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from thirty to forty thousand francs, which was still sufficient for the support of that rank which she maintained. Those persons, however, who had accompanied her from Europe either died or left her; the friendship of the Arabs, which requires to be constantly kept up, either by presents or by dissimulation, began to abate; the reports she received from them were less frequent, and Lady Hester soon became the isolated being that I found her; and it was under these circumstances that the heroic temper of her disposition showed itself, and proved all the constancy and resoluteness of her spirit. She never thought of retracing her steps; she did not give one regret to the world or to the past; she did not sink under abandonment or misfortune, the perspective of old age, or the forgetfulness of the living; she dwelt alone, where she now still remains, without books or journals, without letters from Europe, without friends, or even slaves, who were attached to her person; surrounded merely by some negresses, some black slave children, and a certain number of Arab peasants to take charge of her garden and horses, and to watch over her personal safety. It is generally supposed, and the reports which I have heard induce me to believe, that her supernatural strength of spirit and resolution is shown not only in her general character, but in her belief in certain exalted religious ideas, wherein the illuminism of Europe is mingled with oriental fancies, and more particularly with the mystic wonders of astrology. However this may be, Lady Stanhope bears a great name in the east, and is a great wonder in Europe. Finding myself so near to her, I was anxious to see her: her dream of solitude and meditation had so much apparent sympathy with my own thoughts, that I was glad of an opportunity of verifying in what our ideas approached to each other. But nothing is more difficult than for an European to be admitted to her she refuses all communication with English travellers, with women, and even with the members of her own family. therefore had but little hope of being presented to her, and I possessed no letter of introduction. Knowing, however, that she still kept up some distant communications with the Arabs of Palestine and Mesopotamia, and that a recommendation from her hand might prove of great use to me among these tribes, in my future pilgrimages, I determined on sending the following letter to her by an Arab :
LIKE you, a traveller and a stranger in the east, coming but to view the spectacle of nature, her ruins, and the works of the Almighty, I have just arrived in Syria with my family; and I shall count as among the most interesting days of my journey, the one in which I shall have known that woman who is the wonder of that eastern land which I am visiting,
We left at four o'clock. I was accompanied by my friends, a guide, and a servant; we were all mounted on horseback. We soon passed through a wood of magnificent firs, originally planted by the Emir Fakardia, on a lofty promontory, from which the view extended on the right over the stormy sea of Syria, and on the left over the magnificent valley of Leban,-an admirable point of view, wherein the beauties of western nature, the vine, the fig-tree, the mulberry-tree, and the pyramidal poplar, were united with the slender lofty columns of the eastern palm-tree, the leaves of which were thrown by the wind like large plumes upon the deep blue of the firmament. Some distance on we entered into a desert space of red sand, that had accumulated in large and moving waves, like those of the sea. There was a strong breeze, and the wind furrowed, ruffled, and fluted the waves of sand as it would have furrowed the waves of the sea. The sight was a new and a sad one: it was like an apparition of the vast and real desert that I was so soon to traverse. No trace of men or animals subsisted on this undulating arena; we were guided only by the moanings of the sea on the one side, and by the shining summits of the mountains on the other.
