lij!|i||!|i|i|jiiii |g k. ')'!' •^iill'riiir MilPPipflfl mfm>* imim T.IT3RARY oi'^ Tin; University of California, Mrs. SARAH P. WALSWORTH. Received October, i8g4, t/lccessions No.!) oD.L^. Class No. ■->•' ^•. V s ^'^-r. ^'^ ■J -,. :.'>i-C '%{ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/footprintsofsorrOOreidrich FOOTPRINTS OF SORROW. rOOTPRINTS OF SORROW. BY THE KEY. JOHN REID. SECOND THOUSAND. 12mo. $2.00. " The author gives gold fresh coined in the mint of his own mind. He considers his subject under all its aspects, first showing the sources of sorrow, then the varieties of form it assumes and its benefits and conso- lations. He has evidently learned from personal experience the mean- ing of the term, and also where alone the healing balm can be found. The beauty and simplicity of its style, and the vein of touching sympathy that runs tlirough its pages, must make it a welcome volume to all sor- rowing and afflicted readers. Its exquisite typographical neatness is as refreshing to the eye as its contents are to the heart. It merits a large circulation." — Christian Intelligencer. **This is a book of rare abilitj' and excellence. The philosophy of sorrow, its characteristics and causes, its peculiarities in the cases of persons of different ages and culture, its beaut}', its effects, its relations and alleviations, are all portrayed with truthful discrimination and ten- derness." — Herald and Presbyteiian. " Perfect in the tenderness of its s^nnpathy and the strength of its consolation." — Albany Evening Journal. "Many who have tasted grief — and who has not? — will find in these eloquent pages much that will soothe and strengthen their hearts." — Watchman and Reflector. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. VOICES OF THE SOUL ANSWEKED IN GOD. Fourth Thousand. 12mo. $1.75. " Old, familiar, and cardinal truths are treated by Mr. Reid with a freshness and vigor of thought and illustration, and arrayed in a bril- liancy of style, which invests them with much of the charm and power of novelty." — Princeton Review. ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS. Footprints of Sorrow. BY THE REV. JOHN REID, AUTHOR OF THE " VOICES OF THE SOUL ANSWERED IN GOD.' SECOND THOUSAND. NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, 530 Broadway. 1875. ^*' Of xmi'^^ 'UFIVBRSITTl Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 18G9, by CHA.RLES SCRIBNER AND COMPANY, In th3 Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. Cambridge : Presswork hy John Wilson and PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. There is not a man whom sorrow has not touched, nor a pathwa}^ which it has not clouded. It walks in company with the heart that is glad, and speaks to the chHd' whose steps are free from care. The subject, therefore, addresses each soul. It is the plaintive story of time. The age in which we are living is an outward age. It touches matter rather than mind. It is scientific rather than philosophical. It needs to be more realistic, more subjective, and more inclined to look at the evil that marks off man. Whatever relates to the soul is a matter of interest. Whether the experience be dark or bright, painful or pleas- ant, we should know it. The words sin, remorse, unrest, grief, despair, unhappiness, point to experi- ences that are shaded; yet he who fails to scan them closely is not wise. The greatest human passions are linked with sadness. There is an in- effable sigh wandering through the soul, telling TJiriVBRSITT Vi PREFACE. of an infinite loss, and pointing to an infinite Satisfier. It is a striking fact that the mind of man does feel an interest in the working of both guilt and sorrow. The popularity of "The Tragedies'* of ^schylus, " The Divine Comedy " of Dante, " The Plays" of Shakespeare, and Goethe's "Faust," shows this. The romances of a people and their songs, the sermons and hymns of gifted minds, the paintings of the great masters, and the prayers of the good, all speak to the heart because of the pathetic element that runs through them. The present treatise is not a devotional book, although veins of devotion are found in it. It does not strictly relate to the afflictions of man, or to piet}^ on its sombre side, or to the absolute gloom of grief. It rather calls attention to certain phases of sorrow ; giving shape to our conscious- ness upon the subject, and seeking to impress the mind in a way that seems right. Any person, there- fore, may read the work, whether he be indifferent, joyful, or sad. The chapters are arranged rhetor- ically rather than logically, as that method seemed the most suitable. Tjiriv: CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. CHAEACTEKISTICS OF SOBBOW. De«p emotion holds the mind to the object that caused it. — Sorrow impul- sive at the beginning. — Alter a season it retires, and the person is re- served. — Then it becomes less, and the person more free. — One sorrow may expel another. — Two sorrows may unite, and thus deepen the grief. — A heavier sorrow may have no tears, while a lighter one has.— The sorrow that causes some to sleep, and some to keep awake. — A person in deep sorrow will be apt to use too strong language when de. cribing his condition.— Sorrow affiliates with simple language. — Sorrow as re- lated to time. — Casts its shadow upon other objects A sorrow lor which we can find no cause. — Why do we feel sad while reading a work of fic- tion?— The weeping of a friend will sometimes deepen our sorrow. — We think of the dead as alive in moments of sadness 1 CHAPTER IL CAUSES or SORROW. At what age of life are persons most sad ? — The thought of human great- ness produces sadness. — A dark picture.— Sorrow brought out by con- trast. — Sorrow from want of sympathy. — When we think of a friend who has passed away we feel sad. — Sorrow because others are sinning and sufifering as the result of our folly. — When one suffers in our behalf our heart is touched. — Sorrow from an enslaved will. — Sorrow in view of a wasted life.— Why do the dying not shed tears, while the hving do? — Various causes of sorrow. — If we feel that we are doing anything for the last time we feel sad 19 CHAPTER III. THE SORROW OF GREAT MINDS. EUyah, Dante, and Pascal.— The introspective mind fashioned for grief. — The manifold power of great minds opens up ways of sorrow.— According to the fineness of the mind will be its aptitude to suffer grief. — Some infirmity usually belongs to the greatest men, and that tends to breed yiii CONTENTS. sadness.— Originality-may be made the occasion of sorrow. — A person of fine imagination is likely to be tinged with sadness. —Finished ideals start melancholy. — The slow march of truth sadly affects a gifted mind. — To see the mundane life of so many of our race is saddening. — The mys- terious nature of the present system leads to pensive thoughts.— The cry of the soul is, when will the morning come? 87 CHAPTEK IV. SOKEOW AND HOME. The greatest joy and sorrow connected with home. — Home shaded by sin. — By sickness.— Thinking of the living as dead. — ^The first death. — A pa- rent's grief falling upon the child.— Popular music having words re- lating to mothers.- A sudden joy ending in night. — Sorrow when leaving home. — Also because we are Uving away from home. — Sorrow as modi- fied by the principle of association. — When we think of the days of child- hood we are both sad and pleased. — If we visit the scenes of our youth we have pleasure and pain. — There is a feeling that goes with us through life that we are strangers 65 CHAPTER V. THE LONELINESS OF THE HUMAN SPIBIT AS AFFECTINa ITS SOREOW. Our individuality points to a solitude of existence. — So does accountabil- ity.— The sohtary nature of human destiny. — Significance of reserve. — The secrecy of man.— Repressed sorrow. — Language never fully unfolds sorrow.— Solitude of want 73 CHAPTER VL SOmiOW AS CONNECTED WITH THE LOVE THAT SUBSISTS THE SEXES. liOve scenes in the Bible, with their tingo of sadness. — The beginning and manifestations of love. — The sorrow of Icve has tenderness and pleas- vire. — The literature of love has a vein of sadness. — The sorrow which arises from being crossed in love. — ^A hero who killed his loved one through mistake.— The tragic love of Abelard and Heloise.— Sadness when one has forsaken us. — A broken heart CHAPTER VII. THE INVENTIVE POWER OF SYMPATHETIC SORROW. Invention as seen in philanthropic efforts.— In Christian efforts.— Sorrow moves us to save men.— Organic efforts which spring from sympathetic CONTENTS. IX sorrow. — The Cross inventive. — Inventiveness of the God-man. — Inven- tive emotion multiplies power. — The inventive characteristic in connec- tion with death. — sympathetic sadness originating dreams. — Also fig- ures of speech.— Also many literary works, 103 CHAPTEE Vin. THE MISEKY OF MAN AS DEEPENING HIS SOEEQ-W. Discontent.— -A burden upon the heart.— Disappointed ambition.— If a height reached, yet not happy. — Pride a source of misery. — Loss as a characteristic of souls.- The attempt to lessen misery by hope,— A list of evils. — Misery intensifie 1 by visions of good.— A great unhappiness . — Men will not reveal their misery. — How the soul holds itself to its mis- ery. — Is there a misery that cannot be remembered ? 120 CHAPTER IX. THE SOEEOW OF CHILDEEN. The infant sighs and weeps. — Significance of uneasiness in a child. — Chil- dren more sad than they seem. — Some sad without realizing it. — A pitiful child described by Victor Hugo. — The sad look even in sleep. — Dreams of children painful. — Apparent frivolousness of their sorrow. — Causes of crying.