and died in the love once spoken of it, became the theme of their of Christ Jesus, and the faith which is built serious and most confidential communion. upon his resurrection: who, if he had any Marcus Bland was sinking fast away; but knowledge above that of the vilest sinner, to him death had no terrors, and though his owed that knowledge to the precepts of his griefs were those of the husband and the heavenly Master; if he had any faith befather, his hopes were those of the Christian, yond that of the hypocrite, freely acknowpure, and elevated, and holy; bearing him ledged that faith to be from above; and if above all considerations either earthly or he were at last supported through the bitterperishable. But she, the vine, who had ness of parting from the dearest of earthly bound her tendrils round his branches, and companionships, knew it could only be by interwoven her very existence with his, and the interposition of divine mercy. the young sapling, how were they to endure "Think of these things, my beloved wife, the storms of winter, without the shelter of more than of me. The cup of which we the parent stem. For them he mourned in have partaken together, has been sweet as secret; for them he prayed, that every rough the waters of' paradise. Remember from blast might be turned away, that genial whence that cup was filled, and believe that showers might descend, and that they might there are rivers of delight in store for those live and flourish in the sunshine of eternal who faithfully fulfil their appointed task. 86 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. My last, my parting injunction is, to pray ceased, watching that pale extended figure, fervently; and to teach our child to pray. until the white bed clothes seemed to tremBy forgetfulness of this duty, we often suffer ble beneath the intensity of her gaze; and estrangement from the Divine presence, sometimes she started at a fancied heaving and then, in our times of utmost need, when of the breast; but faith and love were we would willingly return to this resource, it strong within her, and sweeter to her was seems as if a veil had dropped between us that silent vigil, than all which the busy and heaven. Pray, then, dear Alice, even world without could offer. when the refreshing dews are upon thy path, As the miser delights to count over every and there seems no immediate need for item of his hoarded treasure, so she recalled prayer." and dwelt upon each excellence of him, Alice made no answer; but she pressed whose expiring lamp had, so far as rehis hand as if to say, " My path must hence- gards the things of this world, left her m forth be through the desert," and then her total darkness. But as she knew that anohusband went on. ther morning would dawn, and that the " There is a strange fluttering at my sun would return again; that light would heart, and I feel that death is near. Trem- dance upon the hills, and the voice of gladble not, I beseech thee, but raise my head, ness be heard in the vallies, so she trusted and let me die where it was my happiness that the sun of righteousness would arise, to live. My poor boy! I would not have and shine upon the darkness of her behim near me, for he could not understand my nighted soul, and she trusted not in vain, for situation, and might learn to be afraid of oil was poured upon the troubled waters, death. I have nothing to bequeath him but and her soul was filled as with an holy a father's blessing, and a father's kiss; thou calm. shalt press it upon his cheek when I am gone Tell us, ye sons of pleasure, ye daughters -the last and the dearest." And then his of dissipation, how it is that you endure the words became inarticulate, and his breathing blasts of the desert, without the aid of relidifficult; but Alice supported him to the gion-without the consolation of prayer. very last, unaided, and alone; for to her it Though Alice Bland forgot not for a sinwould have seemed like profanation, to call gle moment that the wheels of destruction in the help of stranger-hands; and, having had passed over her earthly hopes, she reno fear of death, nor weak longing to escape membered also that she was poor; and that to from the presence of the dead, she remained the poor belong many duties, which the chilalone in the chamber, through the solemn dren of affluence and refinement think it instillness of that hour which follows the mor- consistent with the tenderness of wounded tal separation of soul and body; while the feelings to perform. To every arrangement room seems filled with the atmosphere of for household comfort she attended with her death, and voices of etherial beings are wonted punctuality; and all things for the whispering tidings from the land of spirits. order and decency of the burial were of her The first sound that startled her from that contriving, without any omission of what heavenly communion, was the voice of her was respectful and neighbourly. child in the garden below. It became neces- The day before the fureral arrived, and sary to rouse herself, and descending into Alice had not yet taken her child into the saher little parlour, she caught up ber boy in cred chamber. She had herself been there her arms, and for the first time burst into an since the first rising of the sun; and while agony of tears. the dew was yet glittering upon the leaves, How solitary was that long night to the she had gathered sprigs of thyme, and roseheart of the widowed mother! Hour after mary, to place within the coffin, and sweethour she spent in the chamber of the de- scented flowers to garnish the room; and THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 87 now, when her silent breakfast was over, steps. Extreme restlessness, that dreadful and she and the child and the one domestic accompaniment of the last degree of mental had knelt down together, to pray for the suffering, took possession of her, and she blessing of their heavenly Father upon the wandered from room to room, as if hoping transactions of another day, she led her child in every place to leave some portion of the up stairs, and raising him in her arms, he load that weighed upon her, until at length rested with his rosy fingers upon the side of she sought consolation in prayer, and rethe coffin, and looked upon the face of the membering her husband's parting injunction, dead. He looked earnestly and long, and knelt down, and humbly and fervently petithen directed an enquiring glance to his mo- tioned, that to her cup of bitterness there ther, as if he asked of her an explanation of might be added some drops of comfort. the strange mystery; but he made no re- And her petition was not rejected; for sweet mark, though he turned again and again, as sleep stole over her wearied senses, and she if fascinated by the beauty of that still pale awoke in the morning with fresh strength countenance, from which every trace of anx- and courage to pursue her solitary way. iety and care had passed away. It is true, the raven hair retained its few silver threads, but it rested on a brow as serenely beautiful as the surface of the summer sea, when its waters sleep beneath a cloudless sky, and CHAPTER III. make no ripple on the shore. And the bright eyes were closed upon the world -for How little is known of what the human ever, not as in weariness or disgust, but as heart may endure and struggle through, by if, to their inward vision, was revealed a those who slumber in the lap of indulgence! light, compared with which all without was Death, it is true, with his grim visage,.and perfect darkness; and the pure lips were aim that no earthly power can avert, will closed, fromwhence had flowed the eloquence sometimes steal in upon their visions, but of feeling, the force of truth, and the inspira- they can gather round them a band of gracetion of that wisdom which is from above. ful mourners, and having no active part to Little Marcus soon returned to his usual take in the ceremony of preparing for the sports, but many times during that day he grave, they are at liberty to sigh away their broke off suddenly, and went and leaned sorrows in costly weeds, and weep at will upon his mother's knee, and once he looked over the urn of the departed. But the luxanxiously in her face, and said, c" Was it my ury of weeping gracefully, nay, the rational father?" But his happy little bosom bounded privilege of mourning quietly, and without with fresh enjoyment, and his mother tried interruption, is too frequently denied to the in vain to make him sensible of his irrepar- poor. Wounded and weary, they must go able loss. forth again upon active service; they must In the midst of the preparation for the last engage in the bustling concerns of life, even solemn rites, Alice was not inactive; but when the light of life has been extinguished; seemed to be thinking of every one more they must arise'and gird themselves for warthan of herself; planning for their accommo- fare, when their bosom's shield has been cleft dation, and attending to their wants, yet all asunder. with a sweet mournful dignity, as if she bore Thus it was that Alice Bland compelled about with her a sorrow too deep for com- herself, or was compelled by circumstances, mon sympathy or condolence The most to enter upon a serious consideration of her trying part of that day, was the quiet after present melancholy and deserted situation; the funeral, when the guests were gone, and not in order the more fully to comprehend she retired without an object to direct her the extent and the depth of her affection, but 88 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. that she might arrange and act upon some of making a cheap bargain; but all peeped plan for the future maintenance of herself about, and were equally earnest and willing and her child. That she must leave her to try the strength of chairs, and rap their sweet cottage, was a truth upon which she knuckles upon china, and feel the weight of never once attempted to close her eyes; be- carpets and counterpanes. cause her doom was inevitable, and she had There was not a corner in the whole house long known it: so she bestirred herself, and free from their intrusion; and Alice, having took an inventory of all her worldly posses- resigned herself for that day entirely to the sions; every now and then laying aside some- service of her friends, they were so charmed thing useful or comfortable for a sick neigh- with her attention and activity, that they apbour, or some trifling memento for an hum- plied to her for information about almost ble friend, every article. Alas! she could but too well With such occupations she busied herself remember where and when they had been during the day; and when the evening came, purchased, what elegant taste had selected she went out with her presents, calling upon them, and whose beloved fingers had halevery one who had known and valued her lowed them with his touch. But no one husband's pastoral care, and saying some guessed what was passing in her mind; and cheering words to them at parting, as if they they plunged deeper and deeper into her were the mourners, and she the comforter. house-economy, ploughing up her feelings And truly she needed a comforter in her as they went. And no one pitied her, for turn; for, by the time she reached her home she never wept in public; and many reagain, she was like the bough that has scat- marked, as they went away, that Alice Bland tered its last leaf upon the merciless wind. was just the cheerful, active sort of person, But the Comforter was near-the promised to get through with a thing of this kind; Comforter, and darkness was turned into nothing could have been more satisfactorily light at his presence. managed, and the refreshments were excelDays passed away, and Alice still lingered lent. at the cottage, for she was in treaty for a sit- Thus they dropped off, at first in merry uation with a distant relative, and waited his troops, then one by one, until all departed, answer and decision, before she entered upon and Alice stood alone at her own door, lookthe last hard duty of advertising a public ing around upon a scene of desolation. But sale, and disposing of all her goods and where was little Marcus all this while? His household property upon the very spot where mother had given him his dinner in a basshe had known so much happiness. The ket, and sent him out early in the morning flower-beds which her husband had planted to play in a neighbour's field, where he was and weeded, were to be trodden down by the allowed to keep a goat, with strict orders feet of strangers; and the shrubs which he not to return until he was sent for, nor to had reared and cherished, were to become wander from the field, but to fill his basket the property of another. All, except the bed with flowers, and amuse himself, as well as on which he died, she was willing to part he could, with his shaggy favourite. with; and the table on which he used to At first the boy was happy enough, and write, his chair, and a few simple things thought his mother had seldom done a kindwhich possessed a sort of sanctity in her er thing; but perpetual amusement is diffieyes. These she reserved for herself, and cult to ensure, even in the company of a securing them in what was once her own goat, and, before eleven, Marcus was glad chamber, rose early, and prepared for the to eat his dinner, wondering, all the while, long dreaded day. what he should do next. Oh: the flowers! Neighbours flocked in from all quarters, he would take home such beauties for his some from curiosity, and others in the hope mother; but why was he to stay so long, THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 89 and why did nobody come for him; he sat herself arranged all that she wished to take down and wondered exceedingly. His goat, away, Marcus was not half satisfied with too, was neither so playful nor so fond of him, the selection he had made, but entreated his as it was at first; and sure he thought it mother to wait one moment, while he empwas not like his own dear mother to keep tied the basket upon the floor for the twenhim there all day. Moreover, he believed it tieth time. was growing very late, though the sun was " I will wait at any rate, until the cart arstill high over head: and then the thought rives," said his mother, " and see, here it is came across his mind, that his mother had coming up the lane. You must make haste, forgotten him, and, as a very reasonable for all that we cannot carry, is to be taken consequence, he began to cry. away in the cart." Long after this consummation, Alice came "Why must they be taken away at all? into the field, and found him weeping bitter- are they not ours?" ly; his cheeks flushed and swollen, and his " Yes;-but we are going too." bright eyes glimmering through tears, which "Going! where? and what for?" burst forth afresh at the sight of her who had "I cannot tell you now, my love. You been the cause of his grievance. must make haste, for the man will not like to Alice again had to act the part of the wait." comforter; and in fulfilling this holy duty, In a few minutes the little furniture which how often are we ourselves comforted! Alice had reserved for herself, with some The next morning Alice arose early, and, chests of household goods, were placed in having despatched a hasty breakfast, assist- the cart; and the man drove away, whised the young woman, who had been her tling as he went, and never looked back, nor helpmate in domestic duties, to pack up her thought of the mother and the child whom small wardrobe; and having added all that he had left so lonely in their deserted she was able to spare from her own, paid her dwelling. wages, and bid her farewell with the afbec- " Are you quite ready?" said Alice to her tionate interest of a friend; walking with boy, as he made his appearance, looking sorher as far as the garden-gate, and then hold- rowfully round the empty room. ing out her hand again, she wished her "It does not look like our own house now," happiness in her new situation, and hoped said he. she would read her bible often, and be active "It is well it does not," thought his moand industrious, minding, above all things, ther, as she led him by the hand, and closing to be faithful to the will of God. the door, turned the key in the lock for the The poor girl was unable to speak for her last time. gathering tears, but carrying little Marcus By how sudden, and yet simple a stroke, in her arms to the gate, set him down beside the flood-gates of memory may sometimes his mother, and, placing in his hand a small be thrown open. basket, her parting present, kissed him fond- Alice Bland had gone through the duties ly, and went silently away, her heart too full of the past week, with a resignation that for expression. was wonderful even to herself; but just as "What shall we do now 3" said Marcus, that familiar sound caught her ear-the ooking after her. turning of the key in her. own door-there " We must go too," said his mother, and came back upon her mind the overwhelming she drew him gently into the house, and bid recollection of the many sabbaths, when she him gather up all his play things, and fill his and her beloved husband had walked togebasket with those which he liked best; and ther to the house of God, holding sweet truly she could hardly have found him a more counsel as they went. And now she was lasting occupation: for even when she had going forth with her poor child, like Hagar 90 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. into the wilderness, but oh! more desolate valued: for here they used to catch the first than Hagar, she was going a stranger into glimpse of little Marcus throwing wide the the wilderness of the world! gate, and here they used to see the smoke of Close beside her, and half hid amongst their own chimney, and think and speak of the leaves of the rose-tree, the jessamine, and the enjoyments of their own fireside. the clematis, was the rustic bench on which "It is the Lord's will," said Alice, after they used to sit through the twilight hour,- she had looked round for the last time, and the only hour which their domestic economy then she walked on in silence, until Marcus allowed for indolence; and even then, they who had not before this moment been fully were accustomed to hallow this season of aware of the extent of his bereavements, rest by conversing upon heavenly themes; stopped suddenly, and called out, "But the encouraging each other to fresh exertion in goat!" the Christian warfare, numbering their " Oh! I had quite forgot to say anything blessings, and not unfrequently offering up about the goat," replied his mother, "but we hymns of thankfulness and praise to him who shall have to call in the village to leave the had filled their cup of happiness so full. key, and I will ask our neighbours if they Alice looked around, and there was not a will allow him to remain in the field; he will shrub nor flower, which had not its accompa- be much happier there, than in the town nying chain of recollections, closely inter- where we are going." woven with her heart of hearts. There was " And should not we be happier too? Let the bush of sweet brier growing beside the us stay, mother! do!" And he looked up inparlour window, when it used to offer up its to her face with such a pitiful and imploring welcome perfume after the summer shower; countenance, that Alice felt- it almost beyond the evening primrose, now closely folded up, her strength to combat this new difficulty. that would soon open out its delicate flowers, " We must go, my love, or we shall be too where there would be no eye to gaze upon late for the coach;" but it was not until after its moonlight beauty; the bright laurel, that many and repeated assurances that they spread its deep shadow upon the walk; and would travel very fast with four horses, and the festoons of rustling ivy, " never sere." — that a man would really blow a horn, that All, all, were old familiar friends, and Alice she succeeded in dragging the little obstiwas leaving them for ever! nate away at a tolerable speed. Oh! bend my spirit to thy will, and Having reached the public road, only a strengthen me for thy service!" was the in- few minutes after the time which Alice had ward prayer of her heart to him, who alone fixed in her own mind to be there, they could knoweth the bitterness of the portion which see at a great distance a cloud of dust, in the he sometimes sees meet to set before his suf- midst of which a heavy coach came clatterfering creatures. ing down the hill, and stopped within a yard Alice and her boy passed through the of the place where they were standing; the garden-gate, closing it gently after them, outside passengers looking half smothered and entered the green lane; and then, what with heat, and choked with dust, and the a home sound there was in their voices, en- horses panting, and blowing, and tossing the closed, as they were between the high hedg- foam from their mouths. es ol' hawthorn, whose white blossoms fell, " All's right," said the guard, as he slamlike flakes of snow, upon the green herbage med the door to, with such violence as made below, or sailed away a scented burthen up- little Marcus start from his seat: and then on the passing gale. Here she had been the horses went off again at full speed, the accustomed to talk of household comforts to harness rattled, and the driver cracked his him for whose sake all comforts were doubly whip, the heavy wheels grinding up the THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 91 road as they went, and the dust arising in j sunny brows of youth, or conceal the wrinkthick volumes, and settling upon every ob les of old age, to add lustre to the bloom of ject both within and without. beauty, or beguile the eye of the beholder Alice shrunk back into the corner of the from the deep shadow of cankering care. coach, for the other side was occupied by a " Who can have a heart light enough to young lady and her brother, fresh from Cam- bear such'blushing honours' as these upon bridge, whose restless eye examined the her head?" said Alice, as she held a splenface of the young widow, with as little deli- did turban in her hand; "and these silvery cacy as if it had been a new pattern for a flowers, who can feel pure enough to wear waistcoat; while Marcus, as soon as the first them; and this richly worked handkerchief, shock of astonishment had gone off, compos- who but an eastern prince, would purchase ed himself to rest, and silently thrusting his and use it?" hand into his mother's, and leaning his cheek Could she have followed her specimens of upon her arm, fell into a quiet sleep from handiwork to their place of exhibition, she which she would have been sorry to awake might have seen the splendid turban mounthim to the most distant participation in the ed upon the dark and shrivelled forehead of agony which she was enduring. one, who scowled upon the happiness of Thankful for the protection of her weeds, others, without the heart to enjoy, or the the poor widow bent down her head, and power to blast it. She might have seen the fixed her eyes upon the countenance of her pure and spotless flowers, drooping over child, with feelings, which those only can throbbing temples, where every vein was imagine, who know what it is to shrink from flushed, and contrasting their silvery light the obtrusive glance of strangers, within the with the wild flashes of a restless eye, that inner tabernacle of the soul, where one pure glared with the lurid brightness of false and image is enshrined in the spotless garment feverish excitement. And the delicate and of unchangeable and holy love. costly handkerchief, she might have seen suspended in the red hand, that told its own tale, of " excessive turtle, and good living." She might have seen all these, and a thousand incongruities beside, which would have CHAPTER IV. driven her home, even to her own comfortless apartment, with something very much IF the kind reader will condescend to take akin to satisfaction, if not with real enjoyanother view of the desolate widow, it must ment. But Alice Bland knew little of the be within the walls of an humble dwelling, fashionable world, and fondly fancied that one of an extensive row of houses which the mysterious beings for whom she was formed a narrow street in the outskirts of the perpetually providing embellishments, the metropolis. richest, gayest, and most costly, which her Here Alice Bland had fixed herself on ac- ingenuity could invent, must in themselves count of the cheapness of the accommoda- possess a charm, and a power of enjoyment, tion; here she occupied two small rooms, beyond what common natures were acquaintfrom neither of which she could see a single ed with; and consequently, she thought her blade of green grass, or space of sky suffi- own portion by comparison, more bitter than cient for making any observation upon the.t really was. Possessed with this idea, she weather; and here she had agreed with a found it difficult at all times to guard against fashionable milliner, to spend her morning, repining; especially when any trifling cirnoon, and evening hours in arranging gay cumstance brought back a quickened rememribbons and many-coloured head dresses, brance of the sweet home she had lost; when and mimic flowers and feathers, to adorn the she looked out from her little casement, and, 92 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. saw that the moon was high in the heavens; was already crossed with wrinkles; and her for even brick walls are beautiful by moon- -dark eye shot forth fierce flashes of jealousy, light; and when the rays of the setting sun, and revenge; while her lips, that looked as reaching a certain angle in the opposite side if formed only for cherub smiles, were disof the street, slightly illuminated one pane torted and compressed with rage and indigof her window, and a small portion of her nation. curtains; for then she knew that the same "Audacious woman!" she at length besun was tinging with golden beauty, the tops gan; then suddenly recollecting that she had of the trees, and the village spire, upon in reality no just cause of grievance, she which she had often gazed so fondly. But lowered her tone, and commenced upon anomost of all when her beloved child came ther key. home from school weary and dispirited, and "I have been directed to you, as the perseemed to pine for the green fields, and the son whose ingenuity invented that exquifresh air, to which he had been accustomed; sitely managed turban, which the Marchionthen her spirits sunk within her, and she was ess of -- exhibited on Friday night, and almost ready to say, " my burthen is greater which has forever established her celebrity than I can bear!" in the fashionable world." It was some weeks after her settlement in "I am that person, Ma'am, and I shall be town, and during one of these fits of melan- happy to execute anything of the same kind choly abstraction, that the sound of carriage for __," wheels was heard rolling up to the widow's "c For me! presumptuous wretch! do you door, and a thundering knock soon followed. suppose I would humble myself so far, as Alice looked out, half frightened, and saw even to employ the same fingers which work by the elegance of the equipage, that its oc- for the Marchioness of? No! I cupant must be of rank; but she had no time would rather make my appearance in the to make further observations, for a light fig- world with that widow's cap of yours upon ure sprung from the step as soon as the door my head;" and then in an under tone she was opened, and the carriage drove off im- said, or rather sighed, "Heaven only knows mediately. what I would give to be entitled to wear it." What was the astonishment of Alice, when While Alice discovering at the same time she found that she was herself the object of that she wore a wedding ring upon her finthis unexpected visit; and when the same ger, was so shocked and startled by the coinlight figure walked with easy condescension cidence, that she could not help fearing some into her own apartment, her fine face adorn- wild maniac had found her way to her obed with smiles and graces, which disappeared scure abode. the moment the door was closed, and they The lady however went on, more coolly, two were left alone. but with a tone and look of authority, which Alice rose up to beg the lady would be were but little calculated to produce the inseated; but she had already thrown herself tended effect. into a chair, with evident petulance and cha- "I have come," said she, " to demand of grin, at the same time drawing off her glove you the only reparation which it is in your from an exquisitely beautiful hand, and un- power to offer me. I have formed my plan; tying a close bonnet, which she threw back, it is only for you to act upon it. The Marand exhibited a countenance, from which the chioness will most probably apply to you,spirit of a ministering angel ought to have again, for her beauty is not of the kind to iooked forth. Alas! how much the finest maintain itself. I have purchased a gauze works of creation may be perverted from which is of the exact colour to antipathize their original design! Fatiguedwith harass- with her complexion. Now I insist upon ing and despicable cares, her young brow your making it up in time for the grand en THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 93 tertainment at Lady L —'s, and telling the of her reason whether it were utterly inMarchioness, who will undoubtedly call upon compatible with the feelings of an upright you, that you never saw anything half so be- and generous heart; and her resolution was coming in your life. She has implicit faith stronger than before. in your good taste. You will lose nothing Assured of this, the lady was obliged to by it; for even if the joke should be discov- commence another attack upon fresh ground, ered, you ensure me for life: and every one and casting down her eyes, declared that must allow, that by such an exchange, you she would in her turn be serious; for notlessen your labour at any rate." withstanding a natural playfulness of tem" Let me assure you, Ma'am," said Alice, per, which sometimes carried her away, she with great gravity, " that in making such was in reality a very wretched creature. an application to me, you have quite mis- "I was married," said she, "at the age of taken my character and principles." seventeen, to a wealthy old peer, whom I " Character and principles! how you talk, hate as cordially as I love his establishment woman! - We never hear of such things, and his purse. I cannot say more, withexcept when we are urged to do what is dis- out exposing secrets and betraying conagreeable to us." - fidence; but there are reasons, why I would "Then I make use of the plea upon sacrifice my daily food and my nightly rest, your own ground; for it would be extremely to humble the Marchioness of-; in fact, disagreeable to me to do so mean a thing, she must be humbled, and if you will not as that which you propose to me, and what serve me, some one else shall." is more, I will not do it!" So saying, she looked at her watch, and "You are very blunt, my good woman; hearing at the same time the sound of her but I hear you have lived in the country, carriage entering the narrow street, she rose where it would be a thousand pities for tal- and walked haughtily to the door; but not ents such as yours to be buried. Think before she had tried, as a last resource, the how much the patronage of a lady of rank offer of a bribe, which Alice rejected with may do for you. There is Mrs. B —, who more indignation than good breeding; aswas brought up to the same employment as suring her at the same time that she would yourself, now sporting her carriage." rather be the destitute widow, who is com" It is idle," replied Alice, " to waste your pelled to earn her daily portion with pain temptations upon me, for I am fixed in my and labour, than the rich and titled lady determination. I have but one object in life who scruples not to enter the dwellings of beyond the fulfilment of my duty as a chris- the poor, to insult them with her passions, tian, and that is, to secure a maintenance for and disgust them with her folly. my child, and if possible, to place him, "Is this a specimen of the envied and when he shall be a man, upon the same privileged class of society?" said Alice, as footing in society which his father held; but she looked out upon the gay livery and even to secure this darling object, I would the prancing horses! "It is better to be a not stoop to do that which would render me I lone woman' in a desert, than such a pitiacontemptible in my own eyes, and guilty be- ble wretch as this!" and she sat down more fore Heaven.' cheerfully resigned to her fate, than she had " Nonsense, nonsense! You make too been befobre. Indeed the constant employserious a thing of a mere joke. Have you ment which her good taste and industry enno love for a joke i'" sured her, served very much to while away " Not for a mean joe." the monotony of her life, and to keep alive "Then you will not oblige me?" and the the hope that burned within her breast and lady smiled with such syren sweetness, that gave a charm and a zest to every occupaAlice again examined the case, and enquired tion. 94 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. CHAPTER v. ladies, some of whom would gladly have purchased, with a considerable sacrifice of IT was not from innate skill in the art of their rank and riches, a renewal of their wanbeautifying, that Alice Bland was able to ing beauty. This was a kind of life that succeed so well in her new occupation; nor Alice, in her heart, despised; and she began for anything innate, unless a naturally clear to think seriously of entering upon one, perception of the fitness of things, with a which, though less profitable, would be more quick eye for the arrangement of colours dignified; and her decision was more easily and general effect, might be called so: for made after an interview which she had, she had in her early years acquired a toler- about this time, with an unfortunate lady, ably correct knowledge of this branch of who had been struggling for fifty years business, so important to the great world of against the inroads of deformity, and disease. fashion, during many repeated visits to an Alice was sent for one evening, and shown, aunt who was a milliner; and it had oc- by a private passage, into a splendid apartcurred to her in her forlorn situation, as be- ment, in which she waited some time for the ing the most likely means of enabling her, lady's orders to proceed to business. At not only to be independent herself, but to last she was ushered into the presence, and procure such instruction for her boy as found herself in a long dressing room, every might fit him for the future high calling, to inch of which was filled with perfumes and which she was determinea, if possible, to cosmetics, laces and ribbons, satins, and devote him, embroidery. At the farther end and almost That he might walk in his father's steps, buried in rich damask cushions, she behe & a was the first wish of her heart; for this lean and haggard figure, whose good pleasshe humbled herself, for this she toiled, and ure, delicately hinted, was no other than this, for this she endured all present privations that she wanted in plain words, to be made cheerfully. Yet still there would sometimes up for the evening; while two or three waitflit across her mind, certain doubts as to the ing women, hurrying to and fro, offered corpropriety of her calling; for she was rising dials and stimulants every moment. in celebrity, consequently she was more fre- Shocked and horrified at the unnatural quently admitted behind the scenes; and spectacle, Alice remained speechless with ever since the visit of the unknown lady, astonishment, and recurring to the rememshe had been perplexed with apprehensions brance of him, who was still a sort of second that she was, though in a remote way, min- conscience to her, she shrunk from the prosistering to evil passions, and selfish and con- titution of her talents to so vile a purpose. temptible gratifications. Still it was an oc- "You are ill, Ma'am, I fear," said Alice. cupation, constant and unremitting, and she "No! no! I am going to the Duchess of found at the end of the first year, that her B ——'s. The foreign ambassadors are to circumstances were materially improved. be there, in short, every body in the world,Another year passed away, and she was and-and-I have heard of your good taste able to place her boy at a higher school, and ingenuity. My women make a fool of where he made astonishing progress in his me. Try what you can do. You shall not learning; and oh! the heart of the fond have to repent the waste of your tune and mother would bound with delight, Whenever trouble." he came to her with a demand for a fresh In vain did Alice protest that she had no supply of books, and when he told her with skill,-that she was giving up her business, pride in his dark eyes and blushes on his -that she never did any thing in this way. cheeks, of his master's commendations. All would not do. The women went on, Another year passed, and Alice became consulting her in every thing they did, until the private and confidential assistant of many she was inadvertently drawn in, though I- THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 95 scarcely to give more than a casting vote ated. "I will disgrace his name no longer. with regard to colours and ornaments. The meanest office of servitude would be The poor lady was miserably ill, and more dignified than this. But whither am dreadfully deformed, but so skilfully was the I wandering?" for the scene she had just whole affair managed, that when, with the witnessed seemed to have made her insensihelp of two women, she rose up and walked ble to the danger of being alone at that hour across the floor, there was such a majestic in the streets of London, and she now looked rustling of silks, and such a graceful waving around and above her, and saw that the of feathers in the scented atmosphere, that stars were shining as meekly upon that huyou might almost at the first glance have man hive, as upon the flowering hawthorn, mistaken for a gem, the worthless pebble that scattered its white blossoms in the green concealed within its costly casket. lane beside her once happy dwelling; and In constant attendance upon this misera- she thought the spangled heavens above, ble creature, was a fair young girl, the were like an ark of promise, that God will daughter of a poor relation; and it was be equally near to those who call upon him thought by some, that Miss Salisbury paid in the crowded city, as in the quiet grove; dearly for her introduction to fashionable in the haunts of man, as in the solitudes of life, by the duty of supporting half the weight the wilderness. of her patroness; who, in sober truth, was The path of the true christian is not alnot able to walk alone, and therefore used to ways either peaceful or pleasant. He must lean languidly upon the arm of the poor girl, be content to labour through the dust, and who looked about her in astonishment, won- the drudgery of a bustling world; but even dering whether she was really happier than here he will find his happy times of refreshwhen she rambled in her father's green ment, his sweet seasons of rest. fields at home. When Alice reached her home, her first obMiss Salisbury was now called for, and in ject was to look at her sleeping child; to the mean time, the lady viewed herself from smooth his pillow, and to press upon his head to foot in a tall mirror, and then, turn- cheek a kiss so tender, that it could not ing triumphantly to Alice, asked what she have disturbed the dreams of a slumbering thought of her 1 cherub. Never before in her whole life, had Alice "Poor child!" said she, "I am giving up been so puzzled how to answer conscien- thy only prospect of success, but thou shalt tiously. She hesitated, and her silence was never feel the injury I have done thee. I graciously construed into a tribute of admir- will work doubly hard, and thou shalt yet ation. be a scholar and a gentleman. Thy faMiss Salisbury appeared, offering her ther's virtues shall guide and direct thee, ready arm, and the procession moved on. and may a blessing be upon thy path!"'" Stay one moment," said the lady, " you Alice gazed for a long time upon his spothave forgot my fan." less and beautiful cheek, over which the The women flew back to the drawers and fringe of his long dark eye-lashes cast a cabinets, and Alice, in the mean time, taking deep and mournful shadow; and while she from her pocket a little testament, pressed it gazed, a cold feeling of apprehended daninto the lady's extended hand with both her ger stole upon her soul, making that preown, and hurrying down the private stairs, cious object seem dearer than he had ever escaped from the house as if from the den of been before; and then tears of unutterable an enchantress. tenderness rushed into her eyes, and she " I will give up this disgusting business," soothed his slumbers with the followed simsaid she to herself, as she walked across the pie words:wide square in which the house was situ 96 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. THE WIDOW'S SONG TO HER CHILD she; and the very next day she went in " Sweet be thy sleep, beloved one! search of lodgings at a little distance from From fear and danger free, the dust and the smoke of the city, where The tolls, the cares, of day are done, they might have the sight at least of a small And I return to thee plot of garden ground. The pilgrim loves his native home Beyond the wide blue sea; It was necessary to pay twice the sum for Though far his wandering steps may roam, these lodgings which she had paid before; Yet not as I love thee. but she hesitated rnbt one moment, though The wild bird has her nestlings all, her means were considerably reduced, and High in the sheltering tree, a fearful uncertainty seemed to hang over Her faithful mate to hear her call, But I have only thee. her future prospects. Yet such is the power Oh! say not so; the hand that guides of an energetic mind, assisted by a right The sailor o'er the sea, faith, that she was always ready to adopt That stills the storm, and stems the tides d. rea That hand is stretch'd o'er thee. upright and decisive measures; leaving the Beside thy couch of nightly sleep, Beside thy couch of nightly sleep, consequences in the hands of him who alone A guardian angel, see! can know whether reward or chastisement When tears thy midnight pillow steep, will be most conducive to the good of his Those tears are bless'd to thee. creatures: and in the mean time, prepared Thy cares, thy griefs, alike are known, her mind either to rejoice in success or to How deep so e'er they be; submit patiently to disappointment. And number'd out before that throne, Where mercy pleads for thee. There was but one evil in the wide range of human suffering, upon which she could not look with a firm and collected mind. Constant, and almost laborious exertion she had been accustomed to, through the whole of CHAPTER VI. her past life; and therefore it added no weight to the cares which pressed heavily THESE fields are not like our own fields," upon her, but rather took off the keen edge said Marcus to his mother, as they walked of sorrow1 by furnishing a constant supply out one sabbath evening in the suburbs of of objects, which, though trifling in themthe city. "Here the grass is worn away selves, demanded a portion of her interest with trampling feet, and the birds are fright- and attention. But this was an evil which ened from the hedges. When shall we go came upon her in her hours of melancholy back again, mother, for I am tired of dust musing, not like the shadow of a mighty and noise? My head aches all day; and cloud,foritseemedto havenotermination, and sometimes wfhen I ought to be busy with my that it would never pass away. Loneliness lessons, I am thinking of that pleasant home and labour, and privation, she could bear, we had in the country." and had borne cheerfully; but whenever Alice looked in his face while he was she tried to look upon this overwhelming speaking, and saw, with speechless anxiety, sorrow, it appeared to admit of no palliation, what she had often feared before, that the for this wound there was no balm, and the confinement of their present situation, with expression of her rebellious spirit, as it the application and studythat were necessary writhed beneath it, was, too often, "Spare for his success at school, were robbing his me this!" cheek of its bloom, and casting a premature Alice Bland was now deprived of all and unnatural shade upon his fair brow; means of encreasing her source of pecuand then she felt, and acknowledged for the niary subsistence; but she had laid by what first time, that it was indeed a hard thing to to her was a considerable sum of money, be poor. "But he shall not suffer," said during the last few years: which added to THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 97 the allowance for the widows of poor cler- implies a process, and the other a quality) gymen, raised her above all fear of actual is more the gift of nature than the producwant. But so little was it in accordance tion of aft, and thus it may be found in the with her disposition to give way to indolence cottage and wanting in the drawing room; for the present, or negligence of the fuiture, it may be disguised by the broad peculiarthat she set about with great perseverance ities of provincial dialect, and mimicked in and industry, to pursue some other mode of' vain by the mincing phraseology of the procuring an addition to her slender income, boarding school; it may exist under the For this purpose, she entered into an en- coarse and toil-worn exterior of the peasant, gagement to supply a bazaar with fancy beautifying all the tender offices of life, and needlework, and late and early did she la- giving to home charities, and domestic virbour for the scanty pittance that was tues, the charm of generous sympathy and doled out to her,-a minute fraction of the high honour; and it may be sought for whole value of the article; often, when her among all the artificial adornments of the eyes and fingers were weary with her mo- fashionable and high born, and not found, notonous employment, rousing herself again where it is most wanted, in the interchange by the hope of being able to take her boy of kindness, the conferring of benefits, and for a few weeks into the country, when he the necessary and mutual dependance of should again be liberated at the midsummer man upon his brother man. holidays. Alice Bland, and her interesting boy, were Marcus was now nearly twelve years old, not unacquainted with this feeling. They had and, in spite of the paleness of his complex- learned to watch each other's eyes, and to ion, you cou.d hardly have fbund a more know when the least shadow of anxiety or handsome or noble.ooking fellow. " So ex- care needed the gentle hand, or the kind actly like his father,"' said Alice, for she had word, to chase it away: and they knew also no higher standard of manly excellence or how to make great sacrifices, for they were beauty; but there were those, who, remem- all in all to each other; and they could each bering his father with no such partial admi- give up a darling object for the other's good, ration, would have said the son bid fair for without a sigh or a tear; in short, without being a finer man in every respect; and that betraying by the slightest difference of he was no worse for adding his mother's look or manner that it was a sacrifice. energy and decision, to his father's calmness And if, in all these little acts of self-resignaand refinement. tion, Alice bore the palm, it was not from Perhaps the reader may smile to find the any want of affection in him who was the term refinement applied to the child of a object of them, but merely because she was poor widow like Alice Bland; but refine- a woman; and we all know it is deeply imment may, and does exist sometimes in the planted in the heart of woman, to love what humble walks of life; and what is more she does love better than herself. surprising still, it is sometimes altogether Thus they lived on, the mother and the wanting where there seems to have been child, mutually ministering to each other's every thing conducive to its cultivation and enjoyment; and perhaps the absorbing ingrowth. terest which occupied their thoughts, made In talking of refinement, we are apt to them a little too forgetful of the wide world think it belongs only to the higher classes of without, and perhaps also, it left too little society; and is the result of what is called a of the warmest and tenderest feelings -f finished education, and must necessarily be the heart for devotion to higher objects. accompanied by polite accomplishments, However it might be, we know that these and polished manners. But true refinement, exclusive attachments are not permitted to (or rather delicacy of feeling, for the one exist long m this state of being, without a 19 98 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. blight; and that, from whatever quarter the the same manner, Marcus an-using himblight may come, it is directed by him who self with collecting the flowers and plants punishes in order that we may look to him with which he had long been endeavouring for reward; who wounds, that we may ask to make himself acquainted, and often sitfor healing at his hands. ting down with his pencil to sketch an old The summer came, the bright and joyful tree or village church, never dreaming how simmer, and Alice and her son left behind exquisitely all these little memorials of his them, without a sigh, the congregated thou- enjoyments would one day become, tc her sands who pant in the heated atmosphere of who was ever at his side, watching nun the metropolis, during the sweet season of with maternal fondness, and dwelling with the springing of flowers in the green field, something of prophetic interest, upon every and the singing of birds in the waving and development of his clear and comprehensive shadowy branches of the trees. mind. They left without a sigh, for they were "I should like to die in the country," he going to renew their acquaintance with the would often say; "that birds might sing over face of nature; a face like that of an old my grave, and green grass grow all around friend, early known, and dearly loved, and me. Mother, did you ever look into that litmingled in fond recollections with all their tie churchyard at the end of the street where favourite themes of thought and conversa- we used to live in the city? Don't lay me tion. there when I am dead, for I think I could not A kind acquaintance resident in Kent, had rest under those hot stones and dusty netengaged for them a small cottage in the ties." And then his mother's eyes would fill most picturesque part of that country; and with tears, for she saw more clearly every when the coach stopped at the door, they day that one prevailing thought was giving sprang from it as if they were expecting to an unnatural solemnity to his young mind, meet a home welcome. Every thing around and throwing over his early years the deep looked so green, so fresh, so cool and quiet, shadows of premature decay. that their hearts were filled with gratitude, Still they were happy-happy as those and they longed to offer thanks to some hu- who sit down for one uninterrupted hour of man being, who might be feeling like them- cheerful, and intimate, and confidential conselves. But no! there had been no kind verse, before a long, long separation. But hand busy with the work of preparation;- the boy gathered no strength in the country, no living creature in that remote situation and the mother found there was more and knew of their existence until the week pre- more need for her to shelter under the shadceding, nor cared for their comfort and ac- ow of the mighty Rock, for that life would commodation, when they did know; and soon be to her a weary land. they soon fiound that thanks were only due Oh! it needs religion to reconcile us to the to that Power, who spreadeth out the heav- thought of death! ens as a canopy, and maketh the earth a garden, in which man may find all that can delight his senses, and fill his soul with admiration. Nor were they forgetful of the duty of acknowledging his mercies; CHAPTER ViI. for when tlhe evening came, they knelt down together, and with united hearts IT was not many weeks after the retuirn f offered up the tribute of their thankfulness the widow with her son to the city that sle and joy. found it necessary to call in medical advice; The next day they rambled free and un- for he was evidently sinking fast; and though controlied, and day after day they spent in she had little faith that human skill could THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 99 save him, she determined that nothing should when I am gone, you will be left entirely be spared which might lessen the suffering alone." of his last days. Alice turned away her face, but she was His complaint was pronounced to be one able to answer with a clear voice, " There is under which he might linger for some time; no loneliness, my child, where God is." but little encouragement was held out to "I know it mother; I know that God is hope for his ultimate recovery. The poor every-where, and that he will not turn away boy, however, was not destined to pine away from those who call upon his name; but the victim of protracted suffering. His dis- there are times when we cling to a kind ease made rapid progress, and he was soon hand, and listen to a voice that is sweeter so much an invalid, as to be compelled to than music, and feel that we cannot bear to keep his bed; and then his mother felt doub- be alone. Who will meet you at the door ly thankful that she had removed him from when you come home? who will pray with the close and dismal apartments which they you at night? and oh! my mother, when you first occupied; for now they could look out are ill, or in sorrow, who will sit beside your upon the blue sky, and see the brightness of bed, and watch you so tenderly as you are the morning sun upon the branches of a wil- watching me Ill low and a laburnum, which grew beside "My child," replied his mother, "we must their window; where Alice had her little not venture upon these minute enquiries, ingarden of mignionette in a narrow box, con- to what we are capable or not capable of taining all her property in the wide realm of enduring. Who could love as I have lovmother earth. ed, and bear to lose what I must lose, if, It was on the first day of September, that when the account was closed, each individueventful day when the heart of the sports- al item of the great sum of affection should man bounds with delight, as he gathers up be counted over, and its weight and value his forces, and sets off with "slaughtering estimated after it was gone for ever. It is gun;" himself and his dogs uniting upon one for those who suffer, and feel their own weakcommon level, for one purpose, and with one ness, to endeaVour so to journey along the feeling, to disturb the stillness of the desert- pilgrimage of life, that their steps may neithed harvest fields, taint the pure air of a fine er be impeded by the stones and stumblingautumnal morning, and break in upon the blocks that lie scattered in their path; nor led peace of the most harmless and unprotected astray by the flowers that grow by the wayof earth's creatures: it was on this day that side: and in order to do this, it is necessary Alice Bland sat at the window of her quiet to keep our eyes fixed stedfastly upon the chamber, sometimes looking out upon the star of promise, the only star that is never yellow leaves flattering for a moment in the lost in clouds. Wounded and broken as I buoyant air, and then settling amongst their am, and lonely as I shall soon be, my heart withered companions upon the bosom of that is yet supported by faith; not the presumpcommon parent, who offers a last refuge to tuous faith that a miracle will be wrought in the fallen, the faded, and the forlorn; and my favour; that I shall be preserved from then turning her anxious gaze upon him of sickness and sorrow, or that celestial spirits whom the autumn leaves were but too true will be sent down to smooth my dying pilan emblem. low; but the humble faith that he, in whom He had been sleeping for some hours, and I put my trust, will so temper the feelings of when he aWoke, he asked his mother to come my soul, that while I endure the common lot nearer. "Sit down beside me," said he, of humanity, I shall not feel as I have done, " upon my bed, and let me hold your, hand. such entire dependence upon the sweet symDear mother, I have been thinking, that pathies of kindred minds; but that, when i ~- ~.... ~,....,;, ~.~.~. ~,.... 100 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. come to the last hours of my solitary life, I Alice had no assistant in the work of preshall be supported above all weak longings, paration. All day she occupied that silent even for thy care and kindness, mny beloved chamber, with the $.eling of one who stands child; and sustained by the undying hope of upon a small and solitary island, in the midst entering into that realm of happiness, where of the wide ocean, and will not step into his I trust thy father is, and where thou wilt frail boat before the hour appointed for him soon be." to launch forth alone upon the boundless ex" You are right, mother," replied her son; panse of friendless and inhospitable waters. "we wil. talk of these things no more. God And when the night came, she had no weak is all-sufficient;" and then he lifted up his fears, nor fantastic visions of wandering hands, and his weak voice, and prayed earn- spirits; but drew closer in the darkness to estly that his mother might be made the pe- the bed-side, until wearied nature sank under culiar care of her Almighty Father; that her the long vigil, and sleep drew around her the earthly trials might not be long, and that curtain of forgetfulness. they might soon meet, where there should It was but for a few brief days and nights be no more tears, and no more separation. that Alice could be permitted to sit and gaze Three days after this conversation took upon her last earthly treasure; and oh! how place, Alice Bland was sitting, at the same solemn was the dawn of each succeeding hour, in the same chamber, and beside the morning as it rose upon the living and the same bed, on which a long extended figure dead! How silently the still evening closed lay, in the stillness of everlasting repose. around! Yet in that sweet hour,. when the The sweet calm of unbroken serenity was husbandman returns from the field of labour, upon his features, and his white hands were when the cattle are driven down from the stretched out in motionless and marble cold- hills, and the sheep are gathered into the ness by his side-his hands, on which the fold; when the weary bird flies back to the mother's eyes were fixed; for oh! how well woods, and covers her nestlings with her could she remember the many days and brooding wings; when the mother smoothes nights, when those fingers, warm and pliant, the pillow of her child, and presses on its and gentle, in their infantine tenderness, had rosy cheek her farewell kiss; when all the played upon her cheek; how distinctly could softening influences of domestic peace and she recall each varying expression of that home affection are drawn around the heart; fair countenance, as of a book, every line of -even in that sweet hour, Alice uttered no which was engraven upon her heart, in cha- lamentation, and the tears that chased each racters indelible and clear, though the origi- other down her cheeks, were not tears of renal page was sealed for ever. pining: for she had not been one of those But let not rude and unhallowed fingers who leave the commencement of the great attempt to lift the veil that is drawn over the and important work until the time when sacred altar of a mother's love. This vene- there is urgent need for its full and entire rated shrine offers no wonderful exhibition to completion; who enter the vineyard to feast the gaze of the curious observer; but here, upon the grapes, having never pruned the as to the altars of old, the weary, and the vines; who go forth into the harvest-field to wounded, fly from the arrows of persecution reap, having never sown the precious seed. for safety and protection. Here the tears of In the spring time of her life, in the morning the penitent may flow in peace; here the of her days, she had diligently sought the frailties upon which the world would trample true fountain; and now, when every other in disdain, may find a cloak; and here, the draught was turned to bitterness, she found erring wanderer, who has made shipwreck and felt the efficacy of the waters of everlastof his hopes, may return to the welcome of a ing life. home. A second time Alice Bland stood a deep THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 101 and solitary mourner by the side of the clos- may fly for healing, and the weary for reing grave. Over her pale features was pose. spread the calmness of resignation; and How thankful, then, ought we to be for this none of the surrounding throng of lookers on mingling of earthly affections with heavenly; knew, or cared to know, with what feelings this lightening of the task of duty: this she turned away, when the last solemn rites sweetening, of the cup of self-denial! and were over, from that little churchyard-not how deep, how sincere, should be our pity the noisy space of ground allotted to the bu- for those unto whom this merciful dispensarial of the dead, which her son had so often tion is not extended, unto whom it is decreed, spoken of with disgust and horror; but a by the wisdom that erreth not, that they shall quiet resting-place, one they had fixed upon journey through the wilderness alone; unto together during their last walk into the coun- whom the sentence bas gone forth, " Behold! try. Here she had stood beside the grave, I will take away the desire of thine eyes as not only the chief, but the sole mourner; and with a stroke!" here she left with her buried treasure all the In this situation the Christian is most hopes and the affections which bound her to severely tried; for here no earthly encourthis troubled life. agement is held out, and whatever is done From this now sacred spot of earth, Alice must be done purely for the love of God, for returned to her home. —Home! what is the pleasure of obeying his law, and walking home? Surely there must be something in his ways. more than a hired tenement to constitute a In order more fully to illustrate the nature home; but Alice had in this wide world no- of true resignation, and more clearly to exthing more. Happy-happy is it for those emplify what ought to be the state of the who feel that their home is "an habitation not human mind under this trial, it will be nemade with hands, eternal in the heavens!" cessary to trace the progress of the humble The Christian character is almost univer- individual whose character has been here sally described as one which is, and must be, described, one step farther on her path of pa.at variance with what is commonly denomi- tience and fortitude. For this purpose let nated the world; consequently, the Christian us look in upon the childless widow in her church is called the church militant, -and the solitude. Let us imagine her on the day Christian himself is often spoken of as one following that of the funeral, solitary, but not who is compelled to fight the good fight. inactive; for Alice busied herself with examAll the good lessons which we learn from ining each article of the personal property our infancy, our observations upon the world which her son had left; and though her eyes in general, the experience of every day, and were sometimes so dimmed with tears that the precepts of the holy scriptures, combine she could hardly read the different labels he to teach us that the utmost stretch of faith, had placed upon all his school prizes, and and perseverance, and watchfulness, and his memorials of affection and early companzeal, are necessary to protect us against the ionship, she still went on, leaving out whatmastery of evil passions within, and the ever she thought might be more valuable to temptations of the world without. It is, how- others than to herself; though it was a hard ever, graciously permitted to us, in almost thing to part even with his wardrobe, now every situation in life, to enjoy the consola- that she was so desolate and forlorn. This tion of human help; to have some star or duty, moreover, was faithfully gone through, stars in our own low sphere to light us on and Alice sat down to spend the evening our way; some kind voice to cheer us on alone; —alone, and without employment: for our pilgrimage; some home of welcome in when she laid down her bible, and would the hearts we love, where the wounded have taken up her work, the thought that 102 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. she had now no longer any one to work for, diligently and faithfully through the whole seemed to paralyze her fingers, and throw a process of instruction; while visiters flocked chain of icy coldness upon every effort to in to see, and ladies made their comments, rouse herself for active exertion. and the wonders and prases of the new It was not long, however, that Alice per- establishment spread far and wide. mitted her spirit to sink under the pressure It was no difficult thing to discover that of unmitigated affliction. "It is;he will of Alice was a trusty servant, and, as such, she my heavenly Father," said she, "that I was valued and approved; but no one knew should bear my burden alone; and with what her heart had suffered, or was then his help I will not faint by the way; there suffering; nor why when the school was must yet be some field of usefulness open closing, she would often single out a little for me, or my soul would be required of me. dark-haired boy, whose pale complexion and I will still labour in his vineyard, though my soft shadowy eyelashes gave him an air of strength should be as that of the bruised melancholy and languor, and often, walking reed; I will still worship at his altar, though home with him to his mother's door, would my only offering should be a broken heart." stand there until she saw him comfortably With such feelings, strengthened into res- seated at his own fireside, and then turn olution by earnest and continual prayer, away to take a long solitary ramble by the Alice set about to prepare for a change in sea-shore. her occupations and her place of abode.- Yet the character of Alice Bland was not Having heard that a mistress was wanted one that was capable of remaining long unfor an infant school in a distant part of the known. Though unobtrusive in her charicountry, she offered her services, and was ties, and limited in her means, she was so appointed as a decent, useful looking woman, unbounded in her desire to be useful, that by those who thought they were conferring neither time nor opportunity seemed wantupon her a favour. ing; and it Was a common reply with her, Here let us observe how little is known by to the apologies of those who feared they those who flatter themselves they are dispen- might be making too great a claim upon her sing favours —how very little is known of the kindness, "Don't think of that. I am a lone misery which the necessity of being the ob- woman. I have no ties at home, and thereject of them, sometimes inflicts upon the re- fore I am the more fit to be serviceable to ceiver: thus we complain of ingratitude, be- others. To him who has given me health cause our bounties are not seized with avid- and strength, and a few kind feelings, I ity, and acknowledged with delight; when have to render an account; and blessed be in reality each act of beneficence, upon his holy name, I am supported through every which we pride ourselves, has been gall and day by the consolations of his love. I am a bitterness to those who were compelled by weak instrument it is true; but then there is circumstances to accept it. the more need that I should diligently watch, Alice had no natural inclination for the and earnestly embrace every opportunity of situation, nor for the line of life which she offering my mite. It is not the magnitude had chosen, and would rather have shrunk of our good actions by which we hope to be away from the arduous task twhich she had saved; it is the feelings from which they imposed upon herself; but it seemed more arise, and the spirit in which they are perdesirable to her to enter at once upon the formed, that are the test of obedience." field of active and imperative duties, than to In this spirit, the spirit of Christian love, leave her inclination time to wander, and the poor widow persevered in the path of make its own selection amongst those which duty. Filled with this spirit, she laid aside were merely optional. She therefore, took all weak lamentations and fruitless repinher place amongst the little throng, and went ings. Encouraged by this spirit, she kept THE CURATE'S WIDOW. 103 perpetually in view the blessed goal, where by this spirit, she journeyed patiently along she already beheld, in imagination, the souls the pilgrimage of life, and was enabled, at of her departed robed in white. Supported the end, to lay down the burden of the flesh, by this spirit, she became a prop to the fee- rejoicing with the gladness of the captive ble, and a comfort to the needy Inspired who leaves his prison-house. MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE.* Yes, lie deserves to find himself deceived, Who seeks a heart in the unthinking man. Like shadows on a stream the forms of life Impress their characters on the smooth forehead, Nought sinks into the bosom's silent depth; Quick sensibility of pain and pleasure Moves the light fluids lightly; but no soul, Warmeth the inner frame. WALLENSTEIN. IT is a common and popular plan, in wri- to give, of that most lamentable of all calating what is called an autobiography, to ac- mities-most irreparable of all misfortunes, count in some plausible manner for the way -an "ill assorted marriage." in which the pretended manuscript has fallen You who have shared in the pleasures into the author's hands. On the present oc- and pursuits of my youth, are aware that casion, however, the picture that is presented my life was unmarked by any incident of to the public, offers so little either of the ex- sufficient interest to strike the attention of traordinary or the marvellous, that it appears an impartial reader; notwithstanding I was quite unnecessary to introduce it under any distinguished for my quickness at school, and other character than that of a confidential regarded as a prodigy of genius at home. communication from one lady to another. Early deprived of the blessing of maternal care, and left at the age of sixteen to the Painful as it may be to bequeath to poste- unrestrained indulgence of myc own tastes rity a record of our own errors, the heart and caprices, I set about with the most vorathat is deeply interested in the well-being of cious appetite, to feast upon that species of society, will think the instruction of even one literature that was most in unison with a of the rising generation cheaply purchased sensitive and undisciplined mind, and most by its own exposure. conducive to the growth of that morbid meTo you, the friend of my early years, I lancholy which has followed me through life; submit this manuscript, with strict injunc- restraining the aspirations of hope, weighing tions to keep it secret until I and mine sh1ll down the energies of resolution, and damphave ceased to suffer the agonies of wound- ing the feeble fire of a lukewarm faith. In ed feeling. You maynotoutliveus,or if you the spring-time of life, when the heart is should, your judgment is now too mature, most capable of enjoyment, I was conseand your walk in life has ever been too cir- quently wretched. I was told reproachfully, cumspect for you to reap any advantage that it was the absence of religion which from my experience. But you have daugh- made me so, and I began to "believe end ters: and may they read with charity, and tremble." wisely profit by the history which I am about In my father's house we had no religious The writer of this story wou-d be sorry to draw upon herself the suspicion of having placed a worthless individual in the situation of a Clergyman of the Church of England, for the purpose of throwing an air of disrespect over that particular religious body. With creeds she holds no controversy,-for parties professes no preference. Her apology must be, that in painting from private life, she has delineated no traits of character which she has not seen, nor delinquency of conduct with which she has not been acquainted. MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 105 exercises. The gay and the worldly-minded the flattery of the woman, I gently declined sought our society, and with these I was his proposals, pitied him, spoke of friendconstantly associated; until I felt like a be- ship, called myself his sister, and the thing ing who is carried away against his inclina- went on as such things usually do. tion by the mere press of a crowd, with All this while, however, my heart was ill which he holds neither sympal' y nor com- at ease. I felt like one who goes into the mon feeling. field of battle, bearing the banner of his Amongst those who frequently sat at my cause, without having learned to defend it. father's table, was a young man of excel- If we build our religion upon a false founlent disposition, whose light and easy man- dation, we make but a sorry edifice. Mine ners won upon us all, and made him friends was a temple in which I found neither shelfor the moment, with every description of ter nor repose, but rather a fantastic fabric, character that happened to be brought in whose dizzy pinnacles threatened to fall and contact with his own. He was undergoing crush me in their ruins. Thus my days the process of preparation for the church, passed on. If I began to converse on relithough still but a boy, when we first met; gion, I often concluded by listening to love; but he had read poetry, and been taught at and night invariably found me listless,weary, high schools, and flirted with a young wi- and unsatisfied. My pupil, too, began to exdow; and just for present pastime was very hibit points of character, of which I had not much at my service, either as a butt, a lover, before suspected him. There was a degree or a convert. As a butt, I first tried him, of wounded pride with which he listened to and found him the liveliest, wittiest, and best my repeated refusals to become his wife, tempered creature in the world; as a lover, that frequently urged him on to the manly I did not allow myself to ask what he might revenge of determined inebriation; while be; but as a convert,-I triumphed in the many of my enemies, and some of my thought. Here was a field for my energies friends, wondered at and blamed me, for my to work in. His good heart,-his habits of intimacy with a being so unrestrained and dissipation,-his deference for, and evidently desperate. Still it was no easy thing to growing attachment to myself,-what vain break entirely asunder the chain which woman, building her eternal hopes upon the linked us together, for all his best hopes frail reeds of self-righteousness, could resist both for this world and the next seemed a temptation like this? It was too much for bound up with me: and I had the vanity to me. believe, that in casting him off, I should For some time I was made happy in the most probably consign him to everlasting confidence that I should obtain the reward perdition. of having saved a " soul from sin;" for my Surrounded by dangers and quicksands promising protege, though led away by gay on every hand, it never once occurred to me companions, always came back to me in his that I was pursuing a wrong course; but hours of penitence, and a hopeful and inter- still I determined to struggle through, though esting charge I had; until the hope, if not I felt myself plunging deeper and deeper the interest, was somewhat abated, by my at every fruitless attempt; and when time young friend proposing himself to me as and experience brought me to my senses, my future husband. it was too late to extricate myself from I own I was a good deal surprised, that the difficulties in which I was involved. he who had always acknowledged such an In this manner years passed away. —My immense inferiority on moral and religious lover was confirmed in his habits of dissipagrounds, should now esteem himself a fitting tion, and my friends had some of them behelpmate for me in the pilgrimage of life: come enemies, loud in their declamations but, forgiving the presumption of the boy in against me, though I observed that when 106 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. ever they had an opportunity of receiving I know not how it is, but there are times his attentions, they were disposed to be any when affection wins upon us with tenfold thing but uncharitable towards him. power. I had been willing to leave my Disappointed in all my hopes, and hem- home connections, almost entirely for the med in by difficulties, I endeavoured to seek sake of escaping from all associations with from the only true source, that help which I him whose destiny seemed to be myste, ought to have solicited at an earlier stage of riously linked with my own; but he bore the my b.ind and foolish career. I believe I alteration in my prospects so nobly, and then, was sincere; but, if I recollect right, I when he found me left behind and neglected prayed more earnestly that I might be extri- came forward so generously with the same cated from my present perplexities, than as- offer of faithful and unalterable attachment sisted to bend down my spirit in meekness which I had so often rejected, that while my and resignation, to the trials and troubles spirit writhed under the recent smart, while which followed as natural and inevitable I fancied myself shut out from all help, either consequences of the course I had chosen for human or divine, I was the more reckless myself. what I sacrificed for the sake of helping You remember the tale of my being likely others, and in an evil hour I promised to beto marry a gentleman at that time residing come his wife. abroad. It occupied a good deal of our Never shall I forget that day. It was in thoughts and feelings; but neither you nor the month of December. A slight sprinkling any other of my friends knew the reasons of half-melted snow lay on the ground. A which induced me to consent to such a step. shrewd friend was staying with me, whose As regards the individual, he did not inter- quick eye seemed to pierce into the secret est me deeply, only as he was connected recesses of my heart. "All things pertainwith my hopes of emancipation from the ing" to that time are written upon my memthraldom of evil. I believed and still believe ory, with a depth and distinctness not to be him to be an amiable character; but there described; for such was the agony to which were circumstances connected with our se- my feelings were wrought, that I almost paration which did not reflect much credit wondered how the common affairs of human on his name. My friends, consequently, con- life could go on, without any one taking note gratulated me, and said, I had had an es- of my calamity. But so it was. cape; while others laughed and said, I had I will not here trouble you with a relation had a disappointment. I tried to bear it of what took place preparatory to my melanwith an air of philosophy, but all my efforts choly union with one whose joy was beyond were vain. As regards the man, the case bounds, nor how keenly I felt the altered was comparatively neither aggravated nor looks and constrained behaviour of those cruel, for such things occur every day; but whom I knew to be in their hearts despising from a Christian friend-from one in whose me. Had they spoken freely, I could have society I had hoped to find benefit and in- borne it better; for then there would have struction, I felt the blow, and almost fancied been something like a respite in their silence; that my God had forsaken me. I had been but from this mute but perfectly intelligible buoyed up with the prospect of a happy and kind of reproach, the heart has no intervals lasting union with one who would be willing of relief; and I rejoiced at the coming of that and able to direct my steps aright, with day, after which I should be able to say to what he persuaded me was a call to serious my conscience, " the Rubicon is now passed," and imperative duties, away from the temp- I have no longer the power to return. It tations which had long beset my path; but came at last; and I set off with my young now, my spirit was smitten down and pros- husband to spend the honey-moon amongst trate in the midst cf its own desolation. the lakes and mountains of Cumberland. MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 107 After deliberately taking what we firmly tification of hearing a cordial invitation for believe to be a wrong step, we not unfre- him to dine with us, as cordially accepted. quently endeavour to console ourselves, and Nay, he was even kind enough to join us in to quiet the whisperings of self-reproach, by our ramble by the side of the lake, and when doing double duty immediately afterwards; we called for a boat he very readily stepped and, in this way, I diligently set about to in, and sat down beside us. It was not dlffiwork that reformation in my husband's heart cult to assign a character to my new acquamand character, which I had promised myself tance, a character more frequently found should be the happy termination of my than admired; for although college slang Christian labours. was the only medium through which he conFor a short time every thing went on plea- descended to convey his ideas, I understood santly enough, for we had no one to interrupt enough and more than enough, even from our gravity; his mind seemed willingly to what was to me an unknown tongue. He take the tone of mine; and it was not diffi- was the son of a London silk mercer, and cult under such circumstances to draw forth bore about with him the certificate of his even from him the often repeated quotation pedigree so clearly stamped upon his counabout looking tenance, that you could scarcely look at him without picturing his father, the keen trades"From Nature up to Nature's God." man, glancing over his ledger, and his aunts The first sabbath that we spent was at a and cousins running about from house to small town on the banks of one of the most house, and from neighbour to neighbour, colpicturesque lakes in this delightful country; lecting receipts for sweet cakes, gravies, and and here, thought I, we shall be able to ac- home-made wines. Not but that knowledge the sweet influence of peace, to "A man's a man for a' that." enjoy communion with our own and each other's hearts, and to worship in the house But the descendant of this noble house enof God together deavoured to distinguish himself by talking Perhaps I need not own to you that the about the ocyyo,n * and swearing at waiters, prospect of being the wife of a clergyman, and looking big at inns, for he was evidently was the most powerful reason for my con- unacquainted with any other kind of greatsenting to become Mrs. Henry Wilton; and ness. At such a time, and in such a place, the gravity and apparent attention with I could scarcely have been brought into conwhich I now saw my husband conduct him- tact with a being more repulsive to me, and self during the service was a great solace to what made his society infinitely more intolmy heart. I had always considered that his erable was, to see my husband completely hiogh office would impose a wholesome re- led out of his better self, sharing in the vulstraint upon him, and that the respect e gar volubility of this heartless, mindless, was accustomed to evince for the obser- mockeryofaman. vances of religion, would draw him away Relieved by any thing which brought a from all evil communications. Alas! I had change, I was glad to return to the inn, and never reflected, perhaps I had never observ- here, while the pleasures of the tablewere ed, how frail, and worse than frail, are all prolonged, I was compelled to listen to oftenoutward observances, when the thoughts and feelings of an unsubdued nature are For an unlearned writer to make use of a Greek word, may well be thought a piece of unpardonable preriotinr within. sumption; but surely the same apology may be repeated On our return from church we were met -that of painting from private life-from the number of by a young man of no very promising aspect, young men in the middle classes of society, who think that a college education entitles them to make use of this who saluted my husband with the familiarity expression to distinguish themselves from the common of a college acquaintance, and I had the mor- people. 108 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE repeated and common-place enconiums on had just submitted myself; and as a Chrismy husband's good taste, interrupted only by tian, accountable to an unerring and Althe good taste of the viands, and the differ- mighty Judge, the thought was still more ent wines in which they both appeared deeply dreadfil. Despicable and disgusting picinterested. In fact they were dining so tures of the future presented themselves much to their mutual satisfaction, that I felt to my mind; degrading associations, low no scruple m making my exit at a very early thoughts, and gloomy forebodings fell upon period of the entertainment, informing my me with a deadly weight; until with the husband as I passed him, that I should spend feeling that they were rapidly becoming the evening upon the water. more than I could bear, and glad of any "Take care of yourself," said he, with thing that might divert me from myself, I many of those endearing expressions which told the boatman to row me back to the people are wont to use when their hearts are shore, almost unconscious of what I either not entirely with you, "and we will join you said or did. in the course of half an hour." Here I was not met, as I had anticipated, There are few things that make a plain and I sauntered on, solitary and' musing, not man look plainer than an expression about unfrequently stopping to admire the flowery the face which reminds you of dinner and gardens, and the pretty cottages wreathed wine, and when I turned away from the door all over with garlands of beauty. The of the apartment, but more especially when scent of innumerable roses, the freshness of on passing it again, I heard peals of laughter the air, the exercise, the sight of happy and from within, I could not help wishing with a healthy faces, and the many social groups sigh, that it was possible to love my husband gathered together in the fond enjoyment of better. a day of rest, brought me back to something The book which I selected for the cornm- like a sense of pleasure; and I returned to panion of my rambles, was Milton's Para- the Inn just as the afternoon was waning dise Lost, and in these delightful pages I into evening, quite disposed to make the lost myself for a while, carried away, as it best of every thing. were, from the realities of earth, up to a With this determination I opened the higher sphere of intellectual and pure enjoy- door of the dining-room, not doubting but ment. From some inexplicable cause, how- I should find my husband overjoyed at my ever, as if the chain of imagination had return. snapped asunder, I suddenly awoke to the May I ask you, my friend, if you have full consciousness of my own situation. Above ever gone suddenly from the pure atmosme was an almost cloudless sky, with the phere of a summer's day, from the fanning sun gradually declining towards his golden of the breezes that play over the lake, and couch, far in the west. Around me was the sport with the spray of the waterfall, and magnificence of nature; the summits of the dance upon the tops of the mountains, and mountains bathed in radiance; and nearer, sleep in the valleys amongst bowers of rosethe woods, and islands, and grassy slopes, leaves; have you ever gone suddenly from clothed with summer's richest drapery; the freshness of such enjoyment, into a dinwhile all were reflected in the glassy mirror ing-room that has not been opened for three of the peaceful water, over which I was hours after dinner? Now this was exactly silently gliding; and in the midst of this what I did on the afternoon of a Sabbath region of repose and loveliness, what was I? day, after sailing on the lake, and reading As a being created for immortality, and Milton. And there sat my husband with a endued with feelings, and powers and capa- flushed and dizzy look-not certainly intoxibilities of a high and intellectual nature, I cated-he would have been horror-struck at darid not contemplate the yoke to which I the thought, but with all that was most MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 109 gross and despicable in his nature laid bare peace, before his ear was startled by the first upon his brow. Not intoxicated certainly; falsehood? but just so much deranged by the lowest It is not so much the direct character of a kind of excitement, that he had almost en- lie to which I am now alluding, though hatetlrely lost his self-possession, and that lively ful, and vile, and sinful in itself; it is its diretact with which he could sometimes play ful consequences, felt as they are, not only off an assumed part; and thus, when he in the inner chambers, the secret recesses declared that he had been ten times down to of the heart, but on through all the chain of the water to look for me, he betrayed him- human fellowship, to the extremest bounself by a knowing wink at his companion, daries which separate man from the brute which seemed to say, "This is the way to creation. Nor is the first falsehood a stain manage a wife." that can be soon wiped off; an error that can Long and intimate association with evil be easily redeemed. The best atonement has somewhat seared my natural feelings to we can make to each other, is a free acknowthat quick sense of transgression on the part ledgement of our transgression; but even of others, which I once had, yet not so en- after this, we see and feel that we are " faltirely but that I have a vivid recollection of len from our high estate," from the safe the intense agony I suffered from the repeti- ground which we occupied in the affections tion of this falsehood, trifling as it was in of those around us. every respect, except that of its own base Can the wife ever ask counsel again of the nature. husband of her choice, after she has detectOf all that comes across our path in the ed him in the first falsehood? Can the husrough and varied journey of life, there can band ever look again with perfect satisfacbe nothing more deadly and dissevering to tion upon the countenance of his wife, after the social affections which bind us to each the first falsehood has polluted her lip? other, than the first falsehood. When the Alas! no! A barrier has been broken down, trusting and unpractised youth goes forth and the waves of sin and sorrow roll in upon into the world, fresh from the shelter of the their paradise of domestic enjoyment. paternal home, and strong in the early in- When the mother looks into the face of stilled principles of truth, perhaps he is con- her child and sees there, instead of the sweet signed to the oversight, and protection of the open confidence of truth, the bright eye cast avaricious, or the worldly-minded, and here down with shame, and the rosy lip trembling he learns for the first time-learns with hor- beneath its burden of deceit, her heart faints ror and dismay, that in order to maintain within her, as she beholds for the first time what is called a respectable standing in so- " the trail of the serpent," amidst the loveliciety, to combat with the difficulties, the com- ness of her own Eden. And oh! if she to petitions, and the tricks of trade, to obtain whom belongs this holy name, could even " that bread which perisheth," it-is thought dare to violate by falsehood the sancity of necessary by mankind in general, to deceive, her high title, I could almost think, that not evade, and circumvent, and too frequently to only the besom of destruction would sweep sacrifice entirely the fair principles of honest away the happy circle from her hearth, but dealing. Let me ask, whether, after such that her guardian angel, thenceforth abandaily contemplation of the lowest prostration doning his trust, would bear the melancholy of the human soul, he would not at times tidings up to the highest heaven, where the be willing to give all his acquired posses- cherubs that wing their happy flight around sions to be able to return to the innocence the throne, would veil their faces and weep. of his early years, and to feel again the cbnfi- But to return to my story. I need hardly dence with which he could once sit down say that after the scene I have described, I and look around him in simplicity and had little satisfaction in rambling through 110 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIVE. the delightful country in which Ihad promised were scrupulously selected and arranged, myself so much enjoyment; for it was easy to arid his white bands lay smooth under his see that my husband was not exactly in his chin; but there vas no srtloothness on his e.ement, and that his heart went not along brow, for he knew and felt that he Was too with me in mry admiration of the beauties of late, and that every one was thinking him so; nature, whether simple or sublime; we there- a feeling well calculated to ruffle the counfore cut short our sentimental tour, and turn- tenance, as well. as the temper, prompting to ed our course towards our future home, a childish peevishness and petty revenge where from the anxiety which he evinced to upon shoe-strings, hot coffee, grooms, horses, enter upon his pastoral duties, I felt confident and wives. Of course we had no time for I should see his character exhibited in a family prayer, a duty which we had decided more favourable point of view. I did not the day before should never be interfered then know that the opportunity of displaying with byany other consideration. Nor indeed a bombastic sort of eloquence upon which could I have well endured such a mockery he prided himself, was the grand charm in my lord and master's present state of which these duties possessed; and that the mind; so we set off together with a spirited soundness and safety of a favourite hunter, well-fed horse, enlivened all the way by rearupon which he had made some tremendous ing, prancing, driving, and slashing over a bets, were of more importance to him than dirty high road. It was but a short distance the study of cloud capped mountains, silvery to the village church, which stood embowerlakes, rich verdant woods, and foaming ed in a beautifully wooded valley, but the waterfalls. Rev. Henry Wilton esteemed it derogatory The home upon which I entered had every to his importance to be seen walking over thing in its appearance both within and with- the green fields, through which we might out, to invite a weary spirit to repose; and have passed by a cool, pleasant, and much I sat down, well pleased to be mistress of a shorter way. parsonage house. My husband, naturally On entering the church, where the conkind-hearted, was delighted with my evident gregation had already been waiting some satisfaction, and in this frame of mind he time, I observed my husband slacking his readily agreed to a variety of rules, and sti- pace, and assume an air of tenfold majesty, pulations, which I proposed to him for the that was but little in keeping with his juvefuture regulation of our domestic economy. nile appearance, and the jocund air, and Amongst these, I insisted upon our never playful manner, which he seemed formed to visiting or receiving visiters on a Saturday; wear for in a situation high and important as his, I thought it necessary to have that day ex- Oh! wad some power tie giftie gie as,.tn ~~~~. ~~~~~~To see ourselves as others see -us"elusively devoted to preparation for the Sabbath; and as all his occupations were pain- thought I, as he ascended the steps of fully prolonged by indolence and procrasti- the pulpit; and then, when I tried to turn nation, I found it difficult enough, even with my attention to more serious things, there my assistance, to accomplish the concoction came, instead of the ridiculous, images that of a sermon on the following day. It was were still more repulsive, and texts of scripcompletedhoweve-, grammatically arranged ture presented themselves. burdened with and put together, (for I cannot say that we deep and poignant reproof, such as " They composed it,) by one o'clock on Sunday made me keeper of the vineyards, but mine morning, and at half past nine my husband own vineyard have I not kept;" so that, crept down stairs in his slippers to a cold although the service was got through with breakfast, which had been waiting for him tolerably well, I felt that I, at any rate, had more than an hour. His rings, his dress, not been ministered unto, and hoped that MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 111 others had been more favoured. Without ed at home, but I soon discovered that my having added one mite to that peace of mind husband's natural and undisguised antipawhich I so much needed, I turned away thy to intellectual and scientific pursuits, in from the house of prayer, where, for any short, to any thing that required the least edification that I had received, there might exercise of mind, was very likely to become as well have been the " tables of the money something like hatred of the individuals who changers, and them that sold doves." How- thus possessed the power of throwing him ever, it was a gratification to my natural and his small attainments into shade. Not vanity) to be the well-dressed wife of a cler- that he was altogether ignorant or illiterate. gyman, and I lifted high my head, taking In many of the popular works of the day he care to bend it occasionally with graceful was well versed, as well as in magazines condescension to the poor and needy, as I and reviews belonging to the party for which, passed them by. as a staunch supporter of church and state, tWhat a strange compound is our nature! he professed a sort of boisterous attachment. when we do not acknowledge, nay, we hard- Besides, he had an excellent memory, and ly feel our own want of all rational, substan- could spout pompous passages from plays; tial, and healthy support, so long as we can often, when I wished to talk seriously, going wear the trappings of greatness, and the off as Othello, upsetting the chairs and tables world does not look in and see the emptiness in the thundering rant of King Riehard, and beneath. And yet, we scarcely live through subsiding into the majestic madness of old a single day, sometimes not through a single Lear. But this was nothing for my private hour, without pointing at the abuses, the gratification, (still less was it in public,) and inconsistencies, the fallibilities, the abomina- then, as to the wonders of the animal kingtions of that world, from which we are at the dom, the varieties of climate, the study of same time concealing our faults, even the plants, minerals, and fossils, as well as the most trifling, by every possible subterfuge, history of the creation in general, he was so and evasion; sparing neither time nor trouble, thoroughly and blindly ignorant, that he had cost nor comfort, pains nor patience, to ac- scarcely patience to listen with common cicomplhsh our purpose. Nor do we ever vility when such were the subjects of converkneel down in prayer, open our bibles, or sation in his presence. I had, it is true, obconverse on holy themes, without acknowl- served this peculiarity long before I married, edging the justice, the purity) and the ora- but then he had such a lively and humorous nipotence of that lpower, before whose all- manner of turning the discourse, such a burseeing eye we dare deliberately to violate lesque way of appearing, if possible, more the laws which he has laid down for the mer- ignorant than he really was, that the imporciful government of his creatures. tance of his deficiencies was lost in the enterAmongst the numerous visiters who came tainment they afforded. But two people conon an early day to pay their compliments to fined to each other's company, hour after the bride, were a Mr. and Mrs. Ormorand, hour, and day after day, grow weary of their whose appearance and manners were well own jokes, and when this amusement was calculated to excite a wish to cultivate their entirely vanished from our fire side, I felt a acquaintance. Mr. Ormorand was a gentle- miserable blank which I would gladly have man without business, living genteelly upon filled up, as far as I could, by the society of a small income, which, with good manage- Mr. and Mrs. Ormorand. But this unfortument, was just sufficient to afford every ra- nate partiality of mine for my literary and tional gratification to an humble, yet philo- intellectual friends, was a constant source of sophic mind) and Mrs. Ormorand was in all strife and contention, not unfrequently things a fitting wife for such a character.