We soon came upon a
road, or causeway, strewn with enormous blocks of angular-shaped stones. This road, which fol lows along the course of the sea even to Egypt, conducted us to a ruined house, the remains of an old fortified tower, wherein we passed the sombre hours of night, sleeping upon a rush mat, and wrapped up in our mantles. When the moon arose we remounted our horses. It was one of those nights when the heavens are glittering with stars, when the most perfect and profound serenity appears to rest in the ethereal depths which we contemplate from here below, but when nature around us seems to moan and tremble in fearful convulsions. The desolate aspect of the shore for the space of some leagues added to this pain
ful impression. We had left behind us, with the twilight, the beautiful shadowy declivities, and the rich verdant valleys amid the mountains. We afterwards came to a region of hills, covered from their base to the summit with black, white, and grey stones, the remnants of former earthquakes; whilst on our right and left the sea, which since the morning's dawn had been lifted by a rough tempest, rolled in loud and menacing waves, that we saw surging from afar, by the shadow which they cast before them, and, striking on the shore with a loud thunder-shock, threw in white masses the boiling spray on to the ridge of wet sands along which we were journeying, covering our horses' hoofs, and threatening to entrain us back with them. A moon, as brilliant as a winter's sun, threw sufficient light upon the sea to show to us its fury, yet with scarcely sufficient ray upon our road to assure us of the dangers of our journey. We soon afterwards saw the blaze of a fire spring up from the summit of the mountains, mingling with the white and sombre mists of morning, and throwing over the wide landscape that wan and faded light which is neither night nor day, which has not the lightness of the one or the serenity of the other, an hour painful alike to the eye and to the thoughts, a struggle between two contrary and opposing principles, of which nature often shows the afflicting image, and which oftener still we find within the depths of our own hearts. At seven in the morning, beneath a burning sun, we left Saïde, the ancient Sidon, which stretches out upon the waters like the glorious remembrance
of a past dominion; we now descended rough, torn, and naked declivities, which, after a while, rising from height to height, led us to that solitude for which with our eyes we searched in vain. As we advanced and rose over each elevation, we discovered a still loftier one before us: mountains were chained to mountains, leaving between each link dry and deep ravines, covered with large masses of grey and white rock-stones. These mountains were completely devoid of earth or vegetation; they were but skeleton hills, which the winds and the waters have beaten upon for ages past. It was not there that I expected to find the dwelling-place of a woman who had visited the world, and had the whole universe before her whereon to choose her home. From the summit of one of these rocks I saw a deeper and broader valley, surrounded on all sides by mountains of a more majestic, but less sterile character. From the middle of this valley the mountain of Dyioun arose, like the base of a large tower, surrounded by circular rocky edges, which, lessening as they arose, terminated in an esplanade of some hundred feet in extent, covered with a rich and verdant vegetation. A white wall, flanked by a kiosk at one of its angles, enclosed this verdant spot. This was the dwelling of Lady Hester. We reached it at noon. It had neither the aspect of an European or oriental residence, but resembled in its appearance those poorer convents of Italy and Spain situated upon the summits of the mountains, and belonging to the mendicant orders of monks. EPHON.
TEMPERANCE VERSUS INTEMPERANCE.
ARTICLE THE SECOND.
BUT the stock of wonders was not yet exhausted. Returning to the various objects which were still awaiting examination on the table, the company appeared to be particularly struck with the following. The pale, hard, shrunken liver of a drunkard; Hogarth's "Gin Alley;" "An Infallible Receipt," &c. To make a man divulge the secrets of his friend, let him take one glass more than his wont; to illustrate the doctrine of transmigration, let him repeat the dose, and his soul will pass into the body of some strange beast; to prove the existence of demons, let him repeat the dose again, and he will strikingly resemble the possessed swine, spoken of in Scripture, and well-nigh deserve, if not actually incur, the same fate a humiliating spectacle; or, Socrates* and Catot drunk: a picture of the first drunkard; * Hoc quoque virtutum quondam certamine magnum Socratem, &c.
They say, in this too, Socrates the wise,
+ Narratur et prisci Catonis, &c.
'Tis said, by use of wine repeated
with the quaint but striking motto, "Satan's Triumph; or, the Second Fall of Man;" and a representation of the contents of the drunkard's glass, as magnified by a moral microscope in the solar light of eternity, exhibiting nothing but a glass full of lucid flame, alive with knotted and writhing worms, more hateful than the imagination had ever conceived.
Two books remained to be noticed. The first proved to be a volume of the " Temperance Penny Magazine;" every page of which teemed with warnings against intemperance, and with encouragements to the opposite virtue. The other, to my great surprise, was an old book which I had just been reading,‡ and in the margin of which I had marked many interesting paragraphs: two or three, with the permission of the company, I proceeded to read :
"I can no better compare these cups, than to watering-pots, that water the garden of vices, which come up so thick and fast.
The great Evil of Health Drinking; or, a Discourse, &c. London: Printed for Jonathan Robinson, at the Golden Cross, in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1684 "
The drunkard, devil-like, is a sinner, who cannot be content to be wicked alone, but he must needs tempt others to the same wickedness also.