- Children saddened by the deceptive. — Their intense life a groundwork for sorrow. — Sadness when a child feels that it will die young... Sadness from having done wrong 136 CHAPTER X. THE BZBIiE AND SOBEOW. Calmness of Bible writers. — Calm even in stating the sufferings of Christ. — The same when mentioning great wickedness. — Aim of the Bible is to develop thoughtfulness. — Also painful emotion. — The apocalyptic nature of Scripture thought will start sad emotions. — Our freedom with the Bible is not conducive to deep feeling. — The higher sorrow of the Bible. — Pathetic scenes. — The book of Psalms the great pathetic book of the Bible. — Also the chief devotional book 154 CHAPTER XI. THE WOEKING OF THAT SOEEOW WHICH AEISES BECAUSE OF THB DEAD. Sorrow because of the dead may unite enemies. — Sorrow and indignation when one has come to his death by the carelessness or crime of others. i CONTENTS. A forced sorrow. — Sorrow because not present when a friend died. — ^Is a funeral more dreary in winter than in summer ? — The sorrow that sickens at the show of funerals.— When we think of the last words of a friend before he died we feel sad. — Lamenting and soliloquizing features of sorrow. — ^Apostrophizing the dead 172 CHAPTER XII. THE MAN OF SOKEOWS. One holy being was sorrowful. — ^Are angels and God sad ? — Christ had sor- row because he was hving in a strange land. — Because he had to face so much evil. — Sorrow also from his sympathy. — The sori'ow of Christ was connected with strong judicial emotion. — He foresaw the evil that was to come upon him, and was sad. — Then he assumed atoning obli- gation, which was painful. — Did Clirist die of a broken heart ? — ^It is an honor to sorrow with the Saviour 190 CHAPTER Xm. THE SOEEOW THAT IS PLEASING. How explain tears of joy ? — ^Why do we love to brood over our sadness ? — ^A witchery about sadness that may lead to disease. — The reverie of sorrow pleasant. — We have a pleasing sadness when we think of the fine traits of a departed friend. — A sweet sigh.— The smile of saduessi— Pensive minds have a vein of humor. — A pleasing sadness about certain speculative in- quiries. — A scene of sorrow described may please us, while if we behold the scene it may pain us . — We shrink from a person in great i)ain, yet if we love the person, that holds us to the painful object. — ^A sad object may be painful to one, and pleasant to another. — Does suffering in itself jjlease us ? — We find pleasure in thinking of sorrows that are like our own 205 CHAPTER XIV. SOEEOW AS A CONSTITUENT ELEMENT OF BELIGION. Borrow is found in penitence.— AH moral victories connected with sorrow. — A phase of sadness in solemnity. — Guilt and penitential grief distin- guished.— Sorrow of sympathy and sorrow of piety distinguished. — Reli- gious men who have no tears. — Abnormal piety that has no joy. — Sadness in view of a sinful past. — EeUgion not all sorrow, though no religion with- out sorrow. CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XV. THE SORROW THAT IS BEAUTIFUIi. Very painful sorrow not beautiful. — Son:o\v tlia* starts tears is more beautiful than sorrow that starts ciying. — Tours of gratitude beautiful. — The tear of joy more beautiful than the tear of sorrow. — Sorrow of Jesus beautilul. — So also is the sorrow of our higher nature. — A beauty about i)euitential Borrow. — SjTnpathetic sorrow beautiful. — Meditative sorrow the same. — Sorrow that blends with the passive virtues is beautilul 240 CHAPTER XVL SOEEOW OF DrFFEBFNT RACES — THE SORROW THAT IS ENGENDERED BY '' THE BODY — LAWS OF SORROW. First, sorrow of different races : a rude people more boisterous in their sor- row than a cultivated. — Eastern nations more impulsive in their grief than the western. — A fead tone peculiar to certain races. — Passive tribes do not have such a volume of sorrow as the positive. — The great mod- em nations more sad than the ancient. — Secondly, the body as tending to engender sorrow : Hereditary evils, diseased liver, stomach out of order, too much blood, nervousness, depress the mind.— Secret vice a leading cause of melancholy. — The sadness of religious people which springs from a diseased body. — Thirdly, laws of sorrow: The first law is, that sadness will arise from a sense of loss. — The second law is, that sadness will arise from evil 251 CHAPTER XVn. THE BEARING OF SORROW UPON CERTAIN OF THE HIGHER THEMES OF EXISTENCE. The sorrow of the spirit and its constant pain arise from the fact that man has strayed from God. — The idea of perfection hovering over the sad soul.— The fixed as tending to steady the agitated mind.— The charm of silence to the sorrowful.— Some persons in deep sorrow will plunge into an indefinable abyss to obtain reUef.— Power of the unseen.— Idea of an eternal youth 269 CHAPTER XVin. SORROW BECAUSE OF THE SHADOWS THAT FALL UPON US FROM THE OTHER LIFE. Presentiments. — The niere idea of an immortal existence will sadden ufl. — Also that the existence is untried. — The possibility of being lost alarms xii CONTENTS. the soul.— Why are so many of the good nncertain about their fate?— Joy itself is tinged with sadness.— Unanswered queries touching the future may depress the mind. — The dark side of eternity affects us more than the bright.— That the wicked will see themselves to be wholly evil when they reach eternity is startUug. — Our trouble because a departed friend may be lost.— If I have injured a friend who is dead I am cut to the heart— The vaia attempt of many to banish fear.— Sin in eternity may dwarf the soul.— Fear of the future has characterized all the ages of 287 CHAPTEB XIX. THOUGHTS ADDRESSED TO SOEROWING PARENTS RESPECTING THEIR INFANT CHILDREN WHO HAVE PASSED INTO ETERNITY. The sorrow is peculiar which arises from the death of a little child. — The Bible almost silent touching the fate of infants in eternity.— Perhaps Uttle is mentioned because all is well with them. — When an infant reaches heaven it will likely be placed under the care of mature minds. — Its men- tal nature will be quickened when it enters the kingdom of life. — When a child has died we should not always think of it as a child. — Will the Uttle one be taught anything about this earth ? — Will heaven appear as its na- tive land? 305 CHAPTER XX. THE MINISTRY OF SORROW. Problem of sorrow. — Man must have sorrow if he has joy. — Sorrow is really a manifestation of divine wisdom. — Sorrow a great awaken er. — Those epochal periods which mark a higher power of life are usually preceded by a baptism of sorrow. — A great sorrow is a well-compacted means of good. — It reminds us that life is a discipUne. — God frequently breaks up our selfish plans through the agency of sorrow. — Sorrow with all its ad- vantages cannot change the heart 322 CHAPTER XXI. . SORROW ALIiEVIATED AND DESTROYED. The quiet of many minds is simply a forgetting. — Sorrow is weakened by- employment. — Having a body to be cared for.— a brisk walk. — Sleep. — Laughter. — Music— rriendship.— Nature and art. —Self-determination. — CONTENTS. XUl Sorrow is cured by thinking upon exalted topics. — By an application of the divine remedy. — Overcoming besetting sins. — Laboring in goodness till we are weary. — By the destruction of sin 336 CHAPTEK XXIL GOD AND HEAVEN AS THOUGHTS OF POWER TO THE SOEKOWEUIj. Uniqueness of the idea of God. — Calmness of God. — One eternal thought. — Latent power of God. — How the presence of a great mind gives new life. — God the ultimate being. — The idea of heaven. — Heaven as a place of unimpeded energy. — The^realm of ideal blessedness. — The land where we shall meet our ranscmr ed friends. — The ultimate conception of heaven is that of apUwti where all is riglit 356 Z(^ 0? THDB [TJiriVBRSITY] SORROW. CHAPTER I. CHABAGTEBISTICS OF SORROW, WHEN" deep sad emotion has been awak- ened in the mind by an object, that emotion holds the mind to the object. Let a father be ushered into a room where he be- holds his son lying dead, whom he expected to see alive and well, — that father will be quite unable to think of any other object but his son. It seems to be a law of all the emotions that when they are strung they hold the mind with steady power to their varied objects. If I love most ardently any specific person or pursuit in life, that person or pur- suit is ever before me. Let me be greatly terrified while sailing the ocean in view of 2 SOBKOW. probable shipwreck, then the dread imagery of shipwreck settles around my soul. Is sin causing me to feel intensely, eternity alarm- ing me, God starting sad and painful emotions? then I think of nothing but sin, eternity, and God. If I feel little, I think little. Men are depressed or elevated, saved or lost, by their emotions. Many sorrows are sharp and impulsive at the beginning. Let a mother receive a letter stating that her daughter is dead ; instantly she bursts into tears. Quite likely she will cry aloud, having neither power nor inclina- tion to restrain herself. There may be people in the room with her, but she heeds not their presence. The fountain of sorrow has been opened, and the stream rushes forth in its own way. N'o art is at work here. The sim- ple feeling acts according to its own law, and speaks in its own native language. After a season, however, the sorrow re- tires' and the person is more reserved. At this stage, the grief may be more oppressive than it was at first, though outwardly it may seem to be less. The reflective faculty is now at work and the feelings are put under law, by which means the individual is more still. Chaeacteeistics of Soerow. 