Part 20

"The memory of the eyes, and this hope which suffices to my life, and more to my happiness, * * * reason and passion, love and nature, constrain me to fix my regard upon thee during the whole time given me. * * * Eyes serene and sparkling; he who lives not in you is not yet born!"

And again:

"It is to thee that it belongs to bring out from the coarse and rude bark within which my soul is imprisoned, that which has brought and linked together in my intelligence, reason strength, and love of the good." (_Mad._ 10.)

Then was renewed that sweet and pregnant security in which the soul, "under the armour of a conscience which feels its purity," may gain new energy and journey towards her repose:[61]

"Yes, sometimes, with my ardent desire, my hope may also ascend; it will not deceive me, for if all our affections are displeasing to heaven, to what end would this world have been created by God?

"And what cause more just of the love with which I burn for thee, than the duty of rendering glory to that eternal peace, whence springs the divine charm which emanates from thee, which makes every heart, worthy to comprehend thee, chaste and pious?

* * * * *

"Firm is the hope founded on a noble heart, the changes of the mortal bark strip no leaves from its crown; never does it languish, and even here it receives an assurance of heaven."--(_Sonnet_ 9.)

Now it is with accents of triumph and anon with the serener emotion of an immortal gratitude, that the poet exhibits the luminous ladder which his love assists him to mount, the support he finds in it when he descends again to the earth:

"The power of a beautiful countenance, the only joy I know on earth, urges me to the heaven, I rise, yet living, to the abode of elect souls--favour granted rarely to our mortal state!

"So perfect is the agreement of this divine work with its Creator, that I ascend to Him on the wings of this celestial fervour; and there I form all my thoughts, and purify all my words.

* * * * *

"In her beautiful eyes, from which mine cannot divert themselves, I behold the light, guide upon the way which leads to God;

* * * * *

"Thus, in my noble fire, calmly shines the felicity which smiles, eternal, in the heavens!--(_Sonnet_ 3.)

"With _your_ beautiful eyes I see the mild light which my darkened eyes could not discern. Your support enables me to bear a burden which my weary steps could not endure to the end."

* * * * *

"My thoughts are shaped in your heart; my words are born in your mind.

"With regard to you, I am like the orb of night in its career; our eyes can only perceive the portion on which the sun sheds his rays."--(_Sonnet_ 12.)

The admirable picture of indissoluble union in a settled tenderness, one of the most perfect pieces which has come from Angelo's pen, was sketched, doubtless, in one of those moments of severe and entire felicity:

"A refined love, a supreme affection, an equal fortune between two hearts, to whom joys and sorrows are in common,

because one single mind actuates them both;

"One soul in two bodies, raising both to heaven, and upon equal wings;

* * * * *

"To love the other always, and one's self never, to desire of Love no other prize than himself; to anticipate every hour the wishes with which the reciprocal empire regulates two existences:

"Such are the certain signs of an inviolable faith; shall disdain or anger dissolve such a tie?"--(_Sonnet_ 20.)

The last verse makes allusion to some incident of which we have been unable to find any historical explanation:

"Or potra _sdegno_ tanto nodo sciorre?"

But these ill-founded fears soon gave way to the presentiment of the cruel, the imminent trial, for which the poet's affection was reserved.

"Spirit born under happy auspices, to show us, in the chaste beauty of thy terrestrial envelope, all the gifts which nature and heaven can bestow on their favourite creation!"

* * * * *

"What inexorable law denies to this faithless world, to this mournful and fallacious life, the long possession of such a treasure? Why cannot death pardon so beautiful a work?"--(_Sonnet_ 25.)

The poet, however, already knew that such is the law, severe in appearance, but merciful in reality, which governs all things on this earth, "where nothing endures but tears."[62] It was then that Michel Angelo discovered in his heart that treasure of energy destined to sustain him in the multiplied trials of a life, of which he measured the probable length with a melancholy resignation.[63]

"Why," he exclaims, "grant to my wounded soul the vain solace of tears and groaning words, since heaven, which clothed a heart with bitterness, takes it away but late, and perhaps only in the tomb?"

"_Another_ must die. Why this haste to follow her? Will not the remembrance of her look soothe my last hours? And what other blessing would be worth so much as one of my sorrows?"[64]

In fine, armed with "the faith that raises souls[65] to God, and sweetens their death," Michel Angelo, when the fatal blow fell, was enabled to impart to his regrets an expression of thankfulness to the Supreme Dispenser of our destinies; and giving a voice from the tomb to her whom he had so deeply loved, he puts these sublime words into her mouth:

"I was a mortal, now I am an angel. The world knew me for a little space, and I possess heaven for ever. I rejoice at the glorious exchange, and exult over the death which struck, to lead me to eternal life!"--_Epitaffio_, v.

