Thou comest not in sober guise,
In mellow cloak of russet clad--
Thine are no melancholy skies,
Nor hueless flowers pale and sad;
But, like an emperor, triumphing,
With gorgeous robes of Tyrian dyes,
Full flush of fragrant blossoming,
And glowing purple canopies.
How call ye this the season's fall,
That seems the pageant of the year,
Richer and brighter far than all
The pomp that spring and summer wear?
Red falls the westering light of day
On rock and stream and winding shore;
Soft woody banks and granite grey
With amber clouds are curtain'd o'er;
The wide clear waters sleeping lie
Beneath the evening's wings of gold,
And on their glassy breast the sky
And banks their mingled hues unfold.
Far in the tangled woods, the ground
Is strewn with fallen leaves, that lie
Like crimson carpets all around
Beneath a crimson canopy.
The sloping sun with arrows bright
Pierces the forest's waving maze;
The universe seems wrapt in light,--
A floating robe of rosy haze.
Oh, Autumn! thou art here a king;
And round thy throne the smiling Hours
A thousand fragrant tributes bring
Of golden fruits and blushing flowers.
Oh, not upon thy fading fields and fells
In such rich garb doth Autumn come to thee,
My home!--but o'er thy mountains and thy dells
His footsteps fall slowly and solemnly.
Nor flower nor bud remaineth there to him,
Save the faint-breathing rose, that, round the year
Its crimson buds and pale soft blossoms dim
In lowly beauty constantly doth wear.
O'er yellow stubble lands, in mantle brown,
He wanders through the wan October light;
Still, as he goeth, slowly stripping down
The garlands green that were the Spring's delight.
At morn and eve thin silver vapours rise
Around his path; but sometimes at mid-day
He looks along the hills with gentle eyes,
That make the sallow woods and fields seem gay.
Yet something of sad sovereignty he hath--
A sceptre crown'd with berries ruby red;
And the cold sobbing wind bestrews his path
With wither'd leaves that rustle 'neath his tread;
And round him still, in melancholy state,
Sweet solemn thoughts of death and of decay,
In slow and hush'd attendance, ever wait,
Telling how all things fair must pass away.
_Tuesday, 23d._
At ten o'clock, went to rehearsal. Rehearsed the Hunchback, and then
Fazio: this is tolerably hard work, with acting every night: we don't
steal our money, that's one comfort. Came home, found a letter for me in
a strange hand.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Went on with my letter to ----: while doing so, was interrupted by the
entrance of a strange woman, who sat herself down, apparently in much
confusion. She told me a story of great distress, and claimed my
assistance as a fellow-countrywoman. I had not a farthing of money:
D---- and my father were out; so I took the reference she gave me, and
promised to enquire into her condition. The greatest evil arising from
the many claims of this sort which are made upon us, wherever we go, is
the feeling of distrust and suspicion which they engender, and the sort
of excuse which they teach us to apply plausibly to our unwillingness to
answer such demands. "Oh, ten to one, an impostor," is soon said, and
instances enough may unfortunately be found to prove the probability of
such a conclusion. Yet in this sweeping condemnation one real case of
misery may be included, and that possibility should make us pause, for
'tis one that, if afterwards detected, may be the source of heavy
condemnation, and bitter regret to ourselves.[46]
* * * * *
* * * * *
The fact is, that, to give well, one should give equally one's trouble
with one's money: the one in all cases, the other where one's enquiries
are satisfactorily answered.--Received a purple-bound gilt-edged
periodical, published at Boston, from Mr. ----.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The literary part of the book seems much on a par with that of similar
works in England, but there was a wide difference in the excellence of
the engravings. There was one from that pretty picture, the
Bride's-Maid; a coarse bad engraving, but yet how much of the sadness of
the original it recalled to me! It is a painful thing to look at: it
brings before one too much of the sorrow of life, of the anguish that
has been endured, that is daily, hourly, endured, in this prison-house
of torments. After dinner, went on writing to ----, till time to go to
the theatre. The house was not as full as I had expected, though a good
one enough. My father looked wonderfully well and young: there is
certainly some difference in acting with him; but this part fatigues me
horribly.
_Wednesday, 24th._
Went to rehearsal at eleven; at half-past one, went with D---- to find
out something about my yesterday's poor woman. The worst of it is, that
my trouble involves necessarily the trouble of somebody else, as I
cannot go trotting and exploring about by myself. The references were
sufficiently satisfactory, that is, they proved that she was poor, and
in distress, and willing to work. I gave her what I could, and the man
by whom she is employed seems anxious to afford her work: so I hope she
will get on a little. The "God bless you," of gratitude, even if uttered
by guileful and unworthy lips, is surely yet a blessing if it alights on
those who are seeking to do good. And if I were assured that that woman
was the veriest impostor under the sun, I still should hope her prayer
might descend with profit on my head; for I was sincere in my desire to
do well by her. Came home, wrote a letter to ----, finished one to ----;
and went to the theatre. It seems there have been
"Bloody noses and crack'd crowns,
And all the currents of a heady fight,"
at the box-office, and truly the house bore witness thereto; for it was
crammed from floor to ceiling. The play was the Hunchback. I played very
well, in spite of no green carpet, and no letter in the letter scene,
which lost one of my favourite points; one, by the by, that I am fond
of, because it is all my own.
* * * * *
* * * * *
_Thursday, 25th._
After breakfast, went to rehearsal. Came home, put out things for the
theatre, made myself a belt; received a whole bundle of smart annuals
from Mr. ----; spent some time in looking over their engravings. My gown
looked very handsome, but my belt was too small; had to make another.
The house was good, but not great. I played only so-so: the fact is, it
is utterly impossible to play to this audience at all. They are so
immovable, such very stocks and stones, that one is fairly exhausted
with labouring to excite them, before half one's work is done.
* * * * *
* * * * *