party"--and the words were scarcely uttered, ere a sound of distant
thunder appeared to shake the frozen surface of the lake. The pole he
was sliding before him, and of which he held but a careless grip, fell
from his hands. He stooped to pick it up, but it was gone; and holding
up our lantern to look for it, we beheld before us a wide opening in
the ice, where the dark tide was ruffled into mimic waves by the
breeze. Our sapling was floating upon its surface.
"This way," said Victor, bent in his spirit of folly to fulfill his
purpose, and skirting the yawning pool, where the cold tide rolled
many fathoms deep, we held on our way. We thus progressed nearly two
miles, and yet the _ignus fatuus_ which tempted us upon the mad
journey shone as distant as ever. Our own feeble light but served to
show, indistinctly, the dangers with which we were surrounded. I was
young, and loved life; nay, I was even about to plead in favor of
turning toward the shore that I might preserve it, when my companion,
his eye burning with excitement, turned toward me, and raising his end
of the sapling until the light of the lantern fell upon my face,
remarked,
"You are pale--I am sorry I frightened you thus, we will return."
With a reckless pride that would not own my fears, even though death
hung on my footsteps, I answered with a scornful laugh,
"Your own fears, and not mine, counsel you to such a proceeding."
"Say you so," says he, "then we will hold on until we cross the
lake;" and with a shout he pressed forward; bending my head to the
blast, I followed.
I had often heard of the suddenness with which Lake St. Clair cast off
its winter covering, when visited by a southern breeze; and whether
the heat of my excitement, or an actual moderation of cold in the wind
sweeping over us was the fact, I am unable to determine, but I fancied
its puff upon my cheek had grown soft and balmy in its character; a
few drops of rain accompanied it, borne along as forerunners of a
storm. While we thus journeyed, a sound like the reverberation of
distant thunder again smote upon our ears, and shook the ice beneath
our feet. We suddenly halted.
"There is no mistaking that," said Victor. "The ice is breaking up--we
will pursue this folly no further."
He had scarcely ceased speaking, when a report, like that of cannon,
was heard in our immediate neighborhood, and a wide crevice opened at
our very feet, through which the agitated waters underneath bubbled
up. We leaped it, and rushed forward.
"Haste!" cried my companion, "there is sufficient time for us yet to
reach the shore before the surface moves."
"_Time_, for us, Victor," replied I, "is near an end--if we ever reach
the shore, it will be floating lifeless amid the ice."
"Courage," says he, "do not despond;" and seizing my arm, we moved
with speed in the direction where lights streamed from the gay and
pleasant mansion which we had so madly left. Ah, how with mingled hope
and fear our hearts beats, as with straining eyes we looked toward
that beacon. In an instant, even as we sped along, the ice opened
again before us, and ere I could check my impetus, I was, with the
lantern in my hand, plunged within the flood. My companion retained
his hold of me, and with herculean strength he dragged me from the
dark tide upon the frail floor over which we had been speeding. In the
struggle, the lantern fell from my grasp, and sunk within the whirling
waters.
"Great God!" exclaimed Victor, "the field we stand upon is
_moving_!"--and so it was. The mass closed up the gap into which I had
fallen; and we could hear the edges which formed the brink of the
chasm, crushing and crumbling as they moved together in the conflict.
We stood breathlessly clinging to each other, listening to the mad
fury of the wind, and the awful roar of the ice which broke and surged
around us. The wind moaned by us and above our heads like the wail of
nature in an agony, while mingling with its voice could be distinctly
heard the ominous reverberations which proclaimed a general breaking
up of the whole surface of the lake. The wind and current were both
driving the ice toward the Detroit river, and we could see by the
lights on the shore that we were rapidly passing in that direction. A
dark line, scarcely discernible, revealed where the distant shore
narrowed into the straight; but the hope of ever reaching it died
within me, as our small platform rose and sunk on the troubled waves.
While floating thus, held tightly in the grasp of my companion, his
deep breathing fanning my cheek, I felt my senses gradually becoming
wrapt with a sweet dream, and so quickly did it steal upon me, that in
a few moments all the peril of our position was veiled from my mind,
and I was reveling in a delightful illusion. I was floating upon an
undulating field of ice, in a triumphal car, drawn by snow-white
steeds, and in my path glittered a myriad gems of the icy north. My
progress seemed to be as quiet as the falling of the snow-flake, and
swift as the wind, which appeared drawn along with my chariot-wheels.
