her own conduct,
as a mother, she was ready, in all humility, to face it. Might I, as a
son, be equally able to answer for myself, and to show, when the Great
Judge demanded the question of me, whether I had done my own duty, and
honoured my father and mother! O popoi! My grandfather has quoted in his
memoir a line of Homer, showing how in our troubles and griefs the
gods are always called in question. When our pride, our avarice, our
interest, our desire to domineer, are worked upon, are we not for
ever pestering Heaven to decide in their favour? In our great American
quarrel, did we not on both sides appeal to the skies as to the
justice of our causes, sing Te Deum for victory, and boldly express our
confidence that the right should prevail? Was America right because
she was victorious? Then I suppose Poland was wrong because she was
defeated?--How am I wandering into this digression about Poland,
America, and what not, and all the while thinking of a little woman now
no more, who appealed to Heaven and confronted it with a thousand texts
out of its own book, because her son wanted to make a marriage not of
her liking? We appeal, we imprecate, we go down on our knees, we demand
blessings, we shriek out for sentence according to law; the great course
of the great world moves on; we pant, and strive, and struggle; we hate;
we rage; we weep passionate tears; we reconcile; we race and win; we
race and lose; we pass away, and other little strugglers succeed; our
days are spent; our night comes, and another morning rises, which shines
on us no more.

My letter to Madam Esmond, announcing my revolt and disobedience
(perhaps I myself was a little proud of the composition of that
document), I showed in duplicate to Mr. Lambert, because I wished him
to understand what my relations to my mother were, and how I was
determined, whatever of threats or quarrels the future might bring,
never for my own part to consider my separation from Theo as other than
a forced one. Whenever I could see her again I would. My word given
to her was in secula seculorum, or binding at least as long as my life
should endure. I implied that the girl was similarly bound to me, and
her poor father knew indeed as much. He might separate us; as he might
give her a dose of poison, and the gentle, obedient creature would take
it and die; but the death or separation would be his doing: let him
answer them. Now he was tender about his children to weakness, and