- terminating in deliberate and determined In their society I found all that I most want- inebriety on the part of my husband. They 112 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. were, besides, dissenters, and all dissenters comparison was.so dreadful, so heart-rendwere, in his opinion, low-bred people, so that ing, so utterly devoid of all consolation. I it was almost an act of rebellion whenever I had no pursuits; for, galled and fretted as I sought the comfort of their social circle. — was, and bound up for life with a character Here, however, I was accustomed to meet so uncongenial, the mind loses the energy to with that enlargement of feeling which ex- pursue any thing, and stagnates in despair. tends, in the fellowship of brotherly love, to There was but one hope for me. To pull all the community of Christ, that charity down the religion I had built up for myself, which, "hopeth all things," that philosophy and erect another edifice upon the true which bows before religion, and brings for- foundation: but this was going to the root ward the treasures of earth, ocean, and air, of the matter in a way I had never dreamed to magnify the glory of their Creator. of, and I still continued to recoil from my To deprive myself of the advantage of bitter portion, without studying or soliciting such associations was an act of greater self- the means of rendering it more palatable. denial. than I felt equal to; but I paid dearly It seemed to me, in this state of mind, that~ for my short-lived enjoyment. no creature upon the face of the earth was In due time, however, the hunting season so wretched as myself; and I often compared came, and then my husband had sufficient my situation, surrounded by comforts which animal stimulus to supply him with good hu- I could not enjoy, to that of him who was mour even for the Ormorands, and we went doomed to perpetual thirst in the midst of on peaceably for a while, each following the water of which he was unable to drink. bent of our different inclinations. With the If the mornings which took my husband to hunting season came its worst accompani- the field were the happiest of my life, the ments, dinner parties, and drinking if not evenings of these days were the most miserto actual brutality, yet to an excess that was able; for just at that hour (the grey twilight far beyond my powers of toleration. On of a winter's evening) when those who enjoy such occasions I was accustomed to shut domestic comforts gather in to the social cirmyself up in my own chamber; but even cle, and draw around them the blessed influhere my senses were stunned, and my feel- ence of peace and love, I used to sit solitary ings shocked, by the shouts and the loud and musing, waiting the tread of a tired peals of vulgar laughter that issued from the hunter along the gravel walk beneath my dining-room. window; and then the noisy entrance of a How was it possible, after such days as blustering man, calling'with impatience for these, to call in the domestics for evening his dinner, to which he would sit down withprayer? and in the morning the aspect of out either grace or gratitude; and when his things was so little better, that in time the keen appetite was a little abated, came the custom was laid aside altogether; and we, luxury of recounting his." glorious leaps,"' who stood at the head of a clergyman's and magnificent exploits, added to that of household, might truly have acknowledged drinking my health, with the health of any to ourselves, and to each other, that we were other person, man, woman, or child, who not in a fit state to engage in the duty of fa- might " prove an excuse for the glass;" and mily prayer. then followed the deadly stupor of exhausted Wounded, weary, and disappointed, I now animal nature, with the heavy eyelids closed, sought the society of the Ormorands more and the whole face stiffened into the stupidfor a sort of' fascination which it possessed, ity of sleep. than for any solid satisfaction which it af- It is true I cannot pay myself the compliforded; indeed, had I weighed my feelings ment of saying that I endeavoured to make on returning home, I believe the balance the best of these opportunities to struggle would have been on the side of' misery; the against the disgust that was fast gaining MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 113 upon the tardy growth of my affections, or well. Nay, he may sometimes even believe to bring down my understanding to enquire his own words. But let her look to the talent whether my own internal pride of heart and that has been committed to her care, to her want of charity, and neglect of duty, might own little garden of weeds and wandering not be as culpable in the sight of Heaven, as plants, to the soil untilled, and the fruit unthose grosser vices at which I felt so indig- ripened, and ask of her own heart, where is nant. No! I made no such appeal to rea- the proof of the watchfulness, labour, and skill, son, no such inquiry of conscience, but have necessary for the cultivation of the wide often sat for hours lost in a fruitless reverie, desert that has been laid waste by the spoiler. with no other sound to cheer me than the While her own scanty harvest tells too truly deep breathing of a weary huntsman, while of careless husbandry, it would be daring my eyes were fixed upon the red embers of presumption to wish to increase her responan unstirred fire-unstirred, because I was sibility, and if she had indeed been faithful unwilling to break the repose of a sleep over that which was committed to her, she which, however annoying in itself, afforded would shrink from the unequal yoke, the felme a respite from that which was still more lowship unholy, of him who had not learned so; and in these dreamy hours what retro- to love the institutes of religion. spections came back upon my heart! bring- Mr. and Mrs. Ormorand possessed that ing again the sweet picture of my father's true liberality of feeling which delights to house, the voices of my sisters when we unite different denominations of Christians were happy girls at home, the fields where in one sacred bond of social union, esteemwe used to play, the books we read together, ing all equally who partake of the spirit of and more than these, the fresh buoyancy of their Heavenly Master. feeling, never, never to be recalled. In their society I was accustomed to meet How far my husband's character might a Lady St. Lewis, the wealthy patroness of have been improved by studious care and an active and popular party in the religious well-directed kindness, I am not able to world. Accustomed to lead direct, she say, for I acknowledge with shame and com- movedeabout with the majesty of a queen, punction that this was a trial which I never and I own it was difficult for me to believe made. Having trusted to his promise as a that true heartfelt humility could dwell belover, I was piqued and wounded by his neath such an exterior. But my friends failure as a husband, and disappointed in no assured me that she was most devoted and small degree on discovering, that neither my persevering in her endeavours to do good, influence, my wishes, nor my example, were " and if," said they, "we look for so much sufficient to win him over to a change of energy and zeal without the least mixture of heart. As if there could possibly be more evil, we must extend our views beyond this potency in the charming of a weak-woman, world. It is for us to rejoice that we have than in the daily experience of the unsatis- amongst us a distinguished female, who factory nature of mere animal enjoyment, accounts it no stigma upon her birth and the force of early instruction, and the convic- station, to stand forward in the cause of retion of natural reason. ligion." Of all those human infatuations which Perhaps the strict sectarian views of this stand fbrth in glaring and palpable mockery lady might be one reason why she always of nature, and experience, and common assumed a double share of hauteur in her sense, none can be more blind and fatally communications with me, nor was it possible delusive, than that which leads a vain wo- for me to remain utninfluenced by this pointman to believe, that by marrying a vicious ed manner, so well calculated to establish man, she shall be able to turn him from the between us a sort of.precise, cold, good beerror of his ways. It is: true he may promise haviour, which I should have been sorry in20 114 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. deed to infringe upon by the least touch of are permitted to hold different shades of familiarity. opinion, to adopt different modes of worship, With my husband she held no intercourse. suited to the natural tone of our minds, and Ilow would it now have been possible fobr to meet at last where all these slight distincbeings so differently constituted, to meet on tions are merged into one bond of everlastany common ground? Indeed they seldom ing union. met at all, except when he had good humour "Let it be remembered," continued he, enough to come for me at night, and drive "amongst the mercies of which we daily me home; and then the starched air, and partake, that we dwell in a land where our impenetrably close shut lips of Lady St. worship, whatever form it wears, may be Lewis, sufficiently indicated her sense of lifted up in the face of mankind without contamination to be dreaded from such so- fear, or shame, or danger, to that throne which ciety. She was of all persons the one in our less privileged forefathers not unfrequentwhose presence you would most dislike to ly addressed, in secret and sorrow, from be guilty of a breach of good manners, or to the abodes of infamy, within prison walls, give cause, by any kind of failure on your and amidst the horrors of martyrdom." part, for what you more than suspected Just at the close of this sentence we were would be internal triumph on hers. With all startled by a thundering knock at the these feelings I always met her, and was door. trulythankful when I could say "good night," " Who can this be?" exclaimed Mrs. without having had my husband's conduct Ormorand. But I spoke not, for I knew too as well as my own to answer for. well. It was my husband. I heard his step There came at last, however, a sudden coming with an uneven sledgy sound along termination to our slight and unsatisfactory the floor of the hall. One look was suffiintercourse. It was a memorable evening. cient. With an elaborate attempt at more Lady St. Lewis and I never met again. than common propriety, he addressed Mrs. We were seated, in our usual manner, Ormorand, and then turning to Lady St. around Mr. Ormorand's hospitable hearth, Lewis, bowed so low that I began to fear he he who was properly the head of his family, would never recover himself, but he did at expatiating upon that most interesting subject last regain that erect posture which is so of discussion, (a subject which so few can valuable a distinction between man and treat with candour and coolness,) the differ- the brute; and having done this, he seatence of creeds, and thepeculiarities of religious ed himself, with great complacency, beside opinions: I, with my hands ever unoccupied, me. reclined upon a chair opposite the fire, and What can it be, which, on such occasions, Lady St. Lewis was seated erect upon the seems to give tenfold intensity to the organs sofa, stiff and strong in the dignity of a "well- of sense and perception. In spite of my grounded and orthodox belief;" while, at her determination not to see anything, I beheld side was Miss Robinson, a young girl with every body's eyes, and caught all the enquirmeek brow and braided hair, who occupied ing glances by which they appeared to ask the dubious and unenviable post of poor re- of each other,-" What can be the matter?" lation; an humble friend, an untiring respon- And deaf as I would gladly have been, der, and a faithful supporter of her ladyship's (deaf as the rocks to the drowning seaman,) arguments. I distinctly head Miss Robinson whisper to "I regard it," said Mr. Ormorand, "as a her aunt, " The man is intoxicated," while great blessing, a blessingtor which we ought the indignant lady drew her neice closer to all to be unfailingly thankful, that in consid- her elbow and shook the full folds of her eration to the weakness, the inconsistency, dress, as she gathered it round her feet, and the manifold wants of our nature, we away from all chance of contamination. MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 115 It seemed that others were. not quite so to whose loyal subjects I offer my right much alive to the true state of things as I handand of whose aristocracy, I am happy was myself, for good Mrs. Ormorand, always to say, that I make one, Sir." endeavouring to set every one at ease, ad- "Show me the man, Sir, whose heart dressed my husband on the common topics does not glow with indignation when he of the weather, the roads, and the moon; hears a base calumny against the church, while he, having just sense enough to per- Sir, that church which has flourished through ceive that he had made a breach in our con- ages, in the unassailed and unassailable versaticn, begged we would proceed. power of her saint-like sublimity. Show me " Let me see," said he, with a sprightli- this man, Sir, and I will strike him with my ness that intended to be very captivating, " I foot. Show me Sir, the traitor who dares: dare say you were talking about bible socie- to harbour in his soul, not only the remotestl: ties, or Sunday schools. Do you know Mrs. thought, but the smallest iota of an idea deOrmorand, there is nothing I doat upon like rogatory to the majesty, and the might, and Sunday schools." the magnificence of his sovereign, and I' "Perhaps," replied this excellent manager will shed my best blood, Sir, in uprooting of mischances, "you will have the goodness him from the earth. Show me again, Sir, to add to the collection I am just now mak- the man, woman, or child, who is base ing for our annual rewards." enough to submit to the degradation of dis-: "With all the pleasure in the world!" ex- sent from that most holy, most venerable, claimed he, who was nominally the patron most mighty, most grand,-most-most-: of the institution. every thing of all institutions; and I will Thinking the tide was now setting in more hiss, Sir, I will hiss as I do now;" and he favourably, I ventured to raise my eyes, and actually pointed his finger full in the face of saw him fumble a sovereign out of his Lady St. Lewis, and prolonged the hissing purse, and present it to Mrs. Ormorand. sound until we had all time to grow stiff in "So far so good," thought I; and my the attitude of amazement pulse beat slower. Encouraged by this ap- To relate circumstantially what followed pearance of sanity, Mr. Ormorand com- would be impossible. I had wondered until menced again with the conversation which my astonishment was exhausted, I had felt had been so suddenly interrupted, and ad- until feeling was worn out, I had endured dressing himself politely to my husband, until the power of endurance was no more; "We have been endeavouring," said he. I lost all susceptibility of impressions, and " to reconcile the slight differences in our re- can recollect nothing after this scene except ligious belief, by considering the advantage a confused call for carriages, in which lady which is thus afforded to the union of a va- St. Lewis and my husband both insisted riety of characters in one great cause; and upon being first. Her ladyship, however, you, Sir, I am sure, as a gentleman of libe- gained the point in starting, but my worthy ral mind, as well as a warm supporter- Nimrod soon drove past her with a yell of "A supporter, Sir," said my husband, triumph, which made her coachman start springing upon his feet, and placing his upon his seat, and draw his horses off the hands upon the back of a chair, with all road, as if to make way for a madman.. the mock majesty of a public speaker,-while The week which followed this scene of ab-; he thundered firth, with a voice which surdity was one of unbroken sullenness on brought the domestics to the door to listen, the part of the offender, and of something " A supporter, Sir, of that church, Sir, very much of the same kind on mine, interwhose institutions I venerate, whose laws I rupted only by occasional tart and taunting uphold, and whose unsullied purity I set allusions to the gross effrontery of such conforth: of that state, Sir whose king I obey, duct. 116 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. When the morning of Saturday arrived, oured to console myself by saying it would no change for the better had taken place, have been of no use even if I had endeavand it was with evident satisfaction that my oured to detain him. Beneath the all-seeing husband informed me of an engagement he eye of Omnipotence, how futile is this plea, had made for that day, to dine with a neigh- when no attempt has been made, not a finger bouring gentleman, who was more cele- stirred, not a word spoken, at the very mobrated for his wine than his wisdom. Now ment when a still small voice, was whisperwas the time for me to exert my influence, if ing ", Now is the appointed time." I had any, to lay aside all putulant airs, and Oh! that we would be satisfied to fulfil our to show by the sacrifice of my own wounded simple part, and to leave the event in His pride, how sincere was my desire to promote hands " with whom are the issues of life!" the interest of that cause, for which I had Had I, in the hour of trial, submitted to the once been so solicitous, that the day before dictates of duty, I might even on this most the Sabbath should be devoted to the ser- miserable evening of my life, have found vices of religion. But no. I could not, at some drops of sweetness in my cup: for then least, I would not, bring down my spirit to I could have lifted up my heart in prayer remind my husband of his duty; for it was with the consciousness of having done my impossible to do this without at the same best; and I too might have uttered the touchtime recalling the past days when I had ing and impressive language "though he been humble enough to make a favour of his slay me yet will I trust in him." But now, concessions; and in the present state of my with a smitten and writhing spirit, I applied temper nothing could have been more gall- myself to the painful task of preparing a sering than to make the acknowledgment, that mon for the next day's service. such a being, so lost to common sense, and Hour after hour passed on, and the Sabcommon decency, so prone to grovel in his bath came apace; but he who was to spread own egregious folly, could possibly confer a forth the tidings of the gospel to a listening favour upon me. people was still at his unhallowed revels. I saw him linger even beyond his usual At deep midnight I opened my window and time of trifling, I saw him come back into listened, and again, and again, until the grey the house before he mounted his horse, and dawn appeared in the east, and the birds even turn again as he passed the window; stretched forth their buoyant wings, and all but I made no answer either by look or nature awoke in freshness, and beauty, and sign to his evident desire to be recalled, and peace. At last I heard the sound of a horse, casting off the last weak longing after better right welcome as it came before the domesthings, he gave himself up to one desperate tics were abroad. I opened the door as resolution, and set spurs into his high-met- gently as I could, and the brisk morning air tied steed, the sound of whose galloping brought a touch of gladness on its.wings. hoofs died away upon my ear, as I sat in si- The worst confirmation of our fears is a lent self-condemnation, musing upon the op- relief to the agony of suspense, the torture portunity I had thus perversely thrown of apprehension; and yet, when I saw my away. In spite of the many times I told my- husband staggering home with all that disself during the day that I had only done order of look and manner which remains afwha every other woman of spirit would do, ter such a day, or rather such a night as he my heart was ill at ease; and when I sat had spent, and when I thought that in a few down to my solitary tea, I thought of the hours he must appear in public as a minister riatous board, where, at that very hour, my of a pure and holy religion, my heart sunk husband was drowning all recollection of within me, and oh! what bitter self-upbraidthe past, and what was still worse, all anti- ings were mine, that I had done nothing, atcipatlon of the future. In vain I endeav- tempted nothing, to rescue him from such an MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 117 exposure, to spare that church which I pro- home, leaning on the arm of Mr. Ormorand. fessed to venerate, the stain of such a dis- I could not meet them at the door, but stood grace. up to receive them in the room, where I had If.t be true that a man when intoxicated spent the last tedious and comfortless hour, always exhibits his natural disposition, my like a culprit who awalls his final sentence. husband must have been gifted with an un- "Tell me the worst," said I, seizing the common share of obstinacy: for when in this hand of Mr. Ormorand, who told me nothing, state it was impossible to divert him, still less but shook his head and answered gravely to force him, from any absurd determination and evidently with great distress, " This will he might take up. It was consequently vain not do." for me to attempt to convince him that he " Do not leave me," said I, for I felt utterly would be unable to go through with the helpless, and destitute of all comfort; and, usual service of the day, and when I pro- bursting into an agon) of tears, I entreated posed to send over to a neighbouring cler- him to tell me all the fearful truth, for nogyman and ask him to take his duty for the thing could be worse than my apprehenmorning, he replied with indignation that he sions. wanted no interference with his duties. The case was indeed bad enough, yet not What could be done in such a case! Once so glaring, but that many of the congregaI thought of sending for Mr. Ormorand, but tion were left to believe that my husband knowing my husband's antipathy to him and had been taken ill. What added peculiar his family I dared not even pronounce his poignancy to my distress, was to discover name, lest it should occasion some terrible that, from a kind and delicate regard to my explosion of rage. feelings, and the shock they must have reWith that sickness of soul which makes the ceived on the evening of the terrible rupture hand tremble, and the knees grow weak, and with Lady St. Lewis, Mr. and Mrs. Ormothe brain reel with giddiness, I prepared to rand, had left their usual place of worship, accompany my husband to church. But it and attended our church that morning, with was in vain. My resolution failed me, and the generous intention of convincing me that while he was adjusting the reins, I stepped they, at least, could look charitably upon my back into the house saying that I did not feel husband's conduct. But this was a breach well enough to go. of propriety, a violation of all moral and reHad the prayers of my heart that morning ligious feeling, for which they could find no been offered up in the spirit of true humility, palliation; and it was evident, that the calm I have little doubt but they would have been and well-regulated mind of Mr. Ormorand heard and accepted. Most assuredly they had been deeply shocked and wounded. were wrung out from a broken, if not from a " This must never be repeated," said he, contrite spirit: but even in the agony of my as we walked together in the garden. 1" It feelings I can well remember that I drew is worth any sacrifices of private peace to many conclusions about what certain indi- prevent"-he did not say what, but went on. viduals would think, and had much to com- "; You must labour diligently and faithfully, bat with in my own mind, besides the over- and if your best endeavours cannot overcome whelming idea of the mockery which might, this dreadful propensity, I entreat you then at that very time, be offered to the throne of to apply all your energies, all your zeal, to mercy. induce your husband voluntarily to resign a'Absorbed in these gloomy reflections, I situation, from which he must in time be exwas seated with my eyes wandering over pelled." And thus, with many strict charges the garden, the fields, and the fair prospect respecting my own vigilance and care, he before me, when, long before the usual time left me; and I turned into my own habitafor leaving church, I saw my hrisband led tion on the noon of a smiling sabbath, when 118 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. the cottager goes home from the house of speak fairly of his character, I desire to treat prayer; and all who value the privileges of my own with the same candour, and to a Christian community, acknowledge with prove that whatever his undisguised errors, thankfulness and joy the welcome influence or even sins might be, they were more than of a day of bodily rest, and spiritual refresh- balanced by those which I endeavoured to ment. I turned in to my own habitation, to conceal within my own heart; by the unsit down with a husband, whose senses, half pardonable presumption which led me on to drowned by recent intoxication, were still undertake his conversion, having never made dense and brutalized, and whose very coun- my own " calling and election sure;" by the tenance, retaining the mark of the beast, was rebellious and unsubdued pride in which I flushed, and distorted with fever, and burn- refrned to fulfil the only condittbns which ing thirst. could produce a favourable change; and by Now, my friend, I believe you have had the contempt with which I looked down fromn experience enough in the deceitfulness of the my own fancied elevation upon his lost and world, more especially have seen enough of fallen state. that worst kind of deception by which we Severely, deeply, as my feelings were harendeavour to impose upon ourselves, to lead rowed by this last exposure, I still adopted you to join with me in deprecating the false no conciliatory measures, nor condescended delicacy by which women are accustomed to to enter upon an impartial examination of blind themselves to the true nature of vice. the root of the evil. Thus we speak of a gentleman, being gay, The next morning, I will venture to say, being under the excitement of wine, being did not rise upon any creature more wretchgood-hearted, but alittle dissipated, anenemy ed than myself. I awoke with an indistinct to no one but himself; and thus we marry the sense of something impending over me, creatures whom we pity for such gentle something dreadful, that would happen, or errors, when we think we would not for the had already happened, and scarcely could world unite ourselves to a vicious, a drunken, the severest calamity that words might desor a bad man. Not that I would in any way cribe have been so intolerable in its opprees imply that, because of our own exemption siveness as that universal yet indefinite kind from glaring vices, we should look with un- of desolation which was made sufficiently charitable eye upon those whose temptations evident to my fully awakened thoughts. may have been incalculably more powerful " What am Is where am I, and what do I than ours; but oh! what weight, what dig- possess " are three appalling questions nity would be added to the character of which we not unfrequently ask ourselves on woman, if, when speaking of mankind, she first awaking from a long and heavy sleep. would raise her mind above that network of I had no answer by which to allay the annonsense which is used in polished society, guish of my heart, and when I arose, it was to throw a veil over those vices which cry but to take up again the weary burden of aloud for our deepest, our most fervent, most the past day. persevering reprobation. I could draw a Under the pressure of affliction in which picture of what a gay man is in private life, no one can partake, and which we imagine but which of my fair sisters would not turn nothing can alleviate, we do not beguile the away her eyes, and say it was impossible time by tracing our accustomed walks in that her Lothario should ever resemble that. grounds or gardens, but seek either the city But enough of this. I wish not to expose or the solitude, the crowd or the wilderness; my poor husband's transgressions more than because in both situations we feel ourselves is necessary for warning others from risking equally unobserved. In this state of mind I the same rash experiment, which plunged chose out for myself a melancholy retreat, me into the deepest despair; and while I where neither my husband nor my domestics MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 119 were likely to find me. It was in a wild and change; and I insisted upon carrying the untrimmed plantation, where the grounds of pitcher, if her home was not far distant. the parsonage were bounded by a brook that "Oh! no," said she, with many apologies, murmured perpetually over a gravelly bed. " it is close by. Just at the skirt of the wood. There was no beauty in this scene except You may see the smoke beside that old tree. what the little brook and the wild weeds But still it is too far for you to carry such a gave it; yet here I used to sit on the moss- weight, and the way is not the cleanest." covered stem of a fallen tree, envying the Here she hesitated; for there was evidently very birds, and the insects that winged their some other reason why she did not wish me flight around and above me. Even winter to go with her, and this exciting my curiosity, could not keep me from this spot, for I loved I persevered with my burden, which, had it its withered grass, and bright green moss, been imposed upon me, and not of my own and silvery lichen; but most of all, I loved choosing I should have thought intolerably to listen to the blast that roared amongst its heavy. leafless boughs. The cottage to which our path led, was Here I was one day indulging the full beautifully situated, and at first I thought it bent of my distempered fancy, until at last presented a perfect picture; so apt are we my thoughts broke forth in words. to imagine that the cares and troubles, and " Everything in nature," said I, " has some perplexities of life must necessarily be shut purpose to fulfil, some power to exercise, out from such picturesque and secluded resome impulse to obey, but me. I alone, of treats. On a nearer inspection, however, I all creation, live on from day to day, in a found an air of great poverty spread over perpetual imprisonment of soul.-.-hy, why the whole, and a slovenly appearance about was I ever animated with human life, when the door, that might soon have been done the very worm has an existence more envia- away by a strong and willing hand. ble than mine? The simplest denizen of air At the entrance of a little plot of garden, may'flee away and be at rest;' the birds the old woman stopped and took the pitcher have their unwearied wings to bear them to from my hands, with many hearty thanks for a distant land: and the stream that murmurs the service I had done her. idly at my feet, after meandering through a "May I not go in with you?" said I. thousand meadows, finds a welcome in the "Oh! yes, ma'am if you please," but she bosom of the ocean at last."' stopped again, and looked distressed. "I I had scarcely uttered these words when have a poor lassie," said she (for they were my ear caught a rustling sound amongst the north country people) " who is just now in dead grass and fallen branches on the oppo- some trouble, and will not be much pleased site side of the brook, and I saw the figure to see the face of a stranger, but I am sure of an aged woman stooping down to fill a you are a kind-hearted lady, and you may pitcher with water. The bank was so damp be able to say something that will comfort and slippery that it would have been diffi- her." cult to find safe footing even for one more We were standing but a few: paces from light and agile. After many fruitless at- the door, though screened from the small tempts, she looked up, as if to see whether window, and while we hesitated about enany one was near of whom she might ask tering, I heard the following words sung in assistance, and half ashamed of my tardy of- a sweet and plaintive voice by some one fer, I crossed the stream and stooped down within, who appeared to be unconscious of myself for the water. a listener. There was to me a strange novelty in do- SONG. ing even this act of common kindness, which,, Listen! oh! listen! is Ronald returning. pleased me for the moment, as it brought a Hesa ye the sound of his step o'er the lea? 120 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. Come again, lost one, the bright fire is burning, will bring us all to ruin!" and she, too, wept, The hearth is swept clean in thy cottage for thee, without any attempt at concealment. "Sad is the night, and the morning how dreary; "And yet," continued she, " it is not so Dark is the sun-rise when Ronald's away; much the loss of worldly comfort, though that Come again lov'd one, my bosom is weary, Pining to welcome thee through the long day. is going fast; but there's his own soul to think " Where is my joy if thy smiie is not near me about, poor fellow, and the bairns that should Where is my hope if thou wilt not return I be looking up to him, and Jenny's healthVainly my bonny bairn's lisping would cheer me, she's pining away daily, and the more I talk Vainly my mother's bright ingle would burn her of heaven, the more she frets about "Where are the sunbeams that danced on the mountain? her husband and her children. You should Where is the moonlight that slept in the vale? have seen her when she married. The Where is the sparkling foam of the fountain The music that sigh'd in the whispering gale I sweetest face —the lightest foot-you never " Where are the songs I have heard the birds singingl heard the lark carol on a May morning with When all was melody tun'd to mine ear? a gayer heart than hers." Now every note a sad burden is bringing, "! Oh! my dear Lady, it needs faith," and Warbling of spring-time, while winter is near. she fixed her eyes intently on my face,-" it "6Where, bonny babe, is thy wandering father needs faith to bear these things day after Close thy sweet eye-lids, and hush thee to rest, Ask me no more, hapless thing; I would ratheay, an yet to say our nightly prayers, Lull thee to sleer on this comfortless breast. thy will be done."' [" Come again Ronald, the bright fire is burning, "I have lived to the age of threescore Thy wife and thy mother are watching for thee; years, and my life has been none of the Come again loved one, thy joyful returning smoothest. Sometimes Ihaveknown.poverBrings beauty to nature, and gladness to me." Brings beauty to nature, and gladness to me." ty, and sometimes comfort, but I have always " Oh! that's her way," said the old wo- had need enough to lean upon the only arm man. "When she's left alone it lightens that was able to support me; yet, I can truher poor heart to sing these dismal ditties, ly say, without any wish to complain more if she thinks no one can hear her. But come than is necessary, that to console my poor in, my good lady, you must not stand here daughter, and to keep her thoughts steady in the cold." to the true point, is the hardest task I have The sound of our steps at the doorbrought ever had yet. Perhaps you have never the young woman in an instant from the fire- known trouble, ma'am. Perhaps you have side, where she had been sitting with her never been disappointed, nor found yourself baby in her arms. There was at first a bound up as it were with the tares, when bright flash of expectation in her looks,which you thought you should have stood among faded away on seeing who we were, and the wheat. If. so, you will be tired of hearthough she welcomed us in with civility and ing me talk about what you do not (and I kindness, I saw her often turn away to wipe pray you never may) understand. But off the tears that were continually gathering sometimes it is a relief to tell our troubles in her eyes. At last she retired into an in- to a stranger, for it seems almost as if a ner room, and I was left at liberty to ask new face would bring some new consolaher mother what was the cause of her dis- tion. tress.' I am not tired of hearing you, indeed," " It's a long story," said the old woman, said I, " go on, and tell me all about your " and one that is too common for you to lis- daughter." ten to; but the shortest and the worst part There's little to be said of her, poor thing, of it is, that my poor Jenny has a drunken more than may be said of many who have husband. He was abonny Scotch lad when no one to speak for them. She was brought we first knew him, and even now he has the up in a careful way, and yet married just for kindest heart; but oh! these sad ways of his love, without, as she often says now, so much MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 121 as asking a blessing upon what she did; and this. Perhaps you have been brought to it then she reproaches herself, and says she de- by an easier way. I have no right to ask served this, and more; not in the way of questions of you, but there is something in complaining, you would never hear her do your face which tells me that all is not that; and if she does but hint at her hus- sweetness of which you have to drink. band's fault, she takes care to tell of his Whatever your trials may be, Ithink they kindness too, and says that, though his sins cannot well be greater than my poor daughlook more than her own, they are not half so ter's. Remember, when you go home, that great, or so many. And though he grows there is consolation even for these; and, so worse and worse, and what with wanting mo- saying, she bid me good day, for I had alney, and drowning his right senses, his tem- ready risen to depart. per is not what it used to be, still she never On returning home after this scene I was tires of trying to please him, but keeps the much struck by a sense of my own deficiency house neat, and makes every meal ready as in all that I had found here exemplified; in if he were here, even while she believes in patient submission, in watchfulness, and conher heart he will nbt come; yet she says, he fiding trust, in short, in the three Christian shall not find any difference if he does. graces, faith, hope and charity, And yet I And now she'll come, and get out the tea had dared to think my portion hard. And and please herself with thinking how corm- so unquestionably it was to me; but I had fortable everything is for him, and she'll chosen my own lot; I had taken up my own wait, and wait, and scarcely eat a morsel burden, I had filled my own cup with bitterherself, and look so sick and faint, that my ness; and since to my natural feelings that heart aches to see her. lot was most wretched, that burden most Oh! if we had no consolation beyond our- grevious to be borne, and that cup most unselves, I think we should both die before the palatable; there was urgent need for me to end of another day! But we are not, I hope look beyond my present blighted and gloomy we are not, without some hold of better prospects, to thatregion ofblessedness, where things. We pray diligently, and sometimes there is neither blight nor gloom. our prayers are blest to us, and we rise up, " But what," exclaimed I, giving way to if not in the expectation that they will be my cheerless meditations, " what is there answered in the way we wish, yet in perfect in this wide world for me! This poor wotrust that we shall be wisely and mercifully man doats upon her husband with all the endealt with, and that the very burden of which thusiasm of youth, and the very love which we are complaining, is'exactly the trial we tortures her heart, at the same time keeps it are most in need of. Sometimes we feel from the stagnation of despair." this in such a lively manner, that it almost In the midst of my gloomy reflections I grows into gladness; and we look on beyond was startled by the soand of carriage wheels this little spot of earth, this little speck of at the door, and looking out, I saw my hustime, and are satisfied that we know not band, extremely pale, dressed in a loose gown what is best for us, and then we speak to and supported, or rather carried into the each other words of cheering, and read our house by a. medical gentleman who lived Bible, and see how the Lord led his people near us. through the wilderness. He had gone out that day with the intenOh! my dear lady, miserable as we may tion of compelling a young horse to take a appear to you, we would not exchange these desperate leap, and the consequences were seasons of blessed confidence for all that a such as.might have been anticipated. The wealthier or seemingly happier station could beast was obstinate, the man furious; at last afford. after a dreadful conflict, both horse and rider Perhaps you have never been brought to had rolled together down a steep bank, and, 122 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. had not a poor man been passing at the time, was compel.Ed to return to the cottage of in all probability my husband would have the poor woman, to take a fresh lesson for been unable to extricate himself. He had my own private walk, to gather fresh paid dearly for his exploit by many severe strength for the performance of my own contusions, but he had a good-natured way duties. of making the best of that which was un- It was with deep and heartfelt regret I deniably bad, and he now looked cheerful, observed in my repeated visits, that disease and affected to be much less hurt than he was making rapid progress in the once really was. healthy frame of the young woman. The There is nothing wins upon our kindness kind of melancholy which I endured, and more than suffering patiently endured; and which I fancied so intolerable, made no inwhen my husband saw my real concern, and roads upon my constitution; but hers was a my willingness to serve and assist him, his torture of the heart, a strife between love joy and gratitude were beyond bounds. and sorrow, which no human constitution " Be always thus," said he, " and you may can long sustain. make of me what you please." Often, as I had entered the cottage, I had "Be always ill," thought I, "and it will never yet found the wandering husband at be no effort to me to do my duty." home; until one evening, when nature was It is peculiar to weak and flippant charac- again assuming the freshness of spring, I ters to imagine that every new impression was surprised to see the figure of a man they receive will be deep, and lasting, and seated beside the poor invalid. At first I hesiinfluential upon their future conduct. The tated, but Jenny's voice called me in with surface of their animal existence is so often such a gladsome tone, that I could not turn and so easily stirred, that they have no time away without once witnessing her joy. to ascertain what lies beneath, and thus are " He is here I" she whispered to me as I incapable of reasoning from analogy, of stood beside her. "He is here!" she rejudging rationally of their own feelings or peated, with a look of happiness that I never motives, and of drawing conclusions from can forget. the force of established habit, the power of Ronald was indeed a fine looking man, association, and the impossibility of acting whose strongly marked countenance indirightly merely from occasional efforts of the cated a strong character. At first I thought natural will. him handsome; but when he spoke there Any one who had but slightly studied hu- was a thirsty kind of irregularity about his man nature, would have thought my hus- features, which had no doubt been brought band, during his confinement to a quiet on byhis dreadfully debasing habits. Jenny, chamber, in a state of mind which promised however, seemed to be unconscious that he great amendment of life. Even I was fain exhibited any other aspect than that of perto build upon the earnestness of his pro- fect beauty; for she leaned with her thin mises, made in the warmth of awakened white hand upon his arm, and looked up feeling; and thus the moments we spent to- into his face, as if she read there all that gether while he was ill and helpless, were was written in her book of life. amongst the happiest of my life; for I had This little act of kindness on his part (his then an object in view, towards the attain- merely staying with her one evening when ment of which I seemed to be making some her mother was absent,) was worth, in her progress. Nor was it an unpleasing task, to estimation, all that the world could offer of reason with one who now was glad to listen; riches, rank, of splendour; and her gentle to plead with one who heard me in a sub- eyes were lighted up with something of dued and gentle spirit. But my hour of the brilliancy they had worn in former days, trial was not yet come, and often after this I and her hollow cheek was tinged with a fe MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 123 verish hue-of crimson beauty. Oh! how and though I could not say (for I did not different from the rich glow that had once believe) that even his altered life would now distinguished her as the pride of village save her, yet I urged upon him many times maidens! before we separated, the satisfaction he It was with difficulty I persuaded Ronald would afterwards feel in having cheered her to keep his place at the fire, when I sat last moments, and watched her gentle spirit down beside them. He would gladly have depart in peace. gone away, like one who feels that much It was wonderful to me, that after the excharity is needed to tolerate his presence; ertions I had been able to make with those but Jenny and I both did our best to detain whose feelings and habitswere comparatively him, and when she asked me to read to them strange to me, I should find any difficulty in a chapter in the Bible, saying she was sure performing the same duties at home: but so that Ronald would like to hear me read, it was. Ronald was a man of strong and he felt compelled in common civility to re- deep character, with whom the words that main. fell unanswered upon his ear were often Half afraid of venturing too far in the graven on his heart; nor was it from carepresence of one with whose character I was lessness about the ruin which his habits in a great measure unacquainted, I chose brought upon his family, that he had so long the parable of the Prodigal Son, and my persisted in the evil of his ways. So far heart melted as I went through those touch- from this, the very anguish of his self uping passages which describe the return of braidings sometimes drove him awayfrom the penitent. home, and in this manner his desperation On looking up I saw that Jenny had cov- served to increase its own violence. ered her face with her handkerchief, while The case with my husband was essentially with the other hand trembling like an aspen different. His was a mere animal propensileaf, she still grasped the arm of her hus- ty-over which a variable and volatile spirit baud, who bent down his head over a rosy had little power. It was not to drown the child, seated on his knee, and stroked its anguish of a tortured mind that he swallowed glossy ringlets, tied and untied the strings of the fatal draught, but solely for the sake of its frock, and pressed its cheek to his breast, the excitement and the love of what he called as if glad to do any thing that might relieve " good company." In his often-repeated fits him from the misery of sitting quietly be- of penitence there was no want of sincerity neath the scrutiny of searching eyes. for the time; but nothing could give con"Is there any thing," thought I, "that a stancy and firmness to his resolutions. Thus, stranger's voice may say to add weight to on recovering from the long confinement to that of conscience?' and I offered up an which his accident had subjected him, he inward prayer that my humble endeavours rushed again into the world with fresh intemight not be made in vain. I know not how rest, and sat down to the jovial board, deterit was, but I found strength and power on mined to drink but little! that occasion to utter words that sounded Still there was a radical change in my daring to a strong man, and a stranger; feelings towards him, and the views which I but he bore them well: and when I took entertained of his character no longer plungmy leave, even offered to attend me home, ed me into moodiness and despair. During as darkness was fast coming on. I accepted his illness I had reaped the blessed fruits of his offer, and we talked by the way of the continued exertion for another's good and hope there was in store for the penitent; of though I could not be said to love him bethe efficacy of plrayer; and of the mercy yond the common kindness we feel for those that fails not even in the latest hour. And who share out lot in life, I had learned to then, last of all, we talked about poor Jenny; look charitably even upon him. When I 124 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. endeavoured calmly to weigh and estimate so that it spare my summer bower!' And I, his character, thousands of instances occur- who know the strength of these feelings, not red to my recollection in which I might have from their anguish, but their blessedness: acted a more Christian part towards him, preach to you, it may seem, in mockery of and with these considerations came fresh that which I have never experienced, but pity and forgiveness for his faults. still with a heart that bleeds for your calam"But what?" said I, one day, to Mr. Or- ity; and still with boldness; for I know that morand, when we had been speaking with the events of this transitory life are not as kindness and commiseration of the absent- they appear to our contracted vision; that What can I do to save him?" there is the working of a mighty and myste1" My dear friend," replied Mr. Ormorand, rious Power around and above us, striking "you must do your best: I never heard that out waters from the barren rock; upon we were commanded to save each other. which we have lain prostrate in our desHappy is it for us that the salvation of our pair, bringing forth flowers and fruits in own souls is all that is strictly required of us. the wilderness, where we have stretched But remember that, in order to make sure our wearied limbs to die; and raising up joy of this great object, it is necessary that we and beauty from the ashes of our ruined watch over each other for good; that we do hopes! not' da ken counsel' by calculating too much "Let us look, my friend, away from this upon the end, but persevere faithfully and one point of misery, and number the blessdiligently in rendering our appointed service. ings that are beyond. Have you not the Your endeavours to save your husband from means of assisting and cherishing the poor? disgrace and ruin may not be attended with Employ yourself diligently in the service of the reward you desire*; but are there not others, and your home-at least your heartother rewards in the hand of Omnipotence, will no longer be desolate. Not administerfar, far beyond what your most earnest en- ing outward comforts merely, but conveying deavours can deserve? Is there not'that instruction to the ignorant; and thus, while peace of mind which passeth all understand- bearing a blessing to the needy, you will ing' never denied to the humble and perse- often be blessed yourself. vering suppliant? Are there not the pro- " I recommend these pursuits especially to mises of the gospel to support the pilgrim on you, because I believe them to be amongst his way? Is there not the unbounded ocean the means afforded by Divine Providence for of everlasting mercy, into which the tears of beguiling the mind from melancholy and our weak nature may flow? Oh! do not fruitless brooding over its own secret and despair, even though the desire of your eyes selfish sorrows. Beyond these are those should be denied! You know that in this spiritual helps, which I need not point out to world is not our rest, and that none can you, but which I pray fervently may prove drink of the cup of life without tasting its un- the unfailing support of your soul." palatable dregs. Yours may be all centred It was not long after this conversation took in one drop of inexpressible bitterness! But place that I was summoned to attend the last is not the rest more sweet than falls to the moments of poor Jenny; and here, if I had lot of many? I know what you will answer doubted the efficacy of that faith, which my me: you will say,' let the axe fall anywhere worthy friend had so earnestly recommended but here. Let my outward portion be one to me, I should have seen a lively and strikof poverty and suffering, but leave me a ing instance of its power to support the feehome where my spirit may dwell in peace. ble spirit. Let the blight come in the tempest, so that The exhausted sufferer was still able to my fireside comforts remain unscathed. Let speak; and, as if aware that time with her the lightning strike my bark upon the ocean, was short, she laid her hand upon my arm, MARRIAGE AS IT MAY BE. 125 as I stood beside her, and looking implor- worth all to gain the prize!" and, so saying, inogly in my face, entreated me, in the simple her gentle soul departed. language of her heart, to put my trust solely From this time Ronald was an altered and entirely in Him, who knows what is best man; not but that he had sometimes hard for his frail creatures; "for," continued she, conflicts before he could compel himself pain a cheerful and animated tone, "it is this tiently to endure the gnawing worm of selfthat has supported me; it is this that will reproach; but what with the vigilant care support you." of a Christian mother, and the winning helpThe aged mother sat by the bed, with lessness of his poor children, and, above all, more of peace in her countenance than I had with that mercy, whose unfailing fountains seen there before; and Ronald, poor Ronald, refresh the soul of the penitent, he was enanow smitten to his inmost soul, covered his bled to keep on a steady course, without any face with both his hands, and sobbed aloud, after breach of regularity of life or conduct. in the bitterness of unspeakable anguish; Not so, my poor husband. I have now sometimes, as he was able to raise up his watched over him for years. I have seen head, catching Jenny's eye turned towards him dismissed from his high station, and rehim with such looks of tenderness and love, turned thanks that he was no longer perthat the fountains of his tears burst forth mitted to disgrace the ministry of the church. again, and he wept like a child, without con- I have descended with him into the most pricealment or shame. vate and secluded walk of life; and though "Oh! may those tears be blessed!" said I have found in that walk much to reconcile the dying woman. "Think not of me, Ro- its roughness, and smooth down its thorns, I nald, when I am gone. I was but like a still lift up my voice from a weary and flower in your path, love, that withered at wounded spirit, (and oh! that I could speak noon-day. But think of the flowers of para- more powerfully) to warn the trifling, the dise, and the burden that must be borne, and thoughtless, and the rash, from that most the battle that must be fought, before we can lamentable of all calamities-most irreparaenter where they bloom for ever. Keep on, ble of all misfortunes-" an ill-assorted markeep on, the strife will soon be over; it is riage." PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. SECOND SERIES. BY MRS, ELLIS, AUTHOR OF "WIVES OF ENGLAND," ETC Would you judge of the lawfulness or unlawfulness of pleasure, take this rule: whatever weakens your reason, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your sense of God, or takes off the relish of spiritual things;-in short, whatever increases the strength and authority of your body over your mind, that thing is sin to you, however innocent it may be in itself." AUTHOR'S EDITION, COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. EDWARD WALKER 114 FULTON-STREET. PREFACE. THOUGH well aware that to erase, even important truth upon which all communifrom a popular volume, every sentence ties agree. against which an objection can be brought, It must also be remembered that my must be to leave the author in the predica- object is rather moral than religious. To ment of the complaisant artist who effaced higher teachers I leave the definition of his painting in his endeavours to please what religion is; my humbler and more the public, in striking out every part which befitting task is to show what we should did not obtain entire approbation; yet is be without its supporting and purifying there one feature in the Pictures of Private influence; to point out the different paths Life which has been hinted at by more which conduct us to or from this blessed than one Review, of too important a na- goal; and, if possible, to spare the idle ture to be passed over without serious con- and the thoughtless the cost of learning by sideration. their own experience what fatal conseIt has been said of the First Series of quences attend upon the choice of an erthis work that the religious sentiments it roneous course. contains are not sufficiently decided. If by decided is meant sectarian, I freely I cannot commit the present volume to acknowledge that I have, both in the first the good-wll4 of the public, without one and second volume, studiously avoided word of a lighter nature to the gossips every sentiment, and every mode of ex- who sit around the Christmas fire-to pression, not common to Christians of every those whose busy hands are ever ready to denomination, deeming the fundamental direct the arrow for which they have not principles of religion all-sufficient for my bent the bow. By such, a great deal has purpose. Had that purpose been confined been said in reference to my last volume to the narrow circle of domestic life, I on the subject of personality —a subject on should doubtless have made many additions which I beg leave to assure them that I from my own peculiar views of what may have been more guilty of inadvertency be most expedient, useful and salutary un- than design; and that many likenesses der certain circumstances of birth and have been pointed out to me, with the coineducation. But these views, had they cidence of names and initials, of which I even agreed with one particular party, and was altogether unconscious at the time of obtained from that party the recommenda- writing. tion of being more decided, would have That an author should draw a likeness been of little service to the community at without knowing it, will scarcely be belarge, and might possibly in some cases lieved by those who are not acquainted save prevented the introduction of more with the process of thought by which an 21 11 iv PREFACE. abstract idea is derived. But to use the future. I now offer to the pub:ic a wrkume parallel of painting, as best adapted to the containing many characters, all so,arepurpose, let us suppose an artist employed fully selected, watched and guarded, that, ix representing a personification of mel- but for the mere circumstance of their huancholy. He gives himself up for a while manity and consequent participation in to the abstract idea. But his business is to human infirmities, I could almost defy the convey it to others, and imagination quickly scrutiny of the most penetrating eye to deproduces the figure to which memory has tect a resemblance, unless it be *o my (unconsciously to him) given the features friends' friends, and surely I shall not be of the person from whom he has possibly considered accountable for that. derived his first or most forcible impres- To those who have been more active sions of melancholy. While absorbed in than judicious in distributing th- likethe single idea derived from these impres- nesses of the last volume, I would recomsions, he pursues his work without recog- mend that they look for themselves alone nizing the likeness, until others more dis- in this, and that they confine their search criminating are kind enough to point it to the examples that are most praiseworthy. out; and, then, if the representation should If they succeed, how happy will it be for by chance be of any temperament, quality, them and me!-How much happier, than or passion, more despicable than melan- should they choose out the most exseptioncholy, woe to the poor painter! able characters, fix them upon individuals There is no teacher llke experience; of their acquaintance, ana DLame t!ib, writer there is no proper regret for the past but for the consequences. that which produces amendment for tae CONTENTS. Page MISANTHROPY... - -... 7 THE PAINS OF PLEASING. -... - - -. 77 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. MISANTHROPY, And none did love him, though to hall and bower He gathered revellers from far and near, He knew them flatterers of the festal hour; The heartless parasites of present cheer, Yea! none did love him-not his leman's dear. CHILDE HROLw. CHAPTER I. It was not long before he was again at her side. As the Rev. Charles Forester, rector of "I have been thinking," said he, "that the parish of Haughton, was turning down the poor child has but little entert.i)nment at the brow of the hill which overlooked his home, and that, if she does really add so own quiet dwelling in the valley, he was met much pleasure to the party, she might as by his sister, Mrs, Percival, who, laying hold well go. But mind, sister; in the article of of the rein of his bridle, playfully cried out, clothing, I depend upon you, as understand" A boon! a boon!" ing these things better than myself; and if' What is your pleasure, fair dame?" ask- she should catch cold -" ed the rector. " Thank you! thank you!" interrupted " To-morrow is the day," replied the lady, Mrs. Percival; "I will gladly bear all the "appointed for certain rural sports, such as punishment you may think fit to inflict upon fishing, boating, and the like: and we desire me, if we should catch cold." the company of your daughter Agnes, who The morning was beautiful when the always adds double pleasure to whatever merry group set off. Agnes, who had not party she may honour with her presence." yet learned the painful lesson, that when Mr. Forester shook his head. " I do not boys go forth to enjoy themselves, girls must like your parties upon water; Agnes may stay at home, took the place, prepared for sit in damp shoes, to say the least of the dan- her comfort and safety with cloaks, cushions, ger;" and he hit his pony a smart stroke and wrappers, which she pushed aside as upon the neck, which made him quickly dis- soon as her father and Mrs. Percival had conentangle his rein, and start off at a brisk eluded their many charges to the old, expetrot. rienced watermen, and were fairly out of Mrs. Percival walked off also in the oppo- sight. Close beside her sat her cousin Arnold site direction, knowing, bylong acquaintance Percivai, a tall, commanding-looking youth, with the habits and feelings of lordly man, some years older than herself, whose right that the less she said to urge her suit, the to the privileged seat no one disputed; and more likely was her brother's heart to relent. at the farthest possible distance, stripped to 8 Y PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. his shirt sleeves, and tugging at the oar, was Walter would one day be the man ofupright his younger brother, Walter, These two and steady usefulness, of strict punctuality, boys (or young men, as they were more like- promptness, and integrity in the common afly to have called themselves,) were each fairs of life. Arnold never called a servant born to an inheritance as different as the d:s- or ordered a horse, but they were ready on positions which they carried along with them. the instant. Walter hated that any one Arnold was heir to an entailed estate, which should do for him what he was able to do for would, at some future time, afford him the himself; but when he did require service possession of an almost princely fortune: from his mother's domestics, he could obtain Walter had no other dependance than upon it as readily for love, as his brother could for a clear head and ready hand. Gladly would fear. Arnold held no communication with Arnold have shared half his wealth with what Walter was accustomed to call the useWalter; but Walter, since he was not born ful classes of society; but Walter listened with a title to it, scrupled to receive the to their complaints, redressed their grievanslightest pecuniary obligation from his bro- ces as far as he was able, and showed them ther. Perhaps, had their hearts been laid respectby a thousand little acts ofconsideraopen, pride would have been found the only tion, richly worth their cost. Arnold's face quality in which they resembled each other; was of a handsome, proud, and melancholy but Arnold's pride was of an open domineer- cast, finely moulded, but cold and inanimate; ing character, while his brother's was so and the glance of his beautiful dark eye was deep and hidden, as to be scarcely discerni- generally directed to:distant objects, or wanble in his outward actions. Arnold's charac- dered on in listless and dreamy vacuity; teristics, as a boy, were indolence and indif- while Walter, much below his brother in ference; the one arising partly from consti- stature, was equally inferior to him in all tution, partly from the knowledge that he that could strike the attention of the superfishould never be called upon for exertion; the cial observer. His eyes were blue and clear, other from a general distrust of kindness, and usually concentrated in their look, as if and latent suspicion that his money, not him- the faculties of his mind were fixed upon some self, was the object of attraction. Walter powerful image, or strong focus of light, rewould have been enthusiastic almost to mad- vealed only to his inward vision; his lips ness, had it not been for the common sense were thin, firm, and compressed, and all his and correct feeling which kept all the exuber- movements decided, prompt, and energetic; ance of his mind in check: thus he was ac- he had, besides, in very early life, an uncomcustomed to pursue his favorite employments mon flow of animal spirits, so that, before he m secret, to rise early, and sit up late, to la- began to think deeply, he played with more bour and endure, with a pertinacity that was vivacity than any other boy. At the time almost certain to ensure success. What his of the fishing party, the change in his favourite employments were, and what the character had but just appeared. Some degree of mental power he was capable of rude attempts at mechanism, closely conexercising, few people suspected, and none cealed in the remotest corner of his private knew; for he was careless at school, and closet, bore testimony to earnest and grave made little progress in the beaten track of thought; but he had too much of the.boy learning. Arnold was more successful in about him still to sit long at any employment his aquirements, as he was solicitous that no- and he now laughed, shouted, and rowed with thing should be wanting to complete the dig- unrivalled strength and determination. nified and imposing character to which he It was a glorious day. The sun shone aspired. Every one might discover, at the out in cloudless light; the boat glided swiftly first glance, that Arnold was the gentleman; over the waters; the trees bent down their and it needed as little penetration to see that feathery boughs as if to soothe the rippling MISANTHROPY. 9 stream that foamed and fretted against the Arnold looked upon his brother and his rocky shores, and the birds sung sweetly in fair cousin with the same sneer of contempt the distance, until startled from the branches, with which he had first regarded' the group they winged their rapid flight away from of idlers and the patient solitaries farther up this region of peace and beauty. All things the stream. He made no remark; but his above, around and beneath, wore the garb countenance and his character were so well of nature's holiday; and even Arnold, known to all, that they bore along with them charmed out of himself, sent forth his deep- an influence more readily felt than explained. toned voice in a wild and melancholy song. Agnes laid down the line and said she was At length they reached the basin or broad weary; Walter took it up and walked off space in the river, where their sport was to with an air that showed his will, if not his begin. Lightly every foot sprang from the power, to catch every fish in the river; the boat, and Agnes, no less eager than the rest, idlers rose and wondered when the party seizing the line which Walter had prepared, would think it time to eat; the solitaries took her place beside a drooping birch and gave up their fruitless task and gathered waited for her prey. round their friends; while Agnesj ever the Arnold, alone, of all the party, declined to first to perceive and turn away the dark enter into their amusement. Striding from spirit of discontent, ran for the baskets of rock to rock, he quickly disappeared from provisions, and began to place around upon their sight, and winding round a high point the rocks the welcome viands which Mrs. which jutted out into the stream, seated him- Percival had prepared; and fortunate it was self like an eagle upon it height, exalted, in for her endeavors to maintain good humor his own ideas, to as great a superiority over and good will, that they were backed by the the merry creatures he had left, as this soli- keen and healthy appetites of the whole tary rock was above the shallow waters rip- group. Even Arnold could eat; and Walpling at its base. On his difficult and circui- ter, after being summoned by the shrill notes tous path he had gathered handfuls of fern of the bugle, came wandering up from his and wild flowers, each little group a picture retreat. of woodland beauty, enough to send the spirit Agnes had chosen for the place of refreshup to Heaven in the incense of gratitude; ment a sort of picturesque cave or hollow by and now the misanthrope amused himself by the side of the stream, where they were casting them one by one into the stream be- shaded from the sun by the branches of the low, moralizing as they dropped from his feathery birch, and lulled by the ripple of the fingers and fluttered in the summer wind water at their feet. upon the emptiness and worthless of all " Is it not happiness to be!" exclaimed the things. Wearied as man must naturally be delighted girl as Arnold took his wonted with that system of reasoning which tends place beside her; but there was no answer to establish the non-existence of useful ends, in his face to any voice that spoke of happiand wise purposes in the creation, Arnold at ness, and she appealed to Walter the last of last descended from his height and joined the a row of boys seated on the opposite side of party below. Some were reclining in laugh- their sylvan temple. He answered from his ing indolence upon the rocks; some pursu- clear blue eyes with such a look as the ing their amusement in solitary silence; and wounded and weary, the deceived and the others exulting in the triumph of a first bite; deceitful, try in vain to assume j a look that while Walter was busily employed in lead- lasts but seldom beyond the days of our ing Agnes away from the deceitful and slip- childhood; a look that reminds us of a pery shore, to some safer standing-place, ar- higher and purer state of existence, and tells ranging her tackle, and doing every thing more of what we might be than what we for her except draw out her luckless victims. are...,.. _ _... _.,._ 10 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. The feast was ended, the songs sung, and much in its defence, and therefore I will all were ready io renew their sport. never do the like again." "Are you wveary?" asked one. At this instant, a loud splash was heard in "Weary? never!" exclaimed Walter, the water, and a general cry arose from the and he boun led forth again like a young party. "Walter, poor Walter, has fallen in!" fawn upon the dewy plain. Arnold and Ag- Arnold did not stay to hear,aiore. He nes were left alone to their meditations, for was an excellent swinner,, and from the Agnes knew that her grave cousin was no first impulse of a naturally kind heart, he favourite with the boys; "and therefore," leaped into the stream. The hollows said she to herself " as no one wishes for his amongst the rocks were so deep and deceitcompany, I will stay with him, that he may ful, that it was some time before he he sucnot be left entirely alone." ceeded in finding and dragging his bro" So you really like the sport of fishing," ther to the shore. Agnes was at his side in said Arnold. a moment, chafing his temples, his hands, "Oh! yes," replied Agnes, "I like to and his feet, but apparently without avail. look into the bosoml of the clear water where "Let us carry him," said she, "to the it is shaded from the sun, and to see the nearest house; and directly all the boys-ofrocks and pebbles and wild weeds on the fered their services, for Walter was the shore. As for the fishing, I don't care much pride and the joy, of every heart, the prince about that, only it makes an object." of comrades, the king of good fellowship "What a pity," said her cousin, "that and glee. you cannot find a better object. I was Arnold. took upon himself to direct who thinking, as I looked down upon you from should assist and who should not, walking the rock, that amongst all the savage won- at the head of the party, and pointing out a ders of creation, man was the only animal cottage at a short distance from the river. who had refinement enough in his cruelty to Here he stood over his brother in a calm make one living creature a bait for the des- and collected manner, ordering such means truction of another. The tiger, the cat, and to be tried as he believed to be most rational all that relentless tribe, are accustomed to and efficacious; but no sooner did the glow sport with their victims before they devour of life return to the cheeks of Walter and them; but when we see the lion catch the joy to the watchful eyes around him, than butterfly and hang it out as a lure for the Arnold withdrew from the group, and only birds of the air, that he in his turn may prey returned to reassure himself of his brother's upon them, then may we truly say that the safety, and recommend to the boys who had lion in his nature is noble and generous as excitement enough for one day at least, man. I watched you this morning for hours, that they should seek thethe boatmen and make as I sat alone; but with most amazement the best of their way homeward. " And for my eye dwelt upon the figure of a fair young you, Agnes," said he, "i give you your girl, who snatched out in triumph the poor choice: "If you prefer remaining with my inhabitants of the stream, and left them on brother, you shall; if not, I shall endeavor the sandy shore to pant away, in lingering to supply your place." On which Agnes agonies, the miserable remnant of their decided at once to stay, and Arnold walked anlives." the miserable rem, nant of theiroff with the rest. Agnes bent down her head, and blushed When Walter had fully recovered the in silence. At last, after many fruitless at- possession of his facuties, his gratitude was tempts to smile, sne said, " You are too se- beyond bounds. Starting from the bed vere Arnold, upon a small matter; yet now upon which he had been laid, he dressed vere,. Arinkol, uioucnnt say himself in a grotesque suit of clothes belongthat I think of it seriously, I cannot say MISANTHROPY. ing to the cottager's son, and then placing a girl-no! when she raises her tread, and chair beside the fire for Agnes, assured her fixes her grave and earnest eyes upon the over and over again, that he was perfectly over and over again, that he was perfectly countenance of her aunt, you see at once, well, and that she alone was i0 danger of that Agnes Forester is no longer a girl. But suffering. All her kindness and care only suffering. All her kindness and care only why that "sable stole," and meekly braided redoubled his protestations that he felt nothing but health and gladness, and when the hair,-and why t carriage sent for them by Mrs. Percival, ar- naments with which her doating father used carriage sent for them by Mrs. Percivald r- The rived at the door, he assisted his gentle co- to delight to see his child adorned? The fact, that Mr. Forester had been called away sin with as much alacrity and politeness as fact, that Mr. Forester had been called away to his long home, must account for one part if his recent exploit in the water had been no- to his long homne mus t accoun t for one part thing but a dream. The time before they of the change, and the melancholy truth that rhem hentinm eonra- he had left behind him but a scanty pittance reached homewas spent in mutual congra-.tulations hate s shad been no worse: for for his daughter, now thrown actually upon "O h!" said Walter, "it might have been the kindness and protection of her aunt, must account for the other. The anguish of the you dear Agnes, instead of me!' first grief which ever assailed her heart, had given to the once happy face of Agnes a u._,.tinge of melancholy, while certain difficulties arising out of her present situation with a feeling of dependance, and a strong desire to CHAPTER II. adapt herself in every way to what a strict sense of propriety might require, added a PERHAPS the kind reader will not unwilP.~uAs the. reader gravity to her look and general deportment lingly pass on with me over the space of a somewhat beyond her years. Her aunttoo, few short and uneventful years, supposing.. few short and uneventful years, supposing though of a disposition naturally kind, frank by a slight effort of the mind, that according and generous, had just that prompt decided to the usual course of time, the old will have matter-of-fact way of speaking, which, acgrown more grey, the young more grave; w ver he ave companied with a vein of dry sarcast;e huthat a few venerable heads will have bees laid in the quiet tomb, and a few warm t and powerful tendency to hearts have awakened to the conviction that Real up the fountains of a young and tender heart. To magnify small grievances, and life is not altogether a garden of flowers, heart. To magnify small grievances, and that the sun of human happiness does not " weep we scarce know why," are amongst always shine, and that the pictures of imagi- the weaknesses of youth, while our portion nation to maintain any claim to truth, must, nation to maintain any claim to truth, mus, is yet so pleasant, our summer so bright, and like the world which they flatteringly repre- sent,. have thr our hopes so little scathed, that we can afford sent, have their revolutions of night and senthdaye. their revolutions of night andthis expenditure of feeling without any adedaY quate cause. But when watched with critiIn the next place, let us look in upon the cause. cal inspection, and coolly questioned as to parlour of Mrs. Percival, where a comely a y parlou r. P l wthe direct origin of our tears, we learn not to matron with whom time has had none but cease to weep, —alas, no! but to weep only gentle dealings, plies her quick needle, ever cease to weep-alas no but to weep only and anon glancig round to ascertain the pe- in private, and to wear for the public a mask, and anon glancing round to ascertain the perwhose unmeaning and impenetrable aspec fect and systematical adjustment of books, pictures, and vases of summer flowers, with bids defiance to that scrutiny which time and which her elegant apartment is profusely experience have not yet prepared us to bear. adorned. At the opposite side of the table, Thus Agnes Forester, in the presence of her a pale girl dressed in deep mourning is aunt, was a correct, amiable, and well-bebending over a half-finished drawing. A haved young lady, but little more; for the full tide of her warln feelings was only per 12 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. mitted to flow without restrain0in secret and That's very true, and I should be unsolitude. grateful, indeed if I did not miss him sadly; " Which of your cousins do you like best!" but if he went out into the world, I should asked Mrs. Percival, all on a sudden, and have the happiness of knowing that he fixing upon her neice a look, sharp as the would always make friends, and obtain good needle she had just drawn from her work, will from every living thing around him. while Agnes, startled no doubt by the ab- While for Arnold I should feel such dreadful ruptness of the question, blushed the deepest anxiety, lest his character should not be procrimson. perly estimated. Besides, wno would he find " Why do you hesitate, child?" continued to love, of to love him, amongst the multithe aunt, "as if I had plunged you into a tude; or who would ever dive into, and dismetaphysical dilemma." cover, the excellent qualities that lie buried " It is a subject I never thought of before," in his heart. said Agnes, "and it requires time to decide "And pray, may I ask what those excelupon. lent qualities are?" " But which could you best spare? for, as "6 Oh! a deep, mysterious, Byron-like sort they are both likely to leave me soon, I am of virtue." constantly weighing and balancing the losses "I am equally in the dark," replied the I shall sustain." aunt, "with regard to the virtues of the no"Both likely to leave you!" said Agnes, ble poet. Perhaps you will enlighten me." looking up. "A wild, recklessness, disinterestedness, "Yes, both. You know Arnold must go a - something, I hardly know how to to college; and Walter, poor fellow! will give it a name." be obliged to pursue some employment that " And the names you have chosen, my will afford him a maintenance for the fu- dear niece, are so little adapted to my preture." conceived notions of moral excellence, that I " I knew," said Agnes,," that Arnold was confess I hardly understand you. But, passconstantly talking of college, but I did not ing over his wildness and recklessness, as understand that he really meant to go." qualities which I as a mother, am not capa-'I hope he does," replied the mother. ble of appreciating, let me ask in what way," He wants knowledge of men and manners; he has ever shown his disinterestedness'l" he wants association with the world, to.give "Oh! in a thousand ways, dear aunt, if him a better opinion of it. But this is no- you did but know him better. Was it not thing to my purpose; I want to know which he who saved his brother from a watery of them you could best spare. I have weigh- grave." ed the matter myself, and drawn my own " And would not your Newfoundland dog conclusions; and now I ask you, just to know have done the same?" whether you agree with me." "I cannot talk with you," said Agnes, Agnes leaned back in her chair; and half vexed and half amused, "you turn while playing with her pencil, and fixing everything to ridicule." her eyes upon the fire, gave her mind up to "Ah! do not mistake me, replied her itself, more than she was wont to do in the aunt; nor think that a mother can turn to presence of her aunt. ridicule the melancholy infatuation of her "Why, Arnold," said she at last, "is more own child, and of one whom she loves my companion; he rides and walks with me dearly as her own. I thought you had been more than Walter does." better taught, Agnes Forester, than to call. " And yet Walter trains your horse, and that virtue which glitters only in the distemtakes care of your dog, and feeds your birds, pered dream of a delirious poet. Depend and does ten times more for you." upon it, there is little virtue in those charac MISANTHROPY. 13 ters which separate themaelves from the for a heap of ashes. The kindness which chain of human sympathy, and cannot i toop welcomes you into what is called the'boand bend, and devote themselves to the ge- som of society,' is nothing better than a neral good of society." snare to beguile you into an exposure of " There!" exclaimed Arrtld, as he en- your thoughts and feelings, that the vultered just in time to catch tie closing sen- tures who prey upon the peace of their hutence, "there spoke the spirit of one who man victims, may thrust their ravenous deserves a crown of glory from that society beaks into your heart's core. The flattery which she idolizes. Of glory such as no- which hails your approach, is only to lure thing but the flash of the meteor, and the you on to fresh antics for the sport of the glimmer of the glow-worm, and. the sparkle multitude; and the generosity which heaps of the sun-beam on the wave, can rival in honours and favours on your head, has its stability and weight. Are you, my fair cou- tenfold reward in the chains which it is thus sin, taking lessons in my mother's system of enabled to throw around your feet." popularity?:Allow me to add my voice to "And yet," observed Mrs. Percival, coolly, hers. First, then, as a dutiful son, I take up " this society which you vilify, is made up of her earnest injunction, that you stoop, and creatures very much resembling ourselves. bend, and devote yourself to the good of so- You, I suppose, as being most important, ciety. and the better to ensure this laudable personate one of the vultures who prey with end, you shall move amongst mankind upon their naughty beaks. Agnes is amongst the the principle of the serpent, for ever coiling, generous, who throw chains-and since winding, and unfolding, so as to elude - the there is nothing better left for me, I must be attacks of al! enemies, and pierce with poi- of the multitude who laugh;" and, so saysoned fang, under.1e shield of friendship. ing, she left the dignified orator to enlighten In the' game of life,' Cat weary clog which his fair cousin yet further upon the neverwe call a heart, must be cast off and left be- ending source of eloquence, the follies and: hind. You will need nothing of your own, abuses of society. but laughter for the merry and sighs for the sad, good principles for the pious and good wishes for the poor. Add to wr eh, you must be ever ready to lend a spark to the rising star, and a hand to extinguish the CHAPTER III. falling; you must watch the signs of the times, and take the tone of the leader, what- FROM that unfortunate disunion of feeling ever that leader may be. You must have no which too frequently separated Arnold Perfeeling but what serves to animate and cival from all intimate and heartfelt combeautify your face, no prejudices but those munion with his mother, she was accustomed of the friends who surround you; no spleen, to seek relief in the clear, constant, and rabut when you are wanted to fight their bat- tional character of her son Walter; and now, ties; no revenge but for their wrongs; no with a letter in her hand, wh:lvh she had just hatred but for their enemies. With such received for him, she entered Lhe apartment qualifications you may fairly mix in that tkat was considered exclusively his own; whirlpool of base passions, falsehood, and not an elegant dressing-room, rich in decoI weariness which is called society. Believe ations and perfumery, where the interesting me, dear Agnes, there is nothing to repay occupant lounges at ease upon luxurious you for the trial, unless you are longing to sofas, or sits as it were "corporeally amal-, exchange your beauty for vile paint, your gamated with the downy cushions," glanfair brow for wrinkles, your smiles for de- cing over the well-penned, or rather wellceitful blandishments, and your warm heart printed page of a new and fashionable novel; _t b h and your arm..hear 14 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. but a wide, low, half-furnished chamber, with had been fixed, related chiefly to his mother a north aspect, where, before a large table, and her affairs; but the account wound tiup spread over with papers and plans, rough- with the training of a new pony, so as to drawings, estimates, and valuations, the make it gentle enough for Agnes to ride. young engineer was accustomed to spend "I think said Mrs. Percival, looking out half the day, and sometimes half the night. of the window, "you need feel no anxiety "I have brought you a letter," said Mrs. about the pony; Arnold's young horse seems Percival, handing it to him; and Walter, to suit Agnes so well. See l see I how she'aking out his penknife, cut round the wax reins it in." But Walter was, or at least ap with as much exactness as if he had been a peared to be, busy again at his work, from collector of seals. With lips compressed, which he was not the man to be beguiled by and eye steady and sedate, he glanced over the ambling of a high-mettled steed; and its contents, and then presented it to his such was his dislike to see a woman brought mother. into any sort of difficulty or danger, without It was the letter he had long been anx- a good and sufficient reason, that he neither lously expecting, and came to inform him saw, nor wished to see, how skilfully Agnes that a situation for which he had applied could manage Arnold's horse, some time ago, was now open to himh The road which the equestrians had cho"This is just what you wished for," said sen was particularly suited to the taste and Mrs. Percival, returning the letter; and she feelings of the misanthrope; for it led them would have congratulated her son on the to the brow of a bold promontory, where success of his application, but for a sudden they were surrounded by scenes of rugged difficulty she felt in accompanying her words andilonely grandeur, amidst which man in with that cheerfulness of look and manner, his civilized and social state, could hardly without which congratulations can be of little find a restilg place. Here, when the storm value. And Walter, too, kept his eyes closely was raging, amtd the breakers dashed against fixed upon the elevation of a bridge which the white rocks, and curled in foaming eddies lay before him, while he expatiated upon his far up into the echoing caves, Arnold would good fortune, as if he wished to make him- often come, and stand a silent and delighted self desire it more than he really did. spectator of the warring elements. But now "And when l-" asked Mrs. Percival; the sun had risen upon a clear and smiling but she could say no more, for she felt then day, and the wind was so still that the leaves in losing this excellent son, the repose of her scarce fluttered on the topmost boughs, and heart in its domestic sphere would be gone therefore Arnold had asked his cousin Agnes -the charm of happiness which bound her to join him in his ride; and she, with that to her own fire-side would be brok'e. submissive gentleness with which women are "I suppose," said Walter, rising, and sometimes too apt to bow to lofty and comaffectionately taking his mother's hand, "I manding spirits, had laid aside her pencil suppose it must be soon. When a hard task and her books, and equipped herself for a has to be accomplished, the more speedily morning's excursion-perhaps not unwilwe commence with it the better. Were I lingly; for to say nothing of the interesting to wait until I really felt in my heart that I companion which Arnold could make himwas willing to leave you, I should be here self when he chose to condescend, riding itfor ever: and yet I would gladly have been self was a perfect delight to her; and the allowed more time." And he fell into a sort fresh air that swept over the high promonof reverie, in which he recounted, as if think- tory, at whose base the mighty ocean was ing aloud, the many things he wished to slumbering, the cry of innumerable sea-birds have accomplished before his departure from perched upon the ledges of the cliffs, or home. These services, upon which his heart stretching their white wings, and sailing MISANTHROPY. 15 away —-away over the blue depth of silent solitary musing. With stout and manly efwaters, the sunbeams dancing on the pebbly forts, he now pushed off from the shore, and shore, now revealing the minute and exqui- Agnes, to whom the air and exercise of the site workmanship of nature in the feathery morning had given more than her wonted sea-weed and the sparkling shells, and then share of freshness and beauty, seated herself lighting up the bold outlines of stupendous like his good genius beside him. rocks, and throwing back their shadows far "Look Arnold," said she, clasping her and deep —all combined to give life, and joy, hands with enthusiasm, " look at the white and animation, to one who was peculiarly rocks now! Hark! to the cry of the sea formed for that happiness which derives a birds, and the roar of the surf in those holperpetual supply from the grandeur, and. low caves. And then the clear depth bebeauty, and harmony, of the creation. neath us! —Behold what a world is below! Arnold, too, was wont to feel a lighter and Masses of stupendous magnitude like the more genial spirit stirring within him, when cliffs above, down, down to an immeasuraaway from the haunts of man; nor was Ag- ble depth! Think if we should strike upon nes the less happy that hers was the only some of their rugged and frightful pinnacles companionship which his reserved and which are barely discernible through the gloomy nature could brook. deceitful water; if a gale should arise, or a "He hates mankind, but he does not hate whirlpool draw us in with its devouring,me; to others he is sullen and unsocial, but strength!"to me generous and kind; the chords which "Then we should die together!" said Arproduce nothing but harsh and discordant nold, and Agnes looked up into his face to sounds for the vulgar ear, are turned to see if there was more in his words than'met melody for mine;" was the frequent lan- the ear.' guage of her heart, which bounded with tri- Accustomed to behold him on all occaumphant gladness at the thought; and, with sions with eyes cold and averted, she now the happiness of one who rejoices over a se- blushed to find, that for the first time in her cret treasure, fully sensible of its intrinsic life, they were fixed upon her with tenderworth, though aware that others are not ca- ness and deep interest; for such was the pable of estimating its value, she uttered high tone of his reserved and stately characmany a cordial response to the fitful and ca- ter, and such more especially had been his pricious revealings of that heart, which ex- uniformly respectful delicacy towards herposed its internal workings to no eye but self, that she had never before been remind-. hers. ed by look or word, of the probability that he After standing for some time upon a com- could be more to her than a brother. manding height, which overlooked the sea, How mighty and mysterious are the influArnold proposed that they should leave their ences of association, which strike the multihorses at a small inn, frequented chiefly by tudmous keys of thought and feeling, somefishermen, and situated in a deep ravine times ringing a thousand changes upon a which opened through precipitous cliffs single word or an unexpected look! down to the only landing place in their im- For some time Agnes remained in silent mediate neighbourhood. Here, in a little musing, her head turned away from Arnold, sandy creek, lay Arnold's own boat, in which, and her hand drooping down, so as just to not only when the waves were calm as now, touch the sparkling waters that rippled but sometimes when it needed a steady brain against the side of the boat. Her eye wanand adventurous spirit to tempt their awak- dered over the wide scene of splendour and ened fury, he was accustomed to work his beauty that was spread before her, and appassage through the breakers, and then rest- parently her mind went along with it into ing on his oars would dream away hours of the clefts and fissures of the rocks, where the!,. II;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ 16 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. sea-weed lay in dark and heavy masses, or happiness enough in this life to make then high up to the promontory's brow, or far into wish for eternity, and just sufficient sufferine the horizon, where a few white sails were and trial to fit them for everlasting enjoy. seen like aerial beings winging their flight ment. That it is not only in the sunbeams to a distant, it might be, to a happier land. and the ocean, and the free air of the wilder. Alas! no! her thoughts had now little to do ness, that we feel his goodness; but in th( with the loveliness of nature. Her imagina- power and might of human intellect, in the tion was in the land of visions, conjuring up unshackled intercourse of mind, and in the strange pictures of the future, in which the kindly affections of relationship and home." only actors that appeared in her air-built "And how would you teach this to me castles were herself, and that mysterious and "To those who can feel, there are man) unfathomable being who seemed formed to ways of teaching. But, come, it is time t( be the ruler of her destiny. return. "Here," said Arnold, replacing his oars and folding his arms, "here is loneliness enough. Ah! give me the inhospitable desert, where I may breathe and move in freedom; or the wide waste of boundless ocean, CHAPTER IV. where upon its restless bosom'I still may ride and sleep.''V WHEN the equestrians reached Mrs. Perci. "And here," said Agnes, "would it be val's door, Walter appeared as usual, as i your happiness to be alone?" by a kind of magic which brought him al "' No, not alone. If any mortal mixture of ways to the very spot where Agnes wishe( earth's mould could be found, whose sense of to dismount, and at the very moment whex enjoyment was like my own; and not of she wanted a helping hand, and was happ3 enjoyment only, but of wrong, and injury, to find a cheerful welcome back. To-day and weariness, and oppression.-No, Agnes, however, she only answered by a slight in there is not, there cannot be a creature con- slination of her head, and scarcely a single stituted like myself." smile to Walter's congratulations on her safe " But is it necessary that the people with return; nor did she appear either surprise( whom we live should have feelings and pre- or deeply interested, when he said, in a quie judices like our own?" and unobtrusive manner, as they walked to "Ah! there you touch the root of my gether into the house, "I am going to leav, malady. I cannot live with people. If I you, Agnes." hold any companionship, it must be with one' Going to leave us! When I." being, and one only, and if that being could "To-morrow, I believe." not look upon human nature with sentiments "What, so soon!" like mine-if she brought with her a bright But all this was said with such a care eye, a resy cheek, and a heart warm and so- less and wandering eye, that Walter, whos cial as your own; how then could she en- heart had been full enough before, turner dure my moodiness, or sacrifice the bloom of suddenly away from his unfeeling cousin her life to the premature winter of mine i"' and scarely exchanged another word wit] " She would endeavor," said Agnes, lay- her during the rest of the day. ing her hand upon his arm, " to make the It is true her behaviour appeared unfeeling misanthrope less moody. She would tell to one who was looking, on this occasion a him that the wide universe, even in whose least, for a little sympathy-a little kindness deserts are fountains of delight, was created in return for all that he had lavished upon her by a Being wise and merciful, who has al- but it is fortunate for the human heart tha lowed to the creatures of his formation just it cannot feel at all points at the sam, MISANTHROP'Y. 17 time; and Agnes had seen a sort of vision gathered rot id her, amongst which her that morning, which left her little interest for cousin Arnold'ore no isigmficant part. the realities around her. Every developmes * of his mysterious characThe evening of the same day was spent ter was examined,'mired, and dwelt upon. by Walter and his mother in all the bustle of Looks, words, and C.'umstances, were repreparation, in which he appeared to take an called; comparisons w, e drawn; disjointunusually active part, hurrying from room to ed things were united; qua ities the most oproom with a firm and determined step, as if posite to each other were econciled and the very violence with which he trod the mingled; and then all were woven together floors at the same time trampled down some into that frail and fantastic garr ent which painful and almost uncontrolable feeling. imagination throws over the future) beautiThe mighty business of packing was at last fying, in the distance, that which, on a nearer nearly completed; unloaded shelves and approach, may prove to be nothing better empty drawers were again examined, and than a waste or a ruin. one thing only was wanted-a piece of music, With the first dawn of the morning, Walwhich Agnes had copied for him, and which ter arose and looked out upon the.dewy was still amongst her own, beneath the piano lawn. " Here they will wander in the cool in the drawing-room. His strong hand evening," thought he, "when I am panting trembled when he touched the door; but he in the dust of the city. But it matters not. did open it at last; and there, half shrouded I will never eat the bread of idleness; and in the muslin drapery of the window, stood when I can assist my mother, she will be his cousin and his brother, with the pale moon- better able to afford a home for Agnes;beams shining on them through the fringe of perhaps Agnes will not need one then," jessamine, which formed a canopy above, was the thought which followed; and there and sent forth its delicious odours through is no knowing where his meditations might the casement, now thrown open to admit the have carried him, had not his mother tapped sweet scents and sounds of summer's twilight gently at his door, and asked some kind hour. question about his comfort. It was evident The two friends, who looked so much like that the night had not been to her a season lovers, were carrying on an earnest conver- of rest; and, with tearful eyes she now sation in low murmurs, which was hardly in- called her son to join her at that melancholy terrupted by Walter's entrance. Quick as place of meeting-an early breakfast-table, thought, he turned over all the music, and before a painful separation and a long jourthen, snatching up the piece he wanted, ney. Together they left the room; but stumbled over an ottoman, and hurried out Walter stood behind for one moment, as of the room, humming a merry tune as he they passed his cousin's door, to hear if there went. was any sound within; but he never trusted Whether Agnes had never been told that himself with her name, and Mrs. Percival was her cousin would leave early in the morning, too much absorbed in her own griefs to recolor whether, after being told, she had really lect that any thing could aggravate his. forgotten it, does not appear very decided. As for Arnold, there was no reason why When she retired to rest that night, however, he should disturb himself in the morning, fbr she had no definite idea that, to see him he had visited his brother in his own chamagain before his departure, it would be ne- ber the night before, and very properly taken cessary to shake off her slumbers long before leave of him there. So, Walter sat down the usual hour; nor, indeed, if she had been with his mother, and tried to drink her scaldtold, would this have been easily accomplish- ing tea, and to swallow the food which she ed; for sCeep was long that night in visiting continually pressed upon his plate. His her eyelids-such lively and varied images watch lay beside him on the table, and he 18 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. would have given something just then to grown more cold and distant, and she hardly know what length of time was required for knew whether her company was agreeable a young lady to dress. One quarter after to him or not. But she would go directly another passed away, and Walter grew al- and look for him in the garden, and ask him ternately hot and cold, red and white, hurt if there was any thing she could do. and irritated; and yet, no sound was heard On her descent to the garden with this upon the stairs. At last, when the half laudable resolution, Agnes was met by a hour which he had allowed himself had boy bringing home her dog. fairly expired, he took up the watch, and re- " Where have you been, Peter'?" said she, turned it to his pocket, with the air of one " and who told you to take my dog?" who has " decidedly given the matter up;" "Mr. Walter, ma'am," replied the boy, and having done this, he had more thoughts "' gave me strict orders to exercise him every to spare for his mother, and consequently day. He chose to walk two miles with him took leave of her with the warmth and ten- himself this morning, on purpose, as he said, derness of one whose heart was almost ex- to play with the poor animal for the last clusively her own. time, and to show me how to make him take Something after this he seemed to have to the water, and then to rub his coat, and forgotten, and although the domestics would all how I am to manage him; for, as he said, any of them have run up stairs or down in an just as the coach was driving up,' the poor instant, esteeming it a privilege to serve him, fellow perhaps would miss him more than he either could not or would not explain ex- some others would.' " actly what he had left behind; but hurrying This reproach, simple as it was, and altoback to his own room, strode along the pas- gether unintentional, struck Agnes to the sage with such a tremendous tread as heart; and she retired to her own room to would, he thought, have been enough to pour out the bitter and burning tears of self awaken the "seven sleepers of Christen- condemnation. dom." But no-it would not do. Young The coach which Walter had chosen as ladies can sometimes sleep very soundly the most suitable vehicle for himself and when their cousins are going away; and his sorrows, was one much celebrated for Walter, when he looked back to the house, its rapid and furious progress; and though and up to the second row of windows, saw no often inclined to pity the poor horses, he white handkerchiefwaving as a farewell sign. was upon the whole well pleased with the There are few things in life more hateful speed with which he passed through the than the first conviction we feel of our own air; the dangerous swing of the carriage, ingratitude to those who we know will be the shrill notes of the bugle, and the wonder deeply pained by our neglect. and acclamation with which the arrival of Before Agnes had quite finished the du- such a vehicle is always hailed by the unties of her toilet, at a late hour that morn- tiring rabble, supplying the stimulus which ing, the thought struck her that it was he wanted from without, to relieve that possible Walter might be gone; and that, which was somewhat too intense within. even if he were not, she had much to atone It was a close and sultry evening when for in her unkindness the day before; for this gallopping phenomenon reached the she had not done him the slightest service, suburbs of the metropolis, whirling along in nor even made him the offer of any. And an increased vortex of dust and impurity, then she excused herself by thinking that the horses foaming and panting in the heated her aunt was one who never wished for help; atmosphere, the coachman stunning the and Walter, too, was of the same indepen- ears of his fellow travellers with oaths and dent spirit; besides, he had not been so rude jests, the busy multitude through which pleasant lately as he used to be. He had they now passed evincing their metropoli MISANT HIR OPY. 19'an indifterence by the apathy with which cannot bless.' It is happier to feel that there they looked up from amongst their heaps of is a chain which binds you to some human withered vegetables, or peeped from the fellowship, even though that chain should be still more disgusting appendages to the en strained to its utmost stretch: than to stand trance of the slaughterers' dens, wiping their alone as I do, and to know.that in your mowrinkled brows with well-worn aprons, and ments of weakness, you can have no support kicking the lean dogs that came to smell beyond yourself." (for, alas! they might not taste) their dainty " Ah! now," said Agnes, "you speak as viands. Then the rattle of carts and car- I would always have you speak. Why, riages, and, beyond in the distance, the un- iwhy should you be oppressed with this misceasing and interminable din of this human erable loneliness, when the world has so hive! What a situation for the heart-sick many warm hearts for those who will but traveller, whose senses had been awakened seek and value them?" in childhood to the music of summer birds, " But none for me, Agnes. It is my desthe murmuring of pure waters, the green tiny to be for ever pining for something pastures and flowery meadows, the scent of which I cannot find in this weary life; somehay fields, and all the sweet sounds and thing more constant and sincere than the sights that fill up the treasury of nature. general character of society affords; someCould Walter have looked back to the thing deeper and more durable than that allscenes of his childhood,-to the favourite prevailing and palpable mockery which you haunts of his maturer years, he would have call friendship." seen, at the very same hour which first found " The ties of relationship," said Agnes, him a weary and comfortless inhabitant of the " when rightly estimated, afford us much of city, a little boat pushed off from a rocky strength and consolation in seasons of trial shore against which the idle waves were and difficulty. Have you not a mother, gently heaving with a regular and lulling *whose devotedness to her children is most sound, while all beyond was bright and exemplary, and a brother'-" silent as a sea of glass. The shadows of "My mother," replied Arnold, "has no the majestic cliffs fell far over the sleeping longer that affection for me which constitutwaters, while here and there, a bold frag- ed the happiness of my childhood. The ment of rock caught the last tinge of gold- melancholy fact is, that I have worn it out en sunset, and the western sky was lighted by my morose and sullen temper. My up with such refulgence, that the waving brother, too, whether from the difference tendrils of wild plants which grew upon the which he feels in our circumstances, or from brow of the precipice were shaped out in some other inexplicable cause, has become clear and distinct outline. It was almost reserved and distant towards me, sothat profanation to disturb the stillness of such a you, Agnes, are the only being upon earth scene even with the splashing oar; so Ar- to whom I can open my heart, or communinold rested from his labours, and Agnes, cate the feelings most intimately connected bending over the side of the boat, seemed to with it." watch the feathers of the sea-bird as they "Shall I tell you," replied Agnes, why sailed past her on the surface of the gliding others cannot, or rather do not, share in current. that intimacy which I enjoy? It is because " Poor Walter!" said she, at last, with an your character is never unveiled before them. involuntary sigh. It would be unreasonable to expect that any "I should say happy Walter," observed one should love us because of the mere cirArnold. " Who would not rather bid adieu cumstance of our existence, or even for some to breaking hearts, than live for ever with latent feeling of regard which lies dormant those who cannot bless them-whom they at the bottom of our hearts, unknown. to any 22 20 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. being but ourselves. There must be a mu- so callous to all other feelings, Well did tual understanding, occasionally an un- the poet say, reserved exposure of the inner mind, accom he ourse true d smoot..the course of true lodve neve~r did fiun' stnooths. panied by innumerable little acts of kindness and consideration to constitue the happiness for here is my poor niece wasting her young and the durabilty of all earthly attachments, affections upon this statue of a mnar, who Your heart is bound up within too narrow a will never make her any other return than compass; all its best feelings which might in cold civilities, and long stories about his shoot up and flourish, and bring forth fruits own dark destiny; and blindly overlooking, of gladness, and beauty, and benefit to man- slighting, and forgetting the kindest and kind, return without having found an object, most generous heart that ever warmed a and fall back upon itself with deadly and human bosom." oppressive weight. Oh I be to others what It is possible that Agnes Forrester was you are to me, and they will-they must"- not quite so blind as her wise aunt suspect"love you," she would have added, and the ed; for a woman's heart does not always go time was when she could have spoken these along with her judgment, but will sometimes words with the same earnest gravity, and strike off in an oblique direction, leaving the without one thought of shame; but now her intellectual faculties to wonder at its eccencheek was spread over with a burning blush, tric movements. Besides which, the alland her eyes looked away from him whom powerful influence of society has so fettered she was addressing, and she found out again us with the chains of false delicacy, that we that it was time to return home, for the moon are not, an any account, to suspect the dewas just rising over the silvery waters, and signs of a gentleman until an offer of marthe distant line of coast grew indistinct in the riage has really and bona fide passed his dimness of summer twilight. lips: and Agnes, like many other girls of her age, and in her circumstances, was glad to lay hold of the plea for continuing her intimacy with Arnold. "For I have yet no right," said she, with a sigh, "'to suppose CHAPTER V. that he values me in any other way than as the playmate of his youth; and if he ever ALTHOUGH the departure of Walter Perci- should, it will be time enough to take into val was felt as a severe loss by every mem- account his capability for making a good ber of his mother's household, she herself husband, when he offers himself as one." was the only inconsolable sufferer; and -Now there was something in this last much she wondered that Agnes, who had homely expression that always brought a shared so largely in his kindness, and, she chill along with it, when applied to her coususpected, in his love, should go about her sin Arnold; and yet what must all their sailusual occupations as cheerfully as if no in. ing, dreaming, and moon-gazing come to, road had been made upon her sphere of en- but either this or nothing, joyment. It is true, she sometimes be- "Oh! that I could ask counsel of my moaned his absence, and exclaimed, "How aunt," said she; but Arnold was at that inmuch I miss poor Walter 1" but her looks stant by her side, and she asked counsel only were not exactly suited to her words, and of her own heart. Mrs. Percival was little gratified to hear "Has my mother told you," asked he, her favourite son perpetually spoken of as "that I am really going to try my fortune at " poor Walter!" college?" "There must oe, and there is, a reason," "She has; and I only wonder'.hat I never said the sage lady to herself " why Agnes is heard it from yourself." MISANTHROPY. 