CHAPTER IV.
IS there such a feeling as love at first sight? And if there be, in whatdoes its nature differ from love founded in long observation and slowgrowth? Perhaps its effects are not so permanent; but they are, while theylast, as violent and intense. We walk the pathless mazes of society, vacantof joy, till we hold this clue, leading us through that labyrinth toparadise. Our nature dim, like to an unlighted torch, sleeps in formlessblank till the fire attain it; this life of life, this light to moon, andglory to the sun. What does it matter, whether the fire be struck fromflint and steel, nourished with care into a flame, slowly communicated tothe dark wick, or whether swiftly the radiant power of light and warmthpasses from a kindred power, and shines at once the beacon and the hope. Inthe deepest fountain of my heart the pulses were stirred; around, above,beneath, the clinging Memory as a cloak enwrapt me. In no one moment ofcoming time did I feel as I had done in time gone by. The spirit of Idrishovered in the air I breathed; her eyes were ever and for ever bent onmine; her remembered smile blinded my faint gaze, and caused me to walk asone, not in eclipse, not in darkness and vacancy--but in a new andbrilliant light, too novel, too dazzling for my human senses. On everyleaf, on every small division of the universe, (as on the hyacinth ai isengraved) was imprinted the talisman of my existence--SHE LIVES! SHE IS!--I had not time yet to analyze my feeling, to take myself to task, andleash in the tameless passion; all was one idea, one feeling, one knowledge--it was my life!
But the die was cast--Raymond would marry Idris. The merry marriage bellsrung in my ears; I heard the nation's gratulation which followed the union;the ambitious noble uprose with swift eagle-flight, from the lowly groundto regal supremacy--and to the love of Idris. Yet, not so! She did notlove him; she had called me her friend; she had smiled on me; to me she hadentrusted her heart's dearest hope, the welfare of Adrian. This reflectionthawed my congealing blood, and again the tide of life and love flowedimpetuously onward, again to ebb as my busy thoughts changed.
The debate had ended at three in the morning. My soul was in tumults; Itraversed the streets with eager rapidity. Truly, I was mad that night--love--which I have named a giant from its birth, wrestled with despair!My heart, the field of combat, was wounded by the iron heel of the one,watered by the gushing tears of the other. Day, hateful to me, dawned; Iretreated to my lodgings--I threw myself on a couch--I slept--was itsleep?--for thought was still alive--love and despair struggled still,and I writhed with unendurable pain.
I awoke half stupefied; I felt a heavy oppression on me, but knew notwherefore; I entered, as it were, the council-chamber of my brain, andquestioned the various ministers of thought therein assembled; too soon Iremembered all; too soon my limbs quivered beneath the tormenting power;soon, too soon, I knew myself a slave!
Suddenly, unannounced, Lord Raymond entered my apartment. He came in gaily,singing the Tyrolese song of liberty; noticed me with a gracious nod, andthrew himself on a sopha opposite the copy of a bust of the ApolloBelvidere. After one or two trivial remarks, to which I sullenly replied,he suddenly cried, looking at the bust, "I am called like that victor! Nota bad idea; the head will serve for my new coinage, and be an omen to alldutiful subjects of my future success."
He said this in his most gay, yet benevolent manner, and smiled, notdisdainfully, but in playful mockery of himself. Then his countenancesuddenly darkened, and in that shrill tone peculiar to himself, he cried,"I fought a good battle last night; higher conquest the plains of Greecenever saw me achieve. Now I am the first man in the state, burthen of everyballad, and object of old women's mumbled devotions. What are yourmeditations? You, who fancy that you can read the human soul, as yournative lake reads each crevice and folding of its surrounding hills--saywhat you think of me; king-expectant, angel or devil, which?"
This ironical tone was discord to my bursting, over-boiling-heart; I wasnettled by his insolence, and replied with bitterness; "There is a spirit,neither angel or devil, damned to limbo merely." I saw his cheeks becomepale, and his lips whiten and quiver; his anger served but to enkindlemine, and I answered with a determined look his eyes which glared on me;suddenly they were withdrawn, cast down, a tear, I thought, wetted the darklashes; I was softened, and with involuntary emotion added, "Not that youare such, my dear lord."
