below the weight as of twenty Atlantics, or the burden of inexpiable guilt.[1]
From the Confessions, as a formal narrative, and from others of his scattered writings, we now put together, in immethodical but self-interpreting sequence, a few fragmentary sentences, to illustrate (in particular) that conference of the Three Sisters just quoted, and (in general) the subject of this sketch—viz. the pathos of the Author, one so versed in spiritual conflict, so tossed with tempest, so more than kin in acquaintance with grief. Keeping in mind, throughout, his constitutional tendency to sadness, and proneness to deep searchings of heart: even as he once exclaims, "Ah! Pariah heart within me, that couldst never hear the sound of joy without sullen whispers of treachery in ambush; that, from six years old, didst never hear the promise of perfect love, without seeing aloft amongst the stars fingers as of a man's hand writing the secret legend—'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!'"[2]
Little dreamt that poor forlorn Ann, when she saved his life, of the monument he would rear to her nameless memory. Not often, he tells us, does he weep—the sternness of his habits of thought presenting an antagonism to the feelings which prompt tears; yet, to hear again, by dreamy lamp-light, those airs played on a barrel-organ which solaced him and his poor orphan companion in the days of long-ago,—how can that but blind his eyes with natural drops!—Hear his apostrophe of the unhappy girl:—"Oh, youthful benefactress! how often in succeeding years, standing in solitary places, and thinking of thee with grief of heart and perfect love—how often have I wished that, as in ancient times, the curse of a father was believed to have a supernatural power, and to pursue its object with a fatal necessity of self-fulfilment,—even so, the benediction of a heart oppressed with gratitude might have a like prerogative; might have power given to it from above to chase—to haunt—to waylay—to overtake—to pursue thee into the central darkness of a London brothel, or (if it were possible) into the darkness of the grave—there to awaken thee with an authentic message of peace and forgiveness, and of final reconciliation!"[3] Thrilling apostrophe[4] of her for whose
- ↑ Confessions of an English Opium-eater, passim.
- ↑ The Vision of Sudden Death. (1849.)
- ↑ Confessions of an English Opium-eater. Part I.
- ↑ Another example or two of this writer's impressive use of the Apostrophe, in its relation to the subject of this paper, may here be cited in a note; and let it be held a nota bene. Suffer the quotations inevitably and perhaps vitally must, by this fragmentary mode of presentation; yet quote we will—A bereaved husband and father thus hails the recurrence of his marriage day:—"Oh! calendar of everlasting months—months that, like the mighty rivers, shall flow on for ever, immortal as thou, Nile, or Danube, Euphrates, or St. Lawrence! and ye, summer and winter, day and night, wherefore do ye bring round continually your signs, and seasons, and revolving hours, that still point and barb the anguish of local recollections, telling me of this and that celestial morning that never shall return, and of too blessed expectations, travelling like yourselves through a heavenlv zodiac of changes, till at once and for ever they sank into the grave!"—The Household Wreck.(1838.)Again. The celebrated Edward Irving is thus apostrophised:—"Terrific meteor! unhappy son of fervid genius, which mastered thyself even more than the rapt audiences which at one time hung upon thy lips! were the cup of life once again presented to thy lips, wouldst thou drink again; or wouldst thou not rather turn away from it with shuddering abomination? Sleep, Boanerges! and let the memory of man settle only upon thy colossal powers, without a thought of those
