"Here have I sat for hours with Henry Douglas, the friend, the companion of my youth; and listened with unwearied delight to the flow of mind which poured its exhaustless treasure from his lips; sometimes expanding its stream to the amplitude of ocean, then narrowing its pellucid waves within confines of unrivalled fertility; and again, (if you will allow me to pursue the image,) still farther contracting its limits to dissport occasionally amid the enchantments of rock and bower, scattering its spray in bright fantastic sparkles all around. You are to consider an introduction to this hallowed spot, which I have consecrated to his memory, as a distinguishing mark of the regard with which I wish to treat his nephew, and an earnest of that friendship, which if you desire to cultivate, I shall be happy to bestow on one so nearly allied to the man who, of all others, I most loved upon earth." There was a solemn tenderness in his manner which thrilled me; and I thanked him heartily, expressing as well as I could, how gratefully I felt inclined to profit by his kindness, adding, "I do not believe that I ever saw my uncle Henry: if I did, it must have been in early childhood, for I have no remembrance of him, but have often heard of him as a person rarely gifted."—"Yes,—had you ever seen him, he could never have been forgotten! there was an illumination in his very countenance which irresistibly seized upon the attention. The play of intelligence upon his features was like the summer lightning, 'as bright and harmless too;' and, in him were combined 'the wisdom of the serpent, with the innocence of the dove.' My dear departed Douglas possessed the most brilliant talents. Imagine these rising majestically from a solid plinth of boldest structure in religion and morals, while Fancy in her most tasteful mood had wreathed the light acanthus round his brow, and you may form some idea of the man who, in our youthful days, was always called the 'Corinthian pillar' of that little band in whose society he passed his hours of recreation. He was at once the most profound reasoner, the acutest critic, the soundest arbiter, and the kindest friend. The peculiar sensitiveness of his character never impaired its strength; and a remarkable accuracy of observation with which heaven had endowed him, acting in concert with an uncompromising integrity, imparted the influence of truth itself, to the decisions of his judgment. He saw whatever subject was presented to his understanding, in all its different bearings, with quickness bordering on intuition; and was enabled by the variety of his knowledge, to enter into the minutest details, without diminishing the force of outline in any question that offered itself for discussion. As might be easily supposed, this assemblage of qualities, at once the most solid and attractive that I ever knew, was little comprehended by the generality of mankind. That noble independence which disdains the tricking arts of popularity, and dares to walk alone, was miscalled pride. The elegant retirement of a mind replete with resources, and too refined to consider as society what was not congenial companionship, was, with equal departure from just discrimination, styled misanthropy, while sensibility, which with magic touch can raise aërial hosts of imagery; and straying over the sacred expanse of time gone by, and yet to come, sighs to the memory of the past, or o'er the uncertainty of the future: this was selfishness, according to vulgar interpretation. But vice and folly are compelled to pay the reluctant homage of an involuntary respect at the shrine of virtue, and collective excellence is always sure to receive its tribute, however incapable the mass of mankind may prove to appreciate the individual beauties of a character which they do not understand. Such tribute was paid in large proportion to my friend; and while kindred merit sought his acquaintance with enthusiasm, the little world were forced to gaze at him with reverence, and look up with veneration. He is gone! and I never visit this spot, associated peculiarly with his image, unaccompanied by the recollection of that epitaph at the Leasowes, the only beautiful testimony of surviving affection which I remember to have seen, and which seems as if written for Douglas, and for him alone.
Heu quanto minus est Cum reliquis versari, Quàm tui meminisse!"
Mr. Otway paused, and I felt deeply affected by the impressive manner in which these eloquent lines were repeated. After a short silence, I told him how greatly I felt indebted for the animated sketch which he had just given me of a relation whom I had never till then heard so particularly described. "At Glenalta," said I, "there is no allusion ever made to my uncle, and I think, that I have already discovered, even at this distance of time from his death, that even the name of Henry cannot be pronounced without causing an inward convulsion of feeling in my aunt. At first I thought it impossible, but on reading a paragraph to her in the newspaper yesterday, I perceived a recurrence of such an expression in her countenance, as determined me to avoid producing it again, at least by a repetition of the same sound which gave rise to her present agitation."
