A form now approached that particularly ſtruck and intereſted Sageſta. The ſage, obſerving what paſſed in her mind, bade her ever truſt to the firſt impreſſion. In life, he continued, try to remember the effect the firſt appearance of a ſtranger has on your mind; and, in proportion to your ſenſibility, you may decide on the character. Intelligence glances from eyes that have the ſame purſuits, and a benevolent heart ſoon traces the marks of benevolence on the countenance of an unknown fellow-creature; and not only the countenance, but the geſtures, the[128] voice, loudly ſpeak truth to the unprejudiced mind.
Whenever a ſtranger advances towards you with a tripping ſtep, receives you with broad ſmiles, and a profuſion of compliments, and yet you find yourſelf embarraſſed and unable to return the ſalutation with equal cordiality, be aſſured that ſuch a perſon is affected, and endeavours to maintain a very good character in the eyes of the world, without really practiſing the ſocial virtues which dreſs the face in looks of unfeigned complacency. Kindred minds are drawn to each other by expreſſions which elude deſcription; and, like the calm breeze that plays on a ſmooth lake, they are rather felt than ſeen. Beware of a man who always appears in good humour; a ſelfiſh deſign too frequently lurks in the ſmiles the heart[129] never curved; or there is an affectation of candour that deſtroys all ſtrength of character, by blending truth and falſhood into an unmeaning maſs. The mouth, in fact, ſeems to be the feature where you may trace every kind of diſſimulation, from the ſimper of vanity, to the fixed ſmile of the deſigning villain. Perhaps, the modulations of the voice will ſtill more quickly give a key to the character than even the turns of the mouth, or the words that iſſue from it; often do the tones of unpractiſed diſſemblers give the lie to their aſſertions. Many people never ſpeak in an unnatural voice, but when they are inſincere: the phraſes not correſponding with the dictates of the heart, have nothing to keep them in tune. In the courſe of an argument however, you may eaſily diſcover whether vanity or conviction[130] ſtimulates the diſputant, though his inflated countenance may be turned from you, and you may not ſee the geſtures which mark ſelf-ſufficiency. He ſtopped, and the ſpirit began.
I have wandered through the cave; and, as ſoon as I have taught you a uſeful leſſon, I ſhall take my flight where my tears will ceaſe to flow, and where mine eyes will no more be ſhocked with the ſight of guilt and ſorrow. Before many moons have changed, thou wilt enter, O mortal! into that world I have lately left. Liſten to my warning voice, and truſt not too much to the goodneſs which I perceive reſides in thy breaſt. Let it be reined in by principles, leſt thy very virtue ſharpen the ſting of remorſe, which as naturally follows diſorder in the moral world, as pain attends on intemperance in the[131] phyſical. But my hiſtory will afford you more inſtruction than mere advice. Sageſtus concurred in opinion with her, obſerving that the ſenſes of children ſhould be the firſt object of improvement; then their paſſions worked on; and judgment the fruit, muſt be the acquirement of the being itſelf, when out of leading-ſtrings. The ſpirit bowed aſſent, and, without any further prelude, entered on her hiſtory.
My mother was a moſt reſpectable character, but ſhe was yoked to a man whoſe follies and vices made her ever feel the weight of her chains. The firſt ſenſation I recollect, was pity; for I have ſeen her weep over me and the reſt of her babes, lamenting that the extravagance of a father would throw us deſtitute on the world. But, though my father was extravagant, and ſeldom[132] thought of any thing but his own pleaſures, our education was not neglected. In ſolitude, this employment was my mother's only ſolace; and my father's pride made him procure us maſters; nay, ſometimes he was ſo gratified by our improvement, that he would embrace us with tenderneſs, and intreat my mother to forgive him, with marks of real contrition. But the affection his penitence gave riſe to, only ſerved to expoſe her to continual diſappointments, and keep hope alive merely to torment her. After a violent debauch he would let his beard grow, and the ſadneſs that reigned in the houſe I ſhall never forget; he was aſhamed to meet even the eyes of his children. This is ſo contrary to the nature of things, it gave me exquiſite pain; I uſed, at thoſe times, to ſhow him extreme reſpect. I[133] could not bear to ſee my parent humble himſelf before me. However neither his conſtitution, nor fortune could long bear the conſtant waſte. He had, I have obſerved, a childiſh affection for his children, which was diſplayed in careſſes that gratified him for the moment, yet never reſtrained the headlong fury of his appetites; his momentary repentance wrung his heart, without influencing his conduct; and he died, leaving an encumbered wreck of a good eſtate.
