LETTER XLIX. The Hon. Mr. HARRINGTON to the Rev. Mr. HOLMES.
BOSTON.
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Accumulated &longs;orrows
continue to break over my devoted head.
Harriot is at times deprived of her rea&longs;on,
and we have no expectation of her recovery—
my &longs;on is deeply affected—he &longs;eems
&longs;trangely di&longs;ordered.
REVOLVING in my mind all thefe things,
and the unhappy affair that led to them,
the whole train of my pa&longs;t life returned fre&longs;h
upon my mind. Pained with the disagreeable
picture, and oppre&longs;&longs;ed with the weight
of my afflition, I funk down to fleep:
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The&longs;e circum&longs;tances had &longs;o &longs;trongly impressed
my imagination that they produced the
following Dream—My blood is chilled with
horrour as I write.
METHOUGHT I &longs;uddenly found my&longs;elf in
a large, open field, wa&longs;te and uncultivated—
here I wandered in a &longs;olitary manner for
&longs;ome time—grie&longs; &longs;eized my heart at the awful
appearance of the place, and I cried aloud—
“How long &longs;hall I travel here, alone
and friendle&longs;s—a du&longs;ky mi&longs;t &longs;wims before
my fight, and the ob&longs;cure horizon &longs;eems only
to inclo&longs;e this di&longs;mal wild!” Having advanced
a few &longs;teps, I thought a light at a distance
appeared to my doubtful view. Faint
with fatigue, I approached it, and had the
&longs;atisfaction to behold a per&longs;on of the mo&longs;t
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benign a&longs;pect—a quiet ferenity was painted
on his brow, and happine&longs;s ineffable beamed
from his divine countenance—Joy leaped
in my bo&longs;om, and in the ec&longs;tacy of passion
I endeavoured to cla&longs;p the ble&longs;&longs;ed &longs;pirit
to my heart; but it vani&longs;hed in my embrace.
“TEACH me, ble&longs;&longs;ed &longs;hade,” &longs;aid I, with
a trembling voice—“ teach me to find the
habitations of men—What do I here?—
Why am I doomed to explore the barren
bo&longs;om of this baleful de&longs;ert?” “This,” returned
the &longs;pirit, in a voice, which, while it
commanded veneration and love, &longs;truck
awe and terrour into my &longs;oul—“this is not
the habitation of the &longs;ons of mortality—it is
the place appointed to receive the &longs;ouls of all
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men, after they have re&longs;igned the bodies they
animated on earth. Tho&longs;e who have violated
the laws of rea&longs;on, humanity, religion,
and have di&longs;honoured their God, here meet
the puni&longs;hment due to their crimes.
“ATTEND me, therefore, and view the
condition of tho&longs;e thoughtle&longs;s &longs;ouls, who, a
few days ago, were upon earth immerfed in
plea&longs;ure, luxury and vice—Regardle&longs;s of futurity,
and unprepared for their eternal summons
to another world—and who per&longs;i&longs;ted
in the delight of their own eyes in oppo&longs;ition
to the divine law, and deaf to the voice of
reclaiming virtue. The&longs;e, the &longs;ons of folly
and riot, are &longs;mitten by the angel of death,
while they are yet drinking of the bowl of
vice—while the words of bla&longs;phemy yet
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well upon their tongues. And when
their unhappy &longs;pirits &longs;ink to the&longs;e insernal
regions, their &longs;urviving companions
rehear&longs;e their funeral panegyricks—the prai&longs;e
of one is, that he could drink the longeft—
the merit of another, that he could &longs;ing a
good &longs;ong—a third &longs;ecures his &longs;ame by being
excellent in mimickry and bu&longs;&longs;oonery—
How unhappy mu&longs;t he be, who leaves no
other te&longs;timony of his u&longs;efulne&longs;s behind
him!
“HOW different is the fate of the good
man: While upon earth his life is employed
in the cau&longs;e of virtue—The happine&longs;s he
be&longs;tows on tho&longs;e around him is reflected back
with tenfold reward; and when he takes
rank in that happy place, where there is
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fulnefs of joy, and leaves the world of mankind,
what numbers are joined in the general
concern for his lo&longs;s—The aged, while
they prepare for the fame journey, delight to
dwell on his good actions—the virgin &longs;trews
flowers on his grave, and the poet con&longs;umes
the midnight oil to celebrate his virtues.”
THERE was &longs;o much benignity in every
word and action of my attendant, that I
found my&longs;elf imperceptibly attached to him.
My attention to his di&longs;cour&longs;e had prevented
me from ob&longs;erving the progre&longs;s we had made—
for we had arrived at a place encircled
with high walls—a great gate, at the command
of my guide, in&longs;tantly flew open—
“Follow me,” &longs;aid he—I tremblingly obeyed.—
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MY ears were in&longs;tantaneou&longs;ly filled with
the faint cries of tho&longs;e here doomed to receive
the rewards of their demerits. Looking
earne&longs;tly forward, I beheld a group of
unhappy wretches—I ob&longs;erved a per&longs;on who
was continually tormenting them—he held
in one hand a whip, the la&longs;hes of which
were compo&longs;ed of adders, and the &longs;tings of
&longs;corpions; and in the other a large mirrour,
which, when he held up to the faces of the
tormented, exhibited their crimes in the mo&longs;t
flagrant colours, and forced them to acknowledge
the ju&longs;tne&longs;s of their puni&longs;hment.
