The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1860-02-02
WASHINGTON, D. C.
For the National Frs.
A PALACE IN GENOA.
BY EDWARD SPENCER.
VI[-Cautluued


Suicide, and had taught himself to yearn for it,
as a sure panacea against ali his complaints,
and necessary resort in the extremity of his
misery. This morning, particularly the Idea
has visited him, filling up his thoughts and his
mental vision with its palpable form, in the
guise Of the freshest and most perfect lowell
ness. He toyed with the vial of deadly Hy-
drocyanic Acid, musingly-
" Were Death unlike Sleep,
CaHehi Ibis way?"
The slow illness, the AGATE pain, now-thats to
be feared-but when it comes in spasm,
briefer than the drawn breath-so; when it is
quicker over than you can say, One, Two, is it
so horrible a matter? How sweet
and pungent smells it. CTS Beale Lloyd in
terrogates his hopes, wishes, fears-inspecting
his morbidness under the dssecting knife, as,
an old time, the grave Haruspex was wont to
Inspect the entras of his victim for an augury
of good or bad fortune.) Now, again, is it
really best TO go to battle; to rear ones head
defantly; to glow with wrath because misinter-
preted; to conquer the peace rightly yours, but
insolently denied; to burn the earth, that can
not OF, SnOulu not rdtner give
over quietly, and, worsted, steal away forever,
lest in the renewed contest get harder knocks
STILL more pain, and deeper infamy?
Night wipes blame away" says poet and
truly, when all is dark around, aoe at least, do
not see how black, how forbidding, the clouds
appear. And then, is it wrong,
when the impulse knocks thus vehemently at
ones heart ? Cato, for instance man who
esoved law-shall we say his last deed outlawed
him, or did he not rather obey higher law,
born Of his own fine wisdom, thrice purified,
exalted, clarified, to speak, by long and
earnest contemplation of the divine?
Have not the ghosts of my murdered life and
peace sent me their final challenge" Meet us
at Philippi" and is it not now the night after
the battle-that battle which / fought we'll and
bravely, but lost irremediably? Is not this the
meet time? | fancy the eyes of my
spirit can clearly trace out before it, ready for
nay steps to follow, one of those" blind ways"
which are mercifully provided us, so that those
like me, who are stricken down, crushed, burnt
out, may steal silently and uunoticed out bv
them, and escape. Escape |
must--or else, | do wilful murder my soul
and mind. Which Is the worse What need
for me to stay? / have no place in all the
Pageant of Life, vain, empty, trivial as 1t is.
why, then, must | stand shivering upon the
street corner, rained and stormed upon, until it
has gone by2 Elsewhere, there may be com
fort, \ or, anyhow, : < rest Rest
That is worth a crusade to me, \ worth,
wounds and scorn worth quest as arduous as
the quest of Arthur's knights for San Greal.
Rest Great benison, = = if, after the black
Uncertainty whose gloomest walks | hesitate
to tread, vet must--if, through its cor
rdors should lead the way to Rest, what
dangers could repel me from making the at
tempt And if Rest there is, for any, since
man has it not here why, who can win 1T, I'M
Tess he dares the black Stygian waters?
The doubts, the dangers of this present life; its
shortcomings, its littlenesses, its shadows, its
mysteries-when that comes, all these shall be
made SO plain unto me- and j shall be able to
know, and understand and have patience with,
The reason for them all. Alas 1 am very far
from being able to do that, Rotc! And then,
the thought is so natural, the association so
reasonable Sin and Death They went hand
IN hand together ont of Eden, and have been
inseparable, since, boon comrades
partners, who, by joint commission, have the
whole earth in fee. We mortals rent life of
them, and my lease is long expired
Therefore these bailir pains. thus rudely seize
ones around me- to whom owe that respect
that no longer ~ my own. Aye, the
worst thing, that Shall man live who not
respects himself? Needeth that theme the
subtle arguing of Benedictne Fathers, Jesuit
schools, or Doctors of Sorbonne? lis too
solid truth to look around for casuistic stays
aud holsters. And l.? Faugh / one
who hath spitten IN his own tace-who live IN
mud, and contemplate my habitation with some
IL IL
with such an object? Given, world to con
auer, will this pride help one? Given, soul
to free, a hell to escape, will this pride point
the way, and strengthen one to tempt it? Given,
4 mite to crush n bite to scratch, pimple TO
cub oh-in what does this pride aid me? y
And then, (again the old thoughtD
My tones would rest
That have but labor'd to attain this hour :"
For. what is the gift of Life but Death
Some take it rudely, deeming it rndely thrust
upon them; some turn away with terror, loath.
ing, madness-like children, when for srups
that they cry for We present them what
slough they confess it not--is far more whole
SOMEBODY'S; but most look forward to it a
climax really pleasant, werct not for the doubts
that darken about it--so clouds pile up at near
ly every sunset-and some yearn after it, with
she wild and passionate yearniDg Of the lover
sor the night, behind whose curtain he shall
swiftly steal away, at the lattice, to the rosy
couch, and clasp her to his bosom, her, has
bride, his life-the honey that melts fragrantly
into his throbbng soul ElSe-there
had been few patriots with their Roman
virtue" and fewer still, as martyrs, would have
lived in fame, bearing the sword and palm.
But /? / drink no wine of Cyprus
when / indulge this thought 1t is pregnant to
me with no suggestions of tenderly passionate
Epithalamia. nor of fiercely exuitant odes,
Pythian OF Olympic. Thinking of Death, think
of Rest and Ease. j seem 10 escape from the
business of the street, where all is rush, and
whirl. and turmoil-shame and crime; where
ssate-hued clouds lower, and the Northeast
blast hows. and the raw rains of November
Child you to the bone; l seem to escape from
all this to enter into the quietness, the temper
ed warmth, the mild light, the pleasant cosiness
on ones home. Without, the storm bowls, the
ram beats, man tolls with uneasy brow, and
poor wretches SILVER and starve; within, In slip
pered ease, one sips the nectar, and Tolls In the
thought propelled chairs Of Olympus.
Give me this, then, give me this, oh mystery OF
Death, and / care not how heavy falls thy
stroke, nor how keen and thrilling thy azure
.sword-bladel Give me this. \ Now,
candidly, could not live as some do, suffering,
Ia the course of one hours thought, thousand
pangsof death, yet being such base and PROSTATE
slaves to the thing called life-at best, base,
ignoble matter in most instances, judge-that
they dare not Lift an or raise voice for
freedom. l am not so, thank God! My func-
lions are of that deep and generous stamp, they
would starve upon such meagre fare as this.
Yet, 1 foresee, l am come Just to that