21 "it is so impossible for me to believe any sound in the wide realm of nature was sancone interested in my fate," replied the mis- tified by the idea of being seen, heard, and anthrope, " that if any thi'ng extraordinary felt together fol the last time. were to happen to me, which I must reveal, How scornfully can those who are hackI believe I should tell it to the winds and neyed in the sayings and doings of busy life waves."' look down from the citadel of the world and Agnes bent down her head, and the deep laugh at the loves and the follies of their shadow of her long, dark eye-lashes conceal- early years! but is there not more of bittered the glistening of her tears. ness than mirth in such laughter? and would "I Wonder,' said she at last, "what earth- they not give all the wealth of the peopled ly token, what pledge or proof, in word or city to see again, with eyes that were lighted deed, Would be stificient to convince you from within, and to walk once more in the that yoi were dear to any human heart." sunshine of their own hearts. It is not thus "I never feel so near that blessed truth," with the happy few who are reaping the reanswered he, "as when I am in your pre- ward of a well-spent life. They can look senCe; but one hout of solitary musing al- back with as little of contempt as regret upon ways undeceives me, and I am lonely and the enjoyments of youth, that live in recoldesolate again." lection like the roses of summer, when the "Oh. do not indulge in these unsocial cold snows are sleeping on the groundand unprofitable musings," said Agnes, for- faded and fallen, it is true, yet fair and faithgetting, in her earnest warmth, all that had'ful pledges that the blessings which have so lately occupied her thoughts: " you are been may yet be again: that the power not lonely-you never shall be desolate!" which first created can still renew; and Arnold began to think his hour was at that every particle of our past or present hand; and, had he been subject to sudden happiness is an emanation from that source impulses, the spell which bound his gentle which is able to fill the future with eternal cousin to him'with more than sisterlyaftection joy. would, probably, have been broken, then and It was not easy for the two friends to conthere, by a fall disclosure of his hopeg and verse on any lightor trivial topic, and all the wishes. But he knew her firm character too subjects which had lately afforded them the well to risk any thing by rash confidence;'deepest interest, on this day appeared to be and therefore they sailed together again accompanied with too close a relation to their upon'the quiet sea, and Agnes scrupled not own individual'feelings to be either safe or to be still like a shadow by his side. pleasant ground to touch upon. Conse" Let us go out, for the last time, in my quently, they rode on in almost unbroken sitrim boat upon the ocean;' said Arnold, the lence, yet each occupied by the sanme train day before he was to leave home'; for it is *of reflections, thinking, as it were, into each one of'the.characteristics of a melancholy other's minds, feeling simultaneously, and temperament, lhat when any sort of plea- understanding without words. sure does by Accidenit occur, it shall be sup- Arrived at Arnold's favourite point of obposed to be for'the Zast iirne; and Agnes servation, they stood upon the bold promonheard the mournful and prophetic tone in -tory, and gazed once more upon the wide which these words were tttered with as sad expanse of waters. " Without a mark, witha counltehanre as evef Arnold himself could out a bound," it lay before them like the desire. ocean of infinity, on which their thoughts It was a clear autumnal day. The yellow were floating. Arrnold's tall and commandfields and variegated woods were clothed in ing figure stood upon a point of projecting more than real beauty to the youthful and rock, and Agnes, in her gentler character, iTomianiic wanderers,'and every,sight and held her wonted rstation, like a siste spiat, 22 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. at his side. There is no human sentimental- that name) to be born in one particular naist who would not have pronounced these tion, with a certain form and complexion, and two beings to have been created for each not improbably with some peculiar tendency other's happiness; but there is much to be of constitution, both mental and bodily; but done in the world, besides looking, thinking, are all our reasoning faculties, with the power or even feeling in unison with those we love; to choose and adopt our own habits, to go and life is altogether a very different scene for nothing, while we float down the stream from a sea-view on a sunny day. of time as weak and worthless as the weeds Lightly upon the glassy surface of the upon this wave? And, above all, is the grand ocean did Arnold's little boat glide off from working of an Almighty power pledged to asthe rocky shore; and when he rested upon sist our feeble efforts, not to be called in to his oars, there was such solemn beauty ltnd promote the great end of our being, to comstillness all around, that Agnes was less dis- plete outr preparation for a higher and happosed than ever to interrupt the harmony by pier state of existence?" any words of her own. Still she had had "I hear your voice," said Arnold, "like much to say to her cousin before he left his the music of an angel's lyre. It charms me home, and how could she answer to her con- with strains in which I cannot join. It tells science if she wasted this last opportunity? me of joys which never, never can be mine." We have not yet said that Agnes Forester "Oh! do not speak to me in poetry. I.was beautiful, but there was something more have given myself up too much to ideal hapthan beauty in every change and movement piness. This may possibly be the last time of her expressive countenance. Even in its that we shall ever share together that happy repose there was more to be learned, ad- confidence which has been the blessing of mired, and felt, than in the most loquacious my life; and none can hear those boding efforts of many of her sex; and, now, when words with more true sadness of heart than her heart was labouring with a burden of I do now." disinterested anixiety and love, Arnold could For a few moments Agnes turned away not choose but gaze upon her face, to read her face, it might be to conceal her tears, there what her lips seemed unable to utter. but she quickly resumed-" I have often At last she spoke, and the very tenderness thought it would be an excellent plan for of her expression showed how far were her friends about to separate, each to impress thoughts from dwelling upon herself. upon the mind of the other, as their parting " I have often wished, dear Arnold, for the charge, what they most wished them to bear -power of conveying my sentiments to you in mind when absent." without the use of words, and never more so "Tell this to me," said Arnold, "and dethan at this moment; when I seem to have pend upon my faithfulness." no proper language to express the deep and "I have no scruple," replied Agnes, " in earnest desire which I feel for your happi- saying, that you can in no way add to my ness. Not merely for your successful studies, happiness more effectually than by endeayour satisfactory allotment in life, or any con- vouring, consistently with the designs of sideration confined to your temporal good; Providence, to promote your own." but that you may shake off that heavy stu- Arnold looked disappointed; and when por which paralyzes the faculties of your Agnes appealed to him for this last duty tomind, and stand forth amongst your fellow wards herself, he coldly replied, that he knew men as good and noble as the best." of no fault she had to correct; and as to any "It is my fate, Agnes. It was born with thing that would merely make him happy, me, and will haunt me to the grave." he hoped he never should be selfish enough " But what is it that makes our fate? It to wish for that. s indeed our fate (if you choose to give it "This plan of mine," said Agnes with a lMISANTHROPY. 23 sigh, " does not appear to answer; for, if I conjecture; for you compel me to express guess right, we are both mutually disap- my full conviction, that with one whose senpointed in the result. You, because I have timents and feelings are like your own, there asked almost the only thing you would not could be no real happiness." do to please me; and I, because your an- "'You are right," exclaimed Arnold with swer convinces me that you do not love me: bitterness. " It would be worse than folly for, since we are all imperfect creatures, to unite yourself to misery. In this world, I have no idea of that love which does not where truth and sincerity of feeling are without seek to improve its object: and how can this worth or value, no man should ask a woman be done, when there is wilful blindness to to share his fortune, without he could offer each other's defects?" her a light heart and sunny brow, and a' Think anything but that," said Arnold, home of unceasing merriment and joy. You affectionately taking her hand. "Agnes are right, Agnes Forester, to asK yourself Forester, you have seen me as I am. My na- where would be the gain. I should be a ked soul has been revealed to you without dis- dull companion for a winter's evening, and guise; for I would scorn to purchase what I you know it well." most desire by false pretensions, of any kind " Hear me again," said Agnes, as she apwhatever. Yet I know, and have long pealed to him through her tears, that now known, that for any one to see me thus and were falling without control. " You wrong love me, would be impossible. And when I me, Arnold, if you think it is for myself only tell you that all the affection I am capable of that I am speaking. You compel me to say feeling is centred in you, that you are the more than woman should say; to tell you, good angel that must decide my destiny, and that I am unable to imagine any gratification that I should long since have disclosed to my natural feelings, so great as that of these, my real sentiments, but for the cow- cheering yourhours ofmoodinessand sorrow; ardly dread of breaking the spell which has and that I would rather share your forbeen the only comfort of my life, I await tune, were it humble as my own, than be set your answer without fear; for those who apart for the brightest destiny that ever fell hope nothing, escape the anguish of disap- to the lot of mortals. But in this world we pointment. Yet speak to me, dear Agnes, live not for the enjoyment of the present mofor I would hear the last fatal sound, like ment only, and marriage is a holy and enthe closing of the prison-door upon the during bond; and woe betide the woman criminal, rather than my darkness shouldbe who enters into it with base or selfish views. again disturbed by such faint and distant Either you must be aware that the sentigleams of forbidden happiness, as even I at ments you entertain of human life, and the times have conjured up." duty of man to his fellow-man, are widely A deep blush, like the crimson glow of at variance with what I believe to be right, evening, when it suddenly bursts fbrth upon or my words have hitherto strongly belied every cloud and wave, and headland of the my thoughts. I know not how far a blind western shore, had risen to the face of Agnes and idolatrous love might in time carry me while Arnold was speaking. Thrice she on towards conformity with your views, or strove to answer; but the tears that fell how it might soothe me into a dangerous one. after another from her downcast eyes and luxurious repose in the midst of that enseemed to be flowing with too full a tide for joyment which I am unable to think of anywoids. At last she mastered her rebellious where but with you; but I am not blind heart, and replied,-"-Arnold, I have long now; I wish not to make an idol even of loved you with what I believed to be the affec- you; I cannot conscientiously say I believe tion of a sister. What that affection might that, in the present state of your mind, you have become it would be fruitless now to could assist me to correct my own. I am 24 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. far from the presumption of taking charge "I am bound to be satisfied," said he; both of your soul and mine; and I know "but, nevertheless, I think the man who is that I must answer at the last day for the worth trying is worth trusting." decision of this moment." "I do trust you, Arnold, as I woulu trust " Ah! make me what you will," exclaim- no other man. You have now the opportued Arnold. "If this be all the barrier nity of deceiving me, but I know you will not betwixt us, you shall mould me to your use it unfairly; and I rely as implicitly upon wishes." your candour and sincerity in this instance, Agnes shook her head. " It is easy," as I ever did before. But let us clearly unreplied she, "to say that we are willing to derstand each other ere we separate. It be moulded by those we love; but would it seems to be on the important subject of duty, not be safer and wiser to submit to the that our sentiments differ so widely. I nlainmoulding of Him who first created us; for tain, that a life of usefulness alone can be a we know not that those whom we most ad- life of happiness, and that every human bemire are able to form a correct notion of ing has the power of being useful in some what is fitted to our individual good; but way or other according to his circumstances we do know that a wise Providence has and natural capability." placed us here for his own gracious pur- " With the former part of your statement I poses; and that he will require us to render fully agree,-that none can be happy who are an account of how these purposes have been useless and inactive; but to my own case I fulfilled. A vain woman may persuade her- cannot apply the latter, for I believe there self that she has power to change the char- will ever be a blight upon all my endeavours acter of the man who loves her; but I am to serve my fellow-creatures." not yet to learn that the change which is " And with you it is very probable that wrought merely for the sake of a fellow- such an idea should exist, for your endeacreature can neither be lasting nor sincere." vours have hitherto been made more in the "Agnes," said Arnold,' you are a sage, way of sudden efforts or convulsions arising cold reasoner; you know not what it is to from the impulse of the moment, than from love." that "steady and systematic application of c" How is it possible to convince you that energy and zeal, which is necessary to enI do?" sighed Agnes; and after musing for sure any beneficial result. And even here, I a while, with her eyes fixed upon the distant find my views are essentially different from horizon, she resumed —" If it is so easy to yours; for I cannot believe any one to be exchange the heart, and to adopt new habits empt from the duty of loving and serving his of thinking and feeling, this may surely be fellow-creatures, even if, as you say, a blight done, as well before a bond is entered into should be upon all his endeavours; because as after. I therefore give you twelve months that duty is one which we owe to a Being of from this time to approximate to the charac- infinitely higher authority than man, and is ter which I most desire you should be. All strictly enjoined in the Holy Scriptures as a the assistance that my limited knowledge test of our obedience and faith. and unlimited affection can afford, shall be "I have often thought, it is by looking too at your command; and oh! if the day should much to the effect of good endeavours, by ever come!"-but she checked her enthusi- expecting too immediate an evidence of our asm, and turned away from those earnest usefulness on earth, that many well-meaning eyes, that reminded her she might possibly people are discouraged and thrown back into say, as well'as hope too much. stupor and despondency; forgetting that He, " You are not satisfied," said Agnes to her who has appointed our task, has bestowed a moody companion, after they had both been blessing upon the performance of it, by maksilent for some time. ing us happy in the use of the means, while MISANTHROPY. 25 He reserves to himself the mystery of the shall withhold the meed of admiration from end. Thus there can be no disappointment her who refuses from principle the man attendant upon the service of the humble whom she is most inclined to love; voluntaChristian; because, whatever he may have rily pronouncing her own sentence, cutting sacrificed, or lost, or suffered, he has still off her own hopes of that domestic enjoybeen faithful to his Heavenly Master, and in ment which is dearest to a woman's heart! that faithfulness itself, not in its effect upon Agnes Forester had been accustomed even others, is the only sure and lasting happiness from childhood to habits of serious thought, which this world can afford," and the circumstance of having no mother Arnold was now silent, and Agnes, sur- to watch over her early years, by throwing prised at having been carried away into a her upon her own resources, had confirmed style of speaking so different from her usual this habit, and made it the most striking manner, endeavoured to atone for having feature of a character, otherwise natural, occupied the time too much with her own cheerful, and energetic. words, by saying no more until they reached On the day of Arnold's departure, she was the shore. Here her favourite dog awaited more serious than usual, and fearing that her return, and glad to break through the Mrs. Percival might attribute her want of cold solemnity which had somehow or other lively spirits entirely to the loss of her cousin's stolen over her companion and herself, she company, she determined, that before she stooped down to receive his caresses with slept that night, her aunt should be in posmore than her wonted warmth. session of the confidence to which she was so " Happy fellow!" exclaimed Arnold, with fully entitled. a look of scorn, " you have no probation to With generous minds confidence does not endure. It is better to be a dog than a often form a subject of regret. Mrs. Perci man." val was always most amiable when trusted, "Is it better," answered Agnes, "to have and Agnes, when she retired to rest, felt, not had nothing committed to your care, than only that an important duty had been disto return your talent and receive ten?" charged, but almost as if she had found, for the first time, a firm and substantial friend. There was now no mystery between the aunt and niece; and, though Mrs. Percival sometimes sighed over the little interest which CHAPTER VI. the name of Walter excited, she could not but admire and commend her niece for the THERE are few things in life that make a decision which she had made. woman more serious than the necessity of Agnes was not a girl to sing love songs to deciding whether she will accept or reject the moon. Perhaps no one could be capable the hand which is most agreeable to her in of a deeper or more lasting attachment; but the world. Until this important crisis in her her life was filled up with active duties, and fate arrives, she appears to be but a passive she had neither time nor inclination to sit recipient of flattering attentions; but in one down and brood over selfish or imaginary hour, perhaps, one moment, she has to 5is- sorrows. Those who give themselves up tG possess her mind of all its vain illusions, and the absorbing influence of what is called love, to act simply and decidedly for herself, with- might think that she knew little of the tender out support or assistance from any earthly passion, when we say, that she went on with creature. All must be completed, too, in so the accustomed pursuits, read the same books short a time, for the least hesitation, the least applied herself to the pencil and her music, delay, is construed into a tacit consent, and and visited the poor with apparently the the lover triumphs accordingly. Who then same interest as before; but the deepest 26 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. feelings are not the most conspicuous in our her philosophy, for she will now have two daily walk, and here is the great virtue of combatants instead of one; and Randall, cultivating habits of industrious and useful who knows the world, will be able to bring occupation, that we fall into them without an facts to support my opinions." effort. when the mind has most need of being Mrs. Percival handed the open letter to beguiled away from its own secret cares. her niece, who glanced over it with apparent Who can read these tender and touching indifference, yet with that keen searching lines beginning - which none can understand so well as those Yes, there are real mourners,- who look for some kind mention, some afterwithout feeling that the simple child of na- thought' some trivial fond record,' to be seen, ture, whom the poet so ably describes, was felt and valued, by no one but themselves. enduring the fulness of earthly affliction, and But, no! this casual mention of her name that in its most refined and exquisite form. was all the remembrance it contained, and And yet he tells us that Agnes felt it was not thus she was treasur" Attention through the day her duties claim'd, ng the recollection of Arnold. And to be useful, as resign'd, she aim'd; Some time elapsed after this before she Neatly she dress'd, nor vainly seem'd to expect heard again from her cousin, and the next Pity for tears, or pardon for neglect." letter effectually damped the ardour of deThe first letter from Arnold Percival, after light with which she broke the seal, for it he reached the place of his destination, was spoke in no measured terms of unpleasant affilled with an account of the disagreeables of fairs, disagreements and hatreds, in which his journey, descriptions of the cold wel- Randall had proved himself a noble fellow comes, or rather the absence of all welcome and a staunch friend. which awaited his arrival, and the unfriendly " Alas!" sighed Mrs. Percival, " I fear his faces and strange habits of all around him. nobility is nothing better than pride, and his The next was more cheerful, for it spoke of friendship self-interest." having found a friend at last. " One who " We will not judge him yet," interrupted rails at human life by the hour,' sans inter- Agnes, while her countenance expressed that mission.' His name is George Randall, of peculiar kind of anxiety which nothing but good family and prepossessing manners (at such painful suspicions could possibly give least to me;) but you shall see him in the rise to. "Arnold," she continued, " will winter, when he has promised to return with never make a friend of the man whose me. There is some mystery about his early opinions materially differ from his own; and years which always gives him pain when who but himself can think as he does and enquired into; but it is not difficult for me to act nobly." read, in the workings of his proud and sensi- The winter came, and with it the two coltive mind, the effects of injustice and injury legians to the remote village of Houghton. from his fellow men-from those who are They were now bound together in the either tyrants or slaves, just as they are closest intimacy, by that kind of fellowship placed above or below the central line of in- which may not improperly be called a defendependence, where strength and weakness sive league against the whole human race. meet, and beyond which no man is to be Arnold, confident that the appearance and trusted."- manners of his friend, if they did not always "Hey day!" said Mrs. Percival, who was, inspire admiration, mnust invariably obtain reading the letter, " it is well that we anti- respect, was proud to present him to his moquated people are not required to understand ther and cousin, who regarded the handsome the logic of the present times. Let us pass stranger with curiosity not unmingled with on to something more intelligible." suspicion. He was indeed a handsome man, - " Tell Agnes that she must call up all according to the usual application of the MISANTHROPY. 27 wold. His features so finely and regularly at the same time that he mourned over its moulded, that the beholder looked again and desolation. again for that repose and satisfaction, which The day of Arnold's return was one of fine features alone are unable to afford. The those which make us gather into the very restless wandering of his eye would have centre of whatever household comfort can been sufficient of itself to rouse the fears of be found-dark, cold and pitiless without. a phisiognomist, but there was besides a But Mrs. Percival's hospitality was like an ready-made smile of unparalleled sweetness enchanted circle, within which, whoever enwhich he wore on all occasions, exciting a tered found full indemnity for past suffering. doubt whether it had first been assumed for The countenance of Randall, however, handthe sake of displaying an exquisite set of some though it was, did not harmonize with teeth, or for the still more dangerous pur- the domestic scene. No, not though he pose of disguising some secret passion or praised the viands of every description, and impulse, whose frequent recurrence had smiled indiscriminately upon furniture and rendered the disguise habitual. faces. The evening closed in with an increased It was impossible to read such a counte- howling of the blast abroad, which made the nance, all bland and smiling as it was; and warm glow of fire and lamps within more Agnes turned away from the cold marble welcome. The curtains were let down, the study to gaze with renewed satisfaction upon sofa drawn forward, and piles of dry wood the nobler brow and more intelligible expres- blazed and crackled on the hearth. Still, sionl of her cousin Arnold; who was too conversation became commonplace, and at much above the least practice of deceit him- last it flagged altogether. Mrs. Percival orself to detect a false smile, or even a false dered coffee, and Randall sipped and smiled, word in others. Thus he was often deceived, but without cheerfulness. Agnes next beand every fresh instance of misplaced confi- thought her of a portfolio of engravings, dence increased the bitterness with which he mixed with a few of her own drawings, thought, and spoke of the actions of man- which Arnold had been wont to commend. kind in general. Upon these the stranger bestowed unboundWhether it was that the company of this ed admiration, but they were soon turned associate, by throwing his best qualities into over, and the leaden extinguisher of dullness contrast, rendered them more conspicuous, fell upon the party again. or that the mental perceptions of her cousin Thus may one strange countenance, or had become more vivid during his short ab- rather one strange heart, untouched by the sence, certain it was that Agnes never had social sympathies of life, uninfluenced by admired him so much as now. She even home associations and dear remembrances fancied that he had grown kinder and more of early affection and enjoyment, cast a cordial, and her own welcome was in danger damp upon the genial hour; like the fabled of being more warm than was warranted by spectres of old, whose presence, although unthe circumstances attendant upon his depart- marked by any thing unnatural in themselves, tire. It is possible that Arnold was glad to was said to make the lights of the festival feel again the comfort of a home, for, in spite burn blue. of his cold exterior, he had in reality an af- There is no cheerfulness like the cheerfu fectionate and generous heart, that yearned ness of the heart. That honest, open daring for all those social sympathies which his per- to be innocently happy, which shows itself verted notions of what was really estimable, in the clear brow and sunny eye, connectperpetually induced him to trample upon as ing, as with the links of a bright and living worthless. And thus, like the heroes of a chain, fond thoughts and early loves, unpopular poe; he made his own wilderness shaken truth, unblighted hope, remembrances 28 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. of home, and early companionship, with the where nothing is known. I only acknowintense and heartfelt pleasures of the pre- ledge an absence of love, and for this I can sent hour. Why,-why within the book of give you no better reason than that I do not beauty is this fair page so seldom found understand him." An over estimate of the attractions of " He is clear as the day." Randall had induced Arnold so far to violate "Not to me; for I have no sympathy with his constitutional reserve, as to warn his him: and it requires a long time to underfriend against cultivating an attachment to stand those characters to which we cannot his cousin; " for," said he, with embarrass- apply the key of sympathy." ment quite unusual to him, " I believe her Arnold was disappointed, for he knew the hand-her affections-at least" —- warmth of his cousin's heart, and her free" Say no more," interrupted Randall, dom from caprice, too well, to suppose that w.iose dreams were not of matrimonial bon- she would willingly withhold either sympadages, "your cousin's heart would be safe thy or love from any one. Pleased, howfrom me, were she enchanting as Calypso, ever, to observe that his mother had been or fair as the fairest of her nymphs." favouring the stranger with her company in There was indeed no need of such a warn- a ramble through the grounds, he sought ing, for Agnes and Randall seemed mutually an opportunity of ascertaining whether her repulsive to each other; so true it is that perceptions had been equally dull. simple virtue has no more attraction for After many stout efforts to bring down his a base and artificial character, than that pride to the level of asking a question, he character has in return for virtue itself. did at last enquire plainly and decidedly With such feelings, it was distressing to how Mrs. Percival liked his friend: to which Agnes to find herself on the following morn- his mother, never more puzzled to give a ing tete-a-tete with her cousin, because he decided answer, coolly replied, "He has knew that the first question might reduce handsome teeth." her to the necessity of giving pain, where "Out upon the woman!" said Arnold to she would so much more gladly give plea- himself. " They are all as perverse as their sure. Arnold, too, was at a loss how to first mother:" and he ordered his horses, commence the enquiry which he was deter- and rode for the remainder of the day with mined to make; at last, stooping down to his new friend, whose various good qualities caress the once envied favourite, he said, the fair and foolish sex were evidently unable with a significant smile, "Love me, love my to understand or appreciate. dog." Women, when entirely divested of pas" I hope the adage does not apply to sion and prejudice, are better judges of charfriend as well as dog," replied Agnes, plun- acter than men; because, from the facility ging at once into the difficulty which she with which they throw off selfishness, they knew must be encountered. are able to identify themselves as it were "It does, with tenfold force." with others; entering into their circum" To try, at any rate, is all the proof which ctances and motives, and diving into the can, in common fairness, be required; and deep recesses from whence arise the springs if you will give me time, I will try to like of action. If, therefore, women are not reyour friend." markable for understanding clearly, nor con"1 I should have thought the feeling might sequently for acting wisely, it is because have come without an effort. What have their feelings are so powerful and vivid that you to allege to his disadvantage?" they seldom listen to a story, witness a fact, "You speak as if I entertained a preju- or experience any of the common viclssidice against him, for prejudice it must be, tudes of life, without having the faculty of and that of a very unwarrantable kind, judgment, which they undoubtedly possess MISANTHROPY. 29 equally with men, tossed to and fro, and istence; so much do characters of this desometimes finally dethroned by the stirring scription magnify their own importance, in passions of the moment, such as hope, fear, the malevolence and hatred which they suppity, love, or indignation. pose themselves to excite. Would they but apply the same magnifier to benevolence and love, the deception might be worth cherishing. For my own part, I always think that we must in some measure deserve the hatred of mankind before we obtain it; or else have CHAPTER VII. distinguished.urselves so decidedly as to call forth tht mnost powerful feelings of envy, A WEEK of uninterrupted social intercourse that dread',d passion, which, like hatred, dewas scarcely gone, before the aunt and niece lights to d -g every thing to light that is cahad both discovered that Arnold's new pable of being tortured to the disadvantage friend was in every way ill-adapted to cor- of another. Now few who complain of the rect the faults of his disposition. unkindness of their fellow-creatures will "I cannot tell why he has chosen him," grant that they have deserved it; and still said Agnes, with some impatience. " I fewer can prove that they are distinguished should have thought he would rather have enough to be the objects of envy. But come, fixed upon a straightforward, blunt, and in- let us endeavour to dismiss these harsh dependent man; one who, if I may use the thoughts, for see, the two friends are apwords of Shakspeare,'would tell truth and proaching with faces more grave than shame the devil."' usual!" "Do you not perceive," replied Mrs. Per- As soon as they entered, Arnold placed an cival, " that straightforward, blunt, in- open letter in his mother's hand, announcing dependent characters, by bolting at once the serious and alarming illness of the old upon the truth, must frequently infringe gentleman (a stranger to them) who preupon the imaginary dignity of those who ceded Arnold in the entail, and whose death shroud themselves in haughty reserve?" would place in his possession a splendid es"But this man has a cringing servile tablishment, and almost princely fortune. manner; peeping askance from beneath his Agnes felt a strange tremor steal over her eye-lashes to make observations when your as her aunt was reading, and for a long time attention is turned away, yet never openly she dared not raise her eyes to Arnold's and fairly looking any one in the face." face; but when she did look up, he was "You must not find fault with that, when seated in a musing attitude, his eyes directed he takes so much care to utter grand senti- to the distant woods or the sloping lawn, ments (whatever he may feel) always dress- with neither cloud nor sunshine on his brow, ed up with a spice of nobility and daring." nor any change of feature indicating the "Arnold, too, is kind and generous; but least emotion of soul. Lhis man is cold and immoveable as marble, "I wonder," said he at last, "whether this except when animated by hatred or revenge. man will leave any one to mourn his loss. Only think how his countenance changed, Whether one tear of real sorrow will be shed how his brow contracted, and his eye flashed, upon his grave, or whether, all like me, will when they talked over the insults and inju- be watching for what they can seize and aprles they had received from the party at col- propriate as their own. What a world is lege." this, where one cannot possess, without rob"And yet I dare say," continued Mrs. bing another; where one cannot be made Percival, " there are few of that party who rich without a hundred being poor!" bear in mind the circumstance of their ex- "You can hardly call that robbery which 30 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. is awarded to you by the law of the land, "You see, Agnes," said he, addressing without wrong or injustice on your part," her in a kind and familiar tone, " I begin to said Mrs. Percival; "still less can you say approximate: I have made a friend." that that man has lost his wealth, who is " Ah! you compel me," replied Agnes, called away from it by death." " to say what, in your ear, will sound harsh " But the herd of dependents, and poor re- and ungenerous. You have indeed found a lations who have been hangers-on upon his companion, but, are you more happy for his bounty, how they will hate to see my face, to society?" say nothing of the little admiration I shall "I have more courage to brave the ills of have for theirs; and then the trouble of do- life." ing justice to this person and the other, of "Have you more patience to endure them? satisfying all claims, and standing in a con- for, after all, since we cannot overcome what spicuous situation before men, to be pecked you call the ills of life, patience to bear them at by the very daws of office; to be flattered, is what we most need." followed, and caressed, and, worse than all — I hate patience!" exclaimed Arnold; " it oh! Agnes! to be fallen in love with by was made for beasts of burden." young ladies!" "I believe there never was a really great Agnes rose, and playfully dropping her character," replied Agnes calmly, " without lowest curtsey, hoped she never should of- patience; most assuredly there never was a fend in that way. true Christian without it." " Well," continued Arnold, evidently en- " But to argue in your favorite style, from deavouring to shake off the slight appear- scripture truths: Did not Job loose all that ance of excitement into which he had been he had, while he sat bemoaning himself betrayed; " it will be time enough to lament amongst the pots? Was anything left to over these evils, even the last and greatest, him except his wife, who, if one may judge when the old gentleman has really paid the by her advice, was no great treasure; and debt of nature. You and I, Randall, have were not his bosom friends let loose to worry other things to think of. Let me see-how him in his last extremity?" long is our respite from classic lore." "You forget that all these circumstances "You will hardly return to college under fobrm but a series of trials by which his papresent circumstances?" said Mrs. Percival. tience was proved; that in the end he was " What circumstances can possibly affect made a wealthy and happy man again, and me," replied Arnold, "so as to tear me from that in the mean time he was reaping a harthe shrine of Alma Mater? Besides there vest of wisdom from the fountain of all true are other reasons. The vulgar herd would knowledge; as we no doubt may do, if not toss their antlers, and say they had driven immediately from the voice of an Almighty us from our ground." teacher, yet, remotely, by the same power operating through the medium of that disTime flew on, but still no further tidings cipline which is dealt out to us in our afflicof importance reached the village of Hough- tions." ton; and Agnes, on the day before her "I have always thought," observed Arcousin's departure, willingly mounted her nold, dropping the argument for the sake of horse to enjoy a ride with him once more. his favourite theme, " that this specimen of Randall had set off in company with them, friendship is the most perfect of any that we but, not relishing the situation of third, turned have on record. How exquisitely true to naround to enjoy a better sea-view from a dis- ture is the conduct of his friends, first making tant point of land, and Agnes perceived, with a show of sympathy by sitting in silence upheightened colour, that she was alone with on the ground, and then falling upon him Arnold. with their pitiless reproaches, until the very MISANTHROPY. 31 dregs of bitterness were wrung out from his call friendship! It'is a game fit only for soul in those memorable and touching ex- children to play at, when they seek for someclamations -' No doubt ye are the people, thing less productive than blowing bubbles in and wisdom shall die with you. Miserable the air. Yet why call't unproductive when comforters are ye all. How long will ye vex it is operating every day through all classes my soul, and break me in pieces with words? of society, when it is the grand engine of deSuffer me that I may speak, and after that I ception by which men, and women too, imhave spoken, mock on 1' pose upon each other; for all falsehood flows "Commend me to an honest enemy. from this polluted stream, and no man was There is something clear, definite and intel- ever yet betrayed to an enemy, who had not ligible in the hatred that seeks to wound you first trusted in a friend.'My friends are at every point; and consequently you may false!' has been the burden of the deepest arm yourselves against it: but the love that groans of wretchedness since the world first insinuates itself into your very bosom, there began, and the only cry which escaped the to tear up and examine all the materials of lips of Caesar in his dying agony was,' Et which you are compounded, to drag to light tu Brute!"' your hidden stores, and expel per force what- "And yet," replied Agnes, "you boast ever is repugnant to its own nature; there that you have found a friend." can be no defence against such an enemy as " I boast not. I only say that I have found this, for at every effort to expel the intruder the thing so called. The proof is yet to come. or resist its ravages, it turns tender and tells At present he is tiactable and civil, as all new you it is all for love. friends are." ~" Who but a friend ever assumes the right "But, according to your own rule, you of choosing what shall make you happy, and ought to hold yourself ever upon your guard of inflicting it upon you? Who lays bare against deception." your own heart before you, at the very mo- "I do. And shall doubtless shake him off ment when you are least inclined to witness when he begins to take liberties." such a spectacle, but a friend? Have you "Oh! Arnold," said Agnes, looking at committed any act of misdemeanor under him through her tears,;"when will you learn the consciousness of which you are ago- to value that which is truly estimable, before nizing in secret, who breaks in upon your that which merely affords you momentary solitude with the story of your shame, but a pleasure?" friend? Is your character (unknown to you) "I value Agnes Forester before all the stained with the very foible for which you world. How can I better prove the correcthave chastised another, who retorts upon ness of my judgment." you but a friend? Are your finances sud- Agnes blushed, and smiled, and for one denly and totally expended, or is your lady- moment,-one dangerous moment; there flitlove just married to another, who steps in ted across her mind the natural and womanwith the pleasing intelligence but a friend? ly question whether it would not be worth Is the anguish of ingratitude rankling in your risking all things, and uniting herself with heart's core and thrilling through every ar- Arnold's fate for good or for evil; so that tery and nerve, who has plunged the poison- she might ever be near the altar of his heart, ed dagger but a friend? In short, look to watch and extinguish its unhallowed around upon the miseries of human life, and fires. see whether the hardest portion has not in- "No, no," said she to herself, "It will not variably been dealt out by those who have do; I have no confidence in my own power. assumed the prostituted name of friend. I might live with him and love him, until I Ah! the emptiness, the shallow void, the ut- choose rather to think unjustly than to think ter worthlessness of that mockery which men differently, until I preferred falling with him 62 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. frankness, that she was not happy, he an- that along with love there went a great deal swered her with bitter lamentations over his of kindness, and trying to please, and that own inability to make her so. sort of thing, that would just find you em-' My love," said he, "blights wherever it ployment, and keep you alive in this dull fulls. I am like the Indian tree, beneath place, and make all things seem quite differwhich the birds that have flown for shelter ent to you." lie dead." Ida, struck with what the woman said, reIda was terrified.-" Let us return to Eng- mained musing for some time after upon the land," said she; and they set off on the possibility of making her present lot more morrow. cheerful. During the reverie, her fingers Arnold had few agreeable associations had been turning over the leaves of her connected with the idea of returning. The album; and when she awoke to a fresh sense world was all alike to him, whether at home of her real situation, she observed that the or abroad. He expected no happy faces to following lines had been recently added to look out for his arrival; -and when Bella her collection: Dunhill thlrew open the park-gate without one enquiring glance into the carriage, he Away, away, I heed thee not! placed the rude indifference of this ungrate- Tell me no more thy mournful tale: ful woman to the account of human nature, I have no pity for thy lot, and execrated the whole race with redoubled No ear to listen to thy wail. spleen. - Weep not; thy tears are like the rain Ida felt nzore in her proper element, That falls upon a senseless stone; I may not, will not weep again, although that element was a new one, as the My sighs are hushed, my tears are gone. rightful mistress of the noble dwelling, which Smile on some brow more calm than mine, the good taste of Mrs. Percival and Agnes Press on some fairer cheek thy kiss; Press on some fairer cheek thy kiss; had invested with an air of comfort as well I have no joy no blend with thine, as elegance. No love to answer love like this. For Arnold's worthy mother, as the first Touch not the harp; I will not hear kind looking person she had met with for a One tone that tells of former days: Sing to the waves that murmur near; long time, she gave way to a sudden burst Pour on the winds thy charmed lays. of almost childish affection, which Mrs. PerWhere is my heart, Go ask the wind cival, from being unable to comprehend any- That wanders through yon ruined tower, thing irrational, mistaking for affectation, did If e'er its piercing search can find not receive so warmly as she otherwise The hearth that blazld in festive hour. would have done; and the young heart of No! lost is every trace of mirth, the stranger was chilled again. And-hush'd is every festive sound; Marion)) said she one day, after a pas- The very breeze which fann'd that hearth Hath strewn its ashes o'er the ground. sionate burst of tears, addressing a simplehearted domestic, who had accompanied her But still the glorious beams of day from Scotland, and whom, for that reason, Shine brightly on the castle wall On bastion worn, and turret grey, she chose to have usually about her person, The silver streams of moonlight fall. "what shall I do for somebody to love me?" "Suppose you were to try to love some- Fresh glittering ivy weaves a wreath Of shining beauty round its brow: body yourselfg" replied the woman. The mouldering ruin stands beneath, "I do love somebody-I love my hus- Unconscious, cold as I am now. band." "I should hardly have thought that." These verses were in Arnold's hand-wri"Why not" ting. "No, no," said Ida, "the case is "Because, if I must be so bold, I thought hopeless;" and she covered her face with MISANTHROPY. 33 out a well of water; a wide wilderness with- Percivals by their dying father, and who out a place of rest 1" had loved them as his own sons. On the following day, Mrs. Percival and " Impossible!" said Arnold: "the old man her niece went at an early hour to pay their has been like a parent to me; I would trust respects to the lord of the castle, and Agnes him with anything I have; and that under scrupled not to lend her aid and advice in any temptation." the arrangement of his domestic affairs, and The fortress of long-continued confidence the establishment of order and comfort; for not being easily shaken, the subject was she carried about with her own feelings so dropped for this time; but Randall tried it little of self; that much of the false delicacy again and again, and that in the most wily which is encouraged in her sex was absent and insinuating manner, until Arnold, ever from her mind. Thus the castle of Hough- too indolent to defend h.' own opinions, beton was nothing more to her than the resi- gan to give way, and, wearied out by the dence of her cousin Arnold; and thus she perseverance of his friend, an ungracious could form plans for his happiness, entirely consent was at last wrung from him, that a independent of her own. strong box in the possession of Wallis should " We have been thinking," said Mrs. Per- be opened and examined. This outrage cival to her son, on his return from riding, was committed in the absence of the old "that you must give a public entertainments man, and there, unfortunately for him, the in order to establish yourself on a proper exact sum that was missing lay carefully footing with your neighbours of all classes. concealed in a private drawer. It is well for the rich and the poor sometimes WVhen Wallis returned home that evento partake of the same hospitality, in order ing, he was struck with the cold looks and that they may be reminded of their close colder welcome of his fellow-servants. alliance, and mutual dependence upon each "What'is the matter?" said he. "Has other." anything befallen our good master'" But Arnold mused for some time,.and then re- no one answered him, and he hastened to plied with indifference, " These things I leave assure himself, by delivering a packet, for to the management of ladies, who have inge- which he had been sent out early in the nuity enough (if that were the only quality day. required) to rule the world. Make of me Arnold started at the sight of his old what you please. Show me off as a puppet friend; for his honest and trustworthy counor a monster, provided I am neither required tenance brought fresh conviction with it that to dance on wires, nor roar for the entertain- Wallis had, indeed, been deeply wronged; ment of the multitude." but he received the packet with unaltered In the mean time all went on smoothly, manner, and while pondering, with his and even cheerfully, exeept, that Randall, usual indolence, upon the best method of who seemed incapable ot the feeling of trusts atoning for the past, the old man left the kept continually feeding the mind of Arnold room, and rejoined his companions, who, with suspicions that were foreign to his na- by this time, having yielded to their impresture; and which, operating upon a character sions in his favour, had determined, with like his, were calculated to produce the worst one voice, to let him know the worst. possible result. Wallis heard them without a word; but On one unfortunate occasion~ a purse of he drew himself up to an unusual height, as sovereigns was not found in the place where he stood erect in the midst of the group, it was supposed to have been deposited; and and a deep flush of indignation rushed into Randall cast an evil eye upon a faithful old his cheeks, to leave them more pale and servant of the name of Wallis, w:o had haggard than before. been left in charge with the two young "It is time that I were gone!" said he, 34 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. when the dark story, with all its exagger- gentleman, except, perhaps, his learning ations, was concluded. "This night-this and foppery, which I did not teach him. very night-I will seek another roof to And to come to this at last — To have my shelter my head, where, if I cannot sleep so locks broken in the sight of the very scullion softly, I shall at least be treated like an honest and stable-boy I But I will not talk of it, man!" And so saying, he left the servants' for it makes me feel prouder than a Chrishall, and walked away from the castle with tian ought to feel. I shall not be long for the speed and the determination of his this world now, and pride, you know, is younger years. not for another."' The next day, Arnold missed his faithful "My cousin Arnold," observed Agnes, domestic; and for many succeeding days " is too just and too generous to be long unhe watched the opening door, with a degree der the influence of ill advisers. He will see of anxiety almost beyond his powers of con- his error, and all may yet be well." cealment; but nothing could bring down " You remind me," said the old man, " of his haughty spirit to make enquiries respect- the words of the Rev. John Fletcher, of ing the consequences of his own injustice; Madeley; and he stood up before Agnes, and though he never for a long time went and earnestly fixed his eyes upon her face, abroad without looking for his well-known while he repeated the following passage, figure at every turning of the road, he was with that precision and emphasis which is not once heard to utter his name: and, peculiar to those who are unskilled in the such is the barrier which pride and reserve rules of rhetoric, and unaccustomed to the establish against social intercourse, that no sound of flowing sentences: individual amongst the household at the "' See that crystal vessel. Its brightness castle dared intrude so far upon the confi- and brittleness represent the shining and dedence of their master as to hint at the me- licate nature of true virtue. If I let it fall lancholy fate of his much-injured servant. and break it, what avails it to say,' I never This sad affair, however, had no sooner broke it before-I dropped it but once —I am reached the ear of Agnes Forester, than she extremely sorry for my carelessness-I will set out in search of the old man, to hear set the pieces together, and never break it from himself the story of his wrongs. He had again?' Will these excuses and resolutions found shelter for his wounded spirit in a lowly preventthe vessel from being broken-broken dwelling, where, as he said, he was at least for ever?' Now, this is the case with my free from the suspicion of taking what was heart; nor could all the kindness it is in your not his own, and where (his wife being power to offer, wipe away the remembrance dead, and his children settled in the western of the past, or undo what has already been world) he hoped to end his solitary days in done." peace. Still Agnes urged upon Wallis the proba" I blame no one," he said to Agnes, bility of his being reinstated in his master's "but the stroke has fallen here;'" and he good opinion: the old man proudly replied, laid his hand upon his heart, and sighed 1" You forget, Miss Forester, it is I who have heavily. to forgive; and I do forgive from the bottom "Your master himself did not suspect of my heart. At the same time, I maintain you," observed Agnes, kindly; "all Vzi.l that the honestman, who faithfully serves his surely be well again." master, though filling the lowest station " I have carried him, Miss Forester, when amongst mankind, is as much entitled to an an infant, in my arms," said the old man. unsullied name, as the monarch who sits " I taught him to ride, and to hold a gun, upon a throne. But I said I would not talk and to shoot an arrow at a mark: indeed, of these things, for they make a strange there is hardly any thing which belongs to a feeling rise up in my heart-a feeling that tl there is hardly anything~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MISANTHROPY. 35 must be overcome before I can enter into Randall was summoned to a short and sethat rest which is prepared for the faithful." cret council, but he knew nothing of his The preparations for the entertainment, friend, and there was now no time for conwhich Mrs. Percival had devised as the only sultation. means of introducing her son to that circle " We must do the best we can," said Agin which he now held so conspicuous a sta- nes, and this laudable determination was tion, were carried on by herself, Agnes, and so ably supported, that many who had not Randall, without any participation on the at first been struck with her beauty, returned part of Arnold, who carefully avoided those home to pronounce Miss Forester the most apartments where the greatest revolutions charming girl they had ever beheld; so were in operation, and who, when the dread- much is the countenance improved by that ed day at last arrived, had many serious genuine good humour which is founded upon thoughts of escaping entirely from the scene good feeling. of action. But in proportion as he hated to Having once escaped from the busy throng be made a subject for the comments of the to the uninterrupted indulgence of his own multitude, he endeavoured to avoid that sin- thoughts, Arnold felt little inclination to re gularity which must inevitably draw down join the company; and the din of many feet, this calamity upon his head, and therefore with the confused sounds of music and revhe resigned himself as well as he was able elry, only drove him farther from that merrito his impending fate. With an air of in- ment, in which it was so difficult for him to difference, not altogether ungracious, he re- participate; until at last his morbid feelings ceived his guests; and if they did not feel were so worked upon, that he believed it the welcome of which he politely assured impossible for him to return, and pacing to them, the fault was not in his words. Mrs. and fro upon the lawn before the windows, Percival, always on the alert, supplied by he gave himself up to a sort of nervous sensathe frankness and cordiality of her looks and tion, which it would be in vain to describe to manners what was wanting in her son; Ag- those who have never been preyed upon by nes faithfully performed her part, although moodiness and despair, while surrounded by with less activity and freedom; and Randall the gay, the thoughtless and the happy;-a liberally bestowed his smiles upon those who sensation which approaches nearer to the nasought only a momentary gratification. ture of insanity than any other that we en"And this is what men call happiness!" dure in a state of liberty and freedom of said Arnold, as he turned away from a lively will; —a sensation which so completely disgroup, after music and dancing had begun; torts the mental vision, that we behold every and persuading himself that no one would thing through the medium of self-torture;observe his absence, or heed it if they did, a sensation which, in the present instance, he escaped through an open green-house, almost persuaded the misanthrope that he that was studded all over with coloured was expelled by the contempt of his fellowlamps, and walked forth to enjoy the calm- creatures from all participation in their enness of a dewy evening. joyment; that the strange lacqueys who "Where is Arnold?" whispered Mrs. Per- thronged his hall were placed there as spies cival, in consternation to Agnes, who had upon his private actions, and that a company taken note of his departure with that quick- of triumphant revellers had taken possession ness of perception from which a beloved of his castle for the purpose of making a object escapes not amidst a crowd, however mockery of him and his wretchedness. dense,-to which one individual voice is There is something so selfish in the nature audible amongst a thousand-one face and of melancholy, that its victims invariably form perceptible when all others are ob- suppose themselves singled out fora peculiar scure. fate, as if the laws which regulate the uni23 36 PICTURES OF PRIVArE LIFE. verse had been devised for their especial supply the parent stream. The gale that torture. ThuLs, while disclaiming the remo- whispers through the trees, raising the white test idea of their own importancee and pro- foliage of the mournful willows, and making nouncing themselves blanks in the creations the feathery aspen tremble at its presence, let them but pursue the course of their own although no man knoweth whence it cometh murmurings, and'they will go on to tell you nor whither it goeth, hath yet its purpose that they are treated as if they were nobody and its bound appointed, whether to bear — trampled upon by their fellow men —un- along with it the scent of citron-groves, or loved, unsought, unvalued, their kindness the breath of the deadly pestilence and the returned with ingratitude, their trust betray- silent moon, so lonely and companionless in ed, their affections abused, shipwrecked in her beauty, that the bereaved and the desoall their adventures, disappointed in all their late look up to her for that sympathy which schemes, a blight upon their very name, and they seek in vain elsewhere-the moon can their foreheads stamped with the firebrand shed her welcome smiles upon a distant of destruction. But they heed it not! No! world, gladdening the heart of the weary they are above complaint, for they despise traveller as he journeys through the wilderthe world more deeply than they feel its in- ness, and lighting the mysterious pathway justice. of the mariner along the mighty deep. It is Now do not such harangues as these prove man alone, of all existing creatures, who lives beyond a doubt that such individuals esteem on without an object worthy of one heart-ache themselves a vast deal too good for the lot in a thousand which his birthright costs him: that has fallen upon them?-that they believe and Ij of all men the most companionless, their fellow creatures to be very much in the stand here a mere excrescence upon the dark as to their real merits;-that they are surface of creation, without an aim, a purpiqued and galled by the mistake, and burn pose, or a wish.' with rage to revenge it 1 And worse than These melancholy meditations were interall, do they not secretly indulge the vain and rupted by the sound of carriages rolling up presumptuous idea, that an Almighty Father to the door to bear away their precious burhas not extended towards them that mercy dens from the festive scene; and Arnold. by and justice which are shown in his govern- a mighty effort, compelled himself to reapment of the world in general? And thus, pear before his guests in time to receive their when they complain that the course of hu- parting adieus. The sounds of revelry now man events is so directed as to produce died away upon the ear, the tread of sepaupon themselves the worst possible effects, rate feet became more distinctly audible; are they not, by arraigning the wisdom and and, when the apartments, lately so brilliant goodness of an Omnipotent Creator, bias- and gay, began to look cold and deserted, pheming a holy name, and charging God Mrs. Percival thought it high time to cornfoolishly? rnence an animated attack upon her son, c"I am like no other creature in the uni- which she did by describing, in no measured verse," said Arnold, as he paused before a terms, the perplexity to which his absence sparkling fountain that sent up its silvery had subjected her, and Randall, too, threw waters in the moos light, to fall with a in his suspicions, more warily expressed, that lulling and monotonous soarnd into the clear many of the gutests had retired at an early basin below, where the lights from the castle hour, in high dudgeon at the disappearance windows were glancing on its rippled sur- of the master of the house. " To say nothface.' "Each particle of' spray from these ing of my conscience,' he added with a musical waters fails back again into the bo- smile, "which you have laden with false-:som from whence it flows, shining forth for hoods innumerable; for I was co~mpelled to one brilliant moment, and then returning to invent a story of your sudden indispositiot, MISANTHROPY. 37 and force it down with asseverations, all which pervaded all things was more sad chargeable to your account." and solemn, when contrasted with the mer"Mr. Randall's detail of the consequences ry sounds to which it had succeeded. of your absence," said Agnes, gravely, "is'Oh! Agnes Forester," exclaimed Arnold, serious indeed. The early departure of " thy light step should ever walk these stately your guests I should hardly have called a halls, to remind me that my home is not a grievance, for at this hour of night it is time tepulchre, in which lie buried the fond affecfor the body to repose, and the mind to re- tions that are said to sweeten life. Thy fleet; bat for any one to say they have been smile should still be before me, to direct my compelled to utter a falsehood, is to speak of journey through the wilderness. Thy heart a severe infliction, such as I am not prepared should be mine and mine only, to teach me to believe we are ever subjected to in this that there is yet a blessing upon this barren world." earth —a blessing even for me!" One of Randall's fierce looks, shot askance from under his contracted brow, made the colour rush into the face of Agnes, who quailed not for an instant,. but, fixing upon him, her clear and beautiful eyes, bold with CHAPTER IX. the heart's best courage, the countenance of the stranger gave way before her, and he AGNES FORESTER, although perfectly looked around with restless impatience to feminine in all her habits of thinking and find some object which might vary the scene, acting, was not wont to be long blinded by and relieve his mortifying -embarrassment. her affections to that clear sense of right and At last he touched the harp, upon which he wrong which she endeavoured to make the was a skilful performer, and played a light -strict and invariable rule of her conduct: she and lively air. therefore sought.an early opportunity of "I am not disposed for music to-night;" pleading with Arnold on behalf of his old said Arnold, in a subdued tone: "when the servant; and, though repeatedly repulsed by chords of the heart are unstrung, there can the unwonted severity of his manner whenbe -no answering harmony within.')" ever this siubject was touched upon, she reThere was somethiing in -his voice ~and turned to it again, with the fondly cherished manner that night so mild and mournful, and?hope of eventually inducing her cousin to he had borne with such calm patience the -act consistently with his better feelings. By reproaches of his mother and his friend, that the most cautious and well-timed infringeAgnes, who from the -first had felt more -monnt upon his prejudices, she had prevailed grieved than angry, could not choose but upon him to become the frequent companion pity him from her very soul; and, when he of her visits to the poor, and while she strove party separated, she accompanied her'good with tnceasing assiduity to excite in his night' to him with a look whichplunged him mind an interest in their welfare, she was into a long deep reverie, as he sat silent and often deeply pained and disappointed to find alone, with both his hands pressed -firmly that her own company and converse had upon his forehead. At last he arose, as if been the only attraction which had led him awaking from a -dream, and -looked round to their humble dwelings. upon the dying lamps, whose varied hues "I oannot imagine the satisfaction," -she afforded a striking -emblem of faded splen- would often observe, " of living in the world dour. Garlands of flowers, fallen end with- without becoming acquainted with the cir-ered in the -heated atmosphere, were cumstancesof the poor but usefiil classes of -drooping from the columns, around which society by whom we -are surrounded; for.they -had been entwined; and tthle iene le ignorant' of the nature -of their warns, 38 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. it is impossible to take the right method of and other materials heaped together, so as I relieving them. Besides, since the customs form a sort of thatch for one half of her habiof the world have denied to them the liberty tation. of intruding upon our society, it is a duty " But you surely do not live in this place which we owe to them to make some ad- night and day!" exclaimed Agnes. vances towards a better acquaintance." "I live here always, except when I go to "I would say to any other woman than the town to sell fish." yourself," replied Arnold, " that there is also " And are you not afraid? something very attractive in being welcomed "I am afraid of nothing," replied the woas the Lady Bountiful of the parish, and fol- man, her harsh and rugged features relaxing lowed by the blessings of the poor wherever into a mournful misrepresentation of a smile; you go."'nothing that belongs to the earth, the sea, or, "For my own part," said Agnes, with the heavens. I am afraid of nothing but the some warmth, " I never hear the blessings people who ought to be Christians, and the of the poor, without shame and remorse that wrongs and the injuries they have done, and I have not done more to deserve them; nor are still doing to me and mine." can I suppose any one gratified by such in- Arnold now came forward, and asked her cense, unless they are egregiously vain; nor if she had any parents? "No!" Had she a entitled to receive it unless they have obeyed husband? "' She had once, but he had left the injunction, which we regard too little, of her." Had she any children? and she pointselling all and giving to the poor. But see," ed to a little grizzly urchin who was cowsaid she, pausing, and looking out towards ering amongst the bushes, and who, on perthe sea, where the narrow valley sloped ceiving himself the object of attention, away in a kind of heath, upon which a few scrambled away as fast as he could, with lean horses and a fettered donkey cropped limbs all twisted and deformed, and scarcely the scanty herbage; "what smoke is that able to bear the burden of his body. rising from amongst the furze and brambles? I had three sons continued the woman, Let us walk that way, for I am curious to," but two of them are dead —one of hunger, know why it should be ascending there in so and one of disease; and that monster that regular a column." you see there was once as fair and straight Arnold and Agnes directed their steps to a child as any mother's eye might look the wild and rugged piece of ground, where, upon; but what with poverty and starvaclose beside the rising smoke, they found a tion, and the persuasion of neighbours, I woman diligently employed with her netting- was prevailed upon to send him to work in tackle, which she plied with wonderful dex- the factory, where he was beaten and abusterity. The labour of her hands, and the ed until he lost the very shape of man. I tenour of her thoughts seemed to proceed had a daughter too, but they took her away with the same determined course, for she did to the Sunday-schools, where fine ladies put not condescend to look up at the approach of such notions into her head that she never the strangers, nor vouchsafe a reply until owns me now." they had ofteno o relief from the parish?" she was about, and where was the place of asked Agnes, but she soon repented having her abode. put the question, for the woman rose up and "Here," said she at last, impatiently, as if shaking her clenched hand, repeated her wearied out with their Impertinent intrusion; words with the rage of a maniac, declaring and they saw that a deep hollow, somewhat that while breath was left her, she would live like a grave, on the side of which she was in the free air, for which she had to thank seated, was littered with straw5 and ptrtly nobody; and that when her last hour should covered over with the branches of trees, fern, come, she had only to lie down where she MISANTHROPY. 39 slept every night, and her boy would heap Bella Dunhill was indeed a well known the earth upon her, and no parish overseer character, not only for the singularity of her would then grudge the money for her burial, present mode of life, but fbr the stormy temor sell her body to the doctor to pay his fee. per and bad morals which had separated her There was something so unnatural in thus from her husband and all her early friends. making a grave her daily habitation, and in Even the poor child, of whose ill treatment the expressions and gestures of the poor in the manufactory, she so incessantly comwretch altogether, that Agnes would gladly plained, was said to have received his greathave turned away, but Arnold, more interest- est injuries at home during his mother's fits ed than he had ever been before by the dis- of inebriation. But there were many who betresses of the poor, still plied her with ques- lieved the frightful distortion of his limbs had tions which only tended to call forth a deep come upon him, not from any bodily hurts sense of injury, either real or imaginary, and but solely as a judgment upon his sinful paa wild and passionate thirst for revenge. rent; and such was the repulsive nature of "The poor creature is certainly mad," her conduct, connected, perhaps, with a suwhispered Agnes at last, drawing Arnold perstitious horror of her present mysterious away from the spot. " You only increase way of living, that the dreary spot of ground her malady by talking to her." where she and her little urchin burrowed, "It is the most rational madness I have was shunned by the villagers towards the met with for a long time," observed Arnold. close of day, and the name of Bella Dunhill "I am determined to befriend this woman, was used to frighten fretful children into if it were only for the true estimate she has silence. formed of human life." All the information on this subject which " It would be well indeed to find her an Agnes could depend upon, she communicated abode where she might be protected from to her cousin on the following day; but such hardship and danger as she mustneces- his resolution was taken: a lodge at the ensarily be exposed to here, but I doubt whether trance of his park was vacant, and Bella her case is not beyond the reach of your Dunhill and her crippled boy were to become kindness, for the most charitable conclusion its future occupants. His lately kindled which I can draw from her conduct is, that zeal to do good was, however, a little dampof decided insanity. And with many assur- ed, by the ungracious manner in which his ances from Arnold that it was the very ex- proposition was received by the woman hercess of her sanity, or rather the extreme self, leaving it doubtful whether she would acuteness of her mental perceptions which eventually accept his offer or not: but Armade her incomprehensible to others, the nold, pardoning her on the score of past intwo cousins separated after their walk, the juries having soured her temper, the keys one to muse upon the misery of living in the were left in her hands, and one moonlight midst of mankind, and the other to make night, not long after, she bade adieu to the serious and matter-of-fact inquiries into the sea-shore; and gathering up from different former character of this strange woman. hiding places, her store of provisions, which Nor was it without heartfelt pain and anxiety, amounted altogether, to a more plentiful that Agnes learned from authentic sources, board than might be found in many ceiled what had been the depraved and licentious houses, she bestowed them carefully in the nature of her past life. All, however, agreed lodge, and Clym, (alias Clement,) was seen that her mind at the present time, was strong- the next morning, dragging his limbs across ly tinctured with insanity, the consequences the road to throw open the park gates for his of her own ungoverned passions, and the dis- master's carriage. tresses and privations to which they had re- "You see, Agnes," said Arnold, with duced her. triumph in his looks, " that I am not quite so 40 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. indifferent to the sufferings of the destitute Arnold's brow lowered, but Agnes went as you have sometimes supposed." on:-" I hear that the lost money was found "Arnold," replied his cousin, "it is the in a situation where it must unquestionably greatest trial of my life to think differently have been placed by your own hand." from you on matters of importance; and yet, "It was," replied Arnold. how often am I compelled to blame what you "Then let me ask, my dear cousin, why esteem your best actions, so little are our justice has not been done to the poor injured feelings influenced by the same rule." man?" "It is a stern duty, Agnes, that you im- "He has been informed that the mistake pose upon yourself; for it seems to extend to was discovered, and, of course, might use every thing I have the misfortune to say or any means he thought proper for the re-esdo. But come, let me hear what objections tablishment of his character." you have to bring forward against my pro- "I should have thought that the individual tecting this poor woman." who committed the wrong, would have been "I have no objection certainly to your pro — the one to look to for the re-establishment of tecting her, for no one could be more deso- that character, especially as he holds a high late and forlorn; but that she should be sin- and influential station in the world; while gled out to fill a place of respectability and the injured man is poor, unprotected, and trust, is, in my opinion, furnishing a bad pre- almost without a friend. Your conduct in cedent to others. Her past conduct, which this instance reminds me of what I have I believe to have been very licentious, ought heard stated, that whenever an act of moral not to be regarded too severely if there were injustice is glaringly committed, the aggresany evidence of an amendment of character; sor is the last to be reconciled to the injured but I think you will hardly persuade even party; as if he were the person who had yourself that her present behaviour and con- something to forgive." versation bespeak her to be a person worthy "I have at different times sent him conof confidence and respect." siderable sums of money, all which have "In this case, however, as well as in all been returned." others, you have unquestionably a right to "You must have known, Arnold, that the act as you judge best; and, as the thing is wounds of a noble spirit were not to be healed Gone, I will trouble you no more about the by money." consequences. Perhaps I intrude too often " Then you propose, as an atonement for with my quaint opinions upon your sphere of the past, that I should call together all my action." domestics, and placing Wallis in the midst, " Dear Agnes," interrupted Arnold, "when should address him in a melting speech; and did I receive your admonitions with impa- when all hearts were softened, and all faces tience 3 When did I conceal anything from drowned in tears, should kneel down and reyou? When did I shrink from your severest ceive his pardon and his blessing. This, reproofs?" Agnes, would be a scene to your taste, much "Never," replied Agnes; " you are very more than to mine." good, to bear with me as you do. The rea- "Arnold," said his cousin, looking more son why I wished to re-assure myself of your grave than before, " I am not prepared to anforbearance was, because I had another sub- swer you with sarcasms on such a subject as ject to lay before your attention in a way this. You and I stand in a serious relation tothat I feel convinced will be most unpleasing." wards each other. We have often had oc-'Pour on-I can endure." casion to speak of the propriety, the utility, "With regard to -your old servant Wallis, and the wisdom of different things, but I feel I have never yet spoken so fully and decidedly it my bounden duty in this instance to appeal as I feel in my conscience that I ought." to a higher test, and to ask whether you are MISANTHROPY. 41 acting conistently with the will of God? "If there is really no other way of setting Whether you de not feel it impossible to the matter right, I will, for the sake of the offer up your secret prayers while this load old man, (and with your permission,) give is upon your soul, and whether a proper hu- my own version of the case to your domesmiliation befbre the throne of mercy would tics, nor need you tremble fbr the dignity of' not enable you cheerfully and promptly to your character in my hands. But, Arnold, discharge this important duty?" this is only my last resource; —dear Arnold, "You have chosen the right word," re- is there not something due from yourself? plied Arnold, "for it is under a system of Is there not something due to her " perpetual humiliation that you hope to wear Agnes could proceed no farther. The me down to what I ought to be. But your subject was too near her heart, and tears of method will not answer-you may harden more than common anguish fell thick and what you cannot subdue." fast, while she bent down her head with a "And where is the humiliation, even be- vain effort to conceal them; for Arnold had fore mankind, of acting nobly? No one pre- unconsciously pronounced his doom-and sumes to call himself infallible. We are all hers. On this one subject her thoughts had liable to err; and is not an error freely and lingered, with the fond hope that, if he yieldfully acknowledged infinitely less degrading ed to her arguments, she should then feel than one which is obstinately persisted in?" justified in giving way to such anticipations "I cannot oblige you in this instance, of the future, as were perpetually forcing Agnes. I hate to be the puppet of a show, themselves upon her affectionate heart: and to hear the comments of weak voices " but if (she had said to herself that very upon what I may choose to say or do." morning) Arnold cannot be made to see this " Then try to divest yourself of these fool- glaring case as I do, it will be proof indispuish thoughts about your fellow-creatures, and table, that in the great consideration of moral imagine for an instant that you are alone in good and evil, we never can be united by the world, standing before the presence of that participation of feeling which is the founyour Creator, deeply implicated in an act of dation of all human happiness." disobedience to his holy will." For many months, Agnes Forester had "Are we not told that there is no act of been remarked upon as being more grave disobedience too deep or daring to be for- and thoughtful than could be accoupted for given?" by her age or circumstances; but now her " But when did we ever hear of forgive- gravity assumed an air of sadness, which her ness while the sin was persisted in? And is aunt, shrewdly guessing at the cause, ennot every hour that you live without doing deavoured by the most delicate attentions to what justice you can to this poor man, a con- soothe; and Agnes, perceiving her kind vincing proof that you prefer the gratifica- wishes, succeeded in forcing herself to contion of a mean and slavish pride, to the noble verse and smile with a cheerfulness which independence of daring to do what is right?" repaid Mrs. Percival for all her solicitude. "Then, Agnes, you shall do this noble Still her energy gave way-her health dedeed for me. You shall proclaim to my dined-the colour faded from her cheek, and household, that I have been base and un- Arnold, who seldom observed the minutse of grateful enough to heap disgrace and shame common life: could not, with all his increduupon the hoary head of a trusty servant. lity, blind himself tc the conviction that he You shall tell them also, that their master is was, or had been, deeply and tenderly hetoo great a coward to acknowledge his fault loved. But that any woman Fhoula refuse, before them; that Le hides himself from their from principle, the man who would otherwise very looks, and employs the voice of a wo- have been her choice, was to him so far bewan to speak for him." yond belief, that he bestowed little regard 42 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. upon their frequent difference of opinion, so that I was heaping coals of fire upon his long as he could enjoy such clear and indu- head. But now I see differently. I see that bitable evidence of his cousin's attachment to he was in error, but we are all liable to err. him. For her encreased sadness, he could I can now say, indeed, that I forgive him assign no cause, but strove to beguile her se- from my soul, and only wish that I could see cret cares by more than wonted kindness and his face, and see it once more looking kindly solicitude, until Agnes was often compelled on me before I die." to depart abruptly from his presence with "Perhaps he will visit you," said Agnes. tears that were altogether inexplicable to "I wish he would." sighed the old man, him. and he went on recalling the pleasant days In this manner time glided away, and on a when Arnold was a boy. " And, Walter, bright and cloudless morning, when autumn dear Walter, where is he?" had again spread her yellow curtain over the Agnes felt almost ashamed of the little inface of nature, Agnes begged her cousin formation she could give about her cousin would accompany her on a visit to a poor Walter, and rising from her seat, with an afnr-n whom she had promised to see that fectionate farewell to her poor friend, rejoined morning. They walked together to the door Arnold, who was turning over the leaves of of the cottage, where Arnold, at the request a book with all the noble affectation of beof his cousin, placed himself on a low bench ing totally unmoved by what he must have within a sort of porch, while she entered an heard. inner apartment, in which the object of her "Agnes," said he, sternly, as soon as they kind interest was seated by the fire. had left the cottage, " I did not expect this It was a well-known voice that bade her from you. I did not anticipate the risk of bewelcome, in tones of the most heartfelt glad- ing betrayed into a scene. Henceforth you ness; and, Agnes, after asking many ques- must perform your errands of charity alone." tions about the health and comfort of the in- " Be it so!" said Agnes, and she felt that valid, sat down beside old Wallis, who affec- another link was broken from the chain tionately took her hand, and pressed it closely which had once bound them together. " Be it with his time-worn fingers. so!" she repeated, but do not be harsh with " You see, I grow weaker every day," said me to-day, Arnold." he, without the least symptom of regret,:" Is there any charm in this day more than either in his countenance or voice. another, that I should not enjoy the liberty c" I do, indeed, perceive an alteration," said of speaking freely what I think and feel?" Agnes, and the old man went on. " I have "Speak, but speak gently; for it was on been thinking to day, Miss Forester, that this day twelve months ago, that I agreed pride has been all along my besetting sin- upon that time for the decision of my future pride in a good name; and though he who fate, and to-morrow, we shall stand in a difrobbed me of mine, ought certainly to have ferent relation towards each other." known me better; I have no doubt but this Arnold said no more; for there was someaffliction was permitted to fall upon me, in thing in the firm and mournful tone of her order that I might arrive at a better know- voice, which, connected with her previous ledge of my own heart; for affliction is a sadness, had startled his philosophy, and searching thing, and we sometimes learn in plunged him into the most gloomy foreboadversity, what we never so much as thought dings; and they arrived again at Mrs. Perof while all went well with us. It was wrong, cival's door without either of them having very wrong, in me, Miss Forester, to rebel relieved their minds of the heaviest burden as I did against the stroke; and when I said they had ever borne. in my towering pride, that I forgave him, I It happened that Mrs. Percival had an enfelt an unchristian triumph in the thought gagement from home that evening; in con MISANTHROPY. 43 sequence of which Arnold and his cousin is unable to say whether, in possession or were left alone to extract what happiness privation, they are most bountifully bestawed. they could from such an interview. In vain But I cannot argue with you to-night Ardid Agnes attempt to converse on common nold; we should but trace the same circle of topics; it seemed as if her very speech had ideas through which we have passed so failed her, for often, when she would have many times with so little satisfaction. All I made some casual observation, the words can now feel-all I can now say is, that you died away upon her lips, and blushes alone and I must henceforth be to each other were left to tell their meaning-perhaps the friends, and friends only." very meaning she would least have wished "You cannot mean it," said Arnold, startto reveal. At last Arnold, encouraged by ing up-" you cannot be so cruel!" her embarrassment, took her hand, and said, " Perhaps you think I cannot be so firm; with a look which belied his words, " Then but I will prove my words. Only you must it is really your intention to renounce me, come to me, Arnold, in your seasons of afflicAg nes?" tion; you must come to me always for those "Say, rather, that you renounce me," she services which you cannot ask of another; replied; " for no other words can justify the you must come to me for every thing but that anguish of this moment!" intimate communion of feeling which you "Why, dear Agnes, should you endure and I must now endeavour to find elsethat anguish which is so entirely self-im- where." posed V' Arnold was at last convinced; and, pacing " You mistake me, Arnold; the suffering to and fro in the apartment, he resigned himwhich I endure is not self-imposed. You self entirely to despair. At last he stopped think meanly of me indeed, if you think that suddenly, and, fixing his eyes upon the face I am grieving merely because I cannot be of Agnes, who was now pale and silent as a the companion of your future life. You may marble statue, he appealed for the last time find many better qualified to supply my place, to her love and pity. nor am I so romantic as to think that I shall "Then you leave me, Agnes, for ever!" never love again; but you must know little said he, in a voice whose piercing tones were of the strength of early and long cherished mingled both with anguish and reproach. affection, if you do not understand the agony " You extinguish the lamp of the benighted of seeing it thus mournfully cast away." traveller; you tear away the last rose from "Agnes, you cannot call it cast away, the withered wreath; you dash down the when it is treasured as the greatest blessing cup of healing from the lips of him who has of my life." no other. You will go forth into the world "Did I not tell you that my resolution was with a thousand sources of enjoyment of fixed? —Did I not allow you twelve months which I know nothing. The hearts and the before I should act upon that resolution?- homes of the happy are ever open to receive And what is the result?" you; the smiles of the good and the blessings " That I am the same blighted branch I of the poor await you on every hand; but was then. But am I accountable for my for me there is now neither love, hope, nor own desolation? Is it for me to give show- consolation in the wide wilderness of life!" ers and sunshine, or to put forth blossoms He ceased, and Agnes made no reply. and fruit without the blessing of heaven?" She had grown still paler while he was " The blessings of heaven are so myste- speaking-her very lips had lost their ruby riously dispensed by that wisdom which can- colour-with a gentle but determined step not err, and that mercy which cannot fail, she passed away from his presence-and that man, in his narrow sphere of knowledge, Arnold was alone. 44 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. CHAPTER X. I am not addicted to sentimental melancholy, nor would I indulge my feelings at the exIT was late on the following day when pense of duty. I have no fear of being beRandall made his appearance with a mes- trayed into a weakness inconsistent with my sage from Arnold, stating that he was under present purpose; but I do fear for my health the necessity of going to London for a few and the equanimity of my spirits, which I days, and, having many arrangements to would gladly preserve for future usefulmake before setting out, had commissioned ness." his friend with his adieus to the ladies. Mrs. Percival, startled by this unexpected "No one," observed Mrs. Percival (with proposal, into something more than her the air of one who pays a compliment,) wonted tenderness, with tears besought her " could be better calculated to take off the niece to think well before she decided. pain of an adieu." "I have thought, and I hope, thought Randall bowed, scarcely knowing whe- well," replied Agnes, "for I become more ther he was flattered or not, but deeming and more confirmed in my decision; and it the best policy to appear so. that not on my own account alone." Agnes, who knew little of the world, and " And what shall we do without you, dear had never disappointed a lover before, felt Agnes, Arnold and I together? and where anxious and alarmed when she heard of her will you go?" cousin's abrupt departure, half fearing he "That is the most serious part of the might rush upon some desperate act that matter; for you know I am poor. But surely would endanger his safety and happiness; we may hear of some kind lady, who wants and, vainly wishing that he had but left her an humble friend as an agreeable companone line to explain his intentions, she retired ion. I could hardly offer myself at present." to her own room to ponder in secret upon'No! no! you must not think of it. Neithat cruel separation which had deprived ther Arnold nor Walter would forgive me, her of all right to enquire into his private should I give my sanction to such a actions. There was besides another sub- scheme." ject of serious importance which now occu- " Ah! you have named the right person!" pied her deep and earnest consideration; exclaimed Agnes. "A friend in the hour nor was it until long after the hour of night of need has my cousin Walter ever been that she shook off her meditations and pre- to me; and if he can be brought to approve pared herself for repose; but the clear brow my plan, he will soon see it executed." reflected in the mirror by the light of a fad- And taking a pen, she sat down to explain ing lamp, wore that night an aspect more the case as well as she could, without touchcalm than it had done for many months be- ing harshly upon the faults of Arnold, for fore; and her countenance, though pale and nothing else, she thought, but a clear and thoughtful, was stamped with the firm and simple statement could enable Walter to sedate character of a well-supported resolu- judge of the propriety of her plan. tion. Mrs. Percival had permitted her niece to The next morning she sought an inter- write with full confidence that her son would view with her aunt before the cares or occu- put an immediate stop to her intended propations of the day should have dissipated ceedings. What, then, was her surprise, her thoughts; and with calm voice and col- when she herself received an answer, by relected manner she spoke of the necessity turn of post to the following effect. there was for her to seek some other place That Walter, highly approving of his of abode, where her mind might be more at cousin's intentions had applied, on the inpeace. stant, to Lady Forbes, a distant relative of "You know, dear aunt," said she, "that his mother's, whose delicate health and pe MISANTHROPY. 45 culiar habits disqualified her for taking that ing, has not been soothed by kind attentions, place in society which her character and or pained by the want of them? No! desmanners were fitted to adorn. That his pro- pise them as we will, it is the impulse of naposal was eagerly embraced; and that he ture which compels us to recall the little sershould return with his brother, for the pur- vices of our absent friends, as the dearest pose of accompanying Agnes to town. pledges of their affection. Who has not felt The prospect of so soon beholding her himself (perhaps it would be wiser to say son almost reconciled Mrs. Percival to the herself) as it were in a land of strangers, idea of losing a companion, who, since the when surrounded only by those, who, paying real cares and perplexities of life had estab- no regard to her individual tastes and feellished a closer intimacy between them, had ings in the minute circumstances of life, perbeen to her most dear and valuable; and petually crossed her inclination, and jarred still, at intervals, her tears would flow, upon upon her prejudices, by addressing her on the thought how soon these treasures would topics the most repugnant-offering her gifts both be gone. "And what shall I do," she of which she could make no use-helping would then say, " to beguile the moodiness her to food which she was not in the habit of poor Arnold?" of tasting-proposing conveyances for which But she never gave way to this kind of la- her health was entirely unfitted-choosing, mentation without regret; for there came for her gratification, enjoyments for which across the countenance of Agnes such a she had no relish; —and thus inflicting upon look of distress, as made her each time de- her the greatest annoyances of life, without termine that she would be wiser for the flu- the least idea that she was not made happy? ture. So sad it is to hear the name of one And we some of us well know, that there we love connected with tones of tenderness have been those so stripped, so destitute of and pity, for the very pain that we our- all human sympathy, that a voice in the selves have inflicted. multitude amongst whom they believed themIt was a great relief to all parties when selves to'be alone, suddenly touching their the cheerful face of Walter Percival again individual feelings by some reference, howappeared at Houghton; whether he busied ever simple, to things which they had himself with the many alterations and im- sought or shunned, approved or rejected, in provements at the castle, which his brother former days, has filled their eyes with tears, allowed him to set agoing, or entered, with and their hearts with gratitude, that any an interest peculiar to kind and social char- one should be remembering them at the acters, into his mother's sphere of domestic time when they felt themselves most desolate comfort at home. But chiefly to Agnes, cir- and forlorn. cumstanced as she then was, his social and Lady Forbes had charged Walter, if posopen manner, accompanied by the most deli- sible, to take his cousin back with him, procate respect for her feelings, shown in a mising that nothing should be wanting to tenderness that was less expressed than un- make her residence in town agreeable, and derstood, were more welcome for the ex- that she should be treated with the greatest treme need she now felt of such sympathy liberality, as money was no object with her. and support. This lady was born in India, where, at a Let none, who would add to the happiness very early age, she married Sir William of their fellow-creatures, be above those little Forbes, her senior by thirty years, at whose attentions from which the proud and the sel- death she was left in the possession of more fish excuse themselves, by saying they are wealth than wisdom to enjoy it. She had too trifling for their regard. Is not human been the mother of several children, who life made up of trifles; and what being pos- had died in infancy, all except one daughter, sessed in any degree of susceptibility of feel- sent over soon after her birth to benefit by 46 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. the air of Scotland amongst her father's re- on a couch with all the luxurious indolence lations. Whether from a want of felicity in of a more sunny clime, and her apartment her matrimonial connection, or from a com.- was furnished with a degree of costly elebination of uncongenial circumstances which gance that would scarcely have dishonoured attended the formation of her character, the a sultana. Her dark eyes half hid beneath unfortunate mother had suffered a naturally their languid lids, and long shadowy lashes, amiable temper to become completely soured; were slowly raised on the entrance of Agnes, and having, at the same time, given way to and she stretched forth a delicate white a general mistrust of her fellow-creatures, hand that dropped listlessly by her side after she had consequently few friends in India to her effort to perform a welcome, as if weighregret her departure for England, and still ed down with its burden of rings and glitterfewer to welcome her to the shores of that ing gems. country where she now bemoaned her sad Agnes felt all that uncomfortable sensation and isolated existence, without the energy with which we open out from the wrappings or even the desire to make it more happy, of a journey in the presence of those whose by being more active and useful. Compan- toilette has been more recent, and who apions she had tried in numbers almost incred- pear never to have known the touch of vulible, but, in her opinion, they had all treated gar dust; she therefore begged permission, her ungenerously, some dishonestly; and as soon as Walter had departed, to retire at she had parted from every one with mutual an early hour. Her lodging-room, that citadislike. She was now entirely alone-a sit- del of a woman's comfort, was prepared with uation of all others the most dreadful to her; the greatest taste and elegance, so that she and, from Walter's description of his cousin, almost dreaded to unfold her simple wardshe caught at the proposition with such avid- robe in such charmed precincts; but weariity, that she considered herself extremely ill- ness does much to overcome the influence of used when informed that she must wait a finery, and, though the visions which flitted few weeks before Agnes Forester could pos- before her mind, as she tossed upon the sibly appear in town. downy bed which vainly invited her to reThe appointed day, however, came at pose, were many and strange, her thoughts last; and Agnes, weary and somewhat dis- were at lest composed and settled, for she pirited, alighted from a hackney-coach with had not applied in vain to the fountain of all her cousin Walter, who wished, for the first consolation, whose healing waters were ever time in his life, that he could have driven ready for her utmost need. her up to the door in his own carriage, if One great difficulty amongst many, which only to inspire the domestics with a little attend what is called a situation, is the doubt more respect for her who, in his opinion, about the actual occupations of the day, deserved the richest honours of an admiring which every one must feel at first, from not world. knowing what is expected, what will please, Lady Forbes was a handsome woman, of or what will disappoint; nor can any thing that indescribable age about which you feel be altogether more pitiable than the fate of sorry that any one should make exact en- her who goes forth into the world to be quiries. Dark, indolent, and perfectly east- agreeable for hire. She may possibly have ern in all her habits. To have appeared en- been tenderly nurtured in a pleasant hometirely in character she should have worn a her wishes gratified —her tastes consultedcrimson or yellow turban, and slaves should her feelings indulged —the idol of a partial have been crouching at her feet, or fanning circle to which her very failings have enher with the gorgeous feathers of some In- deared her. But the stroke of affliction has dian bird. As it was, the turban and the fallen, her father's finances are suddenly reslaves alone were wanting-for she reclined duced, or his life (the prop of his family) is MISANTHROPY. 47 taken away; and, with either of these sad Deal then gently with your homeless sisevents, and the breaking up of the ~whole es- ters-ye who possess the power to buy tablishment, have come the usual falling amusement! And remember, that she from away of summer friends, the settlement of whom you are perpetually demanding symthe sons in trade, and the daughters in situa- pathy, has once enjoyed, and still may want tions. The one individual whom wve have that sympathy herself; that the fount from sing.ed out may have besides her own secret whence you would draw unceasing gratificasorrows-strange comments made upon her tion, must sometimes need supply; and that character which none dared utter before — the lamp from which you would borrow the cold treatment of a friend-a lover es- light, may not always have the blessed oil to tranged —in short, the breaking-in of the spare. floods of' adversity upon her little garden of Agnes Forester had none of these gloomy homefelt delight: but she forgets for a while associations to embitter her present lot. Her her own cares in the dispersion of her family, choice had been a voluntary one, made in and prepares to s'.lre the general wreck. A the same spirit in which we apply a wholesituation is four, L. " Hcow fortunate!" ex- some but unpalatable restorative, and as such claim those wh, must otherwise have opened she had no disposition to murmur at the dutheir doors to r, ceive he>. A morbid invalid ties which consequently fell upon her. These is in want ot nerpetual entertainment, and duties were certainly of a very mysterious the broken-cf r.ted girl must bid adieu to her character; but a willing mind can mostly native plPer -.-.),J fevery tree, and hill, and find employment sufficient even for an able grove-to all tine a rJociations of early life, hand. and the cnJerneosr of close relationship. A careless observer would have proWith p rbabiy tenfbld the refinement of nounced Lady Forbes to be the victim of those aPmongst whom her lot is cast, she goes morbid sensibility. Agnes soon discovered to dwell in a land of strangers, where she that selfishness was the root of her maladymust have neither hopes, passions, nor re- indolence the incubus that clenched her feelmembrances which may not be made sub- ings in its leaden grasp-and mistrust the servient to the purpose of pleasing her, who demon which guarded them against the enfeels, whenever her spirits begin to flag, that trance of any good, she is not receiving the worth of the money Still she was a lovely woman, possessed which she pays for her companion to keep of many graces both natural and acquired; her in good humour. and her entire helplessness, the effect of haMen may complain that they have to la- bits long indulged, rendered her an object bour with head and hand to obtain their rather of pity than dislike. daily bread; and dreadful indeed is the vor- All the mental powers which Agnes could tex into which absolute men of business are command, concentrated and direcfed to one plunged!