Loudon free press. (Loudon, Tenn.) 1852-1855, 1854-08-02
Can We Ever Forget.

/ or roll, ceansed of it's manuscript by a repeated
| processes. The aucients were acquainted with
a method of removing the writing from parch-'
ment so as to make Unavailable for use second
| time. process they resorted TO whenever what
had been inscribed became devoid of interest,
| or the vellum skin more valuable thanthe man.
uscript upon it. But though this process made
the parchment sufficiently clean for q second
crop of ideas, it did not remove all traces of the
| first writing,and antiquarians, with knowledge
of chemistry superior to that of the ancients,
have regularly called back, in the inverse order,
the traces of the handwriting effaced, and made
accessible again the tragedy, the legends and
the romances which would otherwise have been
lost to the world. Pursuing this metaphor of
the palimpsest, De Quincy goes on to say
"What else than natural and mighty palimp-
sest is the human brain? Such palimsest is
my brain; such palimpsest, oh readerl is
yours. Everlasting layers of ideas, images,
feelings have fallen upon your brain as lofty as
| light Each succession has seemed to bury al
that went before. And yet, in reality, not one
of mans life and its external shows may indeed
be irrelate and incongruous; but the organic
ing principles which fuse into harmony, and
| gather about fixed predetermined ceutres what.
ever heterogeneous elements life may have &C.
cumulated from without, will not permit grand.
eur of human unity greatly to be violated, or its
ultimate repose to be troubled, in the retrospect
from dying moments, or from other great con-
vulsions"
AS an evidence that the mind never forgets,
De Quincy mentions the case Of girl who
came near drowning,and was saved from death;
shut not until she had descended within the
abyss Of death and looked into, as far, perhaps,
as human eye can have looked that had permiss.
ion to return" TO quote from the narrative:
"At a certain stage of this descent, blow
seemed to strike her,phosphoric radiance sprang
forth from her eyeballs; and Immediately
mighty theatre expanded within her BRAIN In
a momentu the twinkling Of an eve, every act,
every design of her past life, lived again, ar
ranging themselves not as a succession, but as
parts of q co-existence. Such light fell upon
the whole path of her life backwards into tho
shades of infancy, as the light, which wrapt
the destined apostle on his way to Damascus.
Yet that light blinded for season; but hers
poured celestial vision upon her brain, SO that
her co nsciousness become omnipresent at enc
moment to every feature in the infinite review.
4 pail deep as oblivion had
baa,, h. Of
experiences; and yet suddenly, at a silent com.
mand, at the signal of blazing rocket sent up
from the brain, the pail draws up and the whole
depths of the theatre are exposed.
Yes, reader, countless are the mysterious
hand writings of grief or Joy which have inscrib-
ed themselves successfully upon the palimrsest
of our brain; and like the annual leaves of abo.
riginal forests, or the undissolving SHOWS on the
Himlaya, or light falling upon light, the endless
strata have covered each other in forgetfulness.
But by the hour of death, but by fever, but by
the searchIngs of opium, all these can revive
in strength. They are not dead, but sleepingo
The truth SO forcibly expressed BY the peril.
nent metaphor and eloquent language of De
Quincy is worth more than a passing thosght.
1t is sad or pleasing that we have not and new.
err can escape from a single thought, word, or
deed our past lives-that at some time the
fearful experiences of our moments of passion,
envy, jealousy, selfshness revenge AID Of all
the long catalogue of weaknesses and vices
which human nature is heir to, will throng the
brain and joste there the fewer recollections of
peaceful hours, when love ruled the soul and
the virtues sat around her throne The term
change as applied to different periods of life,
is only figure of speech. We are not chang
ed. Infancy is lying in all its halfconscious
innocence beneath the exciting pleasures and
strange hopes of childhood-youth with its
moving panorama of dreams is only overshad.
owed by manhood with its succession of stern
realities-the vigor and energy of the cumina-
ting point of sleeping in the memory of the
old man whose eye has become dim, whose
step falters, and whose hand trembles At the
moment of death, if not before, we shall live
over again the mingled hours as they have each
blended with the other, and then we shall know
the full meaning of the truth, ''There is no
eternal forgetfulness." There is no power to
exercise us from this destiny, "no alchemy of
passion or disease that can scorch away the inn
mortal impressess. We must retrace step by
step the paths by which we have come to our
present condition of being-our curses and our
prayers, Our motives and desires, our settled
purposes and our most fleeing fanciesour loves
our hates, our smiles and tears, our school boy
triumphs and defeats, our mothers goodnight
kiss, and our fathers rod of correction, the luIl-
ably of the cradle, and the playful jingle of our
first rattle-box, the recollection of these all will
by omniscient chemistry, be brought before US
as harmonious whole, and the consciousness
of that awful moment will be the prophesy of
Our eternal destiny.
If then, we would have none but pleasant
memories, we must write on the palimpsest Of
our brain nothing but right thoughts, kind feel
ings, temperate words, and noble actions, for so
will each succeeding surface of the memorial
palimpsest reveal that which it will be delight
to read, and the last hour will be review Of
the happiness of life and the assurance Of