 | Idomen, or, The vale of Yumuri |  |
PREFACE.
“Idomen, or the Vale of Yumuri,” is a story which,
on account of its subject and tendency, not only admits
of a preface, but absolutely demands one.
To such as read for mere amusement, it may seem,
perhaps, of little value; but the physician and physiologist,
or the theologist and metaphysician, may, perhaps,
be induced to look at it more than once; because every
one of its pictures is drawn and coloured from nature,
and of the truth of “The Confessions,” those who read
them may be as well assured as of the beatings of their
own hearts.
There are few deeds within the power of mortal perpetration,
which excite more grief and horror, than suicide;
and though lightly passed over by the thoughtless,
because of its frequent occurrence, no one who reflects or
feels at all can deem it a subject unworthy of inquiry or
attention.
To see, as it were, the inmost soul of one who bore all
the impulse and torture of self-murder without perishing,
is what can very seldom be done: very few mortals, indeed,
have memories strong enough to retain a distinct
impression of past suffering; and few, although possessed
of such memories, have the power of so describing their
own sensations as to make them apparent to another.
To say nothing of anxiety respecting a future existence,
how intense must be the anguish which can entirely
overcome our natural hopes and love of life! and how
much keener still the torment which can surmount our
fear of that dismal and repulsive process which, in the
present state of things, death must ever involve.
The elegant Greek, or the Roman who became his imitator,
might easily resolve on a change of being: a form
cold, but still beautiful, was laid on a fragrant pile, and
covered with flowers and perfumes; a vivid flame dissolved
what was still lovely; while the pure unsullied ashes,
in an urn of some precious material, were kept, to be
pressed to the heart of some friendly survivor, who believed
(and perhaps with reason), that the dear spirit, or
its manes, was still to witness of his devotion.[1]
In some instances, even—as was the case with the
pious Artemisia, the ashes of the once adored were swallowed
in [2]
the same cup which had touched his lips while
might mingle with the blood which had glowed in
the beauty of his presence.
But, as we live now, reptiles and rottenness must be
thoughts synonymous with death. And how many beautiful
forms have, voluntarily, been given over, even to
these, merely to escape from a present misery, too intense
to be long endured.
However self-immolation may be made fascinating by
philosophers, let those who meditate on a deed so dreadful
in itself and its consequences, be restrained, if possible,
by looking at the “Confessions” of Idomen. Let
them observe the excess of her pain, and the nature and
process of its cure.[3]
I must here be permitted to wander a little from my
subject. This nineteenth century is called, by many,
“the age of improvement;” “the great developer of intellect;”
“the age of morality and of religion” (Heaven grant
that the eulogy may be made true, if not exactly so at
present.) Much is said about “utility,” but (let me most
humbly ask), of what utility is any thing on earth, unless
it can be made conducive to the virtue and happiness of
earth's inhabitants?
The beings of this sphere come into an existence, on
it, in a state of unqualified helplessness. No infant could
long survive his birth, unless “Love” stood near to preserve
him. The new-born infant may be likened to Hope
—the newly-made corse to Despair. Should the form
nourished in hope be consigned, unthought of, to hope's
opposite?—Without love, the infant must perish; without
love, the corse must become not only “what the living
fear,” but what the living sometimes cannot touch
without danger of a most dreadful disease.[4]
Dissolved by a pure flame, the earthly dwelling of a
soul which must be immortal will join, immediately, that
celestial matter in which the planets move. How far
preferable, therefore, is flame, to either earth or water,
for the giving of “dust to dust,” as the sacred writings
enjoin!
When every stream of this “New World” has been
navigated, and when roads are cut through all its forests,
it may be that some being, even of this hemisphere, may
abstract himself, a little, from the charms of gold, ease,
and notoriety; and turn his power and reason to the
kindly purpose of saving the forms of those he loves from
what even thought dares not dwell upon. A beautiful
custom may be thus revived, though Idomen and her story
be forgotten.
