Letitia Elizabeth Landon

“ Our youth recalled, when we are no longer young—our hopes brought back again, but side by side with the knowledge that they were unfulfilled—our dreams, but attended by no accomplishment—feelings, the ghosts of themselves—and love risen, as it were, from the tomb, to meet us with a bitter and subtle mockery."
"You take too dark a view," answered Francesca; "the first fierce agony of grief gone by, it soothes us to dwell upon the memory of the departed. It sanctifies and purifies the heart, to know that it has one sad and sacred spot, unvisited by commoner cares and meaner sorrows. ”

“ I shall think of you, pray for you; and if in after years one gentle feeling, one mournful remembrance, should arise, I implore you to dwell upon them. They will be dear in that after world where alone we may hope to meet again. God bless you, my father!—you cannot dream how at this moment my heart yearns towards you. When the first anger is over, you will believe in the sorrow which dictates these last words of farewell. Again, God bless you!
⁠"Francesca."
She folded the scroll, and her tears fell fast upon it, and her hand trembled so that the name of Lord Avonleigh was almost illegible. ”

“ My world is in the afar-off and the hereafter,—to them I leave it. Still, the spirit's wing will melt in the feverish exertion, and the lofty aspiration grovel for a time dejected on the earth. Where are the lips from which words have not, at some period or another, escaped in all the bitterness of discontent?—such moods are the key-notes of universal sympathy; and it matters little whether the worn-out feeling, or the exhausted imagination, produced that melancholy, which is half apathy, half mournfulness.
Day after day passed by, and Francesca felt the burden of time more insupportable. ”

“ Life is but a trial; and wherefore was I to receive my reward before the time? But, ah! my friend, a woman may well be forgiven for the passionate sorrow with which she sees the empire of the heart pass away from her. Is it a light thing to discover that you are poor, where you deemed that the most precious riches were garnered?—to find what had seemed to you like fate, treated as a trifle and a toy?—to think that affection, which gathered pride from its imperishable nature, is yet dependent on such slight circumstances?—the discovery, too, how much you have overrated your own power? ”

“ No bells, musical in their gladness, swelled upon the hushed air—no kindly gratulations came cheerful from joyful lips; and when Evelyn took Francesca's hand in his—now his own—his bride before the face of Heaven—he started at the marble coldness of the touch. Surely the shadow of eternity and the chill of the surrounding graves were upon her at that moment! She roused herself to say a few words of affectionate farewell to Lucy. "The dream of my whole life," whispered she, "is now fulfilled. In poverty, in exile, in death, I am his for ever." ”

“ How unkind I have been to you, Francesca!—how I have envied and hated you!"
"Ah, Marie! I cannot understand your hate—what cause have I ever given? and envy—what could you find to envy in the lot of one who, save for yourselves, were a friendless orphan?"
"Don't say yourselves—say my sister, at once. Henriette has been your friend, not I; and as to envy—look at your face in yonder glass—wasted on you, I must say; for beauty, properly managed, is woman's power. ”

“ And again Marie hid her face in her hands, while Francesca was too oppressed to speak: she remembered the terror that had been upon her previous to Guide's death.
"We will not talk of it," she whispered, in a faint voice; "there are mysteries on which it is not good to dwell. I feel deep within my inmost heart, that now his rest is dreamless and unbroken."
For a little while longer they sat in silence, when suddenly the Comtesse, whose burst of passionate agony had subsided into almost unconscious weeping, snatched up a handful of the wild flowers on the grave—they were wet with her tears. ”

“ The danger of the palace was too imminent for neglect; and leaving the body, beside which Francesca was kneeling, Guido again ascended the steps of the tower; but the smoke had nearly dispersed, the blaze on the hearth was flickering and faint, while the pale moonlight shone quietly into that room of disappointment and death, as it had a thousand times shone on its lonely and deluding pursuits. Again he descended; and the same reddening pine-boughs that had lit his own and Francesca's countenance, in all the animation of their late discourse, now lighted the ghastly features of the dead. ”

