diff options
Diffstat (limited to '8206-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 8206-h/8206-h.htm | 11015 |
1 files changed, 11015 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/8206-h/8206-h.htm b/8206-h/8206-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8e15a5a --- /dev/null +++ b/8206-h/8206-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11015 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Pilgrims of the Rhine, by Edward Bulwer Lytton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Pilgrims Of The Rhine, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Pilgrims Of The Rhine + +Author: Edward Bulwer-Lytton + +Release Date: March 17, 2009 [EBook #8206] +Last Updated: August 28, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger and Dagny + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE + </h1> + <h2> + TO WHICH IS PREFIXED <br /><br />THE IDEAL WORLD + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Edward Bulwer Lytton (Lord Lytton) + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION. </a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> + <b>THE IDEAL WORLD</b> </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> <b>THE + PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE</b> </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> + CHAPTER I. </a> IN WHICH THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO QUEEN + NYMPHALIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + LOVERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> FEELINGS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE MAID + OF MALINES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> ROTTERDAM.—THE + CHARACTER OF THE DUTCH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. + </a> GORCUM.—THE TOUR OF THE VIRTUES: A PHILOSOPHER’S + TALE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> COLOGNE.—THE + TRACES OF THE ROMAN YOKE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER + VIII. </a> THE SOUL IN PURGATORY; OR LOVE STRONGER THAN DEATH + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE + SCENERY OF THE RHINE ANALOGOUS TO THE GERMAN LITERARY <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE LEGEND OF ROLAND.—THE + ADVENTURES OF NYMPHALIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. + </a> WHEREIN THE READER IS MADE SPECTATOR WITH THE ENGLISH + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE + WOOING OF MASTER FOX <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. + </a> THE TOMB OF A FATHER OF MANY CHILDREN <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE FAIRY’S CAVE, AND + THE FAIRY’S WISH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> THE + BANKS OF THE RHINE.—FROM THE DRACHENFELS TO BROHL <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> GERTRUDE.—THE + EXCURSION TO HAMMERSTEIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER + XVII. </a> LETTER FROM TREVYLYAN <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> COBLENTZ.—EXCURSION + TO THE MOUNTAINS OF TAUNUS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER + XIX. </a> THE FALLEN STAR; OR THE HISTORY OF A FALSE RELIGION + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> GLENHAUSEN.—THE + POWER OF LOVE IN SANCTIFIED PLACES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> + CHAPTER XXI. </a> VIEW OF EHRENBREITSTEIN.—A NEW ALARM + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> THE + DOUBLE LIFE.—TREVYLYAN’S FATE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> + CHAPTER XXIII. </a> THE LIFE OF DREAMS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> THE BROTHERS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> THE IMMORTALITY OF + THE SOUL.—A COMMON INCIDENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> + CHAPTER XXVI. </a> IN WHICH THE READER WILL LEARN HOW THE + FAIRIES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> THURMBERG.—A + STORM UPON THE RHINE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. + </a> THE VOYAGE TO BINGEN.—THE SIMPLE INCIDENTS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> ELLFELD.—MAYENCE.—HEIDELBERG.—A + CONVERSATION BETWEEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. + </a> NO PART OF THE EARTH REALLY SOLITARY.—THE SONG + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> GERTRUDE + AND TREVYLYAN, WHEN THE FORMER IS AWAKENED <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> A SPOT TO BE BURIED + IN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER THE LAST. </a> THE + CONCLUSION OF THIS TALE <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> TO HENRY LYTTON BULWER. + </p> + <p> + ALLOW me, my dear Brother, to dedicate this Work to you. The greater part + of it (namely, the tales which vary and relieve the voyages of Gertrude + and Trevylyan) was written in the pleasant excursion we made together some + years ago. Among the associations—some sad and some pleasing—connected + with the general design, none are so agreeable to me as those that remind + me of the friendship subsisting between us, and which, unlike that of near + relations in general, has grown stronger and more intimate as our + footsteps have receded farther from the fields where we played together in + our childhood. I dedicate this Work to you with the more pleasure, not + only when I remember that it has always been a favourite with yourself, + but when I think that it is one of my writings most liked in foreign + countries; and I may possibly, therefore, have found a record destined to + endure the affectionate esteem which this Dedication is intended to + convey. + </p> + <p> + Yours, etc. + </p> + <p> + E. L. B. LONDON, April 23, 1840. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION. + </h2> + <p> + COULD I prescribe to the critic and to the public, I would wish that this + work might be tried by the rules rather of poetry than prose, for + according to those rules have been both its conception and its execution; + and I feel that something of sympathy with the author’s design is + requisite to win indulgence for the superstitions he has incorporated with + his tale, for the floridity of his style, and the redundance of his + descriptions. Perhaps, indeed, it would be impossible, in attempting to + paint the scenery and embody some of the Legends of the Rhine, not to give + (it may be, too loosely) the reins to the imagination, or to escape the + influence of that wild German spirit which I have sought to transfer to a + colder tongue. + </p> + <p> + I have made the experiment of selecting for the main interest of my work + the simplest materials, and weaving upon them the ornaments given chiefly + to subjects of a more fanciful nature. I know not how far I have + succeeded, but various reasons have conspired to make this the work, above + all others that I have written, which has given me the most delight + (though not unmixed with melancholy) in producing, and in which my mind + for the time has been the most completely absorbed. But the ardour of + composition is often disproportioned to the merit of the work; and the + public sometimes, nor unjustly, avenges itself for that forgetfulness of + its existence which makes the chief charm of an author’s solitude,—and + the happiest, if not the wisest, inspiration of his dreams. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE. + </h2> + <p> + WITH the younger class of my readers this work has had the good fortune to + find especial favour; perhaps because it is in itself a collection of the + thoughts and sentiments that constitute the Romance of youth. It has + little to do with the positive truths of our actual life, and does not + pretend to deal with the larger passions and more stirring interests of + our kind. It is but an episode out of the graver epic of human destinies. + It requires no explanation of its purpose, and no analysis of its story; + the one is evident, the other simple,—the first seeks but to + illustrate visible nature through the poetry of the affections; the other + is but the narrative of the most real of mortal sorrows, which the Author + attempts to take out of the region of pain by various accessories from the + Ideal. The connecting tale itself is but the string that binds into a + garland the wild-flowers cast upon a grave. + </p> + <p> + The descriptions of the Rhine have been considered by Germans sufficiently + faithful to render this tribute to their land and their legends one of the + popular guide-books along the course it illustrates,—especially to + such tourists as wish not only to take in with the eye the inventory of + the river, but to seize the peculiar spirit which invests the wave and the + bank with a beauty that can only be made visible by reflection. He little + comprehends the true charm of the Rhine who gazes on the vines on the + hill-tops without a thought of the imaginary world with which their + recesses have been peopled by the graceful credulity of old; who surveys + the steep ruins that overshadow the water, untouched by one lesson from + the pensive morality of Time. Everywhere around us is the evidence of + perished opinions and departed races; everywhere around us, also, the + rejoicing fertility of unconquerable Nature, and the calm progress of Man + himself through the infinite cycles of decay. He who would judge + adequately of a landscape must regard it not only with the painter’s eye, + but with the poet’s. The feelings which the sight of any scene in Nature + conveys to the mind—more especially of any scene on which history or + fiction has left its trace—must depend upon our sympathy with those + associations which make up what may be called the spiritual character of + the spot. If indifferent to those associations, we should see only + hedgerows and ploughed land in the battle-field of Bannockburn; and the + traveller would but look on a dreary waste, whether he stood amidst the + piles of the Druid on Salisbury plain, or trod his bewildered way over the + broad expanse on which the Chaldaean first learned to number the stars. + </p> + <p> + To the former editions of this tale was prefixed a poem on “The Ideal,” + which had all the worst faults of the author’s earliest compositions in + verse. The present poem (with the exception of a very few lines) has been + entirely rewritten, and has at least the comparative merit of being less + vague in the thought, and less unpolished in the diction, than that which + it replaces. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE IDEAL WORLD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. + + THE IDEAL WORLD,—ITS REALM IS EVERYWHERE AROUND US; ITS INHABITANTS ARE + THE IMMORTAL PERSONIFICATIONS OF ALL BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS; TO THAT WORLD WE + ATTAIN BY THE REPOSE OF THE SENSES. + + AROUND “this visible diurnal sphere” + There floats a World that girds us like the space; + On wandering clouds and gliding beams career + Its ever-moving murmurous Populace. + There, all the lovelier thoughts conceived below + Ascending live, and in celestial shapes. + To that bright World, O Mortal, wouldst thou go? + Bind but thy senses, and thy soul escapes: + To care, to sin, to passion close thine eyes; + Sleep in the flesh, and see the Dreamland rise! + Hark to the gush of golden waterfalls, + Or knightly tromps at Archimagian Walls! + In the green hush of Dorian Valleys mark + The River Maid her amber tresses knitting; + When glow-worms twinkle under coverts dark, + And silver clouds o’er summer stars are flitting, + With jocund elves invade “the Moone’s sphere, + Or hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear;” * + Or, list! what time the roseate urns of dawn + Scatter fresh dews, and the first skylark weaves + Joy into song, the blithe Arcadian Faun + Piping to wood-nymphs under Bromian leaves, + While slowly gleaming through the purple glade + Come Evian’s panther car, and the pale Naxian Maid. + + * “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” + + Such, O Ideal World, thy habitants! + All the fair children of creative creeds, + All the lost tribes of Fantasy are thine,— + From antique Saturn in Dodonian haunts, + Or Pan’s first music waked from shepherd reeds, + To the last sprite when Heaven’s pale lamps decline, + Heard wailing soft along the solemn Rhine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + II. + + OUR DREAMS BELONG TO THE IDEAL.—THE DIVINER LOVE FOR WHICH YOUTH SIGHS + NOT ATTAINABLE IN LIFE, BUT THE PURSUIT OF THAT LOVE BEYOND THE WORLD OF + THE SENSES PURIFIES THE SOUL AND AWAKES THE GENIUS.—PETRARCH.—DANTE. + + Thine are the Dreams that pass the Ivory Gates, + With prophet shadows haunting poet eyes! + Thine the belov’d illusions youth creates + From the dim haze of its own happy skies. + In vain we pine; we yearn on earth to win + The being of the heart, our boyhood’s dream. + The Psyche and the Eros ne’er have been, + Save in Olympus, wedded! As a stream + Glasses a star, so life the ideal love; + Restless the stream below, serene the orb above! + Ever the soul the senses shall deceive; + Here custom chill, there kinder fate bereave: + For mortal lips unmeet eternal vows! + And Eden’s flowers for Adam’s mournful brows! + We seek to make the moment’s angel guest + The household dweller at a human hearth; + We chase the bird of Paradise, whose nest + Was never found amid the bowers of earth.