To add to this dreamy delight, many forms of beauty, symmetrical as
angels, with eyes radiant as the stars of night, floated around my
pathway. Though their forms appeared superior to earth, the tender
expression of their eyes was altogether human. Their ethereal forms
were clad in flowing robes, white as the wintry drift; coronets of icy
jewels circled their brows, and glittered upon their graceful necks;
their golden hair floated upon the sportive wind, as if composed of
the sun's bright rays, and the effect upon the infatuated gazer at
these spirit-like creations, was a desire not to break the spell, lest
they should vanish from before his entranced vision. To add to the
charm of their power they burst into music wild as the elements, but
yet so plaintively sweet, that the senses yielded up in utter abandon
to its soothing swell. I had neither the power nor the wish to move,
but under the influence of this ravishing dream, floated along in
happy silence, a blest being, attended by an angel throng, whose
voluptuous forms delighted, and whose pleasing voices lulled into all
the joys of fancied elysium.
From this dream I was aroused to the most painful sensations. The
pangs of death can bear no comparison to the agony of throwing off
this sleep. Action was attended with torture, and every move of my
blood seemed as if molten lead was coursing through my veins. My
companion, by every means he could think of, was forcing me back to
consciousness; but I clung with the tenacity of death to my sweet
dream. He dashed my body upon our floating island; he pinched my
flesh, fastened his fingers into my hair, and beat me into feeling
with the power of his muscular arm. Slowly the figures of my dream
began to change--my triumphal car vanished--dark night succeeded the
soft light which had before floated around me, and the fair forms,
which had fascinated my soul by their beauty, were now changed into
furies, whose voices mingling in the howl of the elements, sounded
like a wail of sorrow, or a chaunt of rage. They looked into my eyes
with orbs lit by burning hatred, while they seemed to lash me with
whips of the biting wind, until every fibre in my frame was convulsed
with rage and madness. I screamed with anguish, and grasping the
muscular form of my companion, amid the loud howl of the storm, amid
the roar of the crushing ice, amid the gloom of dark night upon that
uncertain platform of the congealed yet moving waters, I fought with
him, and struggled for the mastery. I rained blows upon his body, and
he returned them with interest. I tried to plunge with him into the
dark waters that were bubbling around us, but he held me back as if I
were a child; and in impotent rage I wept at my weakness. Slowly our
perilous situation again forced itself upon my mind. I became
conscious that a platform, brittle as the thread of life, was all that
separated me from a watery grave; and I fancied the wind was murmuring
our requiem as it passed. Hope died within _me_; but not so my
companion.
"Speak to me!" he cried; "arouse, and let me hear your voice! Shake
off this stupor, or you are lost!"
"Why did you wake me?" I inquired; "while in that lethargy I was
happy."
"While there is hope you should never yield to despair," said Victor.
"I discovered you freezing in my arms. Come, arouse yourself more
fully; Providence has designed us for another grave than the waters of
Lake St. Clair, or ere this we would have been quietly resting in some
of the chasms beneath. We are floating rapidly into the river, and
will here find some chance to escape."
"Here, at last," answered I, despondingly, "we are likely to find our
resting-place."
"Shake off this despondency!" exclaimed Victor, "it is unmanly. If we
are to die, let it be in a struggle against death. We have now only to
avoid being crushed between the fields of ice. Oh! that unfortunate
lantern! if we had only retained it--but no matter, we will escape
yet; aye, and have another dance among our friends in yonder old
hospitable mansion. Courage!" he exclaimed, "see, lights are dancing
opposite us upon the shore. Hark! I hear shouts."
A murmur, as of the expiring sound of a shout rose above the roar of
the ice and waters--but it failed to arouse me. The lights, though, we
soon plainly discerned; and on the bluff, at the very mouth of the
river, a column of flame began to rise, which cast a lurid light far
over the surface of the raging lake. Some persons stood at the edge of
the flood waving lighted torches; and I thought from their manner that
we were discovered.
"We are safe, thank God!" says Victor. "They have discovered us!"
Hope revived again within me, and my muscles regained their strength.
