Crimora; or, Love's cross

Front matter

* 4 ^

-A v^ n

’'^0^ /\

Chapter I

There was about to be on the earth a new revelation. In the image of its Maker’’ it was to appear, — a bright and breathing creature imbued with a matchless, undying spirit from the altar of high heaven.

What revelation of infinite power, love and wisdom - — of the essentials of divinity — has ever been vouchsafed to mortals, which has exceeded in beauty, in “ fearful and wonderful make,” the human form ! In, such a form was to be embodied our new revelation ; and for the occasion Nature seemed to deck herself in gala-day trappings. Flinging back from her sinless face the misty veil of the early dawning, she turned the dew drops into diamonds for her feet, — touched with fair freshness the rich foliagedrapery which hung about her queenly figure, — gathered on her ever youthful brow a tiara of golden morn-light, and awaited the advent.

1*

C R I M 0 11 A .

In the early part of the present century, on a gorgeous couch in a castellated mansion overlooking the 'waters of the Clyde, — her head pressing the softest of pillo’ws which the richest of Mechlin lace adorned — a beautiful woman gave birth to a sweet, smiling child. No raven Sapped its dark wings at the window; no moan was heard ; no spectre seen ; no tempest howled about the turrets when the little one’s first cry crept through the ear, and dovrui into the heart of the happy father ; but a turtle dove, which had long been the pet of the newly made mother, ^flew to her side and nestled down by her cheek in the rich silken waves of her luxuriant hair — then arched its neck, and sought her luscious hps as if ’t would say, ‘‘ in the new comer it must have no rival.” It v/as a pleasing incident, and 'was proclaimed by all as an omen that gentleness and love would characterise the child. The sequel, perchance, wdll confirm it.

The room for a time had been darkened, but as the fair sufferer awoke from a refreshing sleep, the satin drapery of the windoAvs A'^ as put aside, and the rich mellow light allowed to pour into the apartment. What a gush of joy every soul CA^olved ! The gentle mother smiling in the fulness of her bliss, folded to her snoAvy bosom the newborn infant ; from Avhence a pale glory seemed radiating, as though indeed another Holy Child lay there. It Avas in truth a sacred revelation, — an ultimate of perfections in the harmonious progress of events, — a lovely bud that Avas to beautifully blossom in the great field of humanity.

If the mother A’vas happy in her breathing treasure, the father Avas no less so ; and in Avild enthusiasm bathed with kisses and tears her round alabaster-like shoulders, and

C R I U 0 R A .

i sraootli brow, till a thought of her present weakness warned him that his adoration even, might be wearying.

Donald Lathmon was the happj^ man of whom we speak ; — a noble-hearted Scotsman, who held in trust for grandchildren — should there be any to his family — a large and valuable property. The story which I am about to relate concerning this branch of the Lathmon stock, I learned a few years ago from an old maU, who, with myself had been resting his aged limbs among the tombs of the far-famed Necropolis of Glasgow. He had noticed my particular examination and admiration of a monument, crowning an elevated spot on that lovely hill consecrated to the dead ; and aware that I was a stranger, lingered on the Bridge of Sighs ” (most appropriately named, for over it all must pass who go to lay their loved ones in that sacred spot), which joins the Necropolis to the living city, and spans the gurgling Molandina Burn, to encounter mo on my return.

Do you know anything of the Lathmon’s, whose tomb yonder, you have been so particularly regarding ? ” said the old man respectfully, as I came up to him.

If they are of that family,” I said, of whom Ossian so divinely sings, — ^ who poured from the eastern hill like a stream of darkness,’ — I know something of their history ; yet, I would be thankful to one who would teach me more.”

Come v/ith me, then,” joyfully replied the old man, and from yon elevation, which is near my own dwelling, I will show to you the mansion of the worthy and once happy Lathmbn’s ; and,” added he, “ if you like vrell a storj^ of truth, — that is, I assure you, sti'anger than fic-

CRIMORA .

tion, — I will tell you the life some of them have sped ; but it will take time — time, as I am old.”

I expressed my gratitude, and my new friend and guide led nimbly up the hill. When arrived at the top, he pointed out the home and the once fertile lands of the Lathmon’s, with whom, as he afterwards stated, he had spent his happiest days as a gardener. AVhen satisfied that I had drank in all the beauties of the scene, he conducted me to his own cottage, and beneath the porch began tliis tale : —

It was a noble family ! — not ennobled by titles, but by deeds. Donald was a favorite child, and while his father and mother lived, had no greater pleasure than that afforded to him by implicit obedience to their wills. The sectarianism and bigotry of the times, however, occasionally influenced Them unfortunately — once in a most serious affair which forced upon their son a wife, whose mind was as angular as his was free from duplicity.