-deadening tothe intellectual facul- purpose, were unable for some time to deties, and oppressive to the spirit that would vise any mode of acting likely to be servicegladly flee away and be at rest: but men able in such a case; but the effort which she have their hearts, their passions, their feel- made was of the greatest possible benefit to ings to themselves; they have only to calcu- herself, drawing away her thoughts from the late and look for money: while women are tree of forbidden fruit, and feeding them with taxed for their powers of pleasing, of loving, safe and wholesome sustenance. At her first serving, and suffering for others; in short, initiation into office, she was entrusted with for just what it is impossible that money enormous bunches of keys, for Lady Forbes should purchase-for the flowers of existence was tormented with the idea that her worldly that sweeten life only when they grow spon- substance was perpetually prayed upon by taneously. thieves; and, as she had too little energy to L48 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. make herself acquainted with the real value fleeting, that although the stipulation beand extent of her household possessions, and tween Lady Forbes and herself might retrusted no one, it was impossible that her quire nothing further, she had a more serimistake should be rectified. ous duty to perform, a higher covenant to "One thing I must beg of your ladyship," fulfil. said Agnes, after a few days' residence be- "Am I my brother's keeper i" is an anneath the same roof had strengthened her swer we are ever prone to make when the courage to speak freely-" that I may be daily duties which we owe to our fellowtreated with implicit confidence. If we hold creatures present themselves at an unwelourselves above all falsehood and duplicity, come season, or in a character too irksome I believe we shall be as little inclined to sus- for our indolence. No one has ever felt the pect those with whom we associate, as to power of a holy affection, without desiring associate with those whom we suspect. If to render to the beloved object a service the your ladyship is really unable to trust me en- most devoted, and sometimes the most satirely in your domestic affairs, I am sorry for cred. But is this all? Alas! the dearest it; not only because I shall then be reduced to our hearts are not always near us; to the inconvenience of choosing another and are we, therefore, to drag on a life of situation, but because I shall be convinced indifference and unconcern with those that you can never know what it is to pos- amongst whom Providence has seen meet sess a real friend." to place us? Shall we not, rather, have to Lady Forbes looked astonished, a little render an account in strict reference to them, angry, and a great deal more alarmed. of our daily walk and conversation, in which Whether her house was really about to be the answer, "Am I my brother's keeper?" turned out of the windows, she could not will be as impotent a sound as when it echotell; but, certainly, none of her companions ed from the lips of the first murderer. had ever spoken to her in this style before; Agnes Forester felt that nothing could be and, judging from present appearances, it accomplished, without interesting the feelseemed but too probable that if her house ings of her new friend-feelings which had'should go, she would go along with it. " A so long been dormant, that it required the companion!" she repeated to herself; but greatest delicacy and the most assiduous finding that Agnes waited for an answer, attention to draw them forth, without any she replied, at last, that she had certainly no appearance of impertinent intrusion upon reason to doubt the sincerity of Miss For- her private affairs. But there is one key ester: —and in this humour the two ladies which seldom fails to open the human heart, sat together without interruption during the if properly applied-the key of sympathy; rest of the morning; for Lady Forbes nrever and Agnes had so long cultivated a deep went out except on the sunniest day,-saw interest in the feelings of others, particularnobody, and partook of no amusement but ly in the sufferings which she had any hope that which has been commemorated as the of alleviating, that she could enter into the choice of a certain poet-reclining on a minutest circumstances of those around her, couch, and perpetually reading novels. without either affectation or pretence; and Happy was it for her companion that no thus she enjoyed many'opportunities of soothvoice could travel over the magic lines with ing and supporting, which others equally sufficient speed to keep alive her ladyship's willing might seek in vain by every means spirits: Agnes was, therefore, left at lib- to obtain. erty to pursue her own thoughts; and a Lady Forbes had never been so fortunate long train of unprofitable musing would as to meet with this quality in any of her doubtless have been the consequence, had former companions; and it was much to her she not roused herself into action by re- own surprise, that she found herself, at a MISANTHROPY. 49 late hour one evening, telling Agnes of her would reply, with calm brow and unblushearly marriage with one who had regarded ing cheek. " We have been brought up toher only as a lovely child, nor sought in gether from our infancy, and to me he has her society one intellectual gratification; ever been like a kind and affectionate broand the lonely, wearisome, and monotonous ther." Why would it have been impossible life which she had consequently led. It is for her to answer in the same words, and the true she had not unfrequently related this same manner, had the name of Arnold been story before, but she had never found a listen- substituted for that of Walter? er who appeared to feel with her and for Before one month had passed away, Agnes her. Those who have lived alone in a busy believed herself to be in possession of the enand stirring world can best tell what it is for tire confidence of Lady Forbes; and so esthe first time to awaken real sympathy-not sential had she become to her happiness, the simper of mere politeness, or the sigh that she was regarded as the very support of that responds from lips unacquaintedwith sin- her life,-referred to in all doubts, appealed cerity, but the deep, earnest sympathy of a to in all difficulties, and entreated oftener feeling heart. This was the happiness of than the day, never to leave her. In vain which Lady Forbes tasted for the first time; did Agnes argue, that a proper reliance upand when she parted from Agnes that night, on that support which is promised to the it was with the warm pressure of the hand needy, with the use of right reason in the -that silent earnest of future good under- common emergencies of life, would effectualstanding. ly prevent that servile dependance which Confidence once established, the way places us too much in the power of our fellowopened, and the work begun, Agnes went on creatures. Lady Forbes had only advanced with cheerful perseverance; and, although one step from the centre of selfishness, and there were many objections to the graver that step was to throw her burdens upon books which she strove at times to introduce, Agnes, who thought, acted, and spoke for her, and many excuses for the few faults which -in short, was trusted so far, as to open and she ventured to point out at first m her lady- read her letters. ship's domestic economy, and then in her It happened one day, that she had broken habits of acting and thinking, she evident- the seal of a letter at the request of her ly gained ground; and succeeded finally friend, and stood for some moments in silence in obtaining that confidence and respect, before she began to read. Lady Forbes without which, she could have done noth- looked up, wondering that she did not proing. ceed, and catching a glimpse of the hand It was with the greatest satisfaction that writing, uttered a loud shriek, sprang to the Walter found his cousin, now fully establish- side of Agnes, and, snatching the letter from ed on the footing of a tried and valued friend, her hand, demanded in a hurried manner, rather than a mere companion. "But Ag- whether she had seen any of the contents. nes makes every one love and respect her," "I saw the name of mother," replied Agsaid he, with a sigh, which none but himself nes, " and I blush to think that this is the could rightly interpret; and he resolved to first intimation I have had, that Lady Forbes call more frequently, since the manners of has a daughter still living." Lady Forbes began to be less forbidding. For a proper explanation of this mysterious She would even join with social good hu- letter, it will be necessary to go back to the mour m the society of the two cousins, and circumstances which had transpired at sometimes rallied Agnes on the attentions of Houghton Castle. her faithful knight. "Poor Walter!" Agnes 50 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. CHAPTER XI. I and leaning against the wall, he fell again into a deep and silent reverie. Few persons ARNOLD Percival had seldom been so much can be so much absorbed by meditation, as roused as when he first learned the determl- to be insensible to the sound of their own nation of his cousin Agnes. The degrada- names; and Arnold, who had before been tion, the annoyance, to which she might be deaf to the conversation within, now found exposed, rushed upon his mind with aggra- that he could distinctly hear the following vated horrors; indeed the scheme was alto- words spoken with that freedom and emphagether so hateful to him, that silent as he sis which belong to the excitement of wine. usually was, as to anything connected with "Bored to death, my good fellow. Nohis inner feelings, he found it difficult on thing but the idea that he is incapable of this occasion to be quiet; and what is worse managing his own affairs, would induce me than all besides to an enraged man, he had to listen for another day to the eternal story no one to reproach,-nothing of which he of his wrongs, sufferings, and sorrows." could complain; for she who was the source " But what say you of his horses, his taand root of his provocation, bore too sacred bles, and his wine? for these are the temptaa name for him to sully it with a breath of tions to hold by a friend." blame, and the act itself, though humiliating " His horses are good, but he never hunts; in the eye of the world, wore no impress but his table is more indebted to the liberality of that of a noble and independent character. his house-keeper than himself; and of what Feeling that he had no just grounds for his value are his wines to me, when he never indignation, he shunned the society of his drinks? In fact, you never saw such a momother, whose quick perceptions and un- ping owl out of the liberty of a church-yard. scrupulous freedom, would neither permit A slight metamorphosis would make him him to be silent, nor tolerate his vindication into a cypress tree, standing by the side of a of a wrong cause. In this temper he had grave. But the best joke is yet to come.-I little disposition to do the honours of his forgot to tell you of his pride -— " house to a friend of Randall's who dined at "Proud, is he?" the castle that day; and retiring from table "Aye, as the son of the morning. Lately, at an early hour, with the best apology his however, he has evinced symptoms of being ingenuity could invent, he took his wonted in love with a poor portionless cousin, whom stroll about the grounds and garden, after he thought to make the lady of his castle; the departure of the daylight had secured but she, forsooth, entertaining some romantic him from the observations of impertinence. notions about duty and that sort of thing, The same lovely picture of quiet and repose would none of him, but shot off to a situation lay stretched before him in the light of a in town-a governess, milliner, or compouncloudless moon, —the same scene unchanged der of sweet-meats, I know not which; leavby the stormy passions which struggled for ing the broken-hearted lover to sigh away the empire of his heart. In vain he asked his sorrows to the winds that howl around for sympathy from nature, who answered him his dreary castle." in silence and beauty, while his soul was a " Are my horses ready for a journey?" stranger to repose; and he felt as if the said Arnold to the first domestic who apsolemn majesty of night was speaking to his peared in the entrance-hall. " Tell Collins troubled spirit in the ianguage of reproach. I shall set off to-morrow morning for the After passing to and fro, until wearied north;" and so saying he walked up stairs with his own fruitless repinings, he turned to his own apartment with a firm and detertowards the door, and would have entered, mined step, that startled Collins from his but the sounds of uncongenial mirth issuing evening slumbers. What a pity that the filfrom the dining-room, checked his purpose, lip which his energies had just received did FIMISANTHROPY. 5 not spur him on to something more important northern expedition," Collins still muttered than a journey he knew not whither. But to himself' On to the north,' is the only anwe measure the magnitude of our resolves swer I get; but I suppose the sea will stop more by the effort they cost us, than by the us some time, and that before long, if we effect they are likely to produce; and thus travel at this rate." we not unfrequently expend the whole force The fact was, Arnold himself haa no fixed of our minds in accomplishing some puny purpose in his journey. The mighty effort purpose, which would scarcely have required of setting off had cost too much for him to be one previous thought in the well-regulated capable of resolving again so soon, and had conduct of a rational being. not the lame horse decided the matter, they The man who wiL not use his energies in might, as Collins surmised, have paid their the common affairs of life, though he may respects to Johnny Groat, or rather his de[fancy himself possessed of powers which scendants, in their family mansion. The would, under certain circumstances, render small inn at Which their rapid course termi-'him grand and terrific; yet these circum- nated, was by no means destitute of comfort, stances never happening to occur, he floats and Collins congratulated himself on his upon the stream of time as weak and -worth- good fortune in having escaped a highland less as any other bubble. The most impor- bog. tant test of what mankind have agreed to Arnold was the least satisfied of any of the designate by the word character, is the use- party, horses included; and when he entered fulness by which a track is left upon the map the inn room fitted up for the reception of the of life, to mark out the course of a certain in- higher class of travellers, it was not with the dividual, and direct posterity to the same best possible grace that he saluted a young goal. Arnold Percival could have given no man in the dress of a sportsman, who had better account of the purpose of his present already obtained possession, and who looked journey, in preparing for which he raised his up only for a moment from the lock of his whole household, and made himself as'busy gun, about which he was busy both with as he could be about anything, than that he head and hand. His weary dogs were sleephoped to drive away reflection, and by flying ing at full length by the fire, and stirred not from place to place, to leave himself behind. at the approach of Arnold, who felt it rather And had he been asked what trace would be too great an imposition on his good humour left of him after his death, he would have an- to be compelled to endure the company of swered, with gloomy satisfaction, A naine- both man and.dogs. The gun at last being less tomb:" as if men were sent upon the thoroughly examined and repaired, Kenneth earth for no more glorious: purpose than that Frazer began, with perfect urbanity and of mingling again with its perishable:dudt. freedom, to converse on the common topics There is nothing like expeditious travel- of the game, and the game season. ling, for lulling the senses to sleep, for dead- "Let the gentleman come to the fire," said ening the perceptions that are too keen, and he, rousing his sleepy animals. "Sad dogs softening down the impressions that are too these of mine, sir-but there's no making vivid. It seems to supply a constant conduc- gentlemen of brutes." tor to the overcharged feelings, which are "Can you reverse the rule," said Arnold, consequently relieved without an explosion. i nd answer as fully V' " We are certainly going to Johnny Groat's I fear not," replied Kenneth, with such a house," said Collins to the coachman,who good-humoured, happy countenance, that complained that one of his horses had been the gloomy misanthrope felt almost ashamed lame for the last three stages, and would be of his remark, and changing the subject, he unable to proceed much farther. then told his companion the reason of his "I have never heard of any bounds to this unwelcome detention, and how much he 24 52 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. apprehended from the annoyances of his horses and an equipage fit for a prince but, present situation. never mind that, I dare say he will be hun" I have been thinking," said Kenneth, gry in due time, as well as meaner people; that your Southern habits would ill accord and there can be no doubt about my mowith the wild mountain life that we lead ther's larder. Still one cannot eat always, here; nor do I know, if I should ask you to and how to entertain him is the question, go with me to my mother's house to-night, without Ida." whether I should not be subjecting you to Arnold now returned, and really well scenes and circumstances equally at vari- pleased with the comfortable aspect of all ance with your taste; but if you will trust things around him, thanked his host most yourself to the warm welcome of a high- cordially for the unexpected improvement in land home, I have a good mother, who will his circumstances. A plentiful repast wassoon make you as happy as she can." spread before him, and Mrs. Frazer remindArnold, at the same time that he was ing him of his own mother in her genuine half tempted to accept this invitation, forced hospitality, certain thoughts of home in this himself to decline it, with many protesta- far-off country, made his heart for a motions that he could not be guilty of such an ment glow with gratitude, that he had found unwarrantable intrusion. a welcome so entirely unsought and un" Guilty or not guilty," said Kenneth, " I merited. will order your horses, and if you will pro- If a man be capable of cheerfulness, it mise to ride a moderate pace, I will be your will surely be, when, after long travelling escort through the glen, which leads us to through strange places, with nothing to my mother's house by a nearer way than cheer him by the way but inn-welcomes, the public road." (with which the poet Shenstone, no doubt In half an hour the travellers were wel- for want of better, was so well pleased,) he comed at the door of a spacious and venera- becomes, unexpectedly, the recipient of geble hall, half covered with wreaths of luxu- nuine kindness, and is plunged at once into riant ivy, and spangled over with the white the very centre of home comforts. Arnold stars of the rambling rose. A group of felt all this, and along with it, a transient happy, healthy looking girls gathered round touch of happiness that lighted up his brow their brother, casting, ever and anon, shy and made him one of the handsomest of' glances at the stranger, who was more cor- men. dially greeted by the mother, a respectable " What a pity Ida is not here!" whispered and matronly dame. But Kenneth pushed Catherine to her brother: but a sudden on, with anxious and enquiring glance, as if thought had just flashed across his mind, and he had not yet seen all nor half his mother's he did not wish for her quite as much as he household. At last exclaiming with impa- had done at first. tience, " Where is Ida?" he was answered Weariness and excitement rendered sleep in a tone of regret by many voices at once, too desirable for either the stranger or the that she had left home in the morning on a sportsman to sit up late that night; and Arvisit to a friend, and would not return until nold sunk to rest with a faint notion that he the following day. might possibly be happy if he lived amongst " Sad news is that for any guest of ours;" the mountains of Scotland. replied Kenneth, "for, good girls as you all The next morning the name of Ida was are, there is no happiness like the sight of upon every lip again, until Arnold, little acIda amongst you. I believe I have brought customed to be curious, began really to pona very fine gentleman home with me," he der in his own mind who this Ida could be. continued in a lower tone, when Arnold had The girls could not be persuaded to walk, left the room, "for he travels with four because they expected Ida every moment; MISANTHROPY. 53 they could neither play nor sing because Ida pointment which had begun to darken the was not there to join them; in short, nothing brow of the beholder. could be accomplished or enjoyed without All was now changed within the hospitaIda; and who this all-absorbing creature ble home of the Frazers. Good humour, was, Arnold was quite too dignified to ask. mirth and gaiety, reigned throughout. Every Had there been no hope of seeing her his heart seemed lightened, and even the Misancuriosity might possibly have got the bet- thrope forgot for a while to rail against manter of his pride, but the expectations of the kind. In conversation Ida was more expert party now ran high, and even he conde- than profound; but the family with whom scended at intervals to direct his gaze to she had been tenderly nurtured, were so acthe point of sight from whtence the blessed customed to attach importance to her simvision was to issue. plest words and actions, that every thing she She came at last. A young happy-look- uttered seemed to have a peculiar meaning, ing girl, mounted on a spirited pony, rushed and every thing she did, a peculiar grace. past the windows, with a merry smile and a Gentle reader, hast thou ever been thus nod of recognition to her friends, who an- cherished? Hast thou ever dwelt in the swered her well-known greeting with accla- centre of a circle of partial admirers, where mations of delight. thy voice was a sound commanding instant "Is this all?" said Arnold to himself. " A attention, thy smile the awakening of joyous wild highland lassie, when I had been laughter, and the expression of thy slightest dreaming of Ida of Athens and all the other wish the signal for immediate gratification; poetical Idas." But Ida herself was now where thy countenance was watched with led in by Kenneth, who introduced her to the tender anxiety of unceasing affectionthe stranger by her christian name, as if where thy mere playfulness'was hailed as that alone were a sufficient distinction. the very soul of wit, and where all thy faults She was indeed a beautiful girl; with eyes were regarded as interesting peculiarities? which the memory never loses after they Hast thou then gone forth from the genial have once been seen and felt-eyes of that atmosphere of this garden enclosed, to learn, peculiar character, that, to say they were amongst impartial strangers, the real value brown, grey, or azure, would be to libel of thy boasted endowments? To speak their pure and spiritual expression, which where no one cared to listen-to smile and strikes the heart with a sensation, indepen- behold the blank faces of those who shared dent of the mere qualities of shape and co- not in thy joy; and, worse than all, to weep lour-eyes that seem, not so brilliant in where thy tears were unheeded? Yet themselves, as lighted fromwithin by a ra- murmur not, for such is the lesson we all, diance so bright as to beautify every thing soon or late, must learn; and such are they gaze upon. amongst the painful means made use of to These eyes were turned upon Arnold with teach us that self is not intended as the obmore than common interest, for the arrival of ject of our idolatry; that we are each as a stranger of distinction in that remote dis- travellers bound upon a pilgrimage, at the trict, was an event of rare occurrence; and end of which we shall have to give an acwhen we connect such eyes with a form of count to a gracious Master, of the services perfect symmetry, bright, but varying com- we have rendered or neglected to our brethplexion, regular features, and a snowy fore- ren by the way. Well may we tremble head, half hid by a profusion of auburn then to find that we have been receivers only, curls, which the playful wind had woven into partaking of the wine and the oil which wild and fantastic wreaths, there can be lit- others have ministered unto us, while we tie wonder that such a vision of youth and have not so much as touched their burdens beauty soon dispelled the feeling of disap- with one of our fingers! 54. PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. The beautiful creature, upon whom Ar- CHAPTER XII. nold gazed with increasing admiration, lived like a butterfly in a bower of roses, never "KENNETH," said Ida, "I am bent on condreaming of aught but enjoyment. The evil quest. I am eighteen, and have never had propensities incident to human nature had what the'world calls a lover. Do you think never been called into action in her young I could captivate a man of sense?-Not of heart; her will had never been crossed, her sense exactly, but a grave man-a gloomy vanity mortified, nor her caprice rebuked; man-a —" and therefore she believed what every one "Just such a man as told her-that she was no less amiable than " Spare my blushes!" she exclaimed, lovely. "Amiable she must be," thought laughing, and playfully laying across his' the kind but injudicious friends by whom she eyes a hand so exquisitely white and beautiwas surrounded, "for she never sees a coun- full.that few men would have wished for its ltenance overcast with gloom, but she en- removal, Kenneth sat under its pressure deavours to chase away the clouds." They with patience if not with philosophy; and forgot the possibility that this might be solely she went on. for her own sake, because her own gaiety "Mention no names, but tell me what you [was damped by the gloom of another. think of my power." With the light, easy confidence of one who "Of your beauty you will not allow me to is unacquainted with ridicule or reproof, she judge, nor of your good sense, since I may soon commenced a spirited warfare against not even guess at the object of your choice; the moodiness of Arnold; and, finding her- but of your power to blind, I am at this inself foiled by his grave arguments, seized stant a living witness-and blindness, they Iher guitar, and, with an arch smile, that but say, is a great help in cultivating the tender for her beauty would have'been provokingly passion." triumphant, struck into a light air, accompa- "Then, I release you at once, lest you nied by the following words: should become a victim to it; for it is a man of sense, you know, that my ambition points [Oh! tell not to me-I am happpy and young- at." Of the cold winds that blight, and the storms that destroy'; " Thank you, Ida. Then I am to underOf the hours when the chords of the heart are unstrung, stand that you are serious?'" And may not be tuned to the music of joy. " I am never serious; "No, I am never serious; but-" I know not such hours, for my heart has no chord " But I see that you have placed a white That will not respond to the rapture of bliss; rose with My song has no echo, my lips have no word To tell of a moment less happy than this. your hair —that you have arranged your dress with more than common attentionI feel not, I heed not, the canker and blight and that there is a bright sparkle in your eye, That fall on the children of sorrow and gloom! My life is a day of unclouded delight, that tells of anticipated triumph.' In a gay sunny garden of odour and bloom. i And what objection have you to my scheme?" My forehead is graced with a garland so fair, That no dark-boding frown ever lingers beneath. " Nay, Ida, you must first tell me the meThen touch not my flowers too rudely, nor tear rits of it." One sweet-scented blossom away from my wreath. " Oh! a little change, and the pleasure of And say not the tempest is howling around, laughing at a grave man all day." Nor point to the clouds that may gather afar, " Are you so weary of us, then.: or have But fly from my bright world, where roses abound, you so little love and kindness shown you Away to some lonely and desolate star. here, that you wish to throw yourself upon the untried feelings of a stranger?" "Don't talk to me so gravely, Kenneth. MISANTHROPY. 55 I will not stay to hear you: I have promised heard the hour appointed for dinner. Into ride with Mr. Percival this morning-will deed, a general dulness prevailing over the you see that my pony is ready?" establishment, made the time seem longer to As her light form flitted from before the those at home than it really was. The eyes of Kenneth, a sad thought crossed his family group had seen the two equestrians mind-more sad than the first blight to the set off; each cherishing some secret cause spring-blossoms-the first frost of autumn- of disappointment, scarcely acknowledged to the first cloud that passes over the moon themselves, still less to each other Cawhen the midnight tempest is gathering. It therine had ordered her pony, too, and Ida was the first injurious suspicion of her he knew that she loved riding as well as any loved-the first idea he had ever entertained one; but Ida had mentioned herself only that Ida was less noble and affectionate than whenever she spoke of that morning's excurhe had fondly deemed her. sion with their visitor. Margaret was just Ida's graceful form and girlish beauty going to show Mr. Percival her greenhouse, were well displayed when mounted on a when Ida called him back, telling him it was spirited pony, which she reined in with in- time to set off. Rosa had given up the hat comparable dexterity, while her eyes were she wanted herself, because Ida complained lighted up with animation; and her luxuriant that her own was not becoming; and Kenhair, which possessed the rare quality of neth, poor Kenneth! had never seen any curling naturally, lost none of its beauty, by other gentleman than himself riding with Ida waving in the fresh gale of an autumnal before: but he had nothing to complain of: morning. and therefore he took his gun, whistled up Arnold, delighted with the gay picture, his dogs, patted them with more cordiality which presented such a perfect contrast to than ever, and comforted himself with the his own dark imaginings, lost himself in love of the dumb creatures, in which nobody strange visions of what some would have could rival him. called happiness. At a late hour Ida returned with her com"Ida," said he, suddenly breaking the panion, hope in her eye, and triumph on her chain of reflection, and starting at the idea brow. Absorbed entirely in herself and her of his own familiarity. There was some- own gratification, she acted the part too often thing in his voice which invariably com- acted by young ladies; and while affecting manded attention; and when his fair com- to be so amiable as to notice everybody, panion turned her face, he apologized for the showed each individual, too plainly, how abfreedom he had used, saying he had found sent they had been from her thoughts. To the name of Ida associated with so much love Mrs. Frazer she expressed unusual surprise and happiness, that he had neglected to en- and concern that dinner should have had to quire for any other. wait. Of Catherine, who had had no one to ride " Then Ida let it be," said she, with the with her, she asked if she had tried her pony frankness, if not quite with the innocence, of that morning; of Margaret, who had lately a child: "It is the name I bear from all who suffered from a sprained ankle, she inquired love me, and cannot be unwelcome from whether she had been to the brow of the you." hill; of Rose, who had risen with a bad Arnold, like all proud and reserved per- head-ache, why she looked so dull; and sons, was charmed with the openness which when dinner was nearly over, she found out, spared his dignity the cost of making ad- with regret, that Kenneth was not present. vances; and the ride was prolonged that It is by such absurdities as these that womorning, over purple heath and mossy dell, men incur the ridicule of men and the malice until the party at home began to wonder of each other. The naked exposure of selwhether the English gentleman and Ida had fishness and vanity, which Madame de Gen 56 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. lis has exhibited in her " Palace of Truth," ]edged lover, and her future husband!-a is surely less disgusting than this attempt at situation no less surprising to himself than to deception, which conceals the real state of others. the case from no one but the pretender. All was consternation in the apartments cf'" But Ida was so lovely, so young, so hap- the fair sisters, when Ida told her tale of py; she had been so long their favourite, it wonder; and although it was accompanied would be so sad for an unkind word to reach by many fits of hysterical weeping, she had her ear, or for the breath of blame to obscure no answer for the often-repeated questioneven for a moment, the sunshine of her life." " Then why don't you refuse him at once, if So reasoned this generous but ill-judging fa- the thought of leaving us makes you so unmily; and then, " she was like an orphan, happy?"-But young ladies are not always too, cast upon their care by a heartless and unhappy when they weep:-and Ida was well cruel mother. No, Ida could not have a pleased at the bottom of her heart with this fault; she must be loved and cherished, and crisis in her affairs. tenderly treated." So they put the best con- The letter which had produced so unexstruction they could upon all her actions; and pected a revolution, in the usually quiescent if mankind in general would have treated her Lady Forbes, was one from her daughter, as kindly, she might have passed through announcing this important event; accomthe world like a creature in a dream. But panied by another from Arnold; who, when many a hard hand is stretched forth to tear he found that the lady with whom Agnes reaway the curtain of self-deception; and even sided was no other than the mother of Ida, Ida, in her turn, was compelled to look into would almost have sacrificed his new-found "That naked sepulchre, the human heart." treasure to have been excused the task of writing it. "But I have plunged into the There can be no need to trace the pro- gulf," said he, "and there is no receding. gress of that sort of delusion which is com- The gulf!" he repeated,-and shuddered as monly called an attachment, where the vanity if cold waters were closing over him. of each party is fed by the preference of the As soon as Lady Forbes had a little reother, and where self-love is kept alive by the covered from the repeated fits of compunchope of future gratification. Many mornings tion, which, on the discovery of her secret, like that lately described came and went. had threatened to overwhelm her, she enThe two equestrians were never weary of deavoured to apologize to Agnes for her ambling over the heathy hill, or through the unnatural conduct by a train of ill-formed exwinding glen; and Ida was as lovely each cuses, which, to such a character as that she day as the preceding. Once, only once, had was addressing, only made the case appear Arnold seen a touch of sadness on her brow. more unnatural still. She was talking of her mother, and a pearly " I was afraid of the trouble," said shetear stood on her eyelashes, until he wonder- " I felt that I had no strength, no nerves to ed how it could be possible for any of her cope with the boisterous spirits of a child-I kith and kin, up or down to the remotest could not do my duty to her — she was branch or root of relationship, to neglect to placed with the best sort of people in the claim the privilege of being one of Ida's kin- world, and my remittances have been most dred. This one tear, with the heavy droop- liberal and punctual. She has had the first ing of the eyelids, the gentle fall of the voice, masters-the most finished education while and the graceful bending of the head, melted she lived in the City of Edinburgh, and every away the last link in the chain of his philoso- advantage in the way of health and happiphy; and he found himself by the side of a ness in the country. But I see you cannot girl of eighteen, to whose real character he forgive me, Agnes-you will never love me was a comparative stranger, her acknow- again. Nay, do not turn away, nor look so MISANTHROPY. 57 sorrowful-I would rather make you angry arrival in England there certainly had been than make you weep. Dear Agnes, why something to allege in her behalf in her imare you so pale?" paired constitution, and real inability to take "The evening is cold, and I feel the draught any active part in life. Even the idea of befrom the door." holding her child overwhelmed her with ner" Sit down beside me, then, and give me vous apprehensions, and the accounts she one of your long lectures. You do not say received at stated intervals from her late a word to me now, Agnes-now that you husband's relations of little Ida's health and find me out to be more sinful than you ever happiness, led her in time to persuade herthought me before.' self that it was a duty to allow her to remain "Lady Forbes," said Agnes, rising, and in Scotland. Thus years passed on, and she speaking in such a hollow mournful tone, ac- grew more and more nervous at the thought companied by such a look of anguish that of seeing her daughter, in proportion as she her ladyship was awed into silence-" my felt ashamed of not having earlier sought an lecture for this night shall be comprised in a interview; and she vainly endeavoured to few words. Remember that those with console herself with the idea that her error, whom you live may sometimes have griefs persisted in for a few months longer, would which are altogether unconnected with your- add little to the culpability of years. No self. I do not feel like myself to-night, but I sooner, however, had she become intimately hope to be quite recovered in the morning; acquainted with Agnes Forester, than a sort and if I never trouble you in this way again, of second conscience seemed to be set upon may I claim it as my reward that I shall her; and the neglect of her daughter, which never be questioned respecting my behaviour she had before regarded more as her misforat this time?" tune than her fault, arose before the quickLady Forbes held out her hand with tears ened sight of her newly-awakened mind in in her eyes. Agnes took it affectionately, the character of a crime-a crime too deep and pressed upon her forehead a kiss of to be disclosed-which, although it haunted peace, saying, in a low but solemn voice, her every day like a frightful spectre, she " My dear friend, I have often prayed for fondly hoped would remain invisible to every you;-will you this night offer up a petition one but herself The shock being once over, for one who is more needy than yourself?" it was a relief, however, to have it disclosed, How Agnes spent that night will be best and she sat languidly pleading with her comunderstood by those who have known the panion in favour of the past, never dreaming pressure of grief under which no earthly that a greater trial was yet to come. friend could comfort or relieve them. In the Agnes Forester was not one to let remorse morning she was able to appear, as she had alone suffice either for herself or others. anticipated, herself again; and, after hearing "Let us say no more on this subject," said repeated a long list of excuses from Lady she, " at present, but talk of the future. You Forbes, she combated her reasoning, or will, of course, take the earliest opportunity rather her want of reasoning, with argu- of seeing your daughter now?" ments which will suggest themselves too Lady Forbes looked aghast; and her love readily to the mind of every judicious, or for her late favourite, seemed, like the coueven kindly feeling woman, to need repeti- rage of Acres, to be oozing out at. the ends tion here. of her fingers. Perhaps the grand error in her ladyship's'" At all events," Agnes proceeded, " these conduct was one in which we too frequently letters must be answered. Have you any indulge-the justifying her deeds unto her- objection to the match?" self after she had let slip the first and most "Every objection in the world," replied: fitting opportunity of acting rightly. On her her ladyship.-" Ida is quite too young-she 58 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. has never been properly introduced. She hearts overflowing towards them with floods cannot know how to govern a household;- of tenderness, and while some mournful besides, I shall inevitably become a grand- voice seems to whisper it will not always be mother. No, no-the thing is out of all rea- thus, we long to stretch out our arms to shield son." them from the threatening storm; and offer"Your last objection," observed Agnes, ing the bosom already torn, to receive the coolly, "will hardly do to allege; and the poisoned arrow which may be meant for others are such as a very little reasoning them. may easily set aside. For instance, was not One of these fair flowers, inspiring the beyour ladyship married at an earlier age? holder with prophetic sadness, was Ida-the Will not your daughter be very properly in- cherished-the beloved: and when she took troduced under the protection of a husband? her place for the last evening of her life, in and is she not more likely to have learned to the midst of the family circle of which she govern a household while residing with a had been the central gem, they sung withdomestic family in Scotland than had she out the sweet accompaniment of her voice, been trained up in town?" their last farewell in the following simple "Well, well," answered the lady, peevish- words:ly "I see every body is against me-answer them as you like." FAREWELL TO IDA. / " As I like!" said Agnes, with such a sigh Adieu! adieu! beloved one! as would have affected any heart that was A mournful strain we breathe; not too closely coiled around its own centre. The fairest blossom of the spring " I will answer them favourably with your Is falling from our wreath. permission,' she proceeded; and Lady Our gem will soon be snatch'd away, Forbes sighed too, before she yielded her re- The gem so proudly worn; luctant consent. The chord of sweetest melody From our silent harp be torn. Not many weeks after this time, Arnold Then fare thee well, beloved one! was again a guest beneath the hospitable We cannot give thee more roof of Mrs. Frazer, where some wished that Than a blessing on thy parting steps, his horse had never been lame, or that it had When our happy dream is o'er. been lame again a few stages earlier in his Have we not shared one blessed home, journey. In childhood's sunny hours?'Tis idle now to answer us, Ida had grown graver in his absences, at That home will still be ours. least she had fits of gravity, or rather sadWe shall want thy merry smile, Ida, ness, and would sometimes give way to vio- To fill our hearts with glee; lent weeping, which was succeeded by We shall miss thee at the close of day, laughter almost as violent; but she was de- When the dew lies on the lea. lighted with her wedding-dresses, and un- We seek thee in the forest glen, questionably happy while fitting them on. Beside the wimpling burn; And ask the forest birds to say Her eyes had lost none of their lustre, but When Ida will return; those who studied her countenance, when we shall gatherall the wild flowers they were bent down, involuntarily yielded Which Ida used to love, to sensations of pity; when, suddenly she And place them in our bosoms, would look up again with laughing gaiety, Our fond regret to prove.;:as if she had been playing tricks with their We shall mark the spot so faithfully, Where thy fav'rite roses grow; Nor lose it from our memory, What is it?-what can it be, that makes Beneath the deepest snow; us gaze upon some of the fairest works of We shall sing our winter songs again creation, through the mist of tears. Our Around the evening fire; MISANTHROPY. 59 But the sweetest sounds without thee, of the mind from things present, which in Will be like a broken lyre. certain cases, was intolerable-affections Still, still thou canst not leave us, Ida; dormant, or else preoccupied-interest unWhen summer woods are green, awakened, or never to be awakened again; Thy gentle form by burn and brae, In fancy will be seen. and in short, Kenneth Frazer was a stranger to reverie. Thy cheek in many a sweet flower, Thy brow in silent eve, Arriving at these conclusions by the same When heavenly dews all silently process of thought, and, almost at the same Their misty mantle weave, instant, the married pair looked at each And wilt thou not in sunny hours, other, but spoke not;-they had nothing to Sweet Ida, long to be say. Each wanted tobe amused —to receive Once more among the green hills, OnLike morea happy bird and fthe green hills, -but not to give. Oh! the dullness of that long journey! And long, indeed, it seemed Can aught be dear to Ida's heart, Which nature hath not nurs'd X likely to be, for neither party had a will of Can aught in after life be worth their own; both so obliging that they would The best love and the firsti not-could not choose where their travel was Then take from those who love, thee, Ida, to end. Ida, when appealed to, had no A blessing on thy way; wish; Arnold had no wish but to gratify A blessing on thy parting steps, And on thy bridal day. And on thy bridal day. her; and, Collins began to fear with greater reason than before, that their journey would And fare thee well, beloved one! A long anr sad adieu! o be terminated only by the Land's End. Thou may'st seek the wide world over In process of time, however, there arose And find no friends more true. such pertinent remarks as these, accompanied by smiles that were not of the heart: "How pleasant it is," observed one, 1" when persons will decide." "There is nothing," replied the other, " which annoys me so much CHAPTER XIII. as indecision." " Name any place you would like to see, THE happy couple! (alas! that pleasant either in England or abroad, and we will words should ever lose their original mean- soon be there," said Arnold. "~ All are alike ing by frequent misapplication)-The hap- to me." py couple set off on their journey southward; " You know I have seen nothing," sweetly Arnold, well pleased to have escaped a fit replied the bride. " Any tour that you would of hysterics, to which he had lately discov- have the goodness to propose would be graered that Ida was particularly liable. Now tifying to me." if there was one kind of convulsion of the "I said all places were alike to me. I human framemore repugnant to his taste should have made an exception of London," than all others, it was an hysterical convul- observed Arnold, with a sigh. sion. It argued an uncollected mind; an " How unfortunate that London should be undignified character; a general derange- the very place I had set my heart upon!" ment of those faculties which operate to replied Ida, and she, too, sighed. maintain self-possession; —in short, Agnes It will be easily perceived, that these two Forester was never guilty of hysterics. individuals had married on a wrong foundaThene considerations produced a reverie; tion. They had each been accustomed to and if there was one kind of stagnation of the constant subserviency, and:the frequent the human frame more repugnant to the homage of all around them; expecting and taste of Ida than all others, it was the stag- receiving their gratifications from the hands nation of reverie; —it argued a wandering of others. Self was thecentre around which 60 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. their separate interests revolved, with a per- by the sight of spectacles of wretchedness petual monotony of motion; and woe unto and vice, which are but too apt to weigh that self when the centripetal machine was down that lively sense of a gracious provinot supplied from without. dence, which it is so desirable to bear about Against remaining in London, Arnold was with us. Still, as it is God's world and not decided; and having a more determined ours, we may surely leave to him the govwill than his fair bride, she was allowed to ernment of all that is beyond the reach of make another choice, in consequence of our private resources. As well might the which, they set off to spend the winter in the husbandman say,'I have ploughed and south of France. sown, but the rains have sometimes deAgnes Forester had consulted with her scended to deluge my lands; I will, therecousin Walter, as she did in all her emer- fore, cultivate my fields no more,'-as we gencies, when she first heard of this extraor- withhold our hands from the needy, because dinary match; and they had agreed, that let our bounty has sometimes fallen upon the the consequences be what they might, they unworthy. Man reasons better, where he were both from their relative circumstances reasons in favour of his own interests, and highly improper persons to interfere; one therefore keeping back nothing which befrom pecuniary considerations, and the other longs to his own department, the husbandfrom considerations of a more delicate nature. man ploughs and sows again, trusting to The apprehensions of Lady Forbes were God to give the increase. lulled to rest, by hearing that the married "I would not willingly hear this miserapair had passed through London without al- ble plea brought forward by any one whom lowing her an oppor.tunity of seeing them; I esteem, because I believe it is generally an opportunity which Walter was also well made use of by the indolent and the avaripleased to have escaped. All three seemed cious, to spare themselves the trouble and to think a storm had happily passed over, the expense of charity. We know that and Agnes tried to look unhurt. Faithful in there is selfishness and dishonesty enough in the performance of her daily duties, she went the world to induce the unprincipled to take on with her routine of wonted occupations, advantage of our credulity. Our Saviour from which, nothing short of entire inability knew this, when he addressed the young could divert her, and this inability she did man who had been endeavouring to justify not allow herself to think of unless its claims himself by the fulfilment of many duties in were imperative. these clear and imperative words;' Sell all Lady Forbes had suffered herself to be- and give to the poor.' And whatever may come the victim of suspicion, making fre- be the depravity of mankind, it remains no quent use of that self-preserving argument, less incumbent upon us to share our plenty that, " as there are so many impostors, it is with the needy, but at the same time, to better not to give at all." spare no pains so to distribute our bounty " You have, it is true, been sometimes de- that it may flow in the channels most likely ceived," observed Agnes, in the midst of one to lead to good. After all we are but blind of her often repeated attempts to extend her and feeble instruments, and may sometimes ladyship's bounty; but there is still sufficient defeat our own purposes; but if we have penury and want that is undeniable." done our little part, according to the best of c" And so there would be, were I to give our fallible judgment, and if we have done away my last farthing. Behold with what a it with perseverance, patience, humilrly, and population of paupers our streets are filled!" prayer, we shall be happier than those can " That is one of my objections to living ever be who remain inactive in the field of in a large city," said Agnes; "for, do as labour, neither scattering seed in due seamuch as we will, the heart is still oppressed son, nor reaping in time of harvest." MISANTHROPY. 61 A greater proof could scarcely have been chateau, which happened to strike their atgiven of the natural goodness of temper and tention, from its beautiful and picturesque disposition which Lady Forbes possessed, situation. Here they again sat in waiting than her willingness to hear the truth from for amusement-that capricious nymph who Agnes, however humiliating it might be. seldom comes when especially invited, but She had long been dissatisfied with every delighting to glide in and out at pleasure thing around her, secretly believing the root amongst the different scenes of life, someof the evil to be in herself; and so weary of times exhibits her " soncie face," where it is life under existing circumstances, that she least befitting) " mang better fowk:" always would almost have caught at any thing that making herself the most welcome as well as held out a hope of change. Harassed with the most frequent guest where the room is such feelings, she was the more ready to lis- supplied with occupants of more importance, ten to what she called the long lectures of and she is not expected to take the chief her companion; especially as Agnes never seat. failed to accompany even her severest com- Arnold was no less surprised than grieved ments, by every kind attention, and proof to find that Ida had not brought her good of tender attachment, which arose from the spirits, her gleesome look, and merry laugh, genuine impulse of her affectionate heart. from Scotland with her. He had overlooked While contemplating the character of.the impossibility of transplanting, along with Lady Forbes, over which long indulgence the beautiful flower, the genial atmosphere of injurious habits had obtained a lament- in which its early bloom had been cherished: able ascendency, it is true, Agnes was, at and poor Ida felt as if she had now nothing times, but too much inclined to despair; but, in the wide world to live for. Self had checking all calculations about the future, hitherto been her object, but when that obshe went on with her arduous duties, cheered ject was ministered to on every hand, watchby the reflection that while man is but re- ed, admired, and nurtured with the tenderest quired to use such means as are placed in care, self-love was a very different thing his power, with God all things are possible; from what it now was, dwelling alone, and and that whatever end he may appoint to supporting, without aid, its solitary existence. our labours, he has bestowed upon the ser- She was then like the queen of a garden of vice that is willingly and faithfully per- roses-fairest of the fair; now a lone flower, formed, a blessing which never yet was rearing its head in the midst of the desert, known to fail. with no beauty to reflect its own. " It may be so ordered," she would some- Constantly supplied with all that love and times say to herself, "that I shall see this in- kindness could offer, she had never done teresting woman grow still more useless and anything in her turn to discharge the debt, unhappy. Shall I therefore look up to my but sometimes to raise a laugh, or join a heavenly Father and say,'I behold no fruit song, or play a lively air; she had now no of my labours. I will cease from the task other resources upon which to draw, and which thou hast appointed me?' No! not these were no sooner tried than given up as so long as his glorious sun shines over me, hopeless; for the merry tones of her voice his blessings fall upon my path, and the died away, with no response but the wild strength of his gracious arm supports me!" echoes of a dilapidated mansion; the mournDisappointed in not finding that interest ful songs she had been used to sing brought and excitement which one of the party, at tears into her eyes; and Arnold was unable least, had anticipated in the novelty of travel- to endure the sound of lively music. On one ling, Arnold Percival and his fair bride set- occasion he detected her in tears, and when tled themselves down for a while in an old she complained to him, with her natural 682 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. frankness, that she was not happy, he an- that along with love there went a great deal swered her with bitter lamentations over his of kindness, and trying to please, and that own inability to make her so. sort of thing, that would just find you em"iMy love," said he, " blights wherever it ployment, and keep you alive in this dull falls. I am like the Indian tree, beneath place, and make all things seem quite differwhich the birds that have flown for shelter ent to you." lie dead." Ida, struck with what the woman said, reIda was terrified. —" Let us return to Eng- mained musing for some time after upon the land," said she; and they set off on the possibility of making her present lot more morrow. cheerful. During the reverie, her fingers Arnold had few agreeable associations had been turning over the leaves of her connected with the idea of returning. The album; and when she awoke to a fresh sense world was all alike to him, whether at home of her real situation, she observed that the or abroad. He expected no happy faces to following lines had been recently added to look out for his arrival; and when Bella her collection: Dunhill threw open the park-gate without one enquiring glance into the carriage, he placed, D ~~~Away, away, I heed thee not! placed the rude indifference of this ungrate- Tell me no more thy mournful tale: ful woman to the account of human nature, I have no pity for thy lot, and execrated the whole race with redoubled No ear to listen to thy wail. spleen. Weep not; thy tears are like the rain That falls upon a senseless stone; Ida felt more in her proper element, That falls upon a senseless stone; I may not, will not weep again, although that element was a new one, as the My sighs are hushed, my tears are gone. rightful mistress of the noble dwelling, which Smile on some brow more calm than mine, the good taste of Mrs. Percival and Agnes Press on some fairer cheek thy kiss; had invested with an air of comfort as well I have no joy no blend with thine, as elegance. No love to answer love like this. For Arnold's worthy mother, as the first Touch not the harp; I will not hear kind looking person she had met with for a One tone that tells of former days: Sing to the waves that murmur near; long time, she gave way to a sudden burst Pour on the winds thy charmed lays. of almost childish affection, which Mrs. PerWhere is my heart X Go ask the wind cival, from being unable to comprehend any- That wanders through yon ruined tower thing irrational, mistaking for affectation, did If e'er its piercing search can find not receive so warmly as she otherwise The hearth that blaz'd in festive hour. would have done; and the young heart of No! lost is every trace of mirth, the stranger was chilled again. And hush'd is every festive sound; " Marion," said she one day, after a pas- The very breeze which fann'd that hearth Hath strewn its ashes o'er the ground. sionate burst of tears, addressing a simplehearted domestic, who had accompanied her But still the glorious beams of day from Scotland, and whom, for that reason, Shine brightly on the castle wall On bastion worn, and turret grey, she chose to have usually about her person, The silver streams of moonlight fall. 4" what shall I do for somebody to love me 3" "' Suppose you were to try to love some- Fresh glittering ivy weaves a wreath Of shining beauty round its brow: body yourself," replied the woman. The mouldering ruin stands beneath, " I do love somebody —I love my hus- Unconscious, cold as I am now. band." " I should hardly have thought that." These verses were in Arnold's hand-wri"Why not." ting. "No, no," said Ida, "the case is " Because, if I must be so bold, I thought hopeless;" and she covered her face with lMISANTHROPY. 63 both her hands, and burst into an agony of Ida, which the domestics rejoiced in, as a tears. proof that she was beginning to feel more at Men may drag on existence without an home. But Marion always shook her head object; women hardly can: for they have at their congratulations, and started when the activity of feeling as well as thought to she heard the snatches of wild Scottish keep down. Ida was capable of loving, but songs which her mistress amused herself altogether ignorant of the duties which be- with singing. Arnold alone perceived no long to love, and without which, the tender- change, except what he thought a slight est love of the fairest object is worth noth- improvement in her spirits. He had, howing: for it has so pleased the Disposer of ever, been compelled to see, that often when human affairs, that every connexion by, he left his room, Marion would be hovering which the chain of mortal fellowship is held about as if she sought an opportunity of together, should have its relative duties. speaking with him privately on some subject, Friendship has many-too many for the evidently not of immediate import, or she generality of mankind to fulfil-but love has would have spoken sooner. At last, he was more; and the woman who expects to re- tired of meeting her meaning looks, and tain her husband's affections by merely lov- asked if she wanted to speak with him. ing him, will find herself as much mistaken, After ascertaining that the doors around as if she had calculated upon maintaining them were closed, Marion stepped up so her life by the mere act of breathing. close to his ear, that he thought it best to Light, childish, unsophisticated, the crea- retreat into his private room, in order to ture of impulse, tossed about by every sud- avoid the necessity of a nearer approach. den and varying emotion, it was impossible Here Marion felt at liberty to speak, but libfor Ida to understand the character of Ar- erty seemed to be all that she had gained, nold Percival; and the mystery which to her for no intelligible words for some time passed involved his habits and feelings, rendered her lips. him, in time, an object of vague and unac- " I wanted to know, sir," said she-" if I am countable fear: so that she felt more dis- not making too bold-if-if you have ever-" turbed in his presence, than lonely in his ab- "Go on." sence. With head, heart, and hand equally "I wished to know, sir, if you had observed unoccupied, she, at length, became subject any thing particular about my lady's manner to fits of listless inactivity, which were only lately?" broken in upon by occasional visits of kind- "Your lady's manners are not to be talkness from Mrs. Percival. These visits, ed over by her servants. What do you however, were productive of little gratifica- mean, Marion?" tion on either side; for never, since their "I said manner, if'you please, sir-and first interview, had Ida been herself in the pre- that, as I take it, means something different. sence of her mother-in-law, who, in her turn, But, dear me, sir, you must not be too nice was unable to understand the pretty idle about words now!" And the good woman wife her son had brought with him —appa- wiped her eyes with her apron. rently without any motive, but that of caging " What can you mean, Marion? I believe her in his castle; for his own happiness was your lady is in excellent health, and her evidently not increased; and his frequent spirits have certainly been better lately." absence from her society, and neglect when " Better! do you call it? Oh! sir, it's present, rendered her an object of compas- the nerves. She told me it was all nerves, sion even to strangers. and hysterics, when she used to go on so In this way, the domestic affairs of Hough- strangely in France, while you were out of ton went on, or rather remained, until a the way. I wish we were back again in change was perceptible in the behaviour of Scotland I" and Marion sobbed aloud. 64 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. "Speak your meaning plainly, my good "Dear Lady Forbes, I have received a woman," said Arnold, kindly, " and tell me request from my aunt, which I cannot refuse the worst I" to comply with. I am under the necessity "Well, then, I have great reason to be- of leaving town immediately —let me entreat lieve that my dear young mistress is losing you to say that you will go alcng with me," her senses i" "If my daughter is really ill, I should only "Leave me alone," said Arnold, in an al- add to the trouble of the household. Do you tered tone; and the woman went her way. think there is danger?" " Not of death." "Then why should you urge my going! I can be of no possible service to her." " Still I cannot, will not, leave you. Go with me-for your own sake, if not for the CHAPTER XIV. sake of your child." " But you tell me she is not in danger. It IT was, indeed, as the simple-hearted would be wiser for me to wait until she reMarion had suspected, the reasoning facul- covers her usual health, for our first interties of Ida never having been subjected to the view must unavoidably be a painful and agislightest discipline, had given way, under the tating one." total change which had taken place in her "Lady Forbes, there are other calamities habits and circumstances. It is impossible besides death. You have learned many to say how much the progress of this malady things lately —have you learned how to bear might have been accelerated by constitution- to hear the truth?" al tendency; but certainly nothing could "Speak on." have been more uncongenial to such a "May He who alone can support us in character than the life she had lately led. our utmost need strengthen you for the trial, Arnold had no other resource under this when I tell you that your daughter has lateundeniable affliction, than to shut himself up, ly evinced symptoms of an unsettled state of and brood over the fatality which, as he be- mind, which have greatly alarmed those lieved, attended him through every circum. around her." stance of life; while Mrs. Percival wrote to Lady Forbes arose from the couch on her niece, urging her, if possible, to come which she had been reclining, more like a down immediately. spectre than a living woman, "It was her "What can be the matter?" exclaimed father's malady," said she, in a firm voiceLady Forbes, observing the pale and horror- " Agnes, I will go with you!" struck countenance of Agnes, as she read The shock which Agnes in her heart bethe letter. " Is it of Ida that you learn tid- lieved her friend was capable of bearing, and ings?" the terrified lady continued; for she bearing well, had produced the desired was in constant anticipation of a day of re- effect; but so strange to the character of tribution for her neglect. Lady Forbes was the manner which accom" It is," said Agnes. panied her sudden resolution, that Agnes, "Let me hear the worst. Tell me if my desirous of some protection and support, presdaughter is dead." sed her cousin Walter to accompany them " She is not dead; but now, if ever her mo- in their melancholy journey. Few words ther is called upon to show her sense of the were spoken by the way; and when thecarholy duties which belong to that sacred riage passed through the avenue of elms, name -" Agnes felt as if the weight of present sor" She is ill, then? But you know I can-'ow had almost obliterated the past. not nurse her-it is impossible." "In my own wisdom," said she, " I should MISANTHROPY. 65 have chosen this affliction for any one rather extinguished, now burned with a bright but than Arnold but well is it for us that we uncertain flame-for one moment revealing are not left to choose either fobr ourselves or the clear truth, and then confusing light with others." shadow, until the whole became indistinct "It would be an ungracious office," ob- and unintelligible. served Walter, " to choose afflictions for our As the fair sufferer advanced to greet her fellow-creatures." And he sighed to think unknown guests, Arnold escaped from the how probable it was that Agnes would have apartment, and Walter stepping forward in a chosen for him not only his brother's afflic- kind and cordial manner, introduced himself tion, but his wife. and Agnes, and then endeavoured to engage Mrs. Percival was at the door, waiting to the attention of Ida, by enquiries about the receive the mournful party; and Arnold grounds, the garden, the prospect, or any forced himself to appear immediately after thing he could think of, to divert her obthey had alighted, well knowing that every servation from Lady Forbes, until a more moment of delay and expectation would add suitable opportunity for making known their difficulty to the effort. relationship. It mattered not to him wheThere was no change in his countenance. ther her answers were to or from the purIt was always sad enough for sorrow; and a pose; his object would be gained, if he could stranger would not have known that fresh render her familiar with the presence of her floods had recently been added to the "tide new friends, and confident that they were of his griefs." Lady Forbes, for the first time such. But the countenance of Lady Forbes in her life, forgot herself; at least, she forgot had first struck her attention, and she was all those little personal sufferings and per- not so easily beguiled from the interest which plexities with which she was wont to annoy, suddenly filled her heart. and be annoyed; but her heart was too much " This lady," said she, placing her hand subdued by remorse, to allow her to take within that of her unknown parent-" you any interest in the scenes or circumstances have not introduced. My name is Ida —at around her. least it was when I was happy, and lived in While the company were thus collected, Scotland." pondering individually upon thebest means'"My name is Ida too," answered Lady of acting or remaining inactive, the door Forbes; at which her daughter smiled inwas thrown open, and the object of their in- credulously, and went on. tense solicitude stood before them. She was " I know not who you are, but I hope you dressed with elegance, if not with studied will stay with me, it is so lonely in this care. Her beautiful hair, which she persist- strange place. You seem to be in sorrow," ed in wearing short and unconfined, waving she continued, seeing that the lady's tears in rich profusion over her forehead and tem- fell fast: " I sometimes am in sorrow too; ples; while her eyes, rendered doubly bril- and if you will pity me, I will pity youliant by the unnatural excitement of her surely, that is fair. I used to think, that if mind, flashed and wandered from one object any one cared for me, it was enough; but to another, with a strange and alarming now I am going to care for others, and make scrutiny. A varying hectic flush upon her them happy if I can. Ladies, would you cheek betrayed the feverish state of her flut- like music?" And she began to sing and tering pulse; but there was, beyond this and play a wild Scottish air; but, turning again the flashing eye, little indication of any deep- to Lady Forbes, she asked, in a grave and er cause of interest than arises from the anxious manner, why she wept. " Has any charm of youth and innocence, combined one been unkind to you? or have you been with exquisite loveliness. It seemed as unkind to any one?" though the lamp of reason, instead of being Lady Forbes bowed assent. 66 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. "Then, shall I tell you what is the best was done, so long as he was not required to thing you can do?-Be as kind as you can act, she told him that, with his permission, in future." she would send off for one immediately, as, "I will," said Lady: Forbes; and, with an whatever their doubts might be, they were almost bursting heart, she pressed upon the not justified in neglecting the: only means fair cheek of her.daughter a mother's kiss. that were at their command. Agnes, finding that kind of confidence es- " Do exactly as you think best," said Artablished which, under their present melan- nold:- " do as much, and as quickly as you choly circumstances, was all she had left to can, for I am sure you will do right. Fill desire, walked out to seek a yet more painful my house with doctors, nurses, quacks, and interview with her cousin Arnold, who was old women-employ my servants —spend my wandering alone, scarcely knowing where money —travel with my horses: only spare he went. Forgetting every thing but his re- me, Agnes, for I have already enough to rent griefs, she drew her hand within his bear!" arm, and spoke to him with the freedom and " Oh t that I had been wiser-that I had familiarity of their early days, before any been more attentive to my duty-that I could feelings of a more exclusive nature had recall my early life!?' sighed Lady Forbes, taught them to lay aside the. privileges of as she laid her head upon her pillow: and friendship. Arnold, too, as he sat alone by the light of a " Was it not a happy circumstance," said dim lamp at the hour of midnight, retracing, she, " that we prevailed upon Lady Forbes in imagination, the path of life, to find out to come down with us? She is really an some cruel fatality,-some early deviation, amiable and interesting woman, and I hope for which he might blame his destiny, and will remain with you, and be a comfort to not himself,-went on, and on, until he you." reached the days of early boyhood; and the " She can be no comfort to me, Agnes. fresh flow of childish tenderness seemed to You speak of happiness and comfort, as if rush upon his heart again. "Oh! that I they were words that could find a meaning could return!" he, too, exclaimed. But the in the language of man." difference in these two individuals was, that " I speak of the happiness and comfort that in one case, the remorse attendant upon the are left to us, as we speak of the flowers that past produced that sound, deep, and rational remain after the storm has laid bare the repentance, which operates upon the future; forest." while, in the other, the unwonted occupation "It is for you, Agnes, to gather those of retrospection and self-examination was acflowers: for you they are spared-for you companied by nothing but the agony of they bloom and flourish. It is for me to sit despair. under the leafless boughs, and listen to the " Oh! that I had been wiser," is the nat blast of desolation." ural expression of the soul, when first awak" Have you consulted a physician?" asked ened to a sorrowful conviction of what has Agnes, well knowing the labyrinth into been lost, sacrificed, and suffered, or has still which this figurative mode of speech would to be endured from its own blindness, folly, lead. or perverseness. Arnold replied that he had not. Indeed, " Oh! that I had been wiser," is the exit was the first time he had thought of one. clamation of the merchant, when he has neg" Of wlose skill do you enter-:ain the best lected to insure his property, and the storm opinion?" enquired Agnes. has swept away his possessions; of the husHe had little opinion of the skill of any. bandman, when he has sown in the wrong Agnes had well nigh lost her patience; season, and the floods have deluged his but, knowing that her cousin cared not what fields; of the builder, when he has laid the MISANTHROPY. 67 corner stone upon a sandy foundation, and ness of our remorse, and the emptiness of the edifice begins to shake; of the traveller, our repentance. when he has rejected his guide, and finds Nor is it always permitted us to prove behimself bewildered at the fall of night; of fore mankind, that we have reaped wisdom the mariner, when he has disobeyed the or- from the past. The merchant may not be ders of the pilot, and is wrecked upon an un- always able to send merchandise again upon known shore. Does not the merchant then the sea; the husbandman may have no make haste to insure what is still left? does grain remaining in his garners; the occupanot the husbandman long for the coming of tion of the builder may be taken away; the another spring, that he may scatter his grain traveller may have reached the end of his in due time? does not the builder search journey; and the mariner be disabled for diligently for the rock upon which his totter- future service on the ocean: but the affairs ing edifice may be rebuilt? does not the tra- of human life are so regulated that we canveller bespeak for the coming morrow, a not live a day-seldom an hour-without an guide, from whom he resolves that nothing opportunity of acting, speaking, or thinking, shall separate him. and does not the mari- wisely or unwisely, with a good or evil moner, escaped from shipwreck, submit himself tive, for a purpose which is either right or gratefully to the guidance of the pilot during wrong; and, therefore, none can excuse all his future wanderings on the sea? themselves on the ground that they would It is in the great and paramount cousider- have done better had they been tried again. ation of eternal life that we are satified to So long as we inhhle the breath of existence, lose the prize of our high calling/while ex- we are always in a state of trial. There is pending fruitless lamentations over the irre- no situation so humble, there are no circumvocable past. The past-that unfathomable stances so limited, as to exempt us from the ocean, into which the river 6f time is insen- duty of Christians; and he who takes note sibly gliding. The past- that unsearchable of the sparrow falling to the ground, will abyss from which we vainly endeavour to assuredly not overlook the moral progress or snatch the perishable idols of our hearts' se- declension of an accountable and immortal cret worship. The past-that mysterious spirit. vortex that has swallowed up all we have What would an earthly master think of been, thought, felt, acted, or endured; and the servant who should answer his reproofs from which it is no less impossible to recover with the constant and unavailing cry,' Oh! a fallen kingdom, or a ruined world; than that I had been wiser.' So far as it evinced a faded rose-leaf, or an idle thought. his conviction of past error, the answer might With the awful and irrevocable past, what be well; but that conviction alone would be then can we finite creatures have to do, but of very little value to the master who was to gather wisdom, and perhaps to gather it expecting faithful and important service; with tears? Yet here we sit on the verge and few there are, who would bear with itof the gulf of eternity, brooding in our grief, fewer still, who would try that unprofitable and too often calling that a godly sorrow, servant as we are tried with fresh offers of which worketh no amendment. It is with pardon, mercy, and support, if he would Dut the no less awful present that our business turn again into the path of duty, and walk in lies. Here is our field of action. Here is the way which had been graciously pointed all that is left to us by which we can prove out for his good. the depth and sincerity of our regret. The Under the first pangs of a stricken conwasted moments of the precious future as science, we exclaim, "Oh! that I'had been'hey are incessantly becoming ours, will rise wiser!" but woe unto the undying soul, that like a cloud of witnesses to the courts of Hea- bears along with it no other language to the ven, bearing fearful testimony to the barren- great tribunal on the day of judgment; that 25 |68 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE, has no other plea to lay before the majesty was about to become a candidate for the' ofon high, for the abuse of means that were fice of engineer in a projected work of great abundantly afforded, the perversion of feel- extent, in the immediate neighbourhood of ings that were bestowed for a benefit and a his brother's property; and how his brother blessing to mankind, the misapplication of might assist him, by using his powerful inpowers that were capable of ripening into a terest to obtain for him the desir'ed appointharvest of usefulness, and the neglect of ment, countless opportunities of conviction, repen- "That is the very scheme," replied Artance, and amendment, which infinite wis- nold, that you yourself laid out some years dom had adapted to its imperfect and finite ago." state, and which infinite mercy had continued "It is." to.hold out even when rejected again and "And will you allow others to carry off the again. credit of devising what you seem willing to'Oh! that I had been wiser 1' should be fall in with in a secondary way?" hailed as the first expression of that infant There can surely be little less credit in wisdom which is to be cherished and culti- making a useful discovery to-day, than yesvated for future profit. But let none rest terday. As I never communicated my views here, believing they are to be saved by to these persons, they are as fully entitled to merely uttering this feeble cry. It is true it the approbation of their fellow-creatures as I may be accompanied with tears of unutterable can be. The improvement of the country anguish, with humiliation'that weighs down was their object, as well as mine; and had I the spirit to the lowest depths, with remorse endeavoured to put my plans in execution, I that burns with incessant and unquenchable should doubtless have been stimulated, as fire; but while the wide future remains un- most men are, by motives of private interest. occupied by a single wise resolution, and All I now desire at their hands is, to be althe present is empty of all proof of reforma- lowed to help forward the work as their ention, our tears will be as fruitless in working gineer." out the great end of our being, as the rain- s" There is nothing on earth so disagreeadrops on the flinty rock; our humiliation, as ble as puffing off the abilities of one's own destitute of benefit to ourselves or others, as relations." the scattering of the withered leaves upon "I would thank no man to puff mine, All the autumn floods; and our remorse as -un that I request of you is to rention my name." availing as the moan'of the criminal led out " As a meritorious person, fhlly qualified, for execution. I suppose I" " If to understand the business for which I was educated, and to which I have devoted many years of study and labour be meritorious, you may. Of greater qualifications I CHAPTER XV. do not boast; but were I conscious of less, I would not offer myself. I see, however, that "1 AM sorry to trouble you about any af- you are not disposed to take an active part fairs of my own," said Walter one day to his in the matter. Will you oblige me by a debrother; "but, since it is always pleasant to cided answer, whether you choose to assist have an opportunity of helping a poor man me, or not! " through the world, I think I may venture to Arnold still hesitated f and before he could lay my case before you." arrive at a conclusion, Walter had bid him Arnold made no reply, except by a slight good morning, and ridden off to make a more inclination of the head; and Walter went en stessful application elsewhere. to state, in a business-like mamer, how he By timely thought, plomptnessf and nnre iMISANTHROPY. 69 mitting endeavours, his object was gained, the midst of all, he said, in his heart, " Of and he once more became a happy and wel- laughter it is mad, and of mirth what doeth come resident beneath his mother's roof. it?"' But neither the addition of his cheering so- "' My mother l" were the tender and famiciety, nor any thing else that happened, or liar words with which poor Ida now often could happen, brought any alleviation to the startled her weeping parent. It pleased her gloom and weariness of the misanthrope, childish fancy to utter them, and served as Unfortunately for him, the power of suffering an affecting memento to remind Lady Forbes was not diminished by his incapacity to en- of what she ought to have been, and still joy, With the perceptions of his mind alive might be. Nor was the lamp of reason so only to impressions of pain, he looked round nearly extinguished in the mind of her lovely upon the world as upon a universal desert, charge, but that she could appreciate the where the sun might scorch, and the winds kind offices and faithful duties which her pierce, but where no flower could ever bloom, mother became daily more solicitous to fulfil nor murmuring waters send forth the glad — more happy to perform. Ida had her intidings of refreshment and repose. tervals of reflection, in which her mind, set Not such were the feelings of the mother, free from the petty incumbrances and toils who now watched over the second infancy of of life, seemed to perceive with more than her benighted child. What visitations of wonted acuteness, and to weigh with a truer agonizing remorse were hers, as she looked balance than it had ever done before. She upon her blighted flower, and pressed upon would then speak clearly and decidedly on her bosom the fair cheek that should have questions of importance, as if her feelings earlier known that resting-place. But hers had been awakened to a new moral sense; was a lively grief, which brought along with when suddenly a wild bewilderment of it a quick, animated sense of present things, thought would come, like the confusion of a and intense desires for the future; so that dream over a fair and sunny picture. But her soul knew no repose but in the consola- she was always gentle, harmless, and lovely, tions of prayer. Indeed, where else can any even under her darkest tisitations, gathering soul oppressed with the burdens of humanity wild flowers, and lovi-g sunshine, and sweet repose, but in that humble dependence upon perfumes-pressing her mother to partake in an Almighty Power-that constant reference all her innocent enjoyments —connecting, by of its cares and sorrows to Him who know- some mysterbous chain of feeling, all things eth its infirmities —that unceasing appeal to sweet and oappy with Scotland, and the life infinite mercy for fresh supplies of strength, she had led there; and yet invariably lookand patience, and support, which may not ing sad, and lowering the tone of her voice unfitly be called perpetual prayer? Who, to the deepest melancholy, when she spoke even of these who have lived through of any person, place, or thing she had known what is called a life of enjoyment, can sayj in that beloved land. that they have found replse elsewhere While time passed on in this manner with Gaiety, excitement, nay, even " a wild, deli- the mother and the daughter, the one,' queen rious joy," they may have found: but what of a fantastic realm,' the othier, a weak but are all these, when compared with repose? willing pilgrim, just commencing the career There is no writer who has left upon re- of duty; Arnold Percival resigned himself cord so touching and so true a testimony to completely to the evil influence of indolence the vanity and the weariness of rmere human and melancholy; loving nothing so much as enjoyments, as he who had the means of ob- solitary wanderings far from the busy world taining, and the power of appreciating, be- which he professed to hate. The greater yond what ever before or since has fallen to part of each day he still spent upon the the lot of' man. And yet he tells us, that in oaCan or ging oever its wide expanse from 70 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. a favourite station on the rocky and project- man or woman their good fortune, and yet ing cliff, while at night, he often took a soli- he was not only unable to participate in the tary ramble to whatever spot chance might enjoyment of others, but the mere contempladirect his uncertain steps. It was at the tion of it added fresh bitterness to his secret close of a sombre day- repinings, " Every one can find happiness on earth'When autumn winds were at their evening songs,' but me," he murmured to himself; as he that he walked forth as usual with often re- stood riveted to the same spot, and gazing peated but fruitless efforts to forget himself. on the same scene. " Every one can parLost in deep reverie, he found himself at last take of social endearment; every one can beside his mother's garden. The gate opened draw around some centre of enjoyment but with the pressure of his hand, and with- me. From the loved and the lovely I must out aim or object, he wound his well-known dwell apart, with the cancer of despair in my way amongst the shrubs as if old habits were bosom, and the poisoned arrow of destruction leading him whithersoever they would. In in my heart." a few moments more, he was gazing upon What a wonderful and inexhaustible fund the bright fire blazing in his mother's par- the melancholy mind can draw'upon for malour, through a screen of jessamine not yet terials to build up its own wretchedness! faded, by which he was concealed from the While Arnold Percival was observing from observation of those within. His mother was without the internal movements of his moseated by the fire, with her perpetual knitting ther's establishment, she herself rose up, and in her hand, while her face, lighted up with after ringing the bell, a servant who came in, an expression of lively satisfaction, was unconsciously closed the shutters in the face turned to Walter, who appeared to be read- of the misanthrope, who immediately gave ing aloud from a book which must have been himself up to the absurd idea, that he was vioa favourite with Agnes, for she, too, raised lently shut out from the presence of the happy her eyes so often, and with such deep inte- group. As he turned to retrace his steps, rest, that Walter tould not choose but look the rustling of the withered leaves that lay from his book as ofte, to participate in her scattered in his path, gave notice to his enjoyment. cousin's dog that a strange foot was near, There was nothing in the situation of these and, before he had time to make himself three individuals to make thesa happier than known, he was beset and annoyed by the human beings generally may bk; nor in that loud barking of the watchful animal. of Arnold to render him more wretched than "The very dog," said he to himself, " that most of us at many seasons of our live, have I have seen crouching at her feet with tenbeen; and yet his morbid imagination inmse- derness and love, grows furious at the sight diately transformed the scene within into that of me. He walked on, but thick clouds had of the garden of Eden, and himself into the.-ow overcast the moon; a hollow wind enemy of all happiness, whom the poet has riV4ch had all day been moaning amongst so ably described as unable to look on, with- the here and yellow" leaves, rushed along out the stirrings of the deadliest of human with thegathering darkness, and it was with plS'i ns. difficulty that he reached the nearest cottage Envy is a feeling so odions in itself, with before the barsting of a tempest which so few redeeming accompaniments, that none threatened to cut off his farther progress for will own its baneful influence; although an the night. The place in which he had found impartial investigator might too often detect such timely shelter was a porch, where he its lurking venom, mingled with the cup of had once, on a very different occasion, life. Arnold Percival would have repelled seated himself before; and, had not the with indignation the charge of envying either darkness prevented his making any local ob MISANTHROPY. 71 servations, he would, probably, have risked misanthrope went forth again, m the dark the fury of the raging elements, rather than and lonely night, to trace his way to a home, have remained in safety under the cover of to him more dark and lonely still. On turnthat particular roof. ing to close the gate at the lodge gently, and " It is a fearful night," said an aged without noise, he saw a light in Bella Dunvoice within. "We are better in this low hill's house, which suddenly disappeared, cottage, Mary, than in the high towers of a but not before he had perceived that other castle, when such a storm is howling." persons besides the wonted inhabitants were "It is not all who live in castles, that are up and stirring at that unseasonable hour. either safe or happy," was answered by a His first impulse was to give a thundering female. knock at the door; but, on second thoughts, " I fear not," said the old man, with a deep he determined to tap gently at the shutter. sigh, "I fear not!" The door was quickly unbolted, and Bella "And yet they may be as happy as they herself looked out stealthily, saying, in a sort deserve," observed the woman. " Who that of whisper, "Roger, is it you i." has never loved any one, or been kind to any "It is I," replied Arnold; and, thrusting one, can either expect or deserve happiness back the astonished woman, before she had themselves?" time to prevent his entrance, he stood in the "Mary, we judge blindly, when we judge midst of a gang of desperate poachers, who one another. It is wiser and more profit- had long made her house their place of seable to look into our own hearts, to read the cret rendezvous. words of eternal life, and to pray." And so Arnold was a stranger to the sensation of saying, he commenced his evening service, fear; and when he had stimulus enough to and after reading aloud a chapter of the act upon, he could act with firmness and bible with more solemnity than fluency, he judgment. He had no weapons to defend poured forth the genuine feelings of his soul himself, nor was any violence offered-not in a simple but affecting prayer. He had even when he snatched a blazing brand from never, since an important event in his life the half-extinguished fire, and held it to the had first placed him in a situation of serious faces of the men, as they rushed past him to trust, omitted morning and evening to offer effect their escape. By this means he recogup a petition for the welfare and right guid- nized many of his own labourers and deance of his young master, and he performed pendents, and observed that Bella Dunhill, his holy duty as faithfully, as tenderly, and immediately on his entrance had laid her with as much fervent zeal, now that that un- hand upon a loaded pistol, which she grateful master had suspected, wronged, and grasped with such a fierce and threatening finally dismissed him from his service. look, that he scrupled not to select her from " And this man can pray for me!" said the number of her faithless friends, who had Arnold, as he leaned his head against the one andall desertedher to her fate, as a fitting cold, stony wall, and closed his eyes upon example to those who might be disposed to every thing but the remembrance of his tempt his future vengeance. early years, and those bright visions of de- The stimulus of this scene, with the prompt parted innocence which memory sometimes and active exertion it had called forth, made conjures up, making fresh tears burst forth the misanthrope for a short time forget himfrom eyes that have almost forgotten how to self; and could he have drawn rational deweep, and quickening the fainting soul with ductions from what he had seen, heard, renewed agony, but not with renovated.and felt, that night, he might thenceforth life. have been " a wiser and a better man." He The simple inhabitants of the cottage re- might have learned, from the scene in his tired to rest; the storm passed over, and the mother's parlour, that there is such a thing 72 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. as enjoyment, even upon earth: he might was gradually becoming an altered charachave learned from the prayer of the dis- ter-that the melancholy situation of her carded servant, that whatever human nature daughter, by rousing her dormant energies, may be in its perverted state, there is a and exciting a deep interest in her feelings, power that can subdue, temper, and refine had combined, with causes of a higher naits faculties, until they.are capable of all that ture, to produce that change for which she we admire as generous and noble: he might herself had so ardently laboured, watched, have learned, from the conduct of the un- and prayed-she now deemed it as unnecesgrateful woman whom he had befriended, sary as unwise to obtrude her services more that none can be worthy of respect or con- than for the common purposes of kindness fidence who are insensible to the kindly feel- and civility, which enhance the enjoyment ings which a Divine Being has bestowed as of social life. With Arnold she was now a blessing upon his creatures, or averse to perfectly at ease; at least, as much so as her the principles which He has laid down for naturally affectionate heart could be while their especial benefit: and, finally, from the contemplating his perverted feelings, and effect of his own exertions, he might have gradually deteriorating character;-deteriolearned, that man is only in a natural and rating, because it is the inevitable consehealthy condition when using the powers with quence of every fault, as well as every vice, which he has been gifted, and that, in order long and inveterately indulged in, to spread to add happiness to health, he must use its baneful influence over other faculties of them for the purposes which are most in the mind, just as a poisonous weed, at first unison with the Divine will. too insignificant to mar the beauty of the To him whose mind is accustomed to ob- garden, will, in time, extend itself, so as to serve, contemplate and adore, what lessons prevent the growth of either flowers or fruit. of instruction may be gathered from the past: Agnes, after having once learned to conto him whose feelings are tuned to the melo- sider her cousin Arnold as the husband of dy of nature, what harmonious music is in another, never afterwards entertained an idea the wide universe around! What faith may that could have interfered, in the remotest be built upon the often-repeated instances manner, with that sacred connexion. She which memory recalls, in which the heart, had no wandering and undisciplined thoughts panting after some ideal good, has been mer- to startle her with their impropriety, nor cifully spared the anguish of possessing- morbid feelings with which to brood over the what hope from the visitations of unexpected past, until the present should become irksome light which have broken in upon our dark- and intolerable: he was now her cousin Arness-what charity from the many wrong nold, and no more; and she could read his calculations, false steps, and fatal deviations, countenance, and listen to his voice, with as which we ourselves have made! much composure as to that of any other person. With a mind so tempered, she refused not still to be the occasional companion of his walks, his rides, even to the very cliff and CHAPTER XVI. the sea shore, where they had wandered in other days, nor was there anything in his AGNES FORESTER was now less constant manner to awake the scruples of the most in her attendance upon her friends at the delicate mind. It is probable that, in the castle, although Istill ready to offer her ser- general desolation of his heart, the warmest vices whenever and in whatever way they and tenderest sentiment he had ever entermight be required; yet, having seen with tained, had been chilled, and withered, and unspeakable satisfaction, that Lady Forbes finally had perished under the universal MISANTHROPY. 73 blight; but over some characters, habit is phers may dispute the question, whether we more powerful than impulse' and we often inherit or acquire our mental faculties? continue to serve, and suffer from those we whether they are developed in prominences love, long after the life of our affection has upon the skull, or exist only in operations of been extinguished. In this manner, Arnold mind apart from matter? I am no philosowas accustomed to bear with Agnes when pher, and, therefore, I leave these difficult she thought it right to remark upon his con- points to those who feel better qualified to duct, as he would have borne with no one unravel the mystery of our being, not withelse; and she seldom failed to thank him out fervent desires after that state of exisboth by words and looks for the kind forbear- tence, where, I trust, we shall be better preance he had shown her. pared to receive and understand the truth. "There is nothing," said she, one day, du- "Looking at human nature through the ring a long ramble by the sea-shore, " which medium of my own dull senses, and I would I dislike so much, as the mere act of finding humbly hope with the assistance of some betfault, when accompanied by that peevish and ter light, I am disposed to think, that the tenuncharitable spirit which too often prompts dency of which you speak, whether originaus to say to those who are smarting under ting in bodily conformation, or early bias of the consequences of their own folly or mis- the mind, has been appointed by Providence conduct,'You should not have acted thus, as your especial temptation or means of disyou knew what it would lead to-it is all cipline; the difficulty to which you may find your own fault.' But it sometimes becomes countless promises to apply,- the enemy necessary, that we should retrace the errors against which you are to arm yourself with both of ourselves and others, in order that the weapons of Christian warfare. Few we may not fall into the presumptuous ab- persons, I believe, have arrived at the consurdity of self-exculpation, nor charge God clusion of even a well-spent life, without befoolishly." ing able to confess that their course has been "Reason as you like, Agnes," replied the beset by one evil propensity above all others. misanthrope, " you never will convince me Misanthropy has been yours, arising out of that the cup of life has not been prepared what you call constitutional melancholy; and for me with peculiar and especial bitter- until you can prove that you have made sysness." tematical resistance against it, by persever" Think, for one moment, Arnold, of what ance, patience, and prayer, I can never join you are saying. You are accusing the with you in thinking, that you have been Almighty of injustice and malevolence." harshly dealt with, or that God has not been " I presume not to penetrate into the de- merciful to you as well as to the rest of his signs of Providence, nor to say, even if my creatures." existence should be overshadowed with ten- " And yet, when I recall my past life, I see fold gloom, that such a destiny would be in- nothing but a series of disappointments atconsistent with that wisdom which I am not tendant upon all I have ever hoped or deable to comprehend." sired. From the brotherhood of man, I se"But your feelings belie your words, and lected one friend-and one only — " while you feel that divine mercy is not united "For what did you select him? —Not for with divine wisdom, you cannot love your his noble independent character, but for his Heavenly Father as you ought." servile pretence to sentiments and feelings "Was I not born with a constitutional ten- like your own. You might persuade yourdency to sadness " self, that this apparent resemblance was sym"Precisely in the same way as a thief may pathy, that connecting chain of kindred intersay, that he is born wif h a cotistitutional ten- ests and associations; but, he who finds his dency to take what is not his own. Philoso- friend resemble him only in the worst parts 74 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. of his own character, may certainly suspect own, that I should suppose it almost imposthat he has made a wrong choice, and with sible for any circumstance to occur in which nothing more substantial to calculate upon, you would think or feel together." may certainly anticipate deception and final 1" And yet you, who were the monitress of disappointment. With regard to your mis- my early years, never gave me one word of placed charity and kindness, the same argu- warning, when you saw me risking the hapments would very justly apply, and I regret piness of my whole life upon one fatal cast!" that you should not have made the experi- " Arnold, you cannot surely need to be rement elsewhere." minded how ineffectual my warnings hitherto "Agnes, you are a cool reasoner, and a had been, and how impracticable I had ever strict judge. What have you to say to that found it, even in the most trivial instances, to melancholy circumstance which has sealed change your ill-chosen mode of thinking and my doom, and made me for life the most acting. Besides, so distant as I then wasmiserable of men?" so ignorant of' the circumstances by which "My dear cousin, I would not willingly you were influenced —what right had I to inspeak on this subject, but in words of the terfere? I was astonished, it is true; yet I deepest tenderness and sympathy; yet since knew not then how rashly you were acting. we have entered upon it in the spirit of im- But let us leave the past, dear Arnold, to be partial discussion, and since there is no alter- visited only when we are disposed to doubt native but to throw the blame either upon the good providence of' God, and would say, you as an accountable being, or upon that in the presumption of our hearts,'I have not which you call destiny, but which must merited this stroke.'" eventually be referred to the Author of our "Then, upon what subject, may I ask, being; I scruple not to say, that in contract- would you please to expatiate, with such a ing this alliance, you were guilty of the companion by your side? Tell me what the greatest imprudence of your life. Far be it future has in store for me! Look at my from me to touch with too much freedom a household gods, and say if they rule not with character whose every feature has now be- the sceptre of destruction?" come sacred to us through suffering. I have Agnes was, indeed, at a loss: whether she never met with any one more lovely, seldom stretched her prophetic view over the future, with one more calculated to inspire affection; or looked with more scrutinizing eye upon but look into your own heart, and ask what the present. To the gloomy and determined sympathy could possibly exist between two misanthrope the one was as barren in prosbeinfgs so differently constituted, or how it pect as the other was sterile, cold, and unwas possible that you could minister to each fruitful in possession. other's happiness? " You make me no reply," said Arnold — "Marriage, like all other social engage- " you do well to be silent. You have known ments, is not merely an appropriation to our- me too long to mock my ear with the words selves of what we desire to possess. It is a of consolation." mutual compact, in which much must be con- "I have, indeed, lost the power to _ight tributed on both sides to render it productive again the little beacon of hope which you of real satisfaction. It is not my wish to lift have so often extinguished-and, with that the veil which is very properly drawn over power, the presumptuous thought that I the secrets of domestic life, nor to pronounce might, in some way, assist to pilot ycu upon what might have been conceded, palli- through the storms of life: but remember, ated, or reconciled; the grand error was in that the beacon fire which is lighted by a huthe first determination you made to unite man hand is, at best but an emanation from yourself to one whose disposition, tastes, and the fountain of eternal light, which no temhabits, were so totally different from your pest of this nether world is able to extinguish, MISANTHROPY. 