Adrian, or, the Clouds of the Mind: a romance

Preface

. Two friends, an American and an English man, the one a citizen of New York, the other a resident in Massachusetts, met after a separation of some months, to spend the bright season of the year in one of the love liest valleys of New England. They diver sified their rambles and their rides amongst grand mountains and by beautiful streams, with conversations upon subjects congenial to the tastes of both. One day the topic became the curious copartnery in literary labours of Beaumont and Fletcher, and the one friend proposed to the other to attempt the composition of a prose work of fiction in the same manner. This was readily agreed

PREFACE.

. IV to, and the result is here laid before the public. They neither of them pretend to the genius or the merits of a Beaumont or a Fletcher; but they do believe, that some interest, independent of any that may attach to the work itself, AviU be excited in the public by the unusual course which has been taken in this composition. The minute details of their plan of joint authorship would probably not be very amusing or in structive to any one ; but the public may be pleased to know, at least, thus much : that each has contributed, as nearly as possible, an equal portion with the other to the work that fodoAvs, and that there is not a chapter — not a page — in the whole book, on which each hand and each mind has not laboured. If, as possibly wdl be the case, the curiosity of some individuals may be stimu lated to enquire which portions are to be attributed to the one author, which to the

PREFACE.

. V other, we fear we can afford them no farther indication than that which their own know ledge of either of the men, or their habits of thought may supply. And yet we will venture to add that this clue may very fre quently lead them wrong, as it is more than probable that the sentiments and opinions of the one, may, in many instances, be at tributed by the reader to the other. In regard to the work itself, very little need be said. The scene is laid in the United States. The characters, though not to be considered as portraits, are not without their prototypes : the events, though here and there assisted by fictitious accessories, are often related as they occurred : and of one a slight but faithful sketch has already appeared in print. The principal object was less, perhaps, to write a tale full of stirring incidents, than to develope a peculiar cha racter, and to show the result of a conflict, in the same breast, between opposite opin- VI

PREFACE.

. ions, derived from different sources. In all lands there remains, unfortunately, a high degree of intolerance, in each man, for ad verse opinions or prejudices in his neighbour- We are apt only to love our neighbour as ourself, upon the condition of his being ex actly like ourself. The higher this intoler ance is in any country, the greater is the misfortune ; and when the celebrated An cillon called the coUection of his essays by a name which we may freely translate, " Something towards the mitigation of extreme opinions," he did much by that very name, to promote a sane and benevolent philosophy — to point the way to a more Christian and charitable mode of judging the vieivs of others, than the Avorld has generally been AviUing to adopt. If, hoAvever, it be a great misfortune to a nation to be vexed by opposite and in tolerant opinions, it is a still greater misfortune to an individual to be torn bv con-

PREFACE.

. VII flieting views, from whatever source they may come : and it is weU, we think, for every man, as early as possible, to obtain de finite and conclusive judgment between the contending parties. To do so, without any chance of reversal of judgment, it is ne cessary for him to reject, as worthless, all that prejudice, however venerable from an tiquity, or respectable by association, may put forth to sustain one view or another, and above all, to cast from him the minted falsehoods constantly current in society. Although to incite to such a course, is cer tainly one great object of the work, yet, as Avill be seen by those avIio peruse the following pages, we do not presume to speak dog maticaUy, or to school the public upon any of the various questions Avhich affected pain fully the mind of one of the principal characters. If the book have any moral, it may per haps be comprised in these few words, "Try

PREFACE.

. your opinions ;" for we believe that in all cases it will be found that peace of mind can only be founded on firm and weU-estab lished convictions. Stockbbidge, Mass., Sept. 1. 1851. ADRIAN; OE, THE CLOUDS OF THE MIND.

Chapter I

Windows and doors in nameless sculpture drest, With order, symmetry, or taste unblest, Forms like some bedlam statuary's dream, The crazed creation of misguided whim. Bubns. " Tlie Brigs of Ayr. There are odd-shaped old houses aU over the world ; and it is very extraordinary what different expressions they put on, although their general features may be very much the same. There is something in the face of an old house very much like the face of a human being. One cannot get it out of B VOL. I. ADRIAN ; OR, one's head, that the Avindows are eyes, and the door a mouth, and the overhanging eaves the beetle brows. Who has not looked at one in the dim of the evening — especiaUy in school-boy days — till he almost fancied it the head of the giant Blunder bore, looking out of the pit which Jack, the giant -kdler, dug for him ?