FOOTNOTES:

[50] "Dietro al mio legno, che cantando varca."--_Dante._

[51] Michel Angelo lived until the beginning of the year 1564, the seventieth after the death of Luigia de' Medici.

[52] In the Florentine style, 1474. The Florentine year began at Easter.

[53] Michel Angelo was the fourth and last of the sons of Ludovico.

[54] The Platonic Academy was established at Florence in 1474. Politiano's death, twenty years later, was the cause of its entire dispersion.

[55] "But, perhaps, thy compassion regards with more justice than I thought in the beginning, my pure and loyal ardour, and the passion which thy looks have kindled in me for noble actions.

"Oh, most happy day! if it ever arrive for me, let my days and hours concentrate themselves in that moment! and, to prolong it, let the sun forget his accustomed course!"

[56] He was born in 1475.

[57] The first sonnet of the collection; that commencing with the celebrated proposition--

"_Non ha l'ottimo artista alcun concetto._"

[58]

"Dal mortale al divin non vanno gli occhi Che sono infermi." * * * *

[59]

"Veggendo ne tuo' occhi il Paradiso, Per ritornar là dove io t'amai pria, Ricorro ardendo sotto le tue ciglia."

[60]

"Non so se e' _l'immaginata luce_ Del suo primo Fattor che l'alma sente, O se dalla memoria. * * * Alcuna altra bella nel cor traluce, * * * * * * * _Del tuo primiero stato il raggio ardente_ Di sè lasciando un non so che cocente." * * *

[61]

"La buona coscienza che l'uom franchigia, Sotto l'usbergo di sentirsi pura."--_Dante._

[62] "To what am I reserved?" writes Angelo in another piece. "To live long? that terrifies me. The shortest life is yet too long for the recompense obtained in serving with devotion."

[63] "Ahi, che null altro che pianto al mondo dura!"--_Petrarca._

[64] "_Ogni altro ben val men ch'una mia doglia!_"

[65]

* * * * "Chi t'ama con fede Si leva a Dio, e fa dolce la morte."

THINGS IN GENERAL.

A GOSSIPING LETTER FROM THE SEASIDE TO CHRISTOPHER NORTH, ESQ. BY AN OLD CONTRIBUTOR.

Near ----, England, _October 1846_.

MY DEAR CHRISTOPHER,--Where am I? What am I doing? Why have I forgotten you and Maga? Bless us! what a pother!--Give a man time, my revered friend, to answer: I have _not_ forgotten either you or Maga; I am at the seaside; and I am doing, as well as I can, _nothing_. There are your testy questions answered: and as to divers objurgatory observations of your's, I shall not attempt to reply to them--regarding them as the results of some gout-twinges which have, I fear, a little quickened and heated the temper of that "old man eloquent," who, when in good health, plays but one part--that of a caressing father towards his children; for as such Christopher North has ever (as far as I know) regarded his contributors. "Why don't you _review_ something or other? There's ----, an impudent knave!--has just sent me his ----: you will find it pleasant to flagellate him, or ----, a Cockney coxcomb! And if you be not in that humour, there are several excellent, and one or two admirable works, which have appeared within the last eighteen months, and which really have as strong a claim on Maga as she has on her truant sons,--and you, among the rest, have repeatedly promised to take one, at least, in hand. If you be not in the critical vein--do, for heaven's sake, turn your hand to something else--you have lain fallow long enough!--With one of the many articles which you have so often told me that you were 'seriously thinking of' on ----, or ----, or ----, &c., &c., &c.; and if _that_ won't do--why, rather than do _nothing_, set to work for an hour or two on a couple of mornings, and write me a gossiping sort of letter--such as I can print--such as you have once before done, and I printed,--on Things in General. Surely the last few months have witnessed events which must have set you, and all observant men, thinking, and thinking very earnestly. Set to work, be it only in a simple, natural, easy way--care not you, as I care not, how discursively--a little touch of modest egotism, even, I will forgive on this occasion, if you find that--" Here, dear Christopher, I recalcitrate, and decline printing the rest of the sentence; but as to "_Things in General_"--I am somewhat smitten with the suggestion. 'Tis a taking title--a roomy subject, in which one can flit about from gay to grave, from lively to severe, according to the humour of the moment; and since you really do not dislike the idea of an old contributor's gossip on men and things, given you in his own way, I shall forthwith begin to pour out my little thoughts as unreservedly as if you and I were sitting together alone here. _Here_; but where? As I said before, at the seaside; at my favourite resort--where (eschewing "Watering-places" with lively disgust) I have spent many a happy autumn. When I first found it out, I thought that the _lines_ had indeed _fallen_ to me in _pleasant places_, and I still think so; but were I to tell the public, through your pages, of this green spot, I suspect that by this time next year the sweet solitude and primitive simplicity of the scene around me would have vanished: greedy speculating builders, tempting the proprietors of the soil, would run up in all directions vile, pert, vulgar, brick-built, slate-roofed, Quakerish-looking abominations, exactly as a once lovely nook in the Isle of Wight--Ventnor to wit--has become a mere assemblage of eyesores, a mass of _un_favourable eruptions, so to speak--Bah! I once used to look forward to the Isle of Wight with springy satisfaction. Why, the infatuated inhabitants were lately talking of having a railroad in the island!!