3 There is pain from the fact that the sorrow is pressed into a region by itself. Conscious- ness also has come into play, and this fasten- ing upon the sorrow, there is felt to be a greater weight upon the soul. With the thoughtfulness of the mind, there is a clearer apprehension of that which caused the trouble, which may help to deepen it. Persons just after a funeral are less boisterous in their sorrow than they were before ; yet to say that they feel less is not true : the whole scene is mentally spread out around them, and they may even feel more. The desire now is to shrink back into themselves, not caring to go anywhere, or to mingle in com- pany that once pleased them. Manifestations of sympath}'- are very grateful to persons who are bereaved. The kindness of friends stays them up. They feel stronger and happier. Yet if many calls are made to the house of mourning, it is best to allow the sorrowful to remain by themselves ; simply tell them of the kind neighbors who came to sympathize with them in their distress. To be compelled to talk with each visitor about one's loss would deepen the sorrow, instead of diminishing it. The excited mind needs rest 4 Sorrow. There is another stage, and that is when the afflicted person comes forth from his retire- merit, and is readj/ to converse. This is a sign that the sorrow is not so deep as it once was. New feelings are starting up in the mind, and there is more ease and freedom. Business is now attended to with more heart, and perhaps there is more carefulness about life than for- merly. Again, one sorrow may expel another from the soul. Here is a man depressed in his mind by reason of some loss — say of money. All at once a much-loved friend is taken dan- gerously ill. His anxiety on that friend's ac- count is so great that he forgets both the loss and the sorrow. Even in the common work- ing of our mind, we may remember how frequently one state of sadness has been ex- pelled by another. By reason of shifting trains of thought, new emotions appear and disappear with great rapidity. Still, again, two sorrovjs will sometimes unite, and thus intensify the anguish of the soul. On the one hand, my house burns to the ground and poverty stares me in the face ; whQe on the other, my nearest friend dies j and thus a double woe presses me to the dust. In- Chaeacteeistics of Soeeow. 5 stead of two evils, there may be any number above that. The collective force of a long train may strike and sink the soul. When re- port succeeded report, teUing Job of the loss of his cattle, his servants, and his sons, we can im- derstand how this must have affected him. Evil rose upon evil till the whole culminated and fell upon the soul of the patient man. There are cases also when a sorrow that has tarried long with us is now about to give way ; but, just as it is leaving, it is sent back into the heart, there to mingle with a new sorrow that has just appeared. A son clad in mourning for a father, who had been dead two years, is about to take it off ; but at that particular time the mother dies ; which fact awakens the previous sorrow and connects it with one that is present ; the garb of mourning being now the symbol of a double grief Furthermore, though two sorrows may agi- tate the same heart, the heavier sorrow may have no tears, while the lighter one has. This seems like a contradiction ; and yet it is a fact of na- ture. The following incident will illustrate the point : *' Cambyses, when he conquered Egypt, made Psammenitus the king prisoner ; and for trying his constancy, ordered his daughter to 6 Sorrow. be dressed in the habit of a slave, and to be employed in bringing water from the river ; his son also was led to execution with a halter about his neck. The Egyptians vented their sorrow in tears and lamentations ; Psammenitus only, with a downcast eye, remained silent. After- ward meeting one of his companions, a man ad- vanced in years, who, being plundered of all, was begging alms, he wept bitterly, calling him by his name. Cambyses, struck with wonder, demanded an answer to the following question : *' Psammenitus, thy master Cambyses, is de- sirous to know, why, after thou hadst seen thy daughter so ignominiously treated and thy son led to execution, without exclaiming or weep- ing, thou shouldst be so highly concerned for a poor man, no way related to thee ?" Psamme- nitus returned the following answer: " Son of Cyrus, the calamities of my family are too great to leave me the power of weeping ; but the mis- fortunes of a companion, reduced in his old age to want of bread, is a fit subject for lamenta- tion. "* It is quite singular that a great sorrow will cause some persons to sink into sleep, while * Quoted in Karnes' Elements of Criticism, p. 236. Chaeacteristics of Sorkow. 7 others it will keep awake. When Elijah was afraid of losing his life at the hand of Jezebel, and a feeling of discouragement spread over his mind because of the general wickedness of the people, he yet lay down amidst the solitude of the desert and fell asleep. The disciples who were in the garden with Jesus during his agony ** slept for sorrow." Dante mentions his own experience in these words: "Betaking myself to my chamber, where I could give vent to my passion unheard, I feU asleep weeping like a beaten child." All know that it is a very com- mon thing for children to cry themselves to sleep. There is a certain heaviness about sor- row which, united with the drowsiness of nature at night, may terminate in slumber. There is a class of persons, however, who are kept awake by the excitement of grief. David says : " I am weary with my groaning ; all the night make I my bed to swim ; I water my couch with my tears." Priam, in his address to Achilles, thus speaks : "Dismiss me now, illustrious chief, to rest, And lie me down, in gentle slumbers wrapp'd; For never have mine eyes been closed in sleep. Since by thy hand my gallant son was slain : 8 Sorrow. But groaning still I brood upon my woes, And in my court with dust my head defile."* Almost every person is acquainted with the fact that if we awake during the night, while the mind is in trouble, it is exceedingly difficult to fall asleep again. Persons also who have friends suffering, perhaps dying, can sit up night after night with them, the painful interest of the soul keeping them awake. It is worthy of our attention also that if one is in deep sorrow he is apt to use too strong lan- guage when describing his condition. The mind at such a time is simply looking at one thing and feehng intensely about it, and so, as matter of course, all expressions are strong. If a man says. All my hope is gone, I am full of sorrow, I shall never see the light, — ^these various state- ments are not strictly true. The words all, full^ and never see, cannot be understood literally ; they simply express great sorrow of spirit. When David uttered the lament, " My life is spent with grief and my years with sighing," we cannot in- terpret such language as meaning that grief and sighing filled out the whole measure of his years ; because in the very psalm from which the verse * Lord Derby's Homer, vol. ii. p. 448. Characteristics of Sorrow. 9 is taken he says, *' In thee, Lord, do I put my trust ; I will be glad and rejoice in thy mercy." Dr. Channiug, when he was a young man, says of himself : " I am sensible that my happy days are passed, and I can only weep for them." That was rather too dark ; for at another period of his life he uses this language : "I feel a no- ble enthusiasm spreading through my. frame ; my bosom pants with a great half-conceived and indescribable sentiment j I seem inspired with a surrounding deity." A degree of relief comes to us when we know that many a careworn spirit is not so unhappy as its thoughts would seem to imply. It is seldom that one feeling sweeps the whole mind. A man may have emo- tions of joy and thankfulness at the very time he is struck down by a wave of sorrow. Another characteristic of sorrow is, that it aSiliates with simple language and a natural style. The words must flow out of the heart as if they were the echoes of grief. It has been the opin- ion of certain writers that words of many syl- lables are the best fitted to express a melancholy state of mind. I think the opinion may be called in question. Many-jointed words look as if they were the fruit of critical study, rather than the out-flow of the feeling heart. The 10 Sorrow. long-sounding style seems to be made; it does not grow. The taste is artificial that is pleased with it. Our most important words are short. Take these as samples : Soul and body, heart and mind, good and evil, truth and grace, faith and love, hope and fear, joy and grief, life and death, lost and saved. How very striking it is that the word God is so small ; and this not only in English, but in many other lan- guages ! The sensationalism of the present has destroyed the beautiful simpHcity of language : If one will but try, he can treat the most diffi- cult as well as the most tender themes through the medium of short words. There are few writers that excel Ossian in his language of sor- row. His style is very simple. Both words and sentences are short. Note this passage : *' The wind and the rain are past : calm is the noon of day. The clouds are divided in heaven. Over the green hills flies the inconstant sun. Red through the stony vale comes down the stream of the hill. Sweet are thy murmurs, stream ! but more sweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice of Alpin, the son of song, mourning for the dead. Bent is his head of age ; red his tearful eye . Alpin, thou son of song, why alone on the silent hill? Why complainest Chaeactebistics or Sokkow. 11 thou, as a blast in the wood ; as a wave on the lonely shore ? My tears, Ryno ! are for the dead ; my voice for those who have passed away. Tall thou art on the hill ; fair among the sons of the vale. But thou shalt fall like Morar ; the mourner shalt sit on thy tomb. The hills shall know thee no more ; thy bow shall lie in the hall unstrung."