75 and which may shine upon the bosom of the often say, when Agnes remonstrated with stormy ocean, or the brink of the quiet grave her upon her too constant and unremitting -that the warning voice of man is but like attention. "Time is fleeting, and silvery the cry of the shipwrecked seaman amongst hairs are warning me that I have not much the rocks and shoals, while the arm of Om- to lose. Spare me not, Agnes, for I would nipotence is able to roll back the fury of not spare myself. I know that nothingI can the foaming waves, to stay the lightning, and now do will obliterate the past; but when I hush the pealing thunder, and lead forth the reflect upon the mercy and forbearance of a despairing seaman into the harbour of ever- Divine Providence, who bore with my selfish lasting rest!" idolatry so long, and at last set before me a higher duty and a better hope, I am not willing that one hour should pass by in which I Years passed on, and the misanthrope re- may be found to have forgotten the mighty mained unchanged, except that a deeper debt I owe. You yourself have taught me gloom was added to his despondency-a-a that we are unable to purchaseheaven by our more intolerable sense of wretchedness to good actions; but all the efforts of the longhis despair. As the fresh glow of early'life est life to obey the Divine will are due from subsided, one kindly feeling after another us, in gratitude for the countless mercies we ceased to warm his heart, until the last and have received. Of my life, one half, at least longest cherished, the pleasure he had ever has been wasted: you, who have ever been found in the companionship of his best friend, my best monitor, should not hinder me in was gone for ever. laying my offering of autumn fruits upon the Agnes had become the happy wife of altar." Walter PercivaL, whose active and energetic "You will not take my mother away," character was well calculated to assist and said Ida, pressing the hand of Lady Forbes forward all his plans of usefulness. Togeth- upon her burning brow; "no earthly power er they supported the declining health of a should separate a mother from her child. devoted mother, whose unfailing cheerful- This was one of the lucid intervals in ness fully repaid their assiduity and care: which the poor sufferer enjoyed the luxury together they visited the fatherless and the of weeping; and her tears fell thick and widow in their affliction, watching over the fast, as she told, in broken accents, how her feeble, comforting the forlorn, and directing young heart had often pined for a mother's the blind and erring wanderer how to obtain love. an entrance into the strait and narrow "They were kind to me in Scotland," she way: and having lived for others more than continued-" kind to soothe, and flatter, and for themselves, they were permitted to par- caress me-but a mother might have been take together of that cup of earthly enjoy- kinder still: she might have told me when I ment which never was, and never will be, did wrong, and I should not have resented held out to those who would snatch it with it from her. No! no! we will not be separaunhallowed hands-who would demand, as ted-we will live together, and I will try to be a right, what is only granted as a boon- less selfish than I have been. My own dear who would stand unbidden at the marriage mother! my best friend! what can I do now feast-who would ask for the ten talents, to serve you?" after having lost the one. " You shall sing to us, Ida." Years passed on, and Lady Forbes was "I will sing to you a hymn that Kenneth still faithful to her trust, watching, with ma- Frazer taught me-yet not a hymn exactly, ternal solicitude over the mental darkness of but something that calls back my better her benighted child. thoughts, when I am forgetting to be grate"I have much to atone for," she would ful." 76 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. The spring flowers know their time to bloom; The sun his chariot wheels to roll The summer dews to fall; Toward the golden west; The stormy winds to rise and come The tides to flow from pole to pole; At winter's ilreary call; The foaming waves to rest. The nightingale knows when to sing Thus wide creation owns a power Her midnight melody: Supreme o'er earth and seas, The stranger bird to stretch her wing That portions out some fitting hour Far o'er the distant sea. For all his will decrees. The silent stars know when to raise Then while of nature's works the prime Their shining lights on high; Man boasts his nobler call, The moon to shed her silver rays Shall he, ungrateful, own no time From out the azure sky; To thank the Lord of all I THE PAINS OF PLEASING. Defend me, therefore, common sense-say I, From reveries so airy, from the toil Of dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing old in drawing nothing up! CowPER. CHAPTER I. small parlour, wide enough for them to enter. "Do you think the good lady of this house "Nothing but old women," thought the will ask us to sit down, Charlotte?" damsels, as they observed the figure of a " I think she ought," was the reply, as two person little inferior in years to their silent fair damsels took their stand upon the clean conductress, seated by the fire. There was stone step of a plain brick dwelling. nothing peculiar in her dress or countenance, They had been engaged the whole morn- and when she begged them to be seated, it mg in collecting subscriptions for the Bible was as much with the indifference of one Society, and had not yet found their reward. who has grown familiar with the world in its Amongst the inhabitants of the small coun- most ordinary character, as one who has actry town in which their circuit lay, some had quired the ease and complacency of fashionregarded them with suspicion, some had at- able life. She was, however, too well bred tacked them with reproaches, and few had to ask her visitors the purpose of their comoffered them a seat; until, wearied with ing; and after a few common-place remarks, their task, they determined to take advan- they sat and whispered together, or rather tage of the first tolerable-looking mansion talked over, in an under tone, the advenfor that rest which even virtuous exertions tures of the morning, as if no one had been require. present. "This long delay promises but a cold "What had we best do with the money welcome," said one of the young ladies, as from Mary Staines?" asked one. the slow movements of slippered feet were "Give it to the treasurer at once," was heard along the passage. the reply. With much apparent difficulty the key "I think not. It would certainly be more was turned, and the door being partially just; but don't you think it would offend opened by a wrinkled hand, an old woman, dear Mr. Drawnover. whose years might have entitled her to a "Mr. Drawnover has nothing to do with place of rest in this world, at least, but who it, that I know of; and yet it might be danwas evidently still tortured with household gerous to displease him, he seems disposed anxieties, stood before them, as if to impede to be so liberal." their entrance. Difficulties seemed to increase around " Does Mrs. Irvine live here?" asked one these sapient agents of reformation; and so of the ladies. warm were theyin the contest between justice The woman made no repPy; but turning and the liberal Mr. Drawnover, as not to nodeliberately round, opened the door of a tice the change which had taken place in 78 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. the whole aspect of the old lady, their sole riness or pain. I had friends-I had fortune auditor; until, arriving at the crisis of their -I had all that renders life desirable, and dispute, one of them positively asserted that have been assailed by few of its most trying her plan would be the most equitable. The calamities; yet has disappointment been my old woman then rose from her chair, and, daily portion, and sorrow the companion of fixing a keen look upon the other, laid her imy path. Tears more than time have worn withered hand upon her arm, and exclaimed, these furrows on my cheek-I am not so old' And can you hesitate?" as I am wretched!" An electric shock would scarcely have oc- A long pause ensued, during which the casioned greater convulsions in the form of sufferer appeared to be struggling with some the fair disputant. mental agony. Restless, but silent, she sat " Listen to me!" continued the ancient with both her hands pressed violently upon dame, drawing her youthful companion to her forehead, and her head bent forward as the window. "Behold yon sun, the great if beneath the weight of severe affliction. It source of light and life! Were he to consult seemed as though the floodgates of memory the inclinations of man, where, think you, were thrown open, and the deluge that would- he shine? When the city dame poured in brought nothing along with it but walked forth, she would beg that the splenwalked forth, she would beg that the spl, en- "Wrecks, and the salt surf weeds of bitterness." dour of his beams might be turned away, in mercy to her lily skin; while, at the same It was strange to behold one who had so time, the husbandman would implore the nearly finished her course-one who had apblessing of his rays, to ripen the harvest of proached the confines of eternity-thus agihis hope; and the sportsman would curse tated by the recollection of former years. It his mid-day heat; while the prayer of the was not, however, with fruitless effort that aged and infirm would arise from the abodes she endeavoured to regain her former comof wretchedness, that some portion of his posure. She cleared her voice, and smoothed warmth and brightness might illuminate their her forehead, and, rising from the posture of humble dwellings: but yon glorious lumi- humiliation, in a calm and collected manner nary, drawn by the hand of mercy, and di- resumed the thread of her discourse. rected by the councils of wisdom, goes on " I said that I had spent a long life in the his heavenly way undeviating, giving beauty service of my fellow-creatures. Well might and gladness to the earth-to the industri- I quote the memorable words of the dying ous labourer, the morning light-to the Cardinal, and say,' That had I served my flowers and fruits, the mid-day heat-to the God half as sincerely as I have served my worn and the weary, the calm of evening- friends, He would not have left me thus.' and to the wide realm of nature the repose I said that I had served my fellow-creatures; 6f night' but what was my motive? If kind offices, "You woncer at my earnestness and and willing gifts, and charity, and good will warmth. Look upon me; and if your youth- -if patient suffering, and unmurmuring subful eyes shrink not from a sight so abject, mission, may entitle me to the name of Chriscontemplate the being before you. I have tian, I, indeed, have been a follower of Christ. spent a long life in the service of my fellow- But, let me ask again, what was my motive? creatures, adapting myself to their various With kind services I sought to purchase moods and temperaments,labouring to make friends, amongst whom I might live, the myself beloved-and my reward has been a centre of a charmed circle-friends, whose lonely and desolate old age. Not one of all partial love might screen my faults and foithose to whose happiness or amusement I bles, even from my own observation; with have contributed would now seek me in this gifts I conciliated those whom my humour lowly habitation, to soothe my hours of wea- sometimes offended; with charity I bought THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 79 the poor, that my step might be welcome in applause of fickle friends, have passed away the cottage of the needy, and my counte- from my remembrance with the worthless nance hailed as the harbinger of joy. To stimulus by which they were excited. every creature in the universe my heart na- "Alas! my young friends, it is on.y that turally overflowed with benevolence. I was heaven-born benevolence, which regards all patient, too, by nature, and never hesitated human creatures as the children of one Unito suffer in the cause of another, when cer- versal Father, that can prompt us to true tain that suffering would be known and ap- Christian charity and love. It is only by preciated. To submit, without resistance, first desiring to serve God, that we can ever was a part of my creed —and verily, I had effectually serve mankind. my reward; for all that I did and endured " But I detain you, and the hour is late. (and truly there was enough of both) was Come to me to-morrow evening, if you are without any reference to a higher object than at leisure, and have no more agreeable emthat of making myself beloved: and I am ployment, and you shall listen to the story of the more willing to lay my own errors before an old woman." the world, because the character at which I aimed is one that too frequently passes under the designation of amiable, and, as such, is held up to admiration, while concealing, beneath a cloak of loveliness, a selfish and ig- CHAPTER II. noble mind. " Should either of my fair friends be run- FAITHFUL to the appointed hour, on the folning heedlessly upon the shoals where I lowing day the two youngladies seated themhave suffered shipwreck, it may be worth selves at the fireside of their venerable friend, her while to listen for a few hours to the de- who commenced her simple narrative withtail of circumstances tending to the develope- out farther introduction. ment of those feelings which have made me what I am-feelings, which have been a constant source of disappointment and humil- I was born to that station in life which iation for threescore years-feelings, which entitled me to all the indulgences and advanstill pursue me to the brink of the grave, and tages that a reasonable mind could desire. occupy that place in my heart where higher My mother died early, and my father, being thoughts should reign supreme. fully engaged with the business of a bank, in "Raise not your expectations to the which he was an active partner, an older sister heights of romantic interest: mine has been and myself were sent, during the usual term the common lot of mortals-my character of education, to afashionable boarding-school, unmarked by any extraordinary traits. The and afterwards left to the uncontrouled fornarrative to which I call your attention is mation of our own tastes, and the regulation that of a mis-spent, but, in great measure, an of our own conduct. For my sister this was inoffensive life, displaying none of the ex- all sufficient, as her regular, methodical, and tremes of vice or virtue, good fortune or even temperament secured her against any calamity. Perhaps, were I inclined to look temptation to deviate from the customs most with partial eye upon the past, I might be approved in society. At first, I thought that able to recount no trifling number of actions her immoveable stability of character arose commendable in themselves, and which, had solely from apathy of feeling; but I learned they originated in a love of God, and devoted- in time, to respect the substantial reasons she ness to his service, might have been held as was able to give for everything she did; and memorials in my favour, but which, having after experience taught me that she had all nothing for their object, save the transient along been acting upon principle. She had 80 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. not, it is true, the most conciliating manners my faculties being always awake and watchto those around her; and often, when I would ful, it was surprising how soon I was able to gladly have made her my guide and support, throw in my well-timed observations upon I fancied myself driven away from her con- the common topics of conversation. This, fidence and affection, Still she was so ex- however, was not so much my field of triemplary in her daily walk and conversation, umph as the cultivation of private intimacies; that she was exactly fitted to be held up as for, I may say for myself, that I had naturalan example to others, and, in this way, was ly a kind and affectionate heart, and that the often forced upon my notice in the most inju- sympathy and interest which I so fluently dicious manner, along with reproaches liber- expressed, was real. Nor was it less sincere ally bestowed upon myself. than unbounded, fobr in my varied experience, Thus is the baneful poison of envy not un- I imbibed no prejudice, but could feel for all frequently administered to the infant mind- -the high and the low, the wise and the fatal to happiness, and destructive to every weak, the good and the evil. kindly feeling. Thus I inwardly resolved, On first turning my attention to religion, I that if I could not be so much respected as was much surprised, that the blessed hope my sister, I would be more beloved: nor was held forth to all mankind on equal terms, inI long in accomplishing my purpose, for steadof being a bond of holy fellowship and alas! it is not merit alone that ensures the love, should so often, under false pretences, attachment of our fellow-creatures. be made the root of envy, malice, and all unNaturally quick sighted and versatile, I charitableness! Of this, I had ample opporfirst made observations upon the tastes and tunity of making frequent and mournful obprejudices of those around me, and then, as servations, for the circle of my acquaintance I felt my way, fell in with their peculiar sen- included sectarians of almost every descriptiments, until I often found that I had really tion, who seriously and earnestly warned me adopted what I had intended only tacitly to against the danger of each other's society. assume. I was not, certainly, daring enough " There must," thought I, " be something openly to assert my acquiescence in that strange in that institution, whose members which I did not believe; but, there are many disagree amongst themselves;" and I had ways of appearing to agree with those who one friend, who ventured to insinuate, that converse with us, without directly telling a the fault was in religion itself, and not in the falsehood, misconceptions which man had formed of it; No sooner were my sister and myself of the mingling of his own pride, passion, and age to be introduced, than having the repu- prejudice, with its holy injunctions, and the tation of for.ane and some beauty, our house resistance of his rebellious heart to the overwas thronged with visitors. For our coun- ruling influence of a merciful and gracious tenance and protection under these novel Providence. circumstances my father had arranged with Amongst my intimate and confidential a widowed sister, Mrs. Morris, who had long friends, I could claim a methodist, a quaker, been struggling to maintain her daughter a unitarian, and a calvinist; all characters and herself upon the scanty remnant of a whom I esteemed superior to myself, and well clergyman's stipend, and they came accord- calculated to instruct my mind, and direct ingly to live neat us, not a little gratified by my judgment. With each of these, I enthe opportunity of partaking in the amuse- deavoured to make my creed agree as nearment of our parties. ly as possible. I attended their places of At first, I advanced warily upon the slip- worship, read their books, and listened to pery and adventuirous path I had chosen, for their arguments, invariably arriving at the I had much to learn, without which it was final conviction, that a great deal might be impossible to make successful advances; but said for all. But though I was satisfied THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 81 with this conclusion, my friends were not, mind' unwarped by prejudice, and open to With the most sweeping condemnation they conviction, I could not, I thought, be deviatattacked all doctrines but their own, and some ing very far from the right path; and must of the most unsatisfactory moments of my in time gather wisdom. As if nothing more life were spent in listening to the abuses and was required to constitute my claim to etersarcasms which these professors of Chris- nal happiness. Surely the simple question tianity levelled against each other, But why Jesus Christ was sent into the world, more distressing still to me, were the less might have roused me from this dangerous obtrusive lamentations expressed in amilder dream of slothful security, But the " aim sp rit with which they would sometimes be- of my existence" was not here —Christ was moan the errors of those who looked upon the not the master whom I had chosen; the great truths of religion with views and feel- world was the tyrant who ruled my life, and ings different from their own. To those who the hardness of his yoke, and the weight of spoke thus mildly, I was disposed to give his burden, I had hardly yet begun to feel. more heed, and used on such occasions to re- Sometimes, it is true, I thought it would tire to my own chamber, with a heart tor- be more noble boldly to assert the indepentured by accumulating doubts and apprehen- dence of mind; and I had myself some fasions. vourite notions, which I more than once "If," thought I, " it is impossible that any stood forth to defend; but such ebullitions creed but one can save us, it is high time for of feeling seemed to make me enemies, and me to settle my own faith," and in order to I found it would not do. do this without partiality or bias, I read the I recollect one evening in particular, when scriptures with my separate friends, listening the conviction of the smallness of the part I attentively to their different interpretations was acting forced itself upon me with mortiof particular passages, until my brain was fying truth. At the house of a gentleman, nearly turned, and my spirits were more op- who took an active part in all popular afpressed than before. Oh l if I had but sim- fairs, a large party had been collected, preplified my views-if I had but dared to vious to an evening lecture on the subject shake off the bondage of the world, and of slavery. It was my fate to be seated belooked for instruction to Him who is able to side a very handsome gentleman, just reteach as never man taught,-I might now in turned from the West Indies, who was insinmy old age have opened the bible as a book uating his plausible arguments, wherever of consolation, with feelings undisturbed by he Could find a sufficient want of good sense the conflicting opinions of man, which still and good feeling to make i-om for their attach to every page upon which I cast admittance, Seeing he was likely to be the my eye, as memory recalls the various trans- star of the evening, I accommodated my lations, constructions, and arguments, that lens accordingly, to receive the beams of were forced upon my attention along with this western luminary. I was a good lismy first searching of the scriptures of tener than which a greater recommendation truth. cannot well be found to the general suffrage Finding it impossible to reconcile my own of society; for since by far the greater part ideas of religion to the various and contend- of mankind (to say nothing of woman) are ing opinions of others, I secretly resolved to better pleased to talk than be silent, one-half, leave this great and weighty consideration at least, in ill companies must remain dumb to a later period of my life, when my judg- and disappointed. I had, I believe, an attenment would be more mattred; and while tire, interested look, that made many an uncarefully observing the line of right and fortunate proser, who had worn out his audiwrong in my moral conductj hearing all the ence until one after another had gone off to arguments of all parties, and keeping my join the general buzz, tirn to me, with his $82 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE unfinished history of himself or his doings threat than a real infliction, and, I scruple still quivering on his lips: and let none not to say, has been more heard of in Engplume themselves upon the quality of' pa- land than in the country where it is said tience, unless they can say, like me, that on to resound with such frightful severity." such occasions they have invariably heard "But the separation of near connexions, the story out. and the breaking up of families!" said a In the present instance, I had nothing to fair bride. do but to ask a few grave questions on the With a smile worthy the demon of Faust, subject of slavery, as if I really wanted to the handsome gentleman replied by ill-timed be informed by a judicious, impartial, and sarcasms upon the exaggerated happiness enlightened observer, before I made up my of domestic life, questioning whether many mighty mind; and a pair of brilliant eyes were a wise man would not rather be well rid of beaming upon me, and before the whole as- his Zantippe, than doomed to the discord of sembly I was seen to be engaged in earn- her temper through life. est conversation with the gentleman from This remark was ill suited to the taste of the West Indies. He spoke so long and English ladies; and I was amongst a very loud, and looked so animated and hand- small minority who laughed, and seemed to some, that other listeners joined our circle of think the joke a good one. interest, which at last extended itself so as " There is one question," said my sister, to include all the party except one; and with earnest gravity, "which I have always other pretty ladies besides myself peeped thought sufficient to quiet the idle speculafrom beneath their shining ringlets, and tions of those who are not compelled to reasked if it was really true that the slaves gard the subject in a political point of view were so well dressed, and did not actually -Is slavery compatible with the principles feed on odious beans? of Christianity?" "True, beyond all doubt," replied the Here the gentleman forgot himself again, gentleman, " that they are often dressed in and asked, with a look of derision, whether a manner that would excite the envy of Christianity was ever intended for a class of many a poor English girl. Could one of beings acknowledged to be but one step above your peasants behold the active, healthy- the brutes?-at which, the minority became looking men and women, whose labour may smaller, and even I scarcely ventured a look well be called play, when compared with of approbation. that of your population of' paupers; could The pause which followed allowed my sishe behold X,1em seated through the sultry ter time to speak again, which she did with hours of the day under the shade of magnifi- a degree of warmth and indignation startling cent trees, whose Indian foliage spreads a almost to herself. cool shadow on the verdant earth, there en- " For those who have to governf the state," joying their plentiful repast of wholesome said she, " it may be essential to the present rice, flavoured with delicious vegetables; condition of man, tljat a portion of apparent could he behold them returning to their ha- evil should be mixed with good, in order to bitations, where hunger and poverty are force into operation those wholesome regunever permi ted to threaten their security, lations which are designed to correct old he would rather petition that he and his abuses and long-established errors-in the family might share the fate of the negro, same way that medicines of poisonous quality than that the negro should be exposed to are sometimes administered to the sick, bethat penury under which he is groaning.", fore the constitution can be fitted for natural " But the cart-whip!" sighed a gentle food: but, when those whose sphere of aclady. tion is within the limits of social and domes" The whip, my dear madam, is more a tic life can listen with pleasure to sarcasms THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 83 levelled against the institutions which secure CHAPTER III. to them the possession of all they most value or enjoy, we may safely conclude, that "How very much I should like to ascend in the ladies of England are not yet sufficient- a balloon l" said one amongst a group of ly enlightened' and therefore I propose, as young ladies who sat around my father's fire. the evening is far advanced, that we should Her courage being called in question, we apprepare to listen to sounder reasoning, and pealed to each other on the score of indiviarguments more fitted for a Christian com- dual daring, until, as the enthusiasm spread, munity' we one and all declared that, if ever the With this the company rose, and a gentle- temptation should be offered us, we would man who had sat apart from the rest atten- mount without a shadow of hesitation. tively turning over a bundle of papers which I was then a young and credulous lookerhe held in his hand, walked across the room, on upon the ways of the world, and did not and, offering his arm to my sister, said, with know how very little the idle bravado of a a look of benignity, "I am happy to have private circle has to do with the real busifound a sister-spirit in a strange land." ness of life. My cousin, Jane Morris, a strict I now found he was the lecturer; and, judge of the conduct of others (whatever she when the West Indian paid the same com- might be of her own,) was amongst the pliment to me, I held down my head with number; and, when her earnest protestavery shame and vexation, at being thus tions joined the rest, I thought the experiidentified with what I believed in my heart ment must surely be worth trying. was the -wrong cause. About twelve months after this, I was "Who is that dogmatical young lady " visiting in a distant county, when a celeasked my companion, with a scowling brow. brated aeronaut announced his intention of I could not, dared not say she was my sis- ascending from that privileged spot. He ter, but, drawing my shawl around me, com- was known to the family with whom I was plained loudly of the evening air, as if I had then a guest, and spent the day preceding not heard his question. his exploit with us. Ever too ready to catch Before the lecture concluded, I was more the tone and manners of those by whom I ashamed than ever of my new friend. He was surrounded, I looked upon this person had come for the express purpose of dis- as nothing less than a hero; and, when he turbing the meeting; and, after the ridicu- spoke of happier men who were honoured lous bombast of every attack upon the pa- with the company of ladies in their aerial adtient and dignified speaker, he directed his ventures, I turned to him and asked whether triumphant eyes to me with such pointed he had not a friend or sister courageous certainty of applause, that I would gladly enough to share his dangers. have exchanged my conspicuous situation "No," said he, with a sigh, " I am alone in with that of the lowest door-keeper in the the world." apartment. Unmoved by these repeated There was something in his look and the vociferations from the midst of the assembly, tone of his voice, which interested me deeply. the lecturer went on with his cool statement A new feeling flashed across my mind. I of facts, and his earnest appeals to common hesitated-the countenance of my host wore sense; as little shaken by each momentary an approving smile, and I offered myself as commotion, as the sturdy oak of the forest his companion in the exhibition of the followby the pelting of the passing shower: and, ing day. A burst of applause, worthy a before the expiration of one hour, the brave more noble effort, immediately followed, and supporter of the West India interest had for a few hours of my life, I believed myself made good his exit, leaving the field to the to be a heroine. undisputed possession of an abler power. I will not describe the enthusiam which 26 84 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. supported me through these hours, because I sant things said about it, and I have heard esteem such bewilderment of mind no better the gentleman's character called in question." than a dizzy dream; neither will I tell you i He was known and respected by the how much more beautiful this world of ours family, with whom I was a visitor?. appears to the distant and elevated beholder, " By a family of unitarians, it is not improthan to those whose nearer inspection pene- bable that he might. I would choose my trates into the minutie of ordinary existence associates amongst those who were better it is more consonant to my purpose to say, able to direct my conduct; and then, if I had how frequently I recalled the conversation not sufficient judgment to keep me from going of the little party before alluded to, and with astray, I should, at least, acquire ballast what triumph I thought of returning home, enough to keep me down." the object of their wonder, envy, and admira- This conversation was interrupted by the tion. For I should then have been exalted entrance of my father, who kindly welcomed above the world; I should have dared to do me home, but who, when we were left alone, what other women only dream of, I should took the first opportunity of expressing his have voluntarily risked my life. "For what T sorrow for what I had done, 7"Not,3 he would have been a very natural question, added, "that there is any moral culpaand one to which I was ill prepared with a bility in the act itself; but, when a young reply:; but I thought of no such strict inves- lady chooses to be eccentric, she raises up tigation. I had been urged on by the appro- many enemies, and loses much of that safe bation of every one around me; I was ani- and quiet standing in the world which is estamed and cheered by my companion, and, I sential to woman's happiness," knew that kind welcomes and applause Deeply as I was pained by this gentle and awaited my return to earth. delicate reproof, I could not still believe that My wild adventure was attended with no my distant friends, but more especially the accident. Safe again upon terra firma, I public papers, could be so much mistaken in was hailed with a momentary interest, so the real merits of the case. I thought the rapturous while it lasted, as to make me feel good people at home were narrow-minded, like a creature from another world; and in a ill-informed, and did not know exactly what few days, I had the more mundane but not they were talking about; so I took my work, less exciting gratification, of seeing my own and went out with this confidence to spend name in the public journals associated with the evening where I had ever been a welmagnanimity, beauty, and grace. come guest, at the house of an old quaker With these accumulated honours fresh on gentleman, whose active and inquisitive my brow, I returned home, where my glory mind led him to take more interest in the was soon robbed of its lustre by the cold, re- affairs of the busy world, than was quite conproachful looks of my sister, and the open sistent with his secluded habits, and adridicule of my cousin Jane. In vain I re- vanced age. Amongst his few faults, was minded her of what she herself had said. that of loving too dearly to listen to a wellShe scarcely recollected the circumstance at told story, and many a pleasant hour had I all-certainly, nothing on her part that could sat by his side, telling of the characteristic have given sanction to so extraordinary step. sayings and doing of his neighbourhood. I" Do you mean to say that, had you been Here I had never found the east diminution in my place, you would not have gone 1" of cordcial hospitality, here even on the prel" Most assuredly not." sent occasion, the same kind greeting await " That you would not have enjoyed it?" ed me; and "here," I thought, "I can ex" Perhaps, I might, in a private way; but patiate at large upon my recent elevation." as a public exhibition, with a strange gentle- The daughters, who draw so beautifully, man!-I assure you there are very unplea- will listen while I tell of my bird's-eye view, THE PAINS OF PL.EASING. 85 and the old gentleman will be delighted to the courage to act independently; and how hear how the world looks from a balloon." he would never marry any one who did not But somehow or other, no one introduced hunt. the all-absotbing subject, and, although I On the following day, I appeared in a ventured more than once to hint at my late large party, rather crest-fallen, it is true, but travels, and excursions to different places, no still with faint hopes that some liberal minds one " took up the wonderous tale," but con- existed capable of appreciating the magniversation became heavy, and a perceptible tude of mine: but I found these liberal minds sensation of something lurking in the back only in the idle and the dissipated, who ground, made me wish myself away; and flocked around me, as if my late exploit had when I heard whisperings about a fire being established me on the footing of a kindred lighted in a little private study, belonging to spirit; and I returned home, to wonder what my venerable friend, I felt almost as if the that conduct would be that was approved by hour of doom were at hand. It was an easy all. Had I but made the same earnest endoom, however, compared with what the so- quiry about the nature of that conduct which lemn preparations had led me to expect, for obtains the approbation of Him who has laid nothing could exceed the kindness of the lec- down his law for the regulation of our lives, ture which I listened to that night, from one I should not have sunk to rest with such a whose charity knew no bounds. But I was heavy heart, nor awoke on the morrow with distressed to find, that here, even in my such faint and uncertain views of the course strong hold, I could no longer be looked I ought to pursue. upon as a fitting companion for young girls, " What is the object of my life?" is a queswhose characters were unformed, and when tion so necessary and natural to all who I returned to the quiet sitting-room, I felt in know themselves to be accountable beingsthe presence Of the simple, rational, and who cannot, for one moment, stay the prohappy'circle around the fire, as if I bore the cess of thought, nor live for a single day stigma of a crime, for what my heart told without wishing, hoping, or takinr some steps me was nothing more than an indiscretion. towards attaining-that it seems almost inOne slight circumstance was yet to stamp -credible that any mind shrdld exist unawakmy condemnation with a deeper impression. ened by this important ~nd alarming query. The two sons of this worthy family were of "What is the ob;ct of my life? From those opposite extremes of character, which what am I expectilg success, or fearing disare not unfrequently found in the society to appointment?' Whatever may be the nawhich they belonged. The elder was en- ture of this oject, it will undoubtedly prove lightened, serious, and philosophic; the our grealtt blessing, or our greatest curse; younger irrational, absurd, and vulgar. and if. dn mature investigation, we are comWith the elder, I had long been on terms of pella to make the humbling acknowledgthe most cordial intinma~oy the younger I al.- fent, that we have no such object —that we ways shunned, as an antidote to every thing are living on, from day to day, like the beasts that was interesting or agreeable. On tba which perish, eating, drinking, and sleeping, occasion, the elder apologized for not gng withoutany other aim or purpose-we ought, home with me as usual, saying, that his at least, to lay aside the pride of human nabrother would be glad to be my copqanion; ture, and not think that we are hardly dealt and the younger stepped forward, quite de- with, if we perish everlastingly. But since lighted to walk home with 9 spirited girl, there are few who would be willing to pass who had been up in a balloon —saying, all this sentence upon themselves, (let us hope the way, how much fhe hated tame, quiet few upon whom it could be justly passed,) women, like h'is sisters, who did nothing but does it not argue ignorance of our real state knui; how much he admire& ladies who had to say that we have no object. and does t 86 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. not behove every one to make diligent in- " Only just this little etching for me," said quiry what that object is; since, however it one, when I told how my sight was failing.may be hidden from the eyes of man, there " When my cap is finished, I will ask you for will come a day when the secrets of all hearts no more," said another. —" I have promised will be laid open —when the smothered fires my friend one of your sweetest drawings," that have long burned on the altars of the said a third. And so on; for my exertions false god will blaze forth, and when the hid- were by no means confined to the circle of den worshippers will have to stand or fall by my own associates; beyond them was the the idol they have chosen. wider circle of theirs; so that, had the supLost in a labyrinth of fruitless speculations, ply been increased a hundred fold, it would I could not, dared not, acknowledge to my still have been unequal to the demand. But own heart what my object was-but I knew then my work was so exquisite-my drawtoo well what it was not. I knew it was not ings so beautiful-my inventions so inimitathe service of my God, nor the promotion of ble-I was such a dear, good creature-so His glory; and though, in my secret soul, I useful in all their difficulties-so necessary pined for something more substantial than I to all their enjoyments: and so, in good truth, had yet found to rest upon, I never resolutely I believe I was. Yet, all the while, my own turned my thoughts to that which would album lay open, and unfilled; for, knowing have been my shield of safety in the hour of too well the cost of contributing, I could not danger-my rock of defence in the pilgrim- press my own suit beyond a simple request, age of the desert-my home of rest after the and therefore I found none who had time to toils of life. make me a work-bag, nor was theie an eye Finding the stability of my character a in our whole community that was sharp little shaken, in the estimation of some of the enough to see to sprig an apron for me. more grave and scrupulous amongst my "Well, well," thought I, " it is of little confiiends,l redoubled my exertions, in a private sequence; now I will way, to win by kindness what I could not command by respect. I was ingenious in all'Vait till the days of trial comeThe dark days of trouble and wo —' kinds of fancy wtrk, painting, trimming, cutting, and carving; and countless were the and then it will be my turn to receive." hours that I spent, lab(,lring early and late, In addition to the many difficulties and for albums, and bazaars, wedding presents, disadvantages which I have mentioned as and birth presents; often Denying myself belonging to such a varied and wide circle necessary reading, exercise, aid relaxation, of intimate friends, I ought certainly not to to finish a cap for the baby ot one dear omit one which I esteem the greatest, as befriend-to stipple through the widespread ing most dangerous to that uprightness of leaves of a moss-rose for another —ai to conduct, and open rectitude of mind, without invent, sprig, spot, and spangle for all. 1 t which no character can be worthy our esteem first, I thought to make a merit of my ser- or admiration. vices by telling of the quantity of work I had Amongst my friends, were some who cordone; but I soon found, that what was done dialv disliked each other; and to these it for all lost its value in the estimation of each, was Lten my misery to listen, while they and that to please one effectually, I must be heaped;nvea'ives, sarcasms, and abuses silent as to what I had done for another. I upon the Easent party. Nor was my silent was consequently deprived of the only re- listening suffilient to satisfy their spleen. I ward I really merited-praise for my indus- must take their }art. I must say that they try; and while accumulated labours crowded were right, and the other party wrong. It is upon me, I could not even complain of want an uncommon case upon which something of time. cannot be said on both sides;.and if there THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 87 was but one palliating circumstance in the violent burst of indignation against me folconduct of those present, and one act of gla- lowed: I was called a spy, a meddler, a false ring culpability in that of the absent, I sought friend, a deceitful enemy; and, finally, the out and dwelt upon them with all the warmth despised person, whose company carried that friendship could require. The persons disgust along with it, was apologized to, inaccused would then tell their story, to which vited, and treated with tenfold favour. I endeavoured to listen with the same impar- Those who live on vanity must not untiality, and (luring which I usually acted the reasonably expect to die of mortification. same part-a part which might have been This simple event threw me into the deepest safe and well, had not my name, in some depression of mind, and, for a while, I besubsequent burst of anger, been made use of lieved I was, in reality, all this harsh family as that of a convert and ally, and thus a had called me. Instead of sinking under a double and deceitful character assigned to cloud of melancholy which mystified my me; nor could I possibly, in such circum- sense of right and wrong, I ought to have stances, have steered clear of such imputa- gathered wisdom from the past, by learning tions, without I had possessed more tact than that, had I openly dared to take the part of the most artificial of women, and more wis- one whom I esteemed an injured person, it dom than the wisest of men. would have relieved me from the painful neI had, I believe, in my early youth, high cessity of hearing insinuations or abuses notions of candour and sincerity, openness which out of consideration to me, would most of dealing, and independence of mind; but probably have been discontinued; but that, the service of the world is mournfully de- not having taken this part, I had no title to structive to noble sentiments and generosity the name of a true friend, and no right to of heart. make such a communication as that title alone I well remember, on one occasion, hearing could justify. a friend of mine much spoken against by a This was but one circumstance out of many family at whose house she was in the habit of the same nature, too tedious for me to reof visiting; and, believing herself to be a late, or for you to listen to; and, amongst the welcome guest, she had kindly offered to as- number, must not be forgotten those in which sist the young ladies in their knowledge of I myself, from hearing one party only, imone of the continental languages; and this bibed some degree of prejudice, and acted kindness was rewarded by the most cutting accordingly. sarcasms thrown out against her talents and Oh! my young friends, it was a wearisome acquirements. She was one whom I es- and heartless service in which I was engagteemed highly, but I had not the courage ed. It was a hard and toilsome journey that singly to oppose the tide; besides, there were led me through the wilderness of life! things said to which I could offer no opposition, such as the frequency of her visits, and the vexation with which they heard the announcement of her name. I, therefore, thought I could not do less, in common jus- CHAPTER IV. tice to my friend, than apprize her of her real situation with regard to this family, which I To act the part of a true friend requires did, by merely warning her against seeking more conscientious feeling than to fill with their acquaintance, without any of the more credit and complacency any other station or mortifying parts of the story. Having done capacity in social life; because, in all others, this, and not liking to do it secretly, I sent a the duties are more generally acknowledged, note immediately, to inform one of the young more evident, and more imperative: but in ladies of the part I had acted. The most friendship, it is the heart only that decides 88 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. what shall be done, or suffered, stimulated, she must above all things seek to ennoble or subdued, encouraged or repelled; yet of and exalt your mind, sacrificing the pleaall the little niceties of private intercourse, sures of the present moment if necessary to conscience takes cognizance; and those who your everlasting happiness, and faithfully presumptuously assume the sacred name of commending you in her prayers to the guidfriend, without appealing to her tribunal, will ance and protection of him who is alone able to find their punishment in disappointment and prepare you for the habitations of eternal rest. remorse. An agreeable, kind, or prudent If, after all that I have said, I should be friend, it is not difficult to find; but a true able to add that in the course of my experifriend is a pearl of inestimable value, rarely ence with the world, it was my happiness to met with, and not always prized according find one true friend, you will rightly esteem to its worth; for a true friend must often ad- me amongst the most privileged of human minister the bitter draught of reproof, as well beings. That this friend was of my own sex as the cup of consolation-and who amongst it is scarcely necessary to say, since whatus is able to drink of this draught, and bless ever may exist in the dreams of the enthusithe hand by which it is presented? We may ast, I believe that a true, ardent, and lasting perhaps, after the lapse of time, recall the friendship between young men and young anxious solicitude of those who sought to cor- women is seldom to be found in real life; rect our errors, and wish, in our moments of and who that is capable of estimating the inself-condemnation, that we had them near us fluence of each character upon the other in to point out the way of amendment; but, their social intercourse, can withhold their alas! our petulance, at the very time when regret that these attachments should so inaffection had wrought them up to the most variably be destroyed by the false delicacy, painful effort which a kind heart is capable and all other kinds of falsehood that prevail of making, has driven them from our side, in the world. Yet such is the tone and chaand we find, too late, that we have no longer racter of society in its present state, that men a true friend. will be jealous, and women will coquette, A friend must be intimately acquainted even in friendship; and, while this is the case, with your character, and have just enthu- the three grand ingredients of friendship, siasm enough in her attachment to render candour, confidence, and stability, must be the meanest parts of it most disgusting to wanting to render their intercourse either reher, whatever they may be to others; she fined or durable. must have forbearance enough to tolerate.The first time I ever beheld Helen Grayour peculiar views and sentiments with suf- hame was at the house of a widow lady, ficient dignity to support her own; she must where other idlers besides myself were loiterwatch over you for good, and study to pro- ing away a winter's morning, by the help of tect you from evil; she must commend with- that most empty of all devices, that men, or out exciting your vanity, and condemn with- rather women, have adopted for the purpose out bitterness or reproach; she must be spar- of killing time-the amusement of making ing of ridicule except when used to correct calls. The cold season had but just set in, slight errors, or like the stroke of the staff and the drawing-room being yet uncheered upon the ice to ascertain its strength, and by a fire, we were seated snug and warm give confidence for farther trial; she must around a social hearth in a sitting-room, be willing to receive as well as to give, keep- where a little girl of ten years old was premg no account of obligations; she must never paring for her drawing lesson. permit a misunderstanding to remain unex- " Take your papers to the farthest table," plained, or an accidental want of kindness said the mother. " I dare say Miss Grahame unatoned for: and, while the most trifling will not mind us, she is always so abstractpersonal services are willingly performed, ed," she continued in an under tone, when THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 89 the door opened, and a tall thin figure enter- "Stay, stay, my love," said Miss Grahame ed) muffled in well-worn furs which had evi —" you must first finish this tree, before you dently seen better days. Miss Graharne hes- begin with any thing else." itated when she saw how the apartment was With a look of disappointment the little occupied. pupil resumed her pencil, and laboured dili" The morning is so cold," said the lady gently until the tree was completed, but not of the house, "that we cannot leave the fire. without regretting that it was so full of Will you permit ustoremain, Miss Grahame, foliage, and asking more than once if it if we promise not to interfere?' would not look better without the lowest The artist bowed such an assent as im- branch. plied a want of ability to refuse, yet not un- "Now, now!" she exclaimed, after the graciously, for her look, her voice, her whole last rough touch upon the stem-" now I manner were gracious in the extreme; and, shall see all your beautiful drawings 1" at the same time, so dignified and conde- "You will be disappointed, my love," said scending that when she applied herself to the Miss Grahame, with a faint smile, as she business of the day, I could not help thinking looked round, evidently afraid lest the rapthat her native element would be found in a tures of the young enthusiast should awaken very different sphere. The contour of her interest elsewhere. But I was the only one beautiful profile, (for her face was so thin who heard or noticed what was going on. that you could not study it in any other way,) The rest of the party were too busy with the intelligence of her deep dark eyes, and the events of a late extraordinary marriage the gracefulness of all her movements, inter- to hear any voice but their own; and Miss ested me deeply; but when I heard the hol- Grahame spoke in so low a tone that it was low cough which frequently interrupted her with difficulty I could catch her passing reinstructions, saw the long thin fingers with marks upon the drawings which the delightwhich she held her pencil, and caught the ed child was turning over. stolen glance which she more than once di- "But this beautiful house," said the girl; rected to the distant fire, my interest gave " you must not take it from me, but tell me place to sympathy, and I longed to offer her where this charming place can be." some token by which she might know it to " That is the place where I was born," be sincere. My anxiety was in some mea- said Miss Grahame, with an altered voice. sure relieved, when I saw the clhild, with an " I cannot talk to you about that drawing, expression of unaffected solicitu.e, look up I hardly know whether it is good or bad." into her face, and say, " Are you better this "Aind why do you not live there now?" morning, Miss Grahame?" At which she asked the child, still detaining the picture. drew her left hand over the shoulder of her "It was sold, my love." pupil, and, bending towards her so near as to "And did you get all the money? it must touch the rosy cheek with her own, from have been sold for a great deal; you must whence the roses had for ever fled, pursued be very rich. If I were you I would not her occupation without any other remark teach drawing, nor wear that shabby fur." than what related to the subject with which I could not forbear a stolen glance, to see they were engaged. with what philosophy Miss Grahame bore "I have brought my portfolio," said she, this questioning. I expected to behold her " this morning, in order that you may make countenance flushed with indignation, as your choice; for I well know how hard a mine was for her; but knowing that no unatask it is to copy what is not suited to our miable feeling was mingled with the artless own taste." familiarity of her young friend, she answer"Ah! have you?" said the child, and ed, with a placid and benignant smile, "The clapped her hands with exultation. money is not mine, my love, it was given to. 90 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. those who had a better right to it. But tressing light. On my entrance, she laid come, we must not trifle away our time; and aside her shade, and welcomed me with a since you consider money so valuable, I am grace that would have done hor.our to a nosure you would not like your mamma to pay bler habitation. The walls of her small me for spending half an hour with you in idle apartment were crowded with pictures, some talk." in elegant frames, some without any. Three "Oh! yes I should, for I like to talk w'&ith portraits were amongst the most highly you best;; and I never see you, except in adorned; two of an elderly gentleman and these short lessons, and you will not stay a lady, the other of a young man, whose strikmoment when they are over." ing likeness to herself immediately arrested "You know I have others to attend to; my attention. Narrow as was the space aland I assure you it is harder to me than to lotted to a diversity of subjects, they were you, when I chide you for talking to me," extremely well arranged; and everything said Miss Grahame, pressing a kiss upon her around bore marks of elegance, of taste, orbrow. "It is not a fault of which I can ac- der, and regularity. But oh! what poverty; cuse many; but we both know it would be never, never, shall I forget that little room! very wrong in me to receive money for what and Helen Grahame, with the figure and I have not done." bearing of a queen, seated there in loneliness When the first set of callers rose to depart, and penury. " She must be a wretched woI found an opportunity of addressing the man," thought I, and doubtless something of young student and her interesting instruc- the same kind was legible on my countetress; but I almost repented of my purpose, nance; for she smiled, and asked me with when I observed the patient look of resigna- great simplicity, how I liked her little den. tion with which Miss Grahame endured my "We learn a great deal in passing through advances, until convinced that I was really the world," she added: " I should once have interested, and then her countenance wore thought it impossible to be happy in such a the double charm of intelligence and grati- place as this." tude. "And are you happy?" I exclaimed. Having spoken of some paintings she had " Oh! yes, quite contented in my present at home, I said I should esteem it a great lot, finding perpetual pleasure in my books, privilege if she would allow me to call and and my daily occupations, and very, very look over her private collection. thankful that I am able to maintain myself, Miss Grahame blushed, and I thought, for to assist one whom I love, and to burden noan instant, looked distressed; but she imme- body. Sometimes, it is true, my spirits fail diately presented me with her address; and me with my failing health; but God is grahoping that I would not raise my expecta- cious to the feeble, and my trust is in him." tations too high, begged I would spare her As she said this, a peaceful smile passed an evening hour, as she could not make sure over her features, like sunshine through a of being disengaged at any other time. wintry cloud. And then, as if unwilling to I went accordingly on the following day, occupy my time with what was foreign to and found the Miss Grahame, whom I had the purpose of my visit, she unfolded a large imagined born to tread the marble courts of portfolio of drawings, and spread them before kings, a solitary occupant of lodgings, that me, without either vanity or affectation, saywere neither commodious nor situated in a ing, in a voice of peculiar sweetness, whose genteel neighbourhood. She was seated tones my ear will never lose, " I hear, Miss close beside a pale lamp, with her eyes Irvine, that you draw beautifully. May I thickly shaded, so as to strengthen her sight, tell you one thing, amongst the many that I for a beautifully fine drawing, which she was have learned by experience? These perunder the necessity of executing by that dis- fbrmances of my early years have passed THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 91 through a severe ordeal; they have been ex- ings, and prejudices of which that world is hibited in splendid drawing-rooms, when my composed. Besides, since we are all responfather was a wealthy man, and passed from sible beings, both here and hereafter, natuone fair hand to another, to receive the most rally and reasonably suffering what no one extravagant encomiums that flattery could can suffer for us,-the consequence of our bestow. During the last two years they daily errors; it is necessary that we should have been shown about as pattern-cards, to look well to our steps, and not trust too prove that I am really worth my pay. I much to the guidance of the various travelneed hardly say, that in one case the enco- lers upon the path of life, who frequently, miums have been as much too profuse as the more willing than able to conduct us through criticisms and condemnations in the other; its mazes, would lead us hither and thither, indeed, scarcely anything was ever said in from this side to that, round by one way and their favour when they were exhibited merely then by another, until the evening would as works of art, the production of a lady's overtake us in the wilderness, and we should hand, which has not been unsaid since a have to answer to the good master who had price was set upon them." sent us with directions of his own, that we "And how," I asked, "were you able to had not deemed them sufficient, that we had bear the change? were you not overwhelmed listened to those who were themselves bewith disappointment and chagrin?" wildered, and thus had lost our way. My friend looked really amused when she " But I entreat you to pardon me; I am replied, " As I knew at first they were not actually preaching a sermon, when I had above mediocrity, I set down for nothing all meant only to show you my drawings." the praises that went beyond that; and by The fair speaker then rose, and after ringtreating all the disparaging remarks they ing the bell, pressed me to partake of her are now subjected to in the same way, I am usually solitary tea. able to balance the two accounts, and think From this time I found in Helen Grahame, them moderate still. We must all have a all I could desire in a friend; and many standard of our own, if we wish to enjoy a were the hours of social enjoyment that I moment's peace. The world is a capricious spent in what she first called her little den; tyrant, ruling us by so many different laws, and where I soon found it possible to forget that unless we think, judge, and determine everything except the high tone of feeling for ourselves, there is not only great danger which influenced her character; the noble that our thoughts, judgments, and determi- generosity ever warming her heart, and the nations in matters of minor importance, will happiness which attends a close and familiar become weak and confused, but that we shall intercourse with refined and-elevated minds. lose sight of that clear undeviating line Never did I see this admirable woman diswhich separates good from evil." tressed by paltry cares and vexations, though " Speaking of the world in general, I ful- few could have more to contend with; nor ly agree with you," said I; " but with re- weighed down by the humiliations of mortigard to our particular friends, surely their fled vanity, though few had experienced a opinions may sometimes be adopted in pre — more total change of fortune. She had not ference to our own." made the world her idol even in the day of " Our friends," she replied, " are in this prosperity, when its smile was upon her; and sense only parts of a whole, and though our therefore her spirit was not daunted by its affectionate partiality may separate them in frowns, nor her feelings soured by its unkindidea from the rest of the world, they un- ness. doubtedly partake of the same tastes, feel 92 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. CHAPTER V. show her just abhorrence of his conduct; and when he took a vacant place between NOT many evenings after the first I ever us, I turned to observe the indignation of her spent with Helen Grahame, I joined a mixed countenance, and listened for the well-meritparty where a gentleman was present who ed reproofs whi'ch I felt convinced she would struck me forcibly by his resemblance, not bestow upon him." only to the portrait I have mentioned, but to "It is a long time," said he, "since I had my friend herself: the happiness of seeing Miss Morris." " Who is that gentleman with dark hair?" My cousin bowed not ungraciously, and I asked of a lady who sat near me. said, it was, indeed, a long time since they "Oh! that," she replied, lowering her had met. voice, and her brow at the same time, as if " The last time," he continued, "was on the fact was not fit to be spoken aloud, the day of that romantic excursion, when the "that is young Grahame; have you never storm overtook us half way up the mountain, heard of Grahame, of Stapleton-lodge?" and you were the only woman who had the "No; what is there to hear of him?" courage to stand with me upon that tremen"Nothing good, I assure you. The spend- dous precipice, and watch the lightning thrift has wasted his father's property, some playing at our feet." say, broken his heart; and now, do you know, "When I borrowed a cloak of the shephe drinks dreadfully. Indeed, I am surprised herd's wife, and put on the shepherd's hat that any one should think of inviting him to and looked-" an evening party." "As you ought to look,-the genius of the "I understand he is a delightful compan- valley below, protecting it from the fury of ion, when quite himself," observed another the tempest. Do you not think it is worth lady. "But drunkenness is such an odious all the tame pleasures of domestic life, now vice, one never can forget it." and then to spend a day like this amongst My cousin, Jane, who liked nothing better the hills, with nothing but the purple heather than a conference held upon the follies and beneath our feet, and the blue heavens above vices of mankind, now joined us, and with our heads?" bitter invectives expressed her horror that so "I do." shocking a creature should be asked to "Then, why are we so sparing of an enmeet us. joyment which may at any time be ours l Grahame, who was an extremely hand- What say you to a party on the river to some man, had now risen, and joined a HeatonGrove,where I understandthe woods group of ladies, who, whatever they might are delightful? Will you go?" say or think of him, when absent, looked "With all my heart." evidently well pleased with his presence. And thus the conversation went on, to From them he arrived by a chain of commu- my utter amazement, until interrupted by nication at the part of the room where we some common-place remark from me, which were seated. He had the most independent, seemed to break the charm; for Grahame yet most insinuating manner of pleasing I immediately turned, and addressing me in a ever remember to have seen, so that, while grave and earnest manner, said, " I have not you were actually fascinated by his conver- the pleasure of having been introduced to sation, you felt almost piqued that he had you; but as you are the lady who has k'ndly taken so little pains to render it flattering or visited my poor sister, I know you will paragreeable: and, while many were severe don me, when I say that I have made my upon his character, all the young, and not a way from the farthest extremity of the room, few of the old, were won by his address. by slow advances, and circuitous march, for "Now," thought I, " My cousin Jane will thd purpose of thanking you." THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 93 " What I have done solely for my own We who are called men of the world, acgratification," I replied, " cannot surely enti- quire great knowledge of the human heart. tile me to your thanks." We hear the cry that is set up for the cause "But I have heard of' such a thing as be- of virtue; we come into the presence of viring thankful for favours yet to come; and I tuous women, where charity, indeed, would am living in the hope that your first visit seem to prevail; for, how few! how very may not be your last. Poor Helen was once few! appear to remember our transgressions the idol of that society from which she is now against us, or turn a deaf ear to the flattery excluded.-And for what? Because she of profane lips. Yet this charity, I have teaches to the children of these people the good reason to believe, is of rather an evaaccomplishments by which society is enli- nescent nature, and does not always accomvened and adorned." pany the ladies to their own fire-sides; where, " What a marked difference is shewn by if my Ariel tells me right, they not unfrethe world in its treatment of men and wo- quently vilify the character of him upon men." whom they have so lately bestowed their "Your remark is but too just, Miss Irvine. sweetest smiles. Is it not.so, Miss Irvine 3" Only think of me for one moment (I ask no C No, no; you are too severe. Women more)-a spendthrift, who has ruined his are misguided in their judgment of men, by father-a man without any honourable means the artificial rules established in society, which of existing-to say nothing of my present confuse their sense of right and wrong; and habits, which are well known to every one where they know one man to be addicted to here; yet so long as I can wear broadcloth, vices which they abhor, they have so much and drink wine, and tell a good story, and reason to suspect others, that it would be altalk of the hounds I once kept, there will most impossible for them to fix a definite line still be gentlemen so liberal as to invite me by which to mark their approbation or conto their dinners, and ladies so generous as to tempt." dance with me, laugh with me, and plan par- " It is my turn now to complain of your seties of pleasure of which I am to be one; while verity," said Grahame, laughing, " Then my sister, the noblest, the most dignified, the you know my conduct to be bad, but you purest minded of women, pines in her soli- suspect that of so many others to be no bettude, unheeded, and may not join the circles ter, that you will not single me out as the obwhich she is only too good to adorn, because, ject of your especial abhorrence." forsooth! she prefers maintaining herself by "' I think nothing that I have heard of your her own exertions, to that worst of all sla- conduct so bad," I replied, " as the coolness very, dependence on the great. Will you, and indifference with which you speak of it Miss Irvine, visit my poor sister sometimes? yourself." Will you cheer her loneliness, and make "' Thank you, Miss Irvine: you might have her feel that she is not altogether desolate?" told me to begone in gentler words." " She cannot be desolate while she has As he said this he rose, and turning for an a brother so kindly interested for her happi- instant towards me, our eyes met. ness."- The woman who would not flirt, who " Ah! I find you do not know me. I owe would not please where she ought not-in your patience in listening to me to your ig- short, who would act prudently and consciennorance of who I am." tiously, should be very careful of her eyes. " Are not others equally patient who know The eye is the mirror of the soul, into which you better 1" nature teaches us to look, in order that we "Aud thus," said he, in a lower tone, may read the truth. While the lips are " they prove themselves to be pretenders to closed in secrecy, the eye will often betray a greater love of virtue than they really feel. what the heart is most solicitous to conceal; 94 PICTURES OF PRIVAVE LIFE. and she who would pronounce a repulse, Grahame had torn himself away at an must be ever watchful of a wandering glance. early hour from the convivial board; and his The eye, that wonder-working miracle of in- sister, aware of the struggle such an effort telligence, is capable of unveiling, in an in- must have cost him, devoted herself to his stant, the pretensions of the most accomplish- amusement with a degree of vivacity and ed hypocrite; of giving bitterness to jest, animation, stimulated by the real happiness and sweetness to reproof; of unsaying what of feeling that he was again safely and sethe lips have said; of freezing the fountain curely at her side, and that one hour of that was flowing fresh and warm from the temptation had passed over without its heart, and of melting into tenderness the victim. flinty bosom that was steeled against the I know not how far my own conversavoice of pity. tion contributed to the enjoyment of this What was written in my eyes on that rr.e- evening; but it was one over which memory morable occasion, it is impossible for me to still lingers, and from which time has not yet say; but Grahame seated himself beside me, effaced the nearest approach I ever rememand I saw and heard him only for the re- ber to have made to earthly happiness. mainder of the evening. Grahame was a man who possessed a sort It was not long before I repeated my visit of mastery over the minds of others-a to Helen, whose character I found more in- power which he was best pleased to exerteresting the nearer I was permitted to ap- cise, in turning serious things to ridicule, unproach towards that intimacy which I have veiling false pretensions, and lowering the ever looked upon as the greatest temporal standard of human intellect: when, therefore, blessing of my life. There was at this time he chose to lay down his offensive weapons, a cloud upon her brow, and something of ab- and to enter unarmed into the social interstraction in her manner, which I was unable course of life, his looks, words, and most trito understand, not knowing the anxiety that fling acts of kindness, possessed a tenfold was preying upon her susceptible mind, and charm, arising partly from the warm, sincere, undermining her naturally delicate censtitu- and earnest feeling, which accompanied tion. We were conversing on subjects which them. With this feeling, his intercourse excited her to energy and warmth, but I ob- with his sister was invariably marked; and, served that she often paused suddenly, and while he professed himself incapable of lovturned her head in the attitude of listening ing any other creature in the world, my when the wind rushed past the windows, or vanity was piqued at finding myself so totalwhen a step was heard pacing along the ly excluded; and that fatal yearning of the quiet street below. At last there was a loud heart was awakened in mine, to appropriate knock at the door, and Helen started up with to itself some secret treasure, to erect some hope and gladness in her eye, exclaiming, "It altar even to an unknown God, is my brother." I enquired if he had been long from home? " For pilgrim dreams at midnight hour to visit, And weep, and worship there." -" Oh no! only at a dinner party." And weep, and worship there She then continued, in a low and hurried Nor was I long in discovering, that in an manner, "You do not know (Heaven grant affection pure, deep, and ardent, I, as that you never may!) what it is to doubt."-Her sister's friend, might possibly become a parwords were interrupted by the entrance of taker; and, without calculation of the conseher brother, and she turned to receive him, quences, I tried with fresh'energy, my with a smile that might almost have wooed a powers of pleasing. What was the motive spirit from the bowers of bliss. Would that which impelled me onward, I scarcely-know. it could have kept a sinner from the haunts It might be a vain and foolish ambition, to of vice! obtain the affections of one who was said to THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 95 be incapable of loving. Whatever it was, I Helen was laughed at as an affectaunquestionably had my reward: whatever tion of romance; she was called the "picit was, the moving-spring bore no propor- turesque young woman," and I the lady pation to the importance which I attached to tronness; but when my intimacy with her the object-; for when I first listened to pro- brother was suspected, nothing could exceed fessions of attachment, humble, deep, and un- the horror of some of my friends, especially changeable, from this man of pride and po- my cousin Jane, who, for her part, would verty, I felt as if I had gained the world. never encourage the advances of a man Let no woman, who would not steep her whose character she did not approve. bread in bitterness, and her pillow in tears- I was not naturally ill-natured, nor was it who would not have her brow oversha- any gratification to me to make a tart reply; dowed with grey hairs, her cheeks blanched but I could not help reminding her of the by a premature and deadly paleness, her evening when she and this desperate chareye too dim for tears, her voice too faint for acter were engaged in such close and earprayer, and her step too feeble for the bur- nest conversation. den of the day-be led on by pity, admira- "But you must remember," she replied, tion, vanity, or any other power or impulse 1" that I purposely left my seat and went to to love "the man whom she esteems not." another part of the room." There are other afflictions in this world "Yes, my dear cousin, when his attention which break the natural heart, and bow was absorbed by another lady, yet not until down the aspiring spirit, and quench the you had agreed to join him in a party of buoyant hopes of youth-but none can be pleasure." like unto this; for it poisons the very springs Experience, always allowed to be an able of tenderness and affection, and pursues us and powerful teacher, is most instructive in like a merciless enemy, even into the sanc- what relates to our intercourse with what is tuary; where, amidst holy thoughts, and called the world, because the daily and fervent supplications, there falls upon the hourly occurrence of familiar events, all soul a cold and heavy sense of lonelinesss, tending to the developement of character, an aching want of one who is not near to places the human mind in its infinite variebow the knee, and sue with us for pardon ties, perpetually under our observation. and salvation. Before twenty years had rolled over my To love with ardour and constancy one head, I had become a proficient in the art of "whom we esteem not," some hold to be pleasing; and so habitual the practice of it impossible; and so unquestionably it is to a was, that my labours of love were by no well-regulated and rightly-influenced mind; means confined to my own sphere in society; but, amongst the multitudinous mass of hu- and so difficult did I find it to turn a deaf man beings, how many minds are not thus ear to the complaints of poverty or suffering, regulated and influenced-how many are di- that my purse was first drained, and then vided between earth and heaven, loving the my ingenuity put to the rack for expedients things of this world, yet longing after ano- to relieve, assist, or comfort. But te greatther! It is to that such this warning must ap- est trial to my patience was in the constant ply; for such was I, at the time oi omy inti- visitations of persons, in whose affairs I had macy with the brother of Ellen Grahame, no interest, but whom I was still unable to who, shut out from all confidential inter- part from without an invitation to come course, except with his sister, loved me the again. Thus it not unfrequently happened, better, that I dared to break through the when I had commenced a favourite book, shackles of society for her sake and his. set apart an evening for a particular friend, I had, it is true, my share of suffering or planned an agreeable excursion, in stepto endure, for both:-my friendship for ped a very distant relation, the widow of an 96 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. inn-kee-er, who remembered my mother one, that I shrunk with horror from inflicting when t bride, and had brought her work, what they told me would be nothing less and her eldest son, to spend a long day with than death upon those who loved me so deme. Or, in the noon-tide heat of summer, votedly. But experience here, as in many there would come a bevy of young women, other cases, taught me to be more sparing dressed in red, from my father's farm, say- of my sympathy; for I soon found,, that ing, (though the'fact had escaped my me- from this death my admirers were blessed mory) that I had kindly invited them the with a very speedy resurrection. One who last time I was there. Add to which, there had sat down, with loaded pistols on the tawere dabblers in the fine arts, who came to ble, ready to shoot himself at a certain hour, see my bust of Apollo, my pictures, medal- was married in three weeks; another, whom lions, and all sorts of niceties, which I had I had driven into banishment to the wilds of studiously collected for the gratification of America, did certainly emigrate, with a my visitors-flower-fanciers, who came to companion more willing to share his fate; see my carnations-young girls who had no and a third, who had declared his determipianos at home, and came to practise upon nation to drown his passion in the din of war, mine —sons and daughters of my very dear entered into the tobacco trade, and became friends, to whom I had offered to teach a stout and wealthy man. Thus I was reItalian-in short, the labours of Hercules lieved from the torturing anxiety I felt for were nothing to mine; and to the labour the lives and happiness of my lovers, and was added no trifling accompaniment of the remorse which must have been mine, vexation-such as, my best engravings lent had I found myself really the destroyer of out to copy, and sent home with a blot of either. ink upon the best face-my Roman head returned without a nose —and the most valuable books of my library not returned at all. But I was patient and long suffering; and the praises of my goodness, the thanks CHAPTER VI. for my bounty, the flattery of my talents, and the insatiable love of pleasing, spurred me THERE is nothing more wonderful in the on, until I ceased to have a monient that construction of the human mind than its cacoula be called my own; and the prime min- pability of suffering. I never loved but once, ister himself could hardly have his waking and that attachment cost me more than all thoughts and nightly dreams more full than the other troubles of my life. So far as it mine were of floating visions of indefinite might aid my purpose, I should be willing good and certain evil. to recall that season of trial, to dive into the It is not to be supposed, that in the sci- abyss of memory and bring up the bitter ence of winning hearts my studies were con- weeds which overspread and choaked the fined to rny own sex only. I had my com- natural springs of hope and energy in my plement of lovers; and since I could not heart; but there is no -language capable of marry, I pitied them all. Indeed, my refu- conveying an idea of what the heart that has sals, wrung from me by necessity, were felt alone-can understand. We may speak couched in such gentle words, and aecom- of the ordinary calamities bf life, because we panied by so much tenderness and compas- usually address ourselves to those who have sion, that I believe the attachments which experienced the same; but there are sufferthey pri'onounced unchangeable would really ings of which it is as vain to attempt a dehave proved so, had their termination tested scription, as to tell of the impression made with me. It was sc harrowing to my feel- by a dream, of which we may indeed relate ings to occasion a moment's pain to any the facts and circumstances, but that which THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 97 constituted the vividness, the life, the essence him until -" and then her voice would of the vision, must be ours, and ours only. falter between hope and despair. " The In referring to this part of my life I am sister who was born beneath the same roof able to recollect nothing but what bore some with him, upon whom he has a natural claim, relation to the moving spring of all my has no right, even if she had the inclination, thoughts and actions. I am not aware that to cast him off; but to continue a connexion I neglected any of the various claims upon of this kind is very different from establishmy attention, which I had myself established; ing a new one. Be kind to my brother, I but I know that I performed my wonted beseech you, for your regard may help to routine of occupations with more heaviness save him. Show him that you think him and languor, and that, although I had long worth your solicitude, but on no account, I neglected the duty of prayer for myself, I entreat you, enter into any sort of engagethen learned to pray earnestly and diligently ment with him, nor sacrifice one iota of your for another. own respectability, even in the opinion of the It has been said by an able and popular world, for his sake. Such a sacrifice would writer, that even if prayer had never been be unspeakably calamitous to you, and could enjoined as a duty, we should still have ap- be of little service to him; for such are the plied to it as a necessary resource from the necessary laws instituted for the protection very weakness of nature. It was in this of the female character, that, should a woman way, despairing, helpless, and utterly desti- descend but one step from her proper station tute of power in myself, that I offered up to draw up a man who has fallen below his, petitions for the better guidance of one whose she is not only unable to assist him who will happiness was of more importance to me not assist himself, but becomes inevitably inthan my own. I had heard of gracious and volved in his degradation." almost miraculous answers to prayer, and I was sitting with Helen late one evening, for some time deceived myself with the pre- my sister having agreed to call for me on sumptuous hope that I, who had hitherto her return from a party, when my friend disneglected to lay hold of this blessed privi- closed to me more than she had ever done lege, might just kneel down and pray for before of her past life and change of fortune. any particular good which I chose to specify, "I do not like to dwell much upon this and that my prayer would be granted. But theme," she said, " for when I speak of my my presumption had its cure-and, in my parents and the home I once enjoyed, I feel own condemnation, I had cause to bless the my failing health too keenly, and the want mercy and justice of Him by whom it was of those comforts which a weakly frame is appointed. apt to make us pine for. The natural heart Helen Grahame' was fully aware 6f the is affected by natural things, and human tenattachment which existed between her bro- derness ever accompanies human weakness; ther and myself, and often thanked me with thus, while I weep too often when I think of tears of gratitude for having cheered him my own mother, and turn too fondly to her with the happy thought that, when she was past kindness when treated harshly by gone, he would have one friend left behind. strangers, my desire is to think more and Nor were her tears those of gratitude alone more of that Parent whose arm is still near -she sometimes spared from her own hard to support me, of tflat home where the weary lot the most tender sympathy for mine-that may find everlasting rest, and of those comI should have fixed my affections upon one forts which are mercifully provided for the whose character and circumstances were so helpless and the needy." ill-calculated to increase my happiness. I replied, that we did well to look to the " Grahame has a kind and generous heart," rest that was eternal, for this world had little she would say, "but you must never marry to offer. 98 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. "I believe," she continued, " that the true except a few empty words of hope that he Christian may enjoy a degree of peace, would soon be here. which almost deserves the name of rest, even "He will, I doubt not," she answeredin this life. It is not so much the fault of the " but how?" world as of our own hearts, that we are so I had never beheld him except as a man tossed about by contending interests, and of dignity and refinement, and was unable to worn by paltry cares and vexations. If we picture him, even to my imagination, in any first love God, and then the creatures he has other character. formed after his own image, we shall be able " We are all that are left of a fallen family," to regard the world, of which they form a she went on, " the last of a blighted name; part, without either attaching to it the im- but this would be nothing if my poor brother portance that is felt only by servile minds, or could but lay down his head at night with the the contempt which is assumed along with a blessing of Heaven upon his slumbers. pretence to superior wisdom; but if we first The midnight hour was now passed, and love the world, we shall find neither time Helen was still pacing to and fro with weary nor ability to devote our thoughts to the and irregular steps. Her hollow cheeks had author of it; and, however faithful our ser- grown more pale and haggard, from the want vice may be, we must still.ook to the world of natural repose; and her dark eyes more for our reward, and to a jealous God for our bright and flashing, with the fever burning punishment. in her veins. Her long raven locks had'" Let me warn you, my dear friend, against been thrown back from her forehead, as if to too great a sacrifice for the sake of pleasing. lighten the burden of her brain; and it might It is an amiable desire which leads you on, be with a slight touch of impatience, arising but you must have learned by this time the from her disorder, and the many, many times utter impossibility of gratifying all the wishes she had paced the floor at'the same hour of of all your friends; and there is an economy night, when no eye was upon her save that of time and thought which is necessary in which seeth in darkness as at noon-day. order that we may husband our powers for Oh! were it possible for man to penetrate more useful purposes. Nothing can look the recesses of woman's heart, to know all her more like virtue at first sight, than to spend fervent love, her deep anxiety, her burning all your time, your thoughts and talents, in hopes, her aching fears, her devotedness, her the service of others; but may not these zeal, her forgetfulness ofself, he would surely valuable faculties and possessions be frittered sometimes tear himself away from that felaway in things of very trifling importance, lowship which is not of the heart, to mitigate when they might, with just the same degree her anguish, and snatch her from a premaof kind and generous feeling, be more bene.- ture bat lingering death! ficially employed?" The brother of this incomparable woman The evening was now growing late, and, came at last-and how? We heard the as hour after hour passed on, Helen became tread of many feet, and one rude laugh, bemore grave and silent, until her cheerfulness fore the bell was wrung with a violence that entirely gave way, and she could speak on made us start; for Helen had been so careno theme but one. ful that all the inmates of the house should " My friend," said she, "you are with me be asleep, and unconscious of what might now for the first time in my hour of weakness pass, that we had spoken softly and seldom -the midnight hour-when my brother has for the last hour, She now took up the lamp not returned!" in-silence, and beckoned me to follow. I did She was pacing to and fro in her narrow so, and received it from her hand when we apartment, and I had no consolation to offer, had reached the door, which she unbolted as THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 99 quickly, and with as little noise as possible. with such a look of love and pity as I imagine I had seen her a few moments before, lan- ministering angels wear, when they go forth guid, weary, and almost helpless as a child; upon their errands of mercy. but she now stood in a commanding attitude Soon after this I heard the sound of carriage before the jovial crew, who controlled their wheels, and, in a few moments, was listening boisterous mirth at her presence, while she to my sister and my cousin, relating the various received her brother, reeling from their arms, amusements, literary and intellectual of the steadied him along the passage, and up pastevening. "Howdifferentlythe sameevenstairs, without a word, except to tell me to ing may be spent!" thought I, and was silent. bar the door and remain below; and if my Had the brother of my friend been a man sister should call, to go quietly, without wait- of generally depraved conduct, or dissolute ing to see her again. manners, the fatal spell which bound me to Awed into obedience by her firmness, dig- him could never have existed, or must have nity, and self-possession, I did as she direct- been broken on the first discovery that such ed; but when all again was silent and secure, was his real character. But he was at this I lost my presence of mind, and throwing my- time the victim of one vice only, into which self upon a couch, gave way to the natural he plunged in a sort of desperation, brought horror occasioned by the spectacle I had just on by his altered circumstances, and his witnessed of the man I most admired and want of right principle to bear them with forloved-lost, degraded and brutalized. titude; and this vice had not yet been long The woman who continues to love the enough in operation to produce the natural man wh6m she has seen intoxicated, proves, and inevitable consequence of vitiating the beyond a doubt, one of these two facts- whole heart, of extinguishing every hope, either that she has no true sense of what con- and expelling every laudable desire. He stitutes the dignity of the human mind, or had his seasons of penitence, of which I was that her love is love indeed. not unfrequently a witness;-his visitations It was not long before Helen returned, of agony and remorse, in which he would apstill pale; but now that her faint hopes were peal to his sister and to me for that encourageover, and she had nothing more to fear, calm, ment which I, at least, was unable to offer. patient and resigned, with the active assi- But Helen had looked upon the vicissitudes of duity of an affectionate nurse, she stirred the life with a deeper sense of the merciful dealfire, and made ready some refreshment, as if ings of providence than I had. As we jourhe for whom she prepared it was worthy of neyed through the wilderness together, she her tenderest care; nor was I forgotten in was to me like a blessed messenger, who her solicitude for him. While waiting for brought tidings of wells of water when I was the boiling of the water, she turned towards faint and despairing. me, and holding out her hand-" My poor "You see," she would often say, " my brofriend," -she was beginning to say,-but we ther has not yet lost his love of virtue. To both knew it was no time for words; and the you I need not point out the delicacy and tennext moment I felt her tears upon my cheek. derness of his regard for those whom he is "When will you be able to find rest for able to respect." yourself?" said I. I "While this remains," I replied, "there is She smiled, but made me no answer. hope." " Dear Helen, you cannot drag on life in "There is hope to the very last," she anthis manner." swered. " There was hope for the thief upon "I have existed in this manner for two the cross, when he appealed to the crucified years," said she; "you see I have a great Jesus; and there is hope for the sinner in his deal of strength left;" and so saying, she took dying hour. I own my spirit faints within me up the coffee, and smiled as she passed me, at every fresh instance of ingratitude and 27 10C PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. alienation of the heart from God; but I know may seem childish or romantic to dwell thus that he continues to be merciful, and that upon the continuance of a passion, proverwhen we are weak and powerless to assist bial for its lightness and buoyancy; but there each other, he has often his own wise and are hearts from which, though the cause may gracious means, inscrutable to the under- be forgotten, its melancholy effects will never standing of man, by which he calls back be effaced.,s wandering sheep, and appoints his ser- As I was one day sitting under the disvants at the eleventh hour." pensation of a long story, told for the twenWith this melancholy attachment, kept tieth time by an old foxhunter, a note from alive by alternate hope and fear, still pray- Helen Grahame was put into my hand. I ing upon my heart, I dragged on a comfort- affected to receive it with perfect indifferless existence; but so great was my profi- ence, and folded it in my fingers, with my ciencyin the art of managing my countenance, head turned towards the sapient narrator for my voice, and my whole demeanour, that I full five minutes longer. At last, after helpcould still laugh with the merry, sigh with ing him to laugh, as I had often done before, the sad, argue with the contentious, sentimen- at what he called a capital joke put upon the talize with the poetical, reason with the pro- village schoolmaster, I took an opportunity of found, and trifle with the gay; indeed I could escaping, and opening the note in my own accomplish all the business of life (for of chamber, read as follows: mine this was the business) without betray- "Come to me as soon as possible, and ing the real state of my heart and affection. cring a physician with you, for my brother is There was one thing, however, I could not dangerously ill." do-I could not sit down with a confidential A slight line was drawn through this, and friend, and talk over in perfect openness and another sentence hastily added: —Come freedom, some of the topics which had been alone: the physician must not find you wont to interest me most. Here I was at here." fault; and consequently some of my friends With trembling steps I hurried on to see thought me less agreeable than formerly; my friend, and share in her anxiety, however and no wonder; for to be generally pleasing deep its causve might be. I found her watchin society, it is necessary that the heart should ing beside her brother, whose flushed count be free from absorbing care; and what tenance, burning hand, and wandering eye, cause can be so productive of care, per- bespoke an alarming state of irritation. A plexity, and distraction of thought, as an un- dangerous fever was pronounced to be his fortunate and ill placed attachment! malady; and all the little consolation I enOh! guard against this enemy, my young joyed, and which Helen was too generous to friends, as you would against one that is able deny me, was that of providing, out of the to destroy the happiness of the soul, both liberal allowance with which my father indulhere and hereafter; and let your defence be ged his children, those comforts and neeesa rightly governed mind, and your protec- saries that would otherwise have been betion the overshadowing love of your heaven- yond the reach of my poor friend. ly Father; for this enemy is one which some- "I am not so ignorant of the nature of times comes in the morning of life, like a true affection," she said, "as to deny you scathing wind upon the blossoms of spring; this gratification; especially as my own reand the mind that was just putting forth in cources, depending upon my daily labours, hope and gladness, shrinks back, and con- are now cut off. I once enjoyed the happitracts within the narrow precints of despair ness of giving; and from what I remember -becomes fettered with heavy bonds, that of it, I know that you are more blest than I cannot be broken, and laden with a weight in receiving." that no after circumstance can remove. It The fear of exciting uwspicion prevented THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 101 my being often present with Helen in her die- I returned thanks to the Giver of all good, the ltress, but my thoughts were with her always in Reclaimer of the wandering, the Redeemer that little darkened chamber, while my tears of the lost, filled my heart with a happiness and prayers upon my sleepless pillow bore as new, as it was perfect in its mastery over witness alone to the agony that wrung my all my former doubts and fears. In the heart. Prayers, such as I had never breathed wide field of minute and trifling things, before, seemed now the only language in where women, and women only, find food which I could unburden my griefs; and while for sweet and bitter fancy, we ranged tocomparatively reckless of my own eternal gether, culling the flowers, and expatiating safety, I entreated for one who was now una- on the sweets, of the enjoyment of which we ble to ask for himself, that he might be restored fondly imagined that nothing could now deto life-to life,-indeed, to all that constitutes prive us. the vitality of our existence;-to " the means of grace, and to the hope of glory." " I prayed (for I was not naturally selfish) * that this might be accomplished, even if I myself were struck out of the account, and if it should be effected without any instru- CHAPTER VII. mentality or participation of mine. Well may it be said of the human heart, GRAHAME was restored to health, and to a that it is deceitful above all things, when it better government of his mind and conduct. can deceive us even in prayer. I thought, at I still continued my short but frequent visits; the time, that I should not only be satisfied, for debility, and the want of any useful embut happy, if my prayer was granted. I was ployment, with a distaste for the company of tried, and the weight of my disinterested his former associates, kept him a close prisseal found wanting. oner: I therefore made sure of finding himIn the course of a few weeks my friend adri finding him all that I could desire he was restored to peace of mind, and her bro- sl6ulld be. Was it so? Alas! while the ther to the full possession of his mental cup of joy which my friend partook of was powers, though still much reduced and en- filled without alloy, there were certain drops feebled. Helen told me almost in an ecstacy of bitterness in mine, which I could neither of joy, that he had often requested her to describe to another, nor reconcile to myself. read particular passages from the Bible to While the feelings of Grahame towards his him during his illness. She had sometimes sister were animated with fresh warmth and feared this might be only the wandering of gratitude, there was something in his behadelirium; but we both now observed that his viour, imperceptible it might be to one who conversation, though he spoke seldom, was did not love, but oh! how changed to me! much altered. It might be nothing more than an alteration I was left alone with him for a short time in the cadence of the voice, every tone of one evening, when he addressed me very which had established in my heart its own seriously, requesting that I would not ques- distinct and peculiar echo; or the averted tion him as to the state of his mind and feel- eye, which told too plainly, what no one else Ings. could understand-the chain of sympathy "I cannot bear it now," he added. " I broken, and broken for ever. But I had nohave passed through a great deal besides thing to complain of. I could not tell the the agony of disease; and I would not wil- friend of my soul that her brother's voice was Tingly have my thoughts interrupted." changed, and that he did not look at me as My friend and I now rejoiced in secret he was wont: nor was the change so marked and alone, and the gratitude with which I as to entitle me to ask for an explanation. 102 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. There was nothing I could do but pity my- ing the confidence of my father and the hopes self, and be silent. of my sister, he was admitted occasionally It was not long before my friend told me into our family circle on terms of social inthat her brother's altered views had stimu- tercourse. At first, I felt solicitous to conlated him to seek some regular employment, ceal the degree of intimacy which had once by which he might become a more useful been ours; but my apprehensions of detecmember of society. I thought he might have tion were quieted in the manner I should last first mentioned this to me; and when I found have desired. Had any thing of this nature that my father was the person he had chosen been betrayed, it would have been on my to consult respecting his future proceedings, part only; and I must have been miserably I felt doubly pained at being thus completely deficient in female delicacy and tact, had I excluded from his confidence. Still as there not been willing also to forget what no longer never had existed between us any kind of appeared worthy of being remembered. engagement, beyond what was implied in a Once, and once only, was the subject almutual acknowledgement of regard, I could luded to between us. I had completed a not, in common delicacy, demand what I had gift, which he had himself asked of me, in never before doubted was my right. days which I will not call happier, but in My father communicated to my sister and days when I believe I was less wretched. myself together the first intelligence I heard, This gift I presented to him one day, when that he had agreed to find employment for we were alone. He received it, I thought, Grahame in the bank; "for," said he, (and I with some emotion; and, addressing me inwardly blessed him for the words) " I firmly once more by my name, (that sound so full believe him to be an altered man; and his of meaning,) "Caroline," said he, " I am talents for business, if he will but use them, unworthy of this. My love has been shaken no one can doubt." by a tempest. If it has now neither leaves. I felt my face beginning to tell its burning nor flowers, nor fruit to offer you, blame me secret, but I had a ready way of extricating not. I owe you much, and I feel that I am myself from all such emergencies; and after not ungrateful." tying up a drooping rose, which had sud- "Name it not," said I. "To see you denly attracted my attention in the adjoining changed in heart and conduct is all I ever green-house, I returned when my cheeks asked as my reward. Continue thus, and I were cooler, and assured my father that shall be "-the happiest of women, I would Helen Grahame's description of her brother have said-but my heroism forsook me, and was so favourable, that I did not think those I turned away to hide my tears. who trusted him now would find him un- "Caroline," said he, and he laid hWs hand worthy. upon my arm for the last time, with a look " I wish it may be so," observed my cousin which owed its tenderness to pity-" amongst Jane. " I should be very careful how I trust- the heavy burdens which have lately rested ed him." on my conscience. is the stern duty of telling My Easter spoke more kindly, and begged you -" nmy father; if he thought it would be any sup- " Say no more," said I. port tqa his better resolutions, to extend his " Thank you, for wishing to spare me." confidence so far as sometimes to invite him "It was myself I wished to spare," I to the house. added; and he paused for a moment. My hand trembled as I gathered up ano- " You need not tell me, Grahame, that you ther rose, and I almost forgot the cloud iove me no longer. It is sufficiently evident which had lately overshadowed me, in the to one who can think and feel." happiness of this moment. "But I must tell you the cause. With The altered character of Grahame justify- the change of my heart, my views of moral THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 103 excellence are changed; and, while I no like many others with which I had been longer admire that generosity and kindness wont to refresh myself in the wilderness of which owe their existence to the impulse of life. Grahame could now economize; and the moment, I feel that I can love only he, too, had his hidden purpose, for which where there is consistency of character, and he toiled and hoarded. A calculation as acstability of principle." curate as could be made, of all that I had How strange is the capability of the hu- spent upon him was entered into, at his deman mind for receiving impressions from sire, by his sister, and the supposed amount what does not appear at the time to strike laid before me in genuine and current coin. the attention. It must be, that the faculty I resisted with all the spirit that was left me, of perception is quickened anew by the touch and denied the correctness of the sum-but of some vital part, or that the flood-gates of all in vain. There was something cool and the mind, thrown open by one tremendous imperative in his manner, that awed me into burst, loose particles and broken fragments obedience, and I received the money with are borne in along with the impetuous cur- that sickness of soul which attends most frerent. Whatever the philosophy of this men- quently upon its resignation. Nothing, howtal phenomenon may be, I can remember ever, could have induced me to spend this even now, the day, the hour, the state of the sum upon myself. It was hid in a secret reatmosphere, when these words were spoken ceptacle, where it might have remained -the room, the pictures, the furniture within until this day, had not an opportunity oc-the flowers, the birds, the sunshine with- curred of sending it forth through a more out. And yet, so absorbing was the theme worthy channel. to which the words related, that I stood fixed The health of Helen Grahame was failing to the spot like a statue, long after the rapidly; and when the summer came with speaker had departed, and left me alone- its wonted respite from the toils of education, alone, indeed! for I was lost in a grief it appeared highly necessary that some plan that admitted no fellowship-a grief, under should be adopted, to restore her wasted which, even had it been possible to find, I powers, and enable her to renew her accuscould not have sought, communion-a grief tomed labours. Her thoughts were so far which I neither looked for consolation to removed from all false delicacy and paltry soothe, nor anguish to embitter-a grief pride, that she could accept a kindness with "sufficing unto itself in its terrible individu- the grace and dignity of one who gives; ality." This was the man for whom I had and when I pressed upon her the advice of prayed, and wept, and suffered. My suppli- her physician, and my own scheme for recations had been that his heart might be moving her to the south of England, she anchanged: his heart was changed, and I had swered me with tears of gratitude, as she no right to complain. would wish to be answered in similar cirIn my desire to administer comforts and in- cumstances herself. dulgences to one who had enjoyed, in early "It was once," she said, "the happiness life, a more than common share, I had prac- of my life to be generous and bountiful. It tised a degree of economy, at variance with is now my part to receive; and I thank my my usual habits; and when idle comments God that I have one friend, who is both able were made upon my lately acquired propen- and willing to assist me. We are dependsity to spare every unnecessary expense, I ent creatures, bound to each other by innufelt a secret exultation burning in my cheeks, merable obligations, which constitute the and lighting up my eye with more happiness strength and durability of social fellowship. than I could have derived from any merely It may appear to those who think superselfish gratification. But this secret spring ficially, more noble to be above receiving of enjoyment was destined to be dried up, assistance; but, were all too proud to re 104 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. ceive, the duty of giving freely and cheer- seek may find; yet was I unable to bless his fully would find no room to operate; and if parting footsteps, for I was left behind. No! none were willing to be helped, how should it was impossible that Helen Grahame should we exercise the Christian graces of kindness wholly sympathize with me. Those who and charity? I have struggled hard that I live for heaven cannot feel with those who might not cumber the ground, nor encroach live for earth. upon the bounty of others. Were it proba- I, who had prayed that the wanderer ble that you would ever feel the want of might be reclaimed in any way, on any what is now ministering to my necessities, terms, and had added in the fervour of the believe me, I would rather die than prolong moment, even without my instrumentality my life, at the expense ofinjuring you: but or participation, now found that my prayer you tell me, and I cannot doubt your word, was granted, and acknowledged that I was that you are well able to assist me; and I not happy. Yes, I was almost happy, when will not deny you the happiness of binding I felt the play of the gentle breezes, and met up the broken reed." the pleased and animated look of my friend My kind father, ever too indulgent to his after the first view of the wide ocean had children, and not averse to my project, added burst upon us, as we descended into a peacemore than was sufficient to my hoarded ful valley, where the green slopes and the store; and if, when I set off with my pre- rich luxuriance of foliage, bespoke a mild cious charge to the southern coast, the pulsa- and genial atmosphere, such as the wasted tion of my heart was not in tune with perfect and the weary delight to breathe. happiness, the fault was not in my friend, We were not long in fixing upon a low nor in the animating sense of satisfaction myrtle-wreathed cottage for our temporary which attends upon our kindest and most dis- residence, where, if the roses were not fair interested actions. Often, as we proceeded to me, the woodbine lovely, and the jessamine slowly on our journey, was the countenance sweet, they were all I could desire for Helen. of that friend turned towards me with looks In her enjoyment I sought and found my of inexpressible tenderness, while she pressed own, and so well was I versed in the art of my hand, but spoke not; for there was even appearing what I was not, that this excellent between us one subject, one of intense and and guileless creature knew little of the sadmutual interest, now seemingly forbidden. ness with which I sometimes looked aroundI, at least, could find no words sufficient for upon that world of nature, where her purer my feelings, and Helen struggled long with eye beheld enough of beauty, glory, and hers, before she could convey an idea of magnificence, to fill the anthems of celestial them to me. Nor was it possible, even praise, and inspire with undying melody the then, that her sympathy could be equal to harps of the archangels. my need. Hers was a gentle spirit, heaven- After my friend had retired to rest, came ward bound, passing through the vale of my hour of melancholy, when no eye was tears, with no desire but to point out the ce- upon me but that of the great Father of the lestial city to other wanderers by the way, universe, whom I was not serving: when no and to gather in the nearest and dearest be- step was near, and yet I marked in the wide neath the shelter of the sacred walls. I expanse before me the foot-prints of a God, was a dweller in the wilderness, lighting ur at whose shrine I was not offering up my my lone cave, spreading forth my store, ana heart: when the blue skies, the shining stars, preparing rest for the weary traveller: but and the silent vault of Heaven were above the traveller had passed on, and the desert me, and I was not bowing before the majesty was more dreary, the cave more lonely than of their creator, nor acknowledging his embefore. I knew that he had gone forth to pire in my soul. seek a "better land," and that all who For a short time, the invalid revived, and THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 105 we spoke of the future, as those converse towards our fellow-creatures, hold yourself who expect to share a long life together; but more separate from the world. Your hour this transient hope soon failed us, and I was of trial has not yet come, and, oh! that it at a loss how to carry on our conversation never may! I have no quarrel with the beyond the present hour. Helen assisted world, nor would complain of its unkindness; me; for death was no new subject of contem- but as a master, it is a cruel tyrant, and its plation to her, and whether she spoke of this service wretched slavery." world or the next, her heart was full of hope My friend paused, after uttering these and trust. words, and we both looked out in silence toWe were seated together one sunny morn- wards the blue sea, where a few white sails ing, with the door of our cottage thrown were passing to and fro, and the waves just open to admit the refreshing breezes that ruffled by the summer gale, fell upon the waved the light sprigs of jessamine, and shore with a distant and monotonous sound. mingled its perfiume with the clustering rose, Our musings were interrupted by the rapid when Helen asked me if I did not wonder at approach of a well known step. In an inher apparent indifference about her worldly stant, Grahame stood before us, and unconconcerns. scious of the critical stage of his sister's mal"You see me here," said she, "almost ady, gave utterance at once to the glad tidpennyless, my strength failing, and the time ings he had brought. fast approaching, when, unless something un- "Helen," he exclaimed, "I am an indeexpected should occur, I must return to ar- pendent man! I can now repay your kindduous duties, which I am rapidly becoming ness. My uncle in Scotland is dead, and I less able to perform." am proved to be his heir. My own Helen, I replied, it was, indeed, a most perplexing let me hear you say how happy we shall situation. once more be together." "And yet I do not fear," she continued. Helen had started from her seat, on the "There is sometimes a veil mercifully drawn first appearance of her brother. Her hands over what we are unable to look upon. I and eyes were raised to Heaven, and one pretend to no prophetic vision; but have we burst of gratitude had passed her lips, when not heard of instances in which the mother a sudden flush of crimson rushed into her has been permitted to forget her child, so cheeks, spreading with a rapid and burning that the thought of its orphan helplessness glow over her temples and forehead, while did not imbitter her dying hour 1 Is it not she sunk back, supported only by her brothe same merciful hand that is now closing ther's arms. For one moment, her countemy eyes to the mysterious future, in order nance was lighted up with a faint smile. It that I may trust more entirely to my Hea- was the last effort of expiring nature, and venly Father. My friend," she continued, my first, my only friend, was no more. stretching out to me her emaciated hand, She was buried in a quiet church-yard in "you who have supplied to me all the tender that sequestered valley, where the early offices of a sister, —I know not whether the blighted, the feeble, and the failing, still rehappy hours we have lately spent together sort; but where the genial airs too often are ordained to be the last and the sweetest; sought in vain, visit none more lovely, or but as I have always wished to be a faithful more worthy to be loved. We left her lowly monitress to you, so now I would leave, if grave to the solitude of that woodland scene we must indeed be torn asunder, my parting to the sprinkling of wild flowers, the song of charge upon your heart. Endeavour to live summer birds, and the unceasing murmur of more to yourself, or rather, more to your the ocean waves. We left her grave, where God; and while, as a practical Christian, we had wept together, and returned again you neglect none of the duties enjoined us to the busy and tumultuous world. 