I paused, even awed by the agitation he evinced; "Yes," he said at length,rising and biting his lip, as he strove to curb his passion; "Such am I!You do not know me, Verney; neither you, nor our audience of last night,nor does universal England know aught of me. I stand here, it would seem,an elected king; this hand is about to grasp a sceptre; these brows feel ineach nerve the coming diadem. I appear to have strength, power, victory;standing as a dome-supporting column stands; and I am--a reed! I haveambition, and that attains its aim; my nightly dreams are realized, mywaking hopes fulfilled; a kingdom awaits my acceptance, my enemies areoverthrown. But here," and he struck his heart with violence, "here is therebel, here the stumbling-block; this over-ruling heart, which I may drainof its living blood; but, while one fluttering pulsation remains, I am itsslave."
He spoke with a broken voice, then bowed his head, and, hiding his face inhis hands, wept. I was still smarting from my own disappointment; yet thisscene oppressed me even to terror, nor could I interrupt his access ofpassion. It subsided at length; and, throwing himself on the couch, heremained silent and motionless, except that his changeful features shewed astrong internal conflict. At last he rose, and said in his usual tone ofvoice, "The time grows on us, Verney, I must away. Let me not forget mychiefest errand here. Will you accompany me to Windsor to-morrow? You willnot be dishonoured by my society, and as this is probably the last service,or disservice you can do me, will you grant my request?"
He held out his hand with almost a bashful air. Swiftly I thought--Yes, Iwill witness the last scene of the drama. Beside which, his mien conqueredme, and an affectionate sentiment towards him, again filled my heart--Ibade him command me. "Aye, that I will," said he gaily, "that's my cue now;be with me to-morrow morning by seven; be secret and faithful; and youshall be groom of the stole ere long."
So saying, he hastened away, vaulted on his horse, and with a gesture as ifhe gave me his hand to kiss, bade me another laughing adieu. Left tomyself, I strove with painful intensity to divine the motive of his requestand foresee the events of the coming day. The hours passed on unperceived;my head ached with thought, the nerves seemed teeming with the over fullfraught--I clasped my burning brow, as if my fevered hand could medicineits pain. I was punctual to the appointed hour on the following day, andfound Lord Raymond waiting for me. We got into his carriage, and proceededtowards Windsor. I had tutored myself, and was resolved by no outward signto disclose my internal agitation.
"What a mistake Ryland made," said Raymond, "when he thought to overpowerme the other night. He spoke well, very well; such an harangue would havesucceeded better addressed to me singly, than to the fools and knavesassembled yonder. Had I been alone, I should have listened to him with awish to hear reason, but when he endeavoured to vanquish me in my ownterritory, with my own weapons, he put me on my mettle, and the event wassuch as all might have expected."
I smiled incredulously, and replied: "I am of Ryland's way of thinking, andwill, if you please, repeat all his arguments; we shall see how far youwill be induced by them, to change the royal for the patriotic style."
"The repetition would be useless," said Raymond, "since I well rememberthem, and have many others, self-suggested, which speak with unanswerablepersuasion."
He did not explain himself, nor did I make any remark on his reply. Oursilence endured for some miles, till the country with open fields, or shadywoods and parks, presented pleasant objects to our view. After someobservations on the scenery and seats, Raymond said: "Philosophers havecalled man a microcosm of nature, and find a reflection in the internalmind for all this machinery visibly at work around us. This theory hasoften been a source of amusement to me; and many an idle hour have I spent,exercisi
ng my ingenuity in finding resemblances. Does not Lord Bacon saythat, 'the falling from a discord to a concord, which maketh greatsweetness in music, hath an agreement with the affections, which arere-integrated to the better after some dislikes?' What a sea is the tide ofpassion, whose fountains are in our own nature! Our virtues are thequick-sands, which shew themselves at calm and low water; but let the wavesarise and the winds buffet them, and the poor devil whose hope was in theirdurability, finds them sink from under him. The fashions of the world, itsexigencies, educations and pursuits, are winds to drive our wills, likeclouds all one way; but let a thunderstorm arise in the shape of love,hate, or ambition, and the rack goes backward, stemming the opposing air intriumph."