“ Is it my fault that the beautiful no longer haunts my solitude? And you, my sister—you, who lesson me on endurance, your cheek is pale, and your step languid; even with you, how much has life lost its interest!"
"Why, Guido, should we conceal that each has suffered from bitter disappointment? We have early learnt the cold and harsh truth, that it is hard to brook the passing away of love—passing away, too, as ours has done, because it has been unworthily bestowed? Yet, surely not for that are we to fancy that existence has been given in vain. ”

“ I, too, have in me a gift of power and of loveliness; but it is power that will be subdued, and loveliness that will die undeveloped. I feel around me the iron weight of circumstance—I am oppressed by the heavy vapour of hopelessness—and lo! I go, and my place will be no more seen."
"But that I have no heart for chiding to-night," replied Francesca, "dear Guido, I should blame this weakness, which creates the misfortune it deplores. It is the adverse circumstance that gives the triumph. Were I a man, I should delight in difficulties—I should desire toil, exertion, and obstacles. ”

“ Nearer and nearer it droops—every hour seems to hasten their union. It comes, but it is brought by death; the leaves fall on the treacherous mirror; and, lo! the likeness which they have worshipped has perished with themselves—fit emblem of that passion for the ideal which haunts the tender and the imaginative mind through life, ever desired, and never realised. And who is there that, at some time or other, has not devoted the hope and the dream of life to a shadow?
Close beside a tranquil pool, for the moonbeams melted harmoniously into its quiet depths, was an old tree. ”

“ I am so little accustomed to happiness, that I tremble in its presence."
"I would rather, my dearest! believe that the future owed the past a debt. Many, many years are before us—years of tender watchfulness, of mutual hope, of devoted love. I would that the old tales were true, which held, that life had its annals in those stars which are now looking down upon us, and that I had an enchanter's skill, and could bid them reveal from their shiny depths the truth and worship of a heart that henceforth encircles you with itself. The strength of my love communicates itself. ”

“ Who has not paused upon some portion of their existence, and felt its burden greater than they could bear?—who has not looked back to the past with that passion of hopelessness, which deems that life can never more be what it has been,—with a consciousness that the dearer emotions are exhausted, while in their place have arisen but vacancy and weariness? You feel as if you could never be interested in any thing again—nay you do not even desire it;—your heart is divided between bitterness and indifference.
Francesca was conscious that this moral torpor increased upon her every hour. ”

“ She had not yet decided on her dress; and in half an hour's time Francesca's image was merged in the contemplation involving a decision, whether pale-yellow or lilac ribands would best suit her green dress.
Nothing is so soon lost in a crowd as affection; we are in too great a hurry to attach ourselves to anything or anybody. What bitter knowledge is brought us by experience!—what change is wrought in a few passing years! How do we grow cold, indifferent, and unbelieving—we, who were so affectionate, so eager, so confiding! Perhaps we expect too much from others. ”

“ Some go for the sake of their jewels—others, for themselves; and at the close of the festival, how few come away but worn out with lassitude and discontent!
Poor Francesca set out with these feelings. She had none of those pleasant, vague hopes which know not what they ask or what they seek, but which give such buoyancy and such gladness to youth. True, that her broken engagement with Evelyn was a relief; but it had been dearly bought, at the price of many illusions—of gratified vanity, of agreeable expectation, and an emotion the deepest and the tenderest that life can ever know. ”

“ Your young cavalier was the foremost of those brawlers. One dear to me as a son fell by his sword. Others of that merciless band have fallen before me one by one, but he has eluded my pursuit. God delivered him unto my wrath, and lo! the vain foolishness of a woman has again deferred that righteous judgment which I feel written in my inmost soul it is given unto me to execute!"
"Alas!" exclaimed Francesca; "I do not plead to excuse the cruel injuries to which an unnatural warfare has led; but, for your own sake, be merciful;—the heart knows no peace like forgiveness." ”