106 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. There was nothing on the journey to cheer not altogether joy, for there were traces of or revive my drooping spirits. Grahame recent tears, which, when I asked for my neither sought, nor offered consolation. He father, flowed afresh. was deeply affected-perhaps, too deeply, to "What is the matter?" said I.' What think of me; for had there not occurred one can have happened amongst you 2 I see short interval of notice, the nature of which both smiles and tears. Tell me, that I may rendered it infinitely worse than none, I share in one or both." should scarcely have supposed him to be The mystery was soon unravelled. My conscious of my presence. We were pur- father's affairs had, for some time, been adsuing our melancholy way in silence, when vancing towards a fearful crisis. Grahame he suddenly addressed me in a very serious had made this discovery, and, unable to exmanner on the subject of economy, a prelude tricate or assist him, had done what he could, which introduced once more the return of in the way of lightening his burdens, by the sum of money I had expended upon my offering his hand to my sister, for whom he lost friend. In vain I attempted to remon- had lately entertained the highest admiration. strate; I could not find one word to express This intelligence was communicated to me; my sense of the cruelty of denying me this and the latter part of it, as if I were altolast poor consolation. The money was gether unconcerned, and would, of course, placed in my hand, and I grasped it uncon- rejoice in my sister's good fortune; for the sciously, without once glancing at the sum, death of Grahame's uncle, added to his own while he went on, hinting at the need I might continued stability of conduct, rendered the one day feel of that bounty which I bestowed match in every way desirable. Did I retoo profusely. His words conveyed no mean- joice? Ask those who have striven, from ing to my ear at the time; I only felt that he the cradle to the grave, to divest their hearts spoke daggers; but after circumstances con- of selfishness, to inure themselves to torture, vinced me that he was acting the friendly and to live only on the happiness of others part of preparing me for a calamity which he ask them whether the natural glow of human had good cause to apprehend. This short feeling is ever totally extinguished-and you communication over, we fell again into our will be able to imagine whether I could reformer silence. I wept, but my tears were joice. not all for the departed; and in this unsocial After adding to the intelligence, which I manner, the journey was completed. Weary thought sufficient already, that, in anticipaand dispirited, leaning on an arm that sup- tion of the sudden winding-up of my father's ported me because I was a necessary burden, affairs, it had been concluded to fix the folI reached my father's door. The night was lowing day for my sister's marriage, I was far advanced, but all seemed bustle and un- left alone, with many kind wishes that I settlement within. might sleep well, and arise refreshed from "Have you had company?" I asked. the fatigues of my journey. "No," was the ready reply of my cousin The vulgar adage, that " misfortunes Jane, accompanied with a look of meaning, never come singly," has often given rise to which, exhausted as I was, I longed to un- thankfulness in my heart, that thus we are derstand. More assiduous than usual in her spared a degree of suffering which might attentions, she followed me to my own chain- otherwise be intolerable. It is Impossible to ber, where my sister was waiting to receive feel, with equal poignancy, two calamities at me, and her embrace being also more warm once; and, consequently, while two strokes than usual, I felt certain that some influence fell upon me, I endured only the agony of was at work, with which I was unacquainted. one. Some secret spring of excitement had evi- The wedding-day passed over as such dently been opened-of excitement that was things usually do. My father appeared at THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 107 breakfast in the morning, hurried over his usefulness, for the entertainment of promispart of the ceremony, and often turned, when cuous guests was decidedly my sphere of he felt that enquiring eyes were upon him. excellence. My sister felt this and valued My dresses had been prepared for me; and me accordingly; for, whenever I forgot my I acted my automaton part, without any clear duty, grew silent, and fell back by a sudden perception of what was passing. I was to transition of thought into the aching void of accompany my sister as her bride's-maid; my own bosom, I was reprimanded, stirred and, when I begged to be allowed to remain up, and requested to be more entertaining, with my father, was told, that my aunt and until my situation sometimes reminded me cousin were much more fitting helps, and of that of the caged inhabitant of the wilds, that my duty was to support my sister, and when poked out and made to roar and play sustain her spirits. " And who is to support tricks for the edification of the insatiate mob. me?" said I, in the bitterness of my heart; My powers of pleasing, seldom exercised but I neither resisted, nor complained; and in vain, again obtained for me that popularthe bridal party set off (the newspapers said, ity I had once enjoyed, and with it those in high glee) for a tour on the continent. racking demands upon my time and talents which had frittered them away before. If less interested than formerly in the business of making friends, I was, perhaps, more patient and complying, from a painful and huCHAPTER VIII. miliating sense of my altered and helpless situation: and thus with the increase of my DURING my six months' residence on the intimate associates, my expenses were incontinent, dark passages in the annals of our creased also; for there were tender-hearted family occurred. The alteration in my fa- creatures who wept at parting, and would ther's circumstances, the falling away of not be pacified without a promise of correstrusted friends, and the dishonour thrown pondence; young gentlemen who did everyupon his name, were calamities which he thing but offer me their hands, and, amongst met with apparent fortitude, but at the ex- the rest, wrote for a letter of advice every pense of his life. Beneath the skies of Italy, week, protesting that I was the only person this melancholy event was communicated to who had power to influence their lives; behis children, who were then too distant to sides the whole community to supply with return, with any hope of being able to per- keepsakes, tokens of affection, and what not. form the last sad duties of affection: nor was Resources I had none, and my brother's libit, until wearied with our continental ram- erallty was the last I would willingly have bles, and wishing for more settled habits, encroached upon; so that notwithstanding that we bid adieu to the shores of France, and the comforts of his home, which I was often sailed for oul native country; where a home, pressed to regard as my own, I lost all forsuppfied with all the comforts, and embel- titude to behold my three letters every mornlished with many of the elegances of life, was ing, to draw upon him for the constant hire prepared for our reception-a home that was of carriages and other expenses attendant no home to me; for there is something in upon the social life I was leading, and dedependence upon others, in being an useless ternrrined to seek a residence where I could attachment to a family of which you are not economise and live more privately. by right a member, which drives the heart I had, or believed I had, innumerable out of doors, however comfortably the per- friends, and I now resolved to favour them son may be provided for. During the sea- with some of those long visits which they son of visiting and receiving visitors, I was, had so often solicited. What I am about to however, very much at ease on the score of relate of these friends may appear to militate 108 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. against that benevolence and good-will which sensible of my own forlorn and unprotected long experience has taught me to believe situation. I could not feel that Grahame does really exist amongst mankind, and was my brother. I could not attain the art which it would be both unjust and ungrate- which the Greek philosopher esteemed more ful in me to attach with doubt or suspicion. highly than that of memory-the art of forIt is my firm conviction that a great deal of getting. personal kindness may be found in the world,' People reason superficially, when they talk and those who complain of the contrary about the prudence or imprudence of our achave, surely, never looked for it in a right tions. They see the surface only, and know spirit. For my own part I have little doubt not what lies beneath, which we, who have that more than one family would willingly been plunged into deep waters, may be strughave taken upon themselves the entire charge gling to escape from. They perceive not the of my maintenance, that many would have bright vision in the distance, which lures us freely ministered to my necessities, out of on-they feel not the thorns under our feet, their own means, that all were kinder to me nor know the hidden snares of a path where than I deserved, and that the distressing cir- flowers have been scattered. cumstances in which I was involved, were With a heavy heart, I left my sister, to try not owing so much to any fault of theirs as my fortune on the precarious footing of that to my own mistaken views of human life, affection which had risen up, and been nurand that which ought to be our chief object tured under the sun of prosperity. My first in journeying through it. attempt was made upon the heart of a very One of the greatest inconveniences arising early friend, to whom I had written, stating from a multitude of friends, is that of being the pleasure I intended doing myself and her. the recipient of advice from them all; so that She received me with kindness, it is true, but a soul of adamant alone can remain unsha- wishing to be quite candid, told me, when it ken in its determination, while subject to the was too late, that I had fixed upon the very influence of opinions so various and contend- time when she was unavoidably most ening. On the present occasion, as well as on gaged. However, she would make no stranall others, in which I was called upon to act, ger of me. I begged she would not, and asmy friends poured in upon my attention their sured her, I had no objection to be left alone. different sentiments respecting the steps I This lady was a rigid disciplinarian; I bewas about to take. I listened, consulted, and lieve a good woman, but certainly one who listened again. Each night undid what the would never heal a broken heart. Her pleaday had done, and the comments of the sure, (I will not say her pride,) was in rectimorning undermined the convictions of the fying abuses, dragging hidden things to night. But there were moving springs light, and making the world go her own way. within my own heart, which my friends were I had thought her severe even when we unable to take into account. Independently shared the gladsome days of girlish glee toof pecuniary considerations; there were gether; but an unusually plain person, and melancholy associations attached to my sis- forbidding manners having repelled many of ter's home, which I should have been sorry, her associates, her temper had become soured had any one possessed the penetration to by the absence of those mutual kind offices discover. which sweeten life, and soften down its rugThat woman must have an undisciplined ged passages. mind, indeed, who can harbour for the bus- Miss Sharpe was sparing in all personal band of another, one thought that militates indulgences, and strenuously recommended against her happiness; but I own, I could others to be the same; a piece of advice not contemplate the domestic scene at my which she assisted them to adopt by excludsister's fire-side, without being made doubly ing all temptations frc,m her domestic estab THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 109 lishment. Still she was kind; and, in the turn the bitter and unwelcome tide into midst of her hard fare and home-dealig, channels where it is more needed?-a slight would press upon me the welcome of the touch of Christian charity withdraw it from heart, and urge my remaining with her, for the low places already deluged by the waters reasons peculiar to herself'; because she had of affliction? great hopes of being able to do me good, by Although Miss Sharpe professed to love beating off all the superfluities of my cha- candour above every thing, I observed that racter, and reducing me to the measure of few people were candid with her; and therethat narrow space, which she took good care fore determined to try the experiment of reI should not forget was allotted to me in the turning the compliment. It was always paincreation. ful to me to dwell upon the failings of my I have often thought the power of sympa- friends, either to themselves or to others; so thy extended far beyond the opportunity of I ventured warily, and with great delicacy, expressing it, else why that mysterious at- to hint at the beauty of gentleness of mantraction between individuals who know little ners; but no sooner was the hint understood, of each other's real character. Even within than a storm burst forth for which I was litthe guarded circle of Miss Sharpe's associ- tie prepared, and, in the rage of the moment, ates I found some to whom I could confide harsh things were said that would have my thoughts, and many more who trusted driven a spirit, even more subdued than mine, theirs to me; but in these moments of social to seek shelter elsewhere. I believe my intercourse I was watched with such a scru- friend was sorry afterwards that she had tinizing eye, that the pleasure was hardly compelled me to leave her before the work worth the price paid for it;-I sometimes of reformation was completed. I have no talked too much, at other times too little, al- doubt that her endeavours were kindly inways said something that would have been tended to promote my good, but her remebetter unsaid; and so invariably acted unbe- dies were too severe for my constitution, and comingly, that I was tempted to call in ques- I left her with the conviction more than ever tion the real regard of my friend, for one impressed upon my mind, that it is impossiwhose conduct and manners afforded her so ble to love those who will not let us have a little satisfaction. I was then told it was single fault-just as impossible as to thank wounded vanity that made me doubt her af- the doctor who declares his determination to fection; that I had lived so much on flattery follow up the application of probe, caustic, I could not bear to hear the truth, and that and bitter draught, until every constitutional my friend had always thought me exceed- malady, even the lameness with which we ingly vain. I could not but wonder why this were born, shall be removed. wholesome intelligence had never been com- My next experiment was made upon a municated to me before. Alas! the season safer, though less rocky foundation. Mrs. of adversity is too often made choice of for Frank Burton was a lady whom I had formthe telling of home truths, and the correction erly known as a lively, handsome, and alof faults that were willingly borne with in most fascinating country belle; with bright our prosperous days. How is it that the black hair, dark eyes, round face, and never world performs so much more faithfully its fading bloom. She had been a celebrated stern duties to the poor than to the rich? horsewoman, a loud random talker, and That those who have not one worldly wish something of a coquette; and I felt a good ungratified, feel themselves called upon to deal of curiosity to know what sort of figure preach patience and humility to the fallen, she would make when adorned with matronwhile they fail to whisper a word of censure ly honours. There was but one kind of to those who are above them? Would not character which Mrs. Burton could be-a a slight effort of moral courage sometimes saucy affectionate wife, a foolishly indulgent 110 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. mother, and a warm-hearted, active, bustling, sent for to see the lady, and try whether he hospitable, mistress of a house. Her easy would be quiet in her arms! but this experidoating husband, well satisfied to have se- ment proving decidedly to the disadvantage cured a treasure for which so many sighed of the little rebel, he was snatched away, in vain, smiled with ineffable complacen- and I was then hurried up stairs, where innucy at her boisterous volubility, and would merable empty drawers, closets, and shelves hardly have purchased the entire posses- were exposed for my accommodation, and sion, either of his dignity or his repose, with other preparations for a long visit, made the sacrifice of her pretty pets, and becom- sufficiently apparent to destroy all doubts, ing frowns, which he well knew would soon could any have existed, of the reality of my give place to smiles more lovely, and en- welcome; and a long visit I inwardly dedearments more winning. termined it should be when my kind hostess Mrs. Burton was not the woman to wait had left me, and I looked out upon the parkuntil her guest had been shown up stairs be- like green before the house, where dogs and fore she yielded to the impulse of hospitality. children gambolled in unconstrained enjoyThe farthest gate between two prodigious ment. On turning round, my senses were jaw bones at the extremity of an avenue of forcibly saluted by that which proved to be poplars was thrown open, the groom was in an omen of good things to come. Such a readiness for the horse, and the master and dinner! none but stout gentlemen with white mistress both stood upon the step before the napkins tucked into their button-holes, should door, smiling their hearty welcome; while sit down to such a meal as was spread bealternately wrapped in the wide folds of the fore us every day at one o'clock. The aftermatron's skirts, or peeping past her apron, noon was the thing we did not know what to where three little merry looking creatures do with: for Mrs. Burton having enforced with cherry cheeks, and pouting lips for ever by example as well as precept, the necessity moistened by the honey dew of their mother's of tasting every dish, was neither so lively confectionary. My friend received me with nor so good humoured, as in the earlier part an embrace so warm and cordial, that I of the day; and consequently the children trembled for the derangement of her yellow were very naughty children indeed. One head-dress, and the profusion of laces and had to be chastised, another forbid to play, ribbons freshly distributed over her stout and and the frequent slaps, scoldings, and natural comely person. But I soon found she was explosions of juvenile rebellion, drove the used to this kind of thing, and would care quiet husband out of doors, a circumstance little for the destruction of her best wreath which neither added to, nor took away from of red roses, if the work of mischief were our enjoyment. but wrought by an impulse of affection; nor After such fatiguing afternoons, an early was she so far removed from the stage of tea was generally thought the most desirainfancy, but that a kind kiss would alleviate, ble consummation, and then the board was if it did not entirely remove all her griev- again covered with such a profusion of ances, and make peace for the most daring sweets, niceties, relishes, and temptations to offender. eat, that I could but wonder how the chilI was soon asked into a spacious and hand- dren, whose inordinate demands it wonld some dining-room, where two or three lazy have been deemed the height of cruelty to pointers were kicked up from the hearth rug, refuse, could possibly retain their glowing and an old favourite cat encouraged to re- cheeks and fine healthy complexion; but conmain. Here a hundred kind questions were stant exercise in the open air is a wonderasked me, which I was not allowed time to working power, and these little revellers answer, wine and the richest of all rich rushed forth again into the garden, the orcakes pressed upon me, and the dear baby chard, and the fields, determined to wander THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 111 far and wide from home, because they knew and moving about from place to place, inthe hour would not be long in coming, when volved me either in a great deal of expense, they would be severally hunted, caught, and or a great deal of meanness. To please my put to bed, he who was the best runner, last friend, however, as a duty I owed in return of course. for her hospitality, I dressed myself in the It was with regret I discovered, even on manner which I doubted not she would think the first day of my visit, that Mrs. Burton most becoming, with a variety of colours, was not a woman to sit down with on the still- and the display of my most costly ornaments; ness of evening. I had calculated upon and her raptures on my first entering the reading a great deal to beguile the monotony drawing room, where she was still busy arof my life in the country, and for this pur- ranging the furniture and dusting the manpose, had brought my own books, not ex- tel-piece, fully repaid me for the violence I pecting much from the library of Mr. Frank had done to my natural taste. Burton: but my friend so often interrupted The guests arrived at an early hour, me with exclamations foreign to the subject, while the afternoon sun was yet shining hot was so exceedingly inattentive when I read upon the flower-beds. I stood at the window aloud, and yawned so desperately when I watching them alight, and, when a spruce was silent for ten minutes, that I found even young man rode up on a high-mettled hunhere, where one would have almost felt at ter, my friend gave me a smart pinch upon liberty to do or to be any thing, it was neces- the arm, before she turned round to receive sary I should set aside my own gratification the first motley group of visitors. I thought and endeavour to be more generally agree- this evening would surely be the dullest of able. Mrs. Burton, with all her kindness, my life, and had almost resigned every hope was a plain spoken woman, and scrupled not of exerting myself to any purpose, when perto tell me she was disappointed that I did ceiving the great deference paid to my apnot let her more into what had been going pearance, I began to increase in self-imporon in the world since we parted. "Tell tance, and this sensation being by no means me," said she, "some droll stories about an unpleasant one, my good humour inthose odd people, the Prinkets. By the bye, creased also, and I benevolently resolved to has the old maid with the pink nose had an turn that importance to the advantage of the offer yet? Or did any one ever come at the company. At this gracious moment, my bottom of that mystery about the coachman? promised beau made his appearance. He And the poor little man that used to peep looked at me and scarcely at any thing else; out of his high window whenever the dogs nor was I averse to look again when I heard barked? But, never mind now, I have a him announced as Mr. Burton, of whom I whole boiling of preserves to tie down before had often heard, as the eldest brother of the the folks come. Only just think! and then I family, and the wealthy proprietor of a handhave to dress. Let me give you a hint some estate, much in want of a lady wife to this afternoon, Cary, to make the best of grace his establishment. From him my atyourself. I have a beau for you." And she tention was quickly diverted by the face of left the room with a knowing wink that spoke my worthy little friend, twitched all over great things for my future settlement. into meaning, while she presented me to her For my own part, I was far from being brother, for there was no opportunity of saysolicitous about any beau that this good wo- ing audibly, " This is the lady I have so often manmightprovide fbr me, although few people recommended." could be more in want than I was of a settled The brother was a decided improvement home; for I was entirely without resources, upon Mr. Frank Burton. He really had some except what my brother's bounty supplied, notion of books, and had made himself so well 112 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. acquainted with the history of his own estate summer's morning was not the best time for that he could talk about Roman roads and riding, and his sister's early tea afforded us the Roman method of constructing walls. a much more interesting opportunity of amAlas! that refinement should spoil half bling through the lanes; sometimes while our pleasures, while it makes us but a poor the lengthened shadows lay in cool relief recompense by purifying the other half until upon the ground, and, sometimes, when the they are too exquisite to last! moon was shining through the silvery mists Spurred on by the vanity of being the star of twilight. How often did I wish, during of this evening, I laid aside all the refinement these excursions, that my kind companion I could spare without loathing myself, and would be willing to remain silent, and just was' hale fellow well met,' with all the stout keep a little way behind, or that I could close matrons, country damsels, old squires and my eyes to his plebeian person, and my ears young bucks, who drank their dozen cups to his coarse brogue. With what satisfacof tea, eat their proportion of plum-cake, tion could I then have looked from the hill talked scandal, and played cards at Mrs. where he took me to obtain a distant view of Burton's party. It was, for aught I know, a the domain which he was proud to call his, pleasant evening to all the other guests-to and with what fondness might I have came it was not. ressed the faithful animal which he was On the following morning, while my friend pleased to call mine. was occupied as usual in her domestic tur- When a man gives you his horse it has a moils, greatly increased on this occasion by serious sound; and the woman who does the eating and drinking of the preceding day, not wish an offer of himself to follow, would I was seated alone, and, while lost in a kind do well to ride no more. It would certainly of reverie composed of floating pictures of have been one of the last of my wishes that my own future fate, and indefinite specula- Mr. Burton should present his large hand to tions as to the real character of this Mr. Bur- me, and yet I rode out with him again ton, how he would be likely to acquit him- and again, helping out his few ideas with so self at the head of his own table, and many many of my own, and supplying him with other strange thoughts for a stranger as I words when at a loss, as if from the very was then,-the man himself appeared, and sympathy of my mind, that we did vastly accosted me with the familiarity of an old well together, and he at least was perfectly acquaintance. He said his man had brought satisfied; for my habitual mode of appearalong with him a capital lady's nag, and if I ing pleased left him little room to doubt that was fond of riding it should be saddled im- I was so with him. I was living too amongst mediately. I looked out, the sun was bright, those who looked upon him as a sort of suthe atmosphere fresh and invigorating; I perior being, and I sometimes questioned consented, and we set off for a long morn- whether I should not be more fastidious than ing's ride. wise to throw away an opportunity of makThe man who wishes to make interest ing what his sister was pleased to call a with a woman, does well to lend her a good'fine catch.' horse and accompany her through green Amongst the many arts which I had lanes and woody slopes, where the tramp- learned in my intercourse with the world, ling of the hoofs is scarcely heard upon the was that of warding off, or bringing on an soft turf. Whatever affords us real pleasure offer of marriage, with so muth tact and deliwe are disposed to like, and he transition cacy, that none but the most penetrating, or from the animal to its master is not so great the most ill-natured could accuse me of design. but that a kind and grateful heart may On the present occasion however, I had to sometimes be induced to make it. contend with so strong a determination to Mr. Burton and I soon discovered that a that fatal point, that I found I mqust either give THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 1113 up my pleasant ambling altogether, involve friendship, She was, however, a very demyself in a very disagreeable dilemma, or sirable sort of person to keep on good terms leave the hospitable roof of the BiUrtans, with, for those who wished to catch, now where I was at least sure of a heartfelt and and then, a glimpse at what is called good genuine welcome: nor was it until I resolved society, and were willing to sacrifice the upon this last alternative, that I felt the warm comfort of the heart for this uncertain strong hold these cheerful and unpretending privilege. people had upon my regard. By adopting Mr. Arundel was pleased to send his cartheir habits, and laying before them my riage to accommodate me, for which I more extensive knowledge of facts and per- should have been more thankful could he sons (and they wanted nothing more) I had have compelled his coachman to look become a general favourite, and had good pleased: but there is something in the serreason to believe that the early and late par- vices which the domestics of the wealthy ties of Mrs. Frank Burton had never been render to their poor friends and poor relaso brilliant before. tions, which makes them, to the receiver, I had not at first quite understood what any thing but agreeable obligations. On people of vulgar and empty minds are most alighting at the door of my new domicile, I in want of for amusement, but I was per- was greeted with no kindly welcome. A fectiy initiated now, and could peck at the pert looking woman showed me up stairs to imperfections of my superiors, laugh at my own room, where I was left to myself round backs and crooked noses, wonder with the consoling information that the bell whether those who were better dressed than would ring for dinner in the course of an myself had paid their Christmas bills, set hour. Dinner I I had ridden ten miles after down all methodists for hypocrites, interlard having partaken of an early tea. But there my conversation -With a little country slang, was no need to expose my late barbarism. and, finally, fill up the chapter of folly by I had only to prepare for one of Mrs. Burridiculing what I did not understand. ton's hot suppers, and, like many other exThus had my time been spent; and, be- treme cases about which so much wonder cause thus spending it, had obtained for me and alarm is expressed, there would be little unbounded admiration, I felt some regret at difference except in name. taking leave of my friend Mrs. Burton, and Before half an hour had expired, Mrs. receiving the tenderest adieus of her wealthy Arundel was graciously pleased to send her brother, which, however, he kindly promised own woman to assist me in performing the with a look intended to be expressive, should duties of my toilet, thus conveying the first not be for ever. intimation that she was conscious of my arrival; nor was it with gratitude at all proportioned to the favour that I accepted the services of Mrs. James, whose little sharp eyes seemed to flash and peep about, penetrating through my ill-stocked wardrobe with most CHAPTER IX. unfeeling scrutiny. " To spy out the nakedness of the land," has this woman come, FROM tne hospitable home of the Bur- thought I, but I submitted myself to the tons I made a sudden and almost startling magic of her pliant fingers, as the only transition to the residence of my most aris- chance I had of appearing in such a manner tocratie friend-perhaps I ought rather to as would not make me wish myself up stairs say my acquaintance, for Mrs. Arundel had again aftet I had been seated at table. never possessed enough of the milk of htU- Once during this tedious operation I man kindness to sweeten our ntercourse intd opened my lips, and ventured to ask if Mrs. 114 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. Arundel had any visitors at present staying All this while my friend was studying in a in the house. tall mirror, her face, her figure, her attitudes, " Oh! yes," replied the woman, with a look all that could be studied without the countersuited to the importance of her information. part upon whom these charms were to be " Lady Moira and Sir Charles have been played off. Sometimes her head was tossed here some time."' backwards so as to create a sudden tremAching, as T was, from head to foot with bling and glittering amongst the glossy curls curiosity, no less than with the various -sometimes a scarf was carefully placed as twitchings and maltreatment of my tormen- if in the act of falling or just caught up by tor, I still could not bring myself to ask who the soft and snowy arm-and sometimes a these illustrious* visitors were; whether the glance was thrown over the graceful shoulder gentleman was young or old; nor whether to ascertain whether the Grecian bend of the his relationship to the lady was filial or con- back was made sufficiently evident to all adnubial. The woman looked so impertinently mirers'~ I thought my labours at the toilet solicitous to enlighten my ignorance, that I that day had been unparalleled, but they determined to receive no further information were nothing to those of my friend, and she from her, and drawing down a curl to hide was a married woman! the worst part of my forehead, where an "What can be the meaning of this munifembryo wrinkle was threatening to mar its icence of charms?" thought I: " The huspolished smoothness, and casting one linger- band has always been represented to me as ing look of satisfaction towards the mirror, I the very personification of insignificance; and followed her to receive my long-expected wel- surely married ladies are not solicitous to come, in the dressing-room of Mrs. Arundel. charm elsewhere." "Only think, my dear!" she exclaimed, Sir Charles Moira, young, handsome, acafter an embrace, which I could well have complished, and graceful, was insignificant done without; " Lady Moira and Sir Charles too; every one was insignificant when comhere! Well, I dare say they will not frighten pared with Lady Moira. She was still beauyou away. You will find them the best peo- tiful, though in the meridian of life. Her pie in the world to do with, if you can but be dress was that of' a nreurner, though not of natural and easy with them-so happy to- the deepest shade; but it needed no peculiar gether, it is really quite delightful to see a costume to indicate that the widow's grief mother and son so united. I often wish had not outlived her weeds. A profusion of Arundel would take a lesson of politeness light flowing hair mingled with the sable from Sir Charles. There is nothing so cap- honours of her brow; and when she smiled, tivating in private life." it was with the gracious condescension of I ventured to remark that Mr. Arundel one who is so rich in happiness, and liberal had once been admired for his politeness. of favours, that she can dispense them to all "Ah! a fiddle-faddling way that he has, without suffering any diminution. There which nobody cares for. That is not what I was something in her whole appearance so mean. I mean something that makes you incomparably magnificent, that when she feel handsome, and good-humoured, and as first entered the room I could not help comif every one liked you, without a word being paring her to a richly-freighted vessel in full said directly to the point, and when you sail, and myself, with the rest of the company, know thlat it is not so." to little boats and small craft, thrown back "Sir Charles must be very clever." upon the foam of the receding waves. "No, not so clever either in the way of I had never heard of Lady Moira before reading, or politics, or any thing of that kind; this day. Her sphere of existence had been, but just the sort of man to make a woman and must ever be distinct from mine; yet happy;" and she sighed. such is the mysterious influence of that THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 115 which mankind have agreed to call good- Lady Moira was a charming performer on breeding, that in an instant I was awed into the harp, with which, however, she was but admiration, and employed my mind almost seldom pleased to throw her audience into entirely in wishing everything unsaid and ecstacies; but she had graciously chosen out undone that would not give pleasure to Lady one morning a favourite Italian air, which Moira. She had evidently found other minds Sir Charles accompanied with his voice, equally subvervient. Her wishes had been while I acted the enraptured with all my anticipated, her will obeyed on the slightest might, when a bustle was heard in the hall, a intimation. Adulation had been perpetually loud voice, alas! too easily recognised, and breathed into her ear; and to obviate the Mrs. Burton accompanied by her brother, doubts that might sometimes arise respect- were ushered in, as having called to see Miss ing her sanctification in the world to come, Irvine. In vain had the servant opened the she was dignified with her apotheosis in this. door of another apartment; Mrs. Burton had Sir Charles, the most skilful and accom- heard music, and music she declared was plished flatterer, had practised upon his mo- her passion. ther's credulity since the days of infancy, With my wonted self-possession, never and she had bountifully repaid him in the more severely put to the test than on this ocsame coin; so that whatever either might re- casion, I advanced to meet the unwelcome quire of the other (and they sometimes re- intruders, hoping, by a closer encounter to quired a great deal) was brought about by quiet the exclamations of this boisterous such circumlocution and studied sweetness, little woman. But no; she had been that it might truly be said, "the paltry prize completely broiled; the horses' fetlocks was hardly worth the cost." buried in dust all the way-did not think With this interesting couple I- now plied it had been so far, or would not have come my ready skill to please, by arts adapted to only to see about a loin of veal; " for people their taste; but I soon found, that however tell me," said she, " the butchers here keep I might congratulate myself upon the suc- better veal than down yonder, where we live. cess of my endeavours, I was not at all con- Tom rode so fast, too,-in haste poor fellow." gratulated by Mrs. Arundel, who had never She added in an under-tone, with a nod and dreamed of finding in her poor friend a de- a wink; " and then this habit; do you know, lightful companion, a charming girl, a dear Cary, I have never had a habit on since little entertaining creature, as I was perpetually Peter was born-bless the boy!" And then called, with even warmer encomiums upon she applied her handkerchief to her face, the agreeable addition of my society to their and untied her bonnet, exhaling all the while previously happy little circle. long and audible breathings, which must, I It is a severe test of love to find our friends thought, extend to the other side of the room decidedly preferred before us, just when we where Lady Moira and Sir Charles were had been hoping to obtain favour; and Mrs. seated, vainly endeavouring to look absorbed Arundel could not conceal from observation, in the Italian music. that the green-eyed monster may shoot his Mrs. Arundel had now herhour of triumph; envenomed dart, even where connubial feli- and I marked the inward satisfaction with city is not concerned. Paying as little re- which she smiled at my dilemma; while, gard as I possibly could to the frequent determined that I should not escape without splenetic insinuations with which this mon- smarting to the very bone, she entered into a ster inspired the lady of the house, I was en- lively conversation with Mrs. Burton, in which joying a season of almost uninterrupted the honest-hearted woman did not detect the triumph, when, on one ever-memorable day, snare, but rattled on with long histories about my newly-acquired honours were brought her poultry, and the poultry of her neighlow, and miserably soiled in the dust. bours, her children, and all the odd things 28 116 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. that were constantly happening in her estab- meaning, when you rode about with me in lishnlent.. the lanes down yonder." My swain had the good sense to be silent " I understood that you were kind enough while he sat behind the door with his hat to lend me a horse.g' held between his knees, in his bare red "Oh, yes! and I will always be kind to hiand, gloveless, and swollen with the sum- you, Miss Cary." mer's heat. Finding it woulid not do to speak of kind"I thought I heard music," Mrs. Burton ness, and hating to be thus reminded of my exclaimed. " Pray go on, ma'am; pray go past folly, while the music Sir Charles had on, sir," to Lady Moira and Sir Charles. just been singing lay open before me, I re"There's nothing I delight in like music. peated my unsavoury words, with an emLaw, Cary, do you know what has happened phasis so strongly marked with impatience to Burton's fiddle?" and she indulged her- and contempt, that my quondam admirer lost self for one moment with a sort of internal his temper, and with it the little propriety of chuckle, the constant prelude to her favourite conduct which alone had rendered hitn tolestories, of which, in all companies I was ap- rable. prehensive. " I see what you are aiming at," said he,' Well, you must know, I was reaching up with the most insulting rudeness: " Sir for a pot of orange-jam, (Frank always likes Charles has a pretty income, to be sure, but orange-jam at his tea; and little Peter, bless what is that to people who live as he does? the boy! has just begun to eat marmalade;) I'll tell you what, Miss; you'll not soon meet -well, as I was saying about the jam, my with another man to lay an estate like mine foot slipped, and plump I went down into the before you, all in a ring fence, with plenty fiddle! It was well I was no worse; but I of game for your dainty appetite; but you'll believe if I had broke my leg I must have rue the day yet, when you see another MArs. laughed, as I walked out with the fiddle on Burton, which you shall before you've made my foot like a patten." And she showed sure of Sir Charles;" and so saying he us how long and loud she could laugh, even walked off, closing the door after him, with a at the remembrance of the catastrophe. thundering sound that brought the domesLady Moira and Sir Charles, after ex- ties startled and tittering from the servants' changing glances, now left the room, and to hall. my unspeakable relief Mrs. Arundel quickly The scene being now completely over, I followed. Mrs. Burton then rose, and mak- felt really glad that it had been no worse, ing some excuse about shopping, departed conscious as I was that the inconsistency of also, leaving my smirking beau as he thought, my late behaviour deserved, if possible, a master of the field. punishment more severe: nor could I behold Seeing from the expression of his face, from my window Mrs. Burton and her browhat was likely to be the business in hand, ther trotting out of town in high dudgeon, and thinking the sooner it was brought for- with the butcher's boy and loin of veal a very ward and discussed the better, I sat very little way behind, while neither of their heads silent, during the infliction of a formal offer were turned to give a parting nod, without of marriage from this man, who seemed feeling that I had richly merited to lose my very much disposed to doubt his senses, place in their regard. when it was followed up by an answer as It is almost impossible to lose the love we formal and decided from me. once possessed, without a melancholy sense "' Why, what can have changed you q" he that something has been taken away from exclaimed, when I persisted in my refusal. us, although it might not, while it lasted, be "I am sure you must have understood my of any real value. Mrs. Burton was a warm THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 117 hearted, well-meaning creature, and had was wished for by the lady of the house. I loved me better, perhaps, than many whose was besides in considerable difficulty about affection I had been more solicitous to ob- where to go next, and the fact of seeing no tain. She was now, in all probability, struck shelter for our heads in any other place, has off from my list of friends, offended, perhaps a great tendency to reconcile our remaining wounded. She must think me ungrateful, where we are. and I had the misery of reflecting that she Impossible as it was, on first entering the might think so with perfect truth. Every house of Mr. Arundel, to believe that the loss we experience makes us pause and ex- master of it, or rather he who should have amine what is left; and I turned upon my been the master, could ever be an object of own heart to see what stores I had yet to interest, I found, during a very short stay, draw upon for satisfaction. Under present that pity has the power to metamorphose the circumstances, I had indeed no wish to call character, and invest even the person with Mrs. Burton back, but this simple affair, so attractions that were never dreamed of belaughable to others, plunged me into a train fore. This spell was put in force. Long of gloomy reflections, against the sadness and intimately as I had been acquainted of which I was unprovided with any kind of with the world, and low as I had bent myantidote, self beneath its influence, I had not acquired I had now been living for a long time all its bad habits, most certainly not that of amongst those who thought religion an un- trampling on the fallen. My delight was necessary burden to take up, so long as life often to take part with the weak, whether could be made pleasant without it; and as I the strife in which they were engaged was made it my business to fill in with the senti- right or wrong; and in this spirit I never ments of those around me, I was but too failed to throw in a word on behalf of the ready to treat religion with as little regard helpless husband, when I thought him in as they did. The inevitable consequence danger of being borne down by his wife's was, that my mind was more empty than authority. I believe the little gentleman had ever of any kind of consolation, that I was never experienced so much consideration beless prepared for the rough accidents of life, fore, and his unbounded thankfulness was and, worst of all, that I was rapidly receding expressed by from that heavenly goal to which the only, thed mle, 4 Nods, and bWCks, and wreathed smiles,' hope that never fails us is directed. The circumstance which had cost me the which were carefully watched and regisloss of an old friend, was never alluded to tered by one who seemed determined to torby Lady Moira or Sir Charles: so much ment herself, as well as'others. I even went does politeness wear the character of real so far as to enter into close conference with kindness; but Mrs. Arundel was unsparing him about his plants, his hot-house, and all in her ridicule, and quoted poor Mrs. Burton his hobbies, upon which he had never been on every possible occasion, wondering oftener able to persuade his wife to ride, but which, than the day where I could have gathered now that she saw me earnestly engaged up such people, while I could call to mind, with, she appeared to think most interesting without much difficulty, the time when such subjects of consideration; expressing her inpeople were not entirely excluded from her dignation in no gentle terms, that so much own sphere of existence. should be planned and undertaken without To my new friends I felt unspeakable consulting her. gratitude for their forbearance; and had it I was glad to find the worthy man rising not been for the fascination of their society, I in importance, though at the expense of my should have wisely left my present abode, own comfort; and he was glad to find, for where it was in vain to flatter myelf that I the first time in his life, that however Mrs. 118 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. Arundel might slight or undervalue his at- had, however, some satisfaction in thinking tentions, he still had the power to pique her that Mr. and Mrs. Arundel were more united by bestowing them elsewhere. than I had found them. The husband well I had lately observed, that in the midst pleased that he had sufficient power to torof some of Lady Moira's warmest expressions ment his wife with jealousy, the wife conof regard, her countenance had lowered on vinced by the late fears she had entertained the approach of her son, and that he too, in of losing the affections of her husband, that the absence of his mother, was much more those affections were worth retaining. solicitous to please, and more evidently pleased. He had a friend, daring and dissipated, whose unscrupulous frankness let me into the secret of Lady Moira's terrors lest her son should form a connexion with any CHAPTER X. one unequal to himself in rank. Confusion was now thickening around me. Contending FORTUNATELY for me, before the wrath of interests seemed ready to burst in a storm Mrs. Arundel had reached its height, I reupon my head. What was to be done? I ceived a very pressing invitation from a had no adviser, and my own heart had too worthy family of methodists, who lived in often been a treacherous counse lor, to be some degree of affluence in a pleasant situatrusted to with any confidence th t it would tion, not many miles distant. To them I lead me right, or even extricate m from pre- went with all my humiliations on my head, sent difficulties; for this was m re spec and with my thoughts disturbed and confused cally my object than to act with a single eye by the late cruel occurrences which had to what was right. Si — Charles ad become driven me to take advantage of their hospimore pointed in his attentions and Lady tality. But they were simple-hearted, quiet Moira, in the same proportion, mo e cold and people, who did not examine the human mind, haughty. She was even close d in close or any thing else very deeply, and so long as consultation with Mrs. A-undel and that I appeared comfortable, and spoke cheerfully, woman's case is hopeless wi has none but they had no apprehensions about what I men to take her part. Every day I made might be feeling. some faint determination that I would leave Susan Penrose, the only daughter, posthese troubled spirits, but my dete minations sessed more penetration than her parents, served no other purpose than to draw forth and perceiving that I was not quite so happy from Sir Charles his deep regrets, and deeper as a Christian ought to be, undertook with sighs, and protestations as earnest as words all the candour of her guileless heart, and could make them, that it was impossible to the zeal of her profession, to make me hapbe happy without me. At last the storm pier by making me better. Susan's characburst. The jealousy of Mrs. Arundel was ter was one which it was impossible to know wrought up to the crisis of explosion, on without respecting. She had not enjoyed a finding that I had one day been two hours liberal education, but religion had done all in the conservatory with her husband. I for her that was wanted-had refined her was abruptly dismissed, with a slight impu- feelings, and elevated her thoughts, supplytation on my character, and the married cou- ing her with that dignity which unfailing ple were better pleased with themselves and rectitude imparts, and that grace which is each other than they had ever been before. acquired in the constant performance of virI was the luckless scape-goat, who had been tuous actions. I could not live beneath the played upon for their own purposes; and same roof with this estimable being, without having no one to defend my cause, I bore feeling fearfully conscious of my own littlethe blame, as the unprotected mostly do. I ness, and I wished, earnestly wished, that I THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 119 could shake off the fetters by which I was ments, unadorned by that drapery which rebound, and walk as she did, firee in the light of commends it to general beholders, but at the the glorious gospel. It is true my thoughts same time conceals its real and unblemished were sometimes diverted from the serious- beauty. ness of this family, by speculations about Weary of my past life, disappointed, perwhat this person and the other might think plexed and troubled, how did I long, while of their quaint habits and homely ways; nor kneeling by the side of Susan Penrose, that was Sir Charles Moira the last whose image I could enter into the spirit of her prayers, I conjured up to place in idea beside me, and offer up my soul as I knew she was ofwhenever any thing occurred particularly fering up hers. unlike the customs of the fashionable world; " Perhaps I shall become like these happy but it was not my wont to criticise on my people in time," thought I; and I joined in own behalf, and I had seen too much of gen- their religious exercises, and listened to their eral society to be forcibly struck with what long discourses with so much gravity and inis commonly called absurdity, but which terest, half felt and half assumed, that they might frequently be more justly explained as began to speak of me and treat me like one something foreign to our own prejudices and of their own community, and I was both peculiar views, derived from a limited circle proud and pleased to be thus recognized, for of beings as absurd in their turn to others, as never in my life had I seen more clearly the others are to them. beauty of holiness. Would that my vision An intimate acquaintance with the dif- had not again been obscured! ferent classes of mankind, and the various I was seated one day with Susan beneath circumstances which develope human cha- a veranda which shaded the door and the racter, does much, and ought to do more to front windows, enjoying the softness of the make us sparing of that ridicule which fre- autumn breeze that played through the inquently arises from our ignorance, and might terstices of the clustering vine, when strange more properly be turned against ourselves. feet, and voices more strange in such a place Those who have often seen the wise act were heard advancing along the garden, and foolishly, and the fool more wise in his gene- two sportsmen issued from the shrubbery ration than the man of boasted learning, who walk. know the influence of circumstances and It was Sir Charles and his friend Jeffreys. situation in forming the character, who feel I believe I had not properly concealed the the humbling truth that virtue too often re- foolish pleasure I felt on seeing them, for tains its high standing in the world from the Susan told me afterwards with great simplimere absence of temptation, who have been city, she had no idea they had been such inaccustomed to examine their own hearts, and timate friends, or indeed that I could be intihave learned in this examination, that just mate with such. The fact was, that although so far as they have been tried they have I offered to the religious habits of this family yielded, will feel little inclination to laugh at all I could offer, my entire approbation, I had follies which are common to all; as little as been, while residing under their roof, exto set up the senseless boast, that had they tremely dull; and the appearance of the two been in certain situations they would have strangers brought back such vivid remem acted differently from others; and still less brance of lively hours enjoyed elsewhere, to triumph over those who have been tried that I was almost delighted to behold them and proved in a furnace, the fury of which again, and asked with apparent interest, a they themselves have never felt. multitude of questions on subjects which In the family of Mr. Penrose, I saw tile in- Susan, who sat by, had never before susfluence of religion in its simplest and most pected could occupy my thoughts. Once or substantial form, ungraced by factitious orna- twice I saw her grave face turned towards ;20 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. me with an expression of perfect amazement, ing the enviable situation I had lately enjoyed while I rattled on with these idle creatures, was the subject of Susan's thoughts. chiding them occasionally for their extrava- "I wonder you were not weary," she obgance, but laughing all the while, as ladies served, and my triumph was at an end. will laugh sometimes when they ought not. The next visit of the sportsmen was later Sir Charles, escaped from maternal in- in the day. Dark clouds were gathering fluence, was more easy and delightful than I around, and the wind, blowing in fitful gusts, had ever seen him before, and Jeffreys was had driven us all to seek shelter within doors. always entertaining and good-humoured. We were quietly seated together in a parHow was it that Susan never smiled at his lour by no means resembling Mr. Arundel's jokes?-she must be the most insensible of drawing-room, good Mrs. Penrose carefully women. And why had she put on that close darning her husband's stockings, when the cap? and why had she chosen this morning, two gentlemen, running to escape the first of all others, to look less refined than usual? pelting of a thunder-storm, rushed into the The case was an easy one to understand. I hall with boisterous mirth. was now l(oking through a different atmos- "Your friends are come again," said phere; for my atmosphere always took its Susan; and, under present circumstances, I peculiar tone of colouring from those who really felt less hope than fear that her words ruled my thoughts for the time being. I had were true. not the power to see any object in a clear Again every thing was transfigured before and steady point of view; but, borrowing my eyes. The parlour in an instant became lights and shades from all the fluctuating cir- more gloomy, the carpet more gray, the few cumstances of life, my ideas, even of right books that lay about more soiled and more and wrong, were unsettled and confused. ultra-religious, and certainly Mrs. Penrose " "Well, this is Arcadia indeed!" said Sir was more fat and lame than she had ever Charles, as he took his seat beside me, and been before. I saw no longer with my own I had the mortification of seeing Jeffreys edge eyes, nor heard with my own ears; but, idenhimself in beside Susan with a look too tifying myself as it were with the intruders, plainly indicating his intention to quiz the their senses became the medium through fair methodist. But it was impossible to which every impression reached me. Just make game of Susan. Her calm dignity in the same way that, after having passionpreserved her from insult, and, when she rose ately admired some book, we take it up to and walked into the house, I felt ashamed of read again with a friend whose tone of feelbeing identified with those whose imperti- ing is essentially different from our own. nence had driven her away. I soon forgot, When, behold! the book is not the same. however, in the light pleasantry of my com- It has faults we never perceived before, and panions, that there was anything in th6eworld those passages which we know our friend worth thinking of but sunshine, good-hu- will condemn, stand forth in such glaring and mour, and Sir Charles: and, when the sports- conspicuous light, that we lay the whole men rose to wish me good morning, I listened aside with disappointment and disgust, made with more satisfaction than wisdom to the deeper by the conviction that, since nothing gentle tone, the half-whisper, which assured can enforce the belief that the book has actme they should seek the bowers of Arcadia ually changed its character, we must submit again. to the mortification of believing our own "Were these your companions at Mr. judgment to be in fault. Arundel's " asked Susan, as we sat to- The storm which had driven the sportsgether again in the afternoon. men to make so unceremonious an advance I answered with triumph, that Sir Charles upon the hospitality of my friends, still kept was staying in the hoase all the time, think- them prisoners, and, what was worse, im THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 121 prisoned the master of the house, who threw world. I felt ashamed when he knelt down towards me many an enquiring look, which and poured forth a fervent prayer from the seemed to say, "Whom have we here?" earnest simplicity of his heart, while I ought But the afternoon was such as would have to have been reminded by the thunder rollreconciled a man, less kind-hearted than Mr. ing around us in tremendous peals, that the Penrose, to the presence of guests even more God who graciously directed us to seek his objectionable than Sir Charles and his cor- throne by prayer, is too mighty to be insulted panion, and, as evening drew on, they were with impunity. pressed to remain for the night if the storm Our visitors were evidently strangers to should not abate. such a scene. Sir Charles possessed too It requires a prodigious share of effrontery high a sense of propriety not to make some to carry on, without flagging, light senseless show of conformity; but Jeffreys, who cared conversation in the presence of a grave, mat- for nothing but the indulgence of his own ter of fact man of sense, especially if that humour, watched the entrance of the unman be the master of the house in which the couth domestics, one after another, with no scene of your folly is laid. Under almost small entertainment-holding a newspaper any other circumstances I should have re- in his hand during the whole of the simple joiced at the casualty which detained Sir and appropriate service. At last a hymn Charles as my companion for a whole even- was sung, and, to my utter confusion, Jefing; but, clever as I was at reconciling in- freys raised his voice amongst the rest, congruities, it was utterly impossible to make louder and louder, with long-trawn notes of the present time glide smoothly on; for, drawling discord, that made Susan, who while the thunder rolled above our heads, stood near me, close her lips and sing no the solemn and becoming gravity of my se- more. rious friends was strangely broken in upon One look, and only one, I ventured to diby the ill-timed jokes of Jeffreys, and the rect towards that part of the room from vivacity of Sir Charles. I could not keep whence these extraordinary sounds were ismy place with both parties, brought as they suing. * The performer stood with his head now were into close contact; and, such was thrown back, his mouth wide open, and his my weakness, that the reverence I had hith- hands spread forth in mockery of the exerto felt for the sedate habits of this family, treme of sanctimonious fervour. Sir Charles gave way, and more than once I was startled looked also-Jeffreys caught his eye, and in my merriment by the flash of the light- an explosion of laughter followed. The ning, and the deep sighs, almost amounting hymn ceased; Mr. Penrose desired his serto groans, of the master and mistress of the vants to remain;-in their presence he house. wished to show his just indignation at such The time at last arrived for evening prayer. conduct. Mr. Penrose was not the man to apologize "Young men," said he, in a commanding for the custom of worshipping his Maker at tone, " the manner in which you have chomorn and evening, and, opening his well- sen to abuse my hospitality I regard as an worn Bible, he began to read, with a loud insult to religion more than to myself, and nasal cadence that brought the blush of as such you must feel that it entitles you to shame into my face. Yes, such is the little- the severest reproof. I made you welcome ness of vanity, and the excess of human folly, to my home, not from respect, but compasthat I dared to feel ashamed that night, when sion; because I would not drive the vilest a pious man, at the head of a well-ordered miscreant from my door in such a storm. In family, called together his household, and the same way you are welcome to shelter read aloud, from the book of consolation, the your heads for the night; but, from this time glad tidings of a Savior' sent into a sinful henceforth, remember that nothing but a 122 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. change of heart can make you welcome to as we would be done by, and it is in this my house again. way that I now tell you, I think-I have Sir Charles advanced with many smooth reason to believe it would be better for you apologies, for I believe he was really sorry, to go away. Now, what do you think of but it would not do. " Say no more, me for saying such a cruel thingV" sir, don't trouble yourself," was all that Mr. "That you are a good honest-hearted Penrose would answer, except to add, that creature, Susan, as I always thought you;" the night was now advancing, and they said I, holding out my arms to her while we would find their chambers ready. They mingled our tears together. were not, however, quite humble enough for " You and I, Susan, are not fitted to live that; but while the rain was yet pouring in together in this world. Would that I could torrents, wished us good night, and went feel sure I should join your habitation in their way. the next! You know not the temptations I soon escaped to my own room, but not to which beset my path. Pray for me somesleep. Even had my reflections been of a times when I am gone." more imposing nature, I should have been "I will remember you in my supplicakept awake by the long and loud altercation tions," she replied, " every day, and oftener of Susan and her father in the room below. than the day." And after strenuously urgShe was earnestly pleading with him, and I ing me to be more decided, and more conguessed too well that I was myself the un- sistent, she then knelt down beside me, comworthy subject of her solicitude. At last I mending me to the care and protection of heard him say distinctly, as he crossed the Him "who seeth not as man seeth," and hall to the stairs- "with whom's no variablenes nor shadow of "If these are the companions that Miss turning." Irvine must draw after her, I care not how soon she leaves my house." It was long after midnight when Susan left the parlour. Her gentle step paused at my door. She opened it almost without a CHAPTER XI. sound, and, shading her candle with her hand, came and stood beside my bed. I HAD now no resource but to throw myself " Are you not asleep, Caroline," said she, upon the kindness of my Aunt Morris, and my "it is very late, or rather early." cousin Jane. They had often invited me to "No; I cannot sleep to-night; but pray pay them a visit, and though I entertained what keeps you up?" no doubt of the welcome I should receive, " I am in a great deal of trouble," said certain remembrances made me shrink from Mhe, and the tears fell fast down her cheeks the discipline with which I knew this wel-'trouble on your account." come would be embittered. There were, " Ah! Susan, you think I am a sad wicked however, some considerations connected with creature." money matters, which made it expedient for " It is not that altogether," said she, hesi- me to see them, and I determined accordingtating, and looking more and more distressed. ly. Jane Morris was my agent in the sale of "I have been thinking for three hours what a variety of specimens of fancy work, drawI ought to do, and praying that I may simply ings, and other articles of' taste, which had do what is right." formerly been so rapturously admired by my " Then discharge your duty, Susan, if it friends, and so often begged and borrowed, relates to me; and depend upon my not that I could not doubt they would soon be taking it amiss." bought. " There is no rule safer than that of doing Had my aunt still resided in my native. l i,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 123 place, I should have felt it almost impossible agoing, I did not wonder that she, who had to visit her, now when my own circumstances no judgment of her own, should have been were so completely changed. But she had willing to follow. removed to some distance, though still with- Oh! ye who love to sport with ridicule, in reach of those whose intimacy I had once and think it pleasant pastime to murder with enjoyed, and who had thus an opportunity the shafts of criticism, how often is your cruel of extending their kindness to me in the way aim directed to the stricken deer, and your that would have been most agreeable, and envenomed arrow sent into the bosom that certainly at a time when it was much was galled before! needed. How little can be known by you, whose I had often been told in happier days, days are spent in luxury and idleness, of when surrounded with all the comforts of what is felt by those who depend upon the life, that I could never want the means of mercy of your smiles for the very sustenance subsistence; that I had a fortune in my head of life! You can take up the productions of and even in my hands. The truth of these the pen or pencil, find out each petty fault, — assurances had now been put to the test, and laugh, sneer, and cast aside, while the author many an anxious and enquiring look did I or the artist: whose genius has been exhaustcast towards my cousin Jane, before I could ed, and whose sensibility tortured for your bring myself to ask what money she had in amusement, waits for his daily bread. You hand for me. can open the little volume, dedicated by the "Money!" was her hopeless reply, with lowly to the great, and stretched at ease on a a tone of astonishment, the very emptiness voluptuous couch, can peer amongst the of which sent a sudden quivering through pages, to draw forth with " critical inspecmy nerves, and an aching through my heart tion," and examine with anatomical scrutiny -"Money! I believe I have five shillings the sentiments that have been wrung out for a little cap, but really you must take your from a breaking heart. You can expatiate things away, for I am quite tired of showing with all the dignity of a judge, who pronounthem about, and as to the drawings, I cannot ces sentence of death against a criminal, get them off on any terms! People say they upon the want of light and sweetness in the are badly coloured, and quite out of perspec- picture of some lonely wretch whose life is tive. For my own part, I do not understand all shade and bitterness, and who, in atsuch matters, and therefore cannot give an tempting to imitate the fair face of nature, opinion." has not derived his resources from the ex" And pray whose opinion do you give?" uberance of a pampered fancy, but from half " Mr. Rlundell's, the Morrisons', and Miss extinguished recollections of beauty and harGreen's." mony, which the discord of worldly strife, "Miss Green's?" and the harshness of penury, are fast obliter"Yes; they tell me she laughed very ating from his weary and distempered mind. much in Miller's shop the other day, at a You can luxuriate in the realms of art, light house, which she said stood on one corner. as the butterfly amongst the flowers of sumYou may possibly remember the piece. It mer: but how unlike this happy and harmhas cattle in the fore-ground." less insect tasting of innumerable sweets, I did remember the piece; and I remem- while it depreciates and poisons none. Bebered also that Miss Green had once at- fore you the works of imagination are tempted to beg it of me by earnest entreaties spread forth to be contemned and trampled which I had great difficulty in refusing; but upon. Pause then, for one moment, in your when I heard that Mr. Blundell, a man who merciless career, and reflect that such are took the lead in all matters of taste, was her often the productions of those whose labour companion, and had doubtless set the laugh is carried on at the midnight hour, when you 124 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. are in your downy beds, and ceases not for rather endure every other earthly loss than the throbbing of the heart that is torn with this. unkindness, nor the aching of eyes that are The discipline I was subjected to beneath blinded with tears. the sheltering roof of my aunt Morris was My agent was but too faithful in her re- like hard labour, and strong bitters, used to port. The efforts of my genius had been correct the evils of towt much indulgence. miserably depreciated in value, and what For some days I bore it well, thinking the was of' infinitely more consequence to me, "pelting of the pitiless storm" would surely had not been sold. Not that the kind com- cease in time; instead of which it rather panions of my early years had ceased to be gathered and accumulated upon me, until I kind, or would not willingly have given me found my temper had imbibed the bitterness the stated price of all my worthless trifles; of which I was constantly partaking. but it makes a wonderful difference, whether Gentle ladies, have you a cousin Jane? at hing is exhibited as a mhtter of taste, or as If not, your gentleness has never been fully an article of sale. Many will value as a gift put to the test. Have you a friend who takes what they would not buy at any cost, how- the liberty of a near connexion, or familiar ever small; not at all because they grudge acquaintance, to tell you every disagreeable the money, but because, while receiving a thing which every body has said about you, gift (that not being always a matter of and that not at all on her own behalf, so that choice) their own judgment is not implicat- you cannot retort or repel the injury? While ed, but the giver being solely responsible for she has no part nor lot in the matter, but all deficiency of merit, they can say to their just thinks it right to tell you so much that, criticising friends, "I know it has many in time, you are induced to believe all old faults, but I value it fobr her sake, poor thing!" friends are changed, and all new ones are and thus save their credit; but for the ap- false. Perhaps the most distressing part of palling question, "And pray how much the information laid before me, was what might you give for this splendid concern?" had been said by my sister. Jane Morthey are provided with no saving reply, but ris had lately been staying with her, and must suffer an imputation upon their good reported that she had made many remarks taste, in having chosen to make such a pur- about my expences, did not at all approve of chase. my way of living, —should be truly glad if I No one can thoroughly know the world had a settled home, and wished I would conand its odd ways without they have been sent to live with them, where I should be poor. A thousand secrets are laid open to more free from unpleasant remarks. the eyes of the needy which the children of "Never!" I exclaimed with warmth quite affluence will not believe of themselves; and unusual to me. "I will live any where but the rude key of penury unlocks the laboratory with them. I will advertise for a situation." of the human mind, where a view may be My aunt peeped over her spectacles, and obtained of the various particles of which it thought I had better advertise for a husband. is compounded before they are refined, amal- " They have heard," continued my tormengamated, and sent forth for the ornament of tor " all about your affair with the Burtons. polished circles. It is almost worth enduring Mrs. Arundel tell every body, and how you a little reduction of our means for the know- tried to captivate Sir Charles." ledge which is thus obtained; but then it is " And how I failed?" the loss of caste that reveals the truth; and "Not exactly that; for I find he followed who, from the poor Indian, owning no pro- you to the methodist's, where he found you perty beneath the sun but his Braminical amongst such low people that he had little thread, to the philosopher who professes to inclination to go again." despise all worldly possessions, would not "Did Sir Charles tell his own story?" THE PAINS 9F PLEASING. 125 " I am not quite sure of that. I think it coolly I should have come to the conclusion, was a friend of his who told Mr. Grahame that my friends thought no worse of me than that they were sent out of the house because that I was very foolish, a sentence we so they laughed at prayers, and that you cried, often pronounce upon others, in so many difbut I am sure you don't mind any thing ferent ways, that I had no right to think myabout what people say." self harshly dealt with because some of its " Ol! no, not the least." varieties had now reached my own ear. "I am sure you cannot think seriously of That there are such people as my cousin so young a man, especially after you have so Jane, I think all who have reached the age lately been attached to Mr. Burton." of thirty, and many much younger, will al"Attached to Mr. Burton!" low: —people who want the moral courage " Yes; good Mrs. Burton says she never to attack with their own weapons, but saw any one more attached than you were wound with tenfold force by borrowing darts, to him until living amongst high people and poison to dip them in, from others. changed you: that no one ever was more What their object can be, is difficult to unchanged than you were when she called derstand. If they really mean to do us upon you: that you minced your words and good by laying bare the truth, they must be sailed about as if you had been a duchess. ignorant that such truths are only calculated But you don't mind poor Mrs. Burton." to stir up envy, malice, hatred, revenge, and " Oh, no, I don't mind any thing just now," all those evil passions, by which the peace said I, forcing. a laugh. of society is destroyed: converting friends "That's very fortunate. I am glad you are into enemies, and darkening the hours of in good spirits, I want to talk to you a little social intercourse with the shadow of misabout money; and that is rather a heavy trust. If they mean to make us wicked, subject to those who have none." and, consequently, miserable, they can " Pray go on. It makes no sort of differ- scarcely adopt a plan more sure. And yet ence." this contemptible system of irritation is what "Well, there is a great deal said about some would make a merit of by calling it your expenses, and the presents that you speaking thz truth. But truth is of too celesmake; though, to be sure, the cambric hand- tial an essence to be thus violated. As the kerchiefs you gave old Mrs. Armstrong all most precious coin, when used as a bribe proved to be cotton; and the amethyst in for base purposes, is most extensive in its Miss Green's broach, which they say looks baneful influence, so truth, unsanctified by very well by candle light, is not real. And virtue, may be made more fatal even than your correspondents, I understand, are falsehood to security and happiness. enough to ruin a nabob. Mrs. Arundel says I could not remain long with my aunt and her husband had to pay five pounds for your cousin. The constant recital of petty facts, letters, though you only stayed with them all tending to humiliation, overthrew the six weeks: and the house-keeper thinks you equanimity of my mind. The catalogue I are sadly too fond of good living for a person well knew, was filled up with things no in your situation." worse than are said and done every day, I was beginning to breathe when the re- and might, by a philosopher, have been set ports were only charged with what house- aside as unworthy of a moment's considerakeepers said about good living; but the tion.' But I was no philosopher, I was living attack came upon me again with unabated upon the good will of society, and they were fury, until I really believed myself driven to gall and bitterness to me. the lowest pit of degradation in the opinion Where now in the wide world was I to of all whom I had once esteemed, and who go? Stirred up to indignation by the tittlehad once esteemed me. Had I reasoned tattle of my cousin, I had written a hasty 126 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. and insulting letter to my sister, declining humble dwelling; and, after winding along any further advance of money from that many streets, in a drizzling rain, which I quarter; and, under the influence of the thought might just as well have spared itself same feeling, I had lately passed Miss and me a month longer, I saw the name of Green, from whom I had received a pressing Wilson in large gilt letters over the door of invitation, without any sign of recognition. a shop, where many busy feet were passing In short, I was rapidly becoming the victim to and fro. Mr Wilson, adorned with his of the most unamiable of passions; for no apron, had just time to stretch his head over other reason than because the senseless the counter and ask me to walk forward into gossip of an idle woman had conveyed to the parlour where I should find his wife. my ear the unkind and uncharitable remarks " Take away that barrow," he called out, made upon myself, which we are making in a loud authoritative tone to the shopman, upon each other every day. who, with alternate skip and strut, hastened Where in the wide world was I to go, and to remove the obstacles, and threw open a how was I to find bread? I, whe lad a door, through which I groped my way along multitude of friends, was without a home. a passage, directed to the parlour only by I, who had a fortune in my fingers, found the screams and uproar of nine children unnothing in my purse, and my cousin Jane dergoing the agony of a Saturday-night's was constantly reminding me that my things wash. My heart failed me; but the rival would not sell. discord of the shop prevented my return. " Perhaps not," I replied, " amongst these While I hesitated, the parlour door was sudspiteful people who are determined to crush denly thrown open by one of the little rebels, me; but I will try my fate with strangers. hoping to escape his share in the general There is a world elsewhere?" and, so say- purification; and the scene within was thus ing, I proudly withdrew myself, and pre- revealed to my wondering vision. pared for my departure, no one could con- It was ten years since I had seen my jecture to what place. friend-ten married years. Nine children, The London coach took me away from three attacks of hooping cough, four of mea1ny aunt's door, and set me down in a nar- sles, scarlet fever, croop, and one cripple had row bustling street of the metropolis, in the done nuch to make Mrs. Wilson exceedingly very heart of the city, where an early friend, unlike the fair girl I had once known her; whose mind would once have done honour but living in a dark street in London, poverty to the most refined and elevated sphere, and underselling had done more. Oh! who now dragged on her existence as the wife of can say they do not wish for money, so long a tradesman, in the midst of perpetual toil as young helpless girls will marry before and confusion. I had known her, when a they have had much more experience than young woman, mild, delicate, and gentle. the dolls they have just laid aside-so long Her home was not the most comfortable, as men who have not wherewith to clothe and she had married young, hoping (surely and feed themselves, will link their hard fate this is hoping against hope) that with the with those who are not used to hardship. change would come some little improvement At first all may go smoothly on, New furin her circumstances. Her husband was a niture looks well, and kind, pitying relations, kind, rational, and worthy man, worn down make presents that show upon the table and with the burden of an unprofitable busiAess, the mantle-piece. They are both young, a sickly wife, and nine children. With these guileless, and confiding; and affection in the people it was my intention to lodge, and to young is more potent while it lasts, than the support myself by painting. old will believe; but even love may be It was on a Saturday evening, about the drawn upon too often for draughts too large; middle of October, that I sought out their and Cupid, and the poot man's banker, make Tii l- PAINS OF PLEASING. 127 I the Bane comwrl&la T.he first c&ld is wel- stranger was; she was herself so changed, coned by the nurse and the young mother, that but for a peculiar smile which played and sometimes the father is beguiled of his for a moment on'her lips, and which had pressing cares by its happy smiles. A se- once been familiar to her face, I should cond finds a welcome, because two are little scarcely have known her. more trouble than one; and a third, because I told her I was come to be her lodger, they hope it will be the last: but they have She thought I was jesting; nor was it until no nursery, and it is very difficult to find a I had convinced her of my meaning by rewelcome for the fourth. The wifb loses her peated assurances, that she acknowledged, health and her spirits. Her cheek grows by a silent tear, how sorry she was to be hollow, her eye dim, and she is evidently unable to offer me a home on any other sinking under her accumulating cares, but terms. an underselling tradesman has just settled'You are weary," she said-"I will just near them, and they cannot afford to hire put the children to bed, and then you shall more help. The doctor is called in; he looks have tea." with compassion on that gentle drooping I asked if, in the mean time, I might go form, and recommends quiet, with frequent up stairs to my own room. reclining on the sofa. Alas! there is no Poor Mrs. Wilson looked confounded; she sofa; and if there were, how should that had forgot, while offering me a welcome, wife recline-how should she find rest, whose that, on the birth of her last child, she had ears are stunned with perpetual discord, who resigned the privilege of keeping what is is constantly called upon to appease the an- called a spare room, and that it was impossiger of the turbulent, to soothe the fretful, to ble any apartment under her roof should be gather up the bruised, and to fo(rget herself. exclusively my own. She might have recolPerchance the husband loves her still, all lected too, if this had not been enough, that changed as she is, and thinks kindly of her, long before this fearful encroachment upon for he can do no more; but the hardship of comfort, she had laid aside all pretensions to her lot is not much alleviated by his thoughts. neatness and regularity, and that, even in Oh! who does not wish for money when what was now called the best, instead of the they see the children of such people wanting spare room, every drawer was stuffed, and that education which their parents have en- every shelf crowded with different articles of joyed, and consequently falling into a lower clothing, concealed from the depredations of grade of society, without either the dignity the small fry, who ranged at large, and inof their father or the refinement of their mo- truded with their busy fingers wherever they ther; strangers even to the decency of man- were not prevented by lock and bolt. ners and conduct without which we ought:" Stay one moment," said my friend, and not to be contented. I was left m the dark while she ran upstairs. With such a family as this I was now Half the little tribe escaped on the departure come to eat my bread. I could not expect a of their mother. Of the remaining half I welcome, but I found one; for the poor are could only make friends with one, while the j not the last to fulfil the duties of hospitality, others shrieked and rolled about the floor, nor the worn and the harassed the most un- until they woke the baby in the cradle, and willing to show that they can exert them- I had more than I could well manage to still selves yet farther for a friend. its cries. Mrs. Wilson was on her knees in the Mrs. Wilson now called to me from the midst of her noisy group when I entered. top of the stairs, and I ascended with the She started up at the sight of a stranger, cheering hope of finding quiet at last; but, and it was some time before she discovered, woeful to relate, a low wide bed, made to by the flickering light of the fire, who that contain three at least, stood close beside the 128 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. one prepared for me, and the poor mother I must spend my time. I said that my obtold me, with many apologies, and much em- ject in coming to town was to make painting ba;rrassment, that she could not offer me any my profession, and I was then permitted to other room, nor find room for her children lock the door of my chamber for the day, elsewhere. with many charges to shut up my valuables "Don't mention it," said I, "it is of no sort for the night. of consequence;" and she left me to attend to her duties below. It was, indeed, a heart-sickening scene upon which I cast my eyes;-carpets torn and soiled, spread out to look their longest CHAPTER XII. and widest, and the bed adorned with shabby finery which had no doubt been splendid in MY picture proceeded slowly, for I had the first days of wedlock; but all things the nothing to copy, and was not quite so skilful reverse of comfortable, dwindled into insig- a performer as false friends and flattery had nificance when compared with what I antici- once induced me to believe. Still it did propated of the wide bed, with its three inmates, ceed. There was a visible line of demarkaand the consequent disturbance of my morn- tion between the heavens and the earth, and ing hours. an old castle with a group of trees were beMy meditations were interrupted by the ninning to emerge from chaos. My hopes little trio themselves appearing, so clean and rose with the clothing of the foliage, but not merry, that I could not find in my heart to quite in proportion to the cost of the ultrawish them elsewhere, especially after I had marine which I spent upon the sky. It was asked myself what right I had to come into worth a great deal to me, under present cirtheir sleeping-room and wish them out of it. cumstances, to have an object from which I The next day was one of as much repose could derive a ray of hope, however small, as this family were ever permitted to enjoy; and more and more rays were daily emanabut late going to bed, late rising, all the chil- ting from my picture. Bright visions of fudren to dress and keep clean in their Sunday- ture aggrandizement rose upon me. Geneclothes, with only one servant, made it seem rosity stood forth in distant perspective, and not much like repose to me. It was, indeed, I began to calculate upon the precise time no day of rest. The father dressed his eld- when, after receiving the reward of my laest boy in tight jacket and blue cap, and bours, I should place in the hands of Mrs. walked off with him to church; the servant Wilson at least twice the sum upon which followed, and the mother cooked and nursed we had agreed for a month's lodging. My alternately all the morning, adorned herself temper grew sweeter as my spirits were enin a little finery for the afternoon, and nursed livened. I forgave my cousin Jane; I played again. I had no occupation but that of mak- at bo-peep with my companions in the morning myself a favourite with the children, ing, rose early to catch a view of my perwhich I did so effectually that I never could formance in the first light of day, and even shake off their turbulent familiarity again. permitted a little fellow, whom I had singled When I went up stairs half a dozen were out as my favourite, to remain in the room dragging at my skirts; and when I came with me while I was at work, provided he down, they jumped upon mine from the banis- sat still upon the floor, and did not touch. ters. I complained, but Mrs. Wilson never Like all favourites, he used his prerogative took my part; she smiled, and was glad, at first with moderation. On the second day poor woman, to see them happy and not at I was obliged to enforce the law of'not touchher expense. ing; on the third I had to insist upon his beThis. however, was not the way in which ing quiet; and on the fourth was compelled THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 129 to make a new law, that, if he rose from the magnificent scale, and thinking my best plan floor, he should be dismissed altogether. It would consequently be to assume a characwas a dull thing to sit still upon the floor, ter of importance, I asked for some costly which nothing but the idea of its being a engravings, and looking at them with the privilege could have reconciled; but little air of one who is very much disposed to purJemmy was permitted to have a long piece chase, but has some trifling reason for not of string, and he made the most of that. purchasing just now, I took out nry purse, My picture was nearly completed, and concealing the empty end, and paid three really, when there was no other to compare shillings for a worthless article, as if money it with, looked, I thought, very tolerable. A was so plentiful with me, that I could afford few strong touches were yet to be given, bold to throw it away. and productive of great effect. I advanced After spending some time in this manner, — retreated-applied the finishing stroke, and I caught the quick eye of one who held a retreated again; when crash went the whole place of authority in the establishment; and fabric in hopeless and irrevocable ruin on the who seeing a well-dressed lady disposed to floor, overwhelming, amongst disjointed frag- trifle away her time and money, thought I ments, the mischievous author of it, whose must be worthy of his most polite attentions, busy fingers, after tying the string to the while stretching himself forward with an infoot of the easel, had pulled it away with a effable smile, he laid before me rich costly sudden jerk. books in splendid bindings, and pictures — That a painting never falls to the ground ah! how unlike to mine! without the freshly smeared surface being A group of gentlemen were lounging in downwards is just as worthy of remark, as one corner of the shop, reading the newspathat the fall of bread and butter is attended pers, and turning over the trifles of the day. with the same fatality; a fact, the truth of One glance at the idle party made me rewhich every school-boy will stand forward to treat to the farthest distance to transact my attest. My picture was no exception to the business with Mr. Bond. I know not what general rule; and Mrs. Wilson's carpet be- I said, nor how I made my meaning undering of too frail a texture to be ever shaken, stood; but he must have been well acquainted the case was a desperate one indeed. There with such meaning to understand it all. I was nothing for me to do, but to commence can only recollect a dreadful sense of suffomy labours afresh. Little Jemmy was dis- cation in my throat, and the fall of the man's missed now and for ever. My spirits sunk, countenance when he opened out my picture, my temper failed me on the slightest provo- and held it this way and that, to receive some cation, and nothing but the idea that I was flattering light by which one touch of merit eating bread which I had no right to call niight be revealed. "Ten guineas" was my own, could have supported me through marked upon it as the price, but he chose to the wearisome task of completing another read "ten shillings," declaring it was quite picture. too much. " Indeed we have no sale whatAnother, however, was completed in time, ever for such things as these," he added, reand I set off on a tour of observation throulrh turning it to me, and glancing impatiently the streets of London, to see what place would towards more profitable customers. be most likely to receive so precious a de- I still waited, for I was too much stupified posit. I was not long in fixing, and with my to move. Whether Mr. Bond for once felt a last five shillings in my pocket, hired a hack- touch of pity I know not, but he took up the ney coach, and went forth to make my for- picture, which I had let drop beside me on tune in a flourishing establishment at the the floor, and condescended to point out some West End. of its defects. Finding everything here conducted on a "It wants," said he, flcarishing his hand 130 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. over it, with an air that implied its want of in want, was perpetually to be the bane of everything but paint,-" it wants sweetness my happiness; and that my necessities were -it wants repose." never to be relieved without my difficulties " It may well want repose," I exclaimed. at the same time being increased. "If you knew where it had been painted-" I made one effort to express my thanks" That is no concern of ours, ma'am- thanks which I did not feel. I tried, for one None in the world. The public have nothing moment, to be nothing but what I really to do with that." And he spread forth his was-the poor woman receiving' the price hands, as if in the act of driving me out, ad- of her honest labours; but I could not so far vancing every step that I receded, and open- forget my former self. The remembrance ing the door most willingly for my exit. of Lady Moira rose before me in overwhelm"You had better take the painting, ma'am; ing majesty. I was once more Caroline we can do nothing with it here." Irvine, with all her vanity, and all her little"You can burn it, I suppose," said I, and ness, and had accepted the offer of Sir turned away. Charles to escort me home, before I reflected I scarcely knew where I was going. Every what a home was mine. object swam before my eyes, and I felt as Ah! would we but reserve our shame and lonely in that crowded street as if I had been our embarrassment for that which is really a pilgrim wandering across the great desert. disgraceful and perplexing, what burning It is under this kind of bewilderment amongst blushes, what bitter tears we might be the busy multitudes of the thickly peopled spared! city, that the last attack of cruelty is gene-+ I had none but a straightforward path to rally made upon the miserable-an attack pursue. A few words of candid explanation upon his purse; but the lightness of mine would have revealed my simple story, and would have greatly mitigated the pain of made it the last wish of Sir Charles to conlosing it; and fearless of anything being tinue my acquaintance; but the best (I would added to my sufferings, I was pursuing my have persuaded myself the only) time for uncertain way, when suddenly my sleeve explanation was now over; and we were was touched, and a young man from the pursuing our way together, I knew not to shop, almost breathless with haste, asked me what place, nor cared, so long as it was not to step back, saying that a gentleman had to that little shop, through which we must purchased the painting. have entered had he taken me to my present " Who is the gentleman?" I asked. The home. young man did not know, but said he had The morning was fine, and when' my combeen standing by while I was talking with panion proposed that we should see some of his master, and had heard all we said. the wonders of the place, I had little inclina"Whoever he may be, I must thank him," tion to refuse, because I should thus enjoy a I exclaimed; and when Mr. Bond with great few more hours of his society, and put off formality laid the ten guineas before me, I that most dreaded, the hour of return. From begged to be permitted to see my benefactor, one exhibition we passed on to another. if possible. Cnnversation never flagged. Sir Charles With my heart overflowing with gratitude, was more delightful than ever, and I rattled I followed him into an adjoining room,where on with that desperate gaiety which is but a Sir Charles Moira advanced to meet me poor substitute for wretchedness. with his blandest smiles. There is no liberty like that of' a vast city How was it that I could be thankful no -no security from observation like that of more, that I longed to return the money, and being one of the multitude. Sir Chares had woula willingly have been pennyless again? now nothing to fear from his lady mother, It seemed as if money, of which I was always and I was a hundred miles distant from my THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 131 cousin Jane. These hours, which I vainly dressed stepped forth, emerging from the tried to persuade myself were happy, flew darkness of a November evening, into the swiftly on, and my behaviour had rendered brilliant light of the theatre. Sir Charles, i; more difficult for me each succeeding mo- without a word of parley led me in. I knew ment to speak the whole truth. My com- not at first where he was taking me, and panion had been too polite to hint at the when I discovered, my remonstrances were affair of the picture, and I had ever since the too feeble to induce him to return; and, in morning, acted the lady so completely, that a few moments I was seated beside him in he must either have doubted the pecuniary the broad glare of a thousand lights. I had dilemma which his own eyes had witnessed, now time to think, and with a full sense of or despised me for my affectation and incon- my situation, there rushed upon my mind sistency from the bottom of his heart. Most such an overwhelming conviction of the abprobably he did the latter. Indeed, had he surdity and imprudence of my conduct done otherwise than despise me, he would through this day, that I neither listened to not have attempted as he did, to lead me on the music, nor heeded the spirited performfrom one place to another, until the day was ance which called forth from lighter hearts far spent, beguiling the time with profes- than mine, unbounded applause. sions of admiration more ardent than are My past life had been an idle one, vanity ever inspired by respect its moving spring, and folly its ruling star; i Women would do well to judge by this but I had never completely sacrificed my rule, of the estimation in which they are held self-respect till now; and many were the by those whose right province is to protect tears I dashed away from my eyes this night them from harm and danger. It is impossi- to look at the brilliant scenes, and the ble that a gentleman should be- ignorant of brighter beauties of the stage, which my gay those niceties of conduct, by which the purity companion whispered in my ear, were less and dignity of woman's character is pre- lovely than myself. served; and if he do but whisper a proposi- I believe half the sins that stain the record tion for her to sacrifice the very smallest of of woman's life owe their origin to criminal these for any purpose whatever, even for his weakness, rather than criminal design. I own sake, the case is a clear and decided use the harsh word criminal, because that one, that he thinks meanly of her to suppose weakness deserves no better name, which is that she will listen to his request, and that encouraged and yielded to without any aphis regard for her is not such as to make peal to an higher power for the support him solicitous to maintain the beauty of her which is mercifully promised to the feeble. unsullied name. The falsehood that is told from fear, wears The sum of my folly was now nearly com- less the appearance of depravity than that pleted, and I gravely insisted upon returning which is told solely with a wish to deceive; home alone. but the falsehood that is wrung from terror "Alone! impossible!" is just as likely to be supported by other "Be kind enough to order me a coach, and falsehoods, and to draw after it an equal I shall go very safely." train of guilt and shame. So, the slightest "But not alone," he repeated with a look error knowingly persisted in, and followed that startled me, and I walked on again in up by its natural and inevitable consesilence, pondering on my dilemma. We quences may become morally as culpable as were approaching one of the theatres-a the grossest vice. How watchful, then, celebrated performer was to delight the should all weak creatures be of the first false world that night. Carriages were rolling step, never risking the slightest deviation up, delivering their precious burdens, and under the presumptuous hope that they may then making way for others. Ladies richly have strength to return. 