The result of this marriage was a daughter — in giving birth to which the mother passed away into the spirit land, where she was soon joined by both her father-in-law and mother-in-law.

Young Donald was fully aware of the irreparable loss he had met with in the death of his parents — but he was now free ; and as soon as time had tempered his grief, he sought and won the affections of the most lovely and accomplished woman of the land ; — and, as we have seen at the commencement of this chapter, was blessed by another daughter— a real child of love.

One would now suppose that Donald Lathmon found his home a perfect paradise. It might have been so, perhaps,

CRIMORA .

had it not sheltered a little venomous toad in the shape of his first child, who partook so entirely of the character of her mother, was so full of envy and malice, that the morning which ushered in the new birth, ^ destined her for a foreign residence. .

Prudence Christian, — for such was the name Mrs. Lathmon had given to her most imprudent, unchristian product, — was despatched to London to reside with, and be educated by, a religious aunt, who possessed many of the qualifications of a very disagreeable women, but who held on to society by a link of seeming piety. This relative’s unnatural severity of deportment, served utterly to alienate from her affections, — if she had any, — her new charge ; while the restrictions under wdiich the child was placed, schooled her in every deceptive artifice : though, as she grew up, she discovered by her own mother wit, that there were many ways of working one’s self into place and influence, not legitimately belonging to the properties of a high-souled woman.

Prudence was too much like her mother, to obtain much love from the father. Her very name, — bestowed upon her by his better half,” — evei’ gave to him Vi calif rio when he heard it uttered ; for there is much in a name or a word — much in the harmony of the one, in the sound of the other, that excites agreeable or unpleasant emotions. A whole nation is influenced into suavity and gentleness of manners by its language. Even the celestial spheres win a charm from a musical appellation. Ciclo and il Paradiso attract to their distinguished glory the ear as well as the heart.

Donald Lathmon’s second wife. — whom he called Lirio^

CRIMORA.

(the lily) — was for some days after the event we have described as well as could be expected.”

The mother and father both blessed God for the precious gift of a child, and • offered up prayers for its health and goodness of heart.

As soon as the mother could sit up and fold the little one to her bosom — clasp this little Lily to lilies — she earnestly solicited for it a pretty name. “ What will you call our sweet little Tot, dear Donald ? ” said she ; — certainly it is old enough to have a name, and sweet enough to have two ! ”

Give it such a name as will please you best, for then I am sure it will please me,” replied Donald. Your mother called you Flora, but I chose to call you Lirio, because you were to me a pure and definite beauty. The name of the child is one that you will almost momentarily repeat ; therefore it should be such as you fancy, one, however, that when spoken should have no harshness in it, but come in softness to the ear. Flora is pretty, and certainly dear to me, for it was by that I first welcomed and loved you. Would you not then, like to call her Flora?”

No, no ; I could not think of giving her so common a name,” replied the mother. “ I Avould like to have one that is not only classic, but expressive of something — I so much dislike unmeaning names.”

“ Well, my fair Lirio, name her as you will,” said the father. For my part I shall call her Tot ! — yes. Tot ! — our Tot ! — our dear little Tot ! ” and for many months Tot” she was called.

II Lirio saw the bud unfolding day by day, yet without

CRIMORA.

a name. One evening, however, with a bosom heaving with emotion, as she laid aside a volume of Ossian’s poems, she said to herself, — that name whispers to me her destiny ; it fixes itself in my mind, and as it is the Galic we so much love, it shall be hres, — foreshadowing, emblematic — hers it must be: — Aluine Lorma ! Aluine (alona), exquisitely beautiful^ Lorma, the loving ^

As Flora Lathmon finished these exclamations, Donald entered the room. He was met by his wife, who threw her arms about his neck, and told him of the name she had determined on, expecting him to receive the news as joyfully as she had communicated it.

“ It is a sweet and pretty name,” said Donald, smiling, though there was evidently a tinge of sadness in his expression.

Still,” said Flora, I fear you do not quite like it.”

Yes indeed I do like it,” said Donald with more afiection, “ for it sounds of our own hills ; and Aluine is expressive of that loveliness I know the child wdll inherit from her mother. Lorma ^ however, you remember was the wife of Erragon ; yet as deep earnestness and fidelity are such noble traits in any character, it did not fail to make sacred her love for Aldo, — and in that light may not be inexpressive of what we wish our own child to be. Crimora, which signifies, a ivoman of a great soul^ is, how'- ever, the name 'we must ever pray that she may be worthy to bear, though we .will call her by the sweet ones of your choice.”

