Richard Henry Dana: Paul Felton (1822) 1

— From his intellect
  And from the stillness of abstracted thought
  He asked repose.

And fears, and fancies, thick upon me came 
Dim sadness, and blind thoughts I knew not nor could name.

Who thinks, and feels
And recognises ever and anon 
The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul,
Why need such man go desperately astray,
And nurse the dreadful appetite of death ? » 
                                                      (Wordsworth)

Do not torment me ! 

Pray, and beware the foul fiend. 
                                    (Shakespeare)



Paul Felton was the son of a well educated 
country gentleman of moderate fortune, who, 
having lost his wife early in life, took upon 
himself the education of his son and daughter, 
from an unwillingness to be deprived of their 
society, and as a relief in his melancholy hours. 

The retired life which the father led prevented 
the son's having many acquaintances, and 
checked those open, communicative feelings 
which make schoolboys so pleasing. The 
serious and reserved manners which the father 
had fallen into, rather from his loss than any 
thing native in his disposition, made an early 
impression on the son; and from childhood 
Paul was retired, silent and thoughtful. His 
character was of a strong cast ; and not being 
left to its free play amongst his equals, it worked 
with a violence increased by its pent up and 
secret action. 

The people of the neighbourhood were illiter- 
ate and uncouth, for the most part having that 
rough and bold bearing which comes from an 
union of ignorance and independence. Paul's 
distant manner appeared to them like an assump- 
tion of superiority ; and on all occasions which 
offered, they were careful to show their dislike 
of it. This not only increased his reserve, but 
gave to his mind a habit of looking on strangers 
as in some sort enemies ; and when passing any 
one who was not a familiar, he felt as if there 
were something like mutual hostility between 
them. With all this he had good affections ; 
and when looking out from his solitude upon the 
easy and mingling cheerfulness of some, and the 
strong attachments which here and there bound 
others fast together, he saw  how beautiful was 
that which was companionable and kind in the 
heart of man, and his eye rested on it, and his 
soul longed after it. 

So evil, however, is the nature of men, that 
almost the love of what is excellent may lead to 
sin if we do not take heed to the way in which 
we seek it; and we muy see, and understand, and 
wish for it, till we come to envy it in another :—  
We may gaze upon a character that is fair and 
elevated and happy, till we feel its very good- 
ness stirring in us dislike. Paul had no settled 
ill will towards any one ; though, perhaps, there 
was mingled with his repining somewhat of envy 
at tho happiness and case of mind in others. 

As he advanced in life his passions waxed 
stronger, and he craved an object about which 
they might live and grow. His retired habits, 
however, had left him without any of that care- 
less confidence which helps along in so wonder- 
ful a manner men of the world; and with a 
perfect consciousness of his own powers, he was 
distrustful of his ability to make them known, 
and of the estimate which others would put upon 
them. This same uneasy distrust ran into all 
his feelings ; and with a character to love earn- 
estly and tenderly, the fear that his personal 
appearance and somewhat awkward manners 
deprived him of the power of showing what his 
heart was susceptible of, made him almost miser- 
able with the thought that such feelings were 
ever given to him. " When I am tired of soli- 
tude," he would say, " and my heart aches with 
the void I feel, shall all that I am conscious of 
within me as beautiful and true, be made scoff 
of by another, because I have not the fair form 
and manner of other men, and my tongue can- 
not so well tell what is within me ? Shall all 
that is sincere in me be questioned or looked on 
with indifference ?" So far had even his good 
affections become a torment to him, that all was 
at war and in opposition in his character. At one 
time he was busy in scornful speculation and 
doubt upon his passions, — and at another, he 
would urge them on, and give them rein that he 
might feel all the self torture they would bring. 
No one thing was left to its natural play — as 
making a part of his daily life — but existed in 
excess, or not at all. This change and opposi- 
tion broke up that settled state in which the sense 
of truth puts us, and left him restless and dis- 
turbed, till at last his mind seemed given for 
little else, but to speculate upon his feelings, — 
part or unite them, quell them, or inflame them 
nigh to madness. He who so far questions his 
own nature will question all things, and will 
bring the most pain and misery on those who are 
dearest to him because he is for ever asking for 
an assurance of returned affections, and seeking 
it in the power he feels himself to have over the 
object he loves. He inflicts his tortures and still 
doubts; and goes on to the end, working his 
own misery, and seeing the object of which he is 
most fond, perishing like himself. 

Paul was nearly alone in the world. His 
father was for the most part lost in his own 
thoughts. His sister, though lively and talkative, 
had neither deep feeling, nor much strength of 
intellect. So much action and sound to little 
purpose wore on Paul's spirit, and though he was 
not without affection for her, a sneer would 
sometimes escape him in his impatience. He 
would shut himself up in his chamber, or wan- 
der off where no human being was to be met 
with, without so much as a dog for a companion. 