"This, my young friend," answered the admirable Otway, "is true to nature. In those horrible and overwhelming moments of recent disseverment, when the grave has just closed upon all that lived in our fondest affections,—when the affrighted spirit glances round upon the desert wilderness, and the tremendous solitude is only interrupted by images of despair,—then, names arrest not the attention. The throbbing heart is wrapped in present anguish, and the dull ear is dead to sounds; even the shade of the beloved might float upon the mourner's vision, and not surprise; but when the first agony of bereavement has settled into the waking consciousness of our loss, when the astonishment of death has subsided, when the phantoms of an amazed and distempered imagination no longer haunt the brain and people our dreams, then it is that the lonely heart sits in silent abandonment, and even 'the willow that waves in the wind,' terrifies like a ghost of other times; associations rise, names startle, and in proportion as distance from the event diminishes the natural right to sympathy which great misfortunes claim in the first moments of their visitation, the delicate mind shrinks within itself fearful of repulse, and would hide its feelings even from the eye of day, lest it might seem to solicit a participation in those thoughts, which are too sacred to be shared. Caroline Douglas is not to be judged of by common-place criteria. When she and the partner of her affections took up their abode at Glenalta, they presented a picture of human felicity of which while 'memory holds her seat,' I shall never lose the most lively impression. Young, and united by the most perfect attachment, grounded upon an intimate and mutual acquaintance with disposition, character, sentiments, and opinions, the highest eulogium which it was possible to pass on either, might be comprised in one short sentence; they were formed for each other. Never did I behold two people knit together in bonds of love so tender, and friendship so rational. Every thought appeared to be held in common; and when they were conversing, it seemed as if the lips of one only gave utterance to that which in the same instant had started into life within the breast of the other. So perfect was the harmony of their souls, that every idea which arose in either mind, was caught by the other at a glance, improved and beautified ere it was reflected back again. In short, it was impossible that any one whose lot was not already cast, should enjoy the privilege of their intimacy, without becoming enamoured of a state capable of producing such celestial happiness as they were permitted to taste; while in proportion as the mind was disposed to offer a tribute of abstract homage at the altar of hymen, the dread of risking individual experiment would as naturally arise, lest mistaking an exception for the rule, disappointment should ensue as the fruit of imitation. But there are very few who marry upon the principles which governed their union; and to expect similar results from discordant motives, is to look for grapes on thorns, and figs on thistles. My friends were mutually attracted by esteem, as well as affection. They did not join their destinies upon the ground of external vanity, or the sordid views of worldly aggrandisement. Their's was not a marriage of two estates; they knew what to desire: they were aware of what they wanted, and were contented with what they possessed. How often have I heard them talk of riches and poverty, in this place where you and I are now sitting! how often heard them agree that a larger share of fortune's favour might render them less dependent perhaps, upon each other for happiness, and consequently, diminish the sum of it; thus would they render privation a subject for gratitude, through the love that they bore to each other."
"What a picture of earthly bliss," said I, "have you drawn, and what a separation was that of two beings so united!"
"Aye, it was indeed a picture worth going any distance to gaze upon! It was a lesson never to be forgotten. Minds like those which I have been attempting to describe, possess the art of harmonizing every thing with which they come in contact in unison with themselves. True refinement inheres within, and no more derives its character from outward trappings, than heaven's gift of symmetry owes its fair proportions to the fringes with which fashion encumbers its beauty. In a cottage where luxury never visited, inborn elegance fixed her abode. A favorite author of mine says, that if death were considered stripped of the dreadful paraphernalia which generally attends its mournful presence, half its horrors would be annihilated. Of poverty, we may say the same. Vulgar people bring the machinery of life in all its ugliness and indelicacy before you. It is not whether your tables are of mahogany or deal; your dishes of china or delft which distinguishes refinement from its opposite. It is the soul that presides at the banquet. All this was so instinctively understood, by these pattern specimens of human nature, that dignity and ease, polish and simplicity, were the never-failing companions of their humble home. It is a theme which makes me forgetful of time. We will now bend our steps towards Lisfarne."
As we rose, he continued:—
"Over the misery which succeeded, I must, like Timanthes of old, draw a veil, for it was too painful to contemplate, even in painting. Douglas was snatched in the prime of life from the beloved of his bosom, from whom to part was the only anguish which religion had not yet taught him to endure with heavenly resignation. Even this bitter draught he learned at length to drink with Christian fortitude. No language could describe the scene of sorrow that I witnessed afterwards; but years have rolled away; the dear survivor lives to be a blessing still; and while with cheerfulness she can now mingle in the innocent gaieties of her children, her heart is set on heaven where she hopes for re-union with the only loved of earth."
Here ended a recital which I felt deeply interesting, partly perhaps because the actors in this sad tale were my nearest relations, and partly too on account of the noble characters which it pourtrayed. Falkland, I am growing serious in this place, and shall lose my spirits if I stay much longer here.
As we turned from the sacred promontory, Mr. Otway playfully shook my elbow, and, by a sudden change in the modulation of his voice, made me feel that we were not to dwell any longer on the topic which had occupied the preceeding hour. At his request I gave him a history of my life and adventures. We talked of you, and I so completely fired him by my subject, that he has taken your address, and means immediately to write to young Stanhope who, with his tutor, (a nephew, by the bye of Oliphant's) is to be at Pisa about the time of your arrival there, to make your acquaintance with all suitable activity. Mr. Otway gives a good character of his ward, so that probably you may find him worth knowing; but if not for his own sake, you will I am assured fly to the meeting for the sake of your romance; and consider the youth as a link in that mysterious concatenation, by which your fate or your fancy is bound to Glenalta.