This catching at straws of coincidence, where all is geometrical,
seems the necessity of certain natures. It, is true, that, in every
good work, the particulars are right, and, that every spot of light on
the ground, under the trees, is a perfect image of the sun. Yet, for
astronomical purposes, an observatory is better than an orchard; and
in a universe which is nothing but generations, or an unbroken suite
of cause and effect, to infer Providence, because a man happens to
find a shilling on the pavement just when he wants one to spend, is
puerile, and much as if each of us should date his letters and notes
of hand from his own birthday, instead of from Christ's or the king's
reign, or the current Congress. These, to be sure, are also, at first,
petty and private beginnings, but, by the world of men, clothed with a
social and cosmical character.
It will be seen, however, that this propensity Margaret held with
certain tenets of fate, which always swayed her, and which Goethe,
who had found room and fine names for all this in his system, had
encouraged; and, I may add, which her own experiences, early and late,
seemed strangely to justify.
Some extracts, from her letters to different persons, will show how
this matter lay in her mind.
'_December 17, 1829_.--The following instance of beautiful
credulity, in Rousseau, has taken my mind greatly. This remote
seeking for the decrees of fate, this feeling of a destiny,
casting its shadows from the very morning of thought, is the
most beautiful species of idealism in our day. 'Tis finely
manifested in Wallenstein, where the two common men sum up
their superficial observations on the life and doings of
Wallenstein, and show that, not until this agitating crisis,
have they caught any idea of the deep thoughts which shaped
that hero, who has, without their feeling it, moulded _their_
existence.
'"Tasso," says Rousseau, "has predicted my misfortunes. Have
you remarked that Tasso has this peculiarity, that you cannot
take from his work a single strophe, nor from any strophe
a single line, nor from any line a single word, without
disarranging the whole poem? Very well! take away the strophe
I speak of, the stanza has no connection with those that
precede or follow it; it is absolutely useless. _Tasso
probably wrote it involuntarily, and without comprehending it
himself_."
'As to the impossibility of taking from Tasso without
disarranging the poem, &c., I dare say 'tis not one whit more
justly said of his, than, of any other narrative poem. _Mais,
n'importe_, 'tis sufficient if Rousseau believed this. I found
the stanza in question; admire its meaning beauty.
'I hope you have Italian enough to appreciate the singular
perfection in expression. If not, look to Fairfax's Jerusalem
Delivered, Canto 12, Stanza 77; but Rousseau says these lines
have no connection with what goes before, or after; _they are
preceded_, stanza 76, by these three lines, which he does not
think fit to mention.'
* * * * *
"Misero mostro d'infelice amore;
Misero mostro a cui sol pena è degna
Dell' immensa impietà, la vita indegna."
"Vivrò fra i miei tormenti e fra le cure,
Mie giuste furie, forsennato errante.
Paventerò l'ombre solinghe e scure,
Che l'primo error mi recheranno avante
E del sol che scoprì le mie sventure,
A schivo ed in orrore avrò il sembiante.
Temerò me medesmo; e da me stesso
Sempre fuggendo, avrò me sempre appresso."