"Yet," replied I, "nature always presents to our eyes the appearance of apatient: while there is an active principle in man which is capable ofruling fortune, and at least of tacking against the gale, till it in somemode conquers it."
"There is more of what is specious than true in your distinction," said mycompanion. "Did we form ourselves, choosing our dispositions, and ourpowers? I find myself, for one, as a stringed instrument with chords andstops--but I have no power to turn the pegs, or pitch my thoughts to ahigher or lower key."
"Other men," I observed, "may be better musicians."
"I talk not of others, but myself," replied Raymond, "and I am as fair anexample to go by as another. I cannot set my heart to a particular tune, orrun voluntary changes on my will. We are born; we choose neither ourparents, nor our station; we are educated by others, or by the world'scircumstance, and this cultivation, mingling with our innate disposition,is the soil in which our desires, passions, and motives grow."
"There is much truth in what you say," said I, "and yet no man ever actsupon this theory. Who, when he makes a choice, says, Thus I choose, becauseI am necessitated? Does he not on the contrary feel a freedom of willwithin him, which, though you may call it fallacious, still actuates him ashe decides?"
"Exactly so," replied Raymond, "another link of the breakless chain.Were I now to commit an act which would annihilate my hopes, andpluck the regal garment from my mortal limbs, to clothe them in ordinaryweeds, would this, think you, be an act of free-will on my part?"
As we talked thus, I perceived that we were not going the ordinary road toWindsor, but through Englefield Green, towards Bishopgate Heath. I began todivine that Idris was not the object of our journey, but that I was broughtto witness the scene that was to decide the fate of Raymond--and ofPerdita. Raymond had evidently vacillated during his journey, andirresolution was marked in every gesture as we entered Perdita's cottage. Iwatched him curiously, determined that, if this hesitation should continue,I would assist Perdita to overcome herself, and teach her to disdain thewavering love of him, who balanced between the possession of a crown, andof her, whose excellence and affection transcended the worth of akingdom.
We found her in her flower-adorned alcove; she was reading the newspaperreport of the debate in parliament, that apparently doomed her tohopelessness. That heart-sinking feeling was painted in her sunk eyes andspiritless attitude; a cloud was on her beauty, and frequent sighs weretokens of her distress. This sight had an instantaneous effect on Raymond;his eyes beamed with tenderness, and remorse clothed his manners withearnestness and truth. He sat beside her; and, taking the paper from herhand, said, "Not a word more shall my sweet Perdita read of this contentionof madmen and fools. I must not permit you to be acquainted with the extentof my delusion, lest you despise me; although, believe me, a wish to appearbefore you, not vanquished, but as a conqueror, inspired me during my wordywar."
Perdita looked at him like one amazed; her expressive countenance shone fora moment with tenderness; to see him only was happiness. But a bitterthought swiftly shadowed her joy; she bent her eyes on the ground,endeavouring to master the passion of tears that threatened to overwhelmher. Raymond continued, "I will not act a part with you, dear girl, orappear other than what I am, weak and unworthy, more fit to excite yourdisdain than your love. Yet you do love me; I feel and know that you do,and thence I draw my most cherished hopes. If pride guided you, or evenreason, you might well reject me. Do so; if your high heart, incapable ofmy infirmity of purpose, refuses to bend to the lowness of mine. Turn fromme, if you will,--if you can. If your whole soul does not urge you toforgive me--if your entire heart does not open wide its door to admit meto its very centre, forsake me, never speak to me again. I, though sinningagainst you almost beyond remission, I also am proud; there must be noreserve in your pardon--no drawback to the gift of your affection."
Perdita looked down, confused, yet pleased. My presence embarrassed her; sothat she dared not turn to meet her lover's eye, or trust her voice toassure him of her affection; while a blush mantled her cheek, and herdisconsolate air was exchanged for one expressive of deep-felt joy. Raymondencircled her waist with his arm, and continued, "I do not deny that I havebalanced between you and the highest hope that mortal men can entertain;but I do so no longer. Take me--mould me to your will, possess my heartand soul to all eternity. If you refuse to contribute to my happiness, Iquit England to-night, and will never set foot in it again.
