VIII. — M. Ilcni-y Bcei>c, à (jcnèvc, au Gra/id-MezcL

Dear Hexhy,

Your letter of tlie ilth of January 1831 I received today. It lias somewhat raiscd niy drooping spirits and poured into my heart somc drops of tlie balm of friendship, ior I see yon are still ^\ luit von promised me to be, my IViend. Threc days ago I A\'role a letter to you, but 1 Avas not in sober sensés. AVhen youreceive it, burn itand forgct — , or rather keep it in a secret drawer as a proof of what extremities can drive a mind to, Avhen lorturcd ])V pain.

Although my feelings of a wild vengeance and my thoughts on the subjcct are entirely changed, my position is the same. The words youreadin the Galignaiii Messenger are either a trick of one wlio hâtes me, or an advice from a friend -vvho being unable to write to me directiy, put this in the papers to show me the path 1 ought to follow. But Avhichever it may be, l eau not deny that it is the most becoming to me in the présent

A IIKXllY UEEVE 30

circumstances. Ycs, I ani one of the richcst younjv mon in Poland and bclong to one of the most noble familles; and to strnggle for niy conntry and die is the only conduct fit for me. In thls thcre Is glory and hope of an eternal salvatlon; Avlthont it therc Isno hope, nohononr, no salvatlon. In a woi-d, there Is nothlng, savc shame and cnrse. I feel thls deeply, my dear Henry, and It oasts a veil ofsorrow npon my soûl. Ileaven grant that It may soon be removed ; foi', I will bo what I am to be or I wlU die wlthout any consolation. My grave itself shall be nnworthy of tlie slgh of the brave and the tear ofthe falr. ^Yhat avUI my iVlends, what wUl shc, my love ihlnk of me .' My frlends In a loud volce "wlllcry to me : « Yon are a coward; » and shc : « Yon are a traltor, for when I asked yon : « ^^ bat stands between us ? » You answered : « My country; » and now yon flce from ihe field, yon slcep In a dull drcam amld ihc riiins of Home, when thcre is no longer tune to medltatc over rnins, but when It Is tlme to bulld a new édifice over ihem, wltli llmbs and heads for a foundatlon and blood for cément. »

What shall I answer? Nothlng, for the only cscapc from thls is a gllmpsc of Fortune, or a haughtincss whlch laughs at calnmny and accusation.

Je suis cloué à Rome jusqu'au moment où mon père m'écrira de venir. Le ministre me refuse des passeports ; je n'ai point d'argent : matériellement, je suis dans l'impossibilité de bouger. Mais j'espère et je prie Dieu; je prie, car c'est ma seule ressource. jNIon père m'écrira l)lentôt de le rejoindre. Il est aussi bon Polonais qu'aucun en Pologne, et plus brave qu'aucun d'eux. Oui, il m'enverra l'ordre de venir, et alors je partirai.

But it Is impossible for anothcr to suffer what I do. I never leave mv room except to vislt Leach; I read or

',0 s. KRA^^IXSKT

lalhcr I ciuloavoiu" lo icatl in iiiy loncly rooin. My cycs oither lilled ^\ ilh toars, or dry ^^ith lagc cannot follow llic hlaclv Icitcrs iipon llie whllo paper. Oh! my doar Henry, Avhcii rowing Avitli yoii on l)lue Léman, wlicn lalking of love, of hope, of l'uUii'e liappiness, I never llionght thcre woukl arrive an lionr In >vliich I wonld see my lame slained and my lionour gone, Avilhont beinnal)le to make the least endeavoiir lo recover them. Never, Avlien I Avas happy in my love, >vhen I had manv presentiments of future glory, did I lliink that I -svould he obliged to dream while others are awake, to write Avhile olhers figlit, to drink wine wliile others drink blood, and to linger in a dungeon whilc others arise to freedom and light. AYhen I left Geneva, it was the ourse of Ileaven that drove me away from Switzerland. \\ ère I in Geneva, half of the obstacles that restrain me now should be nothing to me. jNIcrcyful Ileaven ! look upon me and let thy thundcr fall upon my head in ail its ^vrath, still not in this dull ^vay, but on the battle field, in the ranks of my brothers, amid the graves of my forcfathers, in my own dear country. There I beg to die seing amid the dim vapours of the agony of death, the Jiright dawn of Liberty, crying: « God and death to foes ! » Whatwill my friendsand IL herself think of me? Henry, Henry, I am indced wretchcd, miserably wretched. Evil destiny such as mine, is rarely found on earth.