As we had always lived in ſplendid poverty, rather than in affluence, the ſhock was not ſo great; and my mother repreſſed her anguiſh, and concealed ſome circumſtances, that ſhe might not ſhed a deſtructive mildew over the gaiety of youth.
So fondly did I doat on this dear pa[134]rent, that ſhe engroſſed all my tenderneſs; her ſorrows had knit me firmly to her, and my chief care was to give her proofs of affection. The gallantry that afforded my companions, the few young people my mother forced me to mix with, ſo much pleaſure, I deſpiſed; I wiſhed more to be loved than admired, for I could love. I adored virtue; and my imagination, chaſing a chimerical object, overlooked the common pleaſures of life; they were not ſufficient for my happineſs. A latent fire made me burn to riſe ſuperior to my contemporaries in wiſdom and virtue; and tears of joy and emulation filled my eyes when I read an account of a great action—I felt admiration, not aſtoniſhment.
My mother had two particular friends, who endeavoured to ſettle her affairs; one was a middle-aged man, a mer[135]chant; the human breaſt never enſhrined a more benevolent heart. His manners were rather rough, and he bluntly ſpoke his thoughts without obſerving the pain it gave; yet he poſſeſſed extreme tenderneſs, as far as his diſcernment went. Men do not make ſufficient diſtinction, ſaid ſhe, digreſſing from her ſtory to addreſs Sageſtus, between tenderneſs and ſenſibility.
To give the ſhorteſt definition of ſenſibility, replied the ſage, I ſhould ſay that it is the reſult of acute ſenſes, finely faſhioned nerves, which vibrate at the ſlighteſt touch, and convey ſuch clear intelligence to the brain, that it does not require to be arranged by the judgment. Such perſons inſtantly enter into the characters of others, and inſtinctively diſcern what will give pain to every human being; their own feelings are[136] ſo varied that they ſeem to contain in themſelves, not only all the paſſions of the ſpecies, but their various modifications. Exquiſite pain and pleaſure is their portion; nature wears for them a different aſpect than is diſplayed to common mortals. One moment it is a paradiſe; all is beautiful: a cloud ariſes, an emotion receives a ſudden damp; darkneſs invades the ſky, and the world is an unweeded garden;—but go on with your narrative, ſaid Sageſtus, recollecting himſelf.
She proceeded. The man I am deſcribing was humanity itſelf; but frequently he did not underſtand me; many of my feelings were not to be analyzed by his common ſenſe. His friendſhips, for he had many friends, gave him pleaſure unmixed with pain; his religion was coldly reaſonable, becauſe he want[137]ed fancy, and he did not feel the neceſſity of finding, or creating, a perfect object, to anſwer the one engraved on his heart: the ſketch there was faint. He went with the ſtream, and rather caught a character from the ſociety he lived in, than ſpread one around him. In my mind many opinions were graven with a pen of braſs, which he thought chimerical: but time could not eraſe them, and I now recognize them as the ſeeds of eternal happineſs: they will ſoon expand in thoſe realms where I ſhall enjoy the bliſs adapted to my nature; this is all we need aſk of the Supreme Being; happineſs muſt follow the completion of his deſigns. He however could live quietly, without giving a preponderancy to many important opinions that continually obtruded on my mind; not having an en[138]thuſiaſtic affection for his fellow creatures, he did them good, without ſuffering from their follies. He was particularly attached to me, and I felt for him all the affection of a daughter; often, when he had been intereſting himſelf to promote my welfare, have I lamented that he was not my father; lamented that the vices of mine had dried up one ſource of pure affection.