We were only distant about one hundred yards from shore, and rapidly
nearing it, when a scene commenced, which, for the wildly terrific,
exceeded aught I had ever before beheld. The force of the wind and the
current had driven vast fields of ice into the mouth of the river,
where it now gorged; and with frightful rapidity, and a stunning
noise, the ice began to pile up in masses of several feet in height,
until the channel was entirely obstructed. The dammed-up waters here
boiled and bubbled, seeking a passage, and crumbling the barrier which
impeded their way, dashed against it, and over it, in the mad endeavor
to rush onward. The persons seen a few moments before were driven up
to the bluff; and they no sooner reached there than Victor and myself,
struggling amid the breaking ice and the rising flood, gained the
shore; but in vain did we seek a spot upon the perpendicular sides of
the bluff, where, for an instant, we could rest from the struggle. We
shouted to those above, and they hailed us with a cheer, flashed their
torches over our heads--but they had no power to aid us, for the
ground they stood upon was thirty feet above us. Even while we were
thus struggling, and with our arms outstretched toward heaven,
imploring aid, the gorge, with a sound like the rumbling of an
earth-quake, broke away, and swept us along in its dreadful course.
Now did it seem, indeed, as if we had been tempted with hope, only
that we might feel to its full extent of poignancy the bitterness of
absolute despair. I yielded in hopeless inactivity to the current; my
companion, in the meantime, was separated from me--and I felt as if
fate had singled out me, alone, as the victim; but, while thus
yielding to despondency, Victor again appeared at my side, and held me
within his powerful grasp. He seized me as I was about to sink through
exhaustion, and dragging me after him, with superhuman strength he
leaped across the floating masses of ice, recklessly and boldly daring
the death that menaced us. We neared the shore where it was low; and
all at once, directly before us, shot up another beacon, and a dozen
torches flashed up beside it. The river again gorged below us, and the
accumulating flood and ice bore us forward full fifty feet beyond the
river's brink--as before, the tide again swept away the barrier,
leaving us lying among the fragments of ice deposited by the
retreating flood, which dashed on its course, foaming, and roaring,
and flashing in the light of the blazing beacons. Locked in each
other's arms, and trembling with excitement, we lay collecting our
scattered senses, and endeavoring to divest us of the terrible thought
that we were still at the mercy of the flood. Our friends, who had
learned from the negroes the mad adventure we had started upon, now
gathered around us, lifted us up from our prostrate position, and
moved toward Yesson's mansion. Victor, who through the whole struggle
had borne himself up with that firmness which scorns to shrink before
danger, now yielded, and sunk insensible. The excitement was at an
end, and the strong man had become a child. I, feeble in body, and
lacking his energy in danger, now that the peril was past, felt a
buoyancy and strength which I did not possess at starting out.
My companion was lifted up and borne toward his uncle's. No music
sounded upon the air as we approached--no voice of mirth escaped from
the portal, for all inside were hushed into grief--that grief which
anticipates a loss but knows not the sum of it. Several who entered
the mansion first, and myself among the number, announced the coming
of Victor, who had fallen in a fainting fit; but they would not
believe us--they supposed at once that we came to save them from the
sudden shock of an abrupt announcement of his death, and Estelle, with
a piercing cry, rushed toward the hall--those bearing his body were at
the moment entering the house--rushing toward them she clung to his
inanimate form, uttering the most poignant cries of anguish. A few
restoratives brought Victor to consciousness, and sweet were the
accents of reproof which fell upon his ear with the first waking into
life, for they betrayed to him the tender feelings of love which the
fair Estelle had before concealed beneath her coquetry. While the
tears of joy were bedewing her cheeks, on finding her lover safe, he
like a skillful tactician pursued the advantage, and in a mock
attitude of desperation threatened to rush out and cast himself amid
the turbid waters of the lake, unless she at once promised to
terminate his suspense by fixing the day of their marriage. The fair
girl consented to throw around him, merely as she said for his
preservation, the gentle authority of a wife, and I at once offered to
seal a "quit claim" of my pretensions upon her rosy lips, but she
preferred having Victor act as my attorney in the matter, and the
tender negotiation was accordingly closed.
