Felpham

“ Departing man and wandering bird,
In mercy mark us for his own,
And guide us to the land unknown.
But it is not Hayley that gives its glory to Felpham. The glory of Felpham is that William Blake was happy there for nearly three years. It was at Felpham that he saw the fairy's funeral. "Did you ever see a fairy's funeral, ma'am?" he asked a visitor. "Never, sir!" "I have! . . . I was walking alone in my garden; there was great stillness among the branches and flowers, and more than common sweetness in the air ”

“ If Hyde had ever had the purse, which more certainly disappeared with the rest of the property, he'd never have gone to that shed at all."
"We'll make the most of all that," said Felpham. "But I gathered, from what you said just now to Drillford, that you know more about this case than you've let out. If it's in Hyde's favour—"
"I can't tell you what I know," answered Viner. "I do know some strange things, which will all come out in good time. If we bring the murder home to the right man, Hyde of course will be cleared. I'll tell everything as soon as I can, Felpham." ”

“ Yes!" exclaimed Felpham. "He says he spent the night in a shed in the Harrow Road district. Now the things that were taken from Ashton's body are discovered in such a place—nay, the very place; for if you remember, Hyde particularized his whereabouts. What's the obvious conclusion? What can anybody think?"
"I see two or three obvious conclusions, and I think several things," remarked Viner. "I'll tell you what they are when we've seen Drillford. I'm not alarmed about this discovery, Felpham. I think it may lead to finding the real murderer." ”

“ Had she anything to do with the secret? It seemed to him that the confusion was becoming more confounded. But the first thing to do was to save Hyde. And he was relieved to see that Felpham jumped at Pawle's suggestion.
"Good!" said Felpham. "Of course, I'll have Hyde brought up at the inquest, and he shall tell his story. And we'll save these Australian chaps until Hyde's been in the box. I do wish Hyde himself could tell us more about that man whom he saw leaving the passage. Of course, that man is the actual murderer."
"You think that?" asked Viner. ”

“ Hayley’s verses and Blake’s designs were bitten in with stopping-out varnish on the pewter plate of the original from which the prints are taken.
In the designs setting out the misfortunes of a poor widow and the heroism of her little son he has given us one theme of natural scenery—a winding path, a little wood surmounted by bare folded downs—testifying to the invasion which the obvious beauty of Felpham had made on his artistic consciousness ”

“ If Hercules Buildings, Lambeth, had afforded Blake hints and types of spiritual [Pg 25] life and light, how much larger a vista must have opened to him at Felpham. He used to wander musing along the seashore, and more than once saw the yellow sands peopled by a host of souls long since departed from this earth—Moses and the Prophets, Homer, Dante, Milton: “all,” Blake said, “majestic shadows, gray but luminous, and superior to the common height of men.” ”

“ As one turns the pages one is fain to exclaim of the artist that he breathed the fine thin air of the mountain tops, that indeed he lived “in the high places of thought.”
I have an impression that Blake drew much of his inspiration from watching the ever-changing cloud forms of the sky. We know that his designs gained actually very little from the beautiful natural scenery of Felpham, that indeed Nature seemed to close round him like a wall. “Natural objects always did and do weaken, deaden, and obliterate imagination in me,” he wrote in his MS. notes to Wordsworth. ”

“ It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if the man turns out to be Nugent Starr."
"How did he come by such a straight tale, then?" asked Viner doubtfully.
"Carefully prepared—in case of need," declared Miss Penkridge as she tied her bonnet-strings with a decisive tug. "The whole thing's a plant!"
"That's what Felpham says," remarked Viner. "But—where are you going?" he broke off as Miss Penkridge, seizing an umbrella, started for the door. "Lunch is just going in."
"My lunch can wait—I've had a biscuit and a glass of sherry," asserted Miss Penkridge. ”

“ And as in the sun's eclipse we can behold the great stars shining in the heavens, so in this life eclipse have these men beheld the lights of the great eternity, burning solemnly and forever!
This was Flemming's reverie. It was broken by the voice of the Baron, suddenly exclaiming;
"An angel is flying over the house!--Here; in this goblet, fragrant as the honey of Hymettus, fragrant as the wild flowers in the Angel's Meadow, I drink to the divinity of thy dreams."
"This is all sunshine," said Flemming, as he drank. "The wine of the Prince, and the Prince of wines. ”