The other friend I have already alluded to, was of a very different character; greatneſs of mind, and thoſe combinations of feeling which are ſo difficult to deſcribe, raiſed him above the throng, that buſtle their hour out, lie down to ſleep, and are forgotten. But I ſhall ſoon ſee him, ſhe exclaimed, as much ſuperior to his former ſelf, as he then roſe in my eyes above his fellow creatures! As ſhe ſpoke, a glow[139] of delight animated each feature; her countenance appeared tranſparent; and ſhe ſilently anticipated the happineſs ſhe ſhould enjoy, when ſhe entered thoſe manſions, where death-divided friends ſhould meet, to part no more; where human weakneſs could not damp their bliſs, or poiſon the cup of joy that, on earth, drops from the lips as ſoon as taſted, or, if ſome daring mortal ſnatches a haſty draught, what was ſweet to the taſte becomes a root of bitterneſs.
He was unfortunate, had many cares to ſtruggle with, and I marked on his cheeks traces of the ſame ſorrows that ſunk my own. He was unhappy I ſay, and perhaps pity might firſt have awoke my tenderneſs; for, early in life, an artful woman worked on his compaſſionate ſoul, and he united his fate to a being made up of ſuch jarring ele[140]ments, that he was ſtill alone. The diſcovery did not extinguiſh that propenſity to love, a high ſenſe of virtue fed. I ſaw him ſick and unhappy, without a friend to ſooth the hours languor made heavy; often did I ſit a long winter's evening by his ſide, railing at the ſwift wings of time, and terming my love, humanity.
Two years paſſed in this manner, ſilently rooting my affection; and it might have continued calm, if a fever had not brought him to the very verge of the grave. Though ſtill deceived, I was miſerable that the cuſtoms of the world did not allow me to watch by him; when ſleep forſook his pillow, my wearied eyes were not cloſed, and my anxious ſpirit hovered round his bed. I ſaw him, before he had recovered his ſtrength; and, when his hand touched[141] mine, life almoſt retired, or flew to meet the touch. The firſt look found a ready way to my heart, and thrilled through every vein. We were left alone, and inſenſibly began to talk of the immortality of the ſoul; I declared that I could not live without this conviction. In the ardour of converſation he preſſed my hand to his heart; it reſted there a moment, and my emotions gave weight to my opinion, for the affection we felt was not of a periſhable nature.—A ſilence enſued, I know not how long; he then threw my hand from him, as if it had been a ſerpent; formally complained of the weather, and adverted to twenty other unintereſting ſubjects. Vain efforts! Our hearts had already ſpoken to each other.
Feebly did I afterwards combat an[142] affection, which ſeemed twiſted in every fibre of my heart. The world ſtood ſtill when I thought of him; it moved heavily at beſt, with one whoſe very conſtitution ſeemed to mark her out for miſery. But I will not dwell on the paſſion I too fondly nurſed. One only refuge had I on earth; I could not reſolutely deſolate the ſcene my fancy flew to, when worldly cares, when a knowledge of mankind, which my circumſtances forced on me, rendered every other inſipid. I was afraid of the unmarked vacuity of common life; yet, though I ſupinely indulged myſelf in fairy-land, when I ought to have been more actively employed, virtue was ſtill the firſt mover of my actions; ſhe dreſſed my love in ſuch enchanting colours, and ſpread the net I could never break. Our correſponding feelings confounded[143] our very ſouls; and in many converſations we almoſt intuitively diſcerned each other's ſentiments; the heart opened itſelf, not chilled by reſerve, nor afraid of miſconſtruction. But, if virtue inſpired love, love gave new energy to virtue, and abſorbed every ſelfiſh paſſion. Never did even a wiſh eſcape me, that my lover ſhould not fulfil the hard duties which fate had impoſed on him. I only diſſembled with him in one particular; I endeavoured to ſoften his wife's too conſpicuous follies, and extenuated her failings in an indirect manner. To this I was prompted by a loftineſs of ſpirit; I ſhould have broken the band of life, had I ceaſed to reſpect myſelf. But I will haſten to an important change in my circumſtances.