Not only is this similarity in what we must caU the features, but the aspect, the expression has something human in it. How many a venerable old house do we see, quite decrepit with age — sometimes even upon crutches — but smiling upon us still, with a pleasant face from imderneath its Avig of house-leek. Then again there is the grimly house — the dark, foreboding, melancholy mansion, Avith trees of sombre hue generaUy coming up close to it, and the long-bladed, bluish-green grass concealing the meeting-place between its waUs and the earth. How its heavy broAvs frown upon us ! How its cold, staring eyes seem to look gloom and dissatisfaction ! How Uttle welcome does it give ! Hoav stiff and repulsive does it* seem ! One coidd almost fancy it a Prime Minister, putting his hands behind his back, and boAving nega tion to some poor petitioner.

Of the latter kind, there was a very fair specimen, seated in a deep hoUow of some hdls, two or three mdes from the seashore ; but in addition to the general frowning aspect which it wore, there was, moreover, an air of melancholy about it, as it stood in its solitude, with little to see and nobody to talk to. It had a bereaved and discon solate air ; and there was as Uttle hope for it in the future, as there was joy in the present ; for it bore about it evident signs of old age, and four large figures of ham- ADRIAN ; OR, mered iron plaistered on its front, were pro bably intended as a sort of register of its birth, which was someAvhat more than a cen tury before the period at which our tale com mences. These figures were, 1 — 6 — 8 — 7. BetAveen the six and the eight, indeed, there was a great gap, nobody could teU AArhy or Avherefore.

Some people said there had once been a Avindow there, winch had been blocked up when the house was re paired some fifty years before ; but we cannot think it ; for the figures were high up on the house, where no other window dwelt ; and the story of the window, at all, rested only on tradition, a foundation on which we are not at all inclined to rely in any case, and more especially, when it is offered to us in the shape of an old Avoman's tale, involving circumstances repugnant to humanity. Such was the legend told to any one who delighted in cup and saucer eloquence, by two ancient ladies of virgin fame and exceedingly sharp chins, who re sided near the hill, by the side of a small lake. They declared they had it from their grandfather ; but Ave think they must have been mistaken ; for we do believe they manufactured it themselves ; and, though each looked very much as if she were her own grandfather, Ave do not suspect that either of them intended to allude to herseU.

They said, that some sixty years before, a young and beautiful girl had precipitated herseU out of the solitary Avindow, Avhich stood between the two figures six and eight, impelled to what the newspapers call "the rash act," by the cruelty and tyranny of her oavu father, AA'ho wished to force her into a marriage AAith a man whom she abhorred. Now, we are no believers in ADRIAN ; OR, Blue-beard fathers. We have never seen them in a normal, or fossil state; and though, very likely, Methuselah was very despotic when he got old and crusty, yet such fathers, depend upon it, were all before the flood. Daughter and father, however, the old ladies both averred, had walked the house ever since, and from time to time a shriek was heard, just such as the poor girl gave when she was taking the fatal leap.

They did not, of course, relate that leap from their personal knoAvledge ; for the event occurred sixty years before, and the two sisters, though not twins, Avere each exactly thirty-five — whatever the family Bible might say to the contrary, as some persons suspected it woidd do, if ever let out of the dark closet in which they kept it locked up — to punish it for telling such hes about people's ages, we suppose. But to return to the old house, Avith its registered front. It was a curious old budding, of three stories high, AAith a roof, unhke most other roofs in the country, describing at all its various angles a wavy line, somewhat like Hogarth's celebrated line of beauty. It was, in short, like the dome of some Turkish mosque cut square ; and the chimneys, made taU and slender in order to carry the smoke above the hills, might well in the evening Ught have passed for minarets.

Over the prin cipal entrance of the mansion, gracefully reclined upon cornucopias of fruit and flowers, what had once been intended for two female figures, carved in oak, — an ornament which both its form and execu tion suggested, had once belonged to, or had at least been intended for, the stern of someantedduvian ship. Mischief or ADRIAN ; OR, accident, however, had cut down the relief of noses, and chins, and fruit, to an uni form level with the less prominent parts ; so that the general effect was neither par ticularly hvely nor agreeable. There were two stories above, and one below ; and the separation of the aristo iratical up-stairs floors from the plebeian ground floor, was marked distinctly enough by the protrusion of the former over the latter, some twro feet on every side. The upper floors, indeed, were considerably more spacious than the under, and to prevent them from faUing down upon their inferior member, like an extinguisher upon a candle, or a night-cap on a head, the large joists of the flooring projected con siderably beyond the Avail of the groimd floor, as U the people of those days had found it more economical to budd in the air, than on the ground.