29 132 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. It was my weakness rather than my de- ceitfulnese of her own fancy would be perpravity which made me shrink from disclos- petually leading her astray, had not that ing to Sir Charles the exact state of my cir- warning beacon been lighted, by which alone cumstances and situation. This weakness we are able to perceive and shun had first plunged me into difficulties from which I had not sufficient rectitude and "The thousand paths that slope the way to sin." which I had not sufficient rectitude and moral courage to extricate myself. At The vanity of Sir Charles was beyond every step I had become more involved, and the reach of attack: his temper was imeach succeeding moment now found me moveable, and the driver still waited for his more wretched than the last. orders. The scene closed, the curtain fell, and rude " To the City," I said, in too low a tone voices from the galleries had vociferated for him to hear, and Sir Charles was obliged their last applause, when I rose to depart. to repeat my words. Silent, speechless, and sad, I leaned upon "To what part of it?" the arm of Sir Charles, who no doubt attri- I named a street adjoining that in which buted the change in my manner to the pros- my friends lived, somewhat broader and less pect of being so soon deprived of the irresis- filled with trade, and then shrinking back tible fascination of his society. His voice into a corner of the carriage, listened in sullen became more gentle, his behaviour more silence, to the most flattering asseverations, tender, and his looks more meaning, every- which now delighted me no more. thing that could be done he did to mitigate Arrived at the street I had mentioned, I the pain of losing him; and I found, when it was asked for the name and the number, and was too late to save myself from his con- whether they were on the door. tempt, the necessity of making some exer- I stretched my head out of the window tion to preserve the little independence I had as if to look for the place, and then told the left. man in plain words, so that he might hear Springing into the coach he had sent for, and Sir Charles might not, that it was a groI insisted upon being alone; but he was at cer's shop I wanted, and the name Wilson. my side in a moment, and the driver waited It was quickly found. A thundering knock for his orders. I remonstrated, but I had awoke my host and half his children. Young voluntarily given up my own dignity, and a cries were heard above, and the moving of lady has nothing else to defend her. It is in heavy bolts below. At last the door was vain attempting to persuade the man for opened by Mr. Wilson, in his night-cap. Sir whom she has made this sacrifice, that he Charles kissed my hand, and I sprang out has not unlimited power over her heart. of the coach. There is no alternative, but either to submit " Surely," thought I, when my head was to his society and his civilities whenever he once more laid upon my pillow, " the mortichooses to impose them upon her, or to pique fications of this day are enough to cure me his vanity, and irritate his temper by obsti- of folly for the rest of my life." na.e rudeness, and then he may revenge I forgot that past folly, knowingly persisted himself upon her reputation, by representing in, is sin, and that sin is not removed by the her folly in such a light that the world will agonies of mortified vanity. give it a harsher name. I could not sleep. What a long season is No! there is no way for a woman to the night to those whose hearts are oppressescape more wretchedness than any female ed with misery, and who endure that misery heart can bear, but by walking humbly be- without the consolation of prayer. I did not fore her God, and trusting solely to his guid- pray. Had any decided calamity fallen ance through the mazes o' her difficult path, upon me, I should have thought of no other where the snares of the world, and the de- resource; but, like many others suffering THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 133 under a load of accumulated cares, I thought the debt I owed to Mrs. Wilson; weighing my petty anxieties and griefs were not sub- the difficulties, and comparing evils, when a jects to be laid before the eye of Omnipo- letter was brought to me from my sister. tence. A feverish tide of troubled thought Well remembering the insulting nature of was rushing through my soul, where hope my last to her, I opened it with nervous terhad forsaken her last resting place, and ror, soon quieted by the kind and delicate frightful apprehensions contended for the manner in which a very eligible situation empire she had just resigned. Not one of was proposed to me, and a supply of the all the fair pictures of imagination now ever needful conveyed, without the slightest seemed tangible and true, but dark visions allusion to the past. I was now great again, of futurity opened upon me through the mist for all human greatness is by comparison. of tears. I returned the ten guineas in a blank cover, If religion be the blessed messenger sent made presents to the little Wilsons, prepared down upon earth to still the sighs of the sor- for my journey, and took leave of my poor rowing when the footsteps of time or death friend, with that rapidity of execution with have trampled down their earthly treasures, which we escape from the misery that we to calm the waters of affliction, and bind up cannot relieve. the broken-hearted; not less is her holy in- I was met at the distance of one stage fluence needed to smoothe the ruffled mind, from my future residence by a gentleman's which petty cares have made their prey, to servant, whose kind and respectful behaviour quiet the rapid and tumultuous throbbings was a sure and pleasant omen of domestic of the heart, and to direct the wandering comfort It was late in the afternoon when I wishes which find no certain gratification in first saw the lights of Mr. Morton's habitathis troubled world, to one whose pleasures tion glimmering through the leafless trees, are unfading, and whose rest is eternal. as we wound along the side of a hill, and descended by a gentle declivity into a thickly wooded valley, where the bright line of a narrow and meandering river was here and there seen glancing through the mist. At CHAPTER XIII. the door I was received with a cordial welcome by a matronly-looking woman, who ON the following morning I awoke with might be either housekeeper or nurse, and many serious thoughts, but still without any who in either situation had obtained suffifixed determination to pursue a more decided cient knowledge of the domestic affairs of the path. My attention was absorbed by present family, to be able to satisfy the demands of difficulties, which I vainly tortured my in- my curiosity. genuity to find expedients to escape from. Mr. Morton was a widower, within the Indeed my whole life was a system of expe- last year deprived of a wife whom he had dients, not to attain any laudable object, but almost idolized, since whose death he had to help me on the winding and circuitous but rarely been seen to smile. He was a way, by which I hoped to arrive at the uni- man of fastidious tastes, and secluded habits, versal good-will of society. not lavish of his affections, but when he did I was pondering in my own chamber upon love, it was with tenderness unspeakable; the propriety of returning the price of my and all that he now seemed capable of feelpicture to Sir Charles, whose charity (for I ing was expended upon an only child, whose could not attribute to him any other motive extremely delicate constitution rendered her in his purchase,) was not exactly what I an object of painful solicitude. wished to profit by; and against the return "You will think Mr. Morton cold and forof this money I was setting the discharge of bidding at first," said my informer, who was (134 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. kindly disposed to let me into every secret; and intelligent eyes of one who could think " but there never was a more devoted hus- as well as feel. I saw at once the departed band, a kinder father, or a better master; mother, whose sacred silence subdued my and if you can but attach yourself to the poor lighter feelings, and I inwardly resolved that child, and win her affection, you will be the reverence with which her pictured form sure of his." inspired me should be mz safeguard and'Although the worthy woman possibly protection while cherishing her orphan child. meant nothing more than her master's good Forcibly impressed as my mind already will, when she spoke of his affection, I was with what I had heard and seen, I was thought this was going too far, and changed yet more deeply interested on entering the the subject by asking some questions about room where the poor invalid lay. Her fathe child, when I was shocked to learn that ther was bending over her couch, and rose there was every probability of her remaining not until I approached, when he regarded an invalid for life. me with an earnest and scrutinizing eye, as "She was a sweet young creature," said if to ascertain whether I were such a perMrs. Woods; " none can help loving her son as his daughter would find it possible to who have seen her suffer. Oh! what a like. comfort you will be, ma'am, to this family! "You have undertaken a wearisome task," For though we may nurse and do all that we said the child, holding out her hand to me, can, Miss Eleanor is now able to converse " but if you can bear with me and my impalike a woman, and wants better society than tience, every one else, I am sure, will try to such as me. Indeed we sometimes think make you comfortable." she is too sensible, and that having such "And will not you, my love?" asked the busy thoughts and quick feelings, makes her father. health more delicate. But oh! ma'am, you " I will do my best," said she-" but there will be a comfort to her. I know you will." is very little that I can do." And so saying, Mrs. Woods left me to en- " You can tell me freely all you want," joy without interruption, and for the first said I. time in my life, the hope of being really and " Ah! that I am sure I will!" she exproperly useful. claimed; " you look so kind I know I shall The apartment into which I had been be able to tell you every thing. But are you shown was called Miss Eleanor's study; but strong? are you healthy? are you quite it wore more decidedly the character of a able to keep awake sometimes in the night? sick room, and though a few well-chosen Poor Mrs. Woods sleeps so soundly, I do books lay on the table, couches, cushions, not like to disturb her, and the night is so and various inventions fbr the alleviation of long when nobody speaks to me. It is a suffering, bore testimony to the melancholy sad thing, Miss Irvine, that sickness makes truth, that if this were the path to science, us selfish." it was not strewn with flowers. A few ap- "It has so pleased the disposer of our propriate pictures adorned the walls. such as lives." I replied, "that no situation shall be simple cottage scenery, a girl drawing without its peculiar trials. During sickness water at a well, a child at play, a favourite when we are exempt from any of the tempdog, a bird let loose. One large painting tations of the world, and are almost comhung above the fire, concealed by a curtain, pelled from our very weakness to seek for which I ventured to raise. It was the figure divine support, we might possibly grow selfof a Madonna, beautifully executed, not righteous, had not this temptation been perwith the unmeaning countenance by which mitted, to convince us that we are still submost artists have chosen to disgrace this ject to the most despicable of human frailholy character, but with the clear forehead ties." THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 135 Mr. Morton looked attentively at me, as if its Creator? I could weep at midnight to discern the spirit which had prompted this over my thorny and bewildered path, but I speech; but the unsophisticated child, satis- never, either at midnight or noon-day, fled that none but a good woman could talk breathed an humble prayer that I might be so well, asked me if I were not too weary to solely guided by his will. I never formed sleep beside her that night. She evidently an earnest resolution that I would serve wished it, and I could not refuse. Her fa- Him and Him only. I never seriously enther now left us, and we entered into many deavoured to lay hold of those promises by arrangements respecting personal comfort, which the burden of past transgression is and were soon as familiar and cordial as if made more tolerable, nor looked with steadiwe had been acquainted for years. Mrs. ness towards that star whose inextinguishWoods would willingly have retained her able light would have led me safely through place for that night, but the sudden prefer- the storms of life. ence poor Eleanor entertained for me, ren- Unacquainted with the importance of liv dered me more than willing to share what- ing for one object only, some may be disever disturbance she might endure. posed to think that I distressed myself more The enjoyment of sleep I could not even than was necessary, so long as what the anticipate. Strange visions of the past and world calls guilt was not stamped upon my future flitted before my mind, nor was the conscience; but are we not told in the record present less strange to me that it was rich in of eternal truth, that those who are not for promises of peace and comfort. To be re- the righteous cause are against it And garded with affection by this suffering child, though I could freely and fluently recomit might be with esteem by her father, and mend religion to others as an ultimate good, to contribute to the happiness of both, was where was the evidence of my own esa harvest of enjoyment I was all unworthy pousal. to reap. I looked back into my past life, and While pondering in my own mind upon a tried to blame my luckless fate for half the world of dark and troubled thoughts, my atculpability to which my burning tears bore tention was arrested by the sweet voice of witness. I had few deliberate and deter- my companion, repeating, in a low and genmined sins to charge my conscience with. tle tone, the following words:The world had certainly dealt unfairly with me. I felt nothing but kindness and good in the still watches of the solemn night, will towards the whole hulmanl race, and While chilly dews are falling thick and damp, only wished I could prove by self-sacrifice, And countless stars shed forth their feeble light, The silent mourner trims her cheerless lamp. how inexhaustible was that kindness, how unfailing that good-wilL Every subterfuge Alone she watches through the midnight hour, unfailing that good-wilL Every subterfuge Alone she breathes the melancholy sigh, that human frailty could lay hold of I tried Alone she droops like some neglected flower, that night, to convince myself that I had no Unseen the tears that dim her sleepless eye. need to be unhappy, but it would not do. Alone! Thereisnoloneliness with God, Conviction came not so readily as my tears, No darkness that he cannot turn to light; and I wished myself a child again, that I No flinty rock, from whence ihs gracious rod might offer up to heaven an unsophisticated May not bring forth fresh waters, pure and bright. might offer up to heaven an unsophisticated mind, and bow before the throne of mercy There is no wilderness whose desert caves in perfect simplicity and singleness of heart. Are hid from his all-penetrating eye; Nor rolls that ocean, whose tumultuous waves It is true there was no moral stain upon my May not be silenced when the Lord is nigh. character. I had laboured hard to promote the happiness of others, and religious senti- Thee is no bark upon the trackless main, No pilgrim lone. whose path he cannot see ments were familiar to my lips; but how Peace! then, poor mourner, trim thy lamp again, stood my trembling soul in the presence of The eye that knows no slumber, watches thee. 136 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. These words were followed by a sigh so ments would have been less pure. What deep and heavy, that I roused myself from would I not have given for a full and cornmy fruitless meditations to ask, whether my plete conviction, that he thought he had acted young friend was in pain. wisely in choosing me for the companion of " Not so much in pain, as weary," she re- his child? I vain I sought to win his favour plied. "I am afraid I have disturbed you, by every artifice which I deemed too remote but the night is very long, and my mother for detection. Artifice had no effect upon a used to teach me to repeat verses and hymns character so firm and sterling. What I failed when I could not rest. You must not pay to accomplish in this way, was, however, in any regard to me, but try to sleep again." time effected by my'simple and unstudied I replied, that I had not yet slept. services to his child; who sometimes gave "Ah! I dare say you have been thinking her father such glowing descriptions of my of your home." unremitting kindness, that he rewarded me " I have no home, my love." with a smile too expressive of entire confi"No home! Then you must sometimes dence, for me ever to forget. be very sad. But still you have a home for It was, indeed, as the kind nurse had told your thoughts. Some secret resting place me; no one could witness the sufferings of of which no one can deprive you." Eleanor Morton without loving her. She Poor child! she little knew in what a bar- was not impatient, but so perfectly guileless, ren wilderness my thoughts were ranging, that she concealed nothing, and after having nor how long it was since they had found a permitted herself to speak as she thought too resting place. freely of her own distressing feelings, she I made no answer, and the invalid, some- would sometimes shed, over what she called what excited by fever, went on with her con- her weakness and ingratitude, tears more versation, asking with perfect simplicity, agonizing than pain alone had been able to many close questions which I had no choice wring from her. With no one was she so but to answer, yet to answer which, fully and completely undisguised in her moments of candidly, would have deprived me for ever suffering, as with me. of her esteem. Towards morning, however, "Mrs. Woods," said she, "pities me too she slept soundlye and awoke without much much, and I cannot tell my father all that I recollection of what had passed in the night. feel, lest I should distress him. It is quite I had now a severe ordeal to pass through different with us all now that you are come, in the presence of Morton, whose command- Miss Irvine. Are you not happy to have ing countenanee, reserved manners, and made us so cheerful again? Even my father strict scrutinizing eye, rendered him a truly is quite an altered man. I thought this mornalarming person, when brought into close ing, when he looked at you, that he smiled contact with one who felt no certainty of his as he used to smile upon my mother. And approbation. I soon found that the society do you know he talks of inviting company to of this man would either render me more the house again, for he says it is not good for contemptible, by driving me to the practice you to lead so secluded a life. of deceit, or more worthy, by inspiring the I replied, that my wish was only to be usedesire to merit his respect, which it was ful, and that I felt no want of society. easy to discover could be obtained in no other " Well, don't say anything about it, for I way, than by a steady, consistent, and ration- am quite sure it will do him good, as well as al course of action. The mind of Morton you, to have some one now and then to conwas not so expansive as his character was verse with out of our own family. I dare dignified, and his tastes refined and exclu- say you will take all the trouble off his hands, sive. Had he seen more of the world, he and will not let him feel the want of my momight have been more liberal, but his senti- ther, who used to be so easy and pleasant in THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 137 conversation, that entertaining company has with me. But are you always the same, appeared quite impossible to my poor father, Miss Irvine?" since he was alone." "I am always sorry when I have given I could not help feeling a secret glow of pain," said I. exultation at the idea that I should now be "Perhaps you are too anxious to give able to exhibit my character to Morton, in pleasure," continued the child. " And that what I considered its most pleasing light. I am sure would give my father pain in any The guests arrived. I had dressed myself one he loved." with studied care; and my spirits rose, with I was almost comforted with the close of the prospect of once more having a fair field, this sentence, for there was a certain refinein which to exercise my powers of pleasing. ment and devotion in the character of MorKnowing, too well, the trial of patience it ton, that made his esteem the highest object must be to Morton to carry on the empty of my ambition. But his love! —I had never common-place of desultory conversation, I dared to think of his love before. endeavoured to relieve his difficulty, by dou- "We heard of you," the child went on, bling and redoubling my natural vivacity; "' long before we saw you; that you were a and whatever his guests might think of my very charming woman, a sort of idol in soproper station in his establishment, I was ciety. Now, my father is worth pleasing, fully convinced of their perfect satisfaction in but you cannot please him and all the world finding so lively and entertaining a person, beside. He will explain to you better than for that day, at the head of it. I can, how it makes a person little and conMore than once I detected the steady eyes temptible to be always studying to please, of Morton fixed upon me, when his lips were and how there is but one Being in the unisilent, and there was an earnest. meaning in verse whose favour is worth the constant his gaze, which made the colour rush into trouble of obtaining. Do not think me immy face-I knew not why. At last he left pertinent, Miss Irvine, for speaking to you in the room, and for so long a time, that I be- this manner; I am only an ignorant child, gan to think seriously of my little invalid but I lie here upon this weary bed, ponderfriend; and apologizing to the company for ing upon many grave and serious things, the necessity of attending to duties which I which, if I could enjoy exercise, and play had too long forgotten, I ran hastily up stairs like other children, I should most likely never to pay my first visit to Eleanor since the ar- dream of. Tell me, my dear friend, that you rival of the guests. are not offended." Her father was bending over her couch in "No, no," I replied, "I am distressed, but the same attitude in which I had first seen not offended. You shall be my kind and him. They had been conversing, but their faithful monitress, Eleanor, for your Heavoices dropped when I opened the door; and venly Father makes up to you for the privawhen Morton rose for me to take my proper tions he inflicts, by a clearer sense of what is place, he pressed his handkerchief to his eyes right, than I have ever enjoyed." with more emotion than he was wont to be- "But-may you not enjoy the same? May tray, and hastily left the room. not all who wish to be directed find a guide?" "Come near to me, my friend," said Elea- "Yes, Eleanor, but to wish earnestly and nor, stretching out her hand. "You have with true sincerity of heart is the difficulty." been a long time away. I am afraid my fa- And to wish always is another difficulty. ther thinks you have neglected me; and For sometimes when I am quite at ease, and there is so much mirth below, he does not kind friends are doing more than enough, I know how b bear it. My mother was a very do wish from the bottom of my heart, that I gentle woman, such as you are in the nursery may never be impatient again; but when 138 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. my pain returns, and no one is at liberty to light by these proofs of tenderness and restay with me, or perhaps when they do not gard, than by the most flattering tribute bf understand my meaning, I scarcely wish at mere admiration. all; and then you may be sure I am very With the lapse of time, Morton gradually imnpatient, and very wicked. I think the only recovered the serenity of his mind, and could way is to wish as much and as often as we even enjoy a social evening spent in society can, and to pray God not to forget us, in our congenial to his taste. Miss Evelyn had moments of weakness, when we are but too joined a select party, gathered round his fire likely to forget him. one winter's day, when the conversation turned upon the internal evidence of the Holy Scriptures, and Morton took up the arMore than twelve months had now passed guments of those who would overthrow the since I first became an inmate with this Christian scheme altogether. It might be family, and the time I spent with Morton and evident to others that he was doing this his interesting child, was certainly the most merely for the sake of proving afresh the useful, as it was the happiest of my life. weakness of these arguments, but to me it Amongst the select circle of their intimate was not; and finding him on the weaker side, associates, was a lady whom I never could and Miss Evelyn on the stronger, and chooscompel myself to like so well as my judg- ing rather to support him, than to defend the ment convinced me that I ought. Had Miss truth, I threw all my force into the rising Evelyn ever been addicted to the levities of scale, convincing those who heard me, that I youth, she was past the age for those levities was ready to advocate the cause of right or to interfere with the dignity of a character wrong, just as caprice might dictate, but that even less intellectual- than hers; and the I should never be a very able defender of speculations of idle gossips who sport with either. great characters as well as small, had fixed Argument has a much greater tendency upon her as the future mother of my helpless to convince those who speak, than those who charge. Mother! I almost shuddered when hear; and I was just beginning to be fully I thought of this woman as the mother of confirmed in the truth of the absurdities I poor Eleanor. She was, however, in high was uttering, when Morton suddenly broke favour with the father, and a frequent visitor the thread of our discourse by acknowledging at his house; where her masculine under- himself foiled by the superior dexterity of standing, deep knowledge of books, and fear- Miss Evelyn, " or rather," he added, " by the less conversation on subjects usually beyond superiority of that cause, which I only atthe aim and compass of her sex, threw me tacked for the pleasure of hearing it defended and my shallow attainments, so far into the by a woman." back-ground, that had it not been for the Every eye was now turned towards me, kind regard of Morton, not unfrequently and Miss Evelyn was not too dignified to shown me, by little personal attentions in the triumph over a fallen enemy. I tried to look midst of her luminous harangues, I should at ease, and to put on an appearance of havhave felt more disturbed by her presence ing been at play rather than in earnest; but than was at all reasonable, so long as these a sensation of intense littleness prevented the kind attentions were continued. It was expansion of a smile, and I rejoiced almost enough fbr me that while Miss Evelyn was for the first time in my life, as soon as I found quoting learned authors, and arguing about myself forgotten. the construction of a Greek sentence, my When the guests were gone, I looked.o personal comfort was not forgotten. It was Morton for consolation; but I looked in vain. more than enough; for what woman's heart His eye was turned towards me with an exis not made to glow with more intense de- pression of melancholy tenderness which I THE PAINS OF PLEASING. 139 did not understand, and for several succeed- happy. I was grateful, too, and bowed my ing days, his behaviour was equally inexpli- knee to return thanks, that at last I had cable. I sometimes detected him gazing si- found a home, a protector, and a guide. lently upon my face, and could not, when I "All-unworthy as I am, he shall not find turned away, help feeling that I was still the his confidence misplaced. I will cherish his object of his earnest attention. Sometimes, poor child, and in loving her and him, I shall after conversing in a tone unusually familiar, learn in time to love all things holy. he abruptly left the room; and at other An important fact was yet to be ascertimes, his voice was so mournful, and his tained. The seal was unbroken, and my countenance so dejected, that I longed to ecstacy was of such short duration, that I participate in his secret cares, and if possible, had scarcely strength enough remaining to to chase them away. All kinds of caprice unfold the paper. The first ill omen I perand inconsistency were so foreign to his na- ceived was a sum of money which fell at my ture, that I was entirely at a loss what con- feet unheeded. The letter was a long one, struction to put upon this change, and had kindly and delicately worded. I remember it not evidently been a case of deeper intri- every sentence, every thought, every syllacacy than ought to be communicated to a ble, at which I looked and looked again, to child, I should have referred my anxiety to ascertain whether it would bear a different Eleanor. So far as I could venture with construction. The concluding paragraph propriety, I did, and learned from her that ran thus: she too thought something must have dis- "How ungrateful is the duty of offering turbed her father's mind. "More especially," you, in return for all your kindness to me she added, " because he yesterday gave and mine, this painful proof of my entire conorders for the removal of the curtain which fidence. I know that I am depriving myconcealed my mother's picture; and after self of a companion, who has both the power gazing on her face, for a long time, he said, and the wish to soothe me, and that no one in a melancholy voice,' Eleanor, we need all on earth can now supply your place. I feel the helps we can lay hold of in this trouble- as none but a parent can feel, that I am desome world. May not the holy calm of this priving my helpless child of the tender socountenance sometimes help to preserve you licitude of a mother, and when she appeals and me from evil? If guardian spirits are to me only for those services which you permitted to attend us through the pilgrimage have been accustomed to perform, what of life, surely your mother will be mine and answer shall I make 1 All these considerayours. And as I had no thoughts concealed tions I have weighed day after day, and from her while living, so I desire that those often at deep midnight, when you were not eyes may be constantly before me to remind near me to beguile my thoughts, I have me of my duty now."' watched you with the eye of a husband and It was not many days before the mystery a father, and my solemn conviction is that was unravelled. I found upon my table, on we must part. Not that you have omitted retiring for the night, a letter directed for to fill up the measure of sympathy and kindme, in Morton's hand-writing. I took it up ness with all that an amiable heart could -a sudden thought flashed across my mind, supply, but because the mother of my child bright as the beams of the rising sun to the must be religious as well as amiable; the bewildered traveller. " It must be so-then wife of my bosom must be united to her why this melancholy-this deep conflict of God. feeling " All was accounted for by the " To a woman of your delicacy I need say idea that a parent has much to take into no more, than that you are too charming, consideration. I gave the reins to my ima- and might become too dear. What I have gination, and for one short moment, was already said has been wrung from my heart 140 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE. with more agony than I had thought myself and yet it will be pleasant to think somet:nes capable of feeling again. Farewell! and if when I am suffering, that you would gladly the assistance of a true and faithful friend be near me. May God be good to you, as can ever be of service to you in any future you have been to me. I will pray for you difficulty, remember one who never can for- in.the long night, when I cannot sleep; and get you." if ever time hangs heavily upon you, if As if in mercy to me, Eleanor was per- friends are unkind, or you are tossed about mitted to sleep soundly that night. In the without a home, think, if it be any consolamorning I learned that Morton had gone out tion to you, that you are remembered in the early, saying that he should not return until supplications of a poor child." the evening of the following day. I could Eleanor talked and wept until wearied nanot misconstrue his meaning. He wished ture was worn out. I told her that I had not to meet me again. While sending me concluded to set off with the first dawn of the forth from his home, he had done what he morning. Before she sighed her last farecould to smoothe my way. He had told the well, her strength was so much exhausted domestics that circumstances had occurred that I could perceive the poignancy of her to induce me to leave his family immedi- grief was gone; and before I stole out of her ately. The great difficulty was with poor chamber, I had the satisfaction of feeling her Eleanor. For her he had left a note, and breathe quietly, and regularly, as I stooped when I returned, after having placed it in down to gaze once more upon her calm and her hand, I found that she had buried her beautiful face. face in the pillow, and that her tender frame It was through the dull haze of a winter's was almost convulsed with the violence of morning that I turned to look again into that her grief; but while trying to comfort her, I peaceful valley. I saw the light from the was enabled, in some measure, to forget my window I had called my own-I saw it for own. I sat with her all that day, and to- the last time glimmering through the trees. wards evening we could both converse more The river was still gliding on-all nature calmly. was the same as when I first beheld that "My father has not told me," said she, scene. Another spring would clothe those "why you are going to leave us, nor do I trees in verdant beauty, but no bright hope seek to know, for, had it been right that I of renovated gladness shone upon my path, should, he would not have concealed it from for mine was the winter of the soul. me. I almost wish you had never come; THE END. I~~~~~nx V OICE 1'lFROM THE V INTAGE, ON THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE: ADDRESSED TO THtOSE WHO THINK AND FEEL. BY MRS. ELLIS, AUTHOR OF "THE WIVES OF ENGLAND," ETC., ETC., ETC. AUTHOR'S EDITION, COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. EDWARD WALKER 114 FULTON-STREET. A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. CHAPTER I. human observation, there are certain points of distinction which demand particular atI rCULPCIAxITIEs OF INTEMPERANCE AS A VICE. tention, and require appropriate treatment, Ir the physician, on taking charge of an as we see by the variety of regulations invalid, should simply employ himself in instituted for the well-being of society, and laying down rules for the preservation of the still greater variety of systems of moperfect health, it is evident that his advice ral discipline brought into exercise for the would be of but little service in the re- purpose of controlling the evil tendencies moval of any existing disease under which of our common nature. his patient might be laboring. His rules None who have ever been truly awak. might be excellent, his theory correct; ened to a sense of the all-sufficient power but how would such a patient benefit by of religious influence upon the human either? His malady would require the heart, will be liable to suppose, that any application of some direct and practical mode or system of moral discipline, sim. remedy, before he could be in a situation ply as such, can be effectual in its operato take advantage of any method, however tion upon the life and character, so as, ul. excellent, for the preservation of perfect timately, to secure the salvation of the health. soul; but as a child is carefully taught It is thus with the moral, as well as the that truth and kindness are good, and physical maladies of mankind. It would falsehood and cruelty evil, long before it be a comparatively easy and pleasant task knows any thing of the religion of the Bi. to lay down rules for the preservation of ble; so, in the case of every particular sobriety, order, and happiness, provided vice which has been known in the world, they had never been interrupted; but it may fairly be said to be better that it when evil habits have once gained the as- should be given up, than continued; procendancy, and the moral harmony of so- vided only, it cannot be overcome except ciety has been destroyed, there must be a by the substitution of another. It is no corrective employed to check what is small point gained, when an immortal be. evil, before any incentive can efficiently ing, a fellow-traveller in the journey of operate in promoting what is good. life, is prevailed upon to cease to do evil Although the exceeding sinfulness of in any one respect. He is, at least, in a sin precludes all idea of there being in the better condition for learning to do well, Divine sight, any degree or modification than while persisting in his former course. in the nature of sin itself; yet with regard If a child, a servant, or any one under to particular vices as they come under our care, has been accustomed to tell 4 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. falsehoods, we rejoice over the first symp- his time deprived of that highest attribute toms of their having learned to fear a lie, of man-his rational faculties. - It is, even though their conduct should evince however, a fact, deserving our most se. no other indication of a moral change. rious consideration, that in this state he is We do not say, " Let him return to the more alive, than under ordinary circum. I evil of his ways, for it is of no use his stances, to the impulse of feeling, and of leading a stricter life in this respect, unless passion; so that while on the one hand he becomes altogether a changed charac- he has less reason to instruct him how to ter." We do not say this, because we act, on the other he has more restlessness know that the well-being of society, and and impetuosity to force him into action. the good of every individual connected It has been calculated that of persons with him, require that he should give up thus degraded, there are at the present this particular habit, and if for no other time existing in Great Britain more than reason, we think it sufficient that it should six hundred thousand, of whom sixty thou. be given up for this-that the tendency sand die annually, the wretched victims of all evil is to contaminate, and that no of this appalling vice. vice can exist alone, but if indulged will Such, then, is the peculiarity of intemrnnecessarily extend itself, and pollute what- perance, that while all other vices leave ever it comes in contact with, by this the mind untouched and the conscience at means producing innumerable poisonous liberty to detect and warn of their comrn. fruits from one deleterious root. Thus mission, this alone subdues the reasoning the state of society is proportionally im. powers, so that they have no capability proved every time a vicious habit is whol- of resistance; and while all other vices ly given up; and if this be true of vice are such from their earliest commencein general, how eminently is it the case ment, this alone only begins to be a vice at with that if intemperance; because there that precise point when the clearness of is no other, which, on the one hand, is so the mind, and the activity of the conscience, countenanced by the customs of the world, begin to fail; and thus it progresses, acand which, on the other, spreads its bane- cording to the generally received opinion, ful influence to so fearful and deadly an by increasing in culpability in the exact extent. proportion by which mental capability Intemperance is the only vice in the and moral power are diminished. dark catalogue of man's offences against What an extraordinary measurement the will, and the word, of his Maker, of guilt is this for an enlightened world to which directly assails the citadel of hu- make! In all other cases a man's culpaman reason, and by destroying the power bility is measured precisely by the ability to choose betwixt good and evil, renders he has to detect evil, and the power he the being whose similitude was originally possesses to withstand temptation. In divine, no longer a moral agent, but a this alone he is first encouraged by sociemere idiot in purpose, and animal in ac- ty, and this is while his natural powers re. tion. The man who is habitually intern- main unimpaired. No blame attaches to perate consequently makes a voluntary him then. He is a fit companion for wise surrender of all control over his own con- and good men: but no sooner does his duct, and lives for the greater portion of reason give way than he is first slightly PECULIARITIES OF INTEMPERANCE AS A VICE. 5 censured by society, then shunned, then highest scale of religious scrupulosity, despised, and finally abhorred; just ac- take this quantity,' and'more, and deem it cording to the progressive stages by which right to take it, even to double or treble it he has become less capable of understand- as occasion may demand, it must be strong ing what is right, and controlling his own evidence that quantity, as regards a few inclinations to what is wrong. thousand drops, can be of little conseIt is another striking feature in the quence. Still there is, there must be a character of intemperance as a vice, that precise point at which mankind ought to it commences not only under the sanction stop, or why is the unanimous voice of of the low, but under that of what is call- society lifted up'against the intemperate? ed the best society; not only under the But why, above all,'are we told that no sanction of the world, but under that of drunkard can enter the kingdom of Jeavreligious professors, who believe them- en? selves called out of darkness into light. Ask this question of a hundred persons, It begins with the first welcome which and they will in all probability each give kind and Christian- friends assemble to you a different account of the measuregive to a young immortal being, just ush- ment by which they ascertain at what ered into a state of probation, by which it point intemperance begins; because there is to be fitted for eternity; and it extends are all the different habits and constitu. through all the most social and cheering, tions of mankind to be taken into account, as well as through many of the most as well as all the different degrees of po. lasting and sacred associations we form on tency in the intoxicating draught, accordearth; until at last, when the tie is bro- ing to its name and quality. Of twenty ken, and the grave receives our lost and persons seated at the same table, and reloved, the solemn scene is closed, and the galing themselves with the same wine, it mourner's heart is soothed, by the com- is more than probable that the fatal drop mencement of intemperance. at which intemperance begins, would not I say the commencement, for who can be in the same' glass with any two among tell at what draught, what portion of a them. Who. then shall decide this modraught, what drop, for it must really mentous question? for it is momentous, come to this Klwho can say, then, at what since eternal condemnation depends upon drop of the potent cup sobriety ceases, it. Let us reduce the number of persons, and intemperance begins? The intem- and see whether by this means the case perate man himself cannot tell, for it has will be more clear. We will suppose, justly been observed, that "instead of then, that three persons sit down to table feeling that he is taking too much, his to take their wine, or whatever it may be, only impression is, that he has not'had in what is called an innocent and social enough." Who then shall warn him? way. Out of this small number, it is Even if he were in a condition to listen possible that one may commit a deadly sin to remonstrance, who should be his judge? without taking more than the others. Yet If it be perfectly innocent, nay right, in to him it is sin, simply because the drop the first instance to partake of this bever.- of transition between good and evil, from age, say to the extent of two thousand the peculiar constitution of his bodily drops; if all sorts of persons, up to the frame, occurs in his glass at an earlier 6 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. stage than it does with the others. These plied to as unimpaired; nor would any three men, consequently, rise from that ta. other of the faculties of the mind have ble according to the opinion of the world suffered in the slightest degree from the in a totally different moral state, for one commission of a dishonest deed. Neither has been guilty of a degrading vice, and are there any degrees of theft openly the others are perfectly innocent. Yet all countenanced by the world, and by relihave done the same thing. Who then, I gious society. We will not say that there would ask again, is to decide in such a are not tricks in trade, and dishonest case? I repeat, it cannot be the guilty practices which exist to the discredit of man himself, because that very line which our country and our profession, but they constitutes the minute transition between are chiefly done in secret, and acknowla state of innocence and a state of sin, is edged, at least in the pulpit, to be wrong. the same at which he ceased to be able Another characteristic of intemperance clearly to distinguish between one and the is, that it often begins in what are considother. ered the happiest and most social molt is impossible, then, that this questiond ments of a person's life. It begins when should ever be decided, unless every one the hospitable board is spread, and when who indulges in the use of such beverage friend meets friend; when the winter's would take the trouble to calculate the fire is blazing; when the summer's ramexact distance between the extremes of ble is finished; on the eve of parting, sobriety and intoxication, not only com- when moments glide away with the preputed by every variety of liquid in which ciousness of hours; when hearts warm alcohol is contained, but by every variety towards each other; when broken confiof bodily sensation which he may be liable dence is restored; when the father welto experience. This calculation will comes back his son; and when the young bring him to one particular point, which and trusting bride first enters her new may not improperly be called the point of home. All these, and tens of thousands transition, at which positive evil begins, of associations, all as tender, and some of and beyond which it is a positive sin to them more dear, are interwoven with our go. Who, then, I ask again, shall fix this recollections of the tempting draught, point? It must of necessity be left to the which of itself demands no borrowed calculations of the man whose inclination sweets. in the hour of temptation is not to see it, How different from this are all other whose desire is to step over it, and whose vices! Injurious to society in the first perceptions at that time are so clouded instance, as well as in the last, selfish in and obscured, that he could not ascertain their own nature, and avowedly abhorred, it if he would. they no sooner appear in their naked Here, then, we see a marked difference form, than a check is put upon them by betwixt intemperance and every other the united voice of society. The thief is vice. Theft, for instance, is as much not welcomed into the bosom of kind famtheft at the beginning as it is at the end; ilies after he has been known to steal a and if a case should occur in which there little. The miser, whose evil propensiwas any doubt about the act being really ties are, next to intemperance, the most such, reason might immediately be ap- insidious in their nature, is spurned and PECULIARITIES OF INTEMPERANCE AS A VICE. 7 hated before his failing has becorhe a belonging to the lowest grade of human vice. And so it is with all who sin in beings, frequenters of vicious haunts, and other ways. They are acknowledged to perpetrators of every abomination. It is be dangerous as companions, and injuri- a melancholy truth that such for the most ous as citizens, in the commencement of part they become; but it is equally true, their guilt. It is only by denying a that many, if not most of them, have knowledge of their actual conduct, that been thinned out from the ranks of honest they are supported and countenanced and of honorable men, whose principles even by their friends. Sofar as they are and habits were precisely the same as acknowledged to be guilty, they are con- their own, in the first instance, but whose demned, though having sinned but a bodily constitution, and whose powers of little; while the victim of intemperance self-mastery, were stronger, and who alone carries with him the sanction of so- thus happened to remain on the safe side ciety long after the commencement of his of the transition line. career; nay, he drinks of the very same I would not, for an instant, be supposed bowl with the religious professor until he to doubt the efficacy of constant watchfulhas lost the power to refrain. ness, under the influence of religious prinThe victim of intemperance may have ciple; and, above every other consideraoriginally sat down to the same cneering tion, the all-sufficient power of that Divine draught as the religious man. He may assistance, which alone can be expected in have been his friend. But it sd happens answer to fervent and heartfelt prayer. I that his constitution of body is different. would not insinuate a doubt that thousands With him the transition point occurs at have not been prevented by this means an earlier period than with the other. from going too far, even under the critical He passes this without being aware of his circumstances already described. But I danger, and his mastery over himself is speak of people generally-of society as lost. What horror then seizes the reli- it is constituted-of things as they are; gious man, not against himself for having and I speak under the conviction, that, partaken with his friend, but against that notwithstanding all the efforts of ministers friend for having gone too far. Had he of religion, and of zealous and devoted begun with him to commit a little theft, friends to the promotion of the Gospel of or to tell a slight falsehood, and his friend Christ, some additional effort is required, had gone too far, he would have blamed and some other means are necessary, in himself for the remainder of his life for order to rescue from destruction the thoubeing accessory to the downfall of that sands who now fill the ranks of intemperfriend; but here he starts back, considers ance, and the thousands beyond these, himself, and is considered by others, as who, from cultivating the same habits, are perfectly innocent; while his friend, who following unconsciously in the same fatal has committed nothing but a little more of course. the very same act, is shunned as degrad.- There is another important point of difed, and denounced as guilty. ference betwixt the victims of intemperThe voice of society is most injurious, ance and those who are addicted to any and unfair, with regard to intemperate other vice. The dishonest man begins persons. They are classed together as his guilty course with a meanness of pur30 8 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. pose, and a degradation of soul, which sons'to whom enjoyment is too intense, mark him out as a stain upon the society and suffering too wretched, to be experi-. of which he forms a part. The miser enced with equanimity of mind —to whom cherishes, along with his thirst for gold, a a social hour with chosen friends is absohardness, a grudging, and sometimes a lute felicity, and a wounded spirit death. hatred against his fellow-beings. And so To such the intoxicating draught has it is throughout the whole catalogue of ever been the strongest temptation, because, evil, which marks the downward progress while on the one hand, it seemed for the of degraded and guilty men. They are moment to heighten every pleasure, on the guilty and polluted even before the vices other it has, for a season equally transient, to which they addict themselves are com- the power of smoothing off the edge of mitted. They are guilty before the world, every pain. and obnoxious to the open censure of so. Again, we all know the force with which ciety, just in proportion as they have har- certain bodily diseases operate upon the bored a thought, a conception, or a de. mind; we know that the sensation of persign, inimical to its well-being, and de- fect health is enlivening to the mental structive of its peace. But the intemper- faculties, and even cheering to the soul. ate man begins his career with no such In this state we can form and execute malevolent feeling. He begins it, most plans of which we should have been in, frequently, without a wrong intention at capable under certain kinds of sickness, all; and is often-alas! too often-the even had the power of action been unimkindest of the kind, the favorite guest, paired. Thus the mind is in a great dethe beloved companion of those who cheer. gree dependent upon the body, and espefully accompany him along the first stage cially those functions of the body, with of his dangerous career. It is, however, which nervous sensation is most intimately the most lamentable feature in his case, connected. In a state of nervous disorder, that although he may thus begin with a the powers of perception, judgment, and noble, generous, and affectionate heart, he decision, are so far deranged, that even invariably becomes mean, selfish, and even /conscience ceases to exercise a just and cruel. lawful influence, and ideas are conceived, An impartial observation of the world and actions performed, under a total in. will, I believe, support me, when I repeat, capacity for clearly distinguishing right that the habitually intemperate are, for from wrong. the most part, persons who have been Inebriation, from the effect it produces originally social, benevolent, and tender- upon the stomach and the brain, has a hearted, lovers of their fellow-men, of more instantaneous influence upon the cordial meetings, and of those gatherings nervous system, and consequently upon together of congenial spirits, which it the mind, than any other disease. There would be impossible for a harder and less are of course, degrees of this influence, feeling nature so fully to enjoy. They beginning first with the slightly pleasurare persons who, from excessive sensibili. able sensation which some persons experity to pain and pleasure, are liable to be ence after drinking a single glass of wine, too much elated by the one, and depressed and extending to the last and fatal draught by the other, for their own peace-per. of the poor outcast from respectable socie PECULIARITIES OF INTEMPERANCE AS A VICE. 9 ty. It is often asked) why does not the dividuals of the next more scrupulously drunkard stop? and he is sometimes most upon their guard against the same lamentseverely blamed for taking too much, by able fate, and ultimate safety often de. those who take only a little less. But pends upon an early apprehension of dan. how should he stop, when his mind has ger. But there is in the bodily constitulost its healthy tone in consequence of the tion of such families a peculiar liability particular state of his body? —when he which ought to render them the objects of ceases to be capable of distinguishing be- the tenderest sympathy, and the most twixt good and evil, and cares not for any watchful care to others. There is in their consequences that may come upon him? very nature, if once excited, an aching How should he stop? It is a mockery of want of that stimulus, which even a very common sense, and an insult to common slight degree of intoxication supplies; and feeling, to suppose that of himself, and when once this want is gratified, it inunaided, he should have the power to do creases to such a degree, as to resemble so. At that critical moment he has not a consuming fire, whose torment nothing even the toish to stop. So far from it, his can alleviate, but constant libations of the inclination is on the opposite side, and the same deadly draught. whole force of his animal nature, with an Now it is quite impossible we should excess of bodily appetite, are increasing on know, when mixing in general society, the side of evil, in the same proportion that where and when we may meet with indihis mental capabilities, his conscience, and viduals of this constitutional tendency; his power of self-mastery, are becoming for even with children of the most reweaker on the side of good. spectable parents, it sometimes prevails to And this is the man of whom the world an alarming extent. Perhaps we sit judges so hardly, because he has passed down to table with twenty persons, and unconsciously the forbidden line-because among them is one of those to whom the he has never been able to ascertain ex- cup of which others are drinking, as they actly where it was —and, most probably, believe innocently, is the cup of poison because from some natural constitution of and of death. Perhaps that one is a fabody, the same draught which was safely ther's hope, or the only child of a widdrunk by another, wa~ one of fearful peril owed mother, or the beloved and betrothed to him. of a young and trusting heart, about to The original construction of the bodily become the father of a family, the head frame has much to do with the diseases to of a:household, and himself in his turn an which we are liable through the whole of' example and a guide to others. His our lives. There are hereditary tenden. *friends drink with him. Theyall partake cies which the skill of the physician, the, in safety, but within his bosom the latent care of the parent, and the advice of the elements of destruction are set on fire, and friend are strenuously exerted to correct. he plunges headlong into shame, and miseIn no case are hereditary tendencies more,, ry, and ruin. To a certain extent his striking than in the children of intem friends have gone along with him. They perate parents. It is true the very excess, have even pressed and encouraged hin no and consequent ruin of one generation, partake; but no sooner do they perceive not unfrequently tend to place certain in- that he has overstepped a certain dubious 10 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. and almost imperceptible limit —or in believing that safety dwells with us, but other words, that his bodily frame has not more especially if they beam from the been able to sustain what they have borne fair countenance of woman-oh, if at tne uninjured-than they turn from him, and same moment we could look upon the acknowledge him no more as a companion misery and the guilt that would ensue to and a friend. They are, in fact, ashamed the being thus regarding us, and thus to be seen with him. He loses caste plunging into perdition from our example, among them, becomes a marked man, and what should we say to the Christian man is finally left to perish as an object of dis- or woman, who could esteem a trifling act gust and loathing, too gross to be re- of self-denial-of mere bodily privationclaimed, and too low for pity. as too great a sacrifice to be made on such Nor is it with those who are constitu- an occasion! tionally liable alone that this bodily ten- " Oh, but!" the indignant exclamation dency exists. The habit of intemperance is, "we do not meet with persons of this itself creates it; and thousands who have kind in respectable society. We do not begun their ruinous career simply out of sit down with such at table. The haunts compliance with the usages of society, of vice are where they resort. We can and not a few who have done so under have nothing to do with their excesses." medical advice, have acquired, for certain From whence then has come that dekinds of stimulants, and sometimes for all, graded figure, with his tattered garments, an habitual craving, which they have ul- yet with the air of gentility still about timately sacrificed every other considera- him? From whence has come that tion to gratify. How do we know then, wretched female, shrinking from the pubin mixing with society, but that we are lie gaze, as if the remembrance of her sitting down to table with some individual childhood, and the honored roof beneath who has just arrived at the turning point which her girlish footsteps trod, was yet in this career?-one who has just begun too strong for that burning fire to conto suspect his own danger, who is hang- sume, or that fatal flood to drown? Aing, as the weak always do, upon the ex- mong the six hundred thousand victims ample of others,'and looking especially to of intemperance now in existence, are religious people, to seb what sanction they there not many such as these?-many may give to an indulgence for which he who have known what it was to be reis ever in search of an excuse? How do spectably brought up, who had better we know, among the many with whom thoughts, and purer feelings, in their we associate, and whose private history is youth, and who shrunk, as we do now, untold to us-how do we know whose with horror and disgust from the contemeyes may be fixed upon us, with anxious plation of a figure presenting such a hope that we shall go along with them in wreck of humanity as theirs? the course they are so desirous to pursue, But acknowledging that these six hunthough they would still wish to pursue it dred thousand persons are already lostwithout condemnation or guilt. Now, if that their doom is sealed —that they are these eyes should be beaming from a beyond the reach of our influence, and young and trusting heart, unconscious of beneath even our charity to pity as we pass the whole extent of the danger, and fondly them by-acknowledging what is a well PECULIARITIES OF INTEMPERANCE AS A VICE. 11 authenticated fact, that sixty thousand of by comparison, to those he would leave these die annually-what shall we say of behind. the sixty thousand who will, during the And what shall we say in addition to all course of this year, come forward to sup- this, of the sum of misery by which our ply their place in the ranks of intemper- land is deluged, of the thousands of widows, ance? Let us pause a moment to con- and tens of thousands of orphans, the template the awful fact, that unless res- broken-hearted women and the destitute cued from destruction by some extraordi- children, the household happiness denary interposition of Divine Providence, stroyed, and the golden promises blighted, there will be sixty thousand persons en- for which we have to blame the drinking tered upon the list of intemperance during habits of our country, habits which are the present year, and that an equal num- still sanctioned in the commencement by ber, before twelve months have passed, the respectable, and even the religious will have died the death of those of whom part of the community? What shall we it is clearly stated, that none can enter the say of the waste of precious hours, which kingdom of heaven! has been computed at the rate of " fifty Yet, after all, the actual death of these millions per annum, lost to this country persons, violent, and distressing, and hope- merely from the waste of time, and conless as such deaths generally are-their sequent loss of labor, owing to habits of actual death must not be considered as by intemperance?" What shall we say to any means the extent of the evil of intem- the " loss of useful lives and valuable properance in any single case. I have al- perty from the same cause, on the land ready stated, that although intemperance by fires, and other casualties, and on the often begins with unconsciousness of evil, sea by shipwrecks?" What shall we in connection with social feeling, and be- say to all these facts, for they are suchnevolence of heart, and often, too, with and British women, however high their high intellectual advantages, it almost in- station, or refined their sensibilities, ought variably ends in every species of degra- to know that they are so-facts written on dation to which human nature is liable- the page of eternity, for which time, the in falsehood, meanness, profanity, and very time in which we live, will have to every description of vice. Thus there is render its long and fearful account. a bad atmosphere surrounding each one But let us not be discouraged by dwellof these individuals, which taints, and of- ing too long upon some of the dark picten poisons, the moral feelings of those tures which this view of human life prewho breathe within it. Besides which, sents. Even this melancholy page has its every one who feels himself to have over- bright side, to which we turn with gratistepped what the world considers as the tude and hope; for is it not our privilege bounds of propriety, feels an interest in to live in a state of society among which drawing others down along with him into has sprung up an association of love, the same gulf. His influence is conse- whose banner is a refuge for the destitute quently exerted over the unwary, the under which all may unite-the rich and trusting, and the weak, and often exerted the poor, the strong and the weak-for the in such a manner, that his death, awful purpose of arresting the fearful progress as that might be, would still be a blessing, of intemperance, and encouraging those I~~ ~ ~~~~~~~o itmeac, a n ecuainths 12 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. who, under bodily suffering and mental which once seemed so hopeless, that the depression, are struggling to escape from boldest enthusiast hardly dared to dream the fatal grasp of this gigantic and tyrant of it-which had so entrenched itself' in foe? Yes, it is an unspeakable privilege the passions of men, in their habits, in to live at the same time that such an as- their laws, in their interests, that it laugh. sociation is gaining ground on every hand, ed defiance at all opposition. Against enlisting numbers, and gathering strength, that evil, this principle of disinterestedas we fervently believe, under the blessing ness has been brought to bear; and the of Divine Providence, from the same evil has begun to give way. An illustrisource as that which inspired the Apostle, ous exemplification of the strength there when he pledged himself to act upon the is in Christian affection!" principle which has ever become the basis of this association for the removal of intemperance-" Wherefore, said he, if meat cause my brother to ofend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I CHAPTER II. make my brother to ofend." "Occasions for displaying the same INTEMPERANCE AS IT OPERATES UPON INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER. generous disregard of selfish considerations, for the benefit of others, frequently INTEMPERANCE, as it operates upon inoccur; and instances of such disinterest- dividuals, consists in the degree or extent edness are not so rare in the Christian of a certain act, and not in the act itself. world as to be matters of wonder. But All persons allow that intemperance is a perhaps never, until the present age, has destructive and loathsome vice, and we this principle been made the motto of a are expressly told in the Scriptures that great action of philanthropy; never be- no drunkard can enter the kingdom of fore did thousands unite together for the God; yet at the same time it is mainmoral benefit of their fellow-men, by tained by religious persons of every demeans of an express abridgment of their nomination, and to them we trust it is so, own liberty of indulgence. And, after that drinking a small quantity of intoxi. all that has been pointed out as dis- eating liquid is perfectly right. We will tinguishing this remarkable period, per- suppose, then, that drinking a hundred haps nothing is more worthy of being re- thousand drops of this liquid is a sin of garded as its distinction, in a moral point the deadliest character, since it excludes of view, than this-that multitudes have from the blessedness of heaven, and that abandoned-not for a time, but for life — drinking ten thousand drops is not only a customary, innocent, moderate gratifi- right in itself, but an act which may with cation, which did them personally no propriety be associated with many of our harm, on the single ground that others observances of religious duty. I repeat, abused it to harm —that'this liberty of then, there must be between these two theirs was a stumbling-block to the weak.' extremes a portion, a measure, nay even In this way an attempt has been made to a drop at which propriety ceases, and imbegin the removal of a great mass of propriety begins; and however delicate crime and wretchedness; the removal of may be the shades of difference towards INTEMPERANCE AS IT OPERATES UPON INDIVIDUALS. 13 this blending point, it is of the utmost im- sweet counsel together, and feel themportance to religious professors, and in- selves spiritually as well as corporeally deed tc all who love their fellow-men, refreshed. They retire from the table'c tnat they should be able to say exactly look out upon the moving world arounj. where the line is, and to show it to others, They behold the poor outcast from sobefore they venture to set an example to ciety, the victim of intemperance, and the world by venturing upon a course, their (elicacy is wounded by the sight, which, if pursued too far, must inevita- and they shrink with horror from his debly end in ruin and death, and which can gradation and his shame. Yet that man's only be entered upon with perfect safety crisis of danger occurred perhaps only a by ascertaining what has never yet been very little earlier than theirs. He began discovered, exactly where the point of the same course in precisely the same danger is. way. He had no more intention, and no What, for instance, should we think of more fear, of passing the summit of the the wisdom of that man, who should go hill than they have now; but owing to blindfold up an elevated plain, knowing his bodily conformation, of which he was that from its summit, a slippery and un- not aware until he made the experiment, certain point, whose locality he had no owing to the peculiar nature of the draught means of determining, his course would of which he partook, to the manner or the tend downwards with accelerated speed, place in which it was presented to him, and that thousands and tens of thousands but more probably than all, to the appahad perished by arriving at this point rent safety of such men as those who are sooner than they had anticipated. What now turning from the repulsive spectacle should we think if his object in choosing that his emaciated frame presents, he to venture on this path was not any actual overstepped the line of safety before he necessity, but a mere momentary gratifi- was aware, and perished on the side qf cation, to feel the coolness of the turf be- misery and guilt. neath his feet, or the scent of sweet flow- If a religious parent has a son addicted ers by the way? We should scarcely to the vice of gambling, he does not sit point out such a man as an example of down with him to what is called an innothe influence of common sense upon his cent game, that is, to play without money. conduct, much less should we wish to fol- He does not resort with him to the billiard low in his steps; for though the point of table, even though betting should be scrudanger might be distant to him, it might, pulously forbidden there. No, the very from its irregular and uneven nature, be thoughtof the amusement, simplyconsidervery near to us. ed as such, becomes abhorrent to his feelYet we see every day, and sometimes ings; and comparing the vast amount of oftener than the day, well-educated, en- mischief which has been done by this lightened, benevolent, and even religious means, with the small amount of good, he persons, sit down to the cheering glass banishes entirely from his house both the of social entertainment, and while they cards and the dice, that he may avoid all take that, and perhaps another, and it future injury to his son by putting from may be a third, they talk of subjects him even the appearance of evil. refined, sublime, and elevated, and take It is upon the same principle that few 14 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. religious people in the present day will which claims, for this very reason, our take into their hands a pack of cards, especial- sympathy and peculiar care. though all must be aware that there is We should never forget, then, that the nothing absolutely wrong in the painted nearer the evil of drinking wine or anly paper, nor even in the game itself, beyond other intoxicating beverage approaches to its loss of time. Yet from all appearance sin, the less the mind perceives it, the less I of evil in this particular form, they think in short it is capable of understanding themselves called upon to abstain, not only what sin is, so that by the time the point because of the crime and the misery to of danger is passed, there remains little which gaming has led, but because the ability to perceive that it is so, and then very nature of it is opposed to the spirit of a little further and a little further still, the Gospel. From appearing to have any and neither power nor inclination is left to connection whatever with what has been return. applied to purposes so base, they very pro- It may very properly be argued that perly shrink with horror; but from ap- the individual who has once been guilty pearing to be connected with what has of this breach of decorum and propriety, been the cause of another species of iniqui- must know that the intoxicating draught ty still wider in its extent, and more insid- is dangerous to him, whatever it may be ious it its nature, they feel no repulsion to others. Unquestionably he does, and whatever. he feels, after having once fallen, more But to return to the consideration of in- certain that he will never fall again. He temperance as it operates individually. It thinks he shall now know where to stop is a remarkable fact, that all persons begin for the remainder of his life, and he bethis habit of indulgence innocently, or in gins again very cautiously at first, conother words, without the least intention of gratulating himself, after a great many becoming intemperate. Whatever their successful efforts, upon having so often situation may be now, time was when they stopped on the right side of the point of sat around the social bowl, as unconcious danger. As his confidence increases howof evil as you are at this moment. By ever, he ventures further, for he has acdegrees, however, the potent draught be- quired a taste for the indulgence, and he came pleasant to them, so pleasant that likes the stimulus it gives to his animal they ventured nearer to the point of dan- frame, and the elasticity it imparts to his ger; and then, as has already been stated, spirits. He likes too the feeling that he the nearer thy approached, the more care- is not bound, or shackled; that he is able less they grew whether they overstepped to associate on equal terms with other the line or not. If, in such a situation, a men, and can and dare do as he pleases. human being could retain the full posses- In this mood then he passes again the sion of his senses, he would know that the point of danger, and finds again, on refurther he advanced in such a course the turning to his senses, the folly and the sin greater his danger would be; but the very he has committed. Still, however, he is opposite of this being the fact, and the not cast down. He has no more idea that perceptions of the intemperate man be. he shall ever become an irreclaimably coming more dim in the exact proportion intemperate mai, than you have that the Ias his danger increases, his case is one drunkard's grave will be yours. He is INTEMPERANCE AS IT OPERATES UPON INDIVIDUALS. 15 j quite sure that he can stop when he likes. ately with him, and point out clearly to Society of the best kind, and friends of him the rock on which he is in danger of the most respectable order, all tell him being wrecked. Suppose he sees that that he can, and he is but too willing to danger too, and is brought to feel it as he believe it. With this assurance they ought, and promises and purposes with all place before him the temptation. They sincerity of heart to avoid it for the rest invite him to partake, and if he should by of his life. What follows? He mixes any strange misapplication of their kind- in society with the friends who have warnness go too far, they wash their hands of ed him, and with others, who believe themhis guilt-it is his, and not theirs.* selves to be, and who probaby are, perIt is strange that sympathizing, benev- fectly safe. Every board is supplied with olent, and well-disposed persons should be the tempting draught. The hospitality able to look upon individuals in this state of the world requires that he, as well as -should see their weakness and their others, should be pressed to partake. temptation, and yet never once think there Why should he not? He has no more is any thing due from them towards a intention of partaking to excess than the brother or a sister having just arrived at most prudent person present. So far from such a crisis of their fate. Indeed we this, he is determined, resolute, and cerare all perhaps too backward in offering tain that he will not exceed the limits of advice or warning. We have much to propriety. He therefore joins his friends say, and often say it harshly, and with on equal terms; and who shall say, if little charitable feeling, when the case is they are innocent, that he is not? It is decided; but the time to speak, and to true, his crisis of danger has approached speak urgently-to speak kindly too, as nearer to him, while theirs remains as brothers or sisters in weakness, and fel- distant as before. It is true his power of low travellers on the same path-the time self-mastery is considerably decreased. to speak with prayer and supplication-to It is true his bodily inclination is opposed speak with the Bible in our hands, the to his will. Yet so long as other men, eye of a righteous God above us, and the and good men too, nay, even delicate, grave, that long home to which we are correct, and kind-feeling women, are par. all hastening, beneath our feet —the time taking of what is more agreeable, and to speak thus, is while the victim still quite as necessary to him as to them, lingers, before offering himself up to that who is there so ignorant of human nature, idol whose garlands of vine leaves are the as to expect that such a man. unaided, badge of death. should be able to stop exactly at:he point But suppose the friends of the poor where innocence ceases, and where guilt tempted one do warn him of his danger. begins? Again, I repeat, it is a mockery Suppose they deal faithfully and affection- of common sense to look for such a result, and it is cruelty to require it. * The extent and variety of temptation to No; such are the usages of society, which individuals are thus exposed, is forcibly that an individual in the state here deshown in anA.mportant and valuable work by John Dunlop, Esq., on "the Driiking Usages" of scribed is almost sure to plunge deeper our country, a work which ought to be in the vice of intemperance, hands of every patriot Englishman. until in time he grows a little too bad for 16 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE tha, society to countenance or endure. ignorant, and the utterly depraved, but His early friends, those who set out with from the highly gifted, the enlightened, him in the same career, then begin to and the refined. She answered the appeal look coldly upon him. They wish he in every instance by dwelling upon the would not claim them as friends, at least efficacy of prayer; but at that time there in public. He next falls out of employ- was scarcely power to pray, and neither ment; he is not eligible for any place of courage nor resolution to make the attrust; he begins to hang about, and his tempt. It is a subject of bitter regret at former acquaintance endeavor to walk this moment, that she was then unacpast him without catching his eye. At quainted with the principle upon which last he becomes low,-his coat is thread- the total abstinence society subsists, that bare; his hat is brown; he is a doomed she did not say with promptness and man; his best friends forsake him; the cheerfulness in her self-denial, " Let us good point him out as a warning to the make an agreement together that we will bad; he is a terror to women, and a taste no more this poisonous cup; it is laughing-stock to children, —and such are pleasant to me as well as to you, but it is the tender mercies of the world in which not necessary to health or cheerfulness; we live! let us, therefore, make the experiment of It makes the heart ache to think how abstaining from it altogether, and what much has been said against-how little you suffer, I will suffer too." By this for-the victim of intemperance. We means it is probable that others —perhaps see the degradation, the shame, and the a whole household, might have been misery into which he has fallen; but brought to join us; and how different the who is the witness of his moments of peni- case would then have been from what it tence, his heart-struggles, his faint but was, while the intoxicating draught was still persevering resolves-faint, because constantly brought out, while it was he has no longer the moral power to save pressed upon all, and while every one himself-persevering, because he is not partook of the refreshment it was supyet altogether lost? If there be one posed to afford! spectacle on earth more affecting than I repeat, there is nothing more affecting all others, it is that of a human being than the contemplation of the victim of mastered by temptation, yet consciousx intemperance, while the conscience still that the vice to which he yields is a cruel remains alive to better things, and before tyrant, from whose giant grasp he still the soul is utterly degraded. In this situastruggles to be free. The writer of these tion, it appears as if the whole world, pages has been appealed to again and parents, friends, associates, even the wise again by the victim of intemperance, to and the good, were in league against cay whether there was still hope-whe- them. Nor is this all. Those bodily ther the door of mercy was closed —whe- powers which to the thief anc the murder. ther resistance to the enemy was still er are still left free and urimpaired, to possible-whether the poor sufferer must the intemperate man are no longer under inevitably be an outcast forever? Not his own command. His whole frame is dein one instance only, but in many, has bilitated, his nerves are shattered, and that this been her experience; not from the excruciating agony, which is the result INTEMPERANCE AS IT OPERATES UPON INDIVIDUALS 17 of an excited imagination, operating in can possibly produce the effect of intoxiconjunction with a disordered brain, so cation. Do any of his friends —those sin. takes possession of him, that the hours of cere well-wishers, who shudder at the the long day, and the longer night, are prospect of what he might bring upon only to be endured by having recourse to himself-do any of these connect them, draughts of greater potency, and more fre- selves with him in this resolve, and say quent repetition. that, in the path of safety and of self-deIt frequently happens, that some severe nial, they will walk by his side? No. or trying illness is sent to arrest this more He makes his resolution unaided and dangerous disease in its destructive course. alone; and that very act which is so neThe patient then has time to think. He cessary, as the only means of rescuing has time to pray too, if he uses his privi- him from ultimate ruin, becomes, in conseleges aright; and there is every reason to quence of no one joining him in it, a badge believe that many who rise up from such of disgraceful distinction. In fact, he is a bed of suffering, do go forth into the a marked man; and when he goes into world again disposed to be both wiser and society, it is not to do as others do, but to better men. And what, we ask again, is confess by the rule he has laid down for the result? In this debilitated state the himself, that he is weaker than they are, physician recommends that what are call- and that he has already been guilty of ed strengthening beverages should be ta- folly and of sin. ken in moderation. Kind friends are of- By abstaining only when there is urgent fering them on every hand; and when need to do so-only after excess has been the patient goes into society again, lie goes committed —only when the individual who as a sober man, and therefore he may take practices this needful caution is so weak them with safety-as a man reclaimed as not to be trusted with the common from drunkenness, and therefore he may usages of society, he is stamped at once begin to drink again! with the stigma of intemperance, and his Need we further trace out this mourn- disgrace is more than he can bear. It ful history, as repulsive as it is melancho- may be said that he ought to bear it, and ly to contemplate. Such it cannot be de- that on him alone ought to rest the consenied has been the fate of thousands, of quences of his past folly; but I would ask tens of thousands, and such is the expe- -Do men bear it? No; and no good rience of many at this time. We will, has ever yet been effected by arguing uphowever, take a different view of the same on, or endeavoring to enforce, what is subject, and suppose the case of an in- contrary to the principles that are in hutemperate man, who makes the same ef- man nature-principles that have regufort to abstain at an earlier stage of his lated the actions of mankind from tne becareer, and in a different manner. He is ginning of the world, and that will regu. one who feels himself convicted of sinful late them to the end. These principles I excess, and who feels also that nothing but may be brought under a better influence, I total abstinence will save him from its and made to act in unison with those of woful consequences. He therefore binds the Gospel of Christ; but they are not himself singly, not only by a firm resolve, rendered extinct, and never can be in our but also by a vow, to taste nothing that present state of existence. 18 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. It is too much then to expect of man, friends, who are stronger than himself, in his natural and unregenerate state, that calling out to him to take more care for he should be willing-nay, that he should the future, not to go too near, but never be able-to mix with society as it is now recommending him not to try the path at constituted on such terms; but for a wo- all. At length he resolves to walk no man it would be still worse. What! shall more so near the edge of danger; and I declare openly, when others sip their though the safer and more distant palh is pleasant and refreshing beverage, that I rough and uninteresting, and none walk dare not drink even moderately of the in it but such as are avowedly in danger same draught!-that I have once gone too from their natural weakness, he tries it for far, or am liable to do so again! The a while. The flowery and pleasant path, very case is revolting to human nature; however, is still the resort of his friends and those who make this argument the and associates, some of whom invite him burden of their low witticisms upon the back, while many laugh at his inability advocates for total abstinence, know little to do as they are doing, and thus he is inof the purity of motive, the deep feeling, duced to make the experiment once more, the generous impulse, and the disinter- when his natural powers being now imested benevolence upon which such per- paired by the many accidents he has sons act. brought upon himself, he falls again, with From the causes already described, less capacity than ever to struggle against more than from any other, those who the devouring flood. He now sinks lower have felt themselves to be in danger, and and deeper among the foaming waves, would gladly escape from their enemy, while from those who still walk in safety begin again in the same course, in com- on the edge of the precipice, from the very pliance with the usages of society, and same individuals who lured him back, very naturally fall again into the same expressions of anger and contempt burst excess. The history of intemperance has forth, with, perhaps, occasionally the faint been almost universally a history of suc- wailings of compassion, or the fainter cessive alternations between sinning and lamentations of affectionate regret. And repenting, between seasons of compunc- do none cry out to him, "Try yet once tion accompanied with fresh resolves, and more, and we will walk with you on that the same course of unintentional declen- uninviting path?" Is there no band of sion which has led to the same end; with brothers ready to come forward for his this difference, that the power to will and sake? Are there no sisters, linked hand the wish to act have been weaker after in hand, to promise they will never leave every fall. It has been altogether like his side, but cheer him on, so as, if possithe case of a man with a naturally weak ble, to make it a pastime and a joy to brain, who should walk on a pleasant and walk with them even there? Is there no tempting path by the side of a precipice mother's voice to cry, " My son! my son! overhanging a dangerous flood He falls for thy sake will I never, as I have done, in, as might be expected, but recovers tread again that dangerous cliff-to me it himself, and tries the same path again. might be safe, but since thy precious life The experiment is repeated, and the same is thus endangered, what are its flowers, consequences follow; his companions and its fragrance, or its grassy turf to me, in INTEMPERANCE AS IT OPERATES UPON INDIVIDUALS. 19 [ comparison with the safety of my child?" vice his friends can do him is to endeavor No; they all pass on —some with cruel to raise his moral standing, it must necesmockery, others, it is true, with grief- sarily be the object of this Society to ren. I but the victim is consigned to his fate, and der it respectable, so that no man may ba I the kindest only-let him alone. degraded among his fellow-men by joining On looking at the subject in this point it. That so noble and benevolent an obof view, we see at once the beauty and ject should be in any way defeated by the the efficacy of the principle upon which backwardness, nay, the opposition of any temperance societies are established. If among the enlightened and benevolent a society for the suppression of this vice classes of the community, is one of the were to consist exclusively of those who wonders of our day. " Yet still they have had been addicted to it, there would be " come from the east and from the west, disgrace and repulsion in the very name. both men and women, who were without Few, except persons altogether lost to hope in the world, and many of whom are shame, would have the courage to enrol now sitting clothed and in their right mind, their names in such a list; and the less giving thanks in the house of God, and shame was left, the deeper would be the offering. up their prayers with the multistigma upon a community of such individ- tude, whose privilege it is to call upon uals. The thing, indeed, would be mor-:~ His name. And still, notwithstanding all ally impossible, as much so, as for a few that has been thought, and felt, and done dishonest men to associate themselves to. against this Society, thousands and thougether, and to say, "We will form a sands of helpless creatures have been resociety for the suppression of theft, by in- claimed; from outcasts, have become viting all who have gone too far in that blessings-from burdens, are helpersvice to join us." from the shame, have come to be the joy But the Temperance Society is based on of heart-broken friends.' This is the a more rational, a more firm, and a more Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our lasting foundation. Men, and women, too, eyes.' It is going on; and say what we who have never had to fear temptation may, what need not be denied of some I for themselves, and these to the extent of doubtful procedures, of some unwise hundreds of thousands, have linked them- speeches, of some injudicious measures, selves together by union of purpose for the of some even apparently rescued who general good, and have bound themselves, have sunk back; still there remains amnot by a vow, but by a public pledge, ple room to believe the reform so far com. which may at any time be withdrawn,. plete, that the next generation will know that while members of that society they almost nothing of the curse which has will not partake of what, though innocent burdened the past." to them, has been the cause of an incalculable amount of crime and misery to their fellow-beings. Convinced of the important fact, that when the turning point in a man's life has MODERATION. come, when he wishes to cease to do evil, IF between the two extremes of perfect and to learn to do well, the kindest ser- innocence and actual sin, there is in the p — —?- -____ 20 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. act of drinking intoxicating beverages a cause they are considered essential to medium line at which the one ceases, and health; and by others, because they are the otner begins; there must also be be. agreeable in themselves, or in the feelings I tween that point and the extreme of inno. they produce. With all persons, howcence, another line at which safety ceases, ever, they have a peculiar tendency to and danger begins. We will, for the obtain power and mastery, because it is present, suppose this line to be fixed half. their nature to stimulate for a time, and way, though some of us are inclined to consequently to produce exhaustion afterthink it might be fixed upon the act alto. wards; according to that law in the hugether. Now as the line of sin seldom man constitution which Dr. Farre deoccurs at the same point with any two scribes, when he says, that " the circulaindividuals) and even differs with the same tion always falls off in a greater degree individuals at different times, according than it is forced." Hence the languor to the capability of the body for sustaining and weariness after fever, and faintness such stimulus, without exhibiting any out- and want of stimulus occurring periodi ward sign of derangement; as it differs cally with those who are accustomed to also according to the nature of the liquid resort to the excitement of wine for the partaken of, and as some maintain, ac- refreshment either of mind or body. cording to the circumstances under which There is also another law in our nature it is taken, and as danger always com- which renders excitement extremely demences at a certain distance from actual lightful. Indeed one would be almost sin, it must be extremely difficult, nay, tempted to think that, to a large proportion impossible to say exactly, where the line of the individuals who mix in general soof danger is, or I should rather say, where ciety, it was the one thing needful to their it is not. existence. There can be little doubt but Here, then, we see again the peculiar that this law has been originally laid nature of a vice which consists only in an down in wisdom, and in mercy, to urge increased degree of what is no vice at all; us on to action, and to prevent our wearying and hence arises the necessity of adopting in the pursuit of what is good; but how a mode of treatment, with regard to our has it been perverted from its original defellow-beings laboring under this particu- sign! We seek the world over for stimular temptation, which no other circum- lus to create the sensation we delight in, stances require. instead of being satisfied to enjoy, along Much has been said on the subject of with every act of duty, that natural exintoxicating beverages not being neces- citement which it has been so wisely inrary for our habitual use, and many able tended to produce. works, to which I would refer the reader, But the stimulus to which we most hahave been written to prove that they are bitually, and, according to the generally not only unnecessary, but actually inju~ received opinion, most lawfully resort, is rious. It is not my business to enter wine. We feel a little faint about the upon this subject here, further than sim- middle of the day, and we take it then. ply to ask-Why are they taken? They We are thus strengthened, and enabled to are taken by most persons because it is go out and make our calls, or to attend to customary to take them; by some, be- our duties in any other way. We can MODERATION. 21 even visit the poor, and we really do feel liquids; or is the body only brought into more vigor, more ability, and more cour. such a condition as to be made more easy I age to admonish them of their extrava- under their infliction, and more careless gance and excess, particularly in the way about them altogether? are they not in of intemperance, immediately after what reality superseded by other sensations of we call the necessary stimulus has been a pleasurable nature, so as to be no longer taken. We come back, however, exceed- felt or regarded? We know that a very ingly tired, and did not the dinner table slight degree of pain may be so soothedi present us with a fresh supply, we be- by gentle friction, and by other means of lieve we should scarcely be able to get a similar nature, as for a time scarcely to through the day. Our fathers and bro- be felt, and certainly not cared for; while thers, however, are surely not subject to a greater degree of suffering is often allethis faintness about the hour of noon? viated by inflicting other kinds of pain No; —but they come home reasonably, upon different parts of the body. If, then, and absolutely tired, and they, too, must the whole of our bodily sensations could have their strength restored by the same be just so far, and so agreeably, put in invigorating draughts. operation, that we should be wholly occuIf such then be the condition, and such pied with a lively and pervading sense of the habits, of persons in perfect health, indefinite pleasure, it is but reasonable to and easy circumstances, what must be the suppose that we should be rendered by measure of relief required from the sare this means not only insensible to, but medicine by the millions who are ill at wholly unconscious of, a moderate degree ease, who are suffering either from men. of pain in any particular part. This, tal anxiety, or bodily pain, or perhaps then, is precisely the manner in which from both? The human frame, even with intoxicating stimulants operate upon the the advantage of this wholesome and ne- bodily frame, except only in those very cessary stimulus, is subject to a variety few and partial cases where they are realof diseases, and uncomfortable sensations, ly calculated to do good, in all of which, which we are not only anxious to remove other and safer medicines might be subourselves, but which our kind friends are stituted in their stead. anxious to remove for us; and artificial In reasoning on this important subject, stimulus is thus resorted to, not to cure however, I must confess I am one of those these diseases, for that it cannot do-not who do not consider the question of health to remedy these uncomfortable sensations, as so deeply involved, as that of moral for they come again —but to make us feel responsibility. But the case has now them less. been tried for a sufficient length of time, I would here beg to claim the particular even in this country, to prove that without attention of the reader —for here the sub- any kind of intoxicating beverage, a state ject assumes a most serious and important of health as good-nay, even better, may aspect —and I would ask the question can- be enjoyed. Happily for our cause, there didly and kindly, are those diseases of the are hundreds and thousands of witnesses body, and those uncomfortable sensations now ready to attest the fact, that they to which I have alluded, really remedied, never were so well as since they totally or lastingly alleviated, by intoxicating abstained; while on the other hand, those j 22 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. who declare themselves incapable of doing not define their combined operation, exwithout such stimulus, almost invariably cept by saying, we feel better than before? show by an exhibition of some, or many And yet this very feeling, innocent as it maladies, that they do very badly with it. may appear in itself, is in reality a deIf, then, it is the frequent and almost gree of intoxication. The same sensation invariable tendency of those who take a thrilling through the frame, is what, by little wine to make them comfortable, to advancing a few steps further in the same take a little and a little more, as the body course, would become muscular distorunder its various ailments may seem to tion-the same pleasant glow would berequire, what must be done when the come restless fever —the same sense of mind with its long catalogue of deeper comfort would be ecstatic folly —the same maladies becomes disturbed? What must energy would be madness-the same conbe done as it becomes a prey to all those fidence would be incapability of shame; gnawing anxieties which mix themselves and the same self-satisfaction would be in with the under-current of daily life, es- the same glorious exultation of the inpecially in the present state of society? temperate in his own disgrace. Why, the sudden intelligence of an un- It is painful-it is repulsive to enter in. expected loss, will often induce a man to to these minute descriptions on a subject gratify himself with this kind of imagina- which it would be a privilege to be enary strength; while the necessity of dis- bled to forget, and to forget forever. But missing a servant not less frequently sends it is due to that subject, that it should be the mistress of a house for refreshment to fairly treated, and it is due to the honored her sideboard. And yet we are told there friends of the temperance cause, that their is no danger-no danger at all in all this. views and their principles should be clearI repeat, that, not knowing exactly where ly understood. Let us regard it then in the line of danger is, it is and must be a another light. perilous experiment to all; and nothing We have, most probably, all witnessed can tend more forcibly to substantiate this the effect of nitrous oxide upon the human truth, than the fact that all men, and all system; or, if any have not, I may speak women too, who are now the degraded of it as that kind of gas which, when invictims of intemperance, began and went haled, produces the effect of immoderate on precisely in this manner, not one laughter, with extraordinary excitement among them intending, or believing it pos- of the animal frame and spirits, so that sible at first, that they should ever exceed the person thus stimulated exhibits the the limits prescribed by safety or deco. most ridiculous behavior. Now suppose rum. the same individual, who had made this But what is it which makes this wine, exhibition of himself in the evening, was or this liquid, which soothes away our to come the next day to transact any sepain, so desirable? Is it not a pleasura- rious business with you, having inhaled ble sensation throughout the whole ani- only a very smallportion of the same gas, mal frame —a little warmth-a little com- only just enough to make him feel more fort-a little energy-a little confidence- comfortable than he did before, would you a little satisfaction in ourselves-a very not consider him less sane, less rational, lit!k of all these, so little that we could and less safe in every way, than if he ha. I MODERATION. 