"Lionel, you hear: witness for me: persuade your sister to forgive theinjury I have done her; persuade her to be mine."
"There needs no persuasion," said the blushing Perdita, "except your owndear promises, and my ready heart, which whispers to me that they aretrue."
That same evening we all three walked together in the forest, and, with thegarrulity which happiness inspires, they detailed to me the history oftheir loves. It was pleasant to see the haughty Raymond and reservedPerdita changed through happy love into prattling, playful children, bothlosing their characteristic dignity in the fulness of mutual contentment. Anight or two ago Lord Raymond, with a brow of care, and a heart oppressedwith thought, bent all his energies to silence or persuade the legislatorsof England that a sceptre was not too weighty for his hand, while visionsof dominion, war, and triumph floated before him; now, frolicsome as alively boy sporting under his mother's approving eye, the hopes of hisambition were complete, when he pressed the small fair hand of Perdita tohis lips; while she, radiant with delight, looked on the still pool, nottruly admiring herself, but drinking in with rapture the reflection theremade of the form of herself and her lover, shewn for the first time in dearconjunction.
I rambled away from them. If the rapture of assured sympathy was theirs, Ienjoyed that of restored hope. I looked on the regal towers of Windsor.High is the wall and strong the barrier that separate me from my Star ofBeauty. But not impassible. She will not be his. A few more years dwell inthy native garden, sweet flower, till I by toil and time acquire a right togather thee. Despair not, nor bid me despair! What must I do now? First Imust seek Adrian, and restore him to her. Patience, gentleness, and untiredaffection, shall recall him, if it be true, as Raymond says, that he ismad; energy and courage shall rescue him, if he be unjustly imprisoned.
After the lovers again joined me, we supped together in the alcove. Trulyit was a fairy's supper; for though the air was perfumed by the scent offruits and wine, we none of us either ate or drank--even the beauty ofthe night was unobserved; their extasy could not be increased by outwardobjects, and I was wrapt in reverie. At about midnight Raymond and I tookleave of my sister, to return to town. He was all gaiety; scraps of songsfell from his lips; every thought of his mind--every object about us,gleamed under the sunshine of his mirth. He accused me of melancholy, ofill-humour and envy.
"Not so," said I, "though I confess that my thoughts are not occupied aspleasantly as yours are. You promised to facilitate my visit to Adrian; Iconjure you to perform your promise. I cannot linger here; I long to soothe--perhaps to cure the malady of my first and best friend. I shallimmediately depart for Dunkeld."
"Thou bird of night," replied Raymond, "what an eclipse do you throw acrossmy bright thoughts, forcing me to call to mind that melancholy ruin, whichstands in mental desolation, more irreparable than
a fragment of a carvedcolumn in a weed-grown field. You dream that you can restore him? Daedalusnever wound so inextricable an error round Minotaur, as madness has wovenabout his imprisoned reason. Nor you, nor any other Theseus, can thread thelabyrinth, to which perhaps some unkind Ariadne has the clue."
"You allude to Evadne Zaimi: but she is not in England."
"And were she," said Raymond, "I would not advise her seeing him. Better todecay in absolute delirium, than to be the victim of the methodicalunreason of ill-bestowed love. The long duration of his malady has probablyerased from his mind all vestige of her; and it were well that it shouldnever again be imprinted. You will find him at Dunkeld; gentle andtractable he wanders up the hills, and through the wood, or sits listeningbeside the waterfall. You may see him--his hair stuck with wild flowers--his eyes full of untraceable meaning--his voice broken--his personwasted to a shadow. He plucks flowers and weeds, and weaves chaplets ofthem, or sails yellow leaves and bits of bark on the stream, rejoicing intheir safety, or weeping at their wreck. The very memory half unmans me. ByHeaven! the first tears I have shed since boyhood rushed scalding into myeyes when I saw him."