* Sorrow has a peculiar relation to time. When we sigh to reach those we love, time seems long. If we are on a journey, sorrow has great power to press us ahead, that we may meet those the sooner who are dear to us. If we are delayed on the way, that delay is most painful : the time we have to wait seems double its length. If a father receives the intelligence that his son at a distant place is dying, he would bound there with one leap if that were possible. All painful emotions make time to appear long. A night of sorrow is a long night. If the sorrow, however, contains the element of pleasure, time will appear shorter than usual. Let there be a religous meeting which is marked by deep so- lemnity, many of the worshipers bemg in tears, — that meeting, though it may be continued for * The Songs of Selma. 12 SOBBOW. hours, will not seem long. This relation of sorrow to time may be modified somewhat by the age of the person. To the old, time is short ; to the yomig, it is long. We may say of sorrow that it generally has a past. We look back to that which has caused our grief. The punish- ment of a prisoner is not found merely in the daily toil ; the memory that opens the volume of the past and compels the soul to read it, brings pain to that soul. It is the remark of Jean Paul that "a dying man knows no present, — nothing but the future and the past.'^ There is much truth in this statement. It is the nature of sorrow to cast its shadoio upon other objects. The soul in this way lives in a world of its own creation, where all things speak the same language, wear the same dress, and have the same family hkeness. In the house all is sad. The very walls and pictures are shaded. Sorrow seems to be written on the faces of our children as we behold them asleep ; upon the books that he here and there ; upon the green fields and the eternal sky. We almost ima- gine that the trees that stand before our door are thoughtful and pensive, that the beautiful flowers look serious and sad, that the stream which mur- murs along sends forth strains of melancholy, Characteristics of Sorrow. 13 and that the music of the birds has notes of sor- row. A great many bright things look dark to us just because we are in the midst of trouble. Is it not a fact also, that there is that about na- ture which tends to express all our mental states ? If we are cheerful, we think of the smiling sun ; if we are thankful, the rich per- fume of the garden becomes a symbol ; if we are in a state of peace, the quiet without matches well with the quiet within. Then, again, if we are angry, the wild storm is the emblem of our rage ; if we are sad, we think of the cloud ; and if we are lost in despair, we point to the thick darkness. There is a sorrow which we cannot refer to any particular cause. It sometimes is found in the soul as an impulse, a feeling, or a state ; but just how it comes we know not. The truth is, we have a variety of emotions at different times which we cannot explain. Influences subtle and secret in their nature no doubt move upon us. I retire to bed at night with a good degree of composure, sleep soundly, yet I awake in tlie morning quite sad. Just how this is I cannot tell. That there is a latent sorrow with- in us all, seems quite reasonable. This may be touched and moved at any hour, whether of 14 SOREOW. night or day. There may be times when fallen spirits set in motion our hidden grief ; and so we sigh without knowing just what the real cause is. Or the great sub-conscious states of the soul may be at work — these, sending up to the surface messengers of sadness, even as the bubbles form on the top of the stream. The ability to realize a foreign sorrow^ so as to make it our own, is a characteristic of all hu- man beings. How is it that we can be made to feel sad while reading a work oi fiction ? How can that which is purely imaginary start sorrow ? The reason is, that, for the time being, what we read seems to be true. So much are we taken up with the story that we forget the fiction, and so it affects us as if it were no fiction at all. It is very much the same when we are saddened in view of a man's troubles which are mentioned to us ; we feel for the moment as if we were standing in his place, thinking as he thought, and cast down with sorrow as he was himself. Whenever we are greatly attracted by the state- ments of an author, whether these be imaginary or truthful, we seem to lose our identity, and are pleased or pained, just as the persons were that we are reading about. I have noticed that when acts of great self-denial are stated with Characteristics of Sorrow. 15 life-like power to a congregation, the assembly will be instantly affected to tears. The reason I suppose to be, that the persons entered with heartfelt interest into the scene which was por- trayed before them, realizing quite truly the feelings of the disinterested individual ; so that they felt for those who needed help very much as the person did who helped them himself. It is somewhat curious also that if we chance to meet at any time the son of an individual who once did us a kindness, the sight of that son will affect us tenderly. Dr. Woodbridge, whose mother was a daughter of President Edwards, mentions an incident which wUl illustrate this : ''A few years ago, in a neighboring congregation," he remarks, ''when I preached on a particular occasion, I met a man advanced in life, who told me he was brought up in Stockbridge, and wanted to know my parentage. When he found I was the son of Lucy Edwards, he lifted up his voice and wept so loudly as to frighten us all. * God bless you sir !' said he, ' are you a son of Lucy Edwards ? Her face seems to me to be the face of an angel. I was a poor lad in Stockbridge, and she taught me to read and write, and incul- cated on me the sublime lessons of Christian morality and religion ; and her kindness to me 16 SORKOW. has been the cause of all the respectability I have enjoyed in life.' He then put liis withered arms around me, and wept like a child."* It is no doubt a fact that one person will feel sorrow in given circumstances, while another person will not. A commencement day at college has ap- peared to me to be a time for starting pensive reflections in the mind of a spectator. Here is a company of young men about to graduate / full of excitement and hilarity ; full of hope ; we at once think of the difficulties before them, and the sorrows that will cut into their liearts ; and as we think of these we feel sad. In such a case we enter more truthfully into the future of these young men, than they are able to do them- selves, and by this principle of substitution we have feelings which wiU be theirs by and by- The weeping of a friend in certain circum- stances will deepen our sorrow. We draw the inference from the weeping that he cannot help us. When the captain of a vessel is in tears, the ship is about to sink. Let a hungry child see its mother weeping when it asks for bread ; the quick thought of the child is, that the last * Autobiography of a Blind Minister, p. 13. Characteeistics of Somiow. 17 morsel has been eaten, and means there is not to get more. If a sick son sees his father wipe his eyes after conversing with a neighbor at the door, he will very natur- ally imagine that death is not far distant. It is of considerable moment sometimes for the leader of a great enterprise to hide his fears. If they were revealed, they might dis- courage each attendant, and thus make failure a certainty. There are times when our friends who have died seem to us still to be living. Ideas based upon this thought course their way through the mind. Shakespeare points to this characteristic in the following Imes : " If she comes in, she'll sure speak to my wife — My wife ! — my wife — what wife ? — I have no wife ! Oh unsupportable ! Oh heavy hour!" During the passage of some fleeting moment we think of a seat that is to be occupied, a piece of work that is to be done, a voice that is to fall upon our ear as it has fallen thousands of times before. To bury such a vast number of associations as we have had of the living, in the grave with the dead, is not easy. The wife who for years has been accustomed to see 18 SOKROW. her husband come home from his labor at the close of each day, will naturally think that he must enter the house as usual, though he has gone to return not again. The father who has always waked up his children in the morning, might, through the force of habit, call upon Mary to arise ; but Mary sleeps not in the home of her early years, — in the grave only she rests. CHAPTER ir. CAUSES OF SORROW, AT what age of life do persons have the most sorrow ? Certainly not during the period of childhood and youth ; for the mind then is not matured, and things are not seen in their true light. As it respects aged people, we know that they look more on the dark side than for- merly ; they are more inclined to be low spirit- ed ; the decaying state of the body tends to de- press the mind. I do not think, however, that the aged are the most sad. Feeling, which is a necessary condition of sorrow, is not so strong and fresh in old persons as it once was. There is something of the prosaic and the tame about them. It is difficult to move them to tears, or to excite in them ardent emotion of any kind. The wings of the aspirations also have been clipped, 20 Sorrow. and the mind has a shiggish and heavy movement. The men of grief, as it appears to me, are those who think and feel with more intensity than the aged are capable of doing. A little beyond the prime of life, I should say, is the time when the sorrow of the soul is the most op- pressive. Then there is a sad, lieavy conscious- ness, — the true melancholy of man. The wail of sorrow that has come down to us has broken forth from spirits that were not old ; and the literature of sorrow has been written, to a great extent, by men who had not seen the age of seventy. One cause of sorrow, at least to a thoughtful mind, is human greatness. Earthly glory is a melancholy affair. A great army may appear splendid, yet it is surrounded with sadness. When we look seriously at a great city we sigh. The wealth and the poverty, the dazzling show and the misery, the excitement and rush of peo- ple by day and the mysterious gloom and bro- ken silence of the city by night, throw around the soul the covering of melancholy. Wlien we think of the fall of kingdoms we feel sad. Images seem to look out upon us from the darkness of the past, — Nineveh and Babylon, Tyre and Eg3^pt. A great mind led astray is saddening. Causes of Sorrow. 