The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1860-02-02

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returned again, and was more forcibly urged
to use the Key. Now, on this cloudy morning.
he has gotten very near to it indeed. He is
inside the iron studded door, and he is natural
ly skeptical if the Key shall have power to re-
veal to him more horror-fraught interior than
that.
besldes-he muses., toying with the tiny vial,
a-smelling at it, turning the glass stopper round
and round, and nursing it fondly and with pre-
varcating frequency in his hand-besides,
what hope have | from this putting off? |
have snned, but there is no mercy for my re-
pentance. My blackrobed, Nathan thoughts
leave no consolation to soothe the sting of
their condemning. All they say, in dismal
chorus, is, Thou shalt die I know that but
why not at my own time, in my own way? NY
works may live, why may l not retire to my
urn forthwith | cannot better things
by waiting. So much stands to rea.
son. And, for myself, l shall only
lapse ever backwards towards the worst Come
then, good prisoner. Let us
vicious and cancered juices, so that /
stay-perhaps thou art like that Pandora's box,
which, being opened, let escape all calamities,
and only shut Hope in. If with thee
| cannot swallow Hope, why, then,
twere vanity indeed to tempt thee x
What the odds, though? No hope there no
hope here-'tis equal and then, through the
| Key comes a chance, at least. Does not that
finally kick the beam? Sol World, renounce
| you, {" the pomps and vanities of this sinful
life"-ha l am then veritable catechumen,
making my confession of faith l believe-n
dust and ashes-call it He'll, then--any term
will do, so that you leave it here, within this
breast mol God, believe in Thee l know
that Thou art, by these aches and palms, by
this my weakness, by my desolating woe; |
L know Thee by nay shame, and by these mad
| disappearing troops of fiends who riot at my
heart, and ever strive to haul me away from
| Thee Oh yes, l feel Thee and Thy Pres
ence, else these gnawing pains would far out
weigh the burden of my sin, which piles itself
upon my strangled breast, ten thousand pounds
OF lead, each molecule of it armed with waspy
stings that pierce me ever deeper and launch
| their ulcerating venom towards my soul. X n
| Aud, oh God l think know the Wilderness of
| Thy mercy. Thou didst not spare his son to
| faithful Abraham more readily than Thou didst
| lend Thy oil of consolation to David. Thou
didst entreat for the good men of Sodom who
| might redeem it-Thou didst pity Peter, and
bless him with the blessing of tears, even while
he denied Thee Have | not done
penance? What were the twenty years that
Drowned Stylites upon his pillar of forty cubits,
what were Anthony's demons, Austin's throes,
compared with the penance I've been doing
here? x Have mercy Lord I ask for
no sign. | know. I've wrestled with
my sin, and it has vanquished me, ( y
weak, lean, wan, pale, despairing, now l lie
PROSTATE, and it kneels upon my throat. In
manats tuds, Domino! 1t is not God | fear
he I,,H, L L
My sin, and the Power l am surrendered to by
| that sin, there's where my Dread in.
vests ITSELF
Away, these doubts and questionings Moth
ing comes after. How must dispose of No,o ?
Rid 1t? Aye-come, my good tincture, that
| shall loosen these letters of my soul. Come,
| by my lips mount to my brain, dull these
aching thoughts, and clot this vipereus blood.
Thy gifts are better than this misery in which
am stepped; better not to be than thus to
| e-sleepless from very anguish void of
reason; incapable of action dry of tears !;
drowned in poisonous pride; consumed by
| shame; weak, weak as the newborn infant,
yet impotent of cry for strength; cancerous,
ucered by my very loathing hate of myself
coward, sick, my will at war against itself,
and poweress as factious n fainting yielding,
yet knowing there is no mercy in reserve for
| wheels; toling ever with Ixion's sweat and
Ixion's futility; the waters rise, they strangle
me, yet ever | climb painfully up the face of
the cliff, to get higher? Why resist them, oh
my soul? They will come again--they will
rise ever until they overwhelm me. There is
| no dove winging near, nor no Ark ahoat Why
| do | struggle? Come, my sweet
releaser, come! The grapes are
pluckt; the Simeon hath Slapped the vines; =
only thistles abide now-food for asses.
l am not Nebuchadnezzar if / stay starve.
And, if stay, what now shames will
come to sour me; now, it's the i'm
pressible clay to morrow, hard as
flint. Then, twill need the thunderbolt to rive
the maice-irozen mass Away,
then y If | go on, the sin of shame
is banished what now tortures, comes to be
proudly dwelt on; malice fills my brain,
pride steels my spine, robes me in painted
purple, till, at the time when shall dare assert
myself, forgetting this--just when the false mob
shout, too--the pain will go through me like a
white hot sword, and / shall fall like Herod,
prey to loathsome worms, bloated, and burst
ing all asunder, like sef-stung viper \
Why became Saul king? Had ne died now,
when humble, we should not squander
guilt. Now, you come in with your
| Perhapses. Friend, | know the song. For in
stance-wait; tomorrow brings new chances
with it, new hopes, perhaps. Ave. wait To-
morrow brings the trump of Judgment, perhaps,
and the blackened sun, sackcloth hung, the
| bloody moon, the trembling stars so, | am
| spared the trouble Of my own exit, and shall go
ont in goodly, Cody company
shall no more have a tomb and churchly sepul-
ture in that case, than if cut my own throat
now. Thither leads your Perhaps, you see. \ X
All life is emphatic failure, perceive, and yet,
| have done all the task that was set
me-bunglngly, and in mine own clumsy fash
ion, of course, yet-'tis done. Bred some ideas
In brains, gotten me children, made q woman
miserable, created envy, reused men even to
hatred, crushed some egg-shells of simpletons
who trusted-been an example, also, to point
a moral and adorn tale even given new
word to the language, they tell me; and also
have suffered some, thanks to a heart of mush,
and some quite active maggots that infest my
brain So deem my work done
/ can hang up my harp, straighten out
| my limbs, and compose myself No marble,
| sexton, no urn, no epitaph. Dig
deep, else the dogs may quarrel round me,
cheating the worms and, round up, say
eighteen inches, two spades high, and sod it
with the green thin-bladed grass that grows
under some old cherry tree. So.
Nunc, dimitte!
Would he really have done it His face was
set in resolute lines his eye cold and stern
his mouth curled in desperate sneering way.
And he had risen; he had planted feet firm
he had uncorked the vial, and it was at his lips.
There was some selfassertion there he had
gotten so far that we may say, ALMosT-but,
the God who waited on Sodom and Gomorrah
the God who sent His prophet to Nineveh the
N~1 L u O.. Al IL
radiance of the Cross on Calvary might quench
the glare of the Sword that famed at Edens