He had now lived many years a self-tormentor, 
and without communion with any one to relieve 
his mind, when Esther Waring, the daughter of 
his father's friend, came on a visit to Paul's 
sister. Her disposition was cheerful and social, 
and she had a thoughtful, active mind, which 
drew and fixed the attention of those she talked 
with. Her feelings were quick and kind, and 
the tenor of her thinking and remarks showed 
that they were deep. Her black hair fell round 
her dark, quiet eye, which seemed to rest on what 
the mind was showing it ; and when she spoke, 
a light shone through it from the very recesses 
of the soul, as the stars shoot up from the depths 
of the waters, brightening what they shine 
through. Her form was beautifully moulded, 
and her movements gave it that pliableness and 
delicacy which so touch and interest men of 
grave or melancholy natures. 

Paul would often ramble among the hills, 
dwelling upon his own thoughts, and seeking for 
sympathy in nature; but she did not always 
answer him ; and then it was that he stood like 
a withered thing amidst her  fresh and living 
beauty. Sometimes he would sit alone on the top 
of one of the chains of these neighbouring hills, 
and look out on the country beneath him, as if im- 
ploring to be taken to a share of the joy which 
it seemed sensible to as it lay in the sunshine. 
He would call in the spirit to the birds that past 
over him, and to the stream that wound away till 
lost in the common brightness of the day, to stay 
and comfort him. They heard him not, but left 
him to cares, and the waste of time, and his own 
thoughts. 

It was after one of these melancholy days 
that he returned home about dusk, and not 
having heard of the arrival of a stranger, entered 
the parlour with a gloomy countenance, his eyes 
cast down, his full black eyebrows bent together, 
and his lips moving as if he were lost in talk 
with himself. Without observing that there was 
any one in the room, he walked directly to the 
window, and stood looking out on the evening 
sky. His powerful face and the characteristic 
movement of his body attracted the attention of 
Esther ; and her eyes fixed on him unconsciously 
as he stood partly turned from her. He was 
below the common height, with a person square, 
muscular, and somewhat heavy ; but he had the 
air and bearing of one of a deep, resolute and 
thoughtful mind — as being one of those men, 
whom, if a woman loves at all, she loves with 
the devotion of a martyr. 

"Paul," said his father. — "Sir," answered 
Paul without turning his head. — " Here is my 
old friend's daughter, Miss Waring."— Little 
used to society; and watchful lest others should 
mark his defects, his manner, when in company, 
was at all times somewhat embarrassed. He 
turned, and saw the fair face of Esther. It was 
slightly flushed, and the light which filled her 
eye and played over her countenance broke 
upon the gloomy face of Paul, and touched the 
sluggish spirit within him with a sensation of 
warmth and life. He made such apology for 
his inattention as his sudden introduction would 
allow of. His manner was constrained, and 
a little awkward. It was, however, the con- 
straint of a certain sensitiveness which gives 
more interest and delight than that sort of 
acquired, conventional ease and grace so com- 
mon in the world. 

A country tea-table is a social affair ; and Paul 
lost for once a little of his taciturnity. The 
presence of an agreeable stranger is a great 
restorer of the spirits to those who are little in 
the world ; and the mixture of playful and seri- 
ous in Esther's conversation, and the freshness 
which we feel coming from a new mind, kept 
Paul till a late hour in the parlour. His next 
day's walk was a little shortened, and the regu- 
lar tread of his step as he paced his chamber was 
not heard so long, and was often broken. It 
was evident that the settled gloom of the mind 
was from day to day breaking up, and that new 
thoughts and objects were coming in ; and that 
which had bound the soul like ice was melting 
and loosening and going off. He continued his 
walks more from habit than to relieve the 
intenseness of his thoughts, and his path lay 
less over the heath and sand than usual, and 
more amongst the grass, and trees, and flowers ; 
his sense of the beautiful was becoming more 
wakeful and softening the sternness of his nature. 

The change went on so gradually and secretly, 
that it was a long time before he was conscious 
any was taking place. After breakfast he loiter- 
ed in the parlour, and his evening passed quietly 
away in mild conversation with Esther. The 
beautiful blending of the thoughtful and gay in 
her manner and remarks played on him like sun 
and shade beneath a tree ; and tranquillizing and 
gentle emotions were stealing into him unawares. 

Nor was it he alone whoso heart was touched. 
Paul was not a man whom a woman could 
be long with and remain indifferent to. The 
strength of passion and intellect so distinctly 
marked in his features, in the movements of the 
face, and in every gesture— the deep, but rich, 
mellow tone of bis voice, with a certain mys-
terious seriousness over the whole, excited a 
restless curiosity to get more into his charac- 
ter;— and a woman, who is at the trouble of 
prying into the constitution of a man's heart and 
mind, is in great danger of falling in love with 
him for her pains. Esther did not make this 
reflection when she began ; and so taken up was 
she in the pursuit, that she never once thought 
what it might end in, nor of turning back. 

Paul was differently educated from the run of 
men ; his father disliked the modern system, and 
so Paul's mind was no encyclopedia, nor book of 
general reference. He read not a great deal, but 
with great care ; and his reading lay back 
amongst original thinkers, and those who were 
almost supernaturally versed in the mysteries of 
the heart of man. Their clear and direct man- 
ner of uttering their thoughts had given a 
distinctness to all his opinions, and a plain way 
of expressing them; and all he had to say 
savoured of reflection and individuality. He 
was a man precisely calculated to interest a 
woman of feeling and good sense, who had 
grown tired of the elegant and indefinite. 