The learned, however, assigned another motive for this peculiar style of construction. They said that, at the time this house was built, it was by no means an unusual occurrence to see two or three hundred personages, nearly naked, Avith broAvn skins, beautifully painted and feathered, approach the dweUing and rush under the eaves, with the design of " bruising the hairy scalp of their enemies ;" and that, unless prevented by a sharp fire of musketry from above, they would hewr doAvn the doors with their hatchets, or break in at the windoAvs in an incredibly short space of time. As a proof of the truth of -that whicn they advanced, the persons avIio gave this account of the matter used to point out a number of round holes, between the rafters under the superincum bent protuberance, through which they b ADRIAN ; OR, declared, the early settlers poured a deadly fire upon the savages.

All this might be so, or it might not, and it is not worth whde to stop here for the pur pose of investigating the question. Thank heaven, Ave are far enough from Indians now-a-days, and those who do stiU exist — except upon the extreme frontier — U not civilized, are at least tamed. However, the very idea of the dusky savages coming down from their deep forests, Avith the war whoop, and the tomahawk, and the scalping knife, and rushing fiercely, in the dead of the night, upon the dAvellings of the in vaders of their hunting grounds, — -of the shout and the scream, find the pealing shot, and the torture, and the massacre, the fiendish dance, and the revel in blood, added other grim associations to those with which the place was already invested, and which its mournful, stern, and desolate aspect seemed weU to warrant.

The inside of the house was not much more cheerful than the exterior. Timber was in plenty on the lands round about at the time when it was budt, and it had not been spared. Large beams, time-worn and wormeaten, protruded themselves in every direction, and the death-watch kept up his measured tickings in every room. The staircase was broad and solemn, with Ioav steps eighteen inches Avide, ascending from a good-sized, stone-paved hall, and running back, though not completely, to the farther side of the building. The banisters consisted of thick round columns of wood, with a broad rail at top ; and both in balustrade and railing, the ravages of the worm — tracing a somewhat quaint and fanciful pat tern of deep holes and superficial channels ADRIAN ; OR, for the tiny destroyer to do the bidding of his master, Time — were not only apparent, but obtrusive to the eye.

At the top of the staircase, which, Avith a portion of the haU in which it stood, was somewhat more than twenty feet in width, Avas what, we suppose, must be caUed a landing, though being thirty feet deep, from the top step to a Avindow of three hghts with a fan-Ught above, in the back of the house, it might deserve the name of a room, or a corridor. From this landing ran aAvay two passages, one to the right and the other to the left, Avhich deviated into a number of other passages leading to different rooms, and smaller staircases without number, some going up and some going down, some straight, and some crooked, and some which seemed inclined to betake themselves altogether to the lower story of the house, as if tired of standing there so long Avithout any one taking advantage of the assistance they proffered.

The rooms were aU low in the ceding, though some of them Avere both wide and long, and everywhere were seen the great beams crossing from side to side, and for bidding any one, above six feet high, to Avalk without stooping. Opening out of the hall, on the right and left — before, passing the staircase, you reached a sort of ves tibule at the back of the house — Avere two large rooms -. evidently the state rooms of a time of dignity passed aAvay. The cedings of these Avere nearly as Ioav as in the other apartments ; but the extent gave them a gloomy sort of grandeur, heightened in gloom, if not in majesty, by the dingy pa neUing Avith which one of them Avas lined, and the enormous gaping fire-place, which ADRIAN ; OR, looked like the jaAvs of some monster, ready to devour any one AAiio entered.

The other room was not paneded, and had, to say sooth, a somewiiat gayer aspect ; for some long-forgotten hand had, in a day when the arts were not at then climax, covered the walls AAith stucco, and ornamented them all round with one grand historical fresco. This effort of genius wras evidently not coeval with the building of the house, if the date in front was to be relied on ; for the dresses of the various persons represented Avere of a somewhat later period — that of king William, of immortal memory, rather trenching upon that of Anne. Had it not been for this circumstance, some points about the picture might have induced one to believe that it Avas of very remote antiquity. It represented a hunt, beginning at the eastern corner of the room, and going on tid the end met the commencement.

There was a party of gentlemen, in great Avigs, broad-tailed coats, and large jacked boots, mounted on some sort of extinct animal wliich bore a shadowy resemblance to a horse, but differ ing in a neck, much resembling that of a swan, and a head hardly large enough to become a colt of two months old. There Avere innumerable French horns also hanging under the left arms of aU and sundry. Then came a forest, the trees of which were apparently palm-trees, and were so close to gether, that hoAv the poor men Avere ever to get through them, heaven only knows. Then was seen a pack of Italian greyhounds with pigs' snouts, and long hanging ears — very ugly-looking people indeed — numerous as the sands of the sea, and each bearing a strong family resemblance to the other. Then came another impervious forest, so ADRIAN ; OR, fided Avith birds and beasts, of indescrib able proportions as to give one the idea that a chdd's Noah's ark had been shaken out into it, anyhow ; and lastly, appeared what was probably the object of the chase — a beast Avhich no one would think of limiting in the present day, except a geologist ■ for he seemed to be of a mixed breed betAveen a mastodon and a giraffe.