“ Again Francesca felt dispirited and discontented. "It is in vain," thought she, "to deceive myself: there is, there can be, no sympathy between us. He excludes me from his confidence—he takes no interest in my feelings. Ah! I see now that love is the delusion which the sage and the grave say it is. Perhaps I should be thankful that my eyes have so soon been opened to its vanity." Yet she did not feel very grateful. 'Tis pity for those whose standard of love is high and ideal; for them are prepared the downfall and the disappointment. The heart is the true sensitive plant—revolting at a touch. ”

“ Worn, wasted, crushed, as they are, how strong are the affections which bind us to our world! God of that Heaven to whose justice we bow, and on whose mercy we rely, surely those strong and dear feelings were not given in vain! Perhaps the gloomy barrier of the cold and desolate tomb once passed, the soul will be but more intensely conscious of that love which shadowed forth its existence in this life. Will those who have gone before await us on the other side?—and shall we be permitted to watch the arrival of those whom to leave made the only pang of death? ”

“ Guido gazed upon her earnestly. "Francesca, sister, dearest, you weep! Can it be that you will leave us?"
The girl raised her large eyes, yet shining with tears. Their affectionate reproach was answer enough.
"Alas!" continued he, "we are not happy as we were once wont to be; how indifferent are we grown to so much that we used to love! how altered we are, and in such brief space! No affection have we now for the snow-white doves, or the agile squirrel, in which we once took such delight; we feed them, but it is as a duty, not as a pleasure. ”

“ Lucy, rousing from her sleep, as the morning light fell upon her face, had sought her own chamber; she had entered unperceived by Francesca, who was kneeling in that last horror of having to look on a violent death. Approaching her friend, she was startled by the report of the carbines—scarcely aware of her own act, she had looked from the lattice, and saw Major Johnstone standing in the cold triumph of gratified revenge beside the body of a cavalier, whose life-blood was welling in a crimson flood to his feet. At a glance Lucy recognised Francis Evelyn. ”

“ I was fancying a lover for myself."
"A lover!" answered Guido, in a low and altered voice.
"Ay, such a lover as these degenerate times are little likely to produce; one who, as the princely Medici, or the gallant Doria, were the glory of their cities, would be the glory of his. One to whom superiority was a birthright, and success a comrade; brave, generous, aspiring; one to whom nothing could seem impossible."
"And what," exclaimed the youth, gazing upon her, "could be impossible with such inspiration? Love lends its own strength to the effort it excites. ”

“ Francesca's tears fell fast upon the scroll, and some time elapsed before either could speak. Guido was the first to break the silence.
"What a vain dream it is," exclaimed he, "which we call life! First comes the fever, and then the exhaustion. We wear ourselves out with hopes that, night after night, haunt a sleepless pillow—with daily exertions whereof we reap not the fruit. We love, and are unrequited—we believe, and are deceived; and from first to last, our existence is a mockery—the fulfilled hope and the realised desire the worst of all ”

“ She drew her cloak round her, and went forth; but the air did not revive her, the sunshine could not cheer her. The reaction of the over-excited spirits aided the moral depression, and she sought the churchyard. With the living she had no ties of sympathy—she had with the dead.
The grass was now long and green upon Guido's grave, and filled with small, pale wild flowers. A heavy cloud rested over the inclosed space, where the black yews waved dismally; while, far away, the sunshine reposed on the distant height. Francesca gazed upon it,—it was the very emblem of her fate. ”

“ It seems worst to die at night; the blackness throws its own gloom, and the damp on the ever cold midnight hour is as if disembodied spirits brought with them the chill of the grave, which only then they are permitted to quit. How long the minutes seem when sleep is banished by pain and anxiety! The single pale and shaded light, flinging round its fantastic shapes—that "visible darkness," enough to try the strongest nerves; and how much more so, when the bodily strength is worn down, and the imagination, excited by one ever-present dread, is wound up to admit all forms of fearful fantasy! ”