"Drunkenness is the greatest disgrace a man can put upon himself or others. Why shall it not be reputed to be as great a dishonour to be laid by the heels by this sin, as to be put in the stocks or a prison? Suppose a company of rude and impudent servants should combine to abuse their master, a person of noble birth, and great honour; to that end they should wheedle and gull him into a pleasant humour, make him very merry, and, when they have levelled him down to a famiňarity, they take his place, and play the master; they then put out one candle, and anon another, and then come the grooms and footmen, and paw upon him, and at last lay him under the table, or in a meaner place. Thus the divine reason is abused by the senses, and the inferiors being little better, or rather, in that, worse than brutes, make sport with their master.
“Again, imagine a noble person to have many graceful and useful servants under him, and if they be not true and officious to him, it is his fault, and not theirs; and this noble person being out of humour, he turns one out of his place, and then another, until he have left him none to help him: would it not be a very ignoble action? Would he not, when come to himself, repent, and do so no more? Is it not like this, when the noble reason and affections are depraved by lust, do serve his senses, and the members of his body, even those that were born with him, bred with him from the very cradle, went to school with him, lay in the same bed with him, and are as dear to him, when he is himself, as his very eye, hands, and feet; but he doth cast them off by the insinuation of wine; the eyes fail, the hands shake, the legs wave like reeds: neque pes, neque mens satis officium faciunt. And though they are next day taken home again, yet, for aught he knew, they were quite gone, never to be seen till the resurrection. It is a high offence to our glorious Creator; it perverts the end of our redemption; it unmans the man; and is a contempt of death, the grave, and hell itself. If men had any reverence for their God, Creator, Saviour, Sanctifier; if any honour for their own nature; if any sense of mortality, and of the reference this mortal life hath to eternal life, they would never leave it thus, throw away their time thus. How curious are men of their own pictures, of their children's faces and shapes, of the monuments of their ancestors! how enraged at the violation of their daughters! And will you, with your own hands, by the ungrateful abuse of plenty, deprive, defile, swill, and prostitute yourselves? What, if you were stripped, by your own servants, of your own clothes, and they should put on you their liveries or frocks, would you brook it? Yet a gentleman is a gentleman in the meanest garb;
but you are not men when you undress or put off sobriety. In a word, it is a great sin; and what if the Lord call you away while committing it ?"
Under the combined influence of this pointed appeal, and of the impressive circumstances which had preceded it, a series of resolutions, which the members had prepared for the occasion, were unanimously adopted, binding them forthwith to the conscientious observance of the strictest temperance, and to a strenuous endeavour to promote it in others. And as if to confirm them in these noble intentions, letters were read, either from those, or concerning those, who, having formerly numbered among their compotators, had been invited to join them in their present reformation. One of these letters was dated from a gaol; a second from a poor-house, imploring a trifle to enable the wretched writer to gratify his thirst for the poison which had already dragged its victim to the edge of the grave; a third imported that the person expected to write was at present an inmate of a lunatic asylum; and a fourth, dated from the bed of death, and signed with the palsied hand of death, contained this sentence: " A victim of intemperance, and one of your former companions, warns you-flee, flee from the fatal cup; at the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder. My breast, at this moment, is filled with these coiled and gnawing reptiles; my heart is compressed in their writhing folds; they have bred within me the worm that dieth not. Flee, flee from the fatal cup."
When the meeting was about to break up, I took the liberty of making the following remarks: "Gentlemen, were an account of the preternatural scenes which this room has witnessed tonight to be reported, the relation would be conBut wonderful as are the sidered an idle tale. sights which your eyes have seen, and the sounds which your ears have heard, could your senses have been adequately opened, you would have The whole perceived greater things than these. intelligent universe is interested in the proceedings of this evening. Angels have bent over you, a great cloud of invisible witnesses have encompassed you, God himself has approved and has recorded your vow in the book of his remembrance. Bnt though heaven approves, expect not to escape the ridicule of earth. On this subject allow me to quote a sentence or two from the author with whom I have already made you acquainted. Drinking of healths he speaks of as a prologue invented by the great enemy to introduce the tragic scenes of intemperance which so frequently follow. And it is most likely to deceive and take, because it hath the face of friendship, and the good looks of love and kindness. And he that dissents from it looks like some odd peevish humourist, an unhewn piece of moroseness, that will not fall in and close in the
square of society, and, therefore, is fitter to live by himself, and to keep home, than to come abroad. And if the dissent breed an argument, the consenters clearly carry it by the poll; and they that oppose it are judged to wrangle against points of honour, civility, breeding, good manners, good nature, yea, innocency, and the received custom of all sorts and qualities of welltempered men, men of great virtue and accomplishments. How ridiculous doth that odd man look that makes not one among them! as ridiculous as if he wore a high-crowned hat lined and faced with scruples, a deep ruff, and a fur gown; as if he were made up of scruples, formality, and seriousness.' This witness is true; and you must expect to prove it. So little progress have societies like yours made in England, and so little has the subject engaged the consideration even of what is called the religious world, that you will seldom be able to avow your principles with
out falling under the suspicions of the company. Looks of wonder will be exchanged, difficulties started, cases supposed. One will deem you an enthusiast with an hobby; another will fear that you have a crotchet in your head; and another accuse you of warring against social enjoyment. But persevere; you have a testimony within, and a record on high. Look upon yourselves as divinely appointed to the task. You are moral heroes, who deserve, and will ultimately receive, the thanks of the community. The time will come when, awaking as from a long and drunken dream, the entire people will form a grand, national Temperance Society. It will be your honour to be numbered among its founders."