21 If a person of exalted attainments has been forced into a state of oblivion, with no opportu- nity to unfold the treasures of the soul, or with the spirit broken, it may be by the severity of the circumstances, the very sight of such an one awakens painful emotions. Let us look at a picture of extreme wretched- ness presented to us by a London physician. " The room which I entered," he remarks, **was a garret, and the sloping ceiling made it next to impossible to move anywhere in an upright position. The mockery of a window had not one entire pane of glass in it ; but some of the holes were stopped with straw, rags, and brown paper, while one or two were not stopped at all ; There was not an article of furniture in the place ; no, not a bed, chair, or table of any kind. The floor was littered with dirty straw, such as swine might scorn. The rushlight eclipsed the dying glow of the few embers, so that there was not even the ajp^earance of % fire. And this in a garret facing the north — on one of the bitterest and bleakest nights I ever knew. My heart sunk within me at wit- nessing such frightful misery and destitution. The mother of the family was a mere bundle of filthy rags — a squalid, shivering, starved 22 Sorrow. creature, holding to her breast a half-naked infant ; her daughter * Sal ^ was in like plight — a sullen, ill-favored slut of about eigh- teen, who seemed ashamed of being seen. She was squatting, with a little creature cow- ering close beside her, in one corner of the room, both munching ravenously the bread which my money had purchased for the fam- ily. The miserable father was seated on the floor, with his back propped against the op- posite side of the fire-place to that which I oc- cupied, and held a child clasped loosely in his arms, though he had plainly fallen asleep. The child was trying to push the corner of its crust into the father's mouth, chuckling and crowing the while, as is the wont of children who find a passive subject for their drolleries. I moved from my seat towards him. His wife took down the candle and held it above her husband's head, and tried to awake him. He did not stir. The child, regardless of us, was still playing with his passive features. A glimpse of the awful truth flashed across my mind. The man was dead. He must have expired nearly an hour ago, for his face and hands were quite cold. It was fearful to see the ghastly pallor of the features, the fixed pu- Causes of Sorrow. 23 pils, the glassy glare downwards ! — Was it not a subject for a painter ? The living child in the arms its dead father, unconsciously sport- ing with a corpse F'* Sorrow is brought out by contrast. I can understand very well how one might feel sad while looking at a beautiful landscape, gazing at contented brute creatures, listening to the song of birds, and catching the hum of insects as they play in the air, — the joy of all these makes one think the more of his pain. A quiet sabbath-day might influence the mind in the same manner. A thought also of rest which no one has yet found, waters of peacefulness flowing from their eternal fountains, a home where evil is not known, a personal welcome by the Saviour as one enters the city of God, may cause the soul to heave forth a sigh. Be- holding an infant asleep, a child praying, a saintly man quiet in the midst of insult, may start sad emotions. "I once kuew^ a lady," remarks Coleridge, " who, after the loss of a lovely child, continued for several days in a state of seeming indifference, the weather, at the same time, as if in unison with her, being * Warren's Diary of a Physician, vol. ii. p. 90. 24 SOEROW. calm, tliougli gloomy ; till one morning a burst of sunshine breaking in upon her, and sudden- ly lighting up the room where she was sitting, she dissolved at once mto tears, and wept passionately."* That was the effect of contrast. A widow looks more sad to us if she has an infant in her arms than if she has none. The child looking up into the mother's face, without understanding the sorrow that reveals itself there, seems to make that sorrow all the greater by the contrast. Homer awakens our sympathy for Andromache by representing her as engaged in household duties, and preparing for the re- turn of her husband ; she not being aware that he was dead. *****" Naught as yet was knowD To Hector's wife ; to her no messenger Had brought the tidings, that without the walls Remained her husband ; in her house withdrawn A web she wove, all purple, double woof, With varied flow'rs in rich embroidery, And to her neat-hair'd maids she gave command To place the largest caldrons on the fire, That with warm baths, returning from the fight, Hector might be refreshed ; unconscious she That by Achilles' hand, with Pallas' aid Far from the bath, was godlike Hector slain."f * Works, vol. ii. p. 480, Harper's ed. t Lord Derby's Homer, vol. ii. p. 358. Causes of Soreow. 25 How much of sorrow arises from want of sympathy ! An encouraging thought, praise when it is suitable, a simple feeling of interest shown in any way, would revive and brighten many a downcast spirit. Human beings are at fault because they do not give expression to their pleasant feelings : the unpleasant show- ing themselves too easily. How much of sad- ness is caused by roughness ! We are not made of cast-iron. It is the dignity of our nature that we can feel. Many have cul- tivated a clumsy manner without knowing it. They trample upon fine feelings just as they trample upon insects when they walk, not be- hig aware of what they are doing. There are men also who mean to be independent, mean to speak their mind ; such are frequently quite troublesome. The blunt, defiant , words make many a spirit to shrink back, many a heart to bleed. Numbers are longing to hear a gentle word. They want kindness. They sigh because they find it not. Tliink of the amount of sadness that is caused Iby fretful- ness and passion ! There is a surliness of men and women, and even a spiteful silence that withers hearts quite as effectually as wrath 26 Sorrow. poured out. Some would prefer a rough word to a rough look. There is a great deal of sorrow also from imagined evil. Since the present has so much trouble, it is strange that men will rush into the future to gain more. Although all want to be happy, yet -it would seem as if all wanted to be miserable. Place human beings in the best position, and they will instantly dream of evil. If men have no trouble, they will be sure to make it. This tendency of mind is not without meaning. The soul has strayed from Grod ! therefore it looks round and onward with agita- tion. It is far more natural to peer into the possibilities of darkness than into the possibili- ties of light. The race have been noted for gloomy apprehensions. Men may be told to banish fear and to look on the sunny side of existence, but with many attempts in that direc- tion they do not succeed. Even the good man, who has a right to be quiet, is not as quiet as he could wish. The belief in evil seems stronger than the belief in Christ. What brooding cares ! How much of suspense ! Some carry the whole matter of imagined evil to a fearful extreme. They behold nothing but night ; see neither star nor shore ; affirm that "all men are liars." Causes of Sorrow. 27 Error is pronounced to be truth, and sin to be holiness. The human soul is made in this way to work backward. How often we have sorrow when we think of 2i friend who is dead. By a simple law of asso- ciation, a thought relating to the departed starts vip in the mind ; and so we feel sad. For a while the vision of the lost one stands before us. Finally it disappears. At an- other time it comes forth again ; some incident or object being the cause. If we are eager to hold fast the conception of the one we love, the sadness deepens ; but if we are afraid to think too intent- ly because of the pain, the conception fades away. There are times, however, when we have no power over self ; but spell-bound we stand and shed tears. How sorrow takes hold of us when we open the trunk containing the clothes and the various articles of a departed friend ! They have lain there for months. We shrink from touching them. There is the diary with the last entry, and the pencil beside it. We look at the watch. It is still ; a symbol of death. We put it back into its place, having no desire to wind it up. Some money is found in a pocket ; let it remain there a while longer. Everything in that trunk is sacred. We close it gently, and 28 Sorrow. depart with a soft step. JNTot often do we care to look into it. The memorials of the dead are too numerous and tender for our poor heart. Sorrow will arise because others are sinning and suffering as the result of our folly. Hu- man beings give way to evil feelings, and then seehig the pain which they have caused feel troubled. Think of a spendthrift or drunkard looking at his desolate family after he has come to himself! He is cut to the heart. And what parent is not troubled when he sees liis own bad habits acted over again by his children ? Yea, the thought that these same bad habits may show themselves in generations yet to come. Our corrupt influence travelling on forever! To think of that is most painful. If a friend, failing to impress us by words, yields himself up to suffering in our behalf^ our heart instantly melts. " Let us present to our- selves a company of men traveUing along the seashore. One of them, better acquainted with the ground than the rest, warns them of quick- sands, and points out to them a landmark which indicated the position of a dangerous j^ass. They, however, see no great reason for appre- hension ; they are anxious to get forward, and cannot resolve upon making a considerable Causes of Sorrow. 