The little Tot now stood out in the world with a name, and grew apace, and all who saw her longed to possess her. She was surpassingly lovely, but of a temperament bordering so much on the retiring and melancholy, that many thought it portended a sad and mysterious history. She elicited at all times and places unbounded admiration ; but if for it she was much indebted to ‘her natural amiability, no less was due to her education. She was not spoiled by flattery nor indulgence. Pure parental love, sincerity, truthfulness, and a high purpose ever in viev^, directed her steps. Did she love flowers ? Yes, passionately, but not Botany. Did she love minerals and shells ? Yes, much, but not Mineralogy nor Conchology. Did she love birds ? Yes, if they were pretty and gentle, and sang well, and she loved Ornithology, because it tells of the habits of those little feathered spirits,’’ she used to say, who have sorrows, and joys, and loves like my own.” Indeed, she loved deeply every thing that was pure, chaste, beautiful and good, while — though it could not be said that she hated anything — she instinctively shrank from every object which did not bear the stamp of refinement. She became suddenly s^^d and dejected when compelled to view any thing awry with nature, — that was harsh, hypocritical or vulgar. She would often ask her parents such questions as these : “ If our Maker is sp good, why does he permit his creatures to suffer from hunger and destitution ? Why do people ever quarrel ? Why do they go to war ? Why do not the birds associate more with us ? — for they must know we would not hurt them ; and why does not God take all children to himself, while they are innocent as He made them ? ”

“ My dear Aluine,” the good mother would reply — and always with profound reverence when she touched on what she supposed to be a sacred subject — ^‘the first man

CRIMORA .

sinned, and thus brought darkness and tribulation upon the whole human family.”

And was it not very cruel, mother,” the little one would ask with the most earnest look, to make us all suffer — so many millions as you say there are on the earth — just because he chose to be naughty himself? ”

It was so, indeed,” responded the mother with tenderness, and so God in his goodness, to redeem the world from the fearful consequences of Adam’s transgression, gave His only Son up to a bitter death.”

And was not that cruel, too ? ” replied Aluine, whose heart and eyes were overflowing with sympathy ; I wonder why the good God who sees everything, when he saw Adam was going to do wrong, did not prevent him, and thus save you, dear mother, and all of us, from unhappiness, and save his own Son, too ? ”

My child ! my child ! it is a great mystery ; but He is good, and you will know all hereafter. I cannot myself see, why depriving one of a free will to do evil, would not have been t)etter than the. allowing of a trifling error to enthrall the race, and entail on unborn myriads of immortals eternal punishment,' — and for that, too, in which they were not participants.”

To the lovely Lorma this was in truth a strange mystery, while her mother’s injunction, to be good,” was wholly unnecessary, as she did not know how to do or think anything that was evil. To be sure, when she saw the burly priests gathering in the pence from the poor, she manifested an acuteness of contempt which the most casual observer would have paused to contemplate ; yet she wished them no harm, and seemed to feel more disgust for 9

CRIMORA.

the act, than the actors. If, however, the character of the latter had been to her as readable as the foraier, a transfer in some of her thoughts would have taken place ; for, whenever the poor approached her, their looks were responded to, before their lips could breathe their wants. One day, when arrayed in a costly frock — the good taste of a doting parent — a frock of pure white, which made her look like one of the bnght angels our imaginations often picture in the heavenly choir — a man with a white cravat, and an austere and puritanic face, took occasion to talk to her on the vanity and folly of such a ‘‘ sinful rig,” as he called it. She immediately flew to her mother to ask an explanation, for only yesterday,” said she, ‘‘ I gave all the money I had to poor Margaret, from whom this same man took his church rates — leaving her without a penny.”

We must try and think that the man is good,” said the interrogated, though it is hard on Margaret, who, though she has forty acres of land rented to her, is devoured by taxes, and is miserably poor. She pays four pounds sterling to government, eight pounds for poor rates, and seven pounds ten shillings to the church, which has brought her and her family to^ the very dust. The man you speak of probably felt that he was doing his duty — which includes all moral obligations — but which an enlargement of his understanding would have shown to be just the reverse ; for no oppression can be justifiable in the sight of heaven. Humanity and mercy are golden keys to the portals of il Paradisoy

Ah, mother! a man who has no heart to guide him in his duty is not fit for heaven, for he cannot be good ; and

CRIMORA.

if he goes I cannot live there with him. Such a man would say, that the plumage of the angels is too delicate, (and she recalled what ^ the clergyman had said to her) ; that the golden harps are too gaudy ; that the precious stones in the gates are too valuable for such a setting, and that all the songs of joy are a mockery of the solemn and gloomy visage he had^borne through life. 0 mother! do not talk to me of such people ‘ soaring on the wings of faith to heaven,’ if you do, I fear I shall have no ^desire to go hence ; but when you speak of the harmony and affection there is there — that all is love and charity, and that there is no discord there — then I long to go Avith you and father, and wander in those bright fields where celestial flowers know no fading.”

