The vase, at
last, becomes a lamp of beauty, fit to animate the councils of the
great, or the solitude of the altar.
Two or three women there have been, who have thus grown even more
beautiful with age. We know of many more men of whom this is true.
These have been heroes, or still more frequently poets and artists;
with whom the habitual life tended to expand the soul, deepen and vary
the experience, refine the perceptions, and immortalize the hopes and
dreams of youth.
They were persons who never lost their originality of character, nor
spontaneity of action. Their impulses proceeded from a fulness and
certainty of character, that made it impossible they should doubt or
repent, whatever the results of their actions might be.
They could not repent, in matters little or great, because they felt
that their notions were a sincere exposition of the wants of their
souls. Their impulsiveness was not the restless fever of one who must
change his place somehow or some-whither, but the waves of a tide,
which might be swelled to vehemence by the action of the winds or the
influence of an attractive orb, but was none the less subject to fixed
laws.
A character which does not lose its freedom of motion and impulse by
contact with the world, grows with its years more richly creative,
more freshly individual.
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