29 circuit in order to avoid what appears to them an imaginary evil ; they reject his counsel, and press onward. In these circumstances, what argument ought he to use ? What mode of persuasion can we imaghie fitted to fasten on their mhids a strong conviction of the reality of tlieir danger, and the disinterested benevolence of their adviser ? His words have been ineffec- tual ; he must try some other method ; he must act. And he does so ; for, seeing no other way of prevailing on them, he de- sires them to wait only a single moment, till they see the truth of his warning confirmed by his fate. He goes before them ; he puts his foot on the seemingly firm sand, and sinks to death. This eloquence is irresistible. They are persuaded. They make the necessary cir- cuit, bitterly accusing themselves of the death of -their generous companion."* There is the sorrow also which springs from an e7islaved will. Evil passions rem^yning for a lifetime : how saddening ! A man binding himself by a law, then breaking it ; making a promise, then breaking that ; putting forth a new resolution as if determined not to fail, yet fahing. Almost discouraged by the repeated * Erskine, Internal Evidence of lleligion, p. 44. 30 Sorrow. falls, and wondering whether it is of any use to try again. Makes a new attempt under the pressure of better motives, and succeeds for the present ; yet by and by fails, and sinks to his former level. There may be deep sorrow at last, in view of a wasted life. Wealth acquired, many honors, many friends ; yet no attention given to the chief end of existence. The redemptive idea of time forgotten ; not the least preparation for eternity. A hfe without any repentance ; without any efforts put forth to save men. How can one help being sad ? Even the good lament at last that they have done so little. But how fearful is the thought when a man looks back over the whole of his earthly history and says, ^^ My life is a complete failure.''^ Such a reflection as that cuts the soul in two. Why is it that the dying do not shed tears, while the living who are standing around them do ? Even a mother who is leaving a helpless family does not weep,— does not weep though the children are crying bitterly at her side. When friends are to be separated from each other for a long period they mutually shed tears ; yet in the case before us, where there is to be a like separation, tlie dying shed no Causes of Sorrow. 31 tears, though the hving do. This explanation may he offered : The dying have their mind impressed at a different point from that of the hving. The natural feelings are forced into the background, because now the higher emo- tions are compelled to act with reference to the great verities of existence. Fear, awe, per- haps an element of doubt, penitence, a sense of nothingness, a prayer travelling through the soul made up of many desires, — these holding the immortal spirit with a new power. The startling fact that I am to lose my hfe ; that I am to enter an entirely new state — eternity ; that I am to appear before a God of justice, — such pressing realities forming what seems like an original consciousness. The soul is waiting with trembling suspense the moment when it shall leave the body, and have its fate fixed forever ; the mere natural sympathies therefore are kept down. A feeling of sol- itude hems in the trembling spirit, and it looks steadily at one point. The decaying body also affects the mind. Tears are not so natural as they once were. But with the living, all is different. The soul and body have a degree of freshness. The thought of life is before the mind The mighty experiment of entering upon the 82 Sorrow. scene of future being is not to be made just now. The simple fact, therefore, that one we love is about to be taken away from us, arouses the sympathetic nature. The man who stands upon the scaffold to be hung will not shed tears, although his friends will. The awful realities that crowd about the mind of the criminal seem to petrify that mind : the friends are differently situated, and so they weep. Various causes of sorroio may here be briefly noticed. I have met with persons who felt sad because they were compelled to use the money that was left them by a friend now in his grave. If a son has died in battle, the pension that comes to the mother as the result of that death will start painful feelings. It seems almost as if she were living upon his blood. Even the insurance money that falls to a loving wife, be- cause her husband has died, troubles her. It is not a very easy thing to wear the garment of a friend who has died : a feeling of pain and a feehng of sorrow arise in the soul. Some persons are sad on certain days ; days on which one that was dear to them died. The voice is lower and the tears fall faster during such me- morial periods. Here is a man who has lost his reason. Perhaps he thhiks he has no friend ; Causes of Sorrow. 33 and battling with unreal foes, yet real to him, he is weary. There is a peculiar sadness which comes to one on a dark night. A star twinkles here and there. All is still, and that stillness speaks to the soul ; it awakens the deeper emotions of our being. As we stand in a meditative mood and look at the surrounding creation, we almost imagine that it is sorrowful: that the few stars are but tapers burning in the hall of grief ; and that there is a speechless prayer ascending to the Infinite Creator for help. We feel sad also when we think that the world will move on just as usual after we are dead, and that in a few days we shall be quite forgotten by those who were acquainted with us. How small this makes us! Like sighs travelling over the troubled oceanof life we seem to be. As echoes of an unknown land we hasten by, and are heard no more. I am sorrowful because of my sorrow ; two griefs weary the soul. The sight of a wrecked ship, passing from cell to cell in a prison, walking across a battle-field, will start pensive reflections. It is one of the fine characteristics of our re- ligion that it softens hearts which never before have been softened, and makes the tear to fall which for years had not been seen. The grief 34 SOREOW. that is connected with Christianity is a wonder- ful thing. It has changed the history of the world. Millions it has caused to look from earth to heaven, from self to God. A converted atheist thus speaks of his new experience : ^' Once I seemed to have no feeling ; now, thank God, I can feel. I have buried two wives and six children, but I never shed a tear- -I felt hard and unhappy — ^now my tears flow at the recollec- tion of these things." * The emotional change produced by the powder of Christianity among some of the natives of South Africa is thus stated by the Rev. Robert Moffat: ''To see females weep," he remarks, " was nothing extraordin- ary ; it was, according to Bechuana notions, their province, and theirs alone. lien ivould not iveep. After having by the rite of circum- cision become men, they scorned to shed a tear. In family and national afflictions, it was the woman's work to weep and wail ; the man's to sit in sullen silence, often brooding deeds of re- venge and death. The simple Gospel now melted their flinty hearts ; and eyes now wept, which never before shed the tear of hallowed sorrow. We had been so long accustomed to * Walker's Phil, of the Plan of Salvation, chap. xix. Causes OF Sorrow. ' 35 indifference, that we felt unprepared to look on a scene which perfectly overwhelmed our minds. Our little chapel became a Bochim — a place of weeping ; and the sympathy of feel- ing spread from heart to heart, so that even in- fants wepf * If we realize that we are doing anything for the last tiine, we feel sad. Let a statesman be conscious that he has performed the last public act of his life, and he will feel sorrowful. He may have a degree of pleasure that he is about to retire to the quiet scenes of private life, but yet a feehng of sadness will mingle with the pleasure. The author who has written his last page, the minister who has preached his last ser- mon, the physician who has attended his last patient, will from the nature of the case have a depression of spirits. The student who has fin- ished his course of study in college turns his face homeward with a sigh ; and seldom does the annual examination of an academy close without tears being shed. Many a man who has sold his farm, or the house his father lived in, almost relents after the bargain is made. I have frequently felt sad when I said Good-bye * Scenes in Southern Africa, p. 328. 36 Sorrow. to a stranger whom I had conversed with an hour or tw^o in a railway car. The thought crossed my mind, that here is an immortal be- ing who has met me but once, and who shall never likely be seen again by me till the judg- ment. A person who has been struck blind cannot fail to have a lingering feeling of sadness as he remembers the last words he read and the last human being he ever saw. CHAPTER III. THE SORROW OF GREAT MINDS, A MIND of low development may suppose that a person of superior intellect is not subject to those dark visitations which trouble the spirits of other men. The exalted sphere in which he is accustomed to move is thought to be a region exempt from clouds. This is a sad mistake. Who can help thinking of De Quincey, Cowper, Burton, and many others ? John Fos- ter says of himself : '' My mind is still familiar with melancholy musings ; no place can banish them, and no society. There is * that some- thing stiU which prompts the eternal sigh.' *'* That eternal sigh is known to millions. If all great characters would make known their expe- rience touching sorrow, they would say that its shadow evermore rests upon their heart. * Life and Correspondence, voL i. p. 91. 