“ I know you better than you know yourself. There is something Faust-like in you; you would fain grasp the highest and the deepest; and `reel from desire to enjoyment, and in enjoyment languish for desire.' When a momentary change of feeling comes over you, you think the change permanent, and thus live in constant self-deception."
"I confess," said Flemming, "there may be some truth in what you say. There are times when my soul is restless; and a voice sounds within me, like the trump of the archangel, and thoughts that were buried, long ago, come out of their graves. ”

“ I wish to hear the sound of living voice or footstep near me,--to see a friendly and familiar face. In truth, if it be late at night, the reader as well as the writer of these unearthly fancies, would fain have a patient, meek-eyed wife, with her knitting-work, at his elbow."
Berkley smiled; but Flemming continued without noticing the smile, though he knew what was passing in the mind of his friend;
"The life and writings of this singular being interest me in a high degree. Oftentimes one may learn more from a man's errors, than from his virtues. ”

“ His voice had barely ceased, when a messenger came to Felim to tell him that a daughter was born to him, and on his heels came a procession of chanting women, bearing the babe on a flower-decked cushion. And all who saw the tiny thing, with milk-white skin, and locks "more yellow than the western gold of the summer sun," looked on her with the fear that even the bravest heart feels on facing the Unknown. ”

“ Tell me, my friend, have you no faith in this?"
"I have;" answered Flemming, and there was another pause. He then said;
"I have listened to you patiently and without interruption. Now listen to me. You complain of the skepticism of the age. This is one form in which the philosophic spirit of the age presents itself. Let me tell you, that another form, whichit assumes, is that of poetic reverie. Plato of old had dreams like these; and the Mystics of the Middle Ages; and still their disciples walk in the cloud-land and dream-land of this poetic philosophy. ”

“ A human voice broke his reverie. He looked, and beheld at a short distance from him, the athletic form of a mountain herdsman, who was approaching the spot where he lay. He was a young man, clothed in a rustic garb, and holding a long staff in his hand. When Flemming rose, he stood still, and gazed at him, as if he loved the face of man, even in a stranger, and longed to hear a human voice, though it might speak in an unknown tongue. He answered Flemming's salutation in a rude mountain dialect, and in reply to his questions said ”

“ He was never more mistaken in his life. The voice belonged to a beautiful being, it is true; but her beauty was different from that of any Madonna which Raphael ever painted; as he would have seen, had he waited till the lamps were lighted. But in the midst of his reverie and saint-painting, the landlord came in, andtold him he had found a chamber, which he begged him to go and look at.
Flemming took his leave and departed. Berkley went with him, to see, he said, what kind of a nest his young friend was to sleep in. ”

“ He found him in his parlour, sitting alone, with his psalm-book, and the reminiscences of a life of eighty years. As Flemming entered, he arose from the sofa, and tottered towards him; a venerable old man, of low stature, and dressed in a loose white jacket, with a face like Franklin's, his white hair flowing over his shoulders, and a pale, blue eye.
"So you are from America," said he. "But you have a German name. Paul Flemming was one of our old poets. I have never been in America, and never shall go there. I am now too old. I have been in Paris and in Rome. ”

“ It was for the moment a nymph, which sang to them in the voice of the waters.
"I am persuaded," said Flemming, "that, in order fully to understand and fell the popular poetry of Germany, one must be familiar with the German landscape. Many sweet little poems are the outbreaks of momentary feelings;--words, to which the song of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the gurgle of cool waters form the appropriate music. Or perhaps I should say they are words, which man has composed to the music of nature. ”

“ About that, too, she cares so little, that, out of sheer obstinacy, I become good-humored again, and then she smiles."
"I think we must confess, however," continued Flemming, "that all this springs from our own imperfection, not from hers. How beautiful is this green world, which we inhabit! See yonder, how the moonlight mingles with the mist! What a glorious night is this! Truly every man has a Paradise around him until he sins, and the angel of an accusing conscience drives him from his Eden. ”