To the fact of the swallowing and subsequent delivery
from poison, (exactly as related in “The Confessions,”)
there is one, or more, still living, who can bear witness;
a circumstance which, (taken in connection with the
prayer preceding the deed,) very strongly induces a belief
in the immediate agency of such unseen delegates, as
may well be supposed to operate in the complicated mechanism
of nature.
How far any mortal may be influenced or acted on by
such invisible agents, as are suffered by Deity to exert
their powers, holy or unhallowed, is a subject for an interest
the most profound.
The most wonderful and beneficent intelligence which
has ever yet appeared upon earth, is said to have uttered
this exclamation: “Thinkest thou not, if I should pray
to my Father, that he would send me, at this moment,
legions of angels?”
This is certainly enough to sanction, to the adorers of
Him who thus hath spoken, a belief in unseen protectors.
The more powerful and expanded the mind of a mortal
may be, the more sensible it becomes of the influence of
intelligences independent of itself. In support of this
assertion, passages may be brought from the lives of those
who are called “men of genius,” while every religion of
which the records are saved from oblivion, will present,
of this influence, a proof still more potent. Indeed, the
very title of “man of genius,” could have been derived
from nothing else than that belief in good and evil genii,
countries believed.
A desperate criminal resorts sometimes to the cord, or
to the dagger, either to escape from corporeal pain, or to
revenge himself on such as he knows or believes will exult
in his torment or disgrace; but, generally speaking,
it will be found that persons of tender and generous dispositions
are those most in danger of self-destruction.[5]
Alas! for such persons, if they cast aside spiritual aid
and trust to what is called “their own reasoning powers”!
No intelligence which an earthly form can envelope,
was ever strong enough to depend entirely on itself,
in every distressing emergency.
No mortal (at least none capable of great actions,)
was ever more “reasonable” than Washington, of America;
yet, it is said that even he was once known to despair.
[6]
A friend, at the moment when he would have
and drew him gently from the temptation. Was
this friend, or was he not, commissioned by some heavenly
being? Can any mortal answer this question?
Many very useful persons there are, who can conceive
of no delight higher than the one afforded by their daily
meals; or that common creative process, the mystery and
sublimity of which is entirely lost sight of in their grossness.
For such as these, suicide is never to be feared.
Nay, even the flesh of a suicide, in case of an emergency
of hunger, would be eaten by them with as little emotion,
as they would feel in wringing the glossy neck of a dove.
Persons like these, if they can think at all, are very liable
to be atheists; and well may they adopt the belief of
atheists; because, feeling in themselves so little spirit to
ascend, they may very naturally suppose that “clod to
clod” will be the last of them.
Others there are, more nearly allied to their creator, who
find or imagine in some mortal, a resemblance to Deity,
and adore according to their own conceptions. Such, in
case of losing the object so chosen and endowed, are in
great danger of suicide; if bereaved by death, they hasten
to follow and rejoin; if, as sometimes must happen,
they find or suppose themselves deceived or betrayed,
their tortures become so severe, that they are glad to rush
from the cruelty of earth, and to throw themselves upon
the mercy of Him who made them; far better would it be
to bear, and await the relief of his wisdom; for after all
that can be urged, what has any one done to merit a perfect
and immediate happiness?
Let those who are capable of discerning their god in a
mortal, avert both eyes and ears from the fallacies and
falsehoods of the audacious—the delights of their souls
are such as cannot be even faintly conceived by the utterers
of cold and narrow speculations; neither can their
sufferings, which most often preponderate, be soothed or
pitied by such as never felt them.
Those there are, who, from loss of happiness, become
sick at the light of the sun. Let such be content to suffer
a little, before they resolve on a deed which has once
made them shudder. Let them cling, as it were, to the
sandals of an unseen father, who cannot disapprove their
adoration. However intense may be the cold and darkness
of their despondency, it will as surely pass away, if
they can only bear it awhile, as that flowers and verdure
will spring from those sods of Canada, which are seen
crushed and hidden with snow-drifts; or that night and
clouds must give place to those heavens of gold and azure
which show, in bold relief, the mamey and palm-tree of
Cuba.
The protection and support of intelligencies, or beings
unknown and superior to themselves, is needful to all
who can love!