38 Sorrow. Many are consumed by the steady intensity of their grief. They sigh themselves away into the vast eternity. The sorrow of one mind will sometimes be the sorrow of thousands. There are central, typical souls, — persons in whom the manifold streams of a past grief seems to be headed up, and who represent myriads of sad spirits yet to appear. Men are found whose life is like that of the prophet's roll — ''Written within and without with lamentations, and mourning, and woe." Numbers of brave spirits have fought nobly in this great world of sin, and have gained many victories, while at the last they have fallen in the one battle with their own sorrow. "Alas, for my weary and care-haunted bosom ! The spells of the spring-time arouse it no more : The song in the wild wood, the sheen in the blossom, The fresh sweUing fountain — their magic is o'er." Mijah may be looked upon as one of the great but sad spirits of time. He was the puritan of the Jewish dispensation. How bold, stern, and true ! He saw evil and hated it with a perfect hatred. What faith he had, and what jealousy for God! Yet the man who could slay the prophets of Baal became low-sprited.. Fear Sorrow of Great Minds. 39 and sadaess took hold of his heart. " He went a day's journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under .a juniper tree : and he re- quested for himself that he might die ; and said, It is enough ; now Lord take away my life ; for I am not better than my fathers." The very language is a picture of sad loneliness. How strange that melancholy should darken the spirit of the man who was to be conveyed to heaven by steeds of light ! Dante may be mentioned also as one of the great chiefs of sorrow. He seems like an ex- piring star. His wail echoes through the eter- nal night. " That portrait, commonly attribut- ed to Giotto, you cannot help inchning to think genuine. To me, it is a most touching face ; perhaps of all faces that I know, the most so. Lonely there, painted as on vacancy, with the simple laurel wound round it ; the deathless sorrow and pain, the known victory, which is also deathless, — significant of the whole history of Dante ! I think it is the mournfullest face that ever was painted from reality ; an alto- gether tragic, heart-affecting face. There is in it, as foundation of it, the softness, tenderness, gentle affection as of a child ; but all this is as if congealed into sharp contradiction, into ab- 40 Sorrow. negation, isolation, proud, hopeless pain. A soft ethereal soul looking out so stern, implacable grim-trenchant, as from imprisonment of thick- ribbed ice ! Withal it is a silent pain too, a silent, scornful one ; the lip is curled in a kind of godlike disdain of the thing that is eating out his heart — as if it were withal a mean insigni- ficant thing, as if he whom it had power to tor- ture and strangle were greater than it. The face of one wholly in protest, and lifelong un- surrendering battle, against the world. Affec- tion,_ all converted into indignation ; an impla- cable indignation ; slow, equable, silent, like that of a god ! The eye too, it looks out as in a kind of surprise, a kind of inquiry. Why the world was of such a sort ? This is Dante : so he looks, this * voice often silent centuries,^ and sings us 'his mystic, unfathomable song.^"* Pascal was another of the exalted minds that was sorrowful. He seems to us like the solitary fragment of a rainbow resting upon the earth. The world to him was one vast ruin. Uncer- tainty and imperfection he beheld on every hand. Nothing was real but God, redemption, and the blessed life. When we think of the quickness of his mind, his fine generalizations, *Oarlyle's Heroes and Hero- Worship, p. 77. SoBROw OF Great Minds. 41 then of his sadness, we sigh. As we hear him talk of the weakness and misery of man, we assent to the truthfuhiess of his words. He had the faculty of looking beneath appearances. He laid bare the movements of souls. His sadness is like that of a wind wandering through a deserted temple ; like the wail of a great sea at night. Disease deepened the depression of his spirit, and shortened the days that were so full of melancholy. In the prime of life he died. " Upon opening his body the stomach and liver were found diseased, and the intestines in a state of gangrene ; and when his skull was laid open, it was found to contain an enormous quantity of brain, solid and condensed.'' The introspective mind is peculiarly fashioned for grief. The soul turns in upon itself, and has an attachment to all subjective realities. To settle down into a contemplative state is natural and easy. The tendency is to look toward the deeper aspects of life. Food for meditation is very soon found, and grief with its pain is very soon reached. Sometimes there is a congress of the noblest ideas of the soul of man. These ideas will not finish their colloquy and separate from each other, without producing feelings of sadness. It should be observed also that abstract 42 Sorrow. tion, when centered upon inward things, is apt to fasten upon the heart's sadness, and to bring it out ; but, when it has an exclusive reference to outward things, the sadness for the moment is lost sight of. I forget the lake that is at my feet while looking intently at the sky that is overhead. Abstraction may thus deepen or lessen human sorrow according to the object on which it is fixed. There is a kind of retiring in- wardness to the sorrow of all introspective minds ; but the meditative characteristic projects it into consciousness, where it is seen more distinctly. In fact the habit of thoughtfulness affiliates with sorrow ; really attracts it ; keeps it in motion j makes a channel for it to flow in. The manifold power of great minds opens up ways of sorrow. A person who simply looks at hfe in the mass will not suffer as much as he who grasps it in all its particulars. To stand upon a lofty summit and see millions of men passing before you ; to be able to trace out the intricate causes which move them, and the mighty array of effects which stream forth from them ; to know the history of the chief nations of the past and present, and to give wise hints touching the coming future, — to have such mental abilities is to have sorrow. The less Sorrow of Great Minds. 43 thought, the less grief. Complete ignorance may relieve from sadness ; but what a price to pay! It is not difficult to see that "he who increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow." Yet it is an exalted privilege to be permitted to have a feeling that matches well with the actual state of life and man. If one could take in the whole of human things, and could exercise a grief that would be proportioned to the collec- tive evil of time, — that grief, though painful, would certainly be of an exalted kind. I may say also that there is something in the vast and infinite which will excite sad emotions in a spirit of manifold power. A lofty range of mountains ; a plain that stretches from one ho- rizon to the other ; a forest through which one walks for days ; the eternal sea ; the dome of heaven sparkling with silent stars ; the al- mighty energy that runs through the whole of iiature ; time without beginning and without end, — these spread over the soul a pleasing mel- ancholy. According to the fineness of the mind will be its aptitude to suffer grief. Finish, as a char- acteristic of mental natures, certainly does make them more sensitive. The perfected musician has an ear so exact that the least discord causes 44 SonROW. his mind to move and twitch, much the same as the body does when it is scratched with a pin. Let a man have an exceedingly fine taste for the beautiful and the true, and at once he is greatly discomposed if he meets with anything that runs counter to this taste. The very quiohness of recoil in the mind is the sure evi- dence of a finished nature. A person distin- guished for great purity of life and sweep of intellect will be pained by the touch of sin and the sight of ig.iorance. Avarice disturbs the benevolent, pride the humble, and profanity the man that fears God. The good suffer more from one evil act, than the wicked from a thousand deeds of darkness. Dull and dwarfed souls can neither be very happy, nor very miserable. A great mind can be the sub- ject of ineffable joy, or of ineffable sorrow. Usually there is some infirmity that belongs to the greatest of men, and this tends to breed sadness. The infirmity may belong to the body or the soul, may be constitutional or moral, or a combination of both. Completeness of being is not found upon earth. Irritableness, a ten- dency to levity, to indolence, may engender sorrow. There may have been some form of intemperance in the past, some leading sin SoiiRow OF Great Minds. 