23 not breathed the gas at all? Unquestion- means of excitement; and lest my own ably you would; and in exactly the same example in using such means myself, proportion as it made him feel more cornm- even in moderation, should induce them l fortable, you would be convinced it had to use it to excess, I will cheerfully endisqua.ified him for the occupations, the dure the inconvenience of removing what reflections, and the duties of a man. I do is to me an innocent enjoyment, esteem- i not say that he would be wholly disquali- ing it a privilege to do so for the sake of fled. Far from it. He himself would be those who are weaker and more ignorant more lively, more ready, and more confi- than myself." I dent of himself in every way. But would If, then, such would be the language, he in reality be more competent, and and such the decision of every sincere more deserving of the confidence of oth- well-wisher to the human race, should ers? Most assuredly not; and you see not the same feeling operate at least as in an instant in this case, that a perfectly powerfully in a country already suffering wise man would not trust himself to from this fatal knowledge, in all its dobreathe, though but in a small quantity, mestic, social, and political interests? what was capable of confusing, and even And though, happily for us, it is not left maddening, his brain. to any single individual to make laws for Again, let us ask of the Christian phil- our government in this or any other reanthropist whether, if he had committed to spect, it is surely not too much to ask,i him the sovereignty of some newly-dis- why the same principle which would inI covered island, for the government of duce the absolute sovereign to give up his i whose inhabitants he had to make laws, own use of so dangerous an indulgence which should influence the character and for the sake of his people, does not operate welfare of those people through successive with the enlightened Christian, so as to ages; if also they had hitherto lived in call forth the exercise of his influence to total ignorance of the use and properties the utmost extent in the same benevolent of intoxicating liquids —Let us ask wheth- cause? er, thus situated, and taking into account Once more let us try the subject in a all the good, and all the evil, already different point of view. There is much done in other countries by the introduction talk in the present day of the wonderful of such knowledge, he would deem it be- effects of mesmerism; and, without ennevolent or wise to introduce such indul- tering into the merits or demerits of the gences among the people over whom he question at large, we will suppose, for an i ruled, and for whose virtue and happiness instant, that all the cases we read of are here and hereafter, he was necessarily so substantiated by sufficient proof. If, howdeeply responsible? ever, while we believed this mysterious Surely there are few who would not agency to have been the means of re4 answer to this question, "No. Let my moving or suspending certain maladies, A people go on in their ignorance of this in. we knew beyoid a doubt that it had been centive to passion and to vice. It is the cause of death to many, of madness to enough for me to govern them aright, more, and of misery to all upon whom it without'inventing a new enemy to their operated to excess; if no one either could welfare in this artificial and extraordinary tell exactly how far its operation was safe, 31 '24 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. but all could perceive that it had a pe- of mesmerism in the danger of its reculiar tendency to lead people on in their sults. exercise of it, from one step to another, It is true, that on the plea of health, of until reason was finally overthrown, and comfort, but more especially of habit, wine folly and vice unscrupulously committed has already obtained dominion over our under its influence; should any of us in land, while mesmerism is but a stranger our senses, seeing and knowing all this, to our shores, and justly a suspected one; be willing to introduce the practice of but if on the ground of its being likely to mesmerism into our families, even when do more harm than good, and particularly exercised to a very trifling extent? Should moral harm opposed to physical good, we we desire to make it a part of our social discountenance the one, how, on the same enjoyments? or should we not rather, ground, can we find a pretence for cherconsidering the immense amount of evil it ishing the other? The very fact that was capable of doing in proportion to its intoxicating drinks can only in their highgood-seeing too that the good was to the est use do good to the body, while they have body, and the evil to the mind-should we proved themselves most fatally deleterious not rather dismiss the system altogether to the mind, ought of itself to be sufficient from our own practice, as unworthy the to make the Christian philanthropist pause, countenance of prudent and responsible in order to weigh the subject carefully, beings? impartially, ana with reference to the Yes, already we are startled ax the divine law, which teaches us that the soul practice of this strange art in our hospi- of man is above all calculation precious tals; and although guiltless of having in the sight of his Maker. produced any deterioration in the morals One of the most potent arguments in or the happiness of the people, already favor of the use of wine, as it has operwe look with suspicion and fear upon that ated practically upon society, and espestrong mysterious sleep to which its sub- cially upon young men of hopeful talent, jects are consigned, though no instance is, that some of our most popular writers, has yet occurred of its iron chains being as well as our most distinguished men of riveted for more than a certain length of genius, have been addicted to the use of time, depending entirely upon the will of it, in a measure far exceeding the bounds the operator. Such, indeed, is the char- of moderation. It is a lamentable fact, acter of mesmerism, with all its acknow- that such has been the case; but whatledged harmlessness, that I much question ever may be the fascination which popuwhether the practice of it as a social lar applause has thrown around the public amusement, even to a moderate extent, career of such men, we need only look would be deemed a justifiable indulgence into their private lives, to see how far they among rational and serious people; yet were in reality from being objects worthy thousands upon thousands of such individ- either of envy or of imitation. uals allow themselves to partake every No; these are not the men whom afterday, and in their most pleasurable and ages regard as the benefactors of their unguarded moments, of an indulgence far race; and even if they were, what dark more difficult to limit in degree, and im- and gloomy chronicle shall tell of the measurably beyond all that is yet known numbers now without a name, of equal or !s, MODERATION. 25 superior genius to them, but with less harmlessness of the dove, that they can ability to exercise that genius, not in con. afford to risk the consequences of perpet1 sequence, but in spite of, such habits of ually adding to the stimulus which incites excess? And, after all, it is the number to sensation and to action, just so much of men of' talent which makes a nation as they take away from the calm judg. great and wise. It is not here and there ment that is so often needed to control our a genius flashing in a century of igno- feelings, and to teach us how to act aright. rance. I repeat, such men are not the Hence an endless catalogue of evils, arispillars we depend upon for the intellectual ing from the miscalculations, oversights in and moral dignity of our nation. Start- business, hasty conclusions, intemperate ling, brilliant, and eccentric, their course expressions, weakness under temptation, resembles only that of the fiery comet —a and general subserviency of principle to blaze in the heavens-a wonder to the inclination, among men; while among eyes of men. Yet how different from the women the sad consequences of the tellmilder planet, or the fixed and constant tale tongue, the sudden impulse, and the star, to which the traveller turns with wilful act, have been scarcely less calamtrusting heart, and by which the mariner itous. To women, especially, the excitesteers his trackless course along the ment of society alone is often enough, and mighty deep! too much for the equanimity of minds over It is to men of deep thought, of patient which there has been exercised no habitlabor, and, above all, of steady mind, that ual control; and after the accustomed society owes the greatest blessing, which means of increasing that excitement have it is the privilege of enlightened intellect been freely, though not according to the to impart; and, in order to preserve that opinion of the world too freely used, how steadiness of purpose, that fixedness of many through the long, dull, weary, mornresolve, and that supremacy of the mind ing hours, have to look back with shame over the body, which are essential to the to the confused and busy scenes of the efficient working out of any great and previous evening, among which the dim, lasting good, it has always been found but certain witness of their own folly necessary to lead a temperate and abste- stands forth conspicuous, as if to warn mious life, both as regards bodily indul- them against ever venturing upon the gence and animal excitement. same unguarded course again! And if this is necessary for superior But it would require volumes to detail minds, in order to their beneficial exer- even the most familiar instances arising cise for the good of the community at from this practice as it prevails in society, large, it is at least equally so for common impregnating with its poison the secret I minds, as a means of preserving them springs of feeling, and stimulating to all from those follies and inconsistencies which those little acts, thoughts, looks, and words, i[ are sufficiently called forth by the ordi- which constitute the beginnings of evil, and i nary course of social and worldly affairs. which may justly be compared to sparks It would seem, however, that the gener- applied to a long train of mischief, incluality of mankind are so fortified against ding the practice of every kind of selfish. the evils, perplexities, and dangers of this ness, duplicity, and too often bad faith. life, by the wisdom of the serpent and the Would that peculiar look, for instance, 26 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. have been given-would that word have are surprised into evil more frequently passed the fair speaker's lips-would that than by obvious temptations-those sudstrange eccentric act have been committed, den questions which we sometimes canhad no artificial stimulus been used? Oh, not answer without a secret prayer that woman! reckless woman! how often has our lips may be kept from speaking guile thy character received a bias, and thy -those trials of temper, and those tests whole life a shade, from the consequences of principle, against which we have need of some rash purpose conceived without a to fortify ourselves by watchfulness as thought of harm, and acted upon from the well as by prayer. And how is it possisudden impulse of a moment! How often ble we should be so constantly and enhas the friend of thy bosom been wounded, tirely on our guard as we might otherthe love of years destroyed, and shipwreck wise be, while under the influence even made of happiness and peace, from the of the slightest degree of this kind of mere indulgence of a transient inclination stimulus? too impetuous for reason to control! And There are but few persons, I should yet under circumstances of peculiar temp- suppose, who would think of preparing tation from the excitement incident to so- themselves for the duties of public worciety, woman is the first to place herself ship by the use of wine; yet, if there be in peril by voluntarily adding to the stim- one situation in which we are less in ulus, of which she has already more than danger from temptation than all others, it her natural prudence can restrain. may reasonably be said to be when ChrisThus, then, we venture to trifle with tian friends go up to the house of God in the immortal mind; thus we presumptu- company. He to whom the secrets of all ously dare to ruffle the calm of that hearts are laid bare-He knows that even bright mirror which ought to reflect the here the busy mind has enough to do image of Divinity! to call in its wandering thoughts, and But there is another view of this sub- keep them fixed upon the words of the ject which has proved a very conclusive preacher, or upon the supreme object of one with me, and no doubt with many adoration. But if here, when surroundothers. After a person has partaken ed with all that can remind us by associeven sparingly of intoxicating stimulus, ation and habiL of the solemn purpose I cannot believe that he is in so suitable for which a serious, and apparently unia condition to pray as he was before; ted, community of immortal beings are and yet the habitual frame of the Chris- met-if even here, while the truths of tian's mind should be such, as that he the Gospel are laid before us, while may be ready at any hour, or at any mo- prayer and praise are ascending from the ment, to offer up those secret appeals for multitude around, we are unable to conDivine sanction, guidance, and support, trol the faculties of the mind so as to without which we cannot expect to be bring them under subjection to the solemn kept in safety, in our going out, or com- requirements of the great duty of public ing in-when we begin the day, or when worship, what must be the difficulty of we lie down to sleep at night. Besides exercising a suitable control over our which, there a-re all those momentary lit- thoughts and actions when not reminded tle occurrences of daily life by which we of these things, when surrounded by MODERATION. 27 worldly or thoughtless companions, when roughly enjoyed. In this very enjoyassociated with the world in its stirring, ment, however, there is excitement enough importunate, and necessary avocations, for the safety of what ought to be the or when mixing, so far as Christians can habitual frame of the Christian's mind, in lmix, with its pleasures and amusements. the meeting of friends, in the freedom of soIn addition to the duties of public wor- cial converse, and, above all, in the exhilaship, there are those of private devotion- rating and delightful sensation of uniting, there is the reading of the sacred Scrip. heart to heart, and hand to hand, with those tures, the prayer of the family, and the whom we love and admire, in one great, prayer of the closet; and how often must one common, and one glorious cause. these be attended to at a time when the There is sufficient excitement, too, ocbodily frame is exhausted, and when, con- casioned by the general advocacy of this sequently, temptation is strong upon those cause, by the public meetings, and the who are addicted to such habits, to supply thrilling eloquence so often heard on these with momentary stimulus the enfeebled occasions-there is excitement enough in energies of the mind. What then, I ask, all this, and sometimes too much, for the and I would ask it kindly and solemnly, is even balance cf the Christian's feelings the nature of those prayers which are of- and temper, without the addition of artifi. fered up under such stimulus? are they cial stimulus applied to the animal frame, not often mere words, compiled from a set which at best produces only a transient I of familiar phrases, with which the heart accession of energy, to be followed by a has no living or present sympathy? And lassitude and exhaustion unknown to those though to the mere formal hearer tney who never use such stimulus. may exhibit no perceptible deficiency, He I am, however, one of those who beto whom they are addressed knows well lieve, that, in the sight of God, our habitual that they have little to do with that wor- and secret feelings are of as much imporship, which he has expressly declared to tance as the energy we carry with us into be acceptable only when offered in spirit public effort. I believe that the ranks of and in truth. the blessed in an eternity of happiness There are social and convivial meetings will be filled up, not by those who have often held at the houses of religious peo- merely moved others in a righteous cause, ple; and far be it from me to wish that but by the meek and humble followers of it should be otherwise. Far be it from a crucified Saviour, whose consistent walk me to attempt to throw a shadow over on earth has been in conformity with his what I am happy in believing is the bright- precepts, and under the guidance of his est aspect of human life-the path along Spirit. It is not what we do, but what we which the Christian walks humbly with are, that we must be judged by in the his God. Individually I have perhaps great day of account; and it is therefore rather too strong a tendency to think that the Christian's duty to examine every mo. religious people should, above all others, tive, to watch every act, and to control understand the science of rational enjoy- every impulse, so that his private as well ment, and exhibit before the world the im- as his public life shall be acceptable in the portant truth, that even earthly happiness Divine sight. may be innocently, cordially, and tho. Were this not the case-were it lawful 28 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. or expedient for the Christian to throw the Such observations, however, belong onwhole energy of his mind and body into ly to the theory of this dangerous pracone great public effort, and to leave nothing tice. Facts, awful facts, attested by min. for his private hours, for his family, or for isters of every religious denomination, are the religion of his closet, but nervous irri- not wanting to assure us, that of the tation, weariness, or senseless sleep, I causes of religious declension now preshould be willing to allow that the use of vailing in the world, the drinking usages stimulants might be favorable to such a of our enlightened country have been the course of action. Indeed, I am but too most fatal in their consequences. well assured, that many extraordinary in- The author of " Anti-Bacchus," himstances of oratorical power, many startling self, a minister of religion, and one aro flashes of brilliant genius, and many sin- has spent no small amount of time and gle efforts, almost supernatural in their talent in the investigation of this subject, force and their effect, have been produced has the following passage in his valuable under the influence of this kind of excite- work, and I know not how I can more apment. But who has followed the individ- propriately close this chapter. uals, from whom such extraordinary action emanated, home to their families or "Let us look round our congregations, their closets? or, having so followed them, and enumerate those opening buds of who would pronounce upon their condition promise which have been withered and there as being that of happy men-of men blasted, and let us inquire also into the whose daily and hourly conduct constituted influence which destroyed our hopes, and one continued homage to the purity, the ho- the peace and respectability of the ofliness, and the benignity of their Creator? fenders, and we shall find that in, ninety. No. I appeal to common sense, to ex- nine cases out of a hundred, these drinks perience, and to observation of the world have been the remote or proximate cause. in general, whether the individuals thus I have seen the youthful professor, whose occasionally wrought upon by artificial zeal, talent, respectability, and consistent stimulus for a particular and transitory piety, have promised much to the church purpose, are not, of all mankind, the least and the world, led on from moderate to enviable in their private experience and immoderate draughts, in the end become habits, the most irritable in their feelings, a tippler, dismissed from the church, disand the most weary of life and its accu- owned by his friends, himself a nuisance mulated ills? to society, and his family in rags. I have J-ust in proportion then as the religious seen the generous tradesman, by whose professor allows himself to approach to zeal for the Gospel, and at whose expense this extreme, his private life and the se- too the ministers of religion have been incret history of his religious character be- troduced into a destitute village, and even. come stamped with an impress fearfully tually a house erected for God, and a at variance with the calm puriy, the clear flourishing church formed, himself ex. intelligence, and the high spiritual enjoy- eluding himself by his love of strong drink. ment which constitute the Christian's hap- Would to God these instances were solipiest foretaste of the blessedness of the tary! But, alas! they are not. Almost heavenly kingdom. every church and every minister have to TOTAL ABSTINENCE. 29 weep over spiritual hopes blasted, and bering thatfullpersuasion can only be the Christianity outraged by these drinks. result of serious, persevering, and impar. "We must here also observe, that if tial inquiry. but one member of the church had backslilden, if but one angel of the church had fallen, or but one hopeful convert had been lost, through the use of alcoholic CHAPTER N. drinks, the thought that only one had been betrayed and corrupted, ought to make us TOTAL ABSTINENCE. resolve to abstain. The consideration that IF the brilliant career of some of our what had destroyed one might injure many, most distinguished men has been suddenly would, were not our hearts more than arrested by intemperance, and if the pri. usually hard, prompt us to vow never to vate career of others has from the same touch or taste again. But we have not cause been overspread by a premature to tell of one, but of many, that have been and total darkness, if, too, we have to laruined. The hopeful ministers of the ment the obvious and lamentable fall of sanctuary who have fallen are not a few. pillars in the church of God, what must And as to members and young people of be the amount of genius dimmed, and rethe highest promise, who have been lost ligious hope extinguished, of which the to the church through this practice, these world has taken no account, and which might be counted by thousands." can be computed only by Him, without whose knowledge not so much as a sparSuch are the words of one of the most row falls to the ground! zealous advocates of total abstinence; and I speak still of a moderate use of those I give them in preference to my own, be- stimulants which at once excite and soothe. cause I should be sorry to presume upon I speak of cases in which just so much is any right I may have, as a private indi- taken as to lull the mind into a sort of vidual, to interfere with the habits, or agreeable repose, or into the still more question the judgment of those, who, agreeable belief that it is actually emthinking differently from myself in this ployed, when in reality it is not, or at least respect, faithfully fill the high station of not to' any practical or useful purpose. ministers of the Gospel. Of them, and of For this, after all, is the most delusive religious professors in general, all I ask tendency both of alcohol and laudanum, is, that they would give the subject their to create, when taken in moderation, a cordial and serious consideration, while pleasing sensation of activity in the nerv. they ask how many the force of their ex- ous system, while thought flows on in so ample might possibly preserve from the mixed and uncertain a current, as seldom fatal consequences of this insidious habit. to prompt to any definite purpose, or eonThe question has now become one which tinued action-in that dreamy, after-din- I can no longer be put from us as unworthy ner state, so little removed from mere ani. of examination, without a dereliction of mal existence. And hence, as this state duty. With the result of such examina- becomes habitual, that weakness of resotion I have nothing to do. Let every one lution, indolence, and inability for prompt ~ befully persuaded in his own mind, remem- and energetic effort, which mark the 30 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. characters of those who indulge in the It needs, however, considerable experifrequent use of intoxicating drinks. With ence of human life, and a somewhat such persons, even while they seldom or lengthened observation of the changes never exceed the bounds of what the which take place in individuals and famiworld calls moderation, what a fearful lies, to be able to trace out the reality of proportion of their lives is spent in this the curse of intemperance in its gradual kind of half-existence-in merely dream- operation upon the hearts and the lives of ing that they live; and if the claims of our fellow-creatures. In short, we must society, business, or public usefulness de- be able to look back to what the drunkard mand from them at certain seasons a de- was, to see from whence he has fallen; gree of extra exertion, how abundantly and by that far-off eminence to compute do they afterwards indemnify themselves the extent of his loss, and the depth of his for their loss of ease, by applying fresh degradation. The young, and those who stimulants to relieve the weariness under have little knowledge of the world, are which they necessarily suffer! not able to do this; yet such is the force By what means persons of this descrip- of habit, that we generally find the young tion are secured against ultimate excess more willing than the old, or even the and ruin, it would be difficult to say. middle-aged, to come forward and join With them, all is left to chance, to bodily the ranks of those who entirely avoid constitution, and to habit. The conse- these drinks. It is not to them, however, quence is, that from among their ranks, that we can look for those strong convicintemperance selects its most sure and tions of the reality of the evil, which most willing victims. It is worthy of naturally impress the minds of persons observation, too, that at no stage of life who have been in a manner compelled to are mankind exempt from the liability of trace out the private history of the victim falling under this temptation. I remem- of intemperance. They can know nothber, when a girl, hearing a gentleman- ing of the youth of early promise which and he certainly was a gentleman of the once dawned upon yon poor outcast from old English school, a man of enlightened society-how, fondly cherished by a domind, too, on almost every subject except ting mother, he grew up the pride of all the most important one-I remember hear- the household-how the light of superior ing this man boast that he had been the intellect adorned his mind, while beauty means of making his neighbor a drunk- beamed upon his brow, and wit and huard. He used to tell, also, at the same mor woke the ready laugh which ever time, how this neighbor, in early youth an welcomed him among his friends. It is honest, upright man, retained the strictest for those only who have been intimately morals, and the most complete self-mas- associated with this child of hope, really tery, especially in this respect, until the to feel the heart-sickening spectacle of his age of thirty; when, as a married man, gradual fall-his beauty faded, his intelaiji the father of a family, he fell into the lect impaired, his wit become profane or snare of the tempter, never to escape un- low, or quenched in childish tears-not til the hand of death removed him from one of all his admiring and convivial the commission of sin, to the endurance friends who would now acknowledge him. of its consequences. Not one, did we say? No, not one TOTAL ABSTINENCE. 31 among his companions of the midnight wretched and disgusting spectacle the revel, or the jovial board. But though drunkard exhibits to the world; and if all have forsaken or disowned him, in the the choice were now submitted to the lone chamber of his widowed mother, young beginner, whether he would lose a tears are falling still, while prayers are right hand or a right eye, or consign him. breathing forth the very soul of that fond self to such a fate, most assuredly he woman whose love is strong as death; would prefer the former, so opposed is the and, strange to say, she who has suffered last stage of intemperance to every thing most, and been most humbled by his deg- we esteem as desirable of imitation: it is radation, is the last, the very last, to cast besides so generally considered by the him off. She who admired him most in world as being easy to retreat, after havhis young beauty, who laid her hand so ing once gone too far, that the young be. proudly on the golden curls which graced ginner never discovers how this situation his noble brow, she looks upon him with can possibly be his, until it has actually a mother's fondness still, and would fold become so. him to her bosom-oh, how fondly! —yet. We are all too much in the habit of She, however, is no philosopher, knows looking upon the sins of intemperance as little of the wants of human nature, or the belonging only to its extreme stage of degdiscipline required to bring it back from radation; but did men sin no more undisease and wretchedness to a healthy and der its influence than they do in this helphonorable state; and thus when the prod- less and abject state, the evil itself would igal comes back, as he does occasionally, be lessened by an amazing amount. It is to share the scanty pittance refused to not excess to which the ruffian yields him elsewhere, she places thoughtlessly himself when he contemplates a deed of before him the tempting draught, in her horror. That would disqualify his arm blind and foolish ignorance deeming it for the fatal blow. No, it is what is connecessary, when taken in moderation, for sidered moderation which stimulates to the restoration of his wasted strength. the practice, not only of open and daring Thus it is easy to perceive that such a crime, but of all those acts of deception mother can exercise no beneficial influ- employed to betray the innocent and the ence over her infatuated son; and if not unwary to their own destruction. It is the mother, with all her tenderness and the moderate draught which fires the pasuntiring affection, who, then, is to be sions of the revengeful and the malignant looked to for assistance in the hour of -in short, which gives the moving imneed? pulse to that vast machinery of guilt, It is in fact this blind and persevering which scatters misery and ruin amongst determination to advocate the use of a our fellow-creatures, which desolates their moderate quantity, which produces nearly homes, shuts them out from Christian felall the excess now existing in the world. lowship, and lowers our whole country in It has been justly said, that no one was the scale of moral worth. It is this moder. ever yet allured into the ranks of intem- ate portion which invariably makes bad perance by its actual victims, after they men worse-need we inquire, whether it had obviously become such. Far more ever yet was known to make good men calculated to warn and to deter, is the better? 32 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. Great and glorious, then, as the results help in vain. Sometimes, by the mercy of the temperance movement have been of God, they have been enabled to mainin reclaiming those who appeared to be tain through life a station of respectability irretrievably lost to their friends and to at the cost of a lingering struggle almost society, its most beneficial operation, and too painful for nature to endure; a:rcd that to which we look for the greatest sometimes at an advanced age, as bodily good, is its power to arrest the downward infirmities have increased, the enemy at progress of the moderate, before they shall last has conquered them. have lost caste among their fellow-men. How little have such individuals known In order to do this, it is necessary that that the very moderation which they conthere should be some powerful and irnme- tinued to practise as lessening their diffidiate check against so much as tasting the culty, was in reality the cause of all their dangerous draught. This check has been suffering! One prompt and decided effort tried by a mere promise to a friend for a to put away the perilous thing entirely, stated period, and has often proved suffi- andfor ever, would have placed them imcient for the time, though the opposite mediately on the side of safety, where cases in which it has failed, may be reck- temptation would soon have ceased altooned as a thousand to one; for, until the gether to assail their peace. But, instead temperance principle was made known, of such an effort, their whole lives have it never seemed to occur to such friends, been a continued conflict, often carried on that their part, and a very important one in weakness and distress; one perpetual in the work of reformation, was to join sacrifice made at the expense of cheerfulwith the tempted in totally abstaining. ness and social feeling; one act of painful And here let us observe, that it is one self-denial, having every hour to be renewof the peculiar and striking features of in. ed, and consequently never bringing its temperance as a vice, that its victims often appropriate reward of gratitude and joy. loathe the very monster on whose polluted In justice to ourselves, then, it is but right altars they are offering up their lives; that we should adopt a mode of acting nay, they even loathe themselves, and prudently, at once more safe, and infinitehate and despise the tyranny whose badge ly less irksome and destructive to our of cruel servitude they wear. In this happiness. As an act of duty to God, it state the struggles of the wretched victim is highly essential that we should make a to escape, are sometimes most painful and more entire and less grudging sacrifice; heart-rending to the confidential friend to while as an act of benevolence to our felwhom they are disclosed. Sometimes low-creatures, it is not less important that prayer is resorted to, sometimes penance. we should show them how practicable it is, Every device which a wounded spirit can cheerfully, promptly, and wholly to abstain. suggest, except the only'sure and effect- While speaking of the extreme pain ual one, is by turns adopted and renoun. and difficulty of partial abstinence, when ced; and still, though torn and lacerated opposed to inclination, a circumstance has by a thousand agonies, which the untempt- been brought to my recollection which ed can never know, until within the last affected me powerfully at the time, though few years, these miserable and isolated it failed to convince me of the unkindness beings cried to their fellow-creatures for and inconsistency of my own conduct. It TOTAL ABSTINENCE. 33 was on the occasion of some visiters arriv- a glass of wine one day does not make ing at my father's house, when all the more necessary the next? and whether, family except myself were absent. The when such stimulants are resorted to as a customary duties of hospitality consequent- means of restoring strength, they do not ly devolved upon me, and with other re- require to be continued, and even in. freshments, as a matter of course, I order- creased, for the same purpose? If, howed wine to be placed upon the table. Seat- ever, the strength was really increased by ed in the same room at that time was one such means, the use of it would soon of the greatest sufferers from habitual and cease to be necessary-no one wishing to constitutional intemperance, it has ever be strong beyond a certain point; —inbeen my lot to know-a sufferer both from stead of which the demand is still kept up, the force of the temptation, and the remorse for that very end which it thus appears and loss of character it occasioned him plainly can never be answered by such to endure. He was a clergyman, and an means. eminent scholar, perfectly sane and sober Another case in point at this moment then, having bound himself by a promise occurs to me, which I am induced to rethat he would scrupulously abstain for a cord, because I know it to be a fact. A stated period. When my guests had re- lady of my acquaintance, and I have it freshed themselves, we walked out into upon her authority, whose mind was serithe garden, leaving this individual, as I ously impressed with the importance of distinctly recollect, seated opposite the personal abstinence, struggled on for some table, with his eyes fixed intently upon time in the manner I have described, withthe wine; and he told me afterwards, that out being able to make a sufficient effort no language could describe the agony he for the effectual carrying out of her purendured while I was pouring out the pose. Thus, she was often an abstainer tempting draught, and urging it upon my for a week or a month, hoping she might friends; but more especially when he was keep up the habit, without really resolving in the room alone with it before him. It to do so. While she remained in this is scarcely necessary to add, that he in- state, it happened that on those days when demnified himself only too deeply for this she partook, with her friends, even of the privation, so soon as the term of his pro- smallest quantity, such was the force of mised abstinence expired. habit, and suck the power of association, The advocates of total abstinence are that she invariably went to her store-room accused of going too far in discouraging immediately after they were gone, and the use of intoxicating beverages alto- poured out for herself a glass of the wine gether. But, surely, such charges can she had just tasted; nor was she exempt only come from persons ignorant of hu- from the same weakness for two or three man nature, of the power of association, days afterwards. and of the force of the temptations to Dr. Johnson is often quoted as high auwhich that nature is exposed. I would thority in favor of the safety of abstinence, appeal to individual experience, whether when compared with moderation. When partaking even in a very limited degree asked by Hannah More, at a dinner of a stimulating beverage does not create party one day, to take a little wine, he an inclination for more? whether taking replied, "I cannot take a little, and there. 34 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. fore I never take any. Abstinence is as the former case is widely different from easy to me as temperance would be diff- this, and therefore it is far more difficult cult." for tne tempted than the untempted man, But the temperance society, in its far- in mixing with society, to bear, as he stretching benevolence, embraces princi- must, the vulgar and unfeeling insinuaples of higher obligation than this. " Ab- tion that he abstains because he has riot stain," said an assembly of ministers of self-government enough to prevent his fallthe Gospel to a brother whom intoxicating ing into excess. Again and again has this drink was destroying. " Oh," said he, low-minded remark been made to the wri" how could I endure to be singular, to be ter of these pages, without producing any ridiculed and scorned in whatever compa- other sensation than one of regret, that ny I might appear!" "Abstain," said a her friends should be so ignorant of the worthy brother; " I will abstain too, and deep and spirit-stirring principle upon keep you in countenance." This was a which the temperance cause depends; Temperance Society before the name was but had the same remarks been made to known.* some of her acquaintance-some whom I have spoken of the situation of those she would gladly ask the wings of more who abstain because they have already than earthly love to shield, what agony fallen under temptation, and I have en- would this ill-timed observation have deavored to show how their marked, de- caused to thrill almost equally through graded, and solitary lot is more than a her heart and theirs! sensitive and delicate mind can endure. And what an absurdity is this insinuaBut I have omitted to observe in its proper tion, even when most harmless! As a place, that there exists an additional rea- method of reasoning amounting to preciseson why their unaided efforts should be so ly the same thing, as if we should say to difficult to maintain, in the peculiarly a friend who had subscribed to the supmorbid and susceptible feelings of those port of a blind asylum —" I am sorry to who are conscious of holding a questiona- find by your name being on the list, that I ble position among their fellow-beings,- you are anticipating blindness. I never in short, of having lost something of their knew before that you were afflicted with respectability and high standing in the weak eyes." opinion of the world. TI ose upon whom Enough then must already be known the breath of censure has never breathed, by those who have paid the least attention whose character, in its unsullied purity to the subject, to show that individuals and firm rectitude, has never been as- now under temptation are not likely to sailed, are fearless of the consequences of save themselves, and that if any thing efmaking an eccentric movement in a gen- fectual remains to be done to save them, erous or noble cause. Any idle or nar- it must be by the combined and benevorow-minded suspicion attaching itself to lent efforts of the sober part of the comthem, they are prepared utterly to despise. munity. There must in fact be a decided It cannot harm them by its probability, barrier formed against the first step in the and consequently they regard it not. But downward career of intemperance, and * Address of the Baptist Total Abstinence that must be by a society of persons Society in Newcastle. stronger than themselves. "It would be tomcosreth TOTAL ABSTINENCE. 3? too much,"' observes the enlightened beloved shores. It is contained in the exThomas Spencer, " to expect one individ. cellent summary of temperance proceedual philanthropist to work out the refor- ings conveyed by the first address of the mation of the drunkard; nor is it proba- National Society, which I would earnest, ble that an individual drunkard would ly recommend to the attention of every have courage to stand alone as an abstain- reader. er, amidst the jeers of his companions. "At the'Great National Banquet' But if a society were formed of benevo- which lately took place in Dublin, Lord lent men, for the express purpose; and if Morpeth, after giving particulars of the the enslaved victims could be encouraged return of outrages reported in the conby the influence of example to break off stabulary office, by which it appeared, their yoke, and burst their bonds, then that since 1836 they had diminished one th!en would philanthropy have a cheering third, proceeded to remark, that' of the prospect of enlarged success; and then heaviest offences, such as homicides, outmight the master evil of intemperance be rages upon the person, assaults with atgradually destroyed. Such a society has tempt to murder, aggravated assaults, beenformed-it is the Total Abstinence So- cutting and maiming, there were ciety." In 1837,..... 12,096 That such a society, opposed as it is to 1838,..... 11,058 the strong habits and stronger inclinations 1839.... 1,077 of mankind, has not only been formed, 1840,..... 173 but has prospered beyond the most san- Facts like these require no comment; the guine expectations, both in this and other mere abstinence from one article of bevcountries, we have abundant proof. I erage has done more in two or three years quote from a record of what has been done to diminish crime, than could ever be acin America, as well as what has been ef- complished by all the powers of legislafected nearer home. I quote from the ture, the activity of police, and the horrors Eighth Report of the American Temper- of military force. But it is not in the ance Society, where it is stated that at diminution of crime alone, that we see the that time in America more than 8000 cheering and happy fruits of the tempertemperance societies had been formed, ance reformation in Ireland. The returns containing it was thought more than of the savings bank prove that improvi1,500,000 members, more than 4000 dis- dence has diminished, while domestic corntilleries had been stopped, and more than fort, intelligence, and wealth have rapidly 8000 merchants had ceased to sell ardent increased. spirits, and many of them had ceased to "The depositors in the savings bank sell any kind of intoxicating liquors; also were, in July, August, and September, upwards of 1200 vessels then sailed from 1838, 7,264; 1839, 7,433; 1840, 8,953; American ports, in which no intoxicating 1841, 9,585; while in 1842, the increase liquors were used. is still greater: and it is stated, that at The next statement I shall transcribe is one of the branches of these valuable inone of a still more cheering nature, inas- stitutions, the pressure of depositors was much as it touches the patriot hearts of so great, that the committee had to open Britain, by approaching more closely her the bank another evening in the week. 36 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. We find, too, that this prudent provision infirmary of the city,) over the medical for future wants has not prevented a large and surgical departments of which I preand rapid increase of present domestic side, as senior medical officer, the number comfort and home enjoyment, for in the of casualties admitted has recently diminreport of the Waterford Temperance So- ished. In particular, I may mention, that ciety, it is stated, that'In the city and formerly we had constant applications for suburbs there are at least one hundred the admission of women seriously injured thousand pounds' worth of value in the by their brutal husbands when in a state cottages of the laboring classes, in clothes of intoxication; I feel gratified in being and furniture, over and above what they able to state that not a single instance has possessed two years ago, besides a con- presented itself this current year. This siderable increase of lodgments in the single fact speaks volumes in favor of the savings bank, made principally by the domestic happiness conferred by temperworking classes. The healthy state of ance. Some pledge-breakers have been the city during this inclement year, and brought before me, but it must be a matthe last report of the fever hospital, speak ter of pride and of congratulation to evloudly in favor of the cause. We may ery lover of morality and good order, to add a recent testimony from the same observe that the system has been so gen. quarter, which appears in a letter from erally and steadily adhered to, and that a the mayor of Waterford, addressed to the people so notorious for intemperate habits, vice-president of the Waterford Total Ab- should now be proverbial for the very restinence Society, and dated the 21st of verse; but bright as is the dawn, I believe October, 1842. that it is only the harbinger of a brighter day, for I am far from thinking that we' MY DEAR SIR- now witness the entire extent of the boon' My period of magisterial office, now which the temperance system is capable on the eve of closing, has afforded me of conferring. The rising generation, I many opportunities of judging of the work- anticipate, will be benefited by it even ing of the temperance system, and of esti- more largely than the present; and I trust mating the advantages it confers on the that the temperance pledge will be handed community at large. down to distant ages, the memorial of the'The fact is notorious, that since the moral regeneration of the country. temperance movement, the actual amount'I have the honor to be, my dear sir, of crime in this city has been considerably'Your obedient, humble servant, diminished, and that comfort, happiness,'THOMAs L. MACKESEY, and plenty supply the place of wretched.'Mayor of Waterford.' ness and destitution, once unhappily so prevalent. I say the fact is notorious, be- "Sir B. Morris and Captain Newport, cause the diminished duties of the magis.- two of the magistrates who attended the trates, and of the judges of assizes, amply total abstinence meeting when the above testify to its truth, and in my professional letter was read, most fully confirmed the capacity as a medzcal man, I canfully bear statements it contained. We might proout the advantages of the total abstznence ceed to prove, from the increased number system. In the Leper Hospital, (general of reading-rooms and schools, and from..................................... _....... - -~..... TOTAL ABSTINENCE. 37 the rapid extension of mechanics' insti- come forward in the first instance to rectutes, that the intellectual elevation of the ommend this system to others, by adopting people is keeping pace with their moral it themselves, it is probable we should and physical improvement. Indeed, the have felt less confidence in the great whole picture which Ireland now presents moral power which is now at work. It of the delightful proofs of temperance is probable we should have trusted more reformation, may well rouse the feeling to our political economists, our public of astonishment, that more should be re- speakers, and our ministers of religion, quired to induce any individual to support and when they failed in the consistency by his example so simple and effectual a of their example, the working classes means of securing such an amount of might have failed with them. We might public and private good." have thought, too, that the prospect was a But notwithstanding all these encour- mere chimera which would not stand the aging facts, and the strong evidence they test of time. But as the subject now prebring along with them that the principles sents itself to our consideration, it bears of total abstinence are peculiarly adapted an impress more than human; for what to the wants of the people at large, one but the Spirit of God could have put it thing is still wanting to the furtherance into the hearts of hundreds of thousands of this benevolent institution; and strange among the poorest and most ignorant memto say, it is the co-operation of the higher bers of the human family, to conceive a classes, and especially of the religious project at once so vast in its extent, so part of the community. Happily for this pure in its operation, yet so rich in its cause it has prospered, and we trust, with benevolence and love? the Divine blessing, will continue to prosper, even should such co-operation still be withheld; nor can we fear its failure while the comparatively few individuals of this class, who have already given it CHAPTER V. their sanction, remain to be its able, zealous, and consistent advocates. PUBLIC OBJECTIONS TO JOINING THE TEM Nor is it the least encouraging feature PERANCE SOCIETY. in the aspect of this interesting subject, WE must, however, still speak with rethat those who have embraced the princi- gret of that want of co-operation in the ples of total abstinence-those who have temperance reformation, which prevails formed themselves into a consistent and among the higher classes of society, as organized body, purely for the good of well as among religious professors genertheir fellow-creatures, have been chiefly ally; and we do this chiefly on the ground individuals in the lower walks of life- of the desirableness of rendering the temrn. hard-working men, and industrious wo. perance society itself as respectable as it men, who could ill afford to lose one of can be made in the opinion of the world. their accustomed means of indulgence, Were the victims rescued from intemperand, perhaps, had no other to give up. ance, by the same means, and at the same Had the case been otherwise-had en. time converted to the religion of Christ lightened men and influential women Jesus, they would know that to endure the ~ $ A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. scorn, and the persecution of men, was a his minister, " I never should have been part of the discipline to which, as faithful a member of a temperance society." followe-s of their blessed Master, they There must be some powerfully opera. ought to be willing to submit. But in the ting reason why individuals, who esteem ranks of intemperance we have to do with it not only a duty but a privilege to come human beings upon whom this wrong forward in every other good cause, should knowledge has never operated, and we be so backward in this. It cannot surely must, consequently, adapt our means to be unwillingness to submit to a mere perthe condition of man in such a state. We sonal privation; for were this the case, must consider, too, what is in human na- it would show at once that their own perture-what are its tendencies, and how sonal indulgence was esteemed of more they are generally found to operate, in or- importance, than the saving of their felder that we may not require of it efforts low creatures from one of the greatest of beyond its power to maintain. We must, calamities. Oh! but their health-they consequently, not expect that a number have tried it, and it did not agree with of men, whom the vice of intemperance them. They had a cough, or a fit of rheuhas already consigned to the deepest de- matism, or a weakness of the throat, durgradation, will arise of themselves and ing the short time they abstained! Kind, unite into a distinct body, thus tacitly de- Christian friends, warm-hearted, devoted, claring before the world who and what and zealous laborers for the good of the they have been. Yet, even if so great a community! how often have the most miracle as this should be effected, what delicate and feeble among you gone forth then would become of that still greater on errands of mercy, in the summer's number who have not yet wholly fallen- heat, and in the winter's cold? gone forth, who are still struggling against tempta- too, at times when, had a physician been tion, and whose situation at once inspires consulted, he would have pronounced the us with more of pity, and of hope. These, act a dangerous, or at least an injurious of all persons, would be the last to join one. How often has the faithful minister such a degraded and stigmatized society stood up to preach, or visited the poor and as one composed exclusively of reformed comfortless abodes of his people, at the drunkards; and it is for such as these- risk of a headache, a sore throat, or damp the tempted, the wavering, and the still- feet? How often has the father of a respected and beloved, that I would im- family called together his household for plore the consideration of those individu- evening worship, when, as a mere matter als among the enlightened portion of the of personal benefit, he would have been community, who have hitherto stood aloof better laid upon a couch of rest? How from the question altogether, or who have often has the tender mother, shrouding treated it with contempt. But more earn- herself from the angry storm, penetrated estly still I would implore the exercise into the chambers of the sick, to dispense of Christian benevolence in this cause, on to them more than the bread of this life? the part of those who preach the glad Do not mock us then with the assertion tidings of peace on earth, and good will that you are willing, but afraid. We are towards men. "If your name had not incapable of believing it, when we witness been tnere," said a reformed drunkard to daily on your part such noble acts of mag OBJECTIONS TO JOINING THE SOCIETY. 39 nanimity, of faith, and love. No, you are but more especially young men, who are not willing, and the only justifiable rea- most frequently assailed by this insidious son that can be assigned for your unwill- and malignant enemy, would bind themingness is, that you are not yet fully per- selves, by hundreds and by thousands, to suaded in your own minds that the thing abstain. It would then be no stigma itself is good. Here, then, occurs a very either to youth or age. It would cease important question —are you in a state of to be either singular or disgraceful; and willingness to be persuaded? Are you he, over whom his mother's heart was making it a subject of prayer, that, if yearning-with whom his father had really your duty, you may see that it is pleaded in vain, would Lhen be able to so? Are you doing this, or are you put- pass over to the side of safety, without ting the thought far from you, as not wor- any other individual knowing that he had thy to be entertained by one whose office ever been otherwise than safe. is to instruct, admonish, and exhort; but And how many parents at this very not to exemplify a personal instance of time would give the whole of their worldself-denial, practised entirely upon the ly possessions to purchase the protection strength of that love which sent a Saviour and attractiveness of such a society for into the world, and which remains to be their sons! But let me ask them a serithe surest test by which his disciples are ous question. Fathers! have you come known on earth. forward and signed your names by way But in addition to the ministers, and of laying the first stone in this great bulother direct advocates of religious truth, wark to preserve your family, and your there is a vast proportion of the respecta- country? Mothers! I dare not ask of ble part of the community who care for you. Let shame and confusion cover us, none of these things; yet whose influ- that we should have seen all that is trans. ence, if thrown into the scale of temper- piring more or less remotely in connecance, instead of accumulating, as it does tion with every British home, that we at present, on the opposite side, would at should have marked the growing curse once afford the most decided and efficient upon our own household hearth, and yet help to those who are now sorely tempted, should so long have refused to deny our. wavering, and about to fall. If, for in- selves the tempting draught, which we stance, in any of our large towns, men knew was one of death to those we loved. of importance and wealth-men who Yes, I must ask of you, kind-hearted take a leading part both in business and mothers of England, why in this instance society-men who originate and forward you are guilty of a cruelty so great? great public measures, and who at the Would you not strip from your delicate same time enjoy the sociability of ration- limbs the garment of pride to clothe that al and agreeable amusements-if such beloved one? Would you not share with men would, in any considerable number, him your last morsel of bread, even if it give their names and their advocacy to left you famishing? Would you not the temperance cause, they would raise give him the draught of water brought to at once a glorious banner of encourage. cool your burning fever? And will you ment and of hope, under whose protec- -can you-dare you persist in a system tion the tempted ana weak of all classes, of self-indulgence, which, though inno. 32 40 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. cent to you, may endanger both his ternm want of digestion, or "my" general debil-. poral and eternal happiness? ity, on account of which this potent mediI repeat, there must be some powerful cine is taken, but which, by their own cause which such individuals do not tell, showing, it has hitherto proved wholly inoperating in such cases against their act- sufficient to remove. ing a more decided and a more generous Without entering generally upon the part. There must be some cause. Can question of health, a question which has it be their own love of the indulgence? been circumstantially examined by judges If so, it is high time it was given up, for more able than myself, and in relation totheir safety as well as for that of others. which many important and interesting Indeed it is chiefly in cases like these, facts are now laid before the public, tendthat we are made to see the entire reason- ing clearly to prove, that, instead of sufableness of the system of total absti- fering from total abstinence, most persons nence; for if the indulgence be easily by whom it has been fairly tried, have exresigned, a very slight consideration of perienced not only no injury to their the subject in connection with our duty to health, but considerable benefit; I may, others, will be sufficient to induce us to perhaps, be allowed to add a few words give it up. While, if it be difficult to re- on the subject of my own experience) sign, it becomes clear that we are our- which may possibly derive additional selves in danger, and our motives for weight from the circumstance of my havyself-denial are thus increased a hundred ing been, for many years of my life; an fold. obstinate disbeliever in the efficacy of So far as I have been able to discover temperance principles to effect any lasting in mixing with society, one of the most or extensive good; while of all respectaopenly avowed and most frequent objec- ble societies, that for the promotion of totions to joining the ranks of total absti- tal abstinence-that which I now esteem nence, is that already alluded to, a regard it an honor and a privilege to advocate, for personal health, originating in the mis- would have been most repulsive to my taken but popular belief, that such stimu- feelings to join. Indeed, such was my lants are necessary for its preservation. contempt for the system altogether, that I It is, however, a curious fact, that persons often pronounced it to be a mockery of who argue in this manner as regards common sense, and at the same time frethemselves, are invariably such as suffer quently asserted my belief, that nothing from some malady, either real or imagi- could be more likely than the restraint of nary, and sometimes from an accumula- a public pledge to create an immediate intion of maladies, which they still persist clination to break it. in asserting that they use stimulating bev- For two years-years I may say of toerages for the sole purpose of preventing. tal ignorance on this point, during which Now 1f such persons drank wine, or beer, I took no pains to make myself better in. or spirits, or all three, and at the same formed, I treated the subject with the attime were in perfect health, I confess they most contempt whenever it was brought would be formidable enemies to the ter- under my notice. By degrees, however, perance cause; but with them it is al- it began to wear a different aspect before ways "my" gout, "my" rheumatism, "my" the world in general, and facts were too OBJECTIONS TO JOINING THE SOCIETY. 41 powerful in its favor to be disputed. By ion; and I say this with thankfulness, degrees it began also to assume with me because I consider such ailments infinitely somewhat more of a personal character. more trying than absolute pain. That time I could not see how I was right while in- of the day at which it is frequently recom. dulging in what was so fearfully destruc- mended to take a glass of wine and a bis.. tive to others, and to some whom I had cuit, I now spend as pleasantly as any other known and loved. Yet such was the force portionof the four and twenty hours, without of habit; such my willingness to believe either; and when fatigued by wholesome what doctors told me, that wine was ne- exercise, which is a totally different thing cessary to my health, at that time far from the exhaustion above alluded to, I from good; and such, also, was my de- want nothing more than rest or food, and pendence upon stimulants, for increasing have not a symptom remaining of what I the strength of which I often felt miserably used to experience when I felt occasionin want, that three years more elapsed ally as if my life was ebbing away. Thus before I had the resolution to free myself I am fully persuaded, in my own mind, practically, entirely, and I now trust, for- and by my own experience, confirming as ever, from the slavery of this dangerous it does the testimony of many able and habit. important judges, that the very medicine Four years of totai abstinence fromr ev- i we take in this manner to give us strength, ery thing of an intoxicating nature, it has does in reality produce an increase of now been my happy lot to experience; faintness, lassitude, and general debility. and if the improvement in my health and Perhaps I may be allowed further to spirits, and the increase of my strength add, that the four years of abstinence I during that time, be any proof in favor of have already passed, have been marked the practice, I am one of those who ought by no ordinary degree of vicissitude, and especially to thank God for the present, something more than an average share of and take courage for the future. mental and bodily exertion; but whether Like many other women, and especially at home or abroad, in health or in sickthose who are exempt from the necessity ness, in joy or in sorrow, I have never of active exertion, I was, while in the really felt-the want of the stimulants above habit of taking wine for my health, sub- alluded to; and I am now led into this ject to almost constant suffering from a lengthened detail of my own experience, mysterious kind of sinking, which rendered purely from the hope, ttat, b.y adding me at times wholly unfit either for mental facts to arguments, and facts in which I or bodily effort, but which I always found cannot be mistaken, I may encourage othto be removed by a glass of wine. My ers to make the same experiment. Itistrue spirits, too, partook of the malady, for I that any little ailment I may still retain, was equally subject to fits of depression, even the slightest ache or pain, is always which also were relieved, in some degree, attributed by some of my friends to a want by the same remedies. During the four of the stimulus of wine; but still I believe years in which I have now entirely ab. there are few ladies whose health, for all stained from the use of such remedies, I purposes of exertion as well as enjoyment, have been a total stranger to these dis- would bear any comparison with mine. tressing sensations of sinking and exhaust- So much then for the constitution of wo. 42 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. man, in one instance out of the many in heart, from which it sweeps away all other which the experiment of total abstinence thoughts and feelings. I know also it nas been tried with success; nor has the sometimes happens, that all this has to be constitution of man been found less capa- concealed beneath a smooth and smiling ble of bearing this privation. Indeed, my brow; that the thoughts thus scattered personal testimony ought not to pass un- have to be called back for practical and im. supported by that of one, who, before ter- mediate use; while a manner disengaged, perance societies were thought of, and in a frank and cordial greeting to indifferent a distant and a different clime, was first friends, and a free and cheerful tone given led to the adoption of temperance prin- to general conversation, are the contribuciples, purely from regard to the safety of tions she is expected to pay to societythe semi-barbarous people over whose hab- the duties in which she must not fail. I its, in a moral point of view, his example speak not of distinguished individualspowerfully operated. He was then con- theirs is even a heavier tax than this. I vinced, that if others who had less power speak of what we are all subject to, in of self-restraint than himself, could not such cases, for instance, as that of visiting use this indulgence without excess, it was at the house of a friend who has invited a right for him, as a minister of religion, to party to meet us. It is possible that, begive it up altogether. On returning to fore the arrival of the party, a temporary England, however, he adopted, under indisposition may have disqualified us medical advice, the habits of society in from entertaining others; or a letter with this respect, until the temperance question tidings sad to us, may have been put into was presented to his mind in all its serious our hands; or a thousand things may have importance; and it is under a system of happened, any one of which may have total abstinence, not recommended by his been sufficient to sink the heart of woman. medical advisers, that, after a lingering Now in this simple and familiar inand distressing illness, he now enjoys the stance, I believe we shall all be able to blessing of renovated health. recognise one out of many cases, in which. It is not, however, on the question of women are peculiarly liable to have rehealth alone, that I am prepared to sym- course to artificial stimulus in order to pathize with the weak of my own sex who support them, as they think, creditably, bemay be anxious, but afraid, to make the -fore their friends; and if in such a case as experiment; for I know that it is the sen- this they yield to the temptation of taking sitive but often wounded mind of woman, only a single glass beyond what is conwhich, more than her feeble body, places sistent with their safety, how often, amidst her under the power of this temptation. I the variable lights and shadows of human know that it is too frequently her difficult experience, must their safety be endangerpart to live in one world of interest, and ed from the same cause! to act in another; I know that in society I speak then of this, as well as of many she is often imperatively called upon to other trials which beset the path of woman, be agreeable, when the power to be so is feelingly and experimentally; and still I wanting; and I know, too, there are pas- would say —fear not. One single effort sages in human life which to her are like conscientiously and promptly made, will the falling of a deep cold wave upon the enable you to pass through all the duties OBJECTIONS TO JOINING THE SOCIETY. 43 I of social intercourse better without such ty remain. If also, during the time that stimulants, than with them. I will not you abstain, you sit up late at night, neg. pretend to say, as some do, that the effort lect to take exercise in the open air, or in is easily made. We forget the weakness any other manner fail to adopt the most of human nature when we call it easy; rational and obvious means of preserving but I will say, that the difficulty is all in health, it cannot be said that the experianticipation, and in the lengthened drag- ment is a fair one; more especially when, ging out of a half-formed purpose. Two as is too frequently the case, every mala. years of trial I myself endured in this dy occurring during this period is charged manner, before my resolution was fully upon the newly formed habit of total abcarried out; but no sooner was an entire stinence. surrender made of inclination to a sense Here, then, I must leave the subject of of duty, than all temptation vanished, all health to the private consideration of the trial was at an end; while the act of total- candid and benevolent reader, trusting ly abstaining became so perfectly easy, that those who are not accustomed to set as to call forth no other feelings than those the question of health in opposition to the of gratitude and joy, that I was thus en- exercise of their mental and bodily enerabled, for the sake of others, to share in gies in the furtherance of other charitable the self-denials of the tempted, and the pri- objects, will, at least, have the fairness vations of the poor. not to draw back from this, under the apAfter all, however, there is a point be- prehension of any little risk they may inyond which no subject should be pressed, cur in the way of mere personal comfort when it touches upon the health of others. or convenience. For ourselves we may judge and act; but There are, however, other startling obfor no other human being of competent jections besides that of health, brought mind have we a right to lay down the law, forward against the temperance movebecause no less various than the minds ment, and especially by religious profesand the characters of mankind, are the sors, who are in the habit of questioning bodly ailments under which they suffer, the desirableness of supporting it, because and the remedies which they consequently it does not make people religious. But, require. Medical advice too must often can any thing be more at variance with be consulted, and when it is, the rules of the practice and sentiments of the most the temperance society fully recognise its enlightened part of mankind on other subright to be obeyed. But still I would askiR jects, than this far-fetched and untenable for this view of the subject, as for that of argument. Why, t'he support of good govreligious duty, a candid, serious, and in ernment, and the administration of laws, partial consideration; and mnre especially do not make people religious; yet, who where the experiment is meade, tnat it doubts the benefit they confer upon socieshould be made fairly. It pour abstnence ty? Teachif.g people to read does not is not entire, the experiment is far indeed make them religious; yet, few in the presfrom being a fair one; fcr so long as the ent day are prepared to question the adhabit of taking even a li;ie is kept up, the vantages of education. It is a fact too inclination to take more is kept up also, evident to need assertion, that the habituand consequently the trial and the difficul- ally intemperate man is not in a condition 44 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. either to read his Bible, or to pray; and the means of conversion, on the same footthat owing to his selfish indulgence, and ing with the victims of every other vice. the consequent destitution of his family, But the difference between him and others, the wives and children of such persons and that which places him beyond the are, in vast numbers, too ragged and for- pale of religious influence, is the fact that lorn to be able to attend any place of pub- he cannot hear,-that his understanding lic worship, or, in the case of the latter, is incapacitated, and, consequently, that any means of instruction. It is something his heart is sealed. What, then, is to be then, and the serious and charitable por- done? You must first awake the sleeping tion of the community know it to be some- man, before you can make him understand thing, to put the drunkard in a situation that his life is in danger; and this is preto be able to read his Bible and to pray- cisely what the temperance society proto be able to listen to, and understand those fesses, hopes, and trusts to effect. truths upon which his happiness hereafter "We can appeal to clergymen of the depends-to be able also, in addition to Church of England," says the address this, to provide for his wife and family, so already quoted, " who have made extenthat they too may receive the benefit of sive inquiries of their brother clergymen, instruction, and join in the privileges of as to the number of persons who have public worship. More than this, the tem- been reclaimed from drunkenness under perance society makes no pretension to do. their ministry, and it is confidently assertBy the universal suffrage of its members, ed as the result of that inquiry, that not a law is passed among themselves for the one clergymen in twenty, after all their physical and moral benefit of the whole years of labor in the pulpit and in the body; and if, as we are well assured, parish, can point to a single instance of a there is a vast and cheering number from person in ordinary health being reclaimed among the reclaimed, who have not rested from this particular sin.* And yet the satisfied with a mere physical and moral Total Abstinence Society can point to thoureformation, but have afterwards been sands of instances in which, in a few brought to a saving knowledge of the truths short years, by the blessing of God on the of the Gospel, we claim for the temper- temperance pledge, the temptation has ance society no further merit in this great been overcome, and the victim reclaimed. work, than that of having first restored to But more than this, not a few of those them the healthy action of their mental who have been thus raised from the lowpowers, so that they might listen to in- est depths of sin and degradation-who struction clothed and in their right minds. were not long since to be found in the We presume not to suppose that in the haunts of vice, blaspheming the sacred resources of Divine mercy there are not name, are now to be seen at their places means of sufficient potency to reclaim the of worship, offering up their humble and most abject and abandoned of human be- sincere thanksgiving and praise'o Him ings, without the instrumentality of his fellow-man; nor do we dispute that if the * This statement is taken from "An Address words of the faithful minister could reach of a Clergyman to his Brother Clergymen," pub- i the ear and the understanding of the vic- lished by the Church of England Total Absti. tim of intemperance, he would stand, as to nence Society, Tract, No. 5. OBJECTIONS TO JOINING THE SOCIETY. 45 who in His mercy has been pleased to merely ask those who thus argue in conbless so simple a means, in bringing them sequence of Christ's having used wine, first;lo reflection, then to attend upon re- whether it can be doubted, that in the ligious worship, and finally to repentance many changes of human society, circum. and saving faith in a compassionate Re- stances may not arise which might make deemer." what is a most innocent habit at one peBut beyond the objection already stated, riod, a very dangerous, inexpedient, and it is often said, that "we find nothing sinful one at another? It was never about total abstinence in the Bible." The intended that Christ's example in things truth of this assertion is freely acknowl- indiferent (or not in themselves sinful) edged, as well as that the Bible contains should be thus applied-it is the spirit nothing about public schools, particular rather than the letter of it we must use. modes of worship, or Bible societies; but His example, in the letter, applies only to if it contains nothing about total absti- the age in which he lived; in its spirit, to nence, it contains much about temperance, every situation in which man can be placed and much about excess; and if the one in this the period of his earthly trial. cannot be ensured, and the other avoided, Now drunkenness in Judea was not the without total abstinence, there is nothing great stumbling-block to the Gospel, as it said in the Bible to prevent this simple is at this moment in England; it was a and harmless alternative being resorted sin there comparatively little known, to. while here it is the leading, besetting, I must here be allowed, instead of of- and almost overwhelming one. fering any observations of my own, to quote "But it will not be denied, I think, from a sermon by the Rev. W. H. Turn- that the Apostle Paul must have known er, vicar of Banwell, a short and most the mind, as well as what had been the satisfactory statement of what are the practice of his divine Master; and do we sentiments prevailing generally on this find him urging that, because Christ ate part of the subject among the members of or drank any particular article, that he the temperance society. had therefore a right to use it under all "I am well aware of the specious ob- circumstances, or that it might not even jection which has been raised, that as be sinful in him to do so? Quite the redrunkenness was a sin known at the time verse; while regarding such things as of our Saviour's incarnation, and he set neither good nor evil in themselves, he is no example of total abstinence, that con- guided by the effect which his using them sequently his example is against us: nay, may produce on the eternal interests of more, that if it is now insisted on as a his fellow-men. And such is the applipoint of Christian obligation, it would be cation we make of the Saviour's conduct, imputing to Christ and his apostles a fail- believing that we cannot have a better ure in their duty. judge, or a more experienced commenta. "In'meeting this objection, I do not tor on all his actions, than St. Paul. wish to dwell upon the fact, that the wines "The great principle which our Sa. of Judea were widely different from the viour gives us, and which his whole ex. intoxicating liquors now causing so much ample enforces, as to our conduct towards sin and misery in our land. I would our fellow-creatures, is to love them as 46 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. ourselves. To bring His example in as you like yourselves, but never attempt things indifferent, so as in any way to to deprive a free-born English laborer militate against this principle, must be of the roast beef and brown ale c' his wrong." country." Did the English laborer always manage to get his roast beef along with his brown ale, less would perhaps be said on the subject; but, unfortunately, in too many cases, the beef is wholly CHAPTER VI. wanting. The advocates of total abstinence therefore reply, "we deny the poor PRIV.ATE OBJECTIONS, AND GENERAL ENCTO AGEMENTS. Glaborer nothing. He is a free agent when COURACv.~r~TS., he takes the temperance pledge, and is HAVING glanced slightly at some of the quite at liberty to withdraw his name most serious objections to total abstinence, whenever he wishes to discontinue the and such as will be found in many of the practice. But we invite him, and we do temperance publications more ably and this with the most cordial desire to promore fully refuted, we will turn our at- mote his welfare-we invite him to extention to those of a less serious nature, change his beer for bread, for decent though one can hardly help suspecting clothing, and for a comfortable and rethat the real root of the matter lies in spectable home, all which he has sacrisome of these. I will, therefore, call ficed for beer alone. We invite him to them private objections, because, though give up one article of diet, and that not powerful in their operation upon individ- an essential one, in order that he may ual conduct, they are not frequently purchase a sufficiency of wholesome food brought forward in public, nor made to satisfy the hunger of himself, his wife, grounds of objection, except in the pri- and his children-in order that he may vate intercourse of life. To examine provide for his family a home, give them these objections in detail, however, would the advantages of education, and lay up be to collect together some of the most a store for seasons of sickness, or of old irrational modes of reasoning, and some age." of the most partial and unfounded state- Again, it is said —" Why take up the ments, which have ever been laid before subject of intemperance in particular? the world. A few only of these I will Why be so mightily concerned about that, therefore point out, not as being worthy when so many other kinds of reformation of refutation, but simply as proofs of the are needed?" I am not aware that the unfair and superficial manner in which advocates of temperance are singularly the subject is too frequently treated, even negligent of the wants of their fellowby persons who professedly hold the wel- creatures in other respects; and even if fare of society, and the good of their fel- they should throw more of their energyI low-creatures at heart. and influence into this cause than any "What!" exclaim the lovers of what other, it might surely be permitted them, is called good cheer, and the advocates of as well as others, according to the bent of thile rights of the peoFle,'" would you de- their own minds, or their own views of ny the poor man his beer Do penance personal duty, to choose the field of use. PRIVATE OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. 47J fulness in which to labor. In every ly we should not; and if not in a case of branch of science and philosophy, as well physical calamity, how much less ought as in all arts and manufactures, men are we to hesitate on the same grounds in not quarrelled with, or considered more stemming that destructive tide of moral foolish on other points, because they give evil which has long been waging deadly their time and attention chiefly to one ob- war against our domestic, social, and naject of pursuit or investigation; and why tional prosperity?-more especially since should it not be the same in that higher it seems impossible that our religious senphilosophy which has the moral good of timents should in the slightest degree be mankind in view? Why should certain compromised by pledging ourselves, with individuals not give the energy of their whoever might choose to join us, simply to minds, and the weight, of their influence, the advance of temperance and sobriety. to the support of schools, asylums, or any There is, however, an objection raised other charitable institution whatever, with- by some against this very pledge, which out being accused of absurdity, because is called a vow, in consequence of which they do not give an equal share of atten- those who sign it are supposed to be under tion to every other benevolent institution a sort of bondage, in itself neither rationin the world? It would indeed require nal, agreeable, nor altogether right. But that the mind of man should be supernat- I must here quote again on the subject ural in its vastness and its power, to di- from the societies' address, as conveying vide his attention equally among all the the sentiments of many rather than of one. charitable institutions existing in the pres- It is here observed, that " such objectors ent day, without reducing the operation do not scruple to sign an agreement for of his benevolence to little more than the their own pecuniary advantage, in the mere bestowment of a passing thought shape of a lease, a deed, or a bill, &c. upon each. Why, then, should they object to sign an Then there is another very important agreement for their own moral or physiobjection, and one which must be treated cal advantage, or from the higher motive with more gravity, inasmuch as it arises of benefiting others? There are, no from the fact that the temperance society doubt, many individuals who could ab. is joined in by persons of all religious de- stain without -signing any agreement, and nominations, and even by those of no re- who may therefore, apart from any scruligion at all; and if they meet together ple, consider it of no importance: let in this society for the purpose of being such remember, however, that they ab. less irrational, less disorderly, and less stain, not so much for their own sakes as vicious-why not? If a mighty river for the sake of others, and that the signing should overflow its banks, and threaten to of a pledge has proved of infinite importinundate the land, should we refuse to anrce to the poor drunkard, and been the lend a helping hand to construct an em- blessed means of reclaiming thousands, bankment for the purpose of keeping back whose every previous effort to reform the desolating waters, because here and without signing had failed; why then there a man without religion, or whose should they object to encourage by their religion differed from our own, was en- example that which can do them no harm, gaged in the great work?' Most assured- but which has been, and may still be of 48 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. immense benefit to a poor fallen or falling diminution of intemperance among the brother? Let us view the matter in the people at large. generous spirit of the great apostle, who Good, however, as all this unquestion. declared,' To the weak became I as weak, ably is, it has nothing whatever to do with that I might gain the weak; I am made all the establishment of a respectable society, things to all men, that I might by all means under the encouragement of which the save some.' Would that this disinterested weak and the tempted may find safety and benevolent spirit dwelt in every heart, without disgrace; and those who practise and our appeal on behalf of the suffering only upon themselves, and weigh carefulvictims of intemperance would surely be ly all their own feelings, whether for or answered by discontinuing the custom against the system as it operates upon their which constantly sows the seed from which own health and comfort, know little of the all their miseries spring." enjoyment of those far-stretching views of An exclusive regard for our own indi- benevolence which embrace the good of vidual benefit is natural to all human be- the whole human family, and which glance ings, and if not pursued at the expense of over every little symptom of personal in. injury to others, the principle is certainly convenience, as not worthy of being thought good as far as it goes; because, to use of for a moment, in connection with so vast the words of the old adage, " if every one and important a scheme for the advancewould mend one," the world would soon ment of their fellow-beings in the scale of be better than it is. Thus we cannot but virtue and of happiness. rejoice to observe that the system of total But again, as regards the pledge, it abstinence from intoxicating beverages is should always be remembered, that it is gradually progressing among individuals; only considered binding so long as the that there is now no difficulty in refusing name of the individual remains enrolled to take wine in company, and that, say among those of other members of the sowhat men will, the habits of the friends ciety; that those who thus subscribe their of abstinence are obtaining countenance names to a compact entered into by indiand credit from society in general. No viduals for the benefit of the whole body, one can fail to be convinced of this, who may withdraw them whenever they think looks back to the state of society in Eng- fit; and the fact that many persons do so is land twenty or thirty years ago; and surely sufficient evidence of perfect liberwhile we are well aware that a large pro- ty of choice and free agency being allowportion of the families by whom intemper- ed to all. ance is now discouraged where it was Those who have paid the least attention once allowed, would disdain the thought to the subject, must see that to the temptof associating themselves with a society ed the pledge is necessary, because it is of total abstainers, the fact is very evident a means exactly calculated to operate as that the moving of this great question a check at the only moment when a check throughout this and other countries, and can be availing —at the moment when the the awakening of public attention to so weak are hesitating whether or not they important a subject, has had much to do will take just a little; and if those who with the increased regard for moderation object to the pledge would be kind enough prevailing in respectable families, and the to propose any more agreeable plan by 1~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PRIVATE OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. 49 which the same kind of check could be envy, and rich men give their gold to buy. brought into operation in an equally effi. Why, on that very page, disfigured by cacious manner, I do not think the friends the unskilled lettering of a ploughman's of the Total Abstinence Society are so wed- hand, there are tears of such intense and ded to their own system as not to be will- exquisite delight, as unsophisticated Nature ing to exchange it for a better. weeps when her emotions are too strong It has frequently happened, in conse- for smiles. quence of the fallibility of human reason, Upon -that page, perhaps, the fond and that the first system adopted for the pre- faithful wife is gazing, heedless of the vention of any particular kind of evil, or passing crowd. Her thoughts go back to the promotion of any good, has not been the dark ruined home she has just left by any means the best. Indeed, the very without a hope, and to her poor babes, who, defects of the system in its early operation weak with hunger, wept themselves to have awakened a spirit of opposition, which sleep. With borrowed cloak to hide her in its turn has originated another and a destitution, she stole out at the dark hour, better system for carrying out the same and mixing in the crowd, found place object. Thus we have some of us looked among her fellows in poverty and dis. long and earnestly to the avowed opponents tress, who came at least to hear of a strange of the total abstinence scheme of reforma- but simple plan for calling back such wan. tion, for some other —some nobler, and, derers as her husband long had been. at the same time, more effectual device, And now she listens most intently, for the for accomplishing the same great end; language is all such as comes home to her but while all agree that the object is good, experience, and is level with her underand all desire that the absolute drunkard standing. The speaker must have known should be reclaimed, not one of these en. her case. He tells of hope! but nolightened individuals has yet favored us that never can be hers! If he were here with a better scheme than our own; and — perhaps-and then a deep, deep sigh until they do so, we must be satisfied to go bursts from her lips; but she listens still, on upon our present plan, by no means and more intently, to the speaker's moving discouraged by what we already see and words, until her heart becomes too full; know of its results. and she looks round to see if any among Often as the motives of human beings her neighbors —for of friends she has none are mistaken in their transactions one with left-are there to profit by those words of another, often as the actions of the benev- touching truth. What ails the woman? olent are misunderstood, and a mean or Whom has she seen among the crowd? selfish character assigned to feelings the Her cheek is flushed with burning crimmost noble and disinterested, never have son, and her eyes are bright with living such motives, actions, or feelings, been fire. It is-it must be him! She cannot more grossly misrepresented, than in ref- be mistaken in her husband's form, still erence to the temperance pledge. Oh! beautiful to her. Far back among the could such cavillers be made to believe crowd he stands with folded arms, his me when I say, there are sensations of gaze intent upon the speaker's face. No thrilling interest connected with the sign- smile of thoughtless folly flits across his ing of this pledge, which heroes well might brow, but a deep earnestness is stamped 50 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. on every feature as he gazes on. But Such are the scenes which cheer on what is that which moves him now? A every hand the laborer in the temperance simple tale of woman's truth. The wife cause, and if this passing sketch convey a beholds him dash the tear-drop from his slight idea of the interest excited by such eye. A gathering mist is in her own, but scenes, what must be that of entering into she forgets it all; nothing is present with the details of family and individual hisher but that other self-that life in which tory, where all things temporal and eteralone she lives. Alas! it is all over: the nal are at stake, and all hang as it speaker ceases, and the company breaks were upon the transcript of a single up. The wife waits anxiously the mo- name? ment when her husband shall withdraw, Nor is the situation of the drunkard's thinking to join him at the door; yet, wife, sad though it be, the only one which fearing to intrude too hastily upon his soft- claims our sympathy on these occasions. ened feelings, she stands patiently resign- The little hungry and neglected child of ed, with folded arms upon her breast, an intemperate mother will sometimes pushed here and there by the receding come alone to sign; the old man with crowd, no one of whom takes note of her gray hairs, whose sons have all gone or hers. Still there is something to be down before him, with this curse upon done beside the platform where the speak- them, to untimely graves. And if nother stands, and numbers gather to the spot. ing else affected us in such cases, one A book is opened —a pen is offered-a kind would suppose it might be enough to and friendly voice invites the company to touch a. heart of common mould, to think sign. Make way! the figure of a man only of the poverty and destitution of advances from behind. Make way! for those who thus come forward to make a wonder glances forth from every eye. voluntary surrender of what has become Behind that figure is a female form-a to them their only means of bodily enjoyshadow-a pale faded thing, so feeble that ment. We can go home to our abun. she cannot stand, but leans upon his dance, to the cheering hearth, the social shoulder with one clasping arm. " There! board, and to all those delicate and varied I have signed!" exclaimed the man; "'and substitutes for gratifying pampered appenow, my wife, come home, and let us pray tite, which custom has sanctioned, or into-night." Stop but one moment. What genuity devised. We have all these, but a hand is hers! so thin, so trembling; the poor have nothing-more especially yet she grasps that pen as if it were a rod the intemperate poor; and, therefore, when of iron, to inscribe deep words of mercy they have signed the pledge, they have in the rock forever. They pass away made what to them was the greatest postogether-that penniless and friendless sible sacrifice which duty could require; pair, strong in each other's truth, rich in because, in proportion as they had previeach other's love. Weeks glide away- ously given themselves up to the destrucmonths-or perhaps a year; and they are tive habit of existing upon stimulants seen together now, so happy! with their alone, their homes had become stripped rosy children, standing at their cottage of every other source of comfort or r'clul. door-their blazing fire and clean swept gence, and that which was in reality their hearth, and plenteous table spread within. ruin, had, in all probability, come to be PRIVATE OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. applied to, in order to make them forget with the refined and fastidious, when not that they had nothing else. thus seriously impressed, that many pubWhat an effort then is this! what a lic speakers on the temperance question sacrifice for a poor ignorant man or wo- are illiterate, and some of them injudiman to make! and what a privilege to be cious men. enabled to assist them, by making the It is, however, a hard-I had almost said same sacrifice ourselves, in kind, though a cruel case, when respectable and enlightby no means in degree! Indeed, there is ened individuals stand aloof from the cause something in looking upon an assembly for this reason-because if they and their of persons of this description-in marking associates of the same class would come the tearful eyes and faded cheeks of those forward in its support, there would no who are struggling against temptation, longer be any need to trust the manageeither to themselves or others, as against ment of temperance matters so much to a mighty foe; there is something, too, in the hands of ignorant or illiterate men. visiting their destitute and comfortless The absurdities of which they complain abodes, and giving them a word of en- would then be done away with: the evils couragement, from our own experience, in would be remedied; the objectors themfavor of making the experiment at least; selves teaching us a more excellent way there is something in passing the senseless of influencing the people at large. drunkard reeling home, and thinking that It seems strange, however, that the toe have ceased to be one of the number charge of absurdity should so often be who help on his way to ruin; there is brought forward against the temperate something in these thoughts and feelings class. In my own ignorance, I should so far beyond the common interests which have supposed that rather attached to the pervade the mere etiquette of polished opposite party, and that we gave our society, that if any one should ask me countenance to absurdity more effectualwhat they could have recourse to as a ly, by joining in the habit of drinking means of excitement to supply the want wine, than in uniting ourselves with those of wine, I should recommend them to try who abstain from such things altogether. the excitement of joining heart and hand I should have thought too, in the same in the promotion of the temperance cause. ignorance, that had we sought the world Persons deeplyimpressed with the impor- over for instances of absurdity, those tance of these subjects of profound interest, which result from intoxication could not which are necessarily involved in the tem- have been exceeded in any of its differperance question, are not likely to have ent stages, from the first of excitement, their attention diverted from the main to the last of imbecility-f-rom the bufpoints of discussion, by any little inaccu- foon at a country fair, to the gentleman racies of style or diction which occur in who leaves his wine at a late hour to the public advocacy of the cause. Hence make himself agreeable in the drawing it is possible they may think less than room to the ladies. I should have thought some others do, of the particular manner that to partake, even in a slight degree, in which that advocacy is maintained. It of that which produced this absurdity in may naturally be supposed, however, to others, had been something like an apconstitute rather an important objection proach to absurdity in ourselves. But 52 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. the world is unquestionably a wise world, or appreciated by those who have only and these are enlightened times; and the gone along with them to the extent of opinions of individuals must bow before countenancing total abstinence as anexthose of the many. cellent thingfor the poor. Again, respectable persons, and espe- But there is another objection which I cially those who have much depending speak of last, not because it is least imupon the orderly and systematic opera- portant, quite the contrary; for I believe tions of laborers and work-people, are it to be beyond all comparison more influvery fond of saying that total abstinence ential than any other, or than all others is a good thing for the poor, and as such put together, in its practical influence they often give it the advantage of their upon individual conduct. It may safely countenance to a certain extent. Even be said to rule paramount in its wide. this acknowledgment is good, so far as it spreading power to deter both men or goes, and even this countenance is of use, women of all classes,-the old and the for the poor are not so much accustomed young, the rich and the poor, the good and to look to the rich for sympathy and en- the evil, from signing their names to the couragemrent, as to depend entirely upon temperance pledge. Indeed this single them for their support; and in the tem- ground of objection is of such overwhelmperance reformation more especially, they ing potency, that vast numbers who have have learned a new lesson of reliance the self-denial, and who are now most upon themselves. It would not seem scrupulous abstainers, would shrink from very wonderful however, if the poor un- the bare idea of connecting themselves der such circumstances should sometimes with a temperance society. retort upon us, and say-" If you who The fact is, they consider it low, and enjoy all the luxuries of life and have no in that one word, we read the sad and need to labor, cannot live without your irretrievable doom of all those poor tempt. wine, how can you expect a hard-working ed ones, who would willingly sign the man who has nothing else, to live without temperance pledge, if any considerable his beer?" number of the ladies or gentlemen of And this has been said many times, and their acquaintance had done so. would unquestionably be repeated much In hearing this objection brought foroftener than it is, did not some noble in- ward, which we do almost every day, stances present themselves to our view, and in detecting its secret influence, of wealthy and influential persons who which we do still more frequently, I have have come forward practically and heart- often wondered, as in the case of absurdiily to join in the cause, on the same foot- ty, what could be more low, than the ing as the poor, or.. at least so far as cir- drinking practices of our country. It is curnstances would allow their. situation to true that in these, at least in their excess, be the same;;nor am I aware that they the delicate and respectable part of the have lost any thing Qf their importance,. or community do not immediately join; but their good influence in. other, respects, the miserable and degrading practices from such association. What they have themselves are evident to us almost at evgained in peace of mind,,satisfaction, and ery step in walking the streets of our large happiness, can never be fully understood towns; while often in the summer's even PRIVATE OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. 53 ing's ramble, those village sounds, which There is a class of individuals, and I poetry has ever loved to describe, are have the privilege of being associated broken into discord by the mingling of with one, who speak of every kind of insane laughter, and anger even more in- wickedness as being merely in "bad sane. taste," and consequently, not worthy of Now one would certainly have thought, their attention either in one way or anin the first view of the case, that a deli- other. Now, although this may be a cate-minded Christian lady. for instance, very comfortable way of passing over would scarcely, even on the ground of much that is painful in the aspect of this vulgarity, have chosen to regale herself life, for my own part, 1 envy not the drawwith the same kind of stimulus which she ing-room distinction of being ignorant that knew to have produced these rude revels, there is such a thing as vice existing and these inhuman sounds. But truly in the world. But knowing what we do the science of refinement is a mysterious know, seeing what we must see, unless and profound one, and it needs the school- our physical as well as moral perceping of a lifetime to teach a common tions were strangely obscured, can we mind, how total abstinence from every stand aloof and refuse to lend a helping thing which can intoxicate, is essentially hand to those who are perishing, because less low than to give our countenance, by it is not polite or fashionable or approved the influence of habit, to the very prac- in the higher circles, to attempt to save tice which is associated with more vul- them? garity than any other now existing No one knows better than myself the among mankind. pain of choosing such a theme as that But granting the reasonableness of which occupies these pages, and if it had throwing the stigma of vulgarity on the not been sufficiently repugnant to my side of abstinence, there is a material dif- own feelings, there are kind friends who ference betwixt joining with the low for would have made it so by their harsh and the purpose of raising their moral charac- uncharitable remarks, as if it had been a ter, and joining with them in the use of thing of mere pastime to write about the that which must necessarily make them poor drunkard and his degradation. I lower still. The most fastidiousofChristian would not, however, willingly exchange ladies would scarcely hesitate to enter a my humbling part for that which they village church because a great proportion take in this matter; for happier, far hapof the congregation there consisted of the pier is the thought of doing nothing to poor. No, she would rather welcome accelerate the ruin of those who, from this land encourage their attendance, as a fatal cause, are falling too rapidly around means of rendering them more enlight- us, than of having thrown the weight of aened, and consequently, more refined; our influence, just so far as it had weight, and if, in the one case, we believe that on the side of an enemy already too powthe influence of religion will effect this erful for the weak to conquer, or the change, in the other, we have reason to tempted to resist. believe that the influence of total absti- To these, as well as all other objectors nence will at least effect a moral and to the operation of the temperance pledge, physical amendment. I would say one word in conclusion: you 54 A VOICE FROM THE VINTAGE. cannot stop the progress of this cause; er, who then will be the friends whose perhaps you would not if you could; why pity you will ask-whose protection you then attempt to wound its advocates? will claim? Will they not be those who The enemy, perchance, is far from you. have formed themselves into a society for He may not yet have reached your fami- the purpose of arresting the progress of ly or breathed a blight upon your name. this desolating vice, and of saving the vicBut if the time should ever come when tim of intemperance when he could not you or yours should fall beneath his pow- save himself?!I~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I fll