I quitted Babylon, now nearly eleven weeks ago, for this said sweet mysterious solitude. London I dearly, dearly love--except during the months of August, September, and October, when it goes to sleep, and lies utterly torpid. When I quitted it very early in August, London life was, as it were, at dead-low water-mark. I was myself somewhat jaded with a year's severe exertion in my lawful calling, (what that may be, it concerns none of your readers to know,) and my family also were in want of change of air and scene; so that, when the day of departure had arrived, we were in the highest possible spirits. _Our_ house would--we reflected--within a few hours put on the dismal, dismantled appearance which almost every other house in the street had presented for several weeks, and we, whirling away to ----; but first of all it occurred to me to lay in a stock of our good friend Lee's port and sherry, (for where were we to get drinkable wine at ----?)--ditto, in respect of six pounds of real tea--not _quasi_ tea, _i.e._, raisin-stalks and sloe-leaves--three bottles of whisky; four of Anchovy sauce; and four of Reading or Harvey's sauce; two pounds of mustard, and some cayenne and curry-powder: having an eye, in respect of this last, to--hot crab! a delicious affair! Arrangements these which we are resolved always to make hereafter, having repeatedly experienced the inconvenience of not doing so. Having packed up every thing, and given special orders for the _Times_ to be provided daily, and the _Spectator_ weekly, away we go--myself, wife, three hostages to fortune, and three other persons, and--bless him!--Tickler; Timothy Tickler--that sagacious, quaint, affectionate, ugly-beautiful Skye terrier, which found its way to me from you, my revered friend--and is now lying gracefully near me, pretending--the little rogue--to be asleep; but really watching the wasps buzzing round him, and every now and then snapping at them furiously, unconscious of the probable consequences of his success,--that,

"If 'twere _done_, when 'tis done, _Then_--'twere well it were done quickly!"

By what railway we went, I care not to say--beyond this, that it belongs to one of that exceedingly select class, the well-conducted railways; and we were brought to the end of that portion of our journey--whether one hundred, two hundred, or two hundred and fifty, or three hundred miles, signifies nothing--safely and punctually arriving two minutes earlier than our appointed time. Then, by means of steam-boats, cars, and otherwise, _taliter processum est_, that about eight o'clock in the evening we reached this place, which, in the brilliant moonlight, looked even more beautiful than I had ever seen it. Near us on our left--that is, within a few hundred feet--was the placid silvery sea, "its moist lips kissing the shore," as Thomas Campbell expressed it; and while supper was preparing, we went to the shore to enjoy its loveliness. Not a breath of wind was stirring--scarce a cloud interfered with the moon's serene effulgence. Lofty cliffs stretched on either side of us as we faced the sea, casting a kindly gloom over part of the shore; and on turning towards the land, we beheld nothing but solemn groves of trees, and one sweet cottage peeping modestly from among them, as it were a pearl glistening half-hid between the folds of green velvet, about half-way up the fissure in the cliffs by which we had descended. Two or three fishing-boats were moored under the cliff, and against one of them was leaning the fisherman, not far from his snugly-sheltered hut, pleasantly puffing at his pipe. Near him lay extended on the shingle, grisly even in death, a monster--viz. a shark, the victim of the patience, pluck, and tact, which had been exhibited that afternoon by the fisherman and his son, who had captured the marine fiend in the bay, at less than two miles' distance from the shore. 'Twas nine feet in length, wanting one inch;--and _its_ teeth made your teeth chatter to look at them. Tickler inspected him narrowly, having first cautiously ascertained by his nose that all was right, and then exclaimed, "Bow, wow, wow!"--thus showing that even as a live ass is better than a dead lion, so a live terrier was better than a dead shark. [As I find that several of these hideous creatures have been lately captured here, _quære_ the propriety of bathing, as I had intended, from a boat, a little way of from the land? Hem!] The only visible occupants of those solitary sands at that moment were myself, my wife and children, the fisherman, Tickler, and the dead shark. I remained standing alone for a few moments after my companions had turned their steps towards our cottage, eager for supper, and gazed upon the sequestered loveliness around me with a sense of luxury. What a contrast this to the scene of exciting London life in which I had happened to bear a part on the preceding evening! The following verses of Lord Rosscommon happened to occur to me, and chimed in completely with the tone of my feelings:--