The preceding reflections have been first presented,
because the being who offers them believes, in the inmost
depths of her heart, that the soothing and direction of
such feelings as sometimes impel to self-immolation, would
add more to the sum of earthly happiness, than even the
breaking of the bonds of those blacks who labour under
kept, depends our principal enjoyment. Many have so
far relied on this conviction, as to suppose an equal share
of happiness in the bosom of every son and daughter of
Eva, the first taster of discontent. Upon this, philosophers
must decide. Incompetent to meddle with any
great political question, the relatress of the story of Idomen
can only say, that the happiness of the first pair, before
their expulsion from their native garden, can seldom
be more fully realised than on a flourishing coffee estate,
where the sable labourers among its fruits and flowers,
are directed by wisdom and benevolence.
The peace and plenty depicted in the little domain of
Dalcour, in the epilogue of the story, is not an exaggeration:
the same effects may be produced by any man of
moderate fortune, if endowed with the same taste and
character as the one represented.[7]
Not only slavery, but servitude, of all kinds, seems, at
first sight, unjust and offensive; but how avoid it?—
Were the hopes of the alchymist realised, even gold could
not buy us food; and could a perfect equality be established
among all people, who would dress for us our
food when procured? Were every individual perfectly
more wretched than slaves are now, even with a bad
master. Arts would cease, and barbarism deface the
fairest countries; many even would groan and die; for
who could long endure the severe and sordid toil which
would fall on every individual, if condemned, unassisted,
merely to supply the daily wants of his own nature?
It may be said, that, in a state of the perfect equality
mentioned, persons would form themselves into bands,
and, by turns, assist each other. If so, it would soon be
perceived that some could think, and organise, while
others could do nothing but toil under their direction.
This difference once understood, all idea of external equality
must, of course, give immediate place to it.
In endeavouring to give happiness to those who are
said to bear the image of Deity, as much attention must
be given to their inclinations and capacities, as to those
of inferior animals.
A dolphin cannot endure the air; and an eagle must
die in the limpid waves of the Bahamas. Between one
and another of those descended from the first mistress of
Paradise, there is said to be full as much difference as
between some beautiful milk-white courser and the ruddy
contented groom who washes his hoofs or braids his flowing
mane.
The pretty flying-fish, which sometimes comes, as it
were, to welcome a vessel to the tropics, ventures often
out of its native element, on excursions of pleasure or
beneficence; but the slightest hurt will kill him, and he
will be dry and useless. Is it not often thus with the
minds of philosophers and philanthropists? Tired of a
universe which almost bounds their vision, they are fain
to soar to a purer and more charming region; but having
risen just high enough to see there is something still beyond,
their powers for flight are exhausted, and back to
earth they must descend.
No mortal ever moved upon this nether sphere, more
benevolent, or less selfish and cruel, than Bartolomeo
de las Casas; yet, he it was who first proposed and effected
the bringing over the ocean of blacks, (who were
already slaves to those of their own colour,) to be the slaves
also of white men.
The natives of Cuba, as well as the gentle and highly
civilized Peruvian, wept, repined, and perished beneath
those galling tasks imposed by the avarice of Spain;[8]
became rounder, and the ivory of his mouth was
shown in smiles. This was enough to satisfy him, who
well might be termed a true and guileless bearer of the
crucifix, that the change he had caused was not a bad
one. By signs like these alone, can the intentions of
heaven or nature be made known to humanity.
Nourished for many years by the labours of ebony fingers,
no one can possibly feel for the negro a sympathy
more pure and intense than the writer of these observations.
The same has lived many days and weeks entirely,
as it were, (or rather as it is,) at their mercy; the same
has assisted at the birth of many, and, of some, closed the
eyes with her own hands, ere the flowery sods hid them
forever; the same has responded to their evening orisons;
the same has given out ribands and beads for their
dances; the same has knelt to heaven, at the dreadful
sound of the lash, and prayed, in an agony, to the God of
mercy and of justice. The sound of prayer was nightly;
the notes of festivity were frequent, and the echo of the
last seldom heard; otherwise, who but a fiend could endure
to live long in the midst of them?