The assembly broke up; and the members, who had never before met without leaving their humanity behind them, now departed with that humanity invested with a kind of divinity.
THE POWER OF RELIGION IN DEATH!
"WE have heard a great deal of those bril- | signation to the will of the Almighty; and even liant scintillations of intellect that sometimes a cheerfulness in contemplating the approaching cast a dazzling lustre round the dying couch. change. But as to any preternatural blazing-up Eloquent orations on this topic have been ad- of the expiring taper, at such moments, it is either dressed to audiences more disposed to swallow | sheer imagination in the by-standers, or a poetithe marvellous than investigate the probable! cal creation of after-thought. No rational or The whole is, in my opinion, an innocent Ro-physiological explanation of the phenomenon has mance, calculated to gratify the feelings-per- been attempted by the historians of these deathhaps flatter the pride-of the living, by throwing
a halo round the couch of the dead.
Every one knows how prone are the friends and spectators of the dying man, to mark each expression-treasure it up in the mind-and embellish it in the rehearsal. But the experienced physician, and the calm philosophic observer, reduce these exaggerations within the narrow and sober boundary of truth. Few have had the melancholy task of witnessing more death-bed scenes than myself, whether amid the storms and havoc of war, or in the quiet walks of peace. But no such coruscations of the mind have I ever beheld when the immortal spark was deserting its uninhabitable tenement. The phenomenon is contrary to nature and experience, and miracles I leave to those who prefer them to experimental truths.
"The alleged fact, though grossly exaggerated, has some foundation. In a very considerable number of instances, the dying man and woman retain possession of their mental faculties till within a very short period of their dissolution; and this depends on the nature and seat of the disease. Many maladies destroy life without materially disturbing the organ of the mind-the brain-till the last hour of existence. Pulmonary consumption is one of these, and the list is rather extensive. In such cases, we frequently observe a serenity of mind; a tranquillity; a placid re
bed illuminations! No, they have left them to the easy and convenient solution of supernatural agency, The explanation which I have given is founded on physical facts, and with the miraculous I have no concern.”
The above is an extract from Dr. James Johnson's recent work, "The Economy of Health," and we place it at the head of this article, because if he means by "the brilliant scintillations of intellect," the animated expression of hope and joy, uttered by many a Christian in the hour of death, we totally deny the assertion, that “such phenomena are contrary to nature and experience;" and because we think such a statement, however true it may be in all the instances which have passed under Dr. Johnson's personal observation, it ought not to go forth to the world that the influence of the Gospel, emphatically the religion of immortality, is altogether powerless when its consolations are most needed; and that those who have maintained the contrary in their eloquent orations, have palmed upon their hearers as facts the creations of a poetical fancy. We doubt not but that there have been exaggerated accounts of death-bed scenes; where, nevertheless, piety has not only sustained, but heightened the spirit with the glory of an anticipated heaven; and we regret that things so solemn are sometimes produced for the mere purpose of effect; yet we are prepared to show that it is
both agreeable to nature and experience, that Christianity, sincerely embraced, and exerting its uncontrolled influence in forming the character, should subdue and ameliorate all those considerations which render death really formidable, and which invest it with its peculiar terrors; and that it should, moreover, inspire the sinking heart with joyful confidence, and animate the quivering lips with adoring praise.