After partaking of a fragrant cup of Mocha, about the hour day was
breaking, I started for home, and having arrived, I plunged beneath
the blankets to rest my wearied body. Near noon I was awakened by the
medical attendant feeling my pulse. On opening my eyes, the first
impulse was to hide the neglected potions, which I had carelessly left
exposed upon the table, but a glance partially relieved my fears about
its discovery, for I had fortunately thrown my cravat over it and hid
it from view. As Victor predicted, the doctor attributed the healthy
state in which he found me entirely to his prescription, and following
up its supposed good effect, with a repetition of his advice to keep
quiet, he departed. I could scarcely suppress a smile in his presence.
Little did he dream of the remedy which had banished my fever--cold
baths and excitement had produced an effect upon me far more potent
than drugs, either vegetable or mineral.
A month after the events here above mentioned, I made one of a gay
assembly in that same old mansion at the foot of Lake St. Clair. It
was Victor's wedding-night, about to be consummated where the
confession was first won, and while he sat upon one side of a sofa
holding his betrothed's hand, in all the joy of undisputed possession,
I on the other gave her a description of the winter-spirits which hold
their revel upon the ice of the lake. While she listened her eye
kindled with excitement, and she clung unconsciously and with a
convulsive shudder to the person of her lover.
"You are right, Estelle," said I, "hold him fast, or they will steal
him away to their deep caves beneath the waters, where their dance is,
to mortal, a dance of death."
Bidding me begone, for a spiteful croaker, who was trying out of
jealousy to mar her happiness, she turned confidingly to the manly
form beside her, and from the noble expression beaming from his eyes
imbibed a fire which defied the whole spirit-world, so deep and so
strong was their assurance of devoted affection. The good priest now
bade them stand up, the words were spoken, the benediction bestowed,
the bride and groom congratulated, and a general joy circled the
company round.
The causes which led to, and the incidents which befel, a "night on
the ice," I have endeavored faithfully to rehearse, and now let me add
the pleasing sequel. Victor Druissel, folded in the embrace of beauty,
now pillows his head upon a bosom as fond and true as ever in its wild
pulsations of coquetry made a manly heart to ache with doubt.
THE THANKSGIVING OF THE SORROWFUL.
BY MRS. JOSEPH C. NEAL.
"Thanksgiving," said the preacher.
"What hast thou,
Oh heart"--I asked--"for which to render thanks!
What--crushed and stricken--canst thou here recall
Worthy for this rejoicing. That thy home
Hath suddenly been made so desolate;
Or that the love for which thy being yearned
Through years of youth, was given but to show
How fleet are life's enjoyments? For the smile
That never more shall greet thee at the dawn,
Or the low, earnest blessing, which at eve
Merged thoughts of human love in dreams of Heaven;
That these are taken wilt thou now rejoice?
That thou art censured, where thou seekest love--
And all thy purest thoughts, are turned to ill
Soon as they knew expression? Offerest praise
That such has been thy lot in earliest youth?
"_Thou murmurer_!"--thus whispered back my heart,
"Thou--of all others--shouldst this day give thanks:
Thanks for the love which for a little space
Made thy life beautiful, and taught thee well
By precept, and example, so to act
That others might in turn be blessed by thee.
The patient love, that checked each wayward word;
The holy love, that turned thee to thy God--
Fount of all pure affection! Hadst thou dwelt
Longer in such an atmosphere, thy strength
Had yielded to the weakness of idolatry,
Forgetting Him, the GIVER, in his gifts.
So He recalled them. Ay, for that rejoice,
That thou hast added treasure up in Heaven;
O, let thy heart dwell with thy treasure there;
The dream shall thus become reality.
The blessing may be resting on thy brow
Cold as it is with sorrow. Thou hast lost
The love of earth--but gained an angel's care.
And that the world views thee with curious eyes,
Wronging the pure expression of thy thoughts,--
Censure may prove to thee as finer's fire,
That purifies the gold."
Then gave I thanks,
Reproved by that low whisper. FATHER hear!
Forgive the murmurer thus in love rebuked;
And may I never cease through all to pay
This tribute to thy bounty.
[Illustration: _Drawn by L. Nagel Engraved by J. Sartain_
Lamartine Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine]
DE LAMARTINE,
MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS OF THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT OF FRANCE.
BY FRANCIS J. GRUND.
[SEE ENGRAVING.]