46 which has left a mark on the soul ; and so the result is sadness. I question whether Augus- tine ever forgot the wild passions of his youth ; Paul, his rage against the church ; Solomon, his fruitless trial of earthly good ; David, his adultery and murder. I have even thought that Adam, during his nine hundred and thir- ty years of probation, must have been a man of sorrows. All was fair when he appeared. The thought of sin he had not. Holiness and happi- ness were his. But he fell ; and what a change ! He is the only human being that has led off the entire race into evil ; the only one that be- gan with holiness and ended with sin ; that be- gan with joy and ended with sorrow. There is really a marked isolation about him. The farther he entered into time, the farther he was pressed back into sorrow. There was every- thing to deepen the sense of his primal fall. Whether he had a tendency to go as near as he could to Eden that there he might weep, we cannot tell. Perhaps not far from the place where he sinned, there he sorrowed. Of all the great minds, Adam was the first and the most sad. He was a type of him whose sorrow may not be mentioned here. True originality, as the mark of a well- en- 46 Sorrow. dewed spirit, may be made an occasion of sad- ness. The person of original attainments is al- most sure to be ahead of the time in which he lives. Much that he states, therefore, will not be understood and appreciated. That he will be opposed is almost certain. That he may be made to suffer is possible. Many have suffered in like circumstances. Take Socrates and GaU- leo as instances. In original moral action the danger is no less great than in the field of thought, [n fact the danger is greater. The depraved nature of man is more thoroughly aroused by uncompromising righteousness than it is by any discoveries of the understanding; and when light and life combine their power, the opposi- tion may be supposed to be at its highest point. It is one of the sad and startling facts of history that not a single reformer has appeared who has not been persecuted. This state of things must react upon the devoted mind. Whatever of confidence one may have in the eternity of truth and right, this is not sufficient to shut out ill pensive reflections. The simple fact that wise and benevolent efforts have been trampled .mder foot will of necessity generate grief. Not Lo feel sad in view of such results, would be evidence of a debased rather than of a lofty mmd. Sorrow of Great Minds. 47 Again, persons who have a fine imagination are usually tinged with sadness. Is not the im- agination that one faculty that arranges sorrow- producing objects ? It would seem so. Why do I shed tears while reading an article that recounts to me the great sufferings of men ? One reason certainly is, that the writer has made the whole scene to stand out before the mind with life-like power. It is the imagina- tion that has done the work, — the faculty that represents. When an object calculated to ex- cite sad emotions is right before me, in that case I have but to look ; but when the object is distant in time or space, I need the imagina- tion to make it a present reality, A vivid im- agination gives us a vivid consciousness ; and thus a platform is raised for a well-defined im- age of sorrow to stand upon. It sometimes even happens that an event brought out with all truthfulness by the imagination, will affect us more sensibly than if it were witnessed by the naked eye ; while, again, the direct gaze, say upon the thousands of dying and dead on a field of battle, will produce a deeper mental anguish than can be produced in any other way. In the one case, a master of language may do for us what we could not do for ourselves j 48 Sorrow. while in the other, nature can do for us what language cannot. It is true also that the finished ideals of a cultivated mind prompt to sadness. All ef- forts to reach perfection in any form are con- nected with these ideals. Yet the sadness is, that there is always a falling short. Here is a beauty that I cannot paint, a harmony which I cannot reach, a love which I cannot feel. I can think of a happiness which is not mine, a rest more sabbath-like than that which visits my soul. There is a power of mind which I have not manifested, a work to be done which I have not performed, a Christianity which I have not realized, and a Christ whom I cannot describe. Deficiency may be written upon every page of the soul's life. A sublime melancholy takes possession of one when he struggles to reach unwonted heights, but cannot. The soul has unrest in the midst of its mightiest long- ings. It sighs as it looks toward that which runs on forever. The aspirations are greatly excited by the ideal images of the soul. There is a reaching after that which is infinite ; the adaptations of time not being sufficient to meet the wants of the immortal spirit. A hunger is felt, which is but partially appeased ; a good SoKKOW OF Great Minds. 49 is longed for, that only comes in fragments, — the totality of it is never found. Sin has forged chains and fastened them to the heart. The spirit sighs m the midst of its bondage. When will the ransom-period come? A common mind is not so Hkely to be saddened by the sight of excellence as one that is highly culti- vated. Superior natures work antithetically. Both the bright and the dark sadden them ; while the sorrow of lower natures arises mainly from that which is dark. It has been said that Robert Burns could never read the verse — *' God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes " — without himself being affected to tears. His mind was antithetic. When the poet Camp- bell was told on a certain occasion that his " Gertrude of Wyoming '' had been read by some lovers of the work near where the scene was laid, he wept ; and remarked, " This is fame." To be well thought of was no doubt pleasing to the poet's heart ; yet the praise of mortals, when contrasted with that which is truly great and durable, could start a sigh and even tears. Look now at the slow march of truth in this world, and see how that sadly affects a highly gifted and thoughtful mind. Although six thou- 50 SOBBOW. sand years have swept their round since the commencement of human history, yet the greater part of the race have no correct concep- tions of God, of man, and of the method of connecting God and man together. Indeed I may say that the being we denominate God is not known at all by the majority of our species. This single fact, if there were no other, is suffi- cient to sadden a contemplative mind. To think that the Creator and Upholder of a uni- verse is not known is appalling. We behold crowds of immortal creatures staring at dead forms, and at what may be called broken frag- ments of divinity ; while others have nothing more than a vague impression of a great ouU stretching power that forms the background of ail created things. In either case, the one ver- itable God* of creation and Christianity is not found. It is the same as if he were dead, and men were occupying themselves with what seems like the remains of Deity. There are provinces of darkness upon this earth so black that into them a single gospel ray of light does not enter to break up the monotony of th( gloom. There are eight hundred millions ol people just now living who cannot give a correct answer to the question, " What shall I do to be SoBEow OF Geeat Minds. 61 saved ?" In everything like redemptive knowl- edge, there are entire races on the way to eter- nity at this hour, who have really sunk in the scale far below the tribes of a most distant anti- quity. Instead of the march of truth, there is the march of error. And even in favored places, men are trying to destroy every idea of sin and accountability, providence and punishment, eternity and Grod. The most important truth is spurned out of existence as if it were a vision too bright for the dark soul of man, and as if he could find happiness in no other way than in the midst of blank negation, — all things gone himself, and he to go quite soon. . How painful also, as one beholds the merely mundane life of so many of our race. The reign of sheer earthliness. The souFs move- ments bounded by the world. No motive out- side of time. Even those who assume to be upon a higher plane, yet still earthly as matter of fact. The mundane drift of the soul is the point that must be seized. Whether the occu- pation be mental or material is not essential ; worldliness is apparent. What we find is simply a humanistic life. The end certainly is not to prepare for eternity. God is not the chief motive to the soul. The mundane life is 52 Sorrow. godless. Not only does this state of man sadly impress us, but the impression is deepened by the difficulty of breaking it up. The most seri- ous views of life and destiny may be presented to the earthly mind, yet there is no giving way. A ripple on the downward current is all that is made. The fearful fact that the soul is lost, that an infinite remedy has been provided by the munificence of Heaven, that stupendous motives crowd upon the wayward spirit, do not make the least difference as it respects the gov- erning earthliness of the mind, — ^it is permanent as ever. Here is a God-created soul hving for the present, and trying to be contented with it. This is saddening in the extreme. Xot unfrequently one will have a feeling of melancholy as he contemplates the mysterious nature of the present system. How strange that the human race should exist at all! If an in- habitant were to come among us fro:n one of the distant worlds of creation, he would be both startled and puzzled. Startled, in that the life wliicli he beholds is utter vanity ; puzzled, be- cause he learns that the very creatures wlio are immersed in folly are also immortal. Great offenders are not frequently struck down with a sudden blow by the Almighty. There Sorrow of Great Minds. 63 are times when one feels that an infinite amount of evil would be obviated by the instant disap- pearance of a single man from the stage of life. The small number of pious men that are now upon the earth, or that have been upon in it ages past, is one of the enigmas of the present economy. Sin is the one mystery and the one evil. The cry goes up, *' Would God it were morn- ingJ^ To a spirit of fine mould, a view of man is oppressive. Beholding so much of ig- noran