My mother, who had concealed the real ſtate of her affairs from me, was[144] now impelled to make me her confident, that I might aſſiſt to diſcharge her mighty debt of gratitude. The merchant, my more than father, had privately aſſiſted her: but a fatal civil-war reduced his large property to a bare competency; and an inflammation in his eyes, that aroſe from a cold he had caught at a wreck, which he watched during a ſtormy night to keep off the lawleſs colliers, almoſt deprived him of ſight. His life had been ſpent in ſociety, and he ſcarcely knew how to fill the void; for his ſpirit would not allow him to mix with his former equals as an humble companion; he who had been treated with uncommon reſpect, could not brook their inſulting pity. From the reſource of ſolitude, reading, the complaint in his eyes cut[145] him off, and he became our conſtant viſitor.
Actuated by the ſincereſt affection, I uſed to read to him, and he miſtook my tenderneſs for love. How could I undeceive him, when every circumſtance frowned on him! Too ſoon I found that I was his only comfort; I, who rejected his hand when fortune ſmiled, could not now ſecond her blow; and, in a moment of enthuſiaſtic gratitude and tender compaſſion, I offered him my hand.—It was received with pleaſure; tranſport was not made for his ſoul; nor did he diſcover that nature had ſeparated us, by making me alive to ſuch different ſenſations. My mother was to live with us, and I dwelt on this circumſtance to baniſh cruel recollections, when the bent bow returned to its former ſtate.
[146] With a burſting heart and a firm voice, I named the day when I was to ſeal my promiſe. It came, in ſpite of my regret; I had been previouſly preparing myſelf for the awful ceremony, and anſwered the ſolemn queſtion with a reſolute tone, that would ſilence the dictates of my heart; it was a forced, unvaried one; had nature modulated it, my ſecret would have eſcaped. My active ſpirit was painfully on the watch to repreſs every tender emotion. The joy in my venerable parent's countenance, the tenderneſs of my huſband, as he conducted me home, for I really had a ſincere affection for him, the gratulations of my mind, when I thought that this ſacrifice was heroic, all tended to deceive me; but the joy of victory over the reſigned, pallid look of my lover, haunted my imagination, and[147] fixed itſelf in the centre of my brain.—Still I imagined, that his ſpirit was near me, that he only felt ſorrow for my loſs, and without complaint reſigned me to my duty.
I was left alone a moment; my two elbows reſted on a table to ſupport my chin. Ten thouſand thoughts darted with aſtoniſhing velocity through my mind. My eyes were dry; I was on the brink of madneſs. At this moment a ſtrange aſſociation was made by my imagination; I thought of Gallileo, who when he left the inquiſition, looked upwards, and cried out, "Yet it moves." A ſhower of tears, like the refreſhing drops of heaven, relieved my parched ſockets; they fell diſregarded on the table; and, ſtamping with my foot, in an agony I exclaimed, "Yet I love." My huſband entered before I had calmed[148] theſe tumultuous emotions, and tenderly took my hand. I ſnatched it from him; grief and ſurpriſe were marked on his countenance; I haſtily ſtretched it out again. My heart ſmote me, and I removed the tranſient miſt by an unfeigned endeavour to pleaſe him.
A few months after, my mind grew calmer; and, if a treacherous imagination, if feelings many accidents revived, ſometimes plunged me into melancholy, I often repeated with ſteady conviction, that virtue was not an empty name, and that, in following the dictates of duty, I had not bidden adieu to content.
In the courſe of a few years, the dear object of my fondeſt affection, ſaid farewel, in dying accents. Thus left alone, my grief became dear; and I did not feel ſolitary, becauſe I thought[149] I might, without a crime, indulge a paſſion, that grew more ardent than ever when my imagination only preſented him to my view, and reſtored my former activity of ſoul which the late calm had rendered torpid. I ſeemed to find myſelf again, to find the eccentric warmth that gave me identity of character. Reaſon had governed my conduct, but could not change my nature; this voluptuous ſorrow was ſuperior to every gratification of ſenſe, and death more firmly united our hearts.