Alphonse de Lamartine, the present Minister of Foreign Affairs of the
Republic of France, was born in 1792, at Saint Pont, near Macon, in
the Department of the Saone and Loire. His true family name is De
Prat; but he took the name of De Lamartine from his uncle, whose
fortune he inherited in 1820. His father and uncle were both
royalists, and suffered severely from the Jacobins during the
revolution. Had they lived in Paris their heads might have fallen from
the block, but even in the province they did not escape persecution--a
circumstance which, from the earliest youth of Lamartine, made a deep
and indelible impression on his mind. His early education he received
at the College of Belley, from which he returned in 1809, at the age
of 18 years.
The splendor of the empire under Napoleon had no attractions for him.
Though, at that period, Napoleon was extremely desirous to reconcile
some of the old noble families, and for that purpose employed
confidential ladies and gentlemen to correspond with the exiles and to
represent to them the nobility of sentiment, and the magnanimity of
the emperor; Lamartine refused to enter the service of his country
under the new _regime_. So far from taking an interest in the great
events of that period, he devoted himself entirely to literary
studies, and improved his time by perambulating Italy. The fall of
Napoleon did not affect him, for he was no friend of the first
revolution, (whose last representative Napoleon still continued to be,
though he had tamed it;) and when, in 1814, the elder line of Bourbons
was restored, Lamartine returned from Naples, and entered, the service
of Louis XVIII., as an officer of the _garde-du-corps_. With the
return of Napoleon from Elba he left the military service forever.
A contemporary of Chateaubriand, Delavigne and Beranger, he now
devoted himself to that species of lyric and romantic poetry which at
first exasperated the French critics, but, in a very short time, won
for him the European appellation of "the French Schiller." His first
poems, "Meditations Poetiques," which appeared in Paris in 1820, were
received with ten times the bitter criticism that was poured out on
Byron by the Scotch reviewers, but with a similar result; in less than
two months a second edition was called for and published. The spirit
of these poems is that of a deep but undefined religion, presentiments
and fantastic dreams of another world, and the consecration of a noble
and disinterested passion for the beau ideal of his youth, "Elvire,"
separated from him forever by the chilly hand of death. In the same
year Lamartine became Secretary of the French Legation at Naples, and
in 1822, Secretary of the Legation in London--Chateaubriand being at
the time minister plenipotentiary.
But the author of the _Genie du Christianism_, _les Martyrs_, and
_Bonaparte et des Bourbons_, "did not seem to have been much pleased
with Lamartine, whom he treated with studied neglect, and afterward
entirely forgot as minister of foreign affairs. Chateaubriand, shortly
before taking the place of Mons. Decazes in London, had published his
_Memoires_, _lettres_, _et pieces authentiques touchant la vie et la
mort du Duc de Berri_,"[3] and was then preparing to accompany the
Duke of Montmorency, whom, in December 1822, he followed as minister
of foreign affairs to the Congress of Verona. It is very possible that
Chateaubriand, who was truly devoted to the elder branch of the
Bourbons,[4] may at that time have discovered in Lamartine little of
that political talent or devotion which could have recommended him to
a diplomatic post. Chateaubriand was a man of positive convictions in
politics and religion, while Lamartine, at that period, though far
surpassing Chateaubriand in depth of feeling and imagination, had not
yet acquired that objectiveness of thought and reflection which is
indispensable to the statesman or the diplomatist.
[Footnote 3: Memoirs, Letters and Authentic Papers Touching the Life
and Death of the Duke de Berry.]
[Footnote 4: He followed them in 1815 into exile; and in 1830, after
the Revolution of July, spoke with fervor in defence of the rights of
the Duke of Bordeaux. Chateaubriand refused to pledge the oath of
allegiance to Louis Philippe, and left in consequence the Chamber of
Peers, and a salary of 12,000 francs. From this period he devoted
himself entirely to the service of the unfortunate duchess and her
son. Against the exclusion of the elder branch of Bourbons he wrote
"_De la nouvelle proposition relative au banissement de Charles X. et
de sa famille_." (On the New Proposition in regard to the Banishment
of Charles X. and his Family,) and "_De la restoration et de la
monarchie elective_." (On the Restoration and on the Elective
Monarchy,) and several other pamphlets, which, after the apprehension
of the duchess in France, caused his own imprisonment.