 | APPLES OF SODOM. Water-drops |  |
5. APPLES OF SODOM.
But frantic, who thus spend it?”
Cowper.
The heir of a noble house grew up to manhood. His
person was lofty, and his step commanding and proud.
He had been nurtured in halls of learning, and all that
wealth could lend to intellect was his. He dwelt in a
stately mansion, and many waited for his smile.
In his ample library, were gathered the wisdom of
ancient sages, and the varied knowledge of modern times.
Tomes, enriched by the skill of the engraver, and gay in
silk and gold, strewed his tables. There he sometimes
lingered, till the lamps grew pale, and the fire in his burnished
grate faded.
But, as he sate in his deep chair of velvet, with his
feet upon an embroidered ottoman, he sometimes dozed
over the open page. For a wine-cup was beside him
there.
Once he read, from a classic book, of the apples of
Sodom. But deep sleep came upon him, and falling, he
lay upon the rich carpet. His servants bore him to his
he murmured something like “Apples of Sodom.”
Afterwards, when he slept long among the books, or
his feet failed in the hall, and they laid him in his bed,
as one without strength, they said to each other, “Our
master hath eaten the apples of Sodom.” But beyond
this, they spake not, for they loved the heir of that ancient
house where they had so long been fed.
A fair, young creature was seen in the lofty rooms of
that princely abode. At her word, the marble vases
glowed with fresh flowers, and guests, robed in rich
apparel, gathered round the costly board. At her word,
the steeds moved gracefully in the proud chariot, for she
bore over that household the authority of a wife.
Yet was there something at her heart, that gnawed
like a secret worm. Of this, she spake not. But the
green leaves of hope withered, and the garlands of joy.
She lay upon a silken couch. Perfumes breathed
around her. The light of the silver lamp was shaded by
the heavy folds of silken curtains, and the steps gliding
around her, upon the thick, and radiant carpet, gave no
sound. Then the wail of a weak infant was heard,—and
the soul of the young mother departed.
The master of the mansion wept; but with his tears
were drops of wine. The holy fruits of sorrow he gathered
not, for in his hand were the apples of Sodom.
Yet the little feet of the child at his side, made music in
the pure forehead were like his own.
The boy grew in strength and in beauty. His heart
reached out slight tendrils for something to love, and took
hold both of the evil and the good. Ere the eyes of the
mind were fully opened, the quick passions had put forth
broad, dark leaves to drink up the sunbeams.
When he erred, and deserved reproof, or when he did
well, and needed encouragement, there was no father,
save a bloated form in the wine-trance. He became a
youth, and flattery spake to him soft things.
At his nod, servants went and came, and when his
splendid equipage rolled along the pavement, the gazing
crowd said that he was happy. But they knew not, that
for the undisciplined spirit there is no happiness.
Years rolled on. And in the house of strangers,
whence issued wild shrieks, and exulting shouts without
cause, and the loud laughter of the maniac, was the son of
the drunkard. Bolts and bars restrained him, and the
glory of his clustering locks was shorn.
He raved wildly, calling his servants to his aid, and
uttering maledictions because they came not. At intervals,
he was quiet, and wrote upon the walls of his cell,
incoherent thoughts. There, amid broken and blotted
lines, might be traced out, “Apples of Sodom.”
The father sate in his lonely halls. He scarcely
mourned for his lost son. An equal madness was upon
him, and a greater sin; for they were voluntary. The
choice. He had himself forged the chains, that were
dragging him to the lowest hell.
He sate in his lonely halls. Friends had forsaken him,
for he had shown kindness to none. The white hairs
of age were upon him, yet had he not become wise.
Wealth was still his, but he enjoyed it not. Neither
gave he to the poor, for a depraved appetite had eaten
up his sympathies.
The weakness of age came upon him. He was a driveller,
and full of disease. His old servants were dead, and
the new mocked him, and stole his substance. His dim
eyes discovered not their thefts, but he trusted them not,
and dwelt with them as among enemies.
None pitied him, or said, “Poor old man!” for his
vice had made him an abhorrence. Memory fled away;
so that the names of his wife, or child, woke no image in
his soul. Yet he forgot not the wine-cup. There it
stood, ever near him, and he drowned in it the last light
of life.
He died. And the bloated corpse scarce retained the
form of humanity. They bore him to his tomb, with the
pomp of mourning; with steeds slowly pacing, and nodding
their sable plumes: for he was the heir of a noble
house. Yet, in that long procession, none remembered
aught that he had done for the comfort of the sorrowful,
or to cause his name to be gratefully remembered among
men.
They laid down the dead, in the tomb with his fathers.
And methought, from their coffins issued a hollow voice,
“Strength was thine, and manly beauty; wealth, and
learning, and love, and the joys of paternity; length of
days, and all that the world covets.
“Yet hast thou come unto us as with the burial of a
beast, for whom none weepeth. Yea, thou didst choose
to pare the Apples of Sodom, and feed on their ashes all
the days of thy life. So hast thou found bitterness at the
latter end.”
| APPLES OF SODOM. Water-drops | |