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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75652-0.txt b/75652-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f51d903 --- /dev/null +++ b/75652-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1655 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75652 *** + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: "And I also shall go home." Page 31] + + + + THE + + OLD MAN'S HOME. + + + BY THE REV. WILLIAM ADAMS, M. A. + + AUTHOR OF "THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS," + AND "THE DISTANT HILLS," ETC. + + + With Engravings from Original Designs, + BY WEIR. + + + + NEW-YORK: + GENERAL PROT. EPISCOPAL S. S. UNION, + DANIEL DANA, Jr., AGENT, + Depository 20 John Street. + 1848. + + + + +--------------------------------------------------------------------- + +ENTERED according to act of Congress, in the year 1847, by JOHN W. +MITCHELL, (as TREASURER of the General Protestant Episcopal Sunday +School Union,) in the Office of the Clerk of the United States +District Court for the Southern District of New York. + +--------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + + TO + + JOHN ADAMS, + + Serjeant at Law, + + AS A MARK OF FILIAL GRATITUDE + + And Affection, + + THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED + + BY + + THE AUTHOR. + + + + + FOR THEY + + THAT SAY SUCH THINGS + + DECLARE PLAINLY + + THAT THEY SEEK A COUNTRY. + + HEB. xi, 14. + + + + +The Old Man's Home. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe, + Our hermit spirits dwell and range apart; + Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow-- + Hues of their own, fresh borrow'd from the heart + CHRISTIAN YEAR. + + +There is a scene on the coast of the Isle of Wight with which I have +long since become familiar, but which never fails to exercise a +soothing influence on my mind. It is at the eastern extremity of the +landslip. Large portions of the cliff have fallen away, and formed a +dell so broken and irregular, that the ground has the appearance of +having at one time been agitated by an earthquake. But Nature has +only suffered the convulsion to take place, in order that afterwards +she might bestow her gifts upon this favoured spot with a more +unsparing hand. The wild and picturesque character of the landscape +is now almost lost sight of in its richness and repose. The new soil +is protected from the storms of winter by the cliff from which it has +fallen, and, sloping towards the south, is open to the full warmth +and radiance of the sun. In consequence of this, the landslip has as +it were, a climate of its own; and often when the more exposed parts +of the country still look dreary and desolate, is in the enjoyment of +the blessings of an early spring. Such was the season at which I +first visited it. The grey fragments of rock which lay scattered on +the ground are almost hid by the luxuriance of the underwood, and +countless wild flowers were growing beneath their shade. Below, the +eye rested upon a little bay, formed by the gradual advance of the +sea; and all was so calm and peaceful, that as I watched the gentle +undulation of the waters, I could fancy them to be moving to and fro +with a stealthy step, lest they should disturb the tranquillity of +the scene. + +I have said that a visit to this favoured spot never fails with me to +have a soothing influence. I feel as though I were treading on +enchanted ground, and the whole scene were allegorical; for it +reminds me that, in like manner, the wreck of all our earthly hopes +and plans may but lay open our hearts to the influence of a warmer +sunshine, and enrich them with flowers which the storms of life have +no longer power to destroy. But I cannot now tell whether these +thoughts have their origin in the scene itself, or in an incident +that occurred the first time I visited it. + +It was on the evening of the 18th of April, 1843. I had been long +gazing upon it, and had imagined that I was alone, when my attention +was arrested by a sigh from some one near me. I turned round, and +saw a venerable old man seated upon a fragment of the fallen cliff, +beneath which the violets were very thickly clustering. His hair was +white as silver; his face deeply furrowed, and yet pervaded by a +general expression of childish simplicity, which formed a strong +contrast to the lines which must have been indented upon it by care +and suffering, no less than the lapse of years. I cannot recall the +words of the chance observation which I addressed to him; but it +related to the lateness and inclemency of the season, and I was at +once struck by the singularity of his reply: "Yes, yes," he said, +musingly, "the winter has indeed been very long and dreary; and yet +it has been gladdened, from time to time, by glimpses of the coming +spring." + +I now observed him more closely. There was a strangeness in his +dress which first excited my suspicion, and I fancied that I could +detect a restlessness in his light blue eye which spoke of a mind +that had gone astray. "Old man," I said, "you seem tired; have you +come from far?" + +"Ah, woe is me," he replied, in the same melancholy tone as before; +"I have indeed travelled a long and solitary journey; and at times I +am weary, very weary; but my resting-place now must be near at hand." + +"And whither, then," I asked, "are you going?" + +"Home, sir, home," he replied; and while his voice lost its sadness, +his face seemed to brighten and his eye grow steady at the thought; +"I hope and believe that I am going home." + +I now imagined that I had judged him hastily, and that the answers +which I had ascribed to a wandering intellect proceeded in truth from +depth of religious feeling. In order to ascertain this, I asked: +"Have you been long a traveller?" + +"Four score and thirteen years," he replied; and observing my look of +assumed wonder, he repeated a second time, more slowly and sadly than +before, "Four score and thirteen years." + +"The home," I said, "must be very far off that requires so long a +journey." + +"Nay, nay, kind sir, do not speak thus," he answered: "our home is +never far off; and I might perhaps have arrived at it years and years +ago. But often during the early spring I stopped to gather the +flowers that grew beneath my feet; and once I laid me down and fell +asleep upon the way. And so more than four score and thirteen years +have been wanted to bring me to the home which many reach in a few +days. Alas! all whom I love most dearly have long since passed me on +the road, and I am now left to finish my journey alone." + +During this reply, I had become altogether ashamed of my former +suspicion, and I now looked into the old man's face with a feeling of +reverence and love. The features were unchanged; but instead of the +childish expression which I had before observed, I believed them to +be brightened with the heavenliness of the second childhood, while +the restlessness of the light blue eye only spoke to me of an +imagination which loved to wander amid the treasures of the unseen +world. I purposely, however, continued the conversation under the +same metaphor as before. "You have not, then," I said, "been always +a solitary traveller?" + +"Ah, no," he replied: "for a few years a dear wife was walking step +by step at my side; and there were little children, too, who were +just beginning to follow us. And I was so happy then, that I +sometimes forgot we were but travellers, and fancied that I had found +a home. But my wife, sir, never forgot it. She would again and +again remind me that 'we must so live together in this life, that in +the world to come we might have life everlasting.' They are words +that I scarcely regarded at the time, but I love to repeat them now. +They speak to me of meeting her again at the end of our journey." + +"And have all your children left you?" I asked. + +"All, all," he replied. "My wife took them with her when she went +away. She stayed with me, sir, but six years, and left me on the +very day on which she came. It seems strange now that I could have +lived with them day after day without a thought that they were so +near their journey's end, while I should travel onward so many +winters alone. It is now sixty years since they all went home, and +have been waiting for me there. But, sir, I often think that the +time, which has seemed so long and dreary to me, has passed away like +a few short hours to them." + +"And are you sure, then," I said, "that they are all gone home?" It +was a thoughtless question, and I repented the words almost before +they were spoken. The tears rose quickly in the old man's eyes, and +his voice trembled with emotion, as he replied: "Oh! sir, do not bid +me doubt it. Surely, every one of them is gone home; one, at least, +of the number is undoubtedly there; and they all went away together, +as though they were travelling to the same place; besides, sir, my +wife was constantly speaking to them of their home; and would not +their journey as well as my own have been prolonged, if their home +had not been ready for them? And when I think of them, I always +think of home; am I not, then, right in believing that all of them +are there?" + +There were allusions in this answer which I did not at the time +understand; but the old man's grief was too sacred for me to intrude +further upon it. I felt, also, that any words of my own would be too +feeble to calm the agitation which my thoughtless observation had +caused. I merely repeated a passage from holy Scripture, in reply, +"Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord, even so saith the Spirit, +for they rest from their labours." + +The old man's face again brightened, and as he wiped away the tears, +he added, "And 'Blessed,' also, 'are they that mourn, for they shall +be comforted.' There is not only a blessing for those who have been +taken to their rest, but there is the image of that blessing to cheer +the old man who is left to pursue his solitary journey." + +At this moment, the sun, which had been obscured by a passing cloud, +suddenly shone forth, and its rays were reflected by a path of gold +in the silent waters. The old man pointed to it with a quiet smile; +the change was in such harmony with his own thoughts, that I do not +wonder at the metaphor it suggested to him. "There," said he, "is +the blessing of the mourner! See! how it shines down from the heaven +above, and gilds with its radiance the dreary sea of life." + +"True," I replied; "and the sea of life would be no longer dreary, if +it were not for the passing clouds which at times keep back from it +the light of Heaven." His immediate answer to this observation +proved the image which he had employed, to be one long familiar to +his own mind. "There are indeed clouds," he said, "but they are +never in Heaven; they hover very near the earth; and it is only +because our sight is so dim and indistinct that they seem to be in +the sky." + +A silence of some minutes followed this remark. I was, in truth, +anxious that the old man should pursue the metaphor farther. But the +gleam of light passed away as the sun sunk behind the western hills. +His feelings appeared to undergo a corresponding change, and he +exclaimed, hastily, "The day is fast drawing to a close; and the +night must be near at hand: I must hasten onward on my journey. +Come, kind sir, and I will show you where my friends are waiting for +me." + +I was wondering whether he now spoke metaphorically or not, when my +thoughts were suddenly turned into a new channel, and my former +painful suspicions returned. As the old man leant upon his staff, +his wrists became exposed to view, and I saw that they were marked +with deep blue lines, which could only have been caused by the +galling of a chain in former years. + +The poor wanderer observed the look I gave them. A sudden flush of +shame overspread his countenance, and he hurriedly drew down his +garment to conceal them. It was, however, but a momentary impulse; +he again exposed them to my view, and himself gazed sadly upon them, +as he said, "Why should I try to hide them, when they are left there +to remind me constantly of my true condition? For in times past I +have borne the pressure of more wearing bonds than those; and though +I have been released from them now, no one can tell how dark and deep +is the stain that they have left upon the soul." Something more he +added, but his eye was turned meekly towards Heaven, and it was only +from the movement of his lips that I fancied I could trace the words +of the prayer, "Though we be tied and bound with the chain of our +sins, yet let the pitifulness of Thy great mercy loose us." + +He now began to move slowly forward. The ground was rough and +uneven, and his step so very feeble, that I expected every instant to +see him fall. He struck his foot against a stone, and I sprang +forward to his assistance. "Thank you, kind sir," he said, in his +quiet way; "but do not fear for me; my own frail limbs could not +support me for an instant: but I have a staff on which I lean; and +though I may stumble at times, I cannot fall." + +Again I was in doubt whether to interpret his words literally or not; +but my belief was that the old man almost unconsciously used the +language of allegory. Long habit had so taught him to blend together +the seen and the unseen world, that he could not separate them. Life +was to him a mirror, and in the passing objects of sight and sense, +he never failed to recognise the images of spiritual things. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + So wanderers, ever fond and true, + Look homeward through the evening sky, + Without a streak of heaven's soft blue, + To aid affection's dreaming eye. + CHRISTIAN YEAR. + + +At the conclusion of the last chapter I gave the opinion that I +formed of the old man from the brief conversation I myself had with +him. The following incident cast, as it were, a shadow upon it, and +robbed it of its brightness, but did not really alter it. My +intercourse with him was brought to a sudden and painful conclusion. +It was at my persuasion that he crossed a stile which separated the +wild scenery of the landslip from the public road leading to the +little village of B----. I thought it would be easier for him to +walk along the more beaten track. He had yielded with apparent +reluctance to my request. His unwillingness appeared to proceed from +instinct rather than reason. It may in part have arisen from a kind +of natural sympathy which attracted him to that wild luxuriant spot; +in part from an unconscious dread of the danger to which he actually +became exposed. He simply said, "This smooth way was not made for +the like of me, kind sir; but under your protection I will venture +along it." + +Alas! I little thought of the kind of protection he required. We +had advanced but a few hundred yards, and had just reached the summit +of the hill which commanded the first view of the village church. +The old man had paused for a little while, and appeared to gaze upon +it with a feeling of the most intense interest; I was afraid, even by +a passing question, to interrupt the quiet current of his thoughts; +when the silence was suddenly broken by the creaking of a cart-wheel, +which grated harshly on my ear; and almost before I could look round, +I heard a voice of rude triumph behind me, crying out, "There he +is--there he is--there goes the old boy! Stop him, stop him, sir! he +is mad." + +I have no heart to describe the scene that followed: the poor +wanderer shuffled forward, with a nervous, hurried step; but in a few +seconds the cart was at his side; the driver immediately jumped out, +and, seizing him by the collar, with many a rude word and coarse +jest, tried to force him to enter it. For a moment, surprise and +indignation deprived me of speech, for I had began to regard the old +man with such a feeling of reverent love, that it almost seemed to me +like a profanation of holy ground. When, however, he turned his eyes +towards me, with an imploring look, I recovered myself sufficiently +to demand by what authority he dared thus molest an inoffensive +traveller on his journey. In my inmost heart, I dreaded the answer I +should probably receive; neither was my foreboding wrong; the man +laughed rudely as he replied, "He has been mad, quite mad, for more +than fifty years; he escaped this morning from the Asylum, and one of +the keepers has been with me all day long scouring the country in +search of him." + +It was in vain that I sought a pretext for disbelieving the truth of +the story. I could not help feeling that it did but confirm a +suspicion which, in spite of myself, had kept crossing my own mind; +for the bright colouring which was shed by faith on the thoughts and +words of the old man was not alone a sufficient evidence that they +were under the guidance of reason. Yet, of one thing, at least, I +felt sure, that, whatever were the state of his intellect, it could +be no imaginary cause that now so strongly moved him. My heart bled +for him, as I listened to the pathetic earnestness with which he +implored the protection that I was unable to afford. He even forgot +to use the language of metaphor in the agony of his grief. "Indeed, +indeed, sir," he said, "they call me mad, but do not believe them, +for I am not mad now. There, there," he added, pointing towards the +church, "my wife and children are waiting for me. It was on this +very day that they went away, and we have now been parted sixty +years. I have travelled very far to join them once again before I +die. Oh, have pity upon me! I only ask for one little half hour, +that I may go on in peace to the end of my journey." + +Large drops of moisture trembled on his forehead as he uttered these +words; his whole face became convulsed with emotion, and he clung +with such intensity to my garment, that his rude assailant tried in +vain to unloose his grasp. The man himself was evidently frightened +by the agitation which his own violence had caused, and appeared +doubtful how to proceed, when the scene was fortunately interrupted +by the arrival of his companion. + +He was the keeper who had been sent from the Asylum with the cart, +but had left it in order to search the pathway which led through the +landslip. His look and manner afforded a striking contrast to those +of the first comer, who proved to be merely the owner of the vehicle, +which had been hired for the occasion. Immediately on his arrival, +he reprimanded him for his rude treatment of the old man, and +insisted on his returning to the cart, and desisting from all farther +interference. My hopes were greatly raised by this, and I flattered +myself that I should now have little difficulty in obtaining for the +poor wanderer the indulgence which he sought. But I soon found my +mistake; and, under the irritated feelings of the moment, almost +preferred the rude conduct of the first comer to the quiet +determination with which his companion listened to my request. + +He merely smiled at the account I gave of my own interview with the +old man; and when I suggested that it contained no evidence of +insanity, shook his head, and replied, "You do not know poor Robin. +His notions about home are the peculiar feature of his madness; but +you are not the first person that has been deceived by them." + +He spoke in a low tone, as though he were anxious not to be +overheard. But the precaution seemed unnecessary; for, though the +old man had mechanically retained his grasp on my garments, he was +now looking eagerly towards the village church, and I could see, from +the expression of his countenance, that his thoughts had passed away +from the scene around him. + +When I found my arguments of no avail, I changed my ground, and +besought as a favour that he would make the trial of letting the old +man proceed to the end of his journey, and trust to his promise to +return quietly from thence. "Sir," he replied, in a louder voice, "I +should have no more hesitation in trusting the word of poor Robin +than your own. He never deceived me; and, under ordinary +circumstances, I would at once grant his request; but the hour is +late, and, as it is, the night will close in upon us before we can +get back to the town of N----. The responsibility will rest upon me, +if mischief should arise from any additional delay. I am sure Robin +himself would not desire it." As he said this, he turned towards the +old man, but his countenance was unchanged, his eye still fixed upon +the church, and he either had not heard the words at all, or they had +failed to convey any distinct impression to his mind. + +After a pause, I again renewed my entreaties, urging that it would at +least be a better plan than having recourse to violence, which must +eventually produce a far more serious delay. "Of course," said the +attendant, "anything is better than having recourse to violence." +"Then," said I, "you accede to my request?" "Only," replied he, with +a provoking smile, "in case all other methods fail; but as the delay +would be a real inconvenience to us, you must permit me first to try +my powers of persuasion. Let me now beg of you, whatever surprise +you may feel, to be careful to express none." He again lowered his +voice as he said these words, and, in spite of the dislike inspired +by the self-confidence of his manner, and of other stronger emotions, +my curiosity was excited to know how he would proceed. He placed +himself opposite to the old man, so as to intercept his view of the +village, and then, having fixed his eye calmly and stedfastly upon +him, with an appearance of real interest, thus soothingly addressed +him:--"I would gladly go on with you, Robin; but am sure you are +under some mistake. Your wife and children cannot be in yonder +village,--they are not there, they are at home. Come quietly with me +now, and perhaps this evening you may go home also." + +These simple words touched some hidden chord in the old man's heart, +and their effect was almost magical. All other feelings passed away, +and I forgot the presence of his companions, as I watched the change +which they produced. His features became composed, his hand relaxed +its hold, and his voice resumed its former tranquil tone, as he +slowly