Beauchamp; or, The Error.James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
Beauchamp; or, The Error.
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Great Britain -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
We must go back to Stephen Gimlet's cottage and the preceding night.
Beauchamp and Captain Hayward stood together by the table, when their
two fair visitors had left them, waiting for the return of the
gamekeeper, and they both remained silent for several minutes. There
are times, when great things just accomplished, of whatever kind, or
character, seem to oppress the spirit and keep it down, as it were,
under a heavy weight. Nor is it altogether uninteresting to inquire
what is the cause of this oppression--the remote, often unseen, even
indistinct cause. It is not sorrow, it is not regret; for the weight
of thought seems cast upon us as often by a joyful as a sorrowful
event; and I speak not at all of the effect of misfortune, but simply
of that which is produced upon the mind by a great deed done--great,
at least, to the person who has performed it. I am inclined to think,
that the sort of load which I speak of, may be traced to the
consciousness of all the vast multitude of consequences of which every
act is the source. Not the slightest thing we do that does not send a
thrill vibrating along the endless chains of cause and effect to the
utmost limit of time through the whole grand machine of future
existence. Man dies, but not one of his acts ever dies, each
perpetuated and prolonged for ever by interminable results, affecting
some beings in every age to come--ay, even the slightest. But that
which is to follow only becomes a question with man when the deed is
to his own cognizance important as affecting himself and those around
him. The eye of God sees all; but it is merely when the consequences
are visible to our own limited ken, that we feel the strange
involution of our destiny with that of others, and, when what we have
just done is in its immediate results likely to affect us and those we
love profoundly, that we pause to consider all the wide extent of the
future which that act implies. Then we feel as if we had plunged
headlong into an ocean of endless waves, and the weight of the waters
oppresses the heart and spirit. We ask, what next? and then, what will
follow? And in the game of chess that we are playing against Fate,
look for the next move of our great adversary, and all the
consequences of that which we have ourselves just made.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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