He never thought of the material world as 
formed on purpose to be put into a crucible ; nor 
did he analyse it and talk upon it, as if he knew 
quite as much about it as He who made it. To 
him it was a grand and beautiful mystery— in 
his better moments, a holy one. It was power, 
and intellect, and love, made visible, calling out 
all the sympathies of his being, and causing him 
to feel the living Presence throughout the whole. 
Material became intellectual beauty with him ; 
he was as a part of the great universe, and 
all he looked or thought on was in some 
way connected with his own mind and heart. 
The conversation of such a man (begin where 
it might) always tending homeward to the 
bosom, was not likely to pass from a woman 
like Esther without leaving some thoughts 
which would be dear to her, to mingle with her 
own, and raising emotions which she would love 
to cherish. 
Two minds of a musing cast will have some 
valued feelings and sentiments, which will 
soon make an intergrowth and become bound 
together. Where this happens in reserved 
minds, it goes on so secretly, and spreads so 
widely before it is found out, that when at last 
one thought or passion is touched by some little 
circumstance, or word, or look, a sympathizing 
feeling runs through the whole ; and they who 
had not before known or intimated that they 
loved, find themselves in full and familiar union, 
with one heart and one being. 

Esther's visit had now continued so long, that 
she was sensible it was proper for her to return 
home unless urged to remain; but it so hap- 
pened that she never thought of going, without 
at the same time thinking of Paul, and with that 
came a procrastinating, lingering spirit. There 
was always something happening which was 
reason enough for her putting off the mention of 
the affair. She argued the matter, and said to 
herself, Paul did not cause the delay ; but her 
heart beat quicker, and she felt that she was 
trying to deceive herself. — " I will know whether 
he cares for me," said she. " There is some- 
thing strangely inscrutable in him. I must, I 
will see into that scaled up heart." — The hour 
came ; but, in spite of her efforts, her voice was 
tremulous when she spoke of leaving the family. 
Paul was sitting opposite her at the table. His 
heart sunk at the words. He looked up, and his 
eyes met hers. The colour came to his cheek : 


She blushed, and her eyes fell beneath his. 
Mr. Felton and his daughter protested against 
her going.—" I hope," said Paul at last.— She 
looked up at him once more. He coloured 
deeper than before, and was silent. It stung him 
to the quick that any one should see the struggle 
of his feelings ; and he left the room. 

As he traversed his chamber, his step grew 
quicker and quicker, and instead of gaining com- 
posure, his mind was more and more agitated. He 
became too impatient to bear it any longer, and 
was hurrying out to find relief in the open air, 
when he met Esther in the entry. Ashamed to let 
Paul see her emotion, she was passing him with her 
face turned from him. — " The show of concern,' 
said Paul, without calling her by name — Esther 
stopped—" the show of concern for us in some 
may seem impertinent, and offend us more than 
their indifference or dislike. If I was too obtru- 
sive just now, let me hope for your forgiveness.“ 

" Mr. Felton officious ! And can he think me 
so frivolous or vain a girl as not to feel any token 
of regard from him a cause for self-esteem." 

" I did not humble myself to extort praise, Miss 
Waring ; it is enough if I have not offended." 

 "Neither did I mean it as such," replied 
Esther. " I was not so weak as to think your 
self approval needed my good opinion to sup- 
port it." 

"Do not misunderstand me," replied Paul. 
" I spoke in true humility, and not in pride. 
Not to have offended you was all I dared look for." 
" Has it ever seemed to you that any of your 
many notices were other than grateful to me ? 
If so, my manner but poorly expresses what I 
feel. Go where I may, Mr. Felton, I shall 
remember how much my mind owes you — how 
much the thoughts you have given it have done 
for my heart. And I hope it is not in my dispo- 
sition to be thankless for any good I may 
receive." 

"Had I a claim," answered Paul, "it is not 
your gratitude I'd ask for. The heart that longs 
for sympathy and finds it not, what else can 
touch it ?— Forgive me, I know not what I say. 
—-To be remembered in kindness by you, Esther, 
shall be a drop to comfort this thirsty soul." 
„ And can a soul large as yours, and filled with 
all things to delight another's mind, seem deso- 
late to you?" 

" Is it enough, think you, Esther, to be gazed 
upon ? Or can the imagination satisfy the crav- 
ings here, at the heart ?" 

" The heart that does crave fellowship strongly, 
may surely find it, Paul, if we do not perversely, 
and for our self-torture, shut it up." 

"Yes, but it is not every passer-by that I 
would go with. O, she must be one so excel- 
lent, so much above me ! And yet I would not 
take her, did she come to me in mercy only. 
It drives me mad to think on't. For me there 
is no fellow. — Alone, alone, I must go alone 
through the wide and populous earth," he cried, 
leaving her suddenly.


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