Christianity, indeed, seems to have been constructed by its Divine Author with the especial view of destroying death, as well as of him that hath the power of death, that is the devil. And when the Son of God left the cross for the throne, it was announced in heaven, and proclaimed on earth, as his distinguishing achievement, entitling him to universal and everlasting renown, "He hath abolished death."
Christianity supplies all that knowledge which as a dependent, guilty, and dying creature, is necessary to make me happy; it supplies all the principles which, in their direct tendency, raise me above the fear, the agony, and the consequences of death; it furnishes me with superadded support in the divine consolations which it ever holds in reserve as a cordial for the fainting spirit in the dying hour.
to a universal and upright obedience. The influence of this religion in death will be proportioned to its light, its vigour, its spirituality, and activity, at the moment when the awful season arrives. In instances where it has been progressive, as the light "shining more and more unto the perfect day," the approach of death produces neither alarm nor surprise. "I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord," was the exclamation of the Patriarch as he bowed his head and meekly yielded up the ghost.
It is not in the power of death even to interrupt the communion of the soul with its God; nor suspend for a moment his paternal care and all-sufficient consolations. Death forms no break in the course, the comfort, the joy, and the energy of the Christian life,-that life which is hid with Christ in God. If we take a more direct view of the influence of religion in death, that which is both consistent with its own tendency, and the nature and constitution of man, as sincerely, habitually, and increasingly brought under its power, we shall find that it is exerted in rendering death the consummating act of obedience-not only the last of a series, but the crowning act. "Lord Jesus, into thy hands I commend my spirit."
In whatever view we contemplate death, Chris- Religion irradiates the last scene with the tianity is its mighty and infallible antidote. Is it graces, and virtues peculiarly suited to its awful a natural evil? it is compensated by an endless solemnity. In death religion has to exert its life. Is it the consequence of the Divine displea- power over a new train of circumstances. Its sure? it is mitigated by a revelation of the Divine most subtle and dangerous competitors are, in mercy. Is it the penalty of sin? the Gospel deed, retiring from the field. Health, and the proclaims pardon and salvation through the blood buoyancy of the spirits, which so often invite of atonement. Is it the subject of instinctive temptation, the ardour of the passions, which dread and terror? the Gospel altogether changes hurries us from God,-the pride of life, which is its character; under its influence it becomes not not of the Father, the allurements of the world, only a conquered foe, but a most munificent bewhich so often fascinate and destroy; all nefactor; it wears a heavenly smile, and instead these vanish at the approach of death; but of agonizing my heart with terror, it gently lulls others remain, sufficiently formidable to reit into a sweet repose. Such is the tendency quire the resisting and subduing power of the of Christianity, and such, too, is its express faith of the Gospel. The mind is left to design. But in order to this, it must be embraced; struggle with bodily pain; but this is soothed it must form the character, its doctrines and by a peculiar infusion of the spirit of Christ, principles must be embodied in the life. It -a spirit of holy resignation to the will of Heaven. must, in fact, become religion-a personal dis"O!" said one, a youth aged only tinction as well as a doctrinal system. In the twenty-one years, when conflicting with the last New Testament, the Gospel is Christianity-in enemy. "when I have most pain in my body, I the believing heart, it is religion. And in this have most comfort in my soul. What is all that view how are we to understand it, what does it. I have gone through to what Christ suffered? comprehend? The mere connexion which we When he, in the extremity of his pain, cried, 'I may have with any particular church, or invisible thirst!' he had none but enemies about him ; form of Christianity, is not of the essence of re- and they gave him vinegar to drink; but when ligion; nothing short of the full effect of the I am thirsty, every one is contriving the most Gospel upon a human soul can fit that soul for its salutary and pleasant draughts for me. I would eternal change. This grand distinction of human not change condition with the greatest monarch character implies illumination of mind, renovation in the world. I do not doubt but that there is of heart, and a practical, growing, and habitual love in the bottom of this cup. It is bitter in conformity to the Divine standard, as it regards the mouth; however, for all that, I would not the faith which believes, the hope which antici- go a moment before God's time is fully come; pates, and the operation of both in the whole and I am sure that when all is over, I shall adore round of divine and human obligation, prompting the wisdom and mercy of this dispensation,"