repeated: "They are not there, they are at home; they are not +there, they are at home. True, very true, they are not there, they +are at home." + +Presently he raised his eyes to Heaven, and the attendants, no less +than myself, were overawed by the solemnity of his manner. There was +a silence of a few seconds, during which he seemed to listen +intently; and then, as though he had heard some echo from above, +which confirmed the hope that had been held out to him, he +confidently added: "And I also shall go home,--and this very evening +I shall be there." + +While I was still pondering on these words, the old man had of his +own accord quietly placed himself in the cart, and his companions had +seated themselves by his side. They were on the point of driving off +before the thought occurred to me of offering him money. I drew out +my purse, half expecting him to refuse the proffered gift; and it was +with a strong feeling of disappointment that I observed the look of +satisfaction, almost amounting to eagerness, with which he took the +silver from my hand. I said within myself, "Can it be, then, that +the taint of covetousness is to be found in a mind from which every +earthly affection seems so entirely to have been withdrawn?" But I +wronged him by the thought. The money was immediately taken from +him, and he resigned it to another no less gladly than he had +received it from me. "It will not do," said the keeper, "to let him +have it himself: he will merely give it away to the first beggar that +he meets. He has not the slightest notion of the real value of +money. It shall be laid out for his benefit; and till then it will +be safe in my keeping." + +My countenance may have expressed dissatisfaction at the change, +though, in truth, I had no objection to make to it. But the old man +himself interrupted me before I could reply, and said, "Do not be +afraid, kind sir, whether it remain with me or him; your treasure +will be safe, quite safe; it matters not now whether it remain with +me or him;" and then added, in a more solemn tone, "safe 'where +neither rust nor moth doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break +through and steal.' I will take it home with me; and when you also +go home, you will find it there." And I now understood how it was +for my sake that he had so gladly welcomed the gift; and I thought, +too, that if in truth money had a real value at all, it must be the +one which was assigned to it by him. + +The men were in a hurry to depart, and I was now forced to bid adieu +to the old man. He appeared so sorry to leave me, that I promised on +the morrow to come and see him. I did not like to use the word +Asylum, so I said at his dwelling-place. The expression at once +caught his ear, and re-awakened the train of thought which my gift +had interrupted for a time. + +"Not in my dwelling-place," he said, "for to-morrow I shall not be +there. If you see me again, kind stranger, it must be at home. May +God bless you, and guide you on your way." The cart was already in +motion, but he looked back once more, and waved his hand as he said, +"Good bye, sir. Remember that we all are going home!" + +They were the last words I heard him speak, and it is perhaps from +that cause that they made so strong an impression on my mind; for +often since then, when I have been tempted to wander from the right +path, or murmur as I walked along it, I have thought upon the old +man's parting warning, and asked myself the question, "Am I not going +home?" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + Two worlds are ours: 'tis only Sin + Forbids us to descry + The mystic heaven and earth within, + Plain as the sea and sky. + CHRISTIAN YEAR. + + +Very early on the following morning I proceeded on foot to the town +of N----. The scenery through which I passed was rich and beautiful, +but it was lost upon me at the time; for there were busy thoughts +within which would not suffer my eye to rest on any external object. +I was on my way to visit the old man, and had a presentiment, almost +amounting to conviction, that I should not find him alive. The +words, "I also shall go home, and this very evening I shall be +there," in spite of myself, kept recurring to my mind. It was to no +purpose that I endeavoured to set them aside, as part of the +wanderings of a disordered intellect: there was a solemnity in the +look and manner of the poor wanderer, which gave a reality to their +meaning; and I believed the shadow of the future to have been resting +on his spirit at the time he spoke them. + +These fears gradually increased as I approached the Asylum. At the +entrance, there stood a little girl, weeping as though her heart +would break. A woman, who appeared to be her mother, was trying in +vain to comfort her. Her only reply to every caress, was a fresh +burst of sobs and tears. The scene was so in harmony with my own +thoughts, that the very instant I saw her, I guessed the cause of her +sorrow. Nor was my conjecture wrong: the child had dearly loved the +old man, and wept because he was no more. + +The father of this girl was the superintendent of the Asylum. He +also was standing by, and offered to accompany me through the +building. On the way, he proved very willing to gratify my curiosity +concerning the stranger who had excited in me so singular an +interest. I soon found him to be an intelligent, kind-hearted man, +who had entered instinctively into the thoughts and wishes of poor +Robin, and yet had failed to appreciate what I may call the religion +of his character. His daily familiarity with the varied forms of +insanity, may in part have been the cause. He had at once regarded +him as a patient labouring under a peculiar kind of mental delusion, +without looking beyond. In consequence of this, there was much in +our conversation which grated harshly on my own feelings. I loved +better to think of the old man as I had first seen him, sitting in +the midst of the picturesque scenery of the landslip, than confined +within the gloomy walls of a pauper Asylum. The close rooms through +which we passed, the dull tones of the superintendent's voice, his +conviction of poor Robin's insanity, and even the compassionate +interest with which he spoke of him, all interfered with the +brightness of the image which my own mind had previously formed. It +would have been more in harmony with my thoughts, to have heard from +the child who was weeping for him, the simple narrative of the old +man's life: but, perhaps, the contrast in the colouring of the +picture only brings out the more strongly its intrinsic beauty; and, +for this reason, I will still endeavour to trace it as it was first +presented to my own view. + +The outline is soon drawn. Poor Robin had, for more than half a +century, been an inmate of the Asylum. No one could tell from whence +he had been brought there, or say anything with certainty of his +previous history. It was, however, generally believed that he had +known better days, but that some very heavy affliction had brought on +mental derangement; and that, in consequence of this, his property +had gradually gone to ruin, until at length he was consigned to a +pauper asylum. He had been placed there under a very different +system of treatment from that which now prevails. It had even been +thought necessary, in the first instance, to confine him with chains +and handcuffs: and he would often struggle, in a paroxysm of passion, +to set himself free. But after a few years, all the more violent +symptoms of his disorder had entirely disappeared, and he became so +quiet and resigned, that the physician had considered it safe to +release him from his bonds, and suffer him to wander at large within +the precincts of the Asylum. + +"There can be no doubt of the facts, sir," continued my guide, "for +the marks on poor Robin's wrists prove him to have, at one time, +undergone a very rigorous confinement; and yet, when I came here, I +found that he had been long in the enjoyment of comparative freedom. +But it is a case that always perplexes me, when I think of it; for +the general effect of harsh treatment is to render the patient more +violent and intractable than before: and I cannot understand from +what cause the change in poor Robin's conduct could in the first +instance have arisen." + +"Do you not think," I asked, "that it may have been a sign of +returning reason?" He smiled at the question, as he replied, "So far +from it, sir, that it was accompanied by a new and extraordinary +delusion, which never afterwards entirely left him. He fancied that +the bonds which he felt and saw, were merely imaginary, and that +there were other invisible chains which were the real cause of his +confinement. They say, that from the time this idea once gained +possession of his mind, he made no farther effort to recover his +freedom, but even thanked the attendants for the care they were +taking of him, and became as gentle and submissive as a child." Then +I remembered the metaphor, which the old man had employed when the +marks on his wrists had attracted my attention; and I said within +myself that it was not indeed the return of reason, but a brighter +and a far holier light, which had thus shone on the poor captive, and +brought peace and resignation to his soul. + +After his partial release, the manners and language of Robin had soon +excited observation, and strengthened the belief that he must at one +time have known better days. It was not, however, till the milder +system of treatment was introduced generally into the Asylum, that +the full beauty of his character had developed itself. Since that +time, he had gradually won the affection of many of the patients, and +had become an object of deep interest to all visitors. They had +often come for the express purpose of talking with him. "And," +continued my conductor, "I often listened with wonder to the various +interpretations they put upon his answers. Some would discover in +them poetry; some, philosophy; some, religion; some, I know not what, +according to the previous bias of their own minds." I inquired in +what light he himself was disposed to view them? "As the wanderings +of insanity," he replied; "for poor Robin was, undoubtedly, mad:" but +presently added, more thoughtfully, "yet there was something in his +peculiar kind of madness which I could never exactly fathom." + +I asked, whether no friend or relative had come to inquire after the +old man, during the long period of his confinement? "No one," +answered my conductor; "and so far, it was a mercy that he had been +deprived of his reason, since his madness prevented his being aware +of his own solitary condition." + +"How do you mean?" I said; "surely he could not help feeling that he +was alone?" + +"On the contrary," he replied, "he fully believed that he had a wife +and children and home, and would speak, from day to day, of going to +join them. Poor fellow! at one time, those who had the care of him +would argue with him, and endeavour to explain to him that he was +under a delusion. And the old man would soon get confused in his +reasoning, and end by wringing his hands, in an agony of grief. But, +since I have come here, I have thought it best to humour him in the +belief; and not only forbidden all contradiction on this subject, but +encouraged the attendants to talk to him about his home, and promise, +that if he behaved well, he should go there very soon. You will +hardly believe that I have seen tears of joy run down his cheeks at +these simple words. Yet some have said, that it was almost cruel to +encourage a hope which must end in disappointment at last." + +"But did it end in disappointment?" I said, following my own +thoughts, rather than addressing my companion. He seemed struck by +the remark, and, after a pause, replied, "Why, sir, one can hardly +say that it did; for the hope seemed to grow stronger, instead of +weaker, as year after year passed by; and he continued in the same +happy delusion to the very hour of his death. I have often thought +that this imaginary home was a source of greater joy and comfort to +him than the possession of any actual home could have been. When +anything vexed or disturbed him, he would say, that when at home, he +should feel it no more. When he felt dull and depressed, he would +rouse himself by the thought that he was going home. I myself have, +at times, felt disposed to envy him his belief: and there was +something very wonderful in the influence it gave him over his +companions." + +I inquired, how this belief could influence others? "Because," said +he, "Robin was unable to separate the present from the future; and so +it was part of his confusion of ideas to believe that those with whom +he lived here, would live with him in his home also. It is the only +instance I have known of a person under the influence of insanity +being able to impart his own views to his companions. But there +seemed to be a kind of infection in the old man's madness; and more +than one patient, who had previously been plunged in hopeless +despondency, was gradually led to take interest in Robin's home. The +effect has been so salutary with us, that I have often wished the +same happy delusion could be introduced generally into other asylums." + +I was following the deep train of reflection awakened by this remark, +and wondering how far it might indeed be possible to graft religion +on the imagination, and so to soothe and cheer the dreams of insanity +with the hope of Heaven; when my conductor again resumed the +conversation. "There was, sir," he said, "another delusion of the +old man, scarcely less happy in its consequences than his belief +about his home. You might have fancied that, from having once known +better days, he would have felt bitterly the degradation of his new +condition; but the whole time that he was in the Asylum he seemed +utterly unconscious that he was dependent on the parish for support." + +"Do you mean," I asked, "that he imagined something had been +preserved from the wreck of his own property?" + +"Not in the least," he replied; "he was fully aware that his own +property was gone; but he believed his daily wants to be supplied by +a kind of miracle; and would often observe that he had gone on for +more than fifty years without making provision for the morrow, and +yet had never known what it was to be without clothing or food. Of +course, sir, I did everything in my power to encourage him in the +belief: but, one day, I was greatly annoyed to find a visitor, who +was not aware of the old man's peculiarities, endeavouring to explain +to him that the parish was bound to find him support." + +"And did he," I asked, "appear much hurt at the discovery?" + +"Fortunately not, sir," he replied; "and this I own quite took me by +surprise, for I greatly feared lest the consciousness of his +dependence might destroy that feeling of self-respect, which, in all +cases of insanity, it is so important to preserve. But Robin was +rather pleased than vexed at the idea of the parish providing for +him. Presently, however, he grew bewildered, and shook his head, and +said, that, after all, the parish could not provide for him beyond a +single day, and that, perhaps, to-morrow he might be at home. The +visitor was beginning to say something in reply; but Robin's home was +with me sacred ground, and I would not suffer the argument to proceed +further." + +Another pause of some minutes followed, until I broke it by inquiring +whether the child that I had observed at the entrance were related to +the old man. + +"Oh, no, sir," he replied, "little Annie is my own daughter, and many +persons have wondered that I suffered her to be so constantly with +him. But I consider the society of children to be very beneficial to +the insane; there is something in their ways and language which they +can understand far better than our own; and this was peculiarly the +case with poor Robin." + +"And do you suppose," I said, "that the child liked to be with him?" + +"Undoubtedly," he replied; "for the choice was her own. I merely +encouraged it. But Robin had an inexhaustible stock of fairy tales, +which made him a great favourite with children; and Annie would sit +and listen to them for hours together." + +"Do you really mean," I asked, in some surprise, "that they were +fairy tales?" + +"Why, sir, for that matter," he answered, "poor Robin himself +believed them to be true, and it was that which gave a peculiar +interest to his manner of telling them. Some visitors have fancied +them to be a kind of allegory; and I have often traced in the words a +double meaning, of which the old man himself could hardly have been +conscious. But, however this may have been, it is clear that they +were connected with his particular mental delusion, from the way in +which his imaginary home formed the prominent feature of every story." + +I expressed a wish to hear one of them, and yet was hardly sorry when +he confessed himself to be unable to comply with my request. He told +me that he had only heard them in detached portions, for the patients +in the Asylum were too numerous to allow him to devote as much time +to poor Robin as he might otherwise have done. "But, sir," he +continued, "little Annie knows them all by heart, though I am afraid +to-day she is feeling too deeply the loss of her companion to be able +to repeat one. There certainly was something very singular in her +fondness for the old man, and I have often been perplexed at the kind +of influence he had over her. She herself was sometimes a sufferer +from his delusions, and yet always fancied poor Robin must be in the +right, and would submit to his wishes without a murmur or complaint. +On one occasion, I myself felt called upon to interfere." + +I begged him to relate the circumstance to which he referred. + +"It was, sir," he said, "on Annie's ninth birth-day, in November +last. I had given her in the morning a new Victoria half-crown, and +she went immediately to exhibit her treasure to her friend. She +looked grave and thoughtful on her return; and, when I asked what +purchases she had made with her present, she confessed that the old +man had begged it of her, and she had given it him. The next day, I +told Robin how wrong he had been to take the poor child's money. But +he answered, with his usual strangeness, that he did not in the least +want it, and had asked for it because he loved little Annie, and +wished to do her a kindness. Now, most people would have thought +that this was rather a reason for giving her a present than for +taking one away. And yet the old man spoke the truth, for he knew no +better. It was one of his peculiarities to imagine that he was +conferring a favour whenever he received one." + +There was a passage from Holy Scripture which this answer suggested +to my mind. I remembered "the words of the Lord Jesus, how He said, +It is more blessed to give than to receive,"* and I repeated it +rather to myself than to my companion. The words, however, caught +his ear, and he observed that it was very likely I had hit upon the +truth; for the understanding texts of Scripture in their literal +meaning, was one feature of poor Robin's insanity. + + +* Acts xx. 35. + + +With a view to pursuing the subject farther, I inquired whether the +old man had restored the money. + +"No, sir," replied my guide; "and this is the most provoking part of +the story. I should not so much have minded if he had wished for it +as a keepsake from the child; but he said he had lent it to some +companion who had more need of it than himself. He did not even so +much as remember his name. I told him he had much better have given +it at once, as he had no chance of seeing it again. His own mind, +however, was perfectly at rest about it, and he assured me that it +was only lent, and would undoubtedly be restored, if not sooner, at +least when he went home. Of course, sir, when he touched upon his +home, I did not venture to press him farther. But this was another +of his delusions, which, though comparatively harmless while he was +staying here, must of itself have entirely unfitted him for the +management of his own affairs. He would lend all that he had to his +brother paupers, and, though no one ever thought of repaying him, was +just as happy as if the things remained in his own possession." + +And another passage of Holy Scripture rose to my remembrance, "He +that hath pity on the poor, lendeth unto the Lord; and look, what he +layeth out, it shall be paid him again." And I did not wonder that, +with so sure a promise, the mind of poor Robin should have been at +rest. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + Ever the richest, tenderest glow + Sets round th' autumnal sun-- + But there sight fails; no heart may know + The bliss when life is done. + CHRISTIAN YEAR. + + +I have reserved for a separate chapter that part of my conversation +within the walls of the Asylum, which led to a description of the +closing scene of the old man's life. I was still reluctant to admit +his insanity, for it seemed to me that he had only so fully realized +the presence of the unseen world, as to have forgotten altogether the +things of sight in the things of faith. I inquired, therefore, of my +companion, whether any more decided symptoms of madness had ever +exhibited themselves than those which he had already mentioned. He +appeared surprised at the question, but replied, that, though the old +man was always more or less under the influence of the disorder, +there undoubtedly were certain periodic returns of it, and that these +uniformly occurred at the commencement of spring. + +"And did these," I asked, "render him for the time violent and +intractable?" + +"Oh, no, sir," he answered; "ever since I have known him he has been +the same quiet and inoffensive creature, and his madness used rather +to assume a melancholy form. He became sad and dejected, and refused +to eat, and would pass whole days together in his own solitary cell. +On one occasion, my wife sent little Annie, in the hope that she +might cheer him; but he would not even admit the child; he told her +that his father was then with him, and that he would not talk to her. +I went myself when I heard this; but, upon opening the door, I found, +as I expected, that he was alone." + +"Perhaps," said I, "he may have meant that he was praying to his +Father in Heaven. + +"It is not unlikely," he replied; "for prayer was one way in which at +these seasons his madness most frequently exhibited itself. I mean," +he added, observing my look of surprise, "that he did not then pray +like other people, but would often remain whole hours together upon +his knees." + +And I remembered how the prophetess Anna was said to have served God +with fastings and prayers night and day, and how our blessed Lord +Himself had continued a whole night in prayer to God; but I made no +farther reply. + +"The doctor," resumed my conductor, "considered the long solitude to +be so bad for him, that for the last few days he had not suffered him +to remain in his cell. It was, perhaps, this circumstance which +turned the current of his thoughts into another channel, and led to +his wandering from the Asylum." + +I was not sorry to change the conversation, by inquiring how he had +contrived his escape. + +"Nay," he replied, "it is hardly fair to speak of it as an escape. +We were never very strict with the old man, and often suffered him to +go beyond the boundaries. On the present occasion, he had made no +secret of his intention, and told one of the attendants that he was +anxious to pay his wife and children a visit, and should soon be +back. I have no doubt myself that he intended to keep his word; but +he probably started, in the first instance, in a wrong direction, and +so lost his way." + +"What do you mean," I asked, "by his starting in a wrong direction? +I thought you were ignorant from what part of the island he had been +brought here." + +"True, sir," he replied; "but Robin himself always fancied that his +home lay towards the East: the little window of the cell he occupied +looked in that direction; and, though it was too cold for him in the +winter months, we never could persuade him to change it for one with +a southern aspect. He always said that he did not feel the cold, as +long as he could see his home. Now, there is nothing but a small +hamlet visible from the window, and, of course, when the old man did +not return, I sent to it to inquire after him." + +"And had he been there?" I said. + +"No, sir," he replied; "and, after wasting many hours in the search, +we at length heard that he had been seen walking along the road which +led direct to the Undercliff. It was this circumstance which enabled +him to get so many miles from the Asylum before he was overtaken. +But, as I said, I do not think that he intentionally misled us, but +only missed his way." + +Now I knew full well that the village of B---- was not the home of +which the old man had spoken; but, when I remembered the agony with +which he had implored to be allowed to proceed thither, I could not +believe that mere accident was the cause of his journey. I resolved +to return thither to prosecute my inquiries; but before I left the +Asylum, asked to see the room which poor Robin had occupied. + +"This is it, sir," said my conductor, as he threw open the door of a +low narrow cell. "You will find it smaller and more comfortless than +many others, but it is the one in which he was placed when he was +first brought here; and he had become so fond of his little window, +and the view towards the East, that it would have been a mistaken +kindness to force him to change it." + +I scarcely heard the words of apology, for I felt a sudden thrill as +I found myself ushered thus unexpectedly into the chamber of death. +The old man was lying upon his narrow bed, and a stream of light +through the open window fell upon his tranquil countenance. A single +glance was sufficient to tell me not only that he was indeed dead, +but that his end had been full of peace. There was no convulsion of +the features, and the first symptoms of decay had not yet appeared. +His eyes had been left unclosed, but the wandering light was no +longer there, and the smile which from time to time had been wont to +play across his lips, rested quietly upon them now. The one idea +that his look and posture alike conveyed to the mind was that of +perfect tranquillity and repose. I felt that his long journey had at +length been finished, and that the old man was at rest in his home. + +My companion also seemed for awhile absorbed in thought. He advanced +softly to the bedside, and it was not until, with a gentle hand, he +had closed the old man's eyes, that he broke the silence by +observing, "Ah, sir, morning after morning I have found him lying +thus, and gazing through the open window. His sight was gradually +becoming very weak from the glare of light, but he was unconscious of +it himself. And it was but yesterday he told me that in a little +while he should be no longer dazzled by the brightness of his home. +Poor fellow! when I came into the room a few hours since, and saw his +eyes so calm and motionless, though the full rays of the sun were +falling upon them, I knew that he must be dead, and could not help +thinking how singularly his words had come true." + +There was something in the tone of voice in which this description +was given, that proved the speaker to have some secret feeling of its +allegorical meaning, though he himself would probably have been +unable to define it. + +A Bible and Prayer-Book were lying on the table by the bedside. I +turned to the fly-leaf of the former, in the hope that I might at +least gather from it the poor wanderer's name. There was written in +it, "Susan Wakeling; the first gift of her husband, April 18th, +1776." And when I remembered the old man's great age, I conjectured +that the sacred volume must formerly have been his own wedding +present to his bride. I replaced it on the table, and it opened of +its own accord at the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. +The page was much worn, as though it had not only been often read, +but many tears had fallen upon it. My eye quickly rested on the +passage, "These all died in faith .... and confessed that they were +strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things +declare plainly that they seek a country. And, truly, if they had +been mindful of that country from whence they came out, they might +have had opportunity to have returned. But now they desire a better +country, that is, an Heavenly."* And while I read, it seemed as +though I had found the text to the old man's history. + + +* Heb. xi. 13-15. + + +Another smaller volume was near them, which proved to be the +Christian Year. My conductor told me that it was the gift of the +chaplain. For a moment I wondered at his choice, for I knew that it +contained much which poor Robin must have been unable to understand. +But the hymn for Septuagesima Sunday, and many others, were marked +with pencil. And as my eye glanced over them, my wonder ceased. +They were all in such perfect unison with the old man's own thoughts, +that, however faint may have been the image which they conveyed, they +could not have failed to exercise a soothing influence on his mind. + +I inquired whether the chaplain used to come often to see him. "Very +frequently," was the reply. "He took great interest in poor Robin, +and the old man was grateful for it." "It certainly was singular," +he added, thoughtfully, "that on his return yesterday evening, he +should have expressed so earnest a wish that the chaplain should be +sent for." + +"And did you refuse?" I asked. + +"Fortunately not, sir," he replied. "I hesitated at first, for it +was very late, and poor Robin was evidently much exhausted with the +fatigue and excitement of the day. But he became so anxious about +it, that my wife interceded for him, and told me she thought he would +go to sleep more quietly after he had been here. I well remember now +the peculiar emphasis with which the old man repeated her words, and +said, 'Yes, yes, I shall doubtless go to sleep more quietly after he +has been here.' It almost seemed as though he felt his end to be +near at hand." + +I begged to know what passed at his interview with the chaplain. My +companion, however, could give me no information as to the first part +of it, for the old man had desired to be left alone with him, and his +wish had been at once indulged. "But," he continued, "on our return +to the room, we found him looking more light and cheerful than we had +ever before seen him; and when I congratulated him, he said that it +was no wonder, for a very heavy burthen had been taken away. The +chaplain then told us that he proposed to administer to him the Holy +Communion, and invited my wife and myself to partake of it with him. +It is a point on which I have always felt doubtful, for persons in +the state of poor Robin must have very indistinct views of the real +nature of a sacrament. In this case the old man's own expression +proved it; for, as he joined in the chaplain's request, he told us +that he was going on a long journey, and might require the food to +support him on the way." + +"Nay," I could not help observing, "surely his journey lay through +the valley of the shadow of death, and he meant that his soul would +be refreshed on its passage by the body and blood of Christ, even as +the body is by bread and wine." + +My companion shook his head as he replied, "I believe, sir, Robin +used the words literally, but the chaplain took the same view of them +with yourself, and it was a point for him and not me to decide. +Certainly nothing could be more grave or attentive than the old man's +manner during the whole ceremony. And it may be that some glimmering +of returning reason was sent to prepare him for the approach of +death. Such cases are not of uncommon occurrence." + +I could not help thinking that, in spiritual things, poor Robin had +not needed its light; but I made no further reply; and my companion +resumed his narrative. + +"When the service was over, the old man merely squeezed the +chaplain's hand in parting, but did not speak to him. I also soon +afterwards went away, but my wife stayed for some time longer +watching by his bedside. He remained perfectly still and silent, +though his eyes were open. At length she asked him whether he did +not feel tired, and wish to go to sleep? And she tells me, that he +smiled like a little infant as he replied, 'Oh no, not at all tired; +for all that wearied me has been taken away.' And then, after a +pause, he added, 'But you may wish me good night now, for I shall be +asleep very soon;--and tell dear Annie I am going home.' He spoke in +so cheerful a tone, that my wife little thought they were his last +words, and she left him, as she fancied, to repose. But it was a +sleep from which he never woke again. Ah, sir," he continued, "it +seems a sad thing to die thus forsaken and alone; and yet, after all, +many who have kind friends and relatives round their sick beds might +envy poor Robin his peaceful end. He went off so quietly at last, +that those who slept in the room adjoining were not disturbed during +the night by the slightest sound. But early this morning, when I +came to inquire after him, he was lying just as you now see him, +quite dead!" + +The deep feeling with which these words were pronounced, convinced me +that he was no less touched than myself by the contemplation of the +outward tranquillity of the old man's death. But who can realize the +inward peace that must have been there when the body fell asleep, and +the soul was released from its long imprisonment, and carried by +angels on its Homeward journey! + +As we left the old man's room, I inquired whether there were many +besides little Annie who mourned his loss. A smile again crossed the +features of my companion, as he replied, "There were many of the +patients who loved him almost as dearly as the child herself, but I +can scarcely speak of them as mourners now. A report spread among +them this morning that Robin was going home; I cannot tell from what +quarter it arose, but when I came to them, they crowded round me to +know if it were true." + +"And did you," I asked, "then tell them that he was dead?" + +"Not in so many words," he replied. "I merely said that he was +already gone home, and that they must not expect to see him here +again. And more than one voice exclaimed in reply, 'Happy, happy +Robin, to be taken home!'" + +Still I observed that I had remarked on the countenance of many of +the patients an expression of sadness. + +"True," he answered, "for with them the transition of feeling from +joy to grief is very rapid. They are not, however, sorrowing for +poor Robin, but for themselves, because they have not been allowed to +accompany him. There were some, in the first instance, who were very +loud in their complaints; but I soothed them by saying that it was +right the old man should go first, because he had been here so long." +After a pause, he continued: "It is my own wish, as well as the +chaplain's, that many of them should attend the funeral, for I would +gladly pay this tribute of respect to Robin's memory. And yet I am +half reluctant to give way to it: the remembrance of the scene might +afterwards throw some gloom over the bright and happy notions which +they have now formed of his home." + +I replied, that it might be so; "and yet," I added, "they would find +in the thanksgivings and prayers of the Burial Service only the exact +echo of their own joy and sorrow." And as I said this, I could not +help feeling that the scene after the old man's death had been in +perfect harmony with his life, and that poor Robin was rightly +rejoiced over and rightly mourned. + +My account of my visit to the Asylum has already far exceeded the +limits which I had assigned it. And yet, at the risk of being +wearisome, I cannot refrain from adding one more fragment from my +conversation within its walls, before I proceed to the more pleasant +task that lies beyond. With a view to prosecuting my inquiries in +the village of B----, I asked my companion whether Robin had ever +dropped a hint of his former calling. + +"Oh yes, sir," was the reply; "he used to say that he had enlisted as +a soldier very early in life, and had at one time been made a +prisoner. I have seen the tears run down little Annie's cheeks at +the piteous tale he would tell of the way in which his enemies had +bound him hand and foot, and cast him into a dark and terrible +dungeon, from which he had hardly escaped with his life. But I +believe the whole story to have been imaginary, and it is one that I +have little difficulty in accounting for. He doubtless referred to +the hardships he had endured at the period of his first imprisonment +in the Asylum. No one can wonder that they should have taken so +strong a hold on his imagination." + +"Did he, then," I asked, "believe that his warfare had long been at +an end?" + +"No, sir," he replied. "And perhaps it would be more correct to say +that the treatment to which he had been exposed was the origin of his +delusion, than that it accounted for it. The idea that he was liable +to the attacks of some secret enemy, seems from that time to have +taken a fixed possession of his brain; and if any one assured him +that he never could be subjected to the same ill usage again, his +invariable answer was, that there was no safety for him except at +home. And then he would maintain that having once enlisted, he could +never cease to be a soldier, and talk of treacherous foes and long +watchings and doubtful conflicts. You would have imagined him, from +his conversation, to have been one who was fighting and struggling +all day long, instead of the quiet, inoffensive character that he +really was. But this, sir, was not all; he would fancy that every +one else was a soldier also. He almost persuaded little Annie that +she had enlisted in the same army with himself; and often made her +sad by talking of the enemies who surrounded her, and the service she +was required to perform." + +[Illustration: Page 76] + +I here interrupted him by asking whether the child had not been +baptized. He at once perceived the drift of the question, and +replied, "I know what you mean, sir,--she was then made the soldier +and servant of Christ." + +"Yes," I added, "and entered into a solemn engagement to fight +manfully under His banner, against sin, the world, and the Devil." + +"True," he answered; "and it is very curious that it was the old man +himself who first pointed out that passage in the Prayer-Book to me. +I remember it struck me at the time that his peculiar notions about +soldiers might, in some way, be connected with it. And I think it +far from improbable; for Robin's madness seemed principally to +consist in his regarding metaphors as realities, and realities as +metaphors. The difference between him and ourselves would be, that +he believed little Annie to be really a soldier, and not merely to be +called one in the Prayer-Book." + +I made no further reply, for my own thoughts grew perplexed, as I +tried to determine with myself what were truths and realities, and +what merely shadows and metaphors, of the things pertaining to our +present existence. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + Oh, bliss of child-like innocence, and love + Tried to old age! creative power to win, + And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove, + Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin. + CHRISTIAN YEAR. + + +The rooms of the Asylum were hot and close, and as the outer door +opened, it. was very pleasant to escape from them into the fresh, +open air. While we did so, my mind experienced a similar kind of +relief, as the plaintive accents of childhood broke in on my +prolonged conversation with the superintendent. + +In spite of the interest I took in his narrative itself, it was with +a feeling of oppression that I had listened to it; and there was +something very refreshing in the sudden change. The sounds which I +now heard proceeded from little Annie. She was standing on the +threshold, just as I had seen her when I entered, except that her +grief was of a less quiet character than before, and something of +impatience seemed to be mingled with it. + +"It is no use," said her mother, as we approached; "the poor child +will fret herself into a fever, and I cannot persuade her to come +away. She does nothing but beg and entreat to be allowed to see poor +Robin again. I really believe it will be the best way to take her to +his cell." + +"It must not be," replied her husband; "she has no idea of what death +really is; and the sight of the body would rill her mind with strange +fancies, and perhaps do her serious harm; for she herself is but a +poor weakly thing. You know I never refused her permission to visit +him while he was alive, but I cannot suffer it now." "It is +singular," he added, turning to me with a look of vexation, "that I +should have found less difficulty in quieting the complaints of all +the mourners for poor Robin within the Asylum, than in soothing the +grief of my own little girl. I do not like to treat her with +severity, and yet without it I see no hope of getting her away." + +All that I had heard of the child, inspired me with a lively +compassion for her; and I asked to be allowed to try my powers of +persuasion. Permission was readily granted; and I instinctively had +recourse to the old man's last message, as the easiest way of gaining +access to her heart. "Annie," I said, gently, "do you know where +your friend is gone?" The simple question checked her sobs, and she +looked timidly in my face, but made no reply. "Poor Annie!" I +continued; "and did he indeed leave you without telling you whither +he was going?" + +"Home, sir, home," she replied; and the accent, no less than the +words, recalled to my mind the childlike old man: "he often told me +that he was going home." + +"True," I replied; "and he is gone home now. Do you really wish to +see him again?" She was silent; but the look of affection that +beamed on every feature was a sufficient answer; so I continued: "And +if you do see him again, Annie, where will it be?" Her voice +faltered, as she repeated the words, "At home;" and she again burst +into tears. + +"Yes, Annie," I said, after a short pause, "you cannot see him here, +because he is gone away. He is now happy in the enjoyment of his +home, and you must wait till you can go to him there. But, perhaps, +your home is different from his. Is it so, Annie?" + +"Oh, no," she answered, with unexpected earnestness, "we are all +children of the same Father, and all travel to the same Home--that +is," she added, looking down, and colouring deeply, "if we are +careful to keep in the path that leads to it." + +"And what path is that, Annie?" + +"The path of trustful obedience, and quiet faith, and holy love," was +her immediate reply. + +I knew at once that the words were not her own, but that she spoke +from memory, and that I had accidentally led her to one of the old +man's allegories. I was anxious for my own sake to hear more of it, +and it seemed to me that it might be good for her own sorrow to turn +her thoughts for a little while into this channel; so I continued: +"And is it a pleasant path, Annie, that leads us home?" + +"It is an up-hill path," she said; "but, as we walk along it, we can, +if we will, awake soft notes of music beneath our feet, and there are +whispering winds to cheer us on our way." + +"And what, Annie," I asked, "do you mean by the soft music and the +whispering wind?" + +"The soft music is prayer," she replied, "and the whispering wind, +the Holy Spirit of God." + +"And can we," I said, "have the soft music without the whispering +wind? I mean, can we pray without the assistance of God's Holy +Spirit?" But there was no need for me to have explained the +question; the language of allegory was most familiar to the mind of +the child, and she had recourse to it in her reply. "No, sir," she +said, "for the spirit of harmony dwells in the breeze; and it is the +wind alone that gives life to the music, and bears it upward from +earth to Heaven." + +I cannot tell how far she realized the deep meaning of these words, +for I did not venture to examine her upon them. I was afraid lest I +should only render indistinct the image which they conveyed to her +mind, by touching the colours with an unskilful hand. + +Presently