* + + * According to a belief in the East, which is associated with one + of the loveliest and most familiar of Oriental superstitions, + the bird of Paradise is never seen to rest upon the earth, and + its nest is never to be found. + + Yet loftier joys the vain pursuit may bring, + Than sate the senses with the boons of time; + The bird of Heaven hath still an upward wing, + The steps it lures are still the steps that climb; + And in the ascent although the soil be bare, + More clear the daylight and more pure the air. + Let Petrarch’s heart the human mistress lose, + He mourns the Laura but to win the Muse. + Could all the charms which Georgian maids combine + Delight the soul of the dark Florentine, + Like one chaste dream of childlike Beatrice + Awaiting Hell’s dark pilgrim in the skies, + Snatched from below to be the guide above, + And clothe Religion in the form of Love?* + + * It is supposed by many of the commentators on Dante, that in + the form of his lost Beatrice, who guides him in his Vision + of Heaven, he allegorizes Religious Faith. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + III. + + GENIUS, LIFTING ITS LIFE TO THE IDEAL, BECOMES ITSELF A PURE IDEA: IT + MUST COMPREHEND ALL EXISTENCE, ALL HUMAN SINS AND SUFFERINGS; BUT IN + COMPREHENDING, IT TRANSMUTES THEM.—THE POET IN HIS TWO-FOLD BEING,—THE + ACTUAL AND THE IDEAL.—THE INFLUENCE OF GENIUS OVER THE STERNEST + REALITIES OF EARTH; OVER OUR PASSIONS; WARS AND SUPERSTITIONS.—ITS + IDENTITY IS WITH HUMAN PROGRESS.—ITS AGENCY, EVEN WHERE UNACKNOWLEDGED, + IS UNIVERSAL. + + Oh, thou true Iris! sporting on thy bow + Of tears and smiles! Jove’s herald, Poetry, + Thou reflex image of all joy and woe, + <i>Both</i> fused in light by thy dear fantasy! + Lo! from the clay how Genius lifts its life, + And grows one pure Idea, one calm soul! + True, its own clearness must reflect our strife; + True, its completeness must comprise our whole; + But as the sun transmutes the sullen hues + Of marsh-grown vapours into vermeil dyes, + And melts them later into twilight dews, + Shedding on flowers the baptism of the skies; + So glows the Ideal in the air we breathe, + So from the fumes of sorrow and of sin, + Doth its warm light in rosy colours wreathe + Its playful cloudland, storing balms within. + + Survey the Poet in his mortal mould, + Man, amongst men, descended from his throne! + The moth that chased the star now frets the fold, + Our cares, our faults, our follies are his own. + Passions as idle, and desires as vain, + Vex the wild heart, and dupe the erring brain. + From Freedom’s field the recreant Horace flies + To kiss the hand by which his country dies; + From Mary’s grave the mighty Peasant turns, + And hoarse with orgies rings the laugh of Burns. + While Rousseau’s lips a lackey’s vices own,— + Lips that could draw the thunder on a throne! + But when from Life the Actual GENIUS springs, + When, self-transformed by its own magic rod, + It snaps the fetters and expands the wings, + And drops the fleshly garb that veiled the god, + How the mists vanish as the form ascends! + How in its aureole every sunbeam blends! + By the Arch-Brightener of Creation seen, + How dim the crowns on perishable brows! + The snows of Atlas melt beneath the sheen, + Through Thebaid caves the rushing splendour flows. + Cimmerian glooms with Asian beams are bright, + And Earth reposes in a belt of light. + Now stern as Vengeance shines the awful form, + Armed with the bolt and glowing through the storm; + Sets the great deeps of human passion free, + And whelms the bulwarks that would breast the sea. + Roused by its voice the ghastly Wars arise, + Mars reddens earth, the Valkyrs pale the skies; + Dim Superstition from her hell escapes, + With all her shadowy brood of monster shapes; + Here life itself the scowl of Typhon* takes; + There Conscience shudders at Alecto’s snakes; + From Gothic graves at midnight yawning wide, + In gory cerements gibbering spectres glide; + And where o’er blasted heaths the lightnings flame, + Black secret hags “do deeds without a name!” + Yet through its direst agencies of awe, + Light marks its presence and pervades its law, + And, like Orion when the storms are loud, + It links creation while it gilds a cloud. + By ruthless Thor, free Thought, frank Honour stand, + Fame’s grand desire, and zeal for Fatherland. + The grim Religion of Barbarian Fear + With some Hereafter still connects the Here, + Lifts the gross sense to some spiritual source, + And thrones some Jove above the Titan Force, + Till, love completing what in awe began, + From the rude savage dawns the thoughtful man. + + * The gloomy Typhon of Egypt assumes many of the mystic attributes + of the Principle of Life which, in the Grecian Apotheosis of the + Indian Bacchus, is represented in so genial a character of + exuberant joy and everlasting youth. + + Then, oh, behold the Glorious comforter! + Still bright’ning worlds but gladd’ning now the hearth, + Or like the lustre of our nearest star, + Fused in the common atmosphere of earth. + It sports like hope upon the captive’s chain; + Descends in dreams upon the couch of pain; + To wonder’s realm allures the earnest child; + To the chaste love refines the instinct wild; + And as in waters the reflected beam, + Still where we turn, glides with us up the stream, + And while in truth the whole expanse is bright, + Yields to each eye its own fond path of light,— + So over life the rays of Genius fall, + Give each his track because illuming all. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IV. + + FORGIVENESS TO THE ERRORS OF OUR BENEFACTORS. + + Hence is that secret pardon we bestow + In the true instinct of the grateful heart, + Upon the Sons of Song. The good they do + In the clear world of their Uranian art + Endures forever; while the evil done + In the poor drama of their mortal scene, + Is but a passing cloud before the sun; + Space hath no record where the mist hath been. + Boots it to us if Shakspeare erred like man? + Why idly question that most mystic life? + Eno’ the giver in his gifts to scan; + To bless the sheaves with which thy fields are rife, + Nor, blundering, guess through what obstructive clay + The glorious corn-seed struggled up to day. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + V. + + THE IDEAL IS NOT CONFINED TO POETS.—ALGERNON SIDNEY RECOGNIZES HIS IDEAL + IN LIBERTY, AND BELIEVES IN ITS TRIUMPH WHERE THE MERE PRACTICAL MAN + COULD BEHOLD BUT ITS RUINS; YET LIBERTY IN THIS WORLD MUST EVER BE AN + IDEAL, AND THE LAND THAT IT PROMISES CAN BE FOUND BUT IN DEATH. + + But not to you alone, O Sons Of Song, + The wings that float the loftier airs along. + Whoever lifts us from the dust we are, + Beyond the sensual to spiritual goals; + Who from the MOMENT and the SELF afar + By deathless deeds allures reluctant souls, + Gives the warm life to what the Limner draws,— + Plato but thought what godlike Cato was.* + Recall the Wars of England’s giant-born, + Is Elyot’s voice, is Hampden’s death in vain? + Have all the meteors of the vernal morn + But wasted light upon a frozen main? + Where is that child of Carnage, Freedom, flown? + The Sybarite lolls upon the martyr’s throne. + Lewd, ribald jests succeed to solemn zeal; + And things of silk to Cromwell’s men of steel. + Cold are the hosts the tromps of Ireton thrilled, + And hushed the senates Vane’s large presence filled. + In what strong heart doth the old manhood dwell? + Where art thou, Freedom? Look! in Sidney’s cell! + There still as stately stands the living Truth, + Smiling on age as it had smiled on youth. + Her forts dismantled, and her shrines o’erthrown, + The headsman’s block her last dread altar-stone, + No sanction left to Reason’s vulgar hope, + Far from the wrecks expands her prophet’s scope. + Millennial morns the tombs of Kedron gild, + The hands of saints the glorious walls rebuild,— + Till each foundation garnished with its gem, + High o’er Gehenna flames Jerusalem! + O thou blood-stained Ideal of the free, + Whose breath is heard in clarions,—Liberty! + Sublimer for thy grand illusions past, + Thou spring’st to Heaven,—Religion at the last. + Alike below, or commonwealths or thrones, + Where’er men gather some crushed victim groans; + Only in death thy real form we see, + All life is bondage,—souls alone are free. + Thus through the waste the wandering Hebrews went, + Fire on the march, but cloud upon the tent. + At last on Pisgah see the prophet stand, + Before his vision spreads the PROMISED LAND; + But where revealed the Canaan to his eye?— + Upon the mountain he ascends to die. + + * What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was.—POPE. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VI. + + YET ALL HAVE TWO ESCAPES INTO THE IDEAL WORLD; NAMELY, MEMORY AND + HOPE.—EXAMPLE OF HOPE IN YOUTH, HOWEVER EXCLUDED FROM ACTION AND + DESIRE.—NAPOLEON’S SON. + + Yet whatsoever be our bondage here, + All have two portals to the phantom sphere. + What hath not glided through those gates that ope + Beyond the Hour, to MEMORY or to HOPE! + Give Youth the Garden,—still it soars above, + Seeks some far glory, some diviner love. + Place Age amidst the Golgotha,—its eyes + Still quit the graves, to rest upon the skies; + And while the dust, unheeded, moulders there, + Track some lost angel through cerulean air. + + Lo! where the Austrian binds, with formal chain, + The crownless son of earth’s last Charlemagne,— + Him, at whose birth laughed all the violet vales + (While yet unfallen stood thy sovereign star, + O Lucifer of nations). Hark, the gales + Swell with the shout from all the hosts, whose war + Rended the Alps, and crimsoned Memphian Nile,— + “Way for the coming of the Conqueror’s Son: + Woe to the Merchant-Carthage of the Isle! + Woe to the Scythian ice-world of the Don! + O Thunder Lord, thy Lemnian bolts prepare, + The Eagle’s eyry hath its eagle heir!” + Hark, at that shout from north to south, gray Power + Quails on its weak, hereditary thrones; + And widowed mothers prophesy the hour + Of future carnage to their cradled sons. + What! shall our race to blood be thus consigned, + And Ate claim an heirloom in mankind? + Are these red lots unshaken in the urn? + Years pass; approach, pale Questioner, and learn + Chained to his rock, with brows that vainly frown, + The fallen Titan sinks in darkness down! + And sadly gazing through his gilded grate, + Behold the child whose birth was as a fate! + Far from the land in which his life began; + Walled from the healthful air of hardy man; + Reared by cold hearts, and watched by jealous eyes, + His guardians jailers, and his comrades spies. + Each trite convention courtly fears inspire + To stint experience and to dwarf desire; + Narrows the action to a puppet stage, + And trains the eaglet to the starling’s cage. + On the dejected brow and smileless cheek, + What weary thought the languid lines bespeak; + Till drop by drop, from jaded day to day, + The sickly life-streams ooze themselves away. + Yet oft in HOPE a boundless realm was thine, + That vaguest Infinite,—the Dream of Fame; + Son of the sword that first made kings divine, + Heir to man’s grandest royalty,—a Name! + Then didst thou burst upon the startled world, + And keep the glorious promise of thy birth; + Then were the wings that bear the bolt unfurled, + A monarch’s voice cried, “Place upon the earth!” + A new Philippi gained a second Rome, + And the Son’s sword avenged the greater Caesar’s doom. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VII. + + EXAMPLE OF MEMORY AS LEADING TO THE IDEAL,—AMIDST LIFE HOWEVER HUMBLE, + AND IN A MIND HOWEVER IGNORANT.—THE VILLAGE WIDOW. + + But turn the eye to life’s sequestered vale + And lowly roofs remote in hamlets green. + Oft in my boyhood where the moss-grown pale + Fenced quiet graves, a female form was seen; + Each eve she sought the melancholy ground, + And lingering paused, and wistful looked around. + If yet some footstep rustled through the grass, + Timorous she shrunk, and watched the shadow pass; + Then, when the spot lay lone amidst the gloom, + Crept to one grave too humble for a tomb, + There silent bowed her face above the dead, + For, if in prayer, the prayer was inly said; + Still as the moonbeam, paused her quiet shade, + Still as the moonbeam, through the yews to fade. + Whose dust thus hallowed by so fond a care? + What the grave saith not, let the heart declare. + On yonder green two orphan children played; + By yonder rill two plighted lovers strayed; + In yonder shrine two lives were blent in one, + And joy-bells chimed beneath a summer sun. + Poor was their lot, their bread in labour found; + No parent blessed them, and no kindred owned; + They smiled to hear the wise their choice condemn; + They loved—they loved—and love was wealth to them! + Hark—one short week—again the holy bell! + Still shone the sun; but dirge like boomed the knell,— + The icy hand had severed breast from breast; + Left life to toil, and summoned Death to rest. + Full fifty years since then have passed away, + Her cheek is furrowed, and her hair is gray. + Yet, when she speaks of <i>him</i> (the times are rare), + Hear in her voice how youth still trembles there. + The very name of that young life that died + Still heaves the bosom, and recalls the bride. + Lone o’er the widow’s hearth those years have fled, + The daily toil still wins the daily bread; + No books deck sorrow with fantastic dyes; + Her fond romance her woman heart supplies; + And, haply in the few still moments given, + (Day’s taskwork done), to memory, death, and heaven, + To that unuttered poem may belong + Thoughts of such pathos as had beggared song. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VIII. + + HENCE IN HOPE, MEMORY, AND PRAYER, ALL OF US ARE POETS. + + Yes, while thou hopest, music fills the air, + While thou rememberest, life reclothes the clod; + While thou canst feel the electric chain of prayer, + Breathe but a thought, and be a soul with God! + Let not these forms of matter bound thine eye. + He who the vanishing point of Human things + Lifts from the landscape, lost amidst the sky, + Has found the Ideal which the poet sings, + Has pierced the pall around the senses thrown, + And is himself a poet, though unknown. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IX. + + APPLICATION OF THE POEM TO THE TALE TO WHICH IT IS PREFIXED.—THE + RHINE,—ITS IDEAL CHARACTER IN ITS HISTORICAL AND LEGENDARY ASSOCIATIONS. + + Eno’!—my song is closing, and to thee, + Land of the North, I dedicate its lay; + As I have done the simple tale to be + The drama of this prelude! + Faraway + Rolls the swift Rhine beneath the starry ray; + But to my ear its haunted waters sigh; + Its moonlight mountains glimmer on my eye; + On wave, on marge, as on a wizard’s glass, + Imperial ghosts in dim procession pass; + Lords of the wild, the first great Father-men, + Their fane the hill-top, and their home the glen; + Frowning they fade; a bridge of steel appears + With frank-eyed Caesar smiling through the spears; + The march moves onwards, and the mirror brings + The Gothic crowns of Carlovingian kings + Vanished alike! The Hermit rears his Cross, + And barbs neigh shrill, and plumes in tumult toss, + While (knighthood’s sole sweet conquest from the Moor) + Sings to Arabian lutes the Tourbadour. + Not yet, not yet; still glide some lingering shades, + Still breathe some murmurs as the starlight fades, + Still from her rock I hear the Siren call, + And see the tender ghost in Roland’s mouldering hall! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + X. + + APPLICATION OF THE POEM CONTINUED.—THE IDEAL LENDS ITS AID TO THE MOST + FAMILIAR AND THE MOST ACTUAL SORROW OF LIFE.—FICTION COMPARED TO + SLEEP,—IT STRENGTHENS WHILE IT SOOTHES. + + Trite were the tale I tell of love and doom, + (Whose life hath loved not, whose not mourned a tomb?) + But fiction draws a poetry from grief, + As art its healing from the withered leaf. + Play thou, sweet Fancy, round the sombre truth, + Crown the sad Genius ere it lower the torch! + When death the altar and the victim youth, + Flutes fill the air, and garlands deck the porch. + As down the river drifts the Pilgrim sail, + Clothe the rude hill-tops, lull the Northern gale; + With childlike lore the fatal course beguile, + And brighten death with Love’s untiring smile. + Along the banks let fairy forms be seen + “By fountain clear, or spangled starlike sheen.” * + Let sound and shape to which the sense is dull + Haunt the soul opening on the Beautiful. + And when at length, the symbol voyage done, + Surviving Grief shrinks lonely from the sun, + By tender types show Grief what memories bloom + From lost delight, what fairies guard the tomb. + Scorn not the dream, O world-worn; pause a while, + New strength shall nerve thee as the dreams beguile, + Stung by the rest, less far shall seem the goal! + As sleep to life, so fiction to the soul. + + * “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. IN WHICH THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO QUEEN NYMPHALIN. + </h2> + <p> + IN one of those green woods which belong so peculiarly to our island (for + the Continent has its forests, but England its woods) there lived, a short + time ago, a charming little fairy called Nymphalin. I believe she is + descended from a younger branch of the house of Mab; but perhaps that may + only be a genealogical fable, for your fairies are very susceptible to the + pride of ancestry, and it is impossible to deny that they fall somewhat + reluctantly into the liberal opinions so much in vogue at the present day. + </p> + <p> + However that may be, it is quite certain that all the courtiers in + Nymphalin’s domain (for she was a queen fairy) made a point of asserting + her right to this illustrious descent; and accordingly she quartered the + Mab arms with her own,—three acorns vert, with a grasshopper + rampant. It was as merry a little court as could possibly be conceived, + and on a fine midsummer night it would have been worth while attending the + queen’s balls; that is to say, if you could have got a ticket, a favour + not obtained without great interest. + </p> + <p> + But, unhappily, until both men and fairies adopt Mr. Owen’s proposition, + and live in parallelograms, they will always be the victims of <i>ennui</i>. + And Nymphalin, who had been disappointed in love, and was still unmarried, + had for the last five or six months been exceedingly tired even of giving + balls. She yawned very frequently, and consequently yawning became a + fashion. + </p> + <p> + “But why don’t we have some new dances, my Pipalee?” said Nymphalin to her + favourite maid of honour; “these waltzes are very old-fashioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Very old-fashioned,” said Pipalee. + </p> + <p> + The queen gaped, and Pipalee did the same. + </p> + <p> + It was a gala night; the court was held in a lone and beautiful hollow, + with the wild brake closing round it on every side, so that no human step + could easily gain the spot. Wherever the shadows fell upon the brake a + glow-worm made a point of exhibiting itself, and the bright August moon + sailed slowly above, pleased to look down upon so charming a scene of + merriment; for they wrong the moon who assert that she has an objection to + mirth,—with the mirth of fairies she has all possible sympathy. Here + and there in the thicket the scarce honeysuckles—in August + honeysuckles are somewhat out of season—hung their rich festoons, + and at that moment they were crowded with the elderly fairies, who had + given up dancing and taken to scandal. Besides the honeysuckle you might + see the hawkweed and the white convolvulus, varying the soft verdure of + the thicket; and mushrooms in abundance had sprung up in the circle, + glittering in the silver moonlight, and acceptable beyond measure to the + dancers: every one knows how agreeable a thing tents are in a <i>fete + champetre</i>! I was mistaken in saying that the brake closed the circle + entirely round; for there was one gap, scarcely apparent to mortals, + through which a fairy at least might catch a view of a brook that was + close at hand, rippling in the stars, and checkered at intervals by the + rich weeds floating on the surface, interspersed with the delicate + arrowhead and the silver water-lily. Then the trees themselves, in their + prodigal variety of hues,—the blue, the purple, the yellowing tint, + the tender and silvery verdure, and the deep mass of shade frowning into + black; the willow, the elm, the ash, the fir, and the lime, “and, best of + all, Old England’s haunted oak;” these hues were broken again into a + thousand minor and subtler shades as the twinkling stars pierced the + foliage, or the moon slept with a richer light upon some favoured glade. + </p> + <p> + It was a gala night; the elderly fairies, as I said before, were chatting + among the honeysuckles; the young were flirting, and dancing, and making + love; the middle-aged talked politics under the mushrooms; and the queen + herself and half-a-dozen of her favourites were yawning their pleasure + from a little mound covered with the thickest moss. + </p> + <p> + “It has been very dull, madam, ever since Prince Fayzenheim left us,” said + the fairy Nip. + </p> + <p> + The queen sighed. + </p> + <p> + “How handsome the prince is!” said Pipalee. + </p> + <p> + The queen blushed. + </p> + <p> + “He wore the prettiest dress in the world; and what a mustache!” cried + Pipalee, fanning herself with her left wing. + </p> + <p> + “He was a coxcomb,” said the lord treasurer, sourly. The lord treasurer + was the honestest and most disagreeable fairy at court; he was an + admirable husband, brother, son, cousin, uncle, and godfather,—it + was these virtues that had made him a lord treasurer. Unfortunately they + had not made him a sensible fairy. He was like Charles the Second in one + respect, for he never did a wise thing; but he was not like him in + another, for he very often said a foolish one. + </p> + <p> + The queen frowned. + </p> + <p> + “A young prince is not the worse for that,” retorted Pipalee. “Heigho! + does your Majesty think his Highness likely to return?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tease me,” said Nymphalin, pettishly. + </p> + <p> + The lord treasurer, by way of giving the conversation an agreeable turn, + reminded her Majesty that there was a prodigious accumulation of business + to see to, especially that difficult affair about the emmet-wasp loan. Her + Majesty rose; and leaning on Pipalee’s arm, walked down to the supper + tent. + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said the fairy Trip to the fairy Nip, “what is all this talk about + Prince Fayzenheim? Excuse my ignorance; I am only just out, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” answered Nip, a young courtier, not a marrying fairy, but very + seductive, “the story runs thus: Last summer a foreigner visited us, + calling himself Prince Fayzenheim: one of your German fairies, I fancy; no + great things, but an excellent waltzer. He wore long spurs, made out of + the stings of the horse-flies in the Black Forest; his cap sat on one + side, and his mustachios curled like the lip of the dragon-flower. He was + on his travels, and amused himself by making love to the queen. You can’t + fancy, dear Trip, how fond she was of hearing him tell stories about the + strange creatures of Germany,—about wild huntsmen, water-sprites, + and a pack of such stuff,” added Nip, contemptuously, for Nip was a + freethinker. + </p> + <p> + “In short?” said Trip. + </p> + <p> + “In short, she loved,” cried Nip, with a theatrical air. + </p> + <p> + “And the prince?” + </p> + <p> + “Packed up his clothes, and sent on his travelling-carriage, in order that + he might go at his ease on the top of a stage-pigeon; in short—as + you say—in short, he deserted the queen, and ever since she has set + the fashion of yawning.” + </p> + <p> + “It was very naughty in him,” said the gentle Trip. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear creature,” cried Nip, “if it had been you to whom he had paid + his addresses!” + </p> + <p> + Trip simpered, and the old fairies from their seats in the honeysuckles + observed she was “sadly conducted;” but the Trips had never been too + respectable. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the queen, leaning on Pipalee, said, after a short pause, “Do + you know I have formed a plan!” + </p> + <p> + “How delightful!” cried Pipalee. “Another gala!” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, surely even you must be tired with such levities: the spirit of the + age is no longer frivolous; and I dare say as the march of gravity + proceeds, we shall get rid of galas altogether.” The queen said this with + an air of inconceivable wisdom, for the “Society for the Diffusion of + General Stupefaction” had been recently established among the fairies, and + its tracts had driven all the light reading out of the market. “The Penny + Proser” had contributed greatly to the increase of knowledge and yawning, + so visibly progressive among the courtiers. + </p> + <p> + “No,” continued Nymphalin; “I have thought of something better than galas. + Let us travel!” + </p> + <p> + Pipalee clasped her hands in ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall we travel?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go up the Rhine,” said the queen, turning away her head. “We shall + be amazingly welcomed; there are fairies without number all the way by its + banks, and various distant connections of ours whose nature and properties + will afford interest and instruction to a philosophical mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Number Nip, for instance,” cried the gay Pipalee. + </p> + <p> + “The Red Man!” said the graver Nymphalin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my queen, what an excellent scheme!” and Pipalee was so lively during + the rest of the night that the old fairies in the honeysuckle insinuated + that the lady of honour had drunk a buttercup too much of the Maydew. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE LOVERS. + </h2> + <p> + I WISH only for such readers as give themselves heart and soul up to me,—if + they begin to cavil I have done with them; their fancy should put itself + entirely under my management; and, after all, ought they not to be too + glad to get out of this hackneyed and melancholy world, to be run away + with by an author who promises them something new? + </p> + <p> + From the heights of Bruges, a Mortal and his betrothed gazed upon the + scene below. They saw the sun set slowly amongst purple masses of cloud, + and the lover turned to his mistress and sighed deeply; for her cheek was + delicate in its blended roses, beyond the beauty that belongs to the hues + of health; and when he saw the sun sinking from the world, the thought + came upon him that <i>she</i> was his sun, and the glory that she shed + over his life might soon pass away into the bosom of the “ever-during + Dark.” But against the clouds rose one of the many spires that + characterize the town of Bruges; and on that spire, tapering into heaven, + rested the eyes of Gertrude Vane. The different objects that caught the + gaze of each was emblematic both of the different channel of their + thoughts and the different elements of their nature: he thought of the + sorrow, she of the consolation; his heart prophesied of the passing away + from earth, hers of the ascension into heaven. The lower part of the + landscape was wrapped in shade; but just where the bank curved round in a + mimic bay, the waters caught the sun’s parting smile, and rippled against + the herbage that clothed the shore, with a scarcely noticeable wave. There + are two of the numerous mills which are so picturesque a feature of that + country, standing at a distance from each other on the rising banks, their + sails perfectly still in the cool silence of the evening, and adding to + the rustic tranquillity which breathed around. For to me there is + something in the still sails of one of those inventions of man’s industry + peculiarly eloquent of repose: the rest seems typical of the repose of our + own passions, short and uncertain, contrary to their natural ordination; + and doubly impressive from the feeling which admonishes us how precarious + is the stillness, how utterly dependent on every wind rising at any moment + and from any quarter of the heavens! They saw before them no living forms, + save of one or two peasants yet lingering by the water-side. + </p> + <p> + Trevylyan drew closer to his Gertrude; for his love was inexpressibly + tender, and his vigilant anxiety for her made his stern frame feel the + first coolness of the evening even before she felt it herself. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest, let me draw your mantle closer round you.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude smiled her thanks. + </p> + <p> + “I feel better than I have done for weeks,” said she; “and when once we + get into the Rhine, you will see me grow so strong as to shock all your + interest for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, would to Heaven my interest for you may be put to such an ordeal!” + said Trevylyan; and they turned slowly to the inn, where Gertrude’s father + already awaited them. + </p> + <p> + Trevylyan was of a wild, a resolute, and an active nature. Thrown on the + world at the age of sixteen, he had passed his youth in alternate + pleasure, travel, and solitary study. At the age in which manhood is least + susceptible to caprice, and most perhaps to passion, he fell in love with + the loveliest person that ever dawned upon a poet’s vision. I say this + without exaggeration, for Gertrude Vane’s was indeed the beauty, but the + perishable beauty, of a dream. It happened most singularly to Trevylyan + (but he was a singular man), that being naturally one whose affections it + was very difficult to excite, he should have fallen in love at first sight + with a person whose disease, already declared, would have deterred any + other heart from risking its treasures on a bark so utterly unfitted for + the voyage of life. Consumption, but consumption in its most beautiful + shape, had set its seal upon Gertrude Vane, when Trevylyan first saw her, + and at once loved. He knew the danger of the disease; he did not, except + at intervals, deceive himself; he wrestled against the new passion: but, + stern as his nature was, he could not conquer it. He loved, he confessed + his love, and Gertrude returned it. + </p> + <p> + In a love like this, there is something ineffably beautiful,—it is + essentially the poetry of passion. Desire grows hallowed by fear, and, + scarce permitted to indulge its vent in the common channel of the senses, + breaks forth into those vague yearnings, those lofty aspirations, which + pine for the Bright, the Far, the Unattained. It is “the desire of the + moth for the star;” it is the love of the soul! + </p> + <p> + Gertrude was advised by the faculty to try a southern climate; but + Gertrude was the daughter of a German mother, and her young fancy had been + nursed in all the wild legends and the alluring visions that belong to the + children of the Rhine. Her imagination, more romantic than classic, + yearned for the vine-clad hills and haunted forests which are so fertile + in their spells to those who have once drunk, even sparingly, of the + Literature of the North. Her desire strongly expressed, her declared + conviction that if any change of scene could yet arrest the progress of + her malady it would be the shores of the river she had so longed to visit, + prevailed with her physicians and her father, and they consented to that + pilgrimage along the Rhine on which Gertrude, her father, and her lover + were now bound. + </p> + <p> + It was by the green curve of the banks which the lovers saw from the + heights of Bruges that our fairy travellers met. They were reclining on + the water-side, playing at dominos with eye-bright and the black specks of + the trefoil; namely, Pipalee, Nip, Trip, and the lord treasurer (for that + was all the party selected by the queen for her travelling <i>cortege</i>), + and waiting for her Majesty, who, being a curious little elf, had gone + round the town to reconnoitre. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” said the lord treasurer; “what a mad freak is this! Crossing + that immense pond of water! And was there ever such bad grass as this? One + may see that the fairies thrive ill here.” + </p> + <p> + “You are always discontented, my lord,” said Pipalee; “but then you are + somewhat too old to travel,—at least, unless you go in your nutshell + and four.” + </p> + <p> + The lord treasurer did not like this remark, so he muttered a peevish + pshaw, and took a pinch of honeysuckle dust to console himself for being + forced to put up with so much frivolity. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, ere the moon was yet at her middest height, Nymphalin + joined her subjects. + </p> + <p> + “I have just returned,” said she, with a melancholy expression on her + countenance, “from a scene that has almost renewed in me that sympathy + with human beings which of late years our race has well-nigh relinquished. + </p> + <p> + “I hurried through the town without noticing much food for adventure. I + paused for a moment on a fat citizen’s pillow, and bade him dream of love. + He woke in a fright, and ran down to see that his cheeses were safe. I + swept with a light wing over a politician’s eyes, and straightway he + dreamed of theatres and music. I caught an undertaker in his first nap, + and I have left him whirled into a waltz. For what would be sleep if it + did not contrast life? Then I came to a solitary chamber, in which a girl, + in her tenderest youth, knelt by the bedside in prayer, and I saw that the + death-spirit had passed over her, and the blight was on the leaves of the + rose. The room was still and hushed, the angel of Purity kept watch there. + Her heart was full of love, and yet of holy thoughts, and I bade her dream + of the long life denied to her,—of a happy home, of the kisses of + her young lover, of eternal faith, and unwaning tenderness. Let her at + least enjoy in dreams what Fate has refused to Truth! And, passing from + the room, I found her lover stretched in his cloak beside the door; for he + reads with a feverish and desperate prophecy the doom that waits her; and + so loves he the very air she breathes, the very ground she treads, that + when she has left his sight he creeps, silently and unknown to her, to the + nearest spot hallowed by her presence, anxious that while yet she is on + earth not an hour, not a moment, should be wasted upon other thoughts than + those that belong to her; and feeling a security, a fearful joy, in + lessening the distance that <i>now</i> only momentarily divides them. And + that love seemed to me not as the love of the common world, and I stayed + my wings and looked upon it as a thing that centuries might pass and bring + no parallel to, in its beauty and its melancholy truth. But I kept away + the sleep from the lover’s eyes, for well I knew that sleep was a tyrant, + that shortened the brief time of waking tenderness for the living, yet + spared him; and one sad, anxious thought of her was sweeter, in spite of + its sorrow, than the brightest of fairy dreams. So I left him awake, and + watching there through the long night, and felt that the children of earth + have still something that unites them to the spirits of a finer race, so + long as they retain amongst them the presence of real love!” + </p> + <p> + And oh! is there not a truth also in our fictions of the Unseen World? Are + there not yet bright lingerers by the forest and the stream? Do the moon + and the soft stars look out on no delicate and winged forms bathing in + their light? Are the fairies and the invisible hosts but the children of + our dreams, and not their inspiration? Is that all a delusion which speaks + from the golden page? And is the world only given to harsh and anxious + travellers that walk to and fro in pursuit of no gentle shadows? Are the + chimeras of the passions the sole spirits of the universe? No! while my + remembrance treasures in its deepest cell the image of one no more,—one + who was “not of the earth, earthy;” one in whom love was the essence of + thoughts divine; one whose shape and mould, whose heart and genius, would, + had Poesy never before dreamed it, have called forth the first notion of + spirits resembling mortals, but not of them,—no, Gertrude! while I + remember you, the faith, the trust in brighter shapes and fairer natures + than the world knows of, comes clinging to my heart; and still will I + think that Fairies might have watched over your sleep and Spirits have + ministered to your dreams. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. FEELINGS. + </h2> + <p> + GERTRUDE and her companions proceeded by slow and, to her, delightful + stages to Rotterdam. Trevylyan sat by her side, and her hand was ever in + his; and when her delicate frame became sensible of fatigue, her head + drooped on his shoulder as its natural resting-place. Her father was a man + who had lived long enough to have encountered many reverses of fortune, + and they had left him, as I am apt to believe long adversity usually does + leave its prey, somewhat chilled and somewhat hardened to affection; + passive and quiet of hope, resigned to the worst as to the common order of + events, and expecting little from the best, as an unlooked-for incident in + the regularity of human afflictions. He was insensible of his daughter’s + danger, for he was not one whom the fear of love endows with prophetic + vision; and he lived tranquilly in the present, without asking what new + misfortune awaited him in the future. Yet he loved his child, his only + child, with whatever of affection was left him by the many shocks his + heart had received; and in her approaching connection with one rich and + noble as Trevylyan, he felt even something bordering upon pleasure. Lapped + in the apathetic indifference of his nature, he leaned back in the + carriage, enjoying the bright weather that attended their journey, and + sensible—for he was one of fine and cultivated taste—of + whatever beauties of nature or remains of art varied their course. A + companion of this sort was the most agreeable that two persons never + needing a third could desire; he left them undisturbed to the intoxication + of their mutual presence; he marked not the interchange of glances; he + listened not to the whisper, the low delicious whisper, with which the + heart speaks its sympathy to heart. He broke not that charmed silence + which falls over us when the thoughts are full, and words leave nothing to + explain; that repose of feeling; that certainty that we are understood + without the effort of words, which makes the real luxury of intercourse + and the true enchantment of travel. What a memory hours like these + bequeath, after we have settled down into the calm occupation of common + life! How beautiful, through the vista of years, seems that brief + moonlight track upon the waters of our youth! + </p> + <p> + And Trevylyan’s nature, which, as I have said before, was naturally hard + and stern, which was hot, irritable, ambitious, and prematurely tinctured + with the policy and lessons of the world, seemed utterly changed by the + peculiarities of his love. Every hour, every moment was full of incident + to him; every look of Gertrude’s was entered in the tablets of his heart; + so that his love knew no languor, it required no change: he was absorbed + in it,—<i>it was himself</i>! And he was soft, and watchful as the + step of a mother by the couch of her sick child; the lion within him was + tamed by indomitable love; the sadness, the presentiment, that was mixed + with all his passion for Gertrude, filled him too with that poetry of + feeling which is the result of thoughts weighing upon us, and not to be + expressed by ordinary language. In this part of their journey, as I find + by the date, were the following lines written; they are to be judged as + the lines of one in whom emotion and truth were the only inspiration:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. As leaves left darkling in the flush of day, + When glints the glad sun checkering o’er the tree, + I see the green earth brightening in the ray, + Which only casts a shadow upon me! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + II. What are the beams, the flowers, the glory, all + Life’s glow and gloss, the music and the bloom, + When every sun but speeds the Eternal Pall, + And Time is Death that dallies with the Tomb? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + III. And yet—oh yet, so young, so pure!—the while + Fresh laugh the rose-hues round youth’s morning sky, + That voice, those eyes, the deep love of that smile, + Are they not soul—<i>all</i> soul—and <i>can</i> they die? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IV. Are there the words “NO MORE” for thoughts like ours? + Must the bark sink upon so soft a wave? + Hath the short summer of thy life no flowers + But those which bloom above thine early grave? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + V. O God! and what is life, that I should live? + (Hath not the world enow of common clay?) + And she—the Rose—whose life a soul could give + To the void desert, sigh its sweets away? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VI. And I that love thee thus, to whom the air, + Blest by thy breath, makes heaven where’er it be, + Watch thy cheek wane, and smile away despair, + Lest it should dim one hour yet left to Thee. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VII. Still let me conquer self; oh, still conceal + By the smooth brow the snake that coils below; + Break, break my heart! it comforts yet to feel + That <i>she</i> dreams on, unwakened by my woe! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VIII. Hushed, where the Star’s soft angel loves to keep + Watch o’er their tide, the morning waters roll; + So glides my spirit,—darkness in the deep, + But o’er the wave the presence of thy soul! +</pre> + <p> + Gertrude had not as yet the presentiments that filled the soul of + Trevylyan. She thought too little of herself to know her danger, and those + hours to her were hours of unmingled sweetness. Sometimes, indeed, the + exhaustion of her disease tinged her spirits with a vague sadness, an + abstraction came over her, and a languor she vainly struggled against. + These fits of dejection and gloom touched Trevylyan to the quick; his eye + never ceased to watch them, nor his heart to soothe. Often when he marked + them, he sought to attract her attention from what he fancied, though + erringly, a sympathy with his own forebodings, and to lead her young and + romantic imagination through the temporary beguilements of fiction; for + Gertrude was yet in the first bloom of youth, and all the dews of + beautiful childhood sparkled freshly from the virgin blossoms of her mind. + And Trevylyan, who had passed some of his early years among the students + of Leipsic, and was deeply versed in the various world of legendary lore, + ransacked his memory for such tales as seemed to him most likely to win + her interest; and often with false smiles entered into the playful tale, + or oftener, with more faithful interest, into the graver legend of trials + that warned yet beguiled them from their own. Of such tales I have + selected but a few; I know not that they are the least unworthy of + repetition,—they are those which many recollections induce me to + repeat the most willingly. Gertrude loved these stories, for she had not + yet lost, by the coldness of the world, one leaf from that soft and wild + romance which belonged to her beautiful mind; and, more than all, she + loved the sound of a voice which every day became more and more musical to + her ear. “Shall I tell you,” said Trevylyan, one morning, as he observed + her gloomier mood stealing over the face of Gertrude,—“shall I tell + you, ere yet we pass into the dull land of Holland, a story of Malines, + whose spires we shall shortly see?” Gertrude’s face brightened at once, + and as she leaned back in the carriage as it whirled rapidly along, and + fixed her deep blue eyes on Trevylyan, he began the following tale. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE MAID OF MALINES. + </h2> + <p> + IT was noonday in the town of Malines, or Mechlin, as the English usually + term it; the Sabbath bell had summoned the inhabitants to divine worship; + and the crowd that had loitered round the Church of St. Rembauld had + gradually emptied itself within the spacious aisles of the sacred edifice. + </p> + <p> + A young man was standing in the street, with his eyes bent on the ground, + and apparently listening for some sound; for without raising his looks + from the rude pavement, he turned to every corner of it with an intent and + anxious expression of countenance. He held in one hand a staff, in the + other a long slender cord, the end of which trailed on the ground; every + now and then he called, with a plaintive voice, “Fido, Fido, come back! + Why hast thou deserted me?” Fido returned not; the dog, wearied of + confinement, had slipped from the string, and was at play with his kind in + a distant quarter of the town, leaving the blind man to seek his way as he + might to his solitary inn. + </p> + <p> + By and by a light step passed through the street, and the young stranger’s + face brightened. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said he, turning to the spot where his quick ear had caught + the sound, “and direct me, if you are not much pressed for a few moments’ + time, to the hotel ‘Mortier d’Or.’” + </p> + <p> + It was a young woman, whose dress betokened that she belonged to the + middling class of life, whom he thus addressed. “It is some distance + hence, sir,” said she; “but if you continue your way straight on for about + a hundred yards, and then take the second turn to your right hand—” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” interrupted the stranger, with a melancholy smile, “your direction + will avail me little; my dog has deserted me, and I am blind!” + </p> + <p> + There was something in these words, and in the stranger’s voice, which + went irresistibly to the heart of the young woman. “Pray forgive me,” she + said, almost with tears in her eyes, “I did not perceive your—” + misfortune, she was about to say, but she checked herself with an + instinctive delicacy. “Lean upon me, I will conduct you to the door; nay, + sir,” observing that he hesitated, “I have time enough to spare, I assure + you.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger placed his hand on the young woman’s arm; and though Lucille + was naturally so bashful that even her mother would laughingly reproach + her for the excess of a maiden virtue, she felt not the least pang of + shame, as she found herself thus suddenly walking through the streets of + Malines along with a young stranger, whose dress and air betokened him of + rank superior to her own. + </p> + <p> + “Your voice is very gentle,” said he, after a pause; “and that,” he added, + with a slight sigh, “is the only criterion by which I know the young and + the beautiful!” Lucille now blushed, and with a slight mixture of pain in + the blush, for she knew well that to beauty she had no pretension. “Are + you a native of this town?” continued he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; my father holds a small office in the customs, and my mother + and I eke out his salary by making lace. We are called poor, but we do not + feel it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You are fortunate! there is no wealth like the heart’s wealth,—content,” + answered the blind man, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “And, monsieur,” said Lucille, feeling angry with herself that she had + awakened a natural envy in the stranger’s mind, and anxious to change the + subject—“and, monsieur, has he been long at Malines?” + </p> + <p> + “But yesterday. I am passing through the Low Countries on a tour; perhaps + you smile at the tour of a blind man, but it is wearisome even to the + blind to rest always in the same place. I thought during church-time, when + the streets were empty, that I might, by the help of my dog, enjoy safely + at least the air, if not the sight of the town; but there are some + persons, methinks, who cannot have even a dog for a friend!” + </p> + <p> + The blind man spoke bitterly,—the desertion of his dog had touched + him to the core. Lucille wiped her eyes. “And does Monsieur travel then + alone?” said she; and looking at his face more attentively than she had + yet ventured to do, she saw that he was scarcely above two-and-twenty. + “His father, and his <i>mother</i>,” she added, with an emphasis on the + last word, “are they not with him?” + </p> + <p> + “I am an orphan!” answered the stranger; “and I have neither brother nor + sister.” + </p> + <p> + The desolate condition of the blind man quite melted Lucille; never had + she been so strongly affected. She felt a strange flutter at the heart, a + secret and earnest sympathy, that attracted her at once towards him. She + wished that Heaven had suffered her to be his sister! + </p> + <p> + The contrast between the youth and the form of the stranger, and the + affliction which took hope from the one and activity from the other, + increased the compassion he excited. His features were remarkably regular, + and had a certain nobleness in their outline; and his frame was gracefully + and firmly knit, though he moved cautiously and with no cheerful step. + </p> + <p> + They had now passed into a narrow street leading towards the hotel, when + they heard behind them the clatter of hoofs; and Lucille, looking hastily + back, saw that a troop of the Belgian horse was passing through the town. + </p> + <p> + She drew her charge close by the wall, and trembling with fear for him, + she stationed herself by his side. The troop passed at a full trot through + the street; and at the sound of their clanging arms, and the ringing hoofs + of their heavy chargers, Lucille might have seen, had she looked at the + blind man’s face, that its sad features kindled with enthusiasm, and his + head was raised proudly from its wonted and melancholy bend. “Thank + Heaven!” she said, as the troop had nearly passed them, “the danger is + over!” Not so. One of the last two soldiers who rode abreast was + unfortunately mounted on a young and unmanageable horse. The rider’s oaths + and digging spur only increased the fire and impatience of the charger; it + plunged from side to side of the narrow street. + </p> + <p> + “Look to yourselves!” cried the horseman, as he was borne on to the place + where Lucille and the stranger stood against the wall. “Are ye mad? Why do + you not run?” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven’s sake, for mercy’s sake, he is blind!” cried Lucille, + clinging to the stranger’s side. + </p> + <p> + “Save yourself, my kind guide!” said the stranger. But Lucille dreamed not + of such desertion. The trooper wrested the horse’s head from the spot + where they stood; with a snort, as it felt the spur, the enraged animal + lashed out with its hind-legs; and Lucille, unable to save <i>both</i>, + threw herself before the blind man, and received the shock directed + against him; her slight and delicate arm fell broken by her side, the + horseman was borne onward. “Thank God, <i>you</i> are saved!” was poor + Lucille’s exclamation; and she fell, overcome with pain and terror, into + the arms which the stranger mechanically opened to receive her. + </p> + <p> + “My guide! my friend!” cried he, “you are hurt, you—” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” interrupted Lucille, faintly, “I am better, I am well. <i>This</i> + arm, if you please,—we are not far from your hotel now.” + </p> + <p> + But the stranger’s ear, tutored to every inflection of voice, told him at + once of the pain she suffered. He drew from her by degrees the confession + of the injury she had sustained; but the generous girl did not tell him it + had been incurred solely in his protection. He now insisted on reversing + their duties, and accompanying <i>her</i> to her home; and Lucille, almost + fainting with pain, and hardly able to move, was forced to consent. But a + few steps down the next turning stood the humble mansion of her father. + They reached it; and Lucille scarcely crossed the threshold, before she + sank down, and for some minutes was insensible to pain. It was left to the + stranger to explain, and to beseech them immediately to send for a + surgeon, “the most skilful, the most practised in the town,” said he. + “See, I am rich, and this is the least I can do to atone to your generous + daughter, for not forsaking even a stranger in peril.” + </p> + <p> + He held out his purse as he spoke, but the father refused the offer; and + it saved the blind man some shame, that he could not see the blush of + honest resentment with which so poor a species of renumeration was put + aside. + </p> + <p> + The young man stayed till the surgeon arrived, till the arm was set; nor + did he depart until he had obtained a promise from the mother that he + should learn the next morning how the sufferer had passed the night. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, indeed, he had intended to quit a town that offers but + little temptation to the traveller; but he tarried day after day, until + Lucille herself accompanied her mother, to assure him of her recovery. + </p> + <p> + You know, at least I do, dearest Gertrude, that there is such a thing as + love at the first meeting,—a secret, an unaccountable affinity + between persons (strangers before) which draws them irresistibly together,—as + if there were truth in Plato’s beautiful fantasy, that our souls were a + portion of the stars, and that spirits, thus attracted to each other, have + drawn their original light from the same orb, and yearn for a renewal of + their former union. Yet without recurring to such fanciful solutions of a + daily mystery, it was but natural that one in the forlorn and desolate + condition of Eugene St. Amand should have felt a certain tenderness for a + person who had so generously suffered for his sake. + </p> + <p> + The darkness to which he was condemned did not shut from his mind’s eye + the haunting images of Ideal beauty; rather, on the contrary, in his + perpetual and unoccupied solitude, he fed the reveries of an imagination + naturally warm, and a heart eager for sympathy and commune. + </p> + <p> + He had said rightly that his only test of beauty was in the melody of + voice; and never had a softer or more thrilling tone than that of the + young maiden touched upon his ear. Her exclamation, so beautifully denying + self, so devoted in its charity, “Thank God, <i>you</i> are saved!” + uttered too in the moment of her own suffering, rang constantly upon his + soul, and he yielded, without precisely defining their nature, to vague + and delicious sentiments, that his youth had never awakened to till then. + And Lucille—the very accident that had happened to her on his behalf + only deepened the interest she had already conceived for one who, in the + first flush of youth, was thus cut off from the glad objects of life, and + left to a night of years desolate and alone. There is, to your beautiful + and kindly sex, a natural inclination to <i>protect</i>. This makes them + the angels of sickness, the comforters of age, the fosterers of childhood; + and this feeling, in Lucille peculiarly developed, had already + inexpressibly linked her compassionate nature to the lot of the + unfortunate traveller. With ardent affections, and with thoughts beyond + her station and her years, she was not without that modest vanity which + made her painfully susceptible to her own deficiencies in beauty. + Instinctively conscious of how deeply she herself could love, she believed + it impossible that she could ever be so loved in return. The stranger, so + superior in her eyes to all she had yet seen, was the first who had ever + addressed her in that voice which by tones, not words, speaks that + admiration most dear to a woman’s heart. To <i>him</i> she was beautiful, + and her lovely mind spoke out, undimmed by the imperfections of her face. + Not, indeed, that Lucille was wholly without personal attraction; her + light step and graceful form were elastic with the freshness of youth, and + her mouth and smile had so gentle and tender an expression, that there + were moments when it would not have been the blind only who would have + mistaken her to be beautiful. Her early childhood had indeed given the + promise of attractions, which the smallpox, that then fearful malady, had + inexorably marred. It had not only seared the smooth skin and brilliant + hues, but utterly changed even the character of the features. It so + happened that Lucille’s family were celebrated for beauty, and vain of + that celebrity; and so bitterly had her parents deplored the effects of + the cruel malady, that poor Lucille had been early taught to consider them + far more grievous than they really were, and to exaggerate the advantages + of that beauty, the loss of which was considered by her parents so heavy a + misfortune. Lucille, too, had a cousin named Julie, who was the wonder of + all Malines for her personal perfections; and as the cousins were much + together, the contrast was too striking not to occasion frequent + mortification to Lucille. But every misfortune has something of a + counterpoise; and the consciousness of personal inferiority had meekened, + without souring, her temper, had given gentleness to a spirit that + otherwise might have been too high, and humility to a mind that was + naturally strong, impassioned, and energetic. + </p> + <p> + And yet Lucille had long conquered the one disadvantage she most dreaded + in the want of beauty. Lucille was never known but to be loved. Wherever + came her presence, her bright and soft mind diffused a certain + inexpressible charm; and where she was not, a something was absent from + the scene which not even Julie’s beauty could replace. + </p> + <p> + “I propose,” said St. Amand to Madame le Tisseur, Lucille’s mother, as he + sat in her little salon,—for he had already contracted that + acquaintance with the family which permitted him to be led to their house, + to return the visits Madame le Tisseur had made him, and his dog, once + more returned a penitent to his master, always conducted his steps to the + humble abode, and stopped instinctively at the door,—“I propose,” + said St. Amand, after a pause, and with some embarrassment, “to stay a + little while longer at Malines; the air agrees with me, and I like the + quiet of the place; but you are aware, madam, that at a hotel among + strangers, I feel my situation somewhat cheerless. I have been thinking”—St. + Amand paused again—“I have been thinking that if I could persuade + some agreeable family to receive me as a lodger, I would fix myself here + for some weeks. I am easily pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless there are many in Malines who would be too happy to receive + such a lodger.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you receive me?” asked St. Amand, abruptly. “It was of <i>your</i> + family I thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Of us? Monsieur is too flattering. But we have scarcely a room good + enough for you.” + </p> + <p> + “What difference between one room and another can there be to me? That is + the best apartment to my choice in which the human voice sounds most + kindly.” + </p> + <p> + The arrangement was made, and St. Amand came now to reside beneath the + same roof as Lucille. And was she not happy that <i>he</i> wanted so + constant an attendance; was she not happy that she was ever of use? St. + Amand was passionately fond of music; he played himself with a skill that + was only surpassed by the exquisite melody of his voice, and was not + Lucille happy when she sat mute and listening to such sounds as in Malines + were never heard before? Was she not happy in gazing on a face to whose + melancholy aspect her voice instantly summoned the smile? Was she not + happy when the music ceased, and St. Amand called “Lucille”? Did not her + own name uttered by that voice seem to her even sweeter than the music? + Was she not happy when they walked out in the still evenings of summer, + and her arm thrilled beneath the light touch of one to whom she was so + necessary? Was she not proud in her happiness, and was there not something + like worship in the gratitude she felt to him for raising her humble + spirit to the luxury of feeling herself beloved? + </p> + <p> + St. Amand’s parents were French. They had resided in the neighbourhood of + Amiens, where they had inherited a competent property, to which he had + succeeded about two years previous to the date of my story. + </p> + <p> + He had been blind from the age of three years. “I know not,” said he, as + he related these particulars to Lucille one evening when they were alone,—“I + know not what the earth may be like, or the heaven, or the rivers whose + voice at least I can hear, for I have no recollection beyond that of a + confused but delicious blending of a thousand glorious colours, a bright + and quick sense of joy, A VISIBLE MUSIC. But it is only since my childhood + closed that I have mourned, as I now unceasingly mourn, for the light of + day. My boyhood passed in a quiet cheerfulness; the least trifle then + could please and occupy the vacancies of my mind; but it was as I took + delight in being read to, as I listened to the vivid descriptions of + Poetry, as I glowed at the recital of great deeds, as I was made + acquainted by books with the energy, the action, the heat, the fervour, + the pomp, the enthusiasm of life, that I gradually opened to the sense of + all I was forever denied. I felt that I existed, not lived; and that, in + the midst of the Universal Liberty, I was sentenced to a prison, from + whose blank walls there was no escape. Still, however, while my parents + lived, I had something of consolation; at least I was not alone. They + died, and a sudden and dread solitude, a vast and empty dreariness, + settled upon my dungeon. One old servant only, who had attended me from my + childhood, who had known me in my short privilege of light, by whose + recollections my mind could grope back its way through the dark and narrow + passages of memory to faint glimpses of the sun, was all that remained to + me of human sympathies. It did not suffice, however, to content me with a + home where my father and my mother’s kind voice were <i>not</i>. A + restless impatience, an anxiety to move, possessed me, and I set out from + my home, journeying whither I cared not, so that at least I could change + an air that weighed upon me like a palpable burden. I took only this old + attendant as my companion; he too died three months since at Bruxelles, + worn out with years. Alas! I had forgotten that he was old, for I saw not + his progress to decay; and now, save my faithless dog, I was utterly + alone, till I came hither and found <i>thee</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Lucille stooped down to caress the dog; she blessed the desertion that had + led him to a friend who never could desert. + </p> + <p> + But however much, and however gratefully, St. Amand loved Lucille, her + power availed not to chase the melancholy from his brow, and to reconcile + him to his forlorn condition. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, would that I could see thee! would that I could look upon a face that + my heart vainly endeavours to delineate!” + </p> + <p> + “If thou couldst,” sighed Lucille, “thou wouldst cease to love me.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” cried St. Amand, passionately. “However the world may find + thee, <i>thou</i> wouldst become my standard of beauty; and I should judge + not of thee by others, but of others by thee.” + </p> + <p> + He loved to hear Lucille read to him, and mostly he loved the descriptions + of war, of travel, of wild adventure, and yet they occasioned him the most + pain. Often she paused from the page as she heard him sigh, and felt that + she would even have renounced the bliss of being loved by him, if she + could have restored to him that blessing, the desire for which haunted him + as a spectre. + </p> + <p> + Lucille’s family were Catholic, and, like most in their station, they + possessed the superstitions, as well as the devotion of the faith. + Sometimes they amused themselves of an evening by the various legends and + imaginary miracles of their calendar; and once, as they were thus + conversing with two or three of their neighbours, “The Tomb of the Three + Kings of Cologne” became the main topic of their wondering recitals. + However strong was the sense of Lucille, she was, as you will readily + conceive, naturally influenced by the belief of those with whom she had + been brought up from her cradle, and she listened to tale after tale of + the miracles wrought at the consecrated tomb, as earnestly and + undoubtingly as the rest. + </p> + <p> + And the Kings of the East were no ordinary saints; to the relics of the + Three Magi, who followed the Star of Bethlehem, and were the first + potentates of the earth who adored its Saviour, well might the pious + Catholic suppose that a peculiar power and a healing sanctity would + belong. Each of the circle (St. Amand, who had been more than usually + silent, and even gloomy during the day, had retired to his own apartment, + for there were some moments when, in the sadness of his thoughts, he + sought that solitude which he so impatiently fled from at others)—each + of the circle had some story to relate equally veracious and indisputable, + of an infirmity cured, or a prayer accorded, or a sin atoned for at the + foot of the holy tomb. One story peculiarly affected Lucille; the + narrator, a venerable old man