We say, he was probably the object of the chase ; for, as there was but about the distance of six inches, with due deference to perspective, between his snout and the tad of the horse of the principal huntsman, it was difficult to say which was hunting the other. We have declared that this room had a somewhat gayer aspect than the other ; but after all it Avas a sombre sort of gaiety, like the laugh of a discontended spirit. There Avas an echo of the past about it — a voice from the dead, as it were — speaking from the faded figures on the waUs, and breath ing ruin, and desolation, and decay. In the grand masterpieces of art, we find none of this gloomy emanation. Genius communicates to them a portion of its OAvn immortality. They are not dead, nor of the dead. They live and are for ever living.

The soul of Raphael, or of Michael Angelo, or of Correggio, stdl breathes forth, aU animate, from their works, and holds commune with aU who behold them. But take away the spirit of genius from a painting — re duce it to a mere clumsy decoration — and it is but a tablet on a monument, the record of death, and desolation and corruption. One of those old, rudely painted rooms, however gaudy be the colouring, is, to us, more melancholy than one of the tombs of Thebes. But here the colouring was not ADRIAN ; OR, gaudy — it was not even bright — it was dim —somewhat mouldy— withering away— and the effect of the whole, after the very first view, Avas sombre and dreary enough. But let us quit the inside of the house, and cast om eyes around us. We fear, the prospect is not very cheering. There is no great rehef in the circumadjacent objects.

The spot in which the house was situated, was, as we have said, a hollow, or valley in the midst of the hdls ; but these hdls themselves were by no means picturesque, though someAvhat high. They were round granite knobs, covered Avith short, and by no means luxuriant turf. Here and there were seen, cold, round, polished pieces of rock breaking through, and ever and anon, a great boulder appeared hanging upon the edge of the steep sides of the hoUoAv, as if with the fidl intention of falling upon the head of some unwary traveUer, as he passed beneath. North, south, and west, such was the unvaried aspect of the country around, and the wind played strange gambols over those bare hdls, hooting, and howhng, and whistling as it went. ToAvards the east, the vaUey had its outlet in the direction of the distant sea-coast, and here the scene was a little varied ; for the ancient proprietors, in order to shelter themselves from the blast which came screaming in the winter up the gorge, had encouraged the growth of sturdy pines, which had risen up, protected by and emulating each other, to a vast height, com pletely overshadoAving the ded, through the bottom of which, between deep rocky banks, flowed a cold, dark-coloured stream, so that the little road Avhich passed out in that di rection, was not the most cheerful one in the Avorld; for the deU and the stream ADRIAN ; OR, looked hke the vaUey of Death and the waters of Oblivion.

There was but a very scanty space be tween the old, gray, time-worn house, and the first trees of the wood. Immediately at the back of the budding was a smaU court, paved Avith round white stones inlaid with dark coloured ones in divers quaint figures ; but many of the stones had disappeared, rendering the original design hardly traceable, and between the rest the grass and weeds were growing in unmo lested luxuriance. The remainder of the open space was occupied, partly by an an cient floAver and kitchen garden, surrounded by a loose stone waU, tumbled doAvn in many places, partly by some cattle sheds, and one or tAvo fields which had once been cultivated, though the only trace of culti vation now remaining, was an abundant crop of hardback and other noxious weeds, aris ing from the long untended sod.

Were these the only objects Avithin view? No, there was another — an old well, at the corner of the court-yard and the garden, rudely surrounded with stones, and sur mounted AAith a taU pole and a long beam, according to the primeval fashion of Aveds ; but, alas ! the cord and bucket had long departed, and for many years it is pro bable no one had dipped into the waters below, or drawn up the fresh stream to as suage his thirst. The beam was now worm eaten ; some of the stones had fallen in : and this trace of a former habitation by man only served to add deeper melancholy to the whole. Such was the state and aspect of the place, when, one autumn afternoon, a stranger visited it, with a companion from a town ADRIAN ; OR, not far distant. The stranger came back again after a day or two, — went away — returned — went away again ; and then the news spread through the neighbouring farm houses, that the old place had been bought and sold. Of its purchaser, and his previous history, it may now be necessary to say a word or two.