It needed not this last account to spur me on to visit him. I only doubtedwhether or not I should endeavour to see Idris again, before I departed.This doubt was decided on the following day. Early in the morning Raymondcame to me; intelligence had arrived that Adrian was dangerously ill, andit appeared impossible that his failing strength should surmount thedisorder. "To-morrow," said Raymond, "his mother and sister set out forScotland to see him once again."
"And I go to-day," I cried; "this very hour I will engage a sailingballoon; I shall be there in forty-eight hours at furthest, perhaps inless, if the wind is fair. Farewell, Raymond; be happy in having chosen thebetter part in life. This turn of fortune revives me. I feared madness, notsickness--I have a presentiment that Adrian will not die; perhaps thisillness is a crisis, and he may recover."
Everything favoured my journey. The balloon rose about half a mile from theearth, and with a favourable wind it hurried through the air, its featheredvans cleaving the unopposing atmosphere. Notwithstanding the melancholyobject of my journey, my spirits were exhilarated by reviving hope, by theswift motion of the airy pinnace, and the balmy visitation of the sunnyair. The pilot hardly moved the plumed steerage, and the slender mechanismof the wings, wide unfurled, gave forth a murmuring noise, soothing to thesense. Plain and hill, stream and corn-field, were discernible below, whilewe unimpeded sped on swift and secure, as a wild swan in his spring-tideflight. The machine obeyed the slightest motion of the helm; and, the windblowing steadily, there was no let or obstacle to our course. Such was thepower of man over the elements; a power long sought, and lately won; yetforetold in by-gone time by the prince of poets, whose verses I quoted muchto the astonishment of my pilot, when I told him how many hundred years agothey had been written:--
Oh! human wit, thou can'st invent much ill, Thou searchest strange arts: who would think by skill, An heavy man like a light bird should stray, And through the empty heavens find a way?
I alighted at Perth; and, though much fatigued by a constant exposure tothe air for many hours, I would not rest, but merely altering my mode ofconveyance, I went by land instead of air, to Dunkeld. The sun was risingas I entered the opening of the hills. After the revolution of ages Birnamhill was again covered with a young forest, while more aged pines, plantedat the very commencement of the nineteenth century by the then Duke ofAthol, gave solemnity and beauty to the scene. The rising sun first tingedthe pine tops; and my mind, rendered through my mountain education deeplysusceptible of the graces of nature, and now on the eve of again beholdingmy beloved and perhaps dying friend, was strangely influenced by the sightof those distant beams: surely they were ominous, and as such I regardedthem, good omens for Adrian, on whose life my happiness depended.
Poor fellow! he lay stretched on a bed of sickness, his cheeks glowing withthe hues of fever, his eyes half closed, his breath irregular anddifficult. Yet it was less painful to see him thus, than to find himfulfilling the animal functions uninterruptedly, his mind sick the while. Iestablished myself at his bedside; I never quitted it day or night. Bittertask was it, to behold his spirit waver between death and life: to see hiswarm cheek, and know that the very fire which burned too fiercely there,was consuming the vital fuel; to hear his moaning voice, which might neveragain articulate words of love and wisdom; to witness the ineffectualmotions of his limbs, soon to be wrapt in their mortal shroud. Such forthree days and nights appeared the consummation which fate had decreed formy labours, and I became haggard and spectre-like, through anxiety andwatching. At length his eyes unclosed faintly, yet with a look of returninglife; he became pale and weak; but the rigidity of his features wassoftened by approaching convalescence. He knew me. What a brimful cup ofjoyful agony it was, when his face first gleamed with the glance ofrecognition--when he pressed my hand, now more fevered than his own, andwhen he pronounced my name! No trace of his past insanity remained, to dashmy joy with sorrow.