“ Felsburg reared himself back in his chair at his desk with an expectant, eager look on his face. In the doorway at the top of the stairs appeared the man for whom he waited—a middle-aged man with slumped shoulders, in worn, soiled garments, and in every line of his harassed face expressing the fact that here stood a failure, mutely craving the pardon of the world for being a failure. ”

“ Here, in long rambles, sometimes with his hammer to examine minerals, collecting crystals, and endless varieties of felspar, in the favorite luxury of sea-bathing, or the perusal of books which we carried with us, he tasted a happiness known only by those who, amid the cares and conflicts of business, preserve unalloyed the love of nature and the pleasures of intellect. ”

“ Call to the soul, when man doth sleep,
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
And into glory peep!"
Such were Flemming's thoughts, as he stood among the tombs at evening in the churchyard of Saint Gilgen. A holy calm stole over him. The fever of his heart was allayed. He had a moment's rest from pain; and went back to his chamber in peace. Whence came this holy calm, this long-desired tranquillity? He knew not; yet the place seemed consecrated. He resolved to linger there, beside the lake, which was a Pool of Bethesda for him; and let Berkley go on alone to the baths of Ischel. ”

“ The village clock struck nine as they landed; and as Berkley was to depart early in the morning, he went to bed betimes. On bidding Flemming good night he said;
"I shall not see you in the morning; so good bye, and God bless you. Remember my partingwords. Never mind trifles. In this world a man must either be anvil or hammer. Care killed a cat!"
"I have heard you say that so often," replied Flemming, laughing, "that I begin to believe it is true. ”

“ The towers of the old Franciscan convent never looked so gloomily as then, though the bright summer sun was shining full upon them.
In his chamber he found Berkley. He was looking out of the window, whistling.
"This evening I leave Interlachen forever," said Flemming, rather abruptly. Berkley stared.
"Indeed! Pray what is the matter? You look as pale as a ghost!"
"And have good reason to look pale," replied Flemming bitterly. "Hoffmann says, in one of his note-books, that, on the eleventh of March, at half past eight o'clock, precisely, he was an ass. ”

“ Flemming answered in the affirmative.
"But a foreigner must find it exceedingly difficult to understand him," said the gentleman. "It is by no means an easy task for us Germans."
"I have always observed," replied Flemming, "that the true understanding and appreciation of a poet depend more upon individual, than upon national character. If there be a sympathy between the minds of writer and reader, the bounds and barriers of a foreign tongue are soon overleaped. If you once understand an author's character, the comprehension of his writings becomes easy." ”

“ Fehme, feminine, ‘criminal tribunal’ (in Westphalia formerly) , from Middle High German veime, feminine, ‘condemnation, punishment, secret tribunal,’ Gothic *faima, feminine, would, on the analogy of τέσσαρες, Gothic fidvôr, favour the connection with the root τι in Greek τίνω, ‘to atone for,’ derived from ki, ‘to punish, avenge’; Greek ποίνη, as a derivative of the same root, may have been formed with a different suffix from that which appears in Fehme. In spite of the late formation of the word, its origin is difficult to discover and uncertain. ”

“ Quietly and unresisting goes the little child, and in its countenance no grief, but wonder only; while the other children are weeping and stretching forth their hands in vain towards their departing brother. A beautiful design it is, in all save the skeleton. An angel had been better, with folded wings, and torch inverted!
And now the sun was growing high and warm. A little chapel, whose door stood open, seemed to invite Flemming to enter and enjoy the grateful coolness. ”

“ On the following day the Fellah went forth betimes to plough whilst the boy, delaying purposely at home, hid himself behind the door when behold, the lover entered to her, and she said, “’Tis my desire that we forge a story whereby to slay my husband and Master Scald-head the servant.” Quoth he, “How wilt thou slay them?” and quoth she, “I will buy for them poison and make it up in cooked food, so they may devour it together and perish together; after which we will abide, I and thou, making merry, nor shall the dead disturb us any more.” ”