Chapter II

Pride has ennobled some, and some disgraced ; It hurts not in itself, but as 'tis placed ; When right, its views know none but virtue's bound ; When wrong, it scarcely looks one inch around. Stillingfleet. Although it may be aU very well, according to the ancient maxim of the great poet, to plunge into the middle of things — which, after all, with due reverence be it spoken, is only making the epic pilfer from the dra matic — we cannot help thinking that to render the recapitulation of past events — the long yarn, if we may so call it, which must necessarily be spun in some part or another ADRIAN ; OR, of the story — a very lengthy one, is to inflict a great tax upon the reader's patience, es pecially if those past events are very far past indeed. Nevertheless, it is occasionaUy needful to go back to a hero's father — nay more, to a hero's grandfather — in order, sometimes, to show famdy idiosyncrasies, sometimes, to trace acquired peculiarities to their original sources — just as a man unravels the threads at the end of a piece of cloth, in order to ascertain distinctly what are the materials of which it is reaUy composed.

The more briefly, however, this is done, the better ; for, as the patience of the merchant would cer tainly be exhausted U his customer went on to unravel the whole threads of his piece of cloth, so, probably, would the patience of the reader be worn out, tf authors were to teU aU they knew about people's grand fathers. In this book, we AviU not inflict the grand father upon any one ; but wdl merely dwell a little upon the father of one of our principal characters, as absolutely necessary to a right understanding of the son's nature, and, with all due moderation, wdl make the dose of even that innocent medicine as homceopa thically infinitesimal as possible. Adrian Brewerton — for such was the name of the person who had bought the house described in the preceding chapter — had been at all times a riddle to the world, and not unfrequently a mystery to himself.

His character was full of seeming inconsistencies, difficult to be reconcded, and brought into one congruous whole by an effort of friend ship or enmity. Those who loved him could not pretend to believe him all perfection ; those who hated him, could not deny him many strangely contrasted virtues. Neither, VOL. I. c ADRIAN ; OR, probably, understood him ; and his strange character could only have been rightly com prehended and appreciated, if at aU, by that long, patient, and impartial scrutiny, not un enhghtened by great experience in moral anatomy, which this giddy world is but httle inchned to bestow upon any of its passing denizens. Adrian's father, the younger son of a younger son, of a noble race, although no Puritan by either inheritance or principle, had found himself in New England, at a somewhat late period of its colonial history.

OriginaUy in the British army, he had left the service, after attaining the rank of major, and had first emigrated to Virginia, from Avhich State or Province, as it was then caUed — not succeeding, after residing there ten or twelve years, in acquiring that fortune, the prospect of which had lured him from Eng land — he removed to one of the more ad- THE CLOUDS O? THE MIND. 27 vanced settlements, founded by a race with whom all his traditionary sympathies were at variance. There Major Brewerton, no longer a young man, had married a clergy man's daughter — one of those sensitive, refined, and inefficient persons, so often found in the by-ways of the world ; and of this union, Adrian was the only fruit. ' By the time Avhen the war of Independence commenced, Major Brewerton had so far prospered in his worldly affairs, as to be in possession of a landed property which afford ed him a reasonable competence.

But, as was to be expected, all his feelings and prejudices were with the loyalists ; and, although he took no active part in the struggle, he determined at once to emigrate, on the first indication of the probable success of the revolution. This time he directed his course to Nova Scotia, but returned some years c ADRIAN ; OR, after the peace, to resume the possession of his property, seemed to him by the provisions of the treaty of 1794. The little Adrian, from his childhood, gave evidences of a peculiar organization, physical and moral. His beauty, which was remarkable, was, to the unobserving eye, of too feminine a cast ; and yet, when examined more closely, it seemed to groAV upon you with a power you could not resist. You became aware of a strange earnestness in his blue eye, which at times gave, even to his features as a child, an ex pression of thoughtfulness and concentration, indicating unusual latent vigour.

He was strong in body, though apparently delicately formed, and beneath a timid manner, had a world of resolution and endurance. He was not a merry child ; and yet he was subject, at rare intervals, to fits of what we may be allowed to call a morbid mirth, as grotesque as it was painful. Taking no pleasure in the society of children, he would sit horn after hour upon the stairs of his father's house, playing with a favourite spaniel, and often singing himself to sleep. Indeed, his ear for music was remarkable. Every air that he heard impressed itself indelibly upon his memory, and his discrimination of sounds, and nicety of taste, Avere as delicate as his ear was retentive. This gUt — which often, as in his case, displays itself very early — Avas in afteryears united to a kindred talent : the power of acquiring languages.