I trust thou art no
impostor, and that thy revelation of blissful scenes of existence
beyond death and the grave, is not one of the many impositions which
time after time have been palmed on credulous mankind.
impostor, and that thy revelation of blissful scenes of existence
beyond death and the grave, is not one of the many impositions which
time after time have been palmed on credulous mankind.
Robert Forst
"[194]
Can it be possible, that when I resign this frail, feverish being, I
shall still find myself in conscious existence? When the last gasp of
agony has announced that I am no more to those that knew me, and the
few who loved me; when the cold, stiffened, unconscious, ghastly corse
is resigned into the earth, to be the prey of unsightly reptiles, and
to become in time a trodden clod, shall I be yet warm in life, seeing
and seen, enjoying and enjoyed? Ye venerable sages and holy flamens,
is there probability in your conjectures, truth in your stories, of
another world beyond death; or are they all alike, baseless visions,
and fabricated fables? If there is another life, it must be only for
the just, the benevolent, the amiable, and the humane; what a
flattering idea, then, is a world to come! Would to God I as firmly
believed it, as I ardently wish it! There I should meet an aged
parent, now at rest from the many buffetings of an evil world, against
which he so long and so bravely struggled. There should I meet the
friend, the disinterested friend of my early life; the man who
rejoiced to see me, because he loved me and could serve me. --Muir, thy
weaknesses were the aberrations of human nature, but thy heart glowed
with everything generous, manly and noble; and if ever emanation from
the All-good Being animated a human form, it was thine! There should
I, with speechless agony of rapture, again recognise my lost, my ever
dear Mary! whose bosom was fraught with truth, honour, constancy, and
love.
"My Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of heavenly rest?
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? "
Jesus Christ, thou amiablest of characters!
I trust thou art no
impostor, and that thy revelation of blissful scenes of existence
beyond death and the grave, is not one of the many impositions which
time after time have been palmed on credulous mankind. I trust that in
thee "shall all the families of the earth be blessed," by being yet
connected together in a better world, where every tie that bound heart
to heart, in this state of existence, shall be, far beyond our present
conceptions, more endearing.
I am a good deal inclined to think with those who maintain, that what
are called nervous affections are in fact diseases of the mind. I
cannot reason, I cannot think; and but to you I would not venture to
write anything above an order to a cobbler. You have felt too much of
the ills of life not to sympathise with a diseased wretch, who has
impaired more than half of any faculties he possessed. Your goodness
will excuse this distracted scrawl, which the writer dare scarcely
read, and which he would throw into the fire, were he able to write
anything better, or indeed anything at all.
Rumour told me something of a son of yours, who was returned from the
East or West Indies. If you have gotten news from James or Anthony, it
was cruel in you not to let me know; as I promise you on the sincerity
of a man, who is weary of one world, and anxious about another, that
scarce anything could give me so much pleasure as to hear of any good
thing befalling my honoured friend.
If you have a minute's leisure, take up your pen in pity to _le pauvre
miserable. _
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 194: Blair's Grave. ]
* * * * *
CLXXVIII.
TO LADY W[INIFRED] M[AXWELL] CONSTABLE.
[The Lady Winifred Maxwell, the last of the old line of Nithsdale, was
granddaughter of that Earl who, in 1715, made an almost miraculous
escape from death, through the spirit and fortitude of his countess, a
lady of the noble family of Powis. ]
_Ellisland, 16th December, 1789.
Can it be possible, that when I resign this frail, feverish being, I
shall still find myself in conscious existence? When the last gasp of
agony has announced that I am no more to those that knew me, and the
few who loved me; when the cold, stiffened, unconscious, ghastly corse
is resigned into the earth, to be the prey of unsightly reptiles, and
to become in time a trodden clod, shall I be yet warm in life, seeing
and seen, enjoying and enjoyed? Ye venerable sages and holy flamens,
is there probability in your conjectures, truth in your stories, of
another world beyond death; or are they all alike, baseless visions,
and fabricated fables? If there is another life, it must be only for
the just, the benevolent, the amiable, and the humane; what a
flattering idea, then, is a world to come! Would to God I as firmly
believed it, as I ardently wish it! There I should meet an aged
parent, now at rest from the many buffetings of an evil world, against
which he so long and so bravely struggled. There should I meet the
friend, the disinterested friend of my early life; the man who
rejoiced to see me, because he loved me and could serve me. --Muir, thy
weaknesses were the aberrations of human nature, but thy heart glowed
with everything generous, manly and noble; and if ever emanation from
the All-good Being animated a human form, it was thine! There should
I, with speechless agony of rapture, again recognise my lost, my ever
dear Mary! whose bosom was fraught with truth, honour, constancy, and
love.
"My Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of heavenly rest?
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? "
Jesus Christ, thou amiablest of characters!
I trust thou art no
impostor, and that thy revelation of blissful scenes of existence
beyond death and the grave, is not one of the many impositions which
time after time have been palmed on credulous mankind. I trust that in
thee "shall all the families of the earth be blessed," by being yet
connected together in a better world, where every tie that bound heart
to heart, in this state of existence, shall be, far beyond our present
conceptions, more endearing.
I am a good deal inclined to think with those who maintain, that what
are called nervous affections are in fact diseases of the mind. I
cannot reason, I cannot think; and but to you I would not venture to
write anything above an order to a cobbler. You have felt too much of
the ills of life not to sympathise with a diseased wretch, who has
impaired more than half of any faculties he possessed. Your goodness
will excuse this distracted scrawl, which the writer dare scarcely
read, and which he would throw into the fire, were he able to write
anything better, or indeed anything at all.
Rumour told me something of a son of yours, who was returned from the
East or West Indies. If you have gotten news from James or Anthony, it
was cruel in you not to let me know; as I promise you on the sincerity
of a man, who is weary of one world, and anxious about another, that
scarce anything could give me so much pleasure as to hear of any good
thing befalling my honoured friend.
If you have a minute's leisure, take up your pen in pity to _le pauvre
miserable. _
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 194: Blair's Grave. ]
* * * * *
CLXXVIII.
TO LADY W[INIFRED] M[AXWELL] CONSTABLE.
[The Lady Winifred Maxwell, the last of the old line of Nithsdale, was
granddaughter of that Earl who, in 1715, made an almost miraculous
escape from death, through the spirit and fortitude of his countess, a
lady of the noble family of Powis. ]
_Ellisland, 16th December, 1789.