Whites are still bought and sold in Asia, to say nothing
of that servitude or slavery which every poor person is
condemned to suffer.
Neither is servitude confined to the poor alone, except,
regards the subject of individual toil, the greatest of mortals
are more on a level with the most humble, than is,
by any means, supposed or understood. “By the sweat of
thy brow shalt thou eat bread,” was the first curse imposed;
by pains only shalt thou taste pleasure, is the law
which no mortal can evade.[9]
A planter in the midst of five hundred sable vassals,
must either toil almost as severely as either of them, or
derive little benefit from their assistance.
Without the labour of queens and princesses, many
of the heroes of antiquity must have gone without garments
or ornaments.
In the present age, (despite of the improved state of
manufacture,) a young queen or princess, even, must do
much towards the arrangements of her own habiliments,
and go patiently through many a weary process, whenever
she may wish to appear in the full splendour of her
beauty; because a delicate taste or perception of the
beautiful is the gift of so very few (except, indeed, excellent
artists,) that every lady is disfigured who relies solely
on her “tire-women.”
According to an excellent historian, poor Mary, Queen
merely for the adornment of a death foreseen to be inevitable.
It is the common error of every inferior intelligence, or
order of beings, to suppose those a little above them have
nothing to do; yet even the creator and his delegates are
known to us only by their deeds and employments.
Would to heaven and to the nature of things that pain
was not the lot of any mortal!—were all persons just,
kind and beneficent, even slavery itself would be desirable.
Could those principles be inculcated, now, which during
“the dark ages,” were by a few, absolutely acted on,
a greater improvement would be wrought in this world
than has been effected by all the lectures and works on
education which have appeared during the last semi-century.
Could it always be held disgraceful to hurt a
person thrown by heaven or circumstance in our power;
could it always be made a rule to spare a fallen enemy;
could it always be considered as beneath the hand warmed
by “gentle blood,” to hurt anything defenceless;—could
these thoughts and feelings be thoroughly understood and
generally diffused, dependence of all kinds would cease
to be misery, and that on which it is said, “hangs all the
law and the gospel,” would be practical as the division of
one flowery meadow from another; then, indeed, would
the kingdom of heaven be come.
Of that punishment which, in every system of religion,
is expressed by the strongest and most terrific metaphor,
Analogy and experience, however, must convince every
one capable of reflection, that suffering is and must be
the natural result of crime. “An eye for an eye and a
tooth for a tooth,” is expressive of what will be felt by
all who have inflicted pain, while tasting themselves that
pain's equivalent. Every wound maliciously given to a
heart, sensitive and confiding, every needless blow inflicted
by cruelty, on a skin black or white, will be as surely
requited and felt in return, as that warmth is necessary
to life, or that blood flows from a gash.
The state of the negro at the present day, attracts more
of the public attention than that of those suffering poor who
in colour, more resemble the firmament; but, as regards the
jetty African, provide plentifully for his meals; give him
the female he prefers; let him have means to procure a few
trinkets and ornaments, and above all, exact no task beyond
his strength or capacity. Thus provided for, the
brilliant rows between his pouting lips are disclosed by as
much happiness as he, probably, is capable of tasting.
Of the sons and daughters of the country of gold and
ivory, the maker of these poor remarks is so much the
friend, that she could not, without a thrill of anguish, see
their bright eyes dimmed with tears, or a single matted
curl torn cruelly from their shining foreheads. Should
any of the “genii” come to the guidance of an intellect
enshrined in ebony, ungenerous, indeed, would it be to
oppose either deed or wish to its advancement.
To whom, indeed, could be presented a field more vast,
a being be found?)
The improvement and civilization of almost a quarter
of the globe, with all the luxury which wealth and climate
present, are objects which seem to articulate the
words: come, do, and take! Nay, the work is already
begun at Liberia. Could any black man finish it, the slavery
of his race would cease.
