gave up, as far as ever was possible, the
thought of in any respect and in any shape acting upon others. Then I
myself was simply my own concern. How could I in any sense direct
others, who had to be guided in so momentous a matter myself? How could
I be considered in a position, even to say a word to them one way or the
other? How could I presume to unsettle them, as I was unsettled, when I
had no means of bringing them out of such unsettlement? And, if they
were unsettled already, how could I point to them a place of refuge,
when I was not sure that I should choose it for myself? My only line, my
only duty, was to keep simply to my own case. I recollected Pascal's
words, "Je mourrai seul." I deliberately put out of my thoughts all
other works and claims, and said nothing to any one, unless I was
obliged.

But this brought upon me a great trouble. In the newspapers there were
continual reports about my intentions; I did not answer them; presently
strangers or friends wrote, begging to be allowed to answer them; and,
if I still kept to my resolution and said nothing, then I was thought to
be mysterious, and a prejudice was excited against me. But, what was far
worse, there were a number of tender, eager hearts, of whom I knew
nothing at all, who were watching me, wishing to think as I thought, and
to do as I did, if they could but find it out; who in consequence were
distressed, that, in so solemn a matter, they could not see what was
coming, and who heard reports about me this way or that, on a first day
and on a second; and felt the weariness of waiting, and the sickness of
delayed hope, and did not understand that I was as perplexed as they
were, and, being of more sensitive complexion of mind than myself, were
made ill by the suspense. And they too of course for the time thought me
mysterious and inexplicable. I ask their pardon as far as I was really
unkind to them. There was a gifted and deeply earnest lady, who in a
parabolical account of that time, has described both my conduct as she
felt it, and her own feelings upon it. In a singularly graphic, amusing
vision of pilgrims, who were making their way across a bleak common in
great discomfort, and who were ever warned against, yet continually
nearing, "the king's highway" on the right, she says, "All my fears and
disquiets were speedily renewed by seeing the most daring of our
leaders, (the same who had first forced his way through the palisade,
and in whose cou