with gray locks, solemnly declared himself a + witness of its truth. + </p> + <p> + A woman at Anvers had given birth to a son, the offspring of an illicit + connection, who came into the world deaf and dumb. The unfortunate mother + believed the calamity a punishment for her own sin. “Ah, would,” said she, + “that the affliction had fallen only upon me! Wretch that I am, my + innocent child is punished for my offence!” This, idea haunted her night + and day; she pined and could not be comforted. As the child grew up, and + wound himself more and more round her heart, his caresses added new pangs + to her remorse; and at length (continued the narrator) hearing perpetually + of the holy fame of the Tomb of Cologne, she resolved upon a pilgrimage + barefoot to the shrine. “God is merciful,” said she; “and He who called + Magdalene his sister may take the mother’s curse from the child.” She then + went to Cologne; she poured her tears, her penitence, and her prayers at + the sacred tomb. When she returned to her native town, what was her dismay + as she approached her cottage to behold it a heap of ruins! Its blackened + rafters and yawning casements betokened the ravages of fire. The poor + woman sank upon the ground utterly overpowered. Had her son perished? At + that moment she heard the cry of a child’s voice, and, lo! her child + rushed to her arms, and called her “mother!” + </p> + <p> + He had been saved from the fire, which had broken out seven days before; + but in the terror he had suffered, the string that tied his tongue had + been loosened; he had uttered articulate sounds of distress; the curse was + removed, and one word at least the kind neighbours had already taught him + to welcome his mother’s return. What cared she now that her substance was + gone, that her roof was ashes? She bowed in grateful submission to so mild + a stroke; her prayer had been heard, and the sin of the mother was visited + no longer on the child. + </p> + <p> + I have said, dear Gertrude, that this story made a deep impression upon + Lucille. A misfortune so nearly akin to that of St. Amand removed by the + prayer of another filled her with devoted thoughts and a beautiful hope. + “Is not the tomb still standing?” thought she. “Is not God still in + heaven?—He who heard the guilty, may He not hear the guiltless? Is + He not the God of love? Are not the affections the offerings that please + Him best? And what though the child’s mediator was his mother, can even a + mother love her child more tenderly than I love Eugene? But if, Lucille, + thy prayer be granted, if he recover his sight, <i>thy</i> charm is gone, + he will love thee no longer. No matter! be it so,—I shall at least + have made him happy!” + </p> + <p> + Such were the thoughts that filled the mind of Lucille; she cherished them + till they settled into resolution, and she secretly vowed to perform her + pilgrimage of love. She told neither St. Amand nor her parents of her + intention; she knew the obstacles such an announcement would create. + Fortunately she had an aunt settled at Bruxelles, to whom she had been + accustomed once in every year to pay a month’s visit, and at that time she + generally took with her the work of a twelvemonths’ industry, which found + a readier sale at Bruxelles than at Malines. Lucille and St. Amand were + already betrothed; their wedding was shortly to take place; and the custom + of the country leading parents, however poor, to nourish the honourable + ambition of giving some dowry with their daughters, Lucille found it easy + to hide the object of her departure, under the pretence of taking the lace + to Bruxelles, which had been the year’s labour of her mother and herself,—it + would sell for sufficient, at least, to defray the preparations for the + wedding. + </p> + <p> + “Thou art ever right, child,” said Madame le Tisseur; “the richer St. + Amand is, why, the less oughtest thou to go a beggar to his house.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, the honest ambition of the good people was excited; their pride + had been hurt by the envy of the town and the current congratulations on + so advantageous a marriage; and they employed themselves in counting up + the fortune they should be able to give to their only child, and + flattering their pardonable vanity with the notion that there would be no + such great disproportion in the connection after all. They were right, but + not in their own view of the estimate; the wealth that Lucille brought was + what fate could not lessen, reverse could not reach; the ungracious + seasons could not blight its sweet harvest; imprudence could not + dissipate, fraud could not steal, one grain from its abundant coffers! + Like the purse in the Fairy Tale, its use was hourly, its treasure + inexhaustible. + </p> + <p> + St. Amand alone was not to be won to her departure; he chafed at the + notion of a dowry; he was not appeased even by Lucille’s representation + that it was only to gratify and not to impoverish her parents. “And <i>thou</i>, + too, canst leave me!” he said, in that plaintive voice which had made his + first charm to Lucille’s heart. “It is a double blindness!” + </p> + <p> + “But for a few days; a fortnight at most, dearest Eugene.” + </p> + <p> + “A fortnight! you do not reckon time as the blind do,” said St. Amand, + bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “But listen, listen, dear Eugene,” said Lucille, weeping. + </p> + <p> + The sound of her sobs restored him to a sense of his ingratitude. Alas, he + knew not how much he had to be grateful for! He held out his arms to her. + “Forgive me,” said he. “Those who can see Nature know not how terrible it + is to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “But my mother will not leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not you!” + </p> + <p> + “And Julie,” said Lucille, hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “What is Julie to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are the only one, save my parents, who could think of me in her + presence.” + </p> + <p> + “And why, Lucille?” + </p> + <p> + “Why! She is more beautiful than a dream.” + </p> + <p> + “Say not so. Would I could see, that I might prove to the world how much + more beautiful thou art! There is no music in her voice.” + </p> + <p> + The evening before Lucille departed she sat up late with St. Amand and her + mother. They conversed on the future; they made plans; in the wide + sterility of the world they laid out the garden of household love, and + filled it with flowers, forgetful of the wind that scatters and the frost + that kills. And when, leaning on Lucille’s arm, St. Amand sought his + chamber, and they parted at his door, which closed upon her, she fell down + on her knees at the threshold, and poured out the fulness of her heart in + a prayer for his safety and the fulfilment of her timid hope. + </p> + <p> + At daybreak she was consigned to the conveyance that performed the short + journey from Malines to Bruxelles. When she entered the town, instead of + seeking her aunt, she rested at an <i>auberge</i> in the suburbs, and + confiding her little basket of lace to the care of its hostess, she set + out alone, and on foot, upon the errand of her heart’s lovely + superstition. And erring though it was, her faith redeemed its weakness, + her affection made it even sacred; and well may we believe that the Eye + which reads all secrets scarce looked reprovingly on that fanaticism whose + only infirmity was love. + </p> + <p> + So fearful was she lest, by rendering the task too easy, she might impair + the effect, that she scarcely allowed herself rest or food. Sometimes, in + the heat of noon, she wandered a little from the roadside, and under the + spreading lime-tree surrendered her mind to its sweet and bitter thoughts; + but ever the restlessness of her enterprise urged her on, and faint, + weary, and with bleeding feet, she started up and continued her way. At + length she reached the ancient city, where a holier age has scarce worn + from the habits and aspects of men the Roman trace. She prostrated herself + at the tomb of the Magi; she proffered her ardent but humble prayer to Him + before whose Son those fleshless heads (yet to faith at least preserved) + had, eighteen centuries ago, bowed in adoration. Twice every day, for a + whole week, she sought the same spot, and poured forth the same prayer. + The last day an old priest, who, hovering in the church, had observed her + constantly at devotion, with that fatherly interest which the better + ministers of the Catholic sect (that sect which has covered the earth with + the mansions of charity) feel for the unhappy, approached her as she was + retiring with moist and downcast eyes, and saluting her, assumed the + privilege of his order to inquire if there was aught in which his advice + or aid could serve. There was something in the venerable air of the old + man which encouraged Lucille; she opened her heart to him; she told him + all. The good priest was much moved by her simplicity and earnestness. He + questioned her minutely as to the peculiar species of blindness with which + St. Amand was afflicted; and after musing a little while, he said, + “Daughter, God is great and merciful; we must trust in His power, but we + must not forget that He mostly works by mortal agents. As you pass through + Louvain in your way home, fail not to see there a certain physician, named + Le Kain. He is celebrated through Flanders for the cures he has wrought + among the blind, and his advice is sought by all classes from far and + near. He lives hard by the Hotel de Ville, but any one will inform you of + his residence. Stay, my child, you shall take him a note from me; he is a + benevolent and kindly man, and you shall tell him exactly the same story + (and with the same voice) you have told to me.” + </p> + <p> + So saying the priest made Lucille accompany him to his home, and forcing + her to refresh herself less sparingly than she had yet done since she had + left Malines, he gave her his blessing, and a letter to Le Kain, which he + rightly judged would insure her a patient hearing from the physician. Well + known among all men of science was the name of the priest, and a word of + recommendation from him went further, where virtue and wisdom were + honoured, than the longest letter from the haughtiest sieur in Flanders. + </p> + <p> + With a patient and hopeful spirit, the young pilgrim turned her back on + the Roman Cologne; and now about to rejoin St. Amand, she felt neither the + heat of the sun nor the weariness of the road. It was one day at noon that + she again passed through Louvain, and she soon found herself by the noble + edifice of the Hotel de Ville. Proud rose its spires against the sky, and + the sun shone bright on its rich tracery and Gothic casements; the broad + open street was crowded with persons of all classes, and it was with some + modest alarm that Lucille lowered her veil and mingled with the throng. It + was easy, as the priest had said, to find the house of Le Kain; she bade + the servant take the priest’s letter to his master, and she was not long + kept waiting before she was admitted to the physician’s presence. He was a + spare, tall man, with a bald front, and a calm and friendly countenance. + He was not less touched than the priest had been by the manner in which + she narrated her story, described the affliction of her betrothed, and the + hope that had inspired the pilgrimage she had just made. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, encouragingly, “we must see our patient. You can bring + him hither to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir, I had hoped—” Lucille stopped suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “What, my young friend?” + </p> + <p> + “That I might have had the triumph of bringing you to Malines. I know, + sir, what you are about to say, and I know, sir, your time must be very + valuable; but I am not so poor as I seem, and Eugene, that is, M. St. + Amand, is very rich, and—and I have at Bruxelles what I am sure is a + large sum; it was to have provided for the wedding, but it is most + heartily at your service, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Le Kain smiled; he was one of those men who love to read the human heart + when its leaves are fair and undefiled; and, in the benevolence of + science, he would have gone a longer journey than from Louvain to Malines + to give sight to the blind, even had St. Amand been a beggar. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said he, “but you forget that M. St. Amand is not the only + one in the world who wants me. I must look at my notebook, and see if I + can be spared for a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he glanced at his memoranda. Everything smiled on Lucille; he + had no engagements that his partner could not fulfil, for some days; he + consented to accompany Lucille to Malines. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, cheerless and dull had passed the time to St. Amand. He was + perpetually asking Madame le Tisseur what hour it was,—it was almost + his only question. There seemed to him no sun in the heavens, no freshness + in the air, and he even forbore his favourite music; the instrument had + lost its sweetness since Lucille was not by to listen. + </p> + <p> + It was natural that the gossips of Malines should feel some envy at the + marriage Lucille was about to make with one whose competence report had + exaggerated into prodigal wealth, whose birth had been elevated from the + respectable to the noble, and whose handsome person was clothed, by the + interest excited by his misfortune, with the beauty of Antinous. Even that + misfortune, which ought to have levelled all distinctions, was not + sufficient to check the general envy; perhaps to some of the damsels of + Malines blindness in a husband would not have seemed an unwelcome + infirmity! But there was one in whom this envy rankled with a peculiar + sting: it was the beautiful, the all-conquering Julie! That the humble, + the neglected Lucille should be preferred to her; that Lucille, whose + existence was well-nigh forgot beside Julie’s, should become thus suddenly + of importance; that there should be one person in the world, and that + person young, rich, handsome, to whom she was less than nothing, when + weighed in the balance with Lucille, mortified to the quick a vanity that + had never till then received a wound. “It is well,” she would say with a + bitter jest, “that Lucille’s lover is blind. To be the one it is necessary + to be the other!” + </p> + <p> + During Lucille’s absence she had been constantly in Madame le Tisseur’s + house; indeed, Lucille had prayed her to be so. She had sought, with an + industry that astonished herself, to supply Lucille’s place; and among the + strange contradictions of human nature, she had learned during her efforts + to please, to love the object of those efforts,—as much at least as + she was capable of loving. + </p> + <p> + She conceived a positive hatred to Lucille; she persisted in imagining + that nothing but the accident of first acquaintance had deprived her of a + conquest with which she persuaded herself her happiness had become + connected. Had St. Amand never loved Lucille and proposed to Julie, his + misfortune would have made her reject him, despite his wealth and his + youth; but to be Lucille’s lover, and a conquest to be won from Lucille, + raised him instantly to an importance not his own. Safe, however, in his + affliction, the arts and beauty of Julie fell harmless on the fidelity of + St. Amand. Nay, he liked her less than ever, for it seemed an impertinence + in any one to counterfeit the anxiety and watchfulness of Lucille. + </p> + <p> + “It is time, surely it is time, Madame le Tisseur, that Lucille should + return? She might have sold all the lace in Malines by this time,” said + St. Amand, one day, peevishly. + </p> + <p> + “Patience, my dear friend, patience; perhaps she may return to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow! let me see, it is only six o’clock,—only six, you are + sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Just five, dear Eugene. Shall I read to you? This is a new book from + Paris; it has made a great noise,” said Julie. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, but I will not trouble you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is anything but trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “In a word, then, I would rather not.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that he could see!” thought Julie; “would I not punish him for this!” + </p> + <p> + “I hear carriage wheels; who can be passing this way? Surely it is the <i>voiturier</i> + from Bruxelles,” said St. Amand, starting up; “it is his day,—his + hour, too. No, no, it is a lighter vehicle,” and he sank down listlessly + on his seat. + </p> + <p> + Nearer and nearer rolled the wheels; they turned the corner; they stopped + at the lowly door; and, overcome, overjoyed, Lucille was clasped to the + bosom of St. Amand. + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” said she, blushing, as she recovered her self-possession, and + turned to Le Kain; “pray pardon me, sir. Dear Eugene, I have brought with + me one who, by God’s blessing, may yet restore you to sight.” + </p> + <p> + “We must not be sanguine, my child,” said Le Kain; “anything is better + than disappointment.” + </p> + <p> + To close this part of my story, dear Gertrude, Le Kain examined St. Amand, + and the result of the examination was a confident belief in the + probability of a cure. St. Amand gladly consented to the experiment of an + operation; it succeeded, the blind man saw! Oh, what were Lucille’s + feelings, what her emotion, what her joy, when she found the object of her + pilgrimage, of her prayers, fulfilled! That joy was so intense that in the + eternal alternations of human life she might have foretold from its excess + how bitter the sorrows fated to ensue. + </p> + <p> + As soon as by degrees the patient’s new sense became reconciled to the + light, his first, his only demand was for Lucille. “No, let me not see her + alone; let me see her in the midst of you all, that I may convince you + that the heart never is mistaken in its instincts.” With a fearful, a + sinking presentiment, Lucille yielded to the request, to which the + impetuous St. Amand would hear indeed no denial. The father, the mother, + Julie, Lucille, Julie’s younger sisters, assembled in the little parlour; + the door opened, and St. Amand stood hesitating on the threshold. One look + around sufficed to him; his face brightened, he uttered a cry of joy. + “Lucille! Lucille!” he exclaimed, “it is you, I know it, <i>you</i> only!” + He sprang forward <i>and fell at the feet of Julie</i>! + </p> + <p> + Flushed, elated, triumphant, Julie bent upon him her sparkling eyes; <i>she</i> + did not undeceive him. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, you mistake,” said Madame le Tisseur, in confusion; “that + is her cousin Julie,—this is your Lucille.” + </p> + <p> + St. Amand rose, turned, saw Lucille, and at that moment she wished herself + in her grave. Surprise, mortification, disappointment, almost dismay, were + depicted in his gaze. He had been haunting his prison-house with dreams, + and now, set free, he felt how unlike they were to the truth. Too new to + observation to read the woe, the despair, the lapse and shrinking of the + whole frame, that his look occasioned Lucille, he yet felt, when the first + shock of his surprise was over, that it was not thus he should thank her + who had restored him to sight. He hastened to redeem his error—ah! + how could it be redeemed? + </p> + <p> + From that hour all Lucille’s happiness was at an end; her fairy palace was + shattered in the dust; the magician’s wand was broken up; the Ariel was + given to the winds; and the bright enchantment no longer distinguished the + land she lived in from the rest of the barren world. It is true that St. + Amand’s words were kind; it is true that he remembered with the deepest + gratitude all she had done in his behalf; it is true that he forced + himself again and again to say, “She is my betrothed, my benefactress!” + and he cursed himself to think that the feelings he had entertained for + her were fled. Where was the passion of his words; where the ardour of his + tone; where that play and light of countenance which her step, her voice, + could formerly call forth? When they were alone he was embarrassed and + constrained, and almost cold; his hand no longer sought hers, his soul no + longer missed her if she was absent a moment from his side. When in their + household circle he seemed visibly more at ease; but did his eyes fasten + upon her who had opened them to the day; did they not wander at every + interval with a too eloquent admiration to the blushing and radiant face + of the exulting Julie? This was not, you will believe, suddenly + perceptible in one day or one week, but every day it was perceptible more + and more. Yet still—bewitched, ensnared, as St. Amand was he never + perhaps would have been guilty of an infidelity that he strove with the + keenest remorse to wrestle against, had it not been for the fatal + contrast, at the first moment of his gushing enthusiasm, which Julie had + presented to Lucille; but for that he would have formed no previous idea + of real and living beauty to aid the disappointment of his imaginings and + his dreams. He would have seen Lucille young and graceful, and with eyes + beaming affection, contrasted only by the wrinkled countenance and bended + frame of her parents, and she would have completed her conquest over him + before he had discovered that she was less beautiful than others; nay, + more,—that infidelity never could have lasted above the first few + days, if the vain and heartless object of it had not exerted every art, + all the power and witchery of her beauty, to cement and continue it. The + unfortunate Lucille—so susceptible to the slightest change in those + she loved, so diffident of herself, so proud too in that diffidence—no + longer necessary, no longer missed, no longer loved, could not bear to + endure the galling comparison between the past and the present. She fled + uncomplainingly to her chamber to indulge her tears, and thus, unhappily, + absent as her father generally was during the day, and busied as her + mother was either at work or in household matters, she left Julie a + thousand opportunities to complete the power she had begun to wield over—no, + not the heart!—the <i>senses</i> of St. Amand! Yet, still not + suspecting, in the open generosity of her mind, the whole extent of her + affliction, poor Lucille buoyed herself at times with the hope that when + once married, when, once in that intimacy of friendship, the unspeakable + love she felt for him could disclose itself with less restraint than at + present,—she would perhaps regain a heart which had been so + devotedly hers, that she could not think that without a fault it was + irrevocably gone: on that hope she anchored all the little happiness that + remained to her. And still St. Amand pressed their marriage, but in what + different tones! In fact, he wished to preclude from himself the + possibility of a deeper ingratitude than that which he had incurred + already. He vainly thought that the broken reed of love might be bound up + and strengthened by the ties of duty; and at least he was anxious that his + hand, his fortune, his esteem, his gratitude, should give to Lucille the + only recompense it was now in his power to bestow. Meanwhile, left alone + so often with Julie, and Julie bent on achieving the last triumph over his + heart, St. Amand was gradually preparing a far different reward, a far + different return, for her to whom he owed so incalculable a debt. + </p> + <p> + There was a garden, behind the house, in which there was a small arbour, + where often in the summer evenings Eugene and Lucille had sat together,—hours + never to return! One day she heard from her own chamber, where she sat + mourning, the sound of St. Amand’s flute swelling gently from that beloved + and consecrated bower. She wept as she heard it, and the memories that the + music bore softening and endearing his image, she began to reproach + herself that she had yielded so often to the impulse of her wounded + feelings; that chilled by <i>his</i> coldness, she had left him so often + to himself, and had not sufficiently dared to tell him of that affection + which, in her modest self-depreciation, constituted her only pretension to + his love. “Perhaps he is alone now,” she thought; “the air too is one + which he knows that I love;” and with her heart in her step, she stole + from the house and sought the arbour. She had scarce turned from her + chamber when the flute ceased; as she neared the arbour she heard voices,—Julie’s + voice in grief, St. Amand’s in consolation. A dread foreboding seized her; + her feet clung rooted to the earth. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, marry her, forget me,” said Julie; “in a few days you will be + another’s, and I—I—forgive me, Eugene, forgive me that I have + disturbed your happiness. I am punished sufficiently; my heart will break, + but it will break in loving you.” Sobs choked Julie’s voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, speak not thus,” said St. Amand. “I, <i>I</i> only am to blame,—I, + false to both, to both ungrateful. Oh, from the hour that these eyes + opened upon you I drank in a new life; the sun itself to me was less + wonderful than your beauty. But—but—let me forget that hour. + What do I not owe to Lucille? I shall be wretched,—I shall deserve + to be so; for shall I not think, Julie, that I have embittered your life + with our ill-fated love? But all that I can give—my hand, my home, + my plighted faith—must be hers. Nay, Julie, nay—why that look? + Could I act otherwise? Can I dream otherwise? Whatever the sacrifice, <i>must</i> + I not render it? Ah, what do I owe to Lucille, were it only for the + thought that but for her I might never have seen thee!” + </p> + <p> + Lucille stayed to hear no more; with the same soft step as that which had + borne her within hearing of these fatal words, she turned back once more + to her desolate chamber. + </p> + <p> + That evening, as St. Amand was sitting alone in his apartment, he heard a + gentle knock at the door. “Come in,