Alive to every human affection, I ſmoothed my mothers paſſage to eternity, and ſo often gave my huſband ſincere proofs of affection, he never ſuppoſed that I was actuated by a more fervent attachment. My melancholy, my uneven ſpirits, he attributed to my extreme ſenſibility, and loved me the[150] better for poſſeſſing qualities he could not comprehend.
At the cloſe of a ſummer's day, ſome years after, I wandered with careleſs ſteps over a pathleſs common; various anxieties had rendered the hours which the ſun had enlightened heavy; ſober evening came on; I wiſhed to ſtill "my mind, and woo lone quiet in her ſilent walk." The ſcene accorded with my feelings; it was wild and grand; and the ſpreading twilight had almoſt confounded the diſtant ſea with the barren, blue hills that melted from my ſight. I ſat down on a riſing ground; the rays of the departing ſun illumined the horizon, but ſo indiſtinctly, that I anticipated their total extinction. The death of Nature led me to a ſtill more intereſting ſubject, that came home to my boſom, the death of him I loved.[151] A village-bell was tolling; I liſtened, and thought of the moment when I heard his interrupted breath, and felt the agonizing fear, that the ſame ſound would never more reach my ears, and that the intelligence glanced from my eyes, would no more be felt. The ſpoiler had ſeized his prey; the ſun was fled, what was this world to me! I wandered to another, where death and darkneſs could not enter; I purſued the ſun beyond the mountains, and the ſoul eſcaped from this vale of tears. My reflections were tinged with melancholy, but they were ſublime.—I graſped a mighty whole, and ſmiled on the king of terrors; the tie which bound me to my friends he could not break; the ſame myſterious knot united me to the ſource of all goodneſs and happineſs. I had ſeen the divinity re[152]flected in a face I loved; I had read immortal characters diſplayed on a human countenance, and forgot myſelf whilſt I gazed. I could not think of immortality, without recollecting the ecſtacy I felt, when my heart firſt whiſpered to me that I was beloved; and again did I feel the ſacred tie of mutual affection; fervently I prayed to the father of mercies; and rejoiced that he could ſee every turn of a heart, whoſe movements I could not perfectly underſtand. My paſſion ſeemed a pledge of immortality; I did not wiſh to hide it from the all-ſearching eye of heaven. Where indeed could I go from his preſence? and, whilſt it was dear to me, though darkneſs might reign during the night of life, joy would come when I awoke to life everlaſting.
I now turned my ſtep towards home,[153] when the appearance of a girl, who ſtood weeping on the common, attracted my attention. I accoſted her, and ſoon heard her ſimple tale; that her father was gone to ſea, and her mother ſick in bed. I followed her to their little dwelling, and relieved the ſick wretch. I then again ſought my own abode; but death did not now haunt my fancy. Contriving to give the poor creature I had left more effectual relief, I reached my own garden-gate very weary, and reſted on it.—Recollecting the turns of my mind during the walk, I exclaimed, Surely life may thus be enlivened by active benevolence, and the ſleep of death, like that I am now diſpoſed to fall into, may be ſweet!
My life was now unmarked by any extraordinary change, and a few days[154] ago I entered this cavern; for through it every mortal muſt paſs; and here I have diſcovered, that I neglected many opportunities of being uſeful, whilſt I foſtered a devouring flame. Remorſe has not reached me, becauſe I firmly adhered to my principles, and I have alſo diſcovered that I ſaw through a falſe medium. Worthy as the mortal was I adored, I ſhould not long have loved him with the ardour I did, had fate united us, and broken the deluſion the imagination ſo artfully wove. His virtues, as they now do, would have extorted my eſteem; but he who formed the human ſoul, only can fill it, and the chief happineſs of an immortal being muſt ariſe from the ſame ſource as its exiſtence. Earthly love leads to heavenly, and prepares us for a more ex[155]alted ſtate; if it does not change its nature, and deſtroy itſelf, by trampling on the virtue, that conſtitutes its eſſence, and allies us to the Deity.
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