I resumed:--"It must, Annie, I think, be a pleasant path +along which the wind thus murmurs, and the music plays!" + +"It is a pleasant path," she replied, "and yet it is very thickly +covered with thorns." "But," she added, and from the smile which for +a moment lit up her countenance, it seemed as though this were the +metaphor which pleased her best, "they are all magic thorns; and if +we look upward to the clear, blue sky, and tread firmly upon them, +they keep changing into flowers." + +"And is there not another path," I said, venturing to guess at the +conclusion of the allegory, "which leads away from home, and along +which the flowers, as you tread upon them, keep changing into thorns?" + +But I was wrong in my conjecture, for she looked perplexed, and +replied, "I do not know, sir, about the other paths; the old man +never used to talk to me but of one." And I felt ashamed of my +question, as I said within myself, "Oh, happy child, to know as yet +but of one path; and happy teacher, to have so shared the innocency +of childhood as to have spoken to her but of one!" + +Presently, however, she continued, as though she observed my +confusion: "But, sir, he said there were flowers which grow by the +way-side. When the wind blows softly upon them they perfume the air; +and their fragrance is very sweet and pleasant to those who pass them +by; but if we stop to gather them, then they become magic flowers, +and keep changing into thorns. And do you know, sir, why it is so?" + +"Not exactly," I replied; "I should like you to explain it to me." + +"Because, sir," she said, "when we gather them, we stoop down, and +turn our eyes towards the earth, instead of gazing upward on the +clear, blue sky." + +"But, Annie," I observed, "you have not yet told me what are the +flowers which we gather, or the thorns on which we tread." + +"The thorns," she replied, "are the trials and afflictions which God +sends us; the flowers are the pleasures and amusements which we make +choice of for ourselves." + +"Then, Annie," I said, "the children who gather the magic flowers are +those who follow their own will, while those who tread upon the magic +thorns are such as submit themselves quietly to the will of God." + +Her countenance became grave, and I saw that she already guessed my +meaning. I thought her mind was now sufficiently prepared to allow +me to apply directly to her own case the old man's allegory; and it +seemed as though his spirit were resting upon me while I did so, and +I used almost unconsciously the language of metaphor. + +"Annie," I continued, "a very sharp and piercing thorn was but +yesterday placed in your path. Your foot is young and tender, and I +do not wonder that you should shrink from treading upon it." She +trembled violently at this direct allusion to her grief, and yet +looked anxiously in my face, as though she wished me to say more. My +own voice began to falter, and I could only add, "But, believe me, +your kind friend did not deceive you; the thorn of affliction lies on +the path homewards; and if you have but courage to walk quietly on, +there is none that with greater certainty will change into a flower. +Go, Annie, and awaken the soft music, and you will be cheered by the +whispering wind." + +One by one the tears trickled down her cheeks, as she turned to her +mother, and said, "Forgive me for my impatience; I am ready now, +dearest mother, to accompany you home; or I will go home directly +myself, and you shall follow me." She did not trust herself to pause +an instant, or make any further reply, but expressed her gratitude to +me by a look, and at once hastened away: and while she went, so vivid +was the impression which the allegory had made on my own mind, that +the wind which played with her garments seemed to possess some holy +charm, and I could fancy that I was listening to strains of music, in +the soft echo of her receding steps. + +The mother also was silent; but there was no mistaking the expression +of her countenance. The subdued smile on her lips, and the bright +tears that trembled in her eyes, as she raised them to Heaven, told +me that she was following the same solemn train of thought with +myself, and treasuring yet more deeply in her heart the sayings of +her child. + +There was a pause of some seconds, and the sound of little Annie's +footsteps had just died away, when the stillness was again broken by +her father's voice. "You were fortunate, sir," he said, "in leading +her to the story of the homeward path; many visitors have considered +it the most beautiful of all that the old man told. It was a great +favourite with the child. I have often heard her repeating detached +portions of it to herself, though I was not aware that she had found +in them so deep a meaning.--It is strange, very strange," he added, +thoughtfully, "for I cannot even now tell who could have explained +them to her. I also have often looked back with wonder on the +answers of the child. But there is a passage from Holy Scripture, +which seems to be their best interpreter, and they never fail to +recall it to my mind: "I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and +earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and +hast revealed them unto babes."* + + +* Luke x. 21. + + +Poor Annie! My conversation with her gave a ray of brightness to a +visit which otherwise had in it enough of gloom. Nor has this +feeling been in any way changed by the early death of the child. +There is still peace and joy in every thought connected with her, +though within a few months of my first visit to the Asylum little +Annie was laid in her quiet grave. She laboured but one short hour +in the vineyard, and then was taken to the same home with the old man +who had borne so long and so patiently all the burthen and heat of +the day. Yet my own heart was a witness that even her little hour of +labour had not been without its fruit. A romantic story was told +concerning the cause of her death. It was said that she had never +recovered the loss of her friend, but gradually pined away in +consequence of it, and at length died of a broken heart. But I +believed not the tale; for little Annie did not sorrow as those +without hope; and though, perhaps, the cord of affection, that united +her so closely to the old man, may have hastened her progress to the +home to which he was gone, I do not think that her bereavement was +the cause of her death. I had left her with the impression that she +was not long for this world. I cannot exactly describe from whence +this feeling arose. It was not merely because her cheek was wan, and +her complexion delicate, and her little heart seemed to beat with too +eager emotion for the frail prison in which it was confined; but +there was something in her voice, look, and manner, which kept +reminding me of the world of spirits; as though, in all her youth and +innocence, she were walking on its very borders, and her gentle form +might at any moment fade into the mist, and vanish from my view. + +The more I reflected on this, the more sure I became that little +Annie had lived her time, and that no sudden shock had broken +prematurely the thread of life. I thought that this assurance might +afford some comfort to her parents in their heavy affliction; for +Annie was an only daughter. But when I called upon them, the mother +alone was at home; and I soon found that she needed no consolation +which I could afford her. She had her own secret store of treasure +in every word that had fallen from her darling child. I shall never +forget the look with which she said to me, "Ah, sir, I understood +very little of her words while she was alive; but the moment she was +gone, it seemed as though a light was shining upon them from another +world, and I can read them plainly now." And then, after a pause, +she added, "Do you remember, sir, on the very day you were with us, +how she said, 'I will go home directly myself, and you shall follow +me?' I remembered it well; and she saw from my countenance that I +guessed her meaning. "Yes," she continued, as, in spite of every +effort to suppress it, the big tear rolled down her cheek, "it was in +order that her father and myself might learn to follow her, that +little Annie was taken Home. He too, sir, has become since then an +altered man." + +A silent pressure of the hand was my only reply, for I felt that the +afflicted mother had learnt more truly than I could teach her the +lesson which was to be gathered from the death of her child. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + Gently along the vale of tears + Lead me from Tabor's sunbright steep; + Let me not grudge a few short years + With thee toward Heaven to walk and weep. + + But, oh! most happy, should thy call, + Thy welcome call, at last be given-- + "Come, where thou long hast stor'd thy all! + Come, see thy place prepar'd in Heaven!" + CHRISTIAN YEAR. + + +The recollection of little Annie has made me wander from my story, +and I must now hasten to bring it to a conclusion. I left the +Asylum, pondering deeply on the things I had heard and seen. My +heart was sad within me; for I could not help giving way to a feeling +of compassionate sorrow as I thought of the old man's solitary lot. + +His past history seemed, indeed, to be lost in almost hopeless +oblivion. But I knew that he must have been crushed and broken down +by some terrible calamity in early youth; that he had been awakened +from the stupor which it produced to the stern reality of bonds and +chains, and then been doomed to a dull, unvaried captivity, not for +days, weeks, or months, but for a long period of more than fifty +years. Thus reason kept drawing a melancholy picture of one without +home, without friends, dependent on charity for his daily bread, +whose whole existence was a dreary void, with no employment to +beguile his thoughts, no hope to cheer him on his way. It needed +only the recollection of that peculiar solitude of mind, which is +almost the certain offspring of insanity, to complete its gloom. + +And yet, after all, it was my own infirmity which made me sad; for, +when I had strength to gaze on the same picture with the eye of +faith, bright and beautiful were the images that I saw. I then +perceived that he was not without home, for his home was in the land +of spirits beyond the grave; he was not without friends, for his wife +and children were waiting for him there; while he remained upon +earth, he was not dependent, for he felt his daily wants to be +supplied by a Father's care; he never, for a single instant, was +without occupation, for he had a long warfare to accomplish, a +distant journey to perform; and still less was he uncheered by the +blessing of hope, for he was able to rest in humble trust on his +Saviour's promise, and go on, day after day, laying up treasures for +himself, which neither moth nor rust could corrupt, nor thieves break +through and steal. Out of the loneliness caused by his affliction he +had created a new world for himself, or rather, he had been drawn by +it to live in that world which, though unseen, God has really created +for us all. And surely to him life could never have been dull and +unvaried, while he was able to trace the types and emblems of +spiritual things alike in the passing gleams of sunshine, and in the +dark shadows that rested upon his path! + +Mingled with these conflicting emotions, the question from time to +time arose in my mind, 'And was poor Robin really mad?' And again it +was only my own infirmity which caused me to shrink from the reply. +It is hard indeed to define madness; and the state of his intellect +probably varied from time to time. Thus it may have been almost +without a cloud when little Annie was his companion. So, also, +during my own brief interview with him, the stillness of the evening, +and the unison of his own thoughts with the surrounding scene, may +have breathed a soothing influence upon his mind. And yet when I +reflected calmly on that very interview, I felt that they were right +in not suffering the old man to travel alone along the journey of +life. + +His was the second childhood; simple, pure, and holy as the first, +and yet, in his case, no less than the first, requiring a protector's +care. He spoke and thought as a child, and children could understand +him; but the calm mirror of his mind quickly grew troubled in his +intercourse with men, and he then lost the power of explaining his +thoughts, or perhaps of himself distinguishing between the shadow and +the substance, the things of sight and the things of faith. Reason +had resigned her sway during the mental conflict which had been +caused by his calamities; and though peace and quietness had been +restored, she never had attained sufficient vigour to resume it +again. Nay more; it may be that her lamp was the more dim and +uncertain, on account of the brighter and clearer light which from +that time burned unceasingly in his soul. It is possible that he was +slow in observing the different shades of colour that passed across +earthly objects, because to his eye one unfading colour was resting +upon them all; and that his mere intellectual faculties remained weak +and palsied, because out of this very weakness he had been made +strong, and he was at all times conscious of the presence of a surer +support and a safer guide. + +And what matters it, if it were so? Why may we not revere poor +Robin, and love him, and learn from him, and yet not shrink from +acknowledging that his reason had gone astray? Surely there is no +one who would not gladly leave the hard, dull road of life, if only +they could wander with him along the same bright and happy paths! +There is no one who would not give the choicest gifts of reason twice +told, if only they could purchase for them the child-like faith of +that simple-hearted man! + +I was half sorry when my arrival at the village of B---- made me +change these silent meditations for the attempt to investigate the +old man's connexions and history. It was not, however, mere +curiosity that prompted me to do so. I was anxious, if it were +possible, to save him from a pauper's grave. For a long time my +inquiries were in vain. Some few, indeed, had heard of poor Robin, +for his fame, as I have said, had spread beyond the walls of the +Asylum; but the name of Wakeling was unknown to them; and they did +not believe he had ever been connected with the parish of B----. +They referred me, however, to the cottage of the oldest inhabitant of +the village. She was a widow, of very great age, having lived to see +four generations around her. A few years since, they said, she was +able to speak distinctly of events that had happened more than half a +century ago, but latterly her memory had become impaired. + +When I mentioned to her the name of Wakeling, the word at once +awakened some recollection of the past. She twice repeated it, and +added, almost mechanically, "Good and excellent people, sir, and very +kind to the poor." But when I questioned her as to their occupation +and history, and asked what had become of them, she shook her head, +as though the thread of memory had been broken off, and she was +unable to unite it again. + +As a last hope, I referred directly to the spring of 1783, and +inquired whether it had been marked by any particular occurrence. +"Ah, sir," she replied, "much of the past is now like a dream to me, +but that is a period which I never can forget." The tone of sadness +in which these words were uttered, proved some deep sorrow to be +connected with the remembrance of it; and on further questioning, I +learnt that it was a season in which an infectious fever had raged in +the village, and that whole families had been carried off by its +ravages: she herself had then been left an orphan. But though her +recollection of the illness itself seemed as vivid as though it had +occurred but yesterday, of the Wakelings she could say nothing with +distinctness. It may be that her mind was too absorbed with the +remembrance of her own grief to allow her to recur to that of others; +or it may be that, even at the time, in the general affliction the +loss of an individual, however grievous, had been scarcely noticed, +and soon forgotten. At length she seemed to grow weary of my +importunity, and said, "I cannot tell who may have lived, and who may +have died: you must go, sir, to the churchyard, and there you will +find the only certain history of that fatal spring." + +A new thought was suggested by these words, and I repaired thither in +the hope that I might find that information which I had sought in +vain from the living, among the silent records of the dead. + +The evening was now drawing on, and it was in truth the very hour at +which but yesterday I had parted from the old man. I was alone; and +as I trod, with a cautious reverence upon the green sod, there was no +sound to break the tranquillity of the scene, save the ripple of the +waters at the edge of the cliff on which the churchyard stood. Their +restless motion only made me feel the more deeply the stillness of +the hallowed ground itself; and I thought, that if the old man had +been with me, he might have found in it an apt emblem of the quiet +resting-place of the dead, lying on the very borders of the sea of +life, and yet untroubled by its murmuring and sheltered from its +storms. I was not long in discovering the object which I sought. +The rays of the setting sun at once directed me to a stone at the +eastern extremity of the churchyard. It was distinguished from those +around by a simple cross; but in spite of the soft light that was now +shed upon it, it was with difficulty that I deciphered the +inscription which it bore. For not only was the tomb itself thickly +covered with moss and weeds, but my own eye grew dim with tears, as +one by one the few sad words revealed to me the secret of the old +man's history. His restlessness during the spring, the object of his +last solitary journey, and parts of his conversation with myself, +which before had seemed obscure, were now fully explained. The +inscription was as follows:-- + + SACRED + TO THE MEMORY OF + SUSAN, WIFE OF ROBERT WAKELING, + WHO DIED + APRIL 18TH, 1783, AGED 28 YEARS. + ALSO OF THEIR CHILDREN, + ALICE, AGED 6 YEARS, HENRY, AGED 5 YEARS, + AND EDWARD, AN INFANT, + WHO SURVIVED HER ONLY A FEW DAYS. + + "I SHALL GO TO THEM + BUT THEY SHALL NOT RETURN TO ME." + 2 SAM. XII. 21 + + +There was room beneath the text from Holy Scripture for one name +more, and it was there that I added the words: + + ALSO OF ROBERT WAKELING, + WHO DIED + APRIL 18TH, 1843, AGED 93 YEARS. + + +They remain as a simple record that the old man was indeed united at +last, in body as well as spirit, to those whom he had so dearly +loved, and mourned so long. + + + + +[Transcriber's note: Odd and unusual spellings are as printed.] + + + + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75652 *** diff --git a/75652-h/75652-h.htm b/75652-h/75652-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb94fc0 --- /dev/null +++ b/75652-h/75652-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3136 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The old man's home, +by William Adams +</title> + +<style> + +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 85%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.capcenter { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + font-weight: normal; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center } + +img.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75652 ***</div> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-front"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt=""And I also shall go home." Page 31"> +<br> +"And I also shall go home." <a href="#p31">Page 31</a> +</p> + +<h1> +<br><br> + THE<br> + OLD MAN'S HOME.<br> +</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + BY THE REV. WILLIAM ADAMS, M. A.<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + AUTHOR OF "THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS,"<br> + AND "THE DISTANT HILLS," ETC.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + With Engravings from Original Designs,<br> + BY WEIR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + NEW-YORK:<br> + GENERAL PROT. EPISCOPAL S. S. UNION,<br> + DANIEL DANA, Jr., AGENT,<br> + Depository 20 John Street.<br> + 1848.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<hr> + +<p> +ENTERED according to act of Congress, in the year 1847, by +JOHN W. MITCHELL, (as TREASURER of the General Protestant +Episcopal Sunday School Union,) in the Office of the Clerk +of the United States District Court for the Southern District +of New York. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + TO<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + JOHN ADAMS,<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + Serjeant at Law,<br> +<br> + AS A MARK OF FILIAL GRATITUDE<br> +<br> + And Affection,<br> +<br> + THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED<br> +<br> + BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + THE AUTHOR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + FOR THEY<br> +<br> + THAT SAY SUCH THINGS<br> +<br> + DECLARE PLAINLY<br> +<br> + THAT THEY SEEK A COUNTRY.<br> +<br> + HEB. xi, 14.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2 gothic"> +The Old Man's Home. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER I. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe,<br> + Our hermit spirits dwell and range apart;<br> + Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow—<br> + Hues of their own, fresh borrow'd from the heart<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +There is a scene on the coast of the +Isle of Wight with which I have long +since become familiar, but which never +fails to exercise a soothing influence on +my mind. It is at the eastern +extremity of the landslip. Large portions +of the cliff have fallen away, and formed +a dell so broken and irregular, that the +ground has the appearance of having at +one time been agitated by an earthquake. +But Nature has only suffered the +convulsion to take place, in order that +afterwards she might bestow her gifts +upon this favoured spot with a more +unsparing hand. The wild and +picturesque character of the landscape is +now almost lost sight of in its richness +and repose. The new soil is protected +from the storms of winter by the cliff +from which it has fallen, and, sloping +towards the south, is open to the full +warmth and radiance of the sun. In +consequence of this, the landslip has +as it were, a climate of its own; and +often when the more exposed parts of +the country still look dreary and +desolate, is in the enjoyment of the +blessings of an early spring. Such +was the season at which I first visited it. +The grey fragments of rock which lay +scattered on the ground are almost hid +by the luxuriance of the underwood, +and countless wild flowers were +growing beneath their shade. Below, the +eye rested upon a little bay, formed by +the gradual advance of the sea; and +all was so calm and peaceful, that as I +watched the gentle undulation of the +waters, I could fancy them to be +moving to and fro with a stealthy step, +lest they should disturb the tranquillity +of the scene. +</p> + +<p> +I have said that a visit to this +favoured spot never fails with me to have +a soothing influence. I feel as though +I were treading on enchanted ground, +and the whole scene were allegorical; +for it reminds me that, in like manner, +the wreck of all our earthly hopes and +plans may but lay open our hearts to +the influence of a warmer sunshine, and +enrich them with flowers which the +storms of life have no longer power to +destroy. But I cannot now tell whether +these thoughts have their origin in the +scene itself, or in an incident that +occurred the first time I visited it. +</p> + +<p> +It was on the evening of the 18th of +April, 1843. I had been long gazing +upon it, and had imagined that I was +alone, when my attention was arrested +by a sigh from some one near me. I +turned round, and saw a venerable old +man seated upon a fragment of the +fallen cliff, beneath which the violets +were very thickly clustering. His hair +was white as silver; his face deeply +furrowed, and yet pervaded by a general +expression of childish simplicity, which +formed a strong contrast to the lines +which must have been indented upon it +by care and suffering, no less than the +lapse of years. I cannot recall the +words of the chance observation which +I addressed to him; but it related to the +lateness and inclemency of the season, +and I was at once struck by the singularity +of his reply: "Yes, yes," he said, +musingly, "the winter has indeed been +very long and dreary; and yet it has +been gladdened, from time to time, by +glimpses of the coming spring." +</p> + +<p> +I now observed him more closely. +There was a strangeness in his dress +which first excited my suspicion, and I +fancied that I could detect a restlessness +in his light blue eye which spoke +of a mind that had gone astray. "Old +man," I said, "you seem tired; have +you come from far?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, woe is me," he replied, in the +same melancholy tone as before; "I +have indeed travelled a long and solitary +journey; and at times I am weary, very +weary; but my resting-place now must +be near at hand." +</p> + +<p> +"And whither, then," I asked, "are you going?" +</p> + +<p> +"Home, sir, home," he replied; +and while his voice lost its sadness, +his face seemed to brighten and his +eye grow steady at the thought; "I +hope and believe that I am going home." +</p> + +<p> +I now imagined that I had judged +him hastily, and that the answers which +I had ascribed to a wandering intellect +proceeded in truth from depth of +religious feeling. In order to ascertain +this, I asked: "Have you been long +a traveller?" +</p> + +<p> +"Four score and thirteen years," he +replied; and observing my look of +assumed wonder, he repeated a second +time, more slowly and sadly than before, +"Four score and thirteen years." +</p> + +<p> +"The home," I said, "must be very +far off that requires so long a journey." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, nay, kind sir, do not speak +thus," he answered: "our home is never +far off; and I might perhaps have arrived +at it years and years ago. But often +during the early spring I stopped to +gather the flowers that grew beneath my +feet; and once I laid me down and fell +asleep upon the way. And so more than +four score and thirteen years have been +wanted to bring me to the home which +many reach in a few days. Alas! all +whom I love most dearly have long +since passed me on the road, and I am +now left to finish my journey alone." +</p> + +<p> +During this reply, I had become +altogether ashamed of my former suspicion, +and I now looked into the old man's +face with a feeling of reverence and +love. The features were unchanged; +but instead of the childish expression +which I had before observed, I believed +them to be brightened with the heavenliness +of the second childhood, while +the restlessness of the light blue eye +only spoke to me of an imagination +which loved to wander amid the treasures +of the unseen world. I purposely, +however, continued the conversation +under the same metaphor as before. +"You have not, then," I said, "been +always a solitary traveller?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, no," he replied: "for a few +years a dear wife was walking step by +step at my side; and there were little +children, too, who were just beginning +to follow us. And I was so happy then, +that I sometimes forgot we were but +travellers, and fancied that I had found +a home. But my wife, sir, never forgot +it. She would again and again remind +me that 'we must so live together in +this life, that in the world to come we +might have life everlasting.' They are +words that I scarcely regarded at the +time, but I love to repeat them now. +They speak to me of meeting her again +at the end of our journey." +</p> + +<p> +"And have all your children left +you?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"All, all," he replied. "My wife +took them with her when she went +away. She stayed with me, sir, +but six years, and left me on the +very day on which she came. It +seems strange now that I could have +lived with them day after day without +a thought that they were so near their +journey's end, while I should travel +onward so many winters alone. It is +now sixty years since they all went +home, and have been waiting for me +there. But, sir, I often think that the +time, which has seemed so long and +dreary to me, has passed away like a +few short hours to them." +</p> + +<p> +"And are you sure, then," I said, +"that they are all gone home?" It was +a thoughtless question, and I repented +the words almost before they were +spoken. The tears rose quickly in the +old man's eyes, and his voice trembled +with emotion, as he replied: "Oh! sir, +do not bid me doubt it. Surely, +every one of them is gone home; one, +at least, of the number is undoubtedly +there; and they all went away together, +as though they were travelling to the +same place; besides, sir, my wife was +constantly speaking to them of their +home; and would not their journey as +well as my own have been prolonged, +if their home had not been ready for +them? And when I think of them, I +always think of home; am I not, then, +right in believing that all of them are +there?" +</p> + +<p> +There were allusions in this answer +which I did not at the time understand; +but the old man's grief was too sacred +for me to intrude further upon it. I felt, +also, that any words of my own would +be too feeble to calm the agitation +which my thoughtless observation had +caused. I merely repeated a passage +from holy Scripture, in reply, "Blessed +are the dead that die in the Lord, even +so saith the Spirit, for they rest from +their labours." +</p> + +<p> +The old man's face again brightened, +and as he wiped away the tears, he +added, "And 'Blessed,' also, 'are they +that mourn, for they shall be comforted.' There +is not only a blessing for those +who have been taken to their rest, but +there is the image of that blessing to +cheer the old man who is left to pursue +his solitary journey." +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, the sun, which had +been obscured by a passing cloud, +suddenly shone forth, and its rays were +reflected by a path of gold in the silent +waters. The old man pointed to it +with a quiet smile; the change was in +such harmony with his own thoughts, +that I do not wonder at the metaphor +it suggested to him. "There," said +he, "is the blessing of the mourner! +See! how it shines down from the +heaven above, and gilds with its +radiance the dreary sea of life." +</p> + +<p> +"True," I replied; "and the sea of +life would be no longer dreary, if it +were not for the passing clouds which +at times keep back from it the light +of Heaven." His immediate answer +to this observation proved the image +which he had employed, to be one long +familiar to his own mind. "There +are indeed clouds," he said, "but they +are never in Heaven; they hover very +near the earth; and it is only because +our sight is so dim and indistinct that +they seem to be in the sky." +</p> + +<p> +A silence of some minutes followed +this remark. I was, in truth, anxious +that the old man should pursue the +metaphor farther. But the gleam of +light passed away as the sun sunk +behind the western hills. His feelings +appeared to undergo a corresponding +change, and he exclaimed, hastily, +"The day is fast drawing to a close; +and the night must be near at hand: +I must hasten onward on my journey. +Come, kind sir, and I will show you +where my friends are waiting for me." +</p> + +<p> +I was wondering whether he now +spoke metaphorically or not, when my +thoughts were suddenly turned into a +new channel, and my former painful +suspicions returned. As the old man +leant upon his staff, his wrists became +exposed to view, and I saw that they +were marked with deep blue lines, +which could only have been caused by +the galling of a chain in former years. +</p> + +<p> +The poor wanderer observed the +look I gave them. A sudden flush of +shame overspread his countenance, and +he hurriedly drew down his garment to +conceal them. It was, however, but a +momentary impulse; he again exposed +them to my view, and himself gazed +sadly upon them, as he said, "Why +should I try to hide them, when they +are left there to remind me constantly +of my true condition? For in times +past I have borne the pressure of more +wearing bonds than those; and though +I have been released from them now, +no one can tell how dark and deep is +the stain that they have left upon the +soul." Something more he added, but +his eye was turned meekly towards +Heaven, and it was only from the +movement of his lips that I fancied +I could trace the words of the prayer, +"Though we be tied and bound with +the chain of our sins, yet let the +pitifulness of Thy great mercy loose us." +</p> + +<p> +He now began to move slowly +forward. The ground was rough and +uneven, and his step so very feeble, +that I expected every instant to see +him fall. He struck his foot against +a stone, and I sprang forward to his +assistance. "Thank you, kind sir," he +said, in his quiet way; "but do not +fear for me; my own frail limbs could +not support me for an instant: but I +have a staff on which I lean; and +though I may stumble at times, I +cannot fall." +</p> + +<p> +Again I was in doubt whether to +interpret his words literally or not; +but my belief was that the old man +almost unconsciously used the +language of allegory. Long habit had +so taught him to blend together the +seen and the unseen world, that he +could not separate them. Life was +to him a mirror, and in the passing +objects of sight and sense, he never +failed to recognise the images of +spiritual things. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER II. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + So wanderers, ever fond and true,<br> + Look homeward through the evening sky,<br> + Without a streak of heaven's soft blue,<br> + To aid affection's dreaming eye.<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +At the conclusion of the last chapter I +gave the opinion that I formed of the +old man from the brief conversation I +myself had with him. The following +incident cast, as it were, a shadow upon +it, and robbed it of its brightness, but +did not really alter it. My intercourse +with him was brought to a sudden and +painful conclusion. It was at my +persuasion that he crossed a stile which +separated the wild scenery of the +landslip from the public road leading to the +little village of B——. I thought it +would be easier for him to walk along +the more beaten track. He had yielded +with apparent reluctance to my request. +His unwillingness appeared to proceed +from instinct rather than reason. It +may in part have arisen from a kind of +natural sympathy which attracted him +to that wild luxuriant spot; in part from +an unconscious dread of the danger to +which he actually became exposed. +He simply said, "This smooth way +was not made for the like of me, kind +sir; but under your protection I will +venture along it." +</p> + +<p> +Alas! I little thought of the kind of +protection he required. We had +advanced but a few hundred yards, and +had just reached the summit of the hill +which commanded the first view of the +village church. The old man had +paused for a little while, and appeared +to gaze upon it with a feeling of the +most intense interest; I was afraid, even +by a passing question, to interrupt the +quiet current of his thoughts; when +the silence was suddenly broken by the +creaking of a cart-wheel, which grated +harshly on my ear; and almost before +I could look round, I heard a voice of +rude triumph behind me, crying out, +"There he is—there he is—there goes +the old boy! Stop him, stop him, sir! he +is mad." +</p> + +<p> +I have no heart to describe the scene +that followed: the poor wanderer +shuffled forward, with a nervous, hurried +step; but in a few seconds the cart +was at his side; the driver immediately +jumped out, and, seizing him by the +collar, with many a rude word and +coarse jest, tried to force him to enter +it. For a moment, surprise and +indignation deprived me of speech, for I had +began to regard the old man with such +a feeling of reverent love, that it almost +seemed to me like a profanation of holy +ground. When, however, he turned his +eyes towards me, with an imploring +look, I recovered myself sufficiently to +demand by what authority he dared +thus molest an inoffensive traveller on +his journey. In my inmost heart, I +dreaded the answer I should probably +receive; neither was my foreboding +wrong; the man laughed rudely as he +replied, "He has been mad, quite mad, +for more than fifty years; he escaped +this morning from the Asylum, and one +of the keepers has been with me all +day long scouring the country in search +of him." +</p> + +<p> +It was in vain that I sought a pretext +for disbelieving the truth of the story. +I could not help feeling that it did but +confirm a suspicion which, in spite of +myself, had kept crossing my own +mind; for the bright colouring which +was shed by faith on the thoughts and +words of the old man was not alone a +sufficient evidence that they were under +the guidance of reason. Yet, of one +thing, at least, I felt sure, that, +whatever were the state of his intellect, it +could be no imaginary cause that now +so strongly moved him. My heart bled +for him, as I listened to the pathetic +earnestness with which he implored the +protection that I was unable to afford. +He even forgot to use the language +of metaphor in the agony of his grief. +"Indeed, indeed, sir," he said, "they +call me mad, but do not believe them, +for I am not mad now. There, there," +he added, pointing towards the church, +"my wife and children are waiting for +me. It was on this very day that they +went away, and we have now been +parted sixty years. I have travelled +very far to join them once again before +I die. Oh, have pity upon me! I only +ask for one little half hour, that I may +go on in peace to the end of my +journey." +</p> + +<p> +Large drops of moisture trembled on +his forehead as he uttered these words; +his whole face became convulsed with +emotion, and he clung with such +intensity to my garment, that his rude +assailant tried in vain to unloose his +grasp. The man himself was evidently +frightened by the agitation which his +own violence had caused, and appeared +doubtful how to proceed, when the +scene was fortunately interrupted by +the arrival of his companion. +</p> + +<p> +He was the keeper who had been +sent from the Asylum with the cart, but +had left it in order to search the +pathway which led through the landslip. +His look and manner afforded a striking +contrast to those of the first comer, +who proved to be merely the owner +of the vehicle, which had been hired +for the occasion. Immediately on his +arrival, he reprimanded him for his +rude treatment of the old man, and +insisted on his returning to the cart, +and desisting from all farther +interference. My hopes were greatly raised +by this, and I flattered myself that I +should now have little difficulty in +obtaining for the poor wanderer the +indulgence which he sought. But I +soon found my mistake; and, under +the irritated feelings of the moment, +almost preferred the rude conduct of +the first comer to the quiet determination +with which his companion listened +to my request. +</p> + +<p> +He merely smiled at the account I +gave of my own interview with the +old man; and when I suggested that +it contained no evidence of insanity, +shook his head, and replied, "You do +not know poor Robin. His notions +about home are the peculiar feature +of his madness; but you are not the +first person that has been deceived by +them." +</p> + +<p> +He spoke in a low tone, as though he +were anxious not to be overheard. But +the precaution seemed unnecessary; for, +though the old man had mechanically +retained his grasp on my garments, he +was now looking eagerly towards the +village church, and I could see, from +the expression of his countenance, that +his thoughts had passed away from the +scene around him. +</p> + +<p> +When I found my arguments of no +avail, I changed my ground, and +besought as a favour that he would make +the trial of letting the old man proceed +to the end of his journey, and trust to +his promise to return quietly from +thence. "Sir," he replied, in a louder +voice, "I should have no more hesitation +in trusting the word of poor Robin +than your own. He never deceived +me; and, under ordinary circumstances, +I would at once grant his request; but +the hour is late, and, as it is, the night +will close in upon us before we can +get back to the town of N——. The +responsibility will rest upon me, if +mischief should arise from any +additional delay. I am sure Robin himself +would not desire it." As he said this, +he turned towards the old man, but his +countenance was unchanged, his eye +still fixed upon the church, and he +either had not heard the words at all, +or they had failed to convey any +distinct impression to his mind. +</p> + +<p> +After a pause, I again renewed my +entreaties, urging that it would at least +be a better plan than having recourse +to violence, which must eventually +produce a far more serious delay. "Of +course," said the attendant, "anything +is better than having recourse to +violence." "Then," said I, "you accede +to my request?" "Only," replied he, +with a provoking smile, "in case all +other methods fail; but as the delay +would be a real inconvenience to us, +you must permit me first to try my +powers of persuasion. Let me now +beg of you, whatever surprise you may +feel, to be careful to express none." He +again lowered his voice as he said +these words, and, in spite of the dislike +inspired by the self-confidence of his +manner, and of other stronger emotions, +my curiosity was excited to know how +he would proceed. He placed himself +opposite to the old man, so as to +intercept his view of the village, and then, +having fixed his eye calmly and +stedfastly upon him, with an appearance of +real interest, thus soothingly addressed +him:—"I would gladly go on with you, +Robin; but am sure you are under some +mistake. Your wife and children cannot +be in yonder village,—they are not +there, they are at home. Come quietly +with me now, and perhaps this evening +you may go home also." +</p> + +<p> +These simple words touched some +hidden chord in the old man's heart, +and their effect was almost magical. +All other feelings passed away, and I +forgot the presence of his companions, +as I watched the change which they +produced. His features became +composed, his hand relaxed its hold, and +his voice resumed its former tranquil +tone, as he slowly repeated: "They +are not there, they are at home; they +are not there, they are at home. True, +very true, they are not there, they are +at home." +</p> + +<p> +<a id="p31"></a> +Presently he raised his eyes to +Heaven, and the attendants, no less than +myself, were overawed by the solemnity +of his manner. There was a silence of +a few seconds, during which he seemed +to listen intently; and then, as though +he had heard some echo from above, +which confirmed the hope that had +been held out to him, he confidently +added: "And I also shall go home,—and +this very evening I shall be there." +</p> + +<p> +While I was still pondering on these +words, the old man had of his own +accord quietly placed himself in the +cart, and his companions had seated +themselves by his side. They were +on the point of driving off before the +thought occurred to me of offering him +money. I drew out my purse, half +expecting him to refuse the proffered +gift; and it was with a strong feeling +of disappointment that I observed the +look of satisfaction, almost amounting +to eagerness, with which he took the +silver from my hand. I said within +myself, "Can it be, then, that the taint +of covetousness is to be found in a +mind from which every earthly +affection seems so entirely to have been +withdrawn?" But I wronged him by +the thought. The money was immediately +taken from him, and he resigned +it to another no less gladly than he had +received it from me. "It will not do," +said the keeper, "to let him have it +himself: he will merely give it away +to the first beggar that he meets. He +has not the slightest notion of the real +value of money. It shall be laid out +for his benefit; and till then it will be +safe in my keeping." +</p> + +<p> +My countenance may have expressed +dissatisfaction at the change, though, in +truth, I had no objection to make to it. +But the old man himself interrupted me +before I could reply, and said, "Do not +be afraid, kind sir, whether it remain +with me or him; your treasure will be +safe, quite safe; it matters not now +whether it remain with me or him;" +and then added, in a more solemn tone, +"safe 'where neither rust nor moth doth +corrupt, and where thieves do not break +through and steal.' I will take it home +with me; and when you also go home, +you will find it there." And I now +understood how it was for my sake that +he had so gladly welcomed the gift; +and I thought, too, that if in truth money +had a real value at all, it must be the +one which was assigned to it by him. +</p> + +<p> +The men were in a hurry to depart, +and I was now forced to bid adieu to +the old man. He appeared so sorry to +leave me, that I promised on the +morrow to come and see him. I did not +like to use the word Asylum, so I said +at his dwelling-place. The expression +at once caught his ear, and re-awakened +the train of thought which my gift had +interrupted for a time. +</p> + +<p> +"Not in my dwelling-place," he said, +"for to-morrow I shall not be there. If +you see me again, kind stranger, it must +be at home. May God bless you, and +guide you on your way." The cart was +already in motion, but he looked back +once more, and waved his hand as he +said, "Good bye, sir. Remember that +we all are going home!" +</p> + +<p> +They were the last words I heard +him speak, and it is perhaps from that +cause that they made so strong an +impression on my mind; for often since +then, when I have been tempted to +wander from the right path, or murmur +as I walked along it, I have thought +upon the old man's parting warning, +and asked myself the question, "Am +I not going home?" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER III. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Two worlds are ours: 'tis only Sin<br> + Forbids us to descry<br> + The mystic heaven and earth within,<br> + Plain as the sea and sky.<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Very early on the following morning +I proceeded on foot to the town of +N——. The scenery through which I +passed was rich and beautiful, but it +was lost upon me at the time; for there +were busy thoughts within which would +not suffer my eye to rest on any external +object. I was on my way to visit the +old man, and had a presentiment, almost +amounting to conviction, that I should +not find him alive. The words, "I also +shall go home, and this very evening +I shall be there," in spite of myself, +kept recurring to my mind. It was to +no purpose that I endeavoured to set +them aside, as part of the wanderings +of a disordered intellect: there was a +solemnity in the look and manner of the +poor wanderer, which gave a reality +to their meaning; and I believed the +shadow of the future to have been resting +on his spirit at the time he spoke +them. +</p> + +<p> +These fears gradually increased as +I approached the Asylum. At the +entrance, there stood a little girl, +weeping as though her heart would break. +A woman, who appeared to be her +mother, was trying in vain to comfort +her. Her only reply to every caress, +was a fresh burst of sobs and tears. +The scene was so in harmony with my +own thoughts, that the very instant I +saw her, I guessed the cause of her +sorrow. Nor was my conjecture wrong: +the child had dearly loved the old man, +and wept because he was no more. +</p> + +<p> +The father of this girl was the +superintendent of the Asylum. He also was +standing by, and offered to accompany +me through the building. On the way, +he proved very willing to gratify my +curiosity concerning the stranger who +had excited in me so singular an interest. +I soon found him to be an intelligent, +kind-hearted man, who had entered +instinctively into the thoughts and wishes +of poor Robin, and yet had failed to +appreciate what I may call the religion +of his character. His daily familiarity +with the varied forms of insanity, may +in part have been the cause. He had +at once regarded him as a patient +labouring under a peculiar kind of mental +delusion, without looking beyond. In +consequence of this, there was much in +our conversation which grated harshly +on my own feelings. I loved better to +think of the old man as I had first seen +him, sitting in the midst of the +picturesque scenery of the landslip, than +confined within the gloomy walls of +a pauper Asylum. The close rooms +through which we passed, the dull +tones of the superintendent's voice, his +conviction of poor Robin's insanity, and +even the compassionate interest with +which he spoke of him, all interfered +with the brightness of the image which +my own mind had previously formed. +It would have been more in harmony +with my thoughts, to have heard from +the child who was weeping for him, the +simple narrative of the old man's life: +but, perhaps, the contrast in the colouring +of the picture only brings out the +more strongly its intrinsic beauty; and, +for this reason, I will still endeavour to +trace it as it was first presented to my +own view. +</p> + +<p> +The outline is soon drawn. Poor +Robin had, for more than half a century, +been an inmate of the Asylum. No one +could tell from whence he had been +brought there, or say anything with +certainty of his previous history. It +was, however, generally believed that +he had known better days, but that +some very heavy affliction had brought +on mental derangement; and that, in +consequence of this, his property had +gradually gone to ruin, until at length +he was consigned to a pauper asylum. +He had been placed there under a very +different system of treatment from that +which now prevails. It had even been +thought necessary, in the first instance, +to confine him with chains and handcuffs: +and he would often struggle, in a +paroxysm of passion, to set himself free. +But after a few years, all the more +violent symptoms of his disorder had +entirely disappeared, and he became so +quiet and resigned, that the physician +had considered it safe to release him +from his bonds, and suffer him to wander +at large within the precincts of the +Asylum. +</p> + +<p> +"There can be no doubt of the facts, +sir," continued my guide, "for the +marks on poor Robin's wrists prove +him to have, at one time, undergone a +very rigorous confinement; and yet, +when I came here, I found that he had +been long in the enjoyment of comparative +freedom. But it is a case that +always perplexes me, when I think of +it; for the general effect of harsh +treatment is to render the patient more +violent and intractable than before: +and I cannot understand from what +cause the change in poor Robin's conduct +could in the first instance have +arisen." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you not think," I asked, "that +it may have been a sign of returning +reason?" He smiled at the question, +as he replied, "So far from it, sir, that it +was accompanied by a new and extraordinary +delusion, which never afterwards +entirely left him. He fancied +that the bonds which he felt and saw, +were merely imaginary, and that there +were other invisible chains which were +the real cause of his confinement. They +say, that from the time this idea once +gained possession of his mind, he made +no farther effort to recover his freedom, +but even thanked the attendants for the +care they were taking of him, and +became as gentle and submissive as a +child." Then I remembered the +metaphor, which the old man had employed +when the marks on his wrists had +attracted my attention; and I said +within myself that it was not indeed +the return of reason, but a brighter and +a far holier light, which had thus shone +on the poor captive, and brought peace +and resignation to his soul. +</p> + +<p> +After his partial release, the manners +and language of Robin had soon excited +observation, and strengthened the belief +that he must at one time have known +better days. It was not, however, till +the milder system of treatment was +introduced generally into the Asylum, +that the full beauty of his character had +developed itself. Since that time, he +had gradually won the affection of many +of the patients, and had become an +object of deep interest to all visitors. +They had often come for the express +purpose of talking with him. "And," +continued my conductor, "I often +listened with wonder to the various +interpretations they put upon his answers. +Some would discover in them poetry; +some, philosophy; some, religion; some, +I know not what, according to the +previous bias of their own minds." I +inquired in what light he himself was +disposed to view them? "As the +wanderings of insanity," he replied; "for +poor Robin was, undoubtedly, mad:" +but presently added, more thoughtfully, +"yet there was something in his peculiar +kind of madness which I could +never exactly fathom." +</p> + +<p> +I asked, whether no friend or relative +had come to inquire after the old man, +during the long period of his confinement? +"No one," answered my conductor; +"and so far, it was a mercy +that he had been deprived of his reason, +since his madness prevented his being +aware of his own solitary condition." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you mean?" I said; +"surely he could not help feeling that +he was alone?" +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary," he replied, "he +fully believed that he had a wife and +children and home, and would speak, +from day to day, of going to join them. +Poor fellow! at one time, those who +had the care of him would argue with +him, and endeavour to explain to him +that he was under a delusion. And the +old man would soon get confused in his +reasoning, and end by wringing his +hands, in an agony of grief. But, since +I have come here, I have thought it +best to humour him in the belief; and +not only forbidden all contradiction on +this subject, but encouraged the attendants +to talk to him about his home, and +promise, that if he behaved well, he +should go there very soon. You will +hardly believe that I have seen tears of +joy run down his cheeks at these simple +words. Yet some have said, that it was +almost cruel to encourage a hope which +must end in disappointment at last." +</p> + +<p> +"But did it end in disappointment?" +I said, following my own thoughts, +rather than addressing my companion. +He seemed struck by the remark, and, +after a pause, replied, "Why, sir, one +can hardly say that it did; for the hope +seemed to grow stronger, instead of +weaker, as year after year passed by; +and he continued in the same happy +delusion to the very hour of his death. +I have often thought that this imaginary +home was a source of greater joy and +comfort to him than the possession of +any actual home could have been. +When anything vexed or disturbed him, +he would say, that when at home, he +should feel it no more. When he felt +dull and depressed, he would rouse +himself by the thought that he was +going home. I myself have, at times, +felt disposed to envy him his belief: and +there was something very wonderful in +the influence it gave him over his companions." +</p> + +<p> +I inquired, how this belief could +influence others? "Because," said he, +"Robin was unable to separate the +present from the future; and so it was +part of his confusion of ideas to believe +that those with whom he lived here, +would live with him in his home also. +It is the only instance I have known of +a person under the influence of insanity +being able to impart his own views to +his companions. But there seemed to +be a kind of infection in the old man's +madness; and more than one patient, +who had previously been plunged in +hopeless despondency, was gradually +led to take interest in Robin's home. +The effect has been so salutary with +us, that I have often wished the same +happy delusion could be introduced +generally into other asylums." +</p> + +<p> +I was following the deep train of +reflection awakened by this remark, +and wondering how far it might indeed +be possible to graft religion on the +imagination, and so to soothe and cheer +the dreams of insanity with the hope +of Heaven; when my conductor again +resumed the conversation. "There +was, sir," he said, "another delusion +of the old man, scarcely less happy in +its consequences than his belief about +his home. You might have fancied +that, from having once known better +days, he would have felt bitterly the +degradation of his new condition; but +the whole time that he was in the +Asylum he seemed utterly unconscious +that he was dependent on the parish +for support." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean," I asked, "that he +imagined something had been preserved +from the wreck of his own property?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not in the least," he replied; "he +was fully aware that his own property +was gone; but he believed his daily +wants to be supplied by a kind of +miracle; and would often observe that +he had gone on for more than fifty years +without making provision for the morrow, +and yet had never known what it +was to be without clothing or food. Of +course, sir, I did everything in my +power to encourage him in the belief: +but, one day, I was greatly annoyed to +find a visitor, who was not aware of the +old man's peculiarities, endeavouring +to explain to him that the parish was +bound to find him support." +</p> + +<p> +"And did he," I asked, "appear +much hurt at the discovery?" +</p> + +<p> +"Fortunately not, sir," he replied; +"and this I own quite took me by +surprise, for I greatly feared lest the +consciousness of his dependence might +destroy that feeling of self-respect, +which, in all cases of insanity, it is +so important to preserve. But Robin +was rather pleased than vexed at the +idea of the parish providing for him. +Presently, however, he grew bewildered, +and shook his head, and said, +that, after all, the parish could not +provide for him beyond a single day, +and that, perhaps, to-morrow he might +be at home. The visitor was beginning +to say something in reply; but Robin's +home was with me sacred ground, and +I would not suffer the argument to +proceed further." +</p> + +<p> +Another pause of some minutes followed, +until I broke it by inquiring +whether the child that I had observed +at the entrance were related to the old man. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, sir," he replied, "little +Annie is my own daughter, and many +persons have wondered that I suffered +her to be so constantly with him. But +I consider the society of children to be +very beneficial to the insane; there is +something in their ways and language +which they can understand far better +than our own; and this was peculiarly +the case with poor Robin." +</p> + +<p> +"And do you suppose," I said, +"that the child liked to be with him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Undoubtedly," he replied; "for the +choice was her own. I merely encouraged +it. But Robin had an inexhaustible +stock of fairy tales, which made him +a great favourite with children; and +Annie would sit and listen to them for +hours together." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really mean," I asked, in +some surprise, "that they were fairy +tales?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, sir, for that matter," he +answered, "poor Robin himself believed +them to be true, and it was that which +gave a peculiar interest to his manner +of telling them. Some visitors have +fancied them to be a kind of allegory; +and I have often traced in the words +a double meaning, of which the old +man himself could hardly have been +conscious. But, however this may +have been, it is clear that they were +connected with his particular mental +delusion, from the way in which his +imaginary home formed the prominent +feature of every story." +</p> + +<p> +I expressed a wish to hear one of +them, and yet was hardly sorry when he +confessed himself to be unable to +comply with my request. He told me that +he had only heard them in detached +portions, for the patients in the Asylum +were too numerous to allow him to +devote as much time to poor Robin as he +might otherwise have done. "But, sir," +he continued, "little Annie knows them +all by heart, though I am afraid to-day +she is feeling too deeply the loss of +her companion to be able to repeat +one. There certainly was something +very singular in her fondness for the +old man, and I have often been +perplexed at the kind of influence he had +over her. She herself was sometimes +a sufferer from his delusions, and yet +always fancied poor Robin must be in +the right, and would submit to his +wishes without a murmur or complaint. +On one occasion, I myself felt called +upon to interfere." +</p> + +<p> +I begged him to relate the circumstance +to which he referred. +</p> + +<p> +"It was, sir," he said, "on Annie's +ninth birth-day, in November last. I +had given her in the morning a new +Victoria half-crown, and she went +immediately to exhibit her treasure to her +friend. She looked grave and thoughtful +on her return; and, when I asked +what purchases she had made with her +present, she confessed that the old man +had begged it of her, and she had given +it him. The next day, I told Robin +how wrong he had been to take the +poor child's money. But he answered, +with his usual strangeness, that he did +not in the least want it, and had asked +for it because he loved little Annie, and +wished to do her a kindness. Now, +most people would have thought that +this was rather a reason for giving her +a present than for taking one away. +And yet the old man spoke the truth, +for he knew no better. It was one +of his peculiarities to imagine that he +was conferring a favour whenever he +received one." +</p> + +<p> +There was a passage from Holy Scripture +which this answer suggested to my +mind. I remembered "the words of the +Lord Jesus, how He said, It is more +blessed to give than to receive,"* and +I repeated it rather to myself than to +my companion. The words, however, +caught his ear, and he observed that +it was very likely I had hit upon the +truth; for the understanding texts of +Scripture in their literal meaning, was +one feature of poor Robin's insanity. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Acts xx. 35. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +With a view to pursuing the subject +farther, I inquired whether the old man +had restored the money. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," replied my guide; "and +this is the most provoking part of the +story. I should not so much have +minded if he had wished for it as a +keepsake from the child; but he said +he had lent it to some companion who +had more need of it than himself. He +did not even so much as remember his +name. I told him he had much better +have given it at once, as he had no +chance of seeing it again. His own +mind, however, was perfectly at rest +about it, and he assured me that it was +only lent, and would undoubtedly be +restored, if not sooner, at least when he +went home. Of course, sir, when he +touched upon his home, I did not venture +to press him farther. But this was +another of his delusions, which, though +comparatively harmless while he was +staying here, must of itself have entirely +unfitted him for the management of his +own affairs. He would lend all that he +had to his brother paupers, and, though +no one ever thought of repaying him, +was just as happy as if the things +remained in his own possession." +</p> + +<p> +And another passage of Holy Scripture +rose to my remembrance, "He that +hath pity on the poor, lendeth unto the +Lord; and look, what he layeth out, +it shall be paid him again." And I +did not wonder that, with so sure a +promise, the mind of poor Robin should +have been at rest. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IV. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Ever the richest, tenderest glow<br> + Sets round th' autumnal sun—<br> + But there sight fails; no heart may know<br> + The bliss when life is done.<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +I have reserved for a separate chapter +that part of my conversation within the +walls of the Asylum, which led to a +description of the closing scene of the old +man's life. I was still reluctant to admit +his insanity, for it seemed to me that he +had only so fully realized the presence +of the unseen world, as to have forgotten +altogether the things of sight in the +things of faith. I inquired, therefore, +of my companion, whether any more +decided symptoms of madness had ever +exhibited themselves than those which +he had already mentioned. He appeared +surprised at the question, but +replied, that, though the old man was +always more or less under the influence +of the disorder, there undoubtedly were +certain periodic returns of it, and that +these uniformly occurred at the +commencement of spring. +</p> + +<p> +"And did these," I asked, "render +him for the time violent and intractable?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, sir," he answered; "ever +since I have known him he has been +the same quiet and inoffensive creature, +and his madness used rather to assume +a melancholy form. He became sad and +dejected, and refused to eat, and would +pass whole days together in his own +solitary cell. On one occasion, my wife +sent little Annie, in the hope that she +might cheer him; but he would not +even admit the child; he told her that +his father was then with him, and that +he would not talk to her. I went +myself when I heard this; but, upon +opening the door, I found, as I +expected, that he was alone." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps," said I, "he may have +meant that he was praying to his Father +in Heaven. +</p> + +<p> +"It is not unlikely," he replied; "for +prayer was one way in which at these +seasons his madness most frequently +exhibited itself. I mean," he added, +observing my look of surprise, "that +he did not then pray like other people, +but would often remain whole hours +together upon his knees." +</p> + +<p> +And I remembered how the prophetess +Anna was said to have served +God with fastings and prayers night +and day, and how our blessed Lord +Himself had continued a whole night in +prayer to God; but I made no farther +reply. +</p> + +<p> +"The doctor," resumed my conductor, +"considered the long solitude +to be so bad for him, that for the last +few days he had not suffered him to +remain in his cell. It was, perhaps, +this circumstance which turned the +current of his thoughts into another +channel, and led to his wandering from the +Asylum." +</p> + +<p> +I was not sorry to change the +conversation, by inquiring how he had +contrived his escape. +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," he replied, "it is hardly fair +to speak of it as an escape. We were +never very strict with the old man, and +often suffered him to go beyond the +boundaries. On the present occasion, +he had made no secret of his intention, +and told one of the attendants that he +was anxious to pay his wife and +children a visit, and should soon be back. +I have no doubt myself that he intended +to keep his word; but he probably +started, in the first instance, in a wrong +direction, and so lost his way." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean," I asked, "by +his starting in a wrong direction? I +thought you were ignorant from what +part of the island he had been brought +here." +</p> + +<p> +"True, sir," he replied; "but Robin +himself always fancied that his home +lay towards the East: the little window +of the cell he occupied looked in that +direction; and, though it was too cold +for him in the winter months, we never +could persuade him to change it for one +with a southern aspect. He always said +that he did not feel the cold, as long as +he could see his home. Now, there is +nothing but a small hamlet visible from +the window, and, of course, when the +old man did not return, I sent to it to +inquire after him." +</p> + +<p> +"And had he been there?" I said. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," he replied; "and, after +wasting many hours in the search, we +at length heard that he had been seen +walking along the road which led direct +to the Undercliff. It was this +circumstance which enabled him to get so +many miles from the Asylum before +he was overtaken. But, as I said, I do +not think that he intentionally misled +us, but only missed his way." +</p> + +<p> +Now I knew full well that the village +of B—— was not the home of which +the old man had spoken; but, when I +remembered the agony with which he +had implored to be allowed to proceed +thither, I could not believe that mere +accident was the cause of his journey. +I resolved to return thither to prosecute +my inquiries; but before I left the +Asylum, asked to see the room which poor +Robin had occupied. +</p> + +<p> +"This is it, sir," said my conductor, +as he threw open the door of a low +narrow cell. "You will find it smaller +and more comfortless than many others, +but it is the one in which he was placed +when he was first brought here; and he +had become so fond of his little window, +and the view towards the East, that it +would have been a mistaken kindness +to force him to change it." +</p> + +<p> +I scarcely heard the words of apology, +for I felt a sudden thrill as I found +myself ushered thus unexpectedly into the +chamber of death. The old man was +lying upon his narrow bed, and a stream +of light through the open window fell +upon his tranquil countenance. A single +glance was sufficient to tell me not only +that he was indeed dead, but that his +end had been full of peace. There was +no convulsion of the features, and the +first symptoms of decay had not yet +appeared. His eyes had been left +unclosed, but the wandering light was no +longer there, and the smile which from +time to time had been wont to play +across his lips, rested quietly upon them +now. The one idea that his look and +posture alike conveyed to the mind was +that of perfect tranquillity and repose. +I felt that his long journey had at length +been finished, and that the old man was +at rest in his home. +</p> + +<p> +My companion also seemed for awhile +absorbed in thought. He advanced +softly to the bedside, and it was not +until, with a gentle hand, he had closed +the old man's eyes, that he broke the +silence by observing, "Ah, sir, morning +after morning I have found him lying +thus, and gazing through the open +window. His sight was gradually becoming +very weak from the glare of light, but +he was unconscious of it himself. And +it was but yesterday he told me that in +a little while he should be no longer +dazzled by the brightness of his home. +Poor fellow! when I came into the room +a few hours since, and saw his eyes so +calm and motionless, though the full +rays of the sun were falling upon them, +I knew that he must be dead, and could +not help thinking how singularly his +words had come true." +</p> + +<p> +There was something in the tone of +voice in which this description was +given, that proved the speaker to have +some secret feeling of its allegorical +meaning, though he himself would +probably have been unable to define it. +</p> + +<p> +A Bible and Prayer-Book were lying +on the table by the bedside. I turned +to the fly-leaf of the former, in the hope +that I might at least gather from it the +poor wanderer's name. There was written +in it, "Susan Wakeling; the first +gift of her husband, April 18th, 1776." And +when I remembered the old man's +great age, I conjectured that the sacred +volume must formerly have been his +own wedding present to his bride. I +replaced it on the table, and it opened +of its own accord at the eleventh +chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. The +page was much worn, as though it had +not only been often read, but many tears +had fallen upon it. My eye quickly +rested on the passage, "These all died +in faith .... and confessed that they were +strangers and pilgrims on the earth. +For they that say such things declare +plainly that they seek a country. And, +truly, if they had been mindful of that +country from whence they came out, +they might have had opportunity to +have returned. But now they desire a +better country, that is, an Heavenly."* And +while I read, it seemed as though +I had found the text to the old man's +history. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Heb. xi. 13-15. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Another smaller volume was near +them, which proved to be the Christian +Year. My conductor told me that it +was the gift of the chaplain. For a +moment I wondered at his choice, for I +knew that it contained much which poor +Robin must have been unable to +understand. But the hymn for Septuagesima +Sunday, and many others, were marked +with pencil. And as my eye glanced +over them, my wonder ceased. They +were all in such perfect unison with the +old man's own thoughts, that, however +faint may have been the image which +they conveyed, they could not have +failed to exercise a soothing influence +on his mind. +</p> + +<p> +I inquired whether the chaplain used +to come often to see him. "Very +frequently," was the reply. "He took +great interest in poor Robin, and the +old man was grateful for it." "It +certainly was singular," he added, +thoughtfully, "that on his return yesterday +evening, he should have expressed so +earnest a wish that the chaplain should +be sent for." +</p> + +<p> +"And did you refuse?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Fortunately not, sir," he replied. +"I hesitated at first, for it was very +late, and poor Robin was evidently +much exhausted with the fatigue and +excitement of the day. But he became +so anxious about it, that my wife +interceded for him, and told me she thought +he would go to sleep more quietly after +he had been here. I well remember +now the peculiar emphasis with which +the old man repeated her words, +and said, 'Yes, yes, I shall doubtless +go to sleep more quietly after he +has been here.' It almost seemed as +though he felt his end to be near at +hand." +</p> + +<p> +I begged to know what passed at +his interview with the chaplain. My +companion, however, could give me no +information as to the first part of it, +for the old man had desired to be left +alone with him, and his wish had been +at once indulged. "But," he continued, +"on our return to the room, we found +him looking more light and cheerful +than we had ever before seen him; +and when I congratulated him, he said +that it was no wonder, for a very +heavy burthen had been taken away. +The chaplain then told us that he +proposed to administer to him the Holy +Communion, and invited my wife and +myself to partake of it with him. It +is a point on which I have always felt +doubtful, for persons in the state of +poor Robin must have very indistinct +views of the real nature of a sacrament. +In this case the old man's own +expression proved it; for, as he joined +in the chaplain's request, he told us that +he was going on a long journey, and +might require the food to support him +on the way." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," I could not help observing, +"surely his journey lay through the +valley of the shadow of death, and he +meant that his soul would be refreshed +on its passage by the body and blood +of Christ, even as the body is by bread +and wine." +</p> + +<p> +My companion shook his head as he +replied, "I believe, sir, Robin used the +words literally, but the chaplain took +the same view of them with yourself, +and it was a point for him and not me +to decide. Certainly nothing could be +more grave or attentive than the old +man's manner during the whole ceremony. +And it may be that some glimmering +of returning reason was sent to +prepare him for the approach of death. +Such cases are not of uncommon occurrence." +</p> + +<p> +I could not help thinking that, in +spiritual things, poor Robin had not +needed its light; but I made no further +reply; and my companion resumed his +narrative. +</p> + +<p> +"When the service was over, the old +man merely squeezed the chaplain's +hand in parting, but did not speak to +him. I also soon afterwards went away, +but my wife stayed for some time longer +watching by his bedside. He remained +perfectly still and silent, though his eyes +were open. At length she asked him +whether he did not feel tired, and wish +to go to sleep? And she tells me, that +he smiled like a little infant as he +replied, 'Oh no, not at all tired; for all +that wearied me has been taken away.' And +then, after a pause, he added, 'But +you may wish me good night now, for I +shall be asleep very soon;—and tell dear +Annie I am going home.' He spoke in +so cheerful a tone, that my wife little +thought they were his last words, and +she left him, as she fancied, to repose. +But it was a sleep from which he never +woke again. Ah, sir," he continued, "it +seems a sad thing to die thus forsaken +and alone; and yet, after all, many who +have kind friends and relatives round +their sick beds might envy poor Robin +his peaceful end. He went off so quietly +at last, that those who slept in the room +adjoining were not disturbed during the +night by the slightest sound. But early +this morning, when I came to inquire +after him, he was lying just as you now +see him, quite dead!" +</p> + +<p> +The deep feeling with which these +words were pronounced, convinced me +that he was no less touched than myself +by the contemplation of the outward +tranquillity of the old man's death. But +who can realize the inward peace that +must have been there when the body +fell asleep, and the soul was released +from its long imprisonment, and carried +by angels on its Homeward journey! +</p> + +<p> +As we left the old man's room, I +inquired whether there were many besides +little Annie who mourned his loss. +A smile again crossed the features of +my companion, as he replied, "There +were many of the patients who loved +him almost as dearly as the child +herself, but I can scarcely speak of them +as mourners now. A report spread +among them this morning that Robin +was going home; I cannot tell from +what quarter it arose, but when I came +to them, they crowded round me to +know if it were true." +</p> + +<p> +"And did you," I asked, "then tell +them that he was dead?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not in so many words," he replied. +"I merely said that he was already +gone home, and that they must not +expect to see him here again. And +more than one voice exclaimed in +reply, 'Happy, happy Robin, to be +taken home!'" +</p> + +<p> +Still I observed that I had remarked +on the countenance of many of the +patients an expression of sadness. +</p> + +<p> +"True," he answered, "for with them +the transition of feeling from joy to grief +is very rapid. They are not, however, +sorrowing for poor Robin, but for +themselves, because they have not been +allowed to accompany him. There were +some, in the first instance, who were +very loud in their complaints; but I +soothed them by saying that it was +right the old man should go first, +because he had been here so long." After +a pause, he continued: "It is my own +wish, as well as the chaplain's, that +many of them should attend the funeral, +for I would gladly pay this tribute of +respect to Robin's memory. And yet +I am half reluctant to give way to it: +the remembrance of the scene might +afterwards throw some gloom over the +bright and happy notions which they +have now formed of his home." +</p> + +<p> +I replied, that it might be so; "and +yet," I added, "they would find in the +thanksgivings and prayers of the Burial +Service only the exact echo of their own +joy and sorrow." And as I said this, I +could not help feeling that the scene +after the old man's death had been in +perfect harmony with his life, and that +poor Robin was rightly rejoiced over +and rightly mourned. +</p> + +<p> +My account of my visit to the Asylum +has already far exceeded the limits +which I had assigned it. And yet, at +the risk of being wearisome, I cannot +refrain from adding one more fragment +from my conversation within its walls, +before I proceed to the more pleasant +task that lies beyond. With a view to +prosecuting my inquiries in the village of +B——, I asked my companion whether +Robin had ever dropped a hint of his +former calling. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh yes, sir," was the reply; "he +used to say that he had enlisted as a +soldier very early in life, and had at one +time been made a prisoner. I have +seen the tears run down little Annie's +cheeks at the piteous tale he would tell +of the way in which his enemies had +bound him hand and foot, and cast him +into a dark and terrible dungeon, from +which he had hardly escaped with his +life. But I believe the whole story to +have been imaginary, and it is one that +I have little difficulty in accounting for. +He doubtless referred to the hardships +he had endured at the period of his first +imprisonment in the Asylum. No one +can wonder that they should have taken +so strong a hold on his imagination." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he, then," I asked, "believe +that his warfare had long been at an end?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," he replied. "And perhaps +it would be more correct to say +that the treatment to which he had been +exposed was the origin of his delusion, +than that it accounted for it. The idea +that he was liable to the attacks of some +secret enemy, seems from that time to +have taken a fixed possession of his +brain; and if any one assured him that +he never could be subjected to the same +ill usage again, his invariable answer +was, that there was no safety for him +except at home. And then he would +maintain that having once enlisted, he +could never cease to be a soldier, +and talk of treacherous foes and long +watchings and doubtful conflicts. You +would have imagined him, from his +conversation, to have been one who was +fighting and struggling all day long, +instead of the quiet, inoffensive character +that he really was. But this, sir, was +not all; he would fancy that every +one else was a soldier also. He almost +persuaded little Annie that she had +enlisted in the same army with +himself; and often made her sad by +talking of the enemies who surrounded her, +and the service she was required to +perform." +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-076"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-076.jpg" alt="Page 76"> +</p> + +<p> +I here interrupted him by asking +whether the child had not been +baptized. He at once perceived the drift +of the question, and replied, "I know +what you mean, sir,—she was then +made the soldier and servant of Christ." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," I added, "and entered into a +solemn engagement to fight manfully +under His banner, against sin, the +world, and the Devil." +</p> + +<p> +"True," he answered; "and it is +very curious that it was the old man +himself who first pointed out that +passage in the Prayer-Book to me. I +remember it struck me at the time +that his peculiar notions about soldiers +might, in some way, be connected with +it. And I think it far from improbable; +for Robin's madness seemed principally +to consist in his regarding metaphors +as realities, and realities as metaphors. +The difference between him and ourselves +would be, that he believed little +Annie to be really a soldier, and not +merely to be called one in the Prayer-Book." +</p> + +<p> +I made no further reply, for my own +thoughts grew perplexed, as I tried to +determine with myself what were truths +and realities, and what merely shadows +and metaphors, of the things pertaining +to our present existence. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER V +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Oh, bliss of child-like innocence, and love<br> + Tried to old age! creative power to win,<br> + And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove,<br> + Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin.<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The rooms of the Asylum were hot and +close, and as the outer door opened, it. +was very pleasant to escape from them +into the fresh, open air. While we did +so, my mind experienced a similar kind +of relief, as the plaintive accents of +childhood broke in on my prolonged +conversation with the superintendent. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the interest I took in his +narrative itself, it was with a feeling of +oppression that I had listened to it; and +there was something very refreshing in +the sudden change. The sounds which I +now heard proceeded from little Annie. +She was standing on the threshold, just +as I had seen her when I entered, except +that her grief was of a less quiet +character than before, and something +of impatience seemed to be mingled +with it. +</p> + +<p> +"It is no use," said her mother, as +we approached; "the poor child will +fret herself into a fever, and I cannot +persuade her to come away. She does +nothing but beg and entreat to be +allowed to see poor Robin again. I really +believe it will be the best way to take +her to his cell." +</p> + +<p> +"It must not be," replied her husband; +"she has no idea of what death +really is; and the sight of the body +would rill her mind with strange fancies, +and perhaps do her serious harm; for +she herself is but a poor weakly thing. +You know I never refused her permission +to visit him while he was alive, but +I cannot suffer it now." "It is singular," +he added, turning to me with a look of +vexation, "that I should have found +less difficulty in quieting the complaints +of all the mourners for poor Robin +within the Asylum, than in soothing the +grief of my own little girl. I do not +like to treat her with severity, and yet +without it I see no hope of getting her +away." +</p> + +<p> +All that I had heard of the child, +inspired me with a lively compassion for +her; and I asked to be allowed to try +my powers of persuasion. Permission +was readily granted; and I instinctively +had recourse to the old man's last +message, as the easiest way of gaining +access to her heart. "Annie," I said, +gently, "do you know where your friend +is gone?" The simple question checked +her sobs, and she looked timidly in my +face, but made no reply. "Poor Annie!" +I continued; "and did he indeed leave +you without telling you whither he was +going?" +</p> + +<p> +"Home, sir, home," she replied; and +the accent, no less than the words, +recalled to my mind the childlike old +man: "he often told me that he was +going home." +</p> + +<p> +"True," I replied; "and he is gone +home now. Do you really wish to see +him again?" She was silent; but the +look of affection that beamed on every +feature was a sufficient answer; so I +continued: "And if you do see him +again, Annie, where will it be?" Her +voice faltered, as she repeated the +words, "At home;" and she again burst +into tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Annie," I said, after a short +pause, "you cannot see him here, +because he is gone away. He is now +happy in the enjoyment of his home, +and you must wait till you can +go to him there. But, perhaps, your +home is different from his. Is it so, +Annie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no," she answered, with unexpected +earnestness, "we are all children +of the same Father, and all travel to the +same Home—that is," she added, looking +down, and colouring deeply, "if we +are careful to keep in the path that +leads to it." +</p> + +<p> +"And what path is that, Annie?" +</p> + +<p> +"The path of trustful obedience, and +quiet faith, and holy love," was her +immediate reply. +</p> + +<p> +I knew at once that the words were +not her own, but that she spoke from +memory, and that I had accidentally led +her to one of the old man's allegories. +I was anxious for my own sake to hear +more of it, and it seemed to me that +it might be good for her own sorrow +to turn her thoughts for a little while +into this channel; so I continued: +"And is it a pleasant path, Annie, that +leads us home?