Of the beautiful island of Hayti, the African is sovereign,
with those means of improvement which commerce
can bring at his call from the most civilized countries of
Europe. By the free possession of that island have his
glory or his happiness increased? This might seem a
question worth no less than a hearing and an answer.[10]
Could a few sable youths and maidens be found who
would hasten to that island purchased with blood, and
induce to some exertion the urchins, who roam naked,
(looking like little statues of bronze,) through its woods
plantains and bananas about the confines of Liberia, the
banners of the elephant might easily be spread. But of
what avail are those laws and permissions which invite
the two most opposite colours to the same couch and table?
Nature will always step forward as the common queen
and legislatrix. Her edicts are stamped in characters too
strong and definite to perish because they are misinterpreted.
Licentiousness or necessity may often break her
commandments; but the fair descendants of the fair mistress
of Eden, are proud of their locks, like the sunbeams
of Euphrates; their arms and bosoms like his lilies; and
eyes the colour of his waves like the skies at noon, or when
dark beneath the shade of his willows. Will these ever
set aside those rules of taste and beauty, which even the
birds of the garden and wilderness know how to respect
and to observe?[11]
While the lives of every variety of mortals must be
kept up by food and fire, hands must be found to fell the
forest, and to delve in the earth for roots and water; whether
these hands should be black or white, can only be
determined by the wonderful artist who nerves and tints
them. May all who toil, and are toiled for, receive and
give kindness in return!
On the subjects involved in the story of “Idomen” no
more remains to be said. It is many years since the
writing of its pages was begun, and many of those looks
for which they were transcribed from the tablets of the
inmost soul can never, now, be cast on them.
Before even the thought of this transcription a few
germs of laurel were plucked for the wearing of their
scribe, by a philanthropist, a bard and an historian, from
his own full and well-deserved wreath. His beautiful form,
though in ruins, remains still upon earth; but his more
beautiful intelligence seems recalled to its native heaven
while death is reluctant to strike.
Should that most benevolent intelligence, (be it either
on earth or in heaven,) take cognizance of what a most
grateful votarist has said, may it judge of her according
to her sincerity, and pardon and rectify her errors.
The vivid germs, bestowed by a hand so excellent, that
votarist can scarcely hope to wear; born, as she is, in a
new world, far distant from the home of the bard of Madoc,
although familiar to his lyre; or should the wreath,
begun by such guilelss generosity be ever permitted on
temples once throbbing to be encircled, it is now steeped
in so many tears that its leaves may want strength to unfold,
neither, haply, can its blossoms expand in any way
that has been hoped either of warmth or loveliness.
The Greeks attributed four distinct parts to man:—the
body, which is resolved to dust; the soul, which, as they
imagined, passed to Tartarus or to the Elysian fields, according
to its merits; the image which inhabited the infernal
vestibule; and the shade which wandered about the sepulchre.
This last they were accustomed to invoke three
times, and libations were poured out to this as well as to the
manes or gods who were the genii of the dead, and had the
care of their ashes and wandering shades.—See “Voyages d'
Antenor.” This note will also be found in “Zophiel, or the
Bride of Seven.”
Every one must remember that the monument erected by
Artemisia to her husband, the beautiful Mausolus, was considered
one of the seven wonders of the world. She drank
his ashes in her wine, and her spirit, two years after, followed
his whom she had so much loved.
Godwin, in his “Life of Mary Wolstoncroft,” makes
an excellent observation on a similar subject. This woman,
excellent in herself, though mistaken in her views of the world,
was once induced to an attempt at self-destruction. Wounded
by the perfidy of one she had loved and trusted, her misery
became so extreme that no ray of hope seemed to glow
for her; but heaven frustrated her own dark design, and she
was afterwards one of the most happy of mortals.
A young surgeon known to the writer of these remarks,
wns several weeks very ill, and narrowly escaped with his
life, in consequence of something received into his system
through a scratch of his hand, while employed in the necessary
though very horrid process of dissecting a deceased fellow
creature.
Suicides often leave behind them such memorials and
vestiges, as cause them to seem more worthy than most of
the compeers who survive them.
A crisis also in the life of Peter the Great of Russia, exemplifies
in an equal degree, that no mortal can trust to himself.
