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military sights and sounds； but this profession was then closed； as
I have already hinted； and； as I believe； it has since continued；
to those who； like myself； had no better claims to urge than the
services of a father。
My father； who； for certain reasons of his own； had no very high
opinion of the advantages resulting from this career； would have
gladly seen me enter the Church。 His desire was； however；
considerably abated by one or two passages of my life； which
occurred to his recollection。 He particularly dwelt on the
unheard…of manner in which I had picked up the Irish language； and
drew from thence the conclusion that I was not fitted by nature to
cut a respectable figure at an English university。 'He will fly
off in a tangent；' said he； 'and； when called upon to exhibit his
skill in Greek； will be found proficient in Irish； I have observed
the poor lad attentively； and really do not know what to make of
him； but I am afraid he will never make a churchman！' And I have
no doubt that my excellent father was right； both in his premisses
and the conclusion at which he arrived。 I had undoubtedly； at one
period of my life； forsaken Greek for Irish； and the instructions
of a learned Protestant divine for those of a Papist gossoon； the
card…fancying Murtagh； and of late； though I kept it a strict
secret； I had abandoned in a great measure the study of the
beautiful Italian； and the recitation of the sonorous terzets of
the Divine Comedy； in which at one time I took the greatest
delight； in order to become acquainted with the broken speech； and
yet more broken songs； of certain houseless wanderers whom I had
met at a horse fair。 Such an erratic course was certainly by no
means in consonance with the sober and unvarying routine of college
study。 And my father； who was a man of excellent common sense；
displayed it in not pressing me to adopt a profession which
required qualities of mind which he saw I did not possess。
Other professions were talked of； amongst which the law； but now an
event occurred which had nearly stopped my career； and merged all
minor points of solicitude in anxiety for my life。 My strength and
appetite suddenly deserted me； and I began to pine and droop。 Some
said that I had overgrown myself； and that these were the symptoms
of a rapid decline； I grew worse and worse； and was soon stretched
upon my bed； from which it seemed scarcely probable that I should
ever more rise； the physicians themselves giving but slight hopes
of my recovery： as for myself； I made up my mind to die； and felt
quite resigned。 I was sadly ignorant at that time； and； when I
thought of death； it appeared to me little else than a pleasant
sleep； and I wished for sleep； of which I got but little。 It was
well that I did not die that time； for I repeat that I was sadly
ignorant of many important things。 I did not die； for somebody
coming gave me a strange； bitter draught； a decoction； I believe；
of a bitter root which grows on commons and desolate places： and
the person who gave it me was an ancient female； a kind of
doctress； who had been my nurse in my infancy； and who； hearing of
my state； had come to see me； so I drank the draught； and became a
little better； and I continued taking draughts made from the bitter
root till I manifested symptoms of convalescence。
But how much more quickly does strength desert the human frame than
return to it！ I had become convalescent； it is true； but my state
of feebleness was truly pitiable。 I believe it is in that state
that the most remarkable feature of human physiology frequently
exhibits itself。 Oh； how dare I mention the dark feeling of
mysterious dread which comes over the mind； and which the lamp of
reason； though burning bright the while； is unable to dispel！ Art
thou； as leeches say； the concomitant of disease … the result of
shattered nerves？ Nay； rather the principle of woe itself； the
fountain…head of all sorrow coexistent with man； whose influence he
feels when yet unborn； and whose workings he testifies with his
earliest cries； when； 'drowned in tears；' he first beholds the
light； for； as the sparks fly upward； so is man born to trouble；
and woe doth he bring with him into the world； even thyself； dark
one； terrible one； causeless； unbegotten； without a father。 Oh；
how unfrequently dost thou break down the barriers which divide
thee from the poor soul of man； and overcast its sunshine with thy
gloomy shadow。 In the brightest days of prosperity … in the midst
of health and wealth … how sentient is the poor human creature of
thy neighbourhood！ how instinctively aware that the flood…gates of
horror may be cast open； and the dark stream engulf him for ever
and ever！ Then is it not lawful for man to exclaim； 'Better that I
had never been born！' Fool； for thyself thou wast not born； but to
fulfil the inscrutable decrees of thy Creator； and how dost thou
know that this dark principle is not； after all； thy best friend；
that it is not that which tempers the whole mass of thy corruption？
It may be； for what thou knowest； the mother of wisdom； and of
great works： it is the dread of the horror of the night that makes
the pilgrim hasten on his way。 When thou feelest it nigh； let thy
safety word be 'Onward'； if thou tarry； thou art overwhelmed。
Courage！ build great works … 'tis urging thee … it is ever nearest
the favourites of God … the fool knows little of it。 Thou wouldst
be joyous； wouldst thou？ then be a fool。 What great work was ever
the result of joy； the puny one？ Who have been the wise ones； the
mighty ones； the conquering ones of this earth？ the joyous？ I
believe not。 The fool is happy； or comparatively so … certainly
the least sorrowful； but he is still a fool： and whose notes are
sweetest； those of the nightingale； or of the silly lark？
'What ails you； my child？' said a mother to her son； as he lay on a
couch under the influence of the dreadful one； 'what ails you？ you
seem afraid！'
BOY。 And so I am； a dreadful fear is upon me。
MOTHER。 But of what？ There is no one can harm you； of what are
you apprehensive？
BOY。 Of nothing that I can express； I know not what I am afraid
of； but afraid I am。
MOTHER。 Perhaps you see sights and visions； I knew a lady once who
was continually thinking that she saw an armed man threaten her；
but it was only an imagination； a phantom of the brain。
BOY。 No armed man threatens me； and 'tis not a thing like that
would cause me any fear。 Did an armed man threaten me； I would get
up and fight him； weak as I am； I would wish for nothing better；
for then； perhaps； I should lose this fear； mine is a dread of I
know not what； and there the horror lies。
MOTHER。 Your forehead is cool； and your speech collected。 Do you
know where you are？
BOY。 I know where I am； and I see things just as they are； you are
beside me； and upon the table there is a book which was written by
a Florentine； all this I see； and that there is no ground for being
afraid。 I am； moreover； quite cool； and feel no pain … but； but …
And then there was a burst of 'gemiti； sospiri ed alti guai。'
Alas； alas； poor child of clay！ as the sparks fly upward； so wast
thou born to sorrow … Onward！
CHAPTER XIX
Agreeable delusions … Youth … A profession … Ab Gwilym … Glorious
English law … There they pass … My dear old master … The deal desk
… Language of the tents … Where is Morfydd？ … Go to … only once。
IT has been said by this or that writer； I scarcely know by whom；
that； in proportion as we grow old； and our time becomes short； the
swifter does it pass； until at last； as we approach the borders of
the grave； it assumes all the speed and impetuosity of a river
about to precipitate itself into an abyss； this is doubtless the
case； provided we can carry to the grave those pleasant thoughts
and delusions； which alone render life agreeable； and to which even
to the very last we would gladly cling； but what becomes of the
swiftness of time； when the mind sees the vanity of human pursuits？
which is sure to be the case when its fondest； dearest hopes have
been blighted at the very moment when the harvest was deemed
secure。 What becomes from that moment； I repeat； of the shortness
of time？ I put not the question to those who have never known that
trial； they are satisfied with themselves and all around them； with
what they have done； and yet hope to do； some carry their delusions
with them to the borders of the grave； ay； to the very moment when
they fall into it； a beautiful golden cloud surrounds them to the
last； and such talk of the shortness of time： through the medium
of that cloud the world has ever been a pleasant world to them；
their only regret is that they are so soon to q