“The&longs;e,” &longs;aid my guide, “who are scourged
with a whip of &longs;corpions, and who &longs;tart
with horrour at the reflection of their deeds
upon earth, are the fouls of the Gambler—
the Prodigal—the Dueli&longs;t, and the Ingrate.
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“THOSE whom you see yonder,” continued
he, “tho&longs;e wa&longs;ted, emaciated &longs;pirits,
are the &longs;ouls of the Envious—they are
doomed to view the mo&longs;t beautiful fruit,
which they can never ta&longs;te, and behold pleasures
which they can never enjoy. This
puni&longs;hment is adjuded them becau&longs;e mo&longs;t
of tho&longs;e vile pa&longs;&longs;ions, by which men &longs;uffer
them&longs;elves to be ruled, bring real evil, for
promi&longs;ed good.
“FOR this rea&longs;on the allwi&longs;e Judge hath
ordered the &longs;ame pa&longs;&longs;ions &longs;till to inflame
tho&longs;e gho&longs;ts, with which they were po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed
on earth—Ob&longs;erve you de&longs;picable crew!—
behold the &longs;in of Avarice!—tho&longs;e fordid
gho&longs;ts are the &longs;ouls of Mi&longs;ers—Lo! they
eye their delightful bags with horrid plea&longs;.
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ure; and with a gha&longs;tly &longs;mile, brood over
their imaginary riches. Unable to carry
their wealth about with them, they are confined
to one &longs;pot, and in one po&longs;ition. This
infernal joy is the &longs;ource of their tortures,
for behold them &longs;tart at every &longs;ound, and
tremble at the flitting of a &longs;hade. Thus
are they doomed to be their own tormentors—
to pore over their gold with immortal
fear, apprehen&longs;ion, and jealou&longs;y, and to
guard their ideal wealth with the tears of
care, and the eyes of eternal watchfulne&longs;s.
“BEHOLD here,” continued my guide;
“the mi&longs;erable divi&longs;ion of Suicides!”—
“Unhappy they!” added I, “who, repining
at the ills of life, rai&longs;ed the &longs;acrilegious
&longs;teel again&longs;t their own bo&longs;oms! How vain
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the reiterated wi&longs;h to again animate the
breathle&longs;s clay—to breathe the vital air—
and to behold the cheering luminary of
Heaven!”—“Upbraid me not—O my father!”
cried a voice—I looked up, and
thought my &longs;on appeared among them—but
immediately turning from &longs;o &longs;hocking a
&longs;pectacle, I &longs;uddenly beheld my once loved
Maria—“O delight of my youth! do I behold
thee once more!—Let me hide my
&longs;orrows in thy friendly bo&longs;om.” I advanced
towards her—but &longs;he flew from me with
&longs;corn and indignation—“O &longs;peak! Maria!
&longs;peak to me!” She pointed with her finger
to a group of &longs;pirits, and was out of &longs;ight in
a moment.
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“LET me,” &longs;aid my conductor, “prepare
you for a more dreadful &longs;ight.” The increasing
melancholy, and affecting gloom of
the &longs;ituation, forboded &longs;omething terrifying
to my &longs;oul—I looked toward the place where
Maria had pointed, and &longs;aw a number of
&longs;ouls remote from any divi&longs;ion of the unhappy.
In their countenances were depicted
more angui&longs;h, &longs;orrow and de&longs;pair—I
turned my head immediately from this
dreadful &longs;ight, without di&longs;tingui&longs;hing the nature
of their torments. Quivering with horrour,
I inquired who they were—“The&longs;e,”
an&longs;wered my guide, with a &longs;igh, “are the
mi&longs;erable race of SEDUCERS.—Repentance
and &longs;hame drive them far from the re&longs;t of
the accur&longs;ed. Even the damned look on
them with horrour, and thank fate their
crimes are not of &longs;o deep a die.”
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HE had hardly fini&longs;hed, when a demon
took hold of me, and furiou&longs;ly hurried me
in the mid&longs;t of this unhappy group—I was
&longs;o terrified that it immediately rou&longs;ed me
from my &longs;leep.—
EVEN now, while I write to you, my good
friend, my hand trembles with fear at the
painful remembrance—Yet
—'Twas but a dream, but then
So terrible, it &longs;hakes my very foul.—
Farewel!
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Brown, William Hill, 1765-1793 [1789], The power of sympathy, or, The triumph of nature, Volume 2 (Isaiah Thomas & Co., Boston) [word count] [eaf034v2T].