This sovereign, by his “own reasoning powers,” had acquired
firmness and self-denial enough to disguise himself
and labour, for years, as a poor mechanic, to effect a favorite
design; but when this design was more than half effected,
the mere danger of seeing it prematurely blasted was sufficient
to deprive him of those very “reasoning powers”
which had formed it: by hazarding a battle with the Swedes
he would have rushed to certain destruction. What saved
him? the entreaties of a once poor peasant girl, whom he
had espoused? was there no heavenly guardian concerned?
—See Voltaire's Life of Charles XII.
That excessive quickness and luxuriance of vegetation
which, at first, tempted many to exchange commerce for
agriculture, can, however, only be found where the forests
are newly felled. The earth, when laid bare to the sunbeams,
and tortured for the wants of many, becomes, even
within the tropics, exhausted ere many years are flown.
From the wilderness alone can an immediate elysium be
realised.
According to every account, no form of government of
which any records are preserved; could possibly have been
more favourable to virtue and happiness than that of Peru,
before the conquest of Pizarro. The mildness and excellence
of its laws and customs, both public and private, were
such as it is pleasing to contemplate. An exception to this
mildness consisted in that penalty to which were subjected
the “Virgins of the Sun,” who lived in a similar manner to
that of the Vestals of ancient Rome. Their vows, however,
were so seldom broken, that long lives might be passed
without a single instance of the infliction of this penalty.—
The magnificence of public works within the Peruvian empire,
gave evidence both of wisdom and industry. One immense
road from Quito to Cusco, a distance of fifteen hundred
English miles, was raised above the rest of the country,
and furnished with buildings convenient for travellers. Yet
these who toiled cheerfully for their sovereign and priests,
who assisted with their own hands, could not live beneath
the control of men who had given them treachery in return
for good faith and confidence.—See notes to “Les Incas,”
by Marmontel.
Lady Morgan, in a little work entitled “The Boudoir,”
mentions her surprise, when a very young girl, at finding an
English Duchess (whom she had visited a little too early),
with hammer and nails in her hands, ascending a ladder to
fasten up some classic wreaths which were to ornament her
rooms for the evening. Many attendants were about her,
but none of them had sufficient understanding to relieve her
of a task so irksome.
Recent events in Hayti, may possibly furnish an answer.
It is worthy of remark that the Swiss, the German, the Irishman,
and indeed, white men of almost every nation, will rush
in crowds, when a “land of promise” is described to them;
with no other means than their own energy, they obtain by
toil, a passage over the ocean, and often, absolutely bind
themselves out as slaves, pro tempore, merely for the remote
prospect of calling their own, a little land, which can only
be reclaimed from the wilderness by a continuation of their
toil. The negro does no such thing: he must be put on board
a vessel and have his passage paid; and when landed at last,
in a fertile country, he will scarcely, unless in some degree
compelled, do work enough to support his own life. He has
not, like the white man, an “ideality” of distant and future
good.
The lines which came to memory, as if to be inserted, are
so very applicable to the subject that I make a note of them.
They are composed by Addison, in Latin, and translated, (I
believe,) by Dr. Goldsmith. During childhood, they were
put into my hands by persons whom I must ever respect.—
A perusal of the classics is not, now, the fashion of the day;
but a cultivation of the virtue of sincerity must surely produce
far better results than that fastidiousness which has followed
their disuse, and which serves only to lend a deeper
shade to hypocrisy. The nature of birds is thus described:
No foreign beauty tempts to false desire:
The snow-white vesture, and the glittering crown,
The simple plumage or the glossy down,
Prompt not their love. The patriot bird pursues
His well acquainted tints and kindred hues.
Hence thro' their tribe no mixed polluted flame,
No monster brood to mark the groves with shame:
But the chaste black bird, to his partner true,
Thinks black alone is beauty's favorite hue:
The nightingale, with mutual passion blest,
Sings to his mate and nightly charms the nest,
While the dark owl to woo his partner flies,
And owns his offspring in their yellow eyes.”
| Idomen, or, The vale of Yumuri | |