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is an up-hill path," she said; +"but, as we walk along it, we can, if +we will, awake soft notes of music beneath +our feet, and there are whispering +winds to cheer us on our way." +</p> + +<p> +"And what, Annie," I asked, "do +you mean by the soft music and the +whispering wind?" +</p> + +<p> +"The soft music is prayer," she +replied, "and the whispering wind, the +Holy Spirit of God." +</p> + +<p> +"And can we," I said, "have the +soft music without the whispering +wind? I mean, can we pray without +the assistance of God's Holy +Spirit?" But there was no need for me to +have explained the question; the +language of allegory was most familiar +to the mind of the child, and she had +recourse to it in her reply. "No, sir," +she said, "for the spirit of harmony +dwells in the breeze; and it is the +wind alone that gives life to the music, +and bears it upward from earth to +Heaven." +</p> + +<p> +I cannot tell how far she realized the +deep meaning of these words, for I did +not venture to examine her upon them. +I was afraid lest I should only render +indistinct the image which they +conveyed to her mind, by touching the +colours with an unskilful hand. +</p> + +<p> +Presently I resumed:—"It must, +Annie, I think, be a pleasant path +along which the wind thus murmurs, +and the music plays!" +</p> + +<p> +"It is a pleasant path," she replied, +"and yet it is very thickly covered with +thorns." "But," she added, and from +the smile which for a moment lit up her +countenance, it seemed as though this +were the metaphor which pleased her +best, "they are all magic thorns; and +if we look upward to the clear, blue +sky, and tread firmly upon them, they +keep changing into flowers." +</p> + +<p> +"And is there not another path," I +said, venturing to guess at the conclusion +of the allegory, "which leads away +from home, and along which the flowers, +as you tread upon them, keep changing +into thorns?" +</p> + +<p> +But I was wrong in my conjecture, +for she looked perplexed, and replied, +"I do not know, sir, about the other +paths; the old man never used to talk +to me but of one." And I felt ashamed +of my question, as I said within myself, +"Oh, happy child, to know as yet but +of one path; and happy teacher, to have +so shared the innocency of childhood as +to have spoken to her but of one!" +</p> + +<p> +Presently, however, she continued, +as though she observed my confusion: +"But, sir, he said there were flowers +which grow by the way-side. When +the wind blows softly upon them they +perfume the air; and their fragrance is +very sweet and pleasant to those who +pass them by; but if we stop to gather +them, then they become magic flowers, +and keep changing into thorns. And +do you know, sir, why it is so?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not exactly," I replied; "I should +like you to explain it to me." +</p> + +<p> +"Because, sir," she said, "when we +gather them, we stoop down, and turn +our eyes towards the earth, instead of +gazing upward on the clear, blue sky." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Annie," I observed, "you have +not yet told me what are the flowers +which we gather, or the thorns on +which we tread." +</p> + +<p> +"The thorns," she replied, "are the +trials and afflictions which God sends +us; the flowers are the pleasures and +amusements which we make choice of +for ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, Annie," I said, "the children +who gather the magic flowers are those +who follow their own will, while those +who tread upon the magic thorns are +such as submit themselves quietly to +the will of God." +</p> + +<p> +Her countenance became grave, and +I saw that she already guessed my +meaning. I thought her mind was +now sufficiently prepared to allow me +to apply directly to her own case the +old man's allegory; and it seemed as +though his spirit were resting upon me +while I did so, and I used almost +unconsciously the language of metaphor. +</p> + +<p> +"Annie," I continued, "a very sharp +and piercing thorn was but yesterday +placed in your path. Your foot is +young and tender, and I do not +wonder that you should shrink from +treading upon it." She trembled violently +at this direct allusion to her grief, +and yet looked anxiously in my face, +as though she wished me to say more. +My own voice began to falter, and I +could only add, "But, believe me, your +kind friend did not deceive you; the +thorn of affliction lies on the path +homewards; and if you have but courage to +walk quietly on, there is none that with +greater certainty will change into a +flower. Go, Annie, and awaken the +soft music, and you will be cheered by +the whispering wind." +</p> + +<p> +One by one the tears trickled down +her cheeks, as she turned to her mother, +and said, "Forgive me for my impatience; +I am ready now, dearest mother, +to accompany you home; or I will go +home directly myself, and you shall +follow me." She did not trust herself +to pause an instant, or make any further +reply, but expressed her gratitude to +me by a look, and at once hastened +away: and while she went, so vivid +was the impression which the allegory +had made on my own mind, that the +wind which played with her garments +seemed to possess some holy charm, +and I could fancy that I was listening +to strains of music, in the soft echo of +her receding steps. +</p> + +<p> +The mother also was silent; but +there was no mistaking the expression +of her countenance. The subdued smile +on her lips, and the bright tears that +trembled in her eyes, as she raised +them to Heaven, told me that she was +following the same solemn train of +thought with myself, and treasuring yet +more deeply in her heart the sayings +of her child. +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause of some seconds, +and the sound of little Annie's footsteps +had just died away, when the stillness +was again broken by her father's voice. +"You were fortunate, sir," he said, "in +leading her to the story of the homeward +path; many visitors have considered +it the most beautiful of all that +the old man told. It was a great +favourite with the child. I have often +heard her repeating detached portions +of it to herself, though I was not aware +that she had found in them so deep a +meaning.—It is strange, very strange," +he added, thoughtfully, "for I cannot +even now tell who could have explained +them to her. I also have often looked +back with wonder on the answers of the +child. But there is a passage from Holy +Scripture, which seems to be their best +interpreter, and they never fail to recall +it to my mind: "I thank thee, O Father, +Lord of heaven and earth, that thou +hast hid these things from the wise and +prudent, and hast revealed them unto +babes."* +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Luke x. 21. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Poor Annie! My conversation with +her gave a ray of brightness to a visit +which otherwise had in it enough of +gloom. Nor has this feeling been in +any way changed by the early death of +the child. There is still peace and joy +in every thought connected with her, +though within a few months of my first +visit to the Asylum little Annie was +laid in her quiet grave. She laboured +but one short hour in the vineyard, and +then was taken to the same home with +the old man who had borne so long and +so patiently all the burthen and heat +of the day. Yet my own heart was a +witness that even her little hour of +labour had not been without its fruit. +A romantic story was told concerning +the cause of her death. It was said +that she had never recovered the loss +of her friend, but gradually pined away +in consequence of it, and at length died +of a broken heart. But I believed not +the tale; for little Annie did not sorrow +as those without hope; and though, perhaps, +the cord of affection, that united +her so closely to the old man, may have +hastened her progress to the home to +which he was gone, I do not think +that her bereavement was the cause of +her death. I had left her with the +impression that she was not long for +this world. I cannot exactly describe +from whence this feeling arose. It +was not merely because her cheek was +wan, and her complexion delicate, and +her little heart seemed to beat with +too eager emotion for the frail prison +in which it was confined; but there +was something in her voice, look, and +manner, which kept reminding me of +the world of spirits; as though, in all +her youth and innocence, she were +walking on its very borders, and her +gentle form might at any moment fade +into the mist, and vanish from my view. +</p> + +<p> +The more I reflected on this, the +more sure I became that little Annie +had lived her time, and that no sudden +shock had broken prematurely the +thread of life. I thought that this +assurance might afford some comfort +to her parents in their heavy affliction; +for Annie was an only daughter. But +when I called upon them, the mother +alone was at home; and I soon found +that she needed no consolation which +I could afford her. She had her own +secret store of treasure in every word +that had fallen from her darling child. +I shall never forget the look with which +she said to me, "Ah, sir, I understood +very little of her words while she was +alive; but the moment she was gone, +it seemed as though a light was shining +upon them from another world, and I +can read them plainly now." And then, +after a pause, she added, "Do you +remember, sir, on the very day you were +with us, how she said, 'I will go home +directly myself, and you shall follow +me?' I remembered it well; and +she saw from my countenance that I +guessed her meaning. "Yes," she +continued, as, in spite of every effort to +suppress it, the big tear rolled down +her cheek, "it was in order that her +father and myself might learn to follow +her, that little Annie was taken Home. +He too, sir, has become since then an +altered man." +</p> + +<p> +A silent pressure of the hand was my +only reply, for I felt that the afflicted +mother had learnt more truly than I +could teach her the lesson which was +to be gathered from the death of her +child. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VI. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Gently along the vale of tears<br> + Lead me from Tabor's sunbright steep;<br> + Let me not grudge a few short years<br> + With thee toward Heaven to walk and weep.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + But, oh! most happy, should thy call,<br> + Thy welcome call, at last be given—<br> + "Come, where thou long hast stor'd thy all!<br> + Come, see thy place prepar'd in Heaven!"<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The recollection of little Annie has +made me wander from my story, and +I must now hasten to bring it to a +conclusion. I left the Asylum, pondering +deeply on the things I had heard and +seen. My heart was sad within me; +for I could not help giving way to a +feeling of compassionate sorrow as I +thought of the old man's solitary lot. +</p> + +<p> +His past history seemed, indeed, to +be lost in almost hopeless oblivion. +But I knew that he must have been +crushed and broken down by some +terrible calamity in early youth; that +he had been awakened from the stupor +which it produced to the stern +reality of bonds and chains, and then +been doomed to a dull, unvaried +captivity, not for days, weeks, or months, +but for a long period of more than +fifty years. Thus reason kept drawing +a melancholy picture of one without +home, without friends, dependent on +charity for his daily bread, whose +whole existence was a dreary void, +with no employment to beguile his +thoughts, no hope to cheer him on +his way. It needed only the +recollection of that peculiar solitude of +mind, which is almost the certain +offspring of insanity, to complete its +gloom. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, after all, it was my own +infirmity which made me sad; for, +when I had strength to gaze on the +same picture with the eye of faith, +bright and beautiful were the images +that I saw. I then perceived that he +was not without home, for his home +was in the land of spirits beyond the +grave; he was not without friends, for +his wife and children were waiting for +him there; while he remained upon +earth, he was not dependent, for he +felt his daily wants to be supplied by +a Father's care; he never, for a single +instant, was without occupation, for he +had a long warfare to accomplish, a +distant journey to perform; and still +less was he uncheered by the blessing +of hope, for he was able to rest in +humble trust on his Saviour's promise, +and go on, day after day, laying up +treasures for himself, which neither +moth nor rust could corrupt, nor thieves +break through and steal. Out of the +loneliness caused by his affliction he +had created a new world for himself, +or rather, he had been drawn by it to +live in that world which, though unseen, +God has really created for us all. And +surely to him life could never have +been dull and unvaried, while he was +able to trace the types and emblems +of spiritual things alike in the passing +gleams of sunshine, and in the dark +shadows that rested upon his path! +</p> + +<p> +Mingled with these conflicting +emotions, the question from time to time +arose in my mind, 'And was poor Robin +really mad?' And again it was only +my own infirmity which caused me to +shrink from the reply. It is hard +indeed to define madness; and the state +of his intellect probably varied from +time to time. Thus it may have been +almost without a cloud when little +Annie was his companion. So, also, +during my own brief interview with +him, the stillness of the evening, and +the unison of his own thoughts with the +surrounding scene, may have breathed +a soothing influence upon his mind. +And yet when I reflected calmly on +that very interview, I felt that they +were right in not suffering the old +man to travel alone along the journey +of life. +</p> + +<p> +His was the second childhood; simple, +pure, and holy as the first, and +yet, in his case, no less than the first, +requiring a protector's care. He spoke +and thought as a child, and children +could understand him; but the calm +mirror of his mind quickly grew +troubled in his intercourse with men, and +he then lost the power of explaining +his thoughts, or perhaps of himself +distinguishing between the shadow and +the substance, the things of sight and +the things of faith. Reason had +resigned her sway during the mental +conflict which had been caused by his +calamities; and though peace and +quietness had been restored, she never +had attained sufficient vigour to +resume it again. Nay more; it may be +that her lamp was the more dim and +uncertain, on account of the brighter +and clearer light which from that time +burned unceasingly in his soul. It is +possible that he was slow in observing +the different shades of colour that +passed across earthly objects, because +to his eye one unfading colour was +resting upon them all; and that his +mere intellectual faculties remained +weak and palsied, because out of +this very weakness he had been made +strong, and he was at all times +conscious of the presence of a surer +support and a safer guide. +</p> + +<p> +And what matters it, if it were so? +Why may we not revere poor Robin, +and love him, and learn from him, and +yet not shrink from acknowledging that +his reason had gone astray? Surely +there is no one who would not gladly +leave the hard, dull road of life, if only +they could wander with him along the +same bright and happy paths! There +is no one who would not give the +choicest gifts of reason twice told, if +only they could purchase for them the +child-like faith of that simple-hearted man! +</p> + +<p> +I was half sorry when my arrival at +the village of B—— made me change +these silent meditations for the attempt +to investigate the old man's connexions +and history. It was not, however, mere +curiosity that prompted me to do so. +I was anxious, if it were possible, to +save him from a pauper's grave. For +a long time my inquiries were in vain. +Some few, indeed, had heard of poor +Robin, for his fame, as I have said, +had spread beyond the walls of the +Asylum; but the name of Wakeling +was unknown to them; and they did +not believe he had ever been connected +with the parish of B——. They referred +me, however, to the cottage of the +oldest inhabitant of the village. She +was a widow, of very great age, having +lived to see four generations around +her. A few years since, they said, she +was able to speak distinctly of events +that had happened more than half a +century ago, but latterly her memory +had become impaired. +</p> + +<p> +When I mentioned to her the name of +Wakeling, the word at once awakened +some recollection of the past. She +twice repeated it, and added, almost +mechanically, "Good and excellent +people, sir, and very kind to the poor." But +when I questioned her as to their +occupation and history, and asked what +had become of them, she shook her +head, as though the thread of memory +had been broken off, and she was +unable to unite it again. +</p> + +<p> +As a last hope, I referred directly +to the spring of 1783, and inquired +whether it had been marked by any +particular occurrence. "Ah, sir," she +replied, "much of the past is now like +a dream to me, but that is a period +which I never can forget." The tone +of sadness in which these words were +uttered, proved some deep sorrow to +be connected with the remembrance of +it; and on further questioning, I learnt +that it was a season in which an infectious +fever had raged in the village, and +that whole families had been carried off +by its ravages: she herself had then +been left an orphan. But though her +recollection of the illness itself seemed +as vivid as though it had occurred but +yesterday, of the Wakelings she could +say nothing with distinctness. It may +be that her mind was too absorbed with +the remembrance of her own grief to +allow her to recur to that of others; +or it may be that, even at the time, in +the general affliction the loss of an +individual, however grievous, had been +scarcely noticed, and soon forgotten. At +length she seemed to grow weary of my +importunity, and said, "I cannot tell +who may have lived, and who may have +died: you must go, sir, to the churchyard, +and there you will find the only +certain history of that fatal spring." +</p> + +<p> +A new thought was suggested by +these words, and I repaired thither in +the hope that I might find that information +which I had sought in vain from +the living, among the silent records of +the dead. +</p> + +<p> +The evening was now drawing on, +and it was in truth the very hour at +which but yesterday I had parted from +the old man. I was alone; and as I +trod, with a cautious reverence upon the +green sod, there was no sound to break +the tranquillity of the scene, save the +ripple of the waters at the edge of the +cliff on which the churchyard stood. +Their restless motion only made me +feel the more deeply the stillness of the +hallowed ground itself; and I thought, +that if the old man had been with me, +he might have found in it an apt emblem +of the quiet resting-place of the dead, +lying on the very borders of the sea +of life, and yet untroubled by its +murmuring and sheltered from its storms. +I was not long in discovering the +object which I sought. The rays of the +setting sun at once directed me to a +stone at the eastern extremity of the +churchyard. It was distinguished from +those around by a simple cross; but in +spite of the soft light that was now shed +upon it, it was with difficulty that I +deciphered the inscription which it bore. +For not only was the tomb itself thickly +covered with moss and weeds, but my +own eye grew dim with tears, as one by +one the few sad words revealed to me +the secret of the old man's history. +His restlessness during the spring, the +object of his last solitary journey, and +parts of his conversation with myself, +which before had seemed obscure, were +now fully explained. The inscription +was as follows:— +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + SACRED<br> + TO THE MEMORY OF<br> + SUSAN, WIFE OF ROBERT WAKELING,<br> + WHO DIED<br> + APRIL 18TH, 1783, AGED 28 YEARS.<br> + ALSO OF THEIR CHILDREN,<br> + ALICE, AGED 6 YEARS, HENRY, AGED 5 YEARS,<br> + AND EDWARD, AN INFANT,<br> + WHO SURVIVED HER ONLY A FEW DAYS.<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + "I SHALL GO TO THEM<br> + BUT THEY SHALL NOT RETURN TO ME."<br> + 2 SAM. XII. 21<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +There was room beneath the text +from Holy Scripture for one name +more, and it was there that I added the +words: +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + ALSO OF ROBERT WAKELING,<br> + WHO DIED<br> + APRIL 18TH, 1843, AGED 93 YEARS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +They remain as a simple record that +the old man was indeed united at last, +in body as well as spirit, to those whom +he had so dearly loved, and mourned so +long. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="transnote"> +[Transcriber's note: Odd and unusual spellings +are as printed.] +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75652 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + + diff --git a/75652-h/images/img-076.jpg b/75652-h/images/img-076.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d8de30 --- /dev/null +++ b/75652-h/images/img-076.jpg diff --git a/75652-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/75652-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e000260 --- /dev/null +++ b/75652-h/images/img-cover.jpg diff --git a/75652-h/images/img-front.jpg b/75652-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..73886e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/75652-h/images/img-front.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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