The Little-Go. 643 



Thrice had the pistol been pointed to his naked breast ! Thrice 

 had the terrific thunder-clap rebuked him for the meditated deed 

 when, firmness in his step, and courage in his heart, he paused yet a 

 little moment, and gathered with each word as it fell from his falter- 

 ing pen a determination of purpose, which, as fear had no hand in 

 forming 1 , shame had no power to avert. 



" Hold ! A few minutes longer, and it must be done! They shall 

 not say it was a rash act ! The suspense of fear is worse than anni- 

 hilation, and contempt, even from the ignorant, is martyrdom ; and 

 in martyrdom, where is the glory ? 



" Is there not a power in us to redeem ourselves ? And are there 

 not occasions when the pressures of the former and the promises of 

 the future states conspire to urge us to the exercise of it ? What is 

 life but a limb of that eternal progression whose whole we are 

 doomed to feel developed before our immortality is accomplished? 

 a monad, an atom, counting one amongst the infinite divisibilities of 

 spirit as brief in comparison with the remainder as that fierce flash 

 of lightning is small compared with the vast mass of the same fluid in 

 the surcharged cloud whence it issued? And yet the herd calls the 

 self-murderer a guilty wretch and why ? Because he must pass to 

 a state which may be better but cannot be worse ? 



" How awfully the thunder crashes ! I've stood upon the loftiest 

 Appenine and listened to its roar, far, far beneath me, yet was it not 

 so fearful in its sound ! 



" Plato ! Thou mightiest of the mighty ones of the earth ! Dweller 

 amid the spirits of inconceivable intelligence ! Emanation from the 

 eternal, immutable KaXov ! Thou greater than Socrates, thy Messiah, 

 ' qui primus philosophiam devocavit e ccelo ;' who unfoldedst the triple 

 adamaritof the cave of Cimmerian gloom and lookedst upon its forlorn- 

 ness so that it vanished presently ! Herald of immortality, who didst 

 inoculate the cradled spirit of the infant world and plumed it with the 

 pinions of hope and eternity! Minister, martyr, mind-monarch, I ob- 

 test thee ! In whatsoever sphere embodied in whatsoever form 

 concealed whether seated on the onyx throne of the supremest star, 

 thine appointed home, or wandering in eternal quest through illimit- 

 able space, instinct-piloted, or, pausing on the etherial threshold of 

 the temple of temples, faint with expectation of the coming scrutiny, 

 thou makest thy footing firm on angels' lore, suing for revelation, in 

 whatsoever universe thou liyest, I invoke thee ! In the hour of 

 storm and tempest, a wandering ghost upon the shore of death, I woo 

 thee for my guide, as he of old, * the Tuscan bard, the banished Ghi- 

 belline,' did for his journey through the nether world evoke the sha- 

 dow of the Mantuan I 



" And you, ye lesser spirits of old Greece, the land of living light, 

 the womb of thought who have by precept and example pointed 

 the weapon wherewith to quail the harpy evils of this our sublunary 

 state, and send them screaming to their proper hell all ye who did 

 with your own hands put on the wings that waft to immortality, be 

 present! I conjure ye all! An unworthy member of thy glorious 

 company, I offer me to thy companionship ! 



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