This same evening his mother and sister arrived. The Countess of Windsorwas by nature full of energetic feeling; but she had very seldom in herlife permitted the concentrated emotions of her heart to shew themselves onher features. The studied immovability of her countenance; her slow,equable manner, and soft but unmelodious voice, were a mask, hiding herfiery passions, and the impatience of her disposition. She did not in theleast resemble either of her children; her black and sparkling eye, lit upby pride, was totally unlike the blue lustre, and frank, benignantexpression of either Adrian or Idris. There was something grand andmajestic in her motions, but nothing persuasive, nothing amiable. Tall,thin, and strait, her face still handsome, her raven hair hardly tingedwith grey, her forehead arched and beautiful, had not the eye-brows beensomewhat scattered--it was impossible not to be struck by her, almost tofear her. Idris appeared to be the only being who could resist her mother,notwithstanding the extreme mildness of her character. But there was afearlessness and frankness about her, which said that she would notencroach on another's liberty, but held her own sacred and unassailable.
The Countess cast no look of kindness on my worn-out frame, thoughafterwards she thanked me coldly for my attentions. Not so Idris; her firstglance was for her brother; she took his hand, she kissed his eye-lids, andhung over him with looks of compassion and love. Her eyes glistened withtears when she thanked me, and the grace of her expressions was enhanced,not diminished, by the fervour, which caused her almost to falter as shespoke. Her mother, all eyes and ears, soon interrupted us; and I saw, thatshe wished to dismiss me quietly, as one whose services, now that hisrelatives had arrived, were of no use to her son. I was harassed and ill,resolved not to give up my post, yet doubting in what way I should assertit; when Adrian called me, and clasping my hand, bade me not leave him. Hismother, apparently inattentive, at once understood what was meant, andseeing the hold we had upon her, yielded the point to us.
The days that followed were full of pain to me; so that I sometimesregretted that I had not yielded at once to the haughty lady, who watchedall my motions, and turned my beloved task of nursing my friend to a workof pain and irritation. Never did any woman appear so entirely made ofmind, as the Countess of Windsor. Her passions had subdued her appetites,even her natural wants; she slept little, and hardly ate at all; her bodywas evidently considered by her as a mere machine, whose health wasnecessary for the accomplishment of her schemes, but whose senses formed nopart of her enjoyment. There is something fearful in one who can thusconquer the animal part of our nature, if the victory be not the effect ofconsummate virtue; nor was it without a mixture of this feeling, that Ibeheld the figure of the Countess awake when others slept, fasting when I,abstemious naturally, and rendered so by the fever that preyed on me, wasforced to recruit myself with food. She resolved to prevent or diminish myopportunities of acquiring influence over her children, and circumvented myplans by a hard, quiet, stubborn resolution,
that seemed not to belong toflesh and blood. War was at last tacitly acknowledged between us. We hadmany pitched battles, during which no word was spoken, hardly a look wasinterchanged, but in which each resolved not to submit to the other. TheCountess had the advantage of position; so I was vanquished, though I wouldnot yield.
I became sick at heart. My countenance was painted with the hues of illhealth and vexation. Adrian and Idris saw this; they attributed it to mylong watching and anxiety; they urged me to rest, and take care of myself,while I most truly assured them, that my best medicine was their goodwishes; those, and the assured convalescence of my friend, now daily moreapparent. The faint rose again blushed on his cheek; his brow and lips lostthe ashy paleness of threatened dissolution; such was the dear reward of myunremitting attention--and bounteous heaven added overflowing recompence,when it gave me also the thanks and smiles of Idris.
After the lapse of a few weeks, we left Dunkeld. Idris and her motherreturned immediately to Windsor, while Adrian and I followed by slowjournies and frequent stoppages, occasioned by his continued weakness. Aswe traversed the various counties of fertile England, all wore anexhilarating appearance to my companion, who had been so long secluded bydisease from the enjoyments of weather and scenery. We passed through busytowns and cultivated plains. The husbandmen were getting in their plenteousharvests, and the women and children, occupied by light rustic toils,formed groupes of happy, healthful persons, the very sight of whom carriedcheerfulness to the heart. One evening, quitting our inn, we strolled downa shady lane, then up a grassy slope, till we came to an eminence, thatcommanded an extensive view of hill and dale, meandering rivers, darkwoods, and shining villages. The sun was setting; and the clouds, straying,like new-shorn sheep, through the vast fields of sky, received the goldencolour of his parting beams; the distant uplands shone out, and the busyhum of evening came, harmonized by distance, on our ear. Adrian, who feltall the fresh spirit infused by returning health, clasped his hands indelight, and exclaimed with transport:
"O happy earth, and happy inhabitants of earth! A stately palace has Godbuilt for you, O man! and worthy are you of your dwelling! Behold theverdant carpet spread at our feet, and the azure canopy above; the fieldsof earth which generate and nurture all things, and the track of heaven,which contains and clasps all things. Now, at this evening hour, at theperiod of repose and refection, methinks all hearts breathe one hymn oflove and thanksgiving, and we, like priests of old on the mountain-tops,give a voice to their sentiment.