“ Since falsehood could wear such fair similitude of truth—since Francesca could deceive me—whom can I ever trust again? And, good God! to think that it was my own brother, from whom I had not kept back one thought—who knew how I prized the treasure of which he robbed me—that he should have turned away from me that affection I deemed so entirely my own! But, poor Francis! I must not think of him now with anger. Cut off in the pride of youth, he has dearly paid for all his faults and follies. ”

“ She knew as little what she asked as what she anticipated; still the future was before her, and all know what the future is to youth. Nothing more truly proves that life is but a trial—than the pleasures which depart, the sense of enjoyment which deadens, and the disappointments which spring up at every step in our pilgrimage. Could life preserve its illusions, who would be fit to die? Vanity of vanities is written on this side of the grave, but that we may more clearly discern that on the other shines the hope of immortality. ”

“ Falling in love is quite out of my way. I do not often offer up thanksgivings; but when I do, and turn in my mind what to be grateful about, I always give thanks for my indifference."
"You are selfish in your gratitude," said Louis.
"A very common case. But, truly, I have become too worldly, have too many other things in both head and heart, to find a place for love—it takes up too much room. But this I do say; if there be an intense, overpowering happiness in this world, it is first love, unsullied, unfrittered away by a thousand vain considerations—deep, fervent, and engrossing. ”

“ Attraction will be the secret of my society; and let who will be Queen of France, I shall be Queen in my own circle."
"And does not this anticipation of perpetual intrigue, anxiety, and exertion—this want of affection—this utter severing of all the deeper and dearer ties of life, weary you even in contemplation?"
"The deeper and dearer ties of life!—what ties can be so deep or so dear as those which bind me to myself? or what is there so very depressing in the anticipation of a brilliant and animated future?" ”

“ But when it was over, and the bridegroom approached to lead her forth, Francesca saw her change colour, and a slight shudder ran through her whole frame, and saw too that Marie's eyes were fixed on herself, as if recalling the resemblance of another, It was but for a moment; and she instantly turned to the Comte do Soissons, and took his offered hand, with a glad smile and a slight gesture, which made up with courtesy what it wanted in tenderness.
Nothing could exceed the ease and grace with which she accepted the congratulations of Louis. ”

“ About midnight he slept, exhausted with his own violence—slept beside the extended corse!
It was a fearful vigil that Francesca kept, for the office of watching in the chamber of death she had taken upon herself. How often, during her young life, had she looked upon the face of the dead!—it was now almost more familiar than the living. Again she marked the still repose, the calm, cold hue, the superhuman beauty, the look which is not of this world, here strongly contrasted by the troubled countenance of Lord Avonleigh. Sleep lacked the quiet of death. ”

“ Francesca, you are beautiful; but, oh! not beautiful like your mother; the shadow is on your brow, and the sadness in your smile, which tells of sorrow; and in your loveliness is the association of pain. But hers was joyous and fresh as the morning. No care had ever furrowed that smooth white brow; no tears, save those of gentle pity, had ever fallen from those clear and glad eyes. You are pale; but her cheek was the brilliant rose, untouched by the noontide sun—unstained by the heavy shower. ”

“ Every kind feeling in Francesca's heart rose to the surface; and she was just about to lean forward and speak, when a servant on horseback, leading another horse, rode up. Evelyn snatched the bridle hastily, flung himself on the steed, which pranced as if as impatient as himself, plunged the spurs in its side, and darted off like a man who strives to fly even from his very thoughts; while Francesca watched the rapidly receding figure in mute amazement.
There is something peculiarly attractive to a woman in any display of strong emotion, though she has herself no part in it. ”

“ A group of the noblest of the court crowded round; and as Francesca's gaze dwelt on the waving plumes, the golden embroidery, the many-coloured lights flashing from the profusion of gems, she involuntarily asked herself, "Can Marie, now the centre of this gorgeous circle, be the same with whom I have so often gathered wild flowers and wood strawberries?"
The star of Cardinal Mazarin's destiny had rays for many beside himself. Let a fortunate man do what he will for his own fate, he nevertheless works the most for the benefit of others. ”