Such a region as Aluine last spoke of, was the only one really suited to her nature. When abroad in her own father’s fields, beside their streams and flowers, Avhen gazing on the distant hills robed in the last rays of the setting sun, no being could have been more devoutly happy than she was. So full was her swelling soul of the glory of all that Avas round about her, she would sometimes stretch forth her white arms as though she longed to reach it, clasp it, and gather it all into her own pure and gentle bosom, where it would find a welcome and genial home.

• Mother,” the fair girl would say, if the birds could sleep on the mountains while the light was about them, how gladly would I hold the sun from going down.” The mother did not understand her, but thought she referred to some interior light, and to innocence. “ And would it be wrong to kneel, mother, to these forests, Avhich, Avith this golden tint of evening on their heads, seemboAving to

CRIMORA.

to the Deity? — or to the great rocks, mother, ^yhich, when I have hallooed to them in glad admiration, have taken my voice and echoed it louder and louder, upward and onward to heaven ? They say that I am beautiful. It is because you and all nature are beautiful. The Earth is beautiful, and thence beautiful flowers spring from her. I sometimes stay my hands from gathering her fragrant ofispring for fear of grieving her. Would not you grieve if she v^as to tear me from you ?

This tenderness, this simplicity and aptness of thought, this natural and pure religion of the heart, constituted Aluine Lorma’s chief fascination, and never forsook her ; and though the sensuous, and austere formalist, denounced her actions, it was because she trusted to the sacred impulses of a lofty and pure nature with which her Maker had endowed her, and chose to follow its dictates, rather than the, often unmeaning, vulgar and unnatural, conventionalisms of society. Her soul was so refined, so artless, so full of love and adoration of her Creator and His beautiful works, she knew it could not lead her astray ; and though she possessed transcendant charms of person, they all paled before the light of her divine spirit, which sometimes with an unearthly splendor burned in her large lustrous eyes — eyes into which no mortal could gaze without feeling an earnestness for heaven.

Advancing now towards womanhood, the epithet, fascinating, which had been applied to the lovely Lorma, was more than ever applicable ; for to all that, vvith which she w^as naturally endowed, was added the graces of a highly cultivated intellect. The w’eak and imbecile shrank from the thought of scrutinizing her mental calibre, while they

CRIMORA .

adored and drew near. The vicious quailed before her gaze, yet revering her, sought to follow afar off. The impure stood abashed, and r^her pleaded for mercy than scoffed. Those of lofty sentiments — wearing an impress of nature’s nobleness — experienced in her society a peculiar transanimation, an undefined harmony and concord of feeling, which wafted them along through unmarked hours, as over fields of flowers.

2*

C RIM OK A.

Chapter II

As we shall have considerable to say of one Mr. Smithers — John Knox Calvin Smithers — let ns give a brief account of his birth, education, habits, and progress, up to the time we find him planning to wrest from an Italian invalid, the wealth designed for a more worthy object.

In one of the narrowest and dirtiest streets ; in one of the smallest and dirtiest houses in Glasgow ; on a morning so cold, and chilly, and cheerless, that the mildest tempered baby imaginable would have been badly influenced by the apparent inhospitableness thus thmst upon its ten^ der sensibilities, — young John Knox Calvin Smithers opened his insignificant eyes on creation. What his first impressions were we have not learned, but we think oufs would have been — that a little more light and luxury in our apartment, a little less of poveii:y and pinching want, would have added materially to our comfori and conscience.

John Smithers, the elder, was at this time a very poor man — keeping in the front part of his house a small shop, where, by toys and toil, he succeeded in creating life and wearing it out. He was also a religious man — religious in the Calvinistic sense of the word, and so rigid and formal that he would have rather seen on a Sabbath morning the entire populace gathered around the stake of a martyr,

than to have had a re viler of his creed live unpunished. He was so exact in his family, that no member of it dared to err himglingly ; this caused them to be astute, deceptive, watchful, intriguing.

