Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 098.djvu/406

394 below the weight as of twenty Atlantics, or the burden of inexpiable guilt.

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!"

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!" Thrilling apostrophe of her for whose