But it is said that man ought never to despair in the guidance of Ileaven, for the Lord is above; and perhaps in few weeks my suffering will be over. Fancy me as I mount my horse, as I spur it onward amid the ranks of the enemy ; as I return with glory, or fall, unknown, unregarded, pierced by a thousand swords, yetever reniembering my Iriends and the friends of my loved one. Harry, I love, I love hcr slill, mv IL

A HENRY lîKKVI': r^l

Coiitending feelliigs fill my soûl and niny drive me lo ihe maduess of a murderer, and^xhile takingthe lives ol" otlier nien, cause me to cry as Ilamlet did : « A rat lor a ducat. » You hâve visllcd my lonely ehamher from which I so oftea looked upon llie sun setting amid tlie peaks of ihe Jura, and upon tlie Tort de l'Ecluse. In that place I saw lier for tlie last time. Ah! then, ail \vas joy and hope and heauty. It was in the spring-timo ; and as lier carriage advanced l)etwecn the mounlains,the trees in blossom bent dovvn thcir branches over it and distilled a dew of perfume roundabout. I was then happv, though sad. I was happy to talk with lier; to read on lier pallid brovv the sadncss she lelt at leavincf me: to notice in lier eyes, those suddcn glanées of love, the liohtninii' oftlie lover's heart. Ah ! ves it was a delif^htfui day. I was so young then. Now it seenis to me that I am old and that many ycars bave passed, since tiiat hour of love. May she bc blessed and happy! Mny life, that for me is a dark and dull twilight, be for lier a sunnv day. May it be so for you my friends wlio love me, and for you, my friend, my Henry, wlio love iiieso well. /aiiioyski is strong-hearted and noble. Ileaven graiit hini success ! AVlien I iiieet liim, if cver do, I sliall bow before liim.

Therc is in my writing, and perhaps in mv soûl loo, a great deal of poelical feeling; as for him , he bas it in action. Scnd me some new verses, I beg you. Continue to Write to me to Rome, but not beneatli the direction of Torlonia, only Poste restante. Now, whcn I am at the end oi tliis letter, a sudden inspiration like a niighty spell comes upon me and drives me to tell you, dear Henry, that 1 am still what I was once ; bold and passionate. My life is not yet over; my strength is not niclted into tears or sighs ; my love for my country burns

frl P. KliASÎXSKI A lIi:\l!V TiF.KVE

cvcr proiidlv in mv licaii. My love loi- lier is slill llic sanic as of vorc. Feoliiin- ihus, I A\ill enter upon tlie earcer, mcct with siieeess, and (iiially aviu a naine or lose ail, lo lise no more. ]5iit in lleaveii, ^\ hère tlien is Liherly and Love, Ave Avill ail nicel togcther and onr tears on ihis Avorld will then appcar as a eold evening's dew.

Farcwell. A\ rite as soon as possildc.

Yonrs raillifiillv till dealh.

22 janvier 1831. Rome.

Sh;. Kl!.

My kindcst compliments to vonr mother.

Mes compliments anx Révilliod. Leach vons remercie bien ponr votre sonvenir.

l-iook at thc instabilitv of luiman ihings. ^Vhen I was laking leave of Zamoyski at Ycrsoix, I hoped to see hini again in Poland and I was sure of it. And now pcrliaps J will never see liim again. Ile mav be killed ère I arrive. Look on this Henry and bow before thc Lord for "tis a fool who confides and hopes in this -world. If you ■Write to Auguste, cmbrasscz-Ie bien de ma part cl diteslui hc will never escape mv memorv.

IX'. — A M. le comte S. Krasinshi, Rome, Dahuino ^lO, poste restante.

Mon cher SicisMOxn,

Je vous ai écrit hier; et anjourd'hiii, je reçois votre lettre du 22 qui me rassure, tout en nie faisant sentir que j'ai mal dit ce que je voulais vous dire dans la lettre que vous aurez sans doute reçue avant celle-ci. J'y ai dit trop — et trop peu; brûlez ma lettre. Oh! si la distance pèse comme du plomb sur nos cœurs, combien son poids