On the Sabbath, J ohn Knox Calvin was whipped to the Sabbath School, and whipped if he was faulty in his catechism ; while during week days, from the time he could well go alone, he was made to tend the shop. In this last vocation he was particularly instructed to watch the customers, to see if they stole anything ; and though he might not have detected any one pilfering, his mind was strongly impressed with the idea that the people generally were untrustworthy, if not actually villains, and that it was necessary to regard them lynx-eyedly ; while there could be but little virtue in abstaining from driving with them the best possible bargain, by every possible means.

The training young Smithers thus had, prepared him thoroughly to cope with the world, and before he left his father’s shop, there had been broad cast upon his heart, all the seeds of chicanery allowed to germinate within the pale of the law.

Ambition, knowledge of the world, confidence in his own capacities, induced John Knox Calvin, at an early age, to proceed to London, and commence trading on his own account. His plans thrived according to his most sanguine expectations, which proved the shrewdness of his calculations. Close attention to business won for him money ; and a strict observance of all the exterior, soulless forms of religion, a corresponding amount of respect. He, however, who noticed particularly this young man, saw in his furtive unconfiding glance, something that be-

CRIMORA.

tokened no response to the sacred mandate, Love one another.”

As I have said, Smithers was one of the most punctual of church-goers ; and to this fact the attention of a young lady was called by her aunt, who sat near him in the temple of the Lord. Prudence,” said she, on leaving the sanctuary, that is a most proper and good young man. I’ll be bound to say, for he is ever punctual in this holy place ; and his responses are so audible ; and I learn — for I have particularly inquired about him — that he is in excellent business, and that his hand and heart are free.”

His hand and heart may be free, for aught I care,” responded the young lady addressed — Miss Prudence Christian Lathmon — with contemptuous pertness ; for what have I to do with tradesmen ? ”

“ It is true,” said the dame, it would be well to look higher ; but then you are fast reaching womanhood, and no suit has yet been pressed ; then, again, your father has another wife and child, who control him as they will ; so from that source you cannot expect much favor or fortune, a fact which should induce you to be less tenacious of the position your birth most justly entitles you to.”

‘‘ But I would die, rather than marry a tradesman ! ” exclaimed Prudence, while her eyes flashed indignation.

To be proud is not a Christian virtue,” responded the aunt, meekly, and certainly, after all the example you have had set before you, you should be a pattern of humility and propriety. And be assured. Prudence, it is much better to marry a tradesman with money ^ than a coxcomb or younger brother without it. With the former you can set up your establishment ; and what with your piety and

CRIM.ORA.

‘ 21

known respectability, can carry full sw^ay over the whole end of the town in which you may reside.”

To be respectable^ is, I admit,” said Prudence, softening in her asperity, a very high consideration ; but we need not talk of these things now.”

The truth was, the aunt had become weary of the young vixen, and wished to get rid of her ; and to this end had already arranged affairs, so that Smithers should be presented. Smithers, in the mean time, puffed up by the favor shown to him, really began to imagine himself goodlooking, and finally to fancy himself in love.

One accustomed to contemplate a height, becomes so familiar with it, that to reach its summit appears far more easy to him, than it does to one who looks on it for the first time ; so John Knox Calvin Smithers, so constantly contemplated a marriage in high life — so intently fixed his ambitious gaze on an elevated position in society, that he felt himself prepared to take any stride, or any number of steps, how’ever gauehement^ to reach it.

Smithers’ tact in discovering the weak points of those with whom he conversed, — his natural shrewdness, and his conviction of the necessity of making available, and to the utmost, every vantage ground allowed at any point — gained for him triumphs few could have anticipated. In this case, however, of lady Prudence, there Avas* working in his favor a negative influence, which. escaped the observation of but few ; and that was, the absence of all other admirers of the object of his ambitious choice.

On the part of Prudence Christian Lathmon — that which had the greatest influence with her under the blessing of her aunt, was Mr. Smither’s respectability ; for the

CRIMORA.

old lady would say : He has no family name to boast of, it is true ; but then he is so respectable.’’ That is, — he attended divine service regularly, and conformed strictly to the externals of the sectj with all the hypocrisy he was an adept in from long practice.

The interview, — shrewdly planned by the aunt, — opened a way to Smithers, which he knew w^ell how to avail himself of; and pushing his suit to extremities, brought about a marriage, before the lady hardly knew who the gentleman was, — except that he claimed to be a very respectable man, and on the high road to wealth. The wedding was a brilliant one, (we shall have occasion to refer hereafter to some parties who enjoyed it,) and the respectable Mr. Smithers and his new bride, in a respectable mansion, in a respectable part of London, seemed starting as fairly as most couples do, for the goal of happiness.