"Hail, sacred Solitude! from this calm bay I view the world's tempestuous sea; And with wise pride despise All those senseless vanities: With pity moved for others, cast away, On rocks of hopes and fears I see them toss'd, On rocks of folly and of vice I see them lost: Since the prevailing malice of the great Unhappy men, or adverse fate Sunk deep into the gulfs of an afflicted state: But more, far more, a numberless prodigious train, Whilst virtue counts them, but, alas, in vain. Fly from her kind embracing arms, Deaf to her fondest call, blind to her greatest charms, And sunk in pleasures and in brutish ease, They in their shipwrecked state themselves obdurate please.

* * * * *

Here may I always, on this downy grass, Unknown, unseen, my easy moments pass, Till, with a gentle force, victorious Death My solitude invade, And stopping for a while my breath, With ease convey me to a better shade!"

But a sharpened appetite for supper called me away, and I quickly followed my companions, casting a last glance around, and suppressing a faint sigh, fraught with the reflection, "All this--_Deo volente_--will be ours for nearly three months." Why _does_ one so often sigh on such an occasion?

You may conceive how we enjoyed our supper to the utmost, and then all of us retired to our respective apartments, which were so brilliantly lit by the moon, as to make our candles pale their ineffectual fires. I stood for a long time gazing at the beautiful scenery visible from my little dressing-room window, and then retired to rest, grateful to the Almighty for our being allowed the prospect of another of these periodical intervals of relaxation and enjoyment. To me they get more precious every year; _they do_, decidedly. But why? Let me, however, return to this question by-and-by: 'tis one which, with kindred subjects, has much occupied my thoughts this autumn, in many a long, solitary stroll over the hills, and along the seashore.

I wish I could do justice to my cottage and its lovely locality. Yet why should I try to set your's and your readers' teeth on edge? You have some lovely nooks on your Scottish coast; but you cannot beat this. We are about three hundred yards from the sea, of which our windows, on one side, command a full view; while from all the others are visible dark, high, steep downs, at so short a distance, that methinks, at this moment, I can hear the faint--the very faint--tinkle of a sheep-bell, proceeding from some of the little white tufts moving upon them. I am now writing to you towards the middle of this stormy October. Its winds have so much thinned the leaves of the huge elms which stand towards the south-eastern parts of our house, that I can now, from my study-window, distinctly see the church--very small, and very ancient--which, when first we came, the thick foliage rendered totally invisible from this point. My window looks directly upon the aforesaid downs, which at present appear somewhat gloomy and desolate. Yet have they a certain air of the wild picturesque, the effect of which is heightened by the howling winds, which are sweeping down over them to us, moaning and groaning through the trees, and round the gables of our house, (the aspect of the sky being, at the same time, bleak and threatening.) How it enhances my sense of snugness in the small antique, thoroughly wind-and-weather tight room in which I am writing! A little to my left is a vast natural hollow in the downs, from which springs a sort of little hanging wood or copse, the mottled variegated hues of which have a beautiful effect. Between me and the downs are small clumps of trees--abrupt little declivities, thickly lined with shrubs, all touched with the bronze tinting of the far-advanced autumn--two or three intensely-green fields, in the nearest of which are browsing the two cows belonging to the parsonage--which is, by the way, quite invisible from any part of my house, though at only a hundred yards' or two distance. Oh! 'tis a model--a love of a parsonage!--buried among lofty trees, richly adorned with myrtles, laurel, and clematis--the well-trimmed greensward immediately surrounding the long, low, thatched house, which combines rural elegance, simplicity, and comfort in its disposition--is bordered by spreading hydrangeas, dahlias, fuschias, mignionette, and roses--ay, roses, even yet in full bloom! Its occupant is my friend, a dignitary of the church, a scholar, a gentleman, and "given to hospitality;" but I will say nothing more on this head, lest, peradventure, I should offend his modesty, and disclose my locality. My own house is more than sufficient for my family; 'tis a small gentleman's cottage, delightfully situate, and containing every convenience, (especially for a _symposium_,) and surrounded by a luxuriant garden. Along one side of the house, and commanding an extensive and varied sea and land view, runs a little terrace of "soft, smooth-shaven green," made for a meditative man to pace up and down, as I have done some thousand times--by noonday sunlight, by midnight moonshine--buried in reverie, or charmed by contemplating the scenery around, disturbed by no sound save the caw! caw! caw! from the parsonage rookery, the _sough_ of the wind among the trees, and, latterly, the sullen echoes of the sea thundering on the shore. Ah! what an inexpressibly beautiful aspect is just given to the scene by that transient gleam of saddening sunlight!