LETTER XXX.

FREDERICK DOUGLAS TO ARTHUR HOWARD.

_Glenalta._

Dearest Arthur,

Our letters to and fro, seem all to have reached their several destinations in safety, and yours have truly been a rich resource this winter in our retirement. Little did I imagine when we parted, that you and I were likely to meet in a foreign territory before we shook hands once more at Glenalta; but this letter is actually to be your manifesto of full power to treat in my uncle’s name for all such accommodations as may suit his circumstances and the number of our party at Turin, whither you are directing your steps, you say, and where you may expect to see us all, Mr. Oliphant excepted, in two months, should no unforeseen interventions mar the present plan of proceeding.

How extraordinarily the most unlooked for events come round, and sometimes turn up the very thing that we most desire, and which seemed the least within our own power to accomplish!

My college course just finished, my degree taken, and the mind experiencing the _pains_ of liberty, not its _pleasures_, how delightful is this new direction of its activity! I cannot describe the feelings with which I paid my last accounts to Alma Mater, and took leave _for ever_ of a heap of books which now that I am not obliged to read, I dare say I shall never be likely to open again.

Well, man is surely a perfect enigma! _Venteroli_, _La Place_, _La Croix_, all those volumes with the red, blue, and yellow, covers, which when lying on my table you used to call my _parterre of tulips_, and at which I have often worked till my mind was reduced to a state of complete inanition, became objects of affection when the task was finished,--_not_ that I had any inclination to continue the toil, when the necessity for it had ceased; but I regretted the absence of that necessity, and sat mournfully gazing on those books which I had longed so often to lay upon the shelf. I felt exactly, I dare say, as a piece of clock-work would tell us that it does, were it able to speak, when the main spring, after being wound up to the utmost extremity of tension, is suddenly let go, and flies back with proportionate and painful velocity. In short, I know not how to express the collapsed, unstrung, nerveless condition of my mind, which I suppose was somewhat over wrought by study, and the repose for which I had so often sighed, had so little rest for me when it arrived, that I should gladly have preferred the labour of a coal porter to the relaxation which I had been anticipating with such impatience.

Doctor Evelyn is certainly right, when he says that every gratification to be truly felt, must be _earned_; and when I ceased to _earn_, I ceased to enjoy. All this egotism would be unpardonable if it were not necessary to your right understanding of my present gratitude for the delightful excitement in prospect.

Emily, Charlotte, Fanny, and I, have something new and stimulating to talk of, and our preparations for quitting home already occupy hands as well as heads. We build castles, lay plans, read books with reference to our _travels_, and, by-the-bye, Em. and I are so completely bitten by the idea of visiting the vallies of Piémont, that I prepare you now for being pressed into the service. We are longing, too, to be acquainted with your friend Falkland: and dear Phil. who has promised my poor uncle to accompany the party, writes to Stanhope to meet us at Turin with Mr. Oliphant, junior. So really it is quite an _embarras de richesses_, and I should be too happy were it not for a few counteracting circumstances which put a wholesome log about my neck, and restrain my buoyancy from breaking into any indecorous exuberance.

The first in magnitude of these, is my uncle’s state of health, which hangs a cloud over our spirits. He is so much beloved by us all, that to witness his decline, gentle and almost imperceptible as it is, gives the truest pain to every heart at Glenalta. For a long time after he arrived here, I resisted conviction, and could not believe that my dearest mother was not influenced by morbid melancholy in her forebodings; but she was too well skilled in every symptom of the disease to doubt its progress; and I grieve to say that every day adds testimony to the correctness of her predictions. Nothing immediate is to be dreaded, however, while so much bodily strength remains: but how sad it is to watch the increasing emaciation, and witness the gradual decay of one who is dear to your affections! You never saw a character so changed, or rather so developed under a new aspect, as that of our uncle. All appearance of harshness has subsided, every semblance of suspicion has given place to the kindest expression of trust and affection. The effects are painful as they are pleasing, as in learning to love we are taught to fear; and dread to lose what we have so lately known how to estimate in all its excellence.

In considering him, he suggests the analogy of a fine instrument of music that had been consigned to the cobwebs of neglect by the rude hands of some ferocious banditti, who, in their barbarous attempts to draw forth harmony, which refused to flow for them, crushed the sound-board and tore the strings, then flung the sweet cremona to the crowd, who knew nothing of its worth. Falling at length into the possession of one whose delicate ear recognizes its full perfections, the structure is repaired, the strings are tuned anew; and now the liquid tones are poured with generous freedom, to repay that skilful touch, that refined taste, which alone has power to unlock all its stores of melody. Such a musician is my mother, and the attachment with which she has inspired my uncle, is reflected on us all. Of you also dear Arthur he speaks as he ought to do; and I have pleasure in thinking, that when we meet, you will be loved by him, as you deserve to be by all who know you. Another grief is, that _Domine_ is not to accompany us. His enthusiasm in pursuit of knowledge, and the abundant store which he already possesses, so peculiarly qualify him for travelling with delight to himself and benefit to others, that it is cruelly vexatious to go without him. To see his younger brother also, to whom he is attached with paternal tenderness, would be a great indulgence. Yet all this he _insists_ on relinquishing, well aware, though my mother did not utter a syllable on the subject, that her mind was suffering a martyrdom at the idea of leaving Lawrence and all her poor people without some hostage in their hands, to give security of return, supply a channel of communication, disburse her weekly bounties, and watch over the old, the sick, the helpless, and forlorn. Even the assurance that Mr. Oliphant will remain at Glenalta, which is hailed as a blessing by the people, cannot prevent the bitterness of their lamentations; and these have such an effect in depressing the spirits of our little party, that I long till we are absolutely _under weigh_; I will not write again till we reach our journey’s end, as you may easily suppose how completely I shall be occupied in the interim.

The sisters will depend on me for shewing them every thing worth seeing as we go along, and I must try and not disappoint their expectations of my skill in quality of _cicerone_. Adieu. All unite in loves.

Ever your affectionate,

F. DOUGLAS.