"Assuredly a most benignant power built up the majestic fabric we inhabit,and framed the laws by which it endures. If mere existence, and nothappiness, had been the final end of our being, what need of the profuseluxuries which we enjoy? Why should our dwelling place be so lovely, andwhy should the instincts of nature minister pleasurable sensations? Thevery sustaining of our animal machine is made delightful; and oursustenance, the fruits of the field, is painted with transcendant hues,endued with grateful odours, and palatable to our taste. Why should thisbe, if HE were not good? We need houses to protect us from the seasons, andbehold the materials with which we are provided; the growth of trees withtheir adornment of leaves; while rocks of stone piled above the plainsvariegate the prospect with their pleasant irregularity.
"Nor are outward objects alone the receptacles of the Spirit of Good. Lookinto the mind of man, where wisdom reigns enthroned; where imagination, thepainter, sits, with his pencil dipt in hues lovelier than those of sunset,adorning familiar life with glowing tints. What a noble boon, worthy thegiver, is the imagination! it takes from reality its leaden hue: itenvelopes all thought and sensation in a radiant veil, and with an hand ofbeauty beckons us from the sterile seas of life, to her gardens, andbowers, and glades of bliss. And is not love a gift of the divinity? Love,and her child, Hope, which can bestow wealth on poverty, strength on theweak, and happiness on the sorrowing.
"My lot has not been fortunate. I have consorted long with grief, enteredthe gloomy labyrinth of madness, and emerged, but half alive. Yet I thankGod that I have lived! I thank God, that I have beheld his throne, theheavens, and earth, his footstool. I am glad that I have seen the changesof his day; to behold the sun, fountain of light, and the gentle pilgrimmoon; to have seen the fire bearing flowers of the sky, and the flowerystars of earth; to have witnessed the sowing and the harvest. I am gladthat I have loved, and have experienced sympathetic joy and sorrow with myfellow-creatures. I am glad now to feel the current of thought flow throughmy mind, as the blood through the articulations of my frame; mere existenceis pleasure; and I thank God that I live!
"And all ye happy nurslings of mother-earth, do ye not echo my words? Yewho are linked by the affectionate ties of nature, companions, friends,lovers! fathers, who toil with joy for their offspring; women, who whilegazing on the living forms of their children, forget the pains ofmaternity; children, who neither toil nor spin, but love and are loved!
"Oh, that death and sickness were banished from our earthly home! thathatred, tyranny, and fear could no longer make their lair in the humanheart! that each man might find a brother in his fellow, and a nest ofrepose amid the wide plains of his inheritance! that the source of tearswere dry, and that lips might no longer form expressions of sorrow.Sleeping thus under the beneficent eye of heaven, can evil visit thee, OEarth, or grief cradle to their graves thy luckless children? Whisper itnot, let the demons hear and rejoice! The choice is with us; let us willit, and our habitation becomes a paradise. For the will of man isomnipotent, blunting the arrows of death, soothing the bed of disease, andwiping away the tears of agony. And what is each human being worth, if hedo not put forth his strength to aid his fellow-creatures? My soul is afading spark, my nature frail as a spent wave; but I dedicate all ofintellect and strength that remains to me, to that one work, and take uponme the task, as far as I am able, of bestowing blessings on myfellow-men!"
His voice trembled, his eyes were cast up, his hands clasped, and hisfragile person was bent, as it were, with excess of emotion. The spirit oflife seemed to linger in his form, as a dying flame on an altar flickers onthe embers of an accepted sacrifice.