Sensibility [pp. 79-87]

SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.
were soon dried, and the remainder of the evening passed very pleasantly.
One evening Montague and Gordon met the Clare mont family, with a small select party, at the house of
a friend. Gordon, as usual, secured a seat next Mar garette, who was also attended by Alice, vwho had learn ed that to be near her, was the surest way to be near
the idol of her imagination, the Black Prince. Montaguc
likewise stood near them; for he was beginning to find,
that there was something extremely attractive, even in
Margarette's apparent coldness; or rather, that it was
peculiarly interesting to observe marks of deep feeling,
under so calm, so placid an exterior. Gordon recollect ed the conversation concerning Lord Nelson, and the
effect produced on Margarette; and resolving in his turn
to find a passage to her sensibilities, led the conversa tion to heroes and great men. He made some very
eloquent remarks, as he apprehended, on heroism and
greatness, which had previously been arranged with
great care.
" Whom do you consider truly great men, Mr. Gor don?" asked Alice.
" Alexander-Louis the Fourteenth-Napoleon Voltaire and Lord Byron," said Gordon. "Each in
his turn, and in his own way, has dazzled the whoale
world!"
"Dazzled, but not enlightened!" said Montague.
Margarette looked up with one of her brightest smiles,
and Montague felt, at the bottom of his heart, that it
was warm, as well as brilliant.
"By Vesta," thought Gordon, "she has rewarded
him for those two words, with that smile, which I have
made such useless efforts to obtain! and he has made
no effort at all!-I abandon her!"
" Whom do you esteem great men, Mr. Montague?"
inquired Margarette.
"0, there have been hosts of them in the world,"
answered Montague; "but perhaps it would be better
to tell you what I call true greatness, than to name those
whom I esteem great. True greatness, I apprehend,
consists in conquering or in duly restraining the ruling
passion; in forgiving an injury, when we have fair
opportunity for avenging ourselves; in sacrificing our
own feelings and interests for the good of others; in
that benevolence that leads to a forgetfulness of self, in
efforts to promote the happiness and welfare of mankind."
"The world will hardly subscribe to your explanation
of greatness," said Gordon, with something like a sneer,
"and few are great!"
"Few are-but many might be," said Montague.
"Every one who foregoes his own personal good, for
the good of others; who forgets his own happiness, in
efforts to promote the happiness of those around him,
and who will not be turned aside from his purpose by
the obstacles, or the unkindness, or the ridicule with
which he meets, is great."
"Who sees such greatness?" asked Gordon.
"It has sometimes been conspicuous on earthb as in
the case of Howard, Peter the Great of Russia, Wilberforce, Clarkson) Mrs. Fry, and multitudes of others,"
said Montague. "But no matter whether it is seen by
the world or not, provided its influence be felt. And
there is no one, capable of moral action. who has not
almost daily opportunities for exercising true greatness
and magnanimity of soul; and should every one im prove the opportunity, the wilderness of this world
would soon'be like Eden, and her deserts like the
garden of the Lord!'"
Margarette's countenance again beamed with-plea sure and approbation, as she said-" Moral grandeur,
would then be your definition of greatness, Mr. Mon tague?"
"It would."
"And the only true one, according to my apprehlien sion," said Margarette, " and I have often had the plea sure of seeing it exemplified. And this moral greatness
leads to subllimity of thought," she added. "It expands
the soul, and elevates the conception. As an instance:
I once attended a prayer meeting, where was a man
who had no more than ordinary capacity, and who knew
nothing beyond the cultivation of his little farm, and
the path to heaven. He could scarcely read intelligibly.
Being called on to lead in the devotions of the evening,
he knelt down, and begall in this manner-' O, thou,
who lightest up heaven!' To me, it was like a shock
of electricity! I have thought of it a thousand times
since, and doubt wvhetlher B]yron, with all his genius, in
his happiest momnent of poetic inspiration, ever had so
sublime a conception."
" Vould you like to examine the prints on the cen tre table, Miss Lansdale?" asked G-or(lon, risingiI, and
offering her his arm. \With a heart bonyant as the
thistle's down, Alice accepted the proffered arm, and
Montague secured the seat she vacated.
" There is nothing here that you havre not seen a
hundred times," said Gordon-" but I painted to get
into a warmer latitude. The north pole has few
charms for mne, notwithstanding its brilliant corruscations. By the way, is this cousin of yours ever warmer
than the summit of Mont Blanc?"
"Why ask me such a question?" said Alice.
" Because I thought you would be likely to know,"
answered Gordon.
"She is much admired and beloved," said Alice, with
a sigh. "I wish I had her power over the heart!"
" Admired she may be-but beloved is she?" said
Gordon.
"You surprise me, Mr. Gordon," said Alice. "I
thiought-I feared-I mean I conjectured"-and she
stopt short.
"WVhat did you think, fear, or conjecture, Miss
Lansdale?" asked Gordon.
" O nothing-nothing of any consequence," said she,
with real or assumed embarrassment.
" Now be frank, sweetest Alice," said Gordon, tenderly pressing her arm, whlichl was still locked in his,
to his side-" be flank, and tell me kindly what you
thought."
"Why I knew that you admired my cousin, and I
feared-pshaw-I mean that I thought you loved her,"
and she sighed again.
"O no, I could never love a block of marble, even if
moulded into a Venus," said Gordon. "Believe me,
sweet Alice, there must be some signs of sensibilitysome little warmth of feeling, to awaken the affections
of my heart. I couild never love the twin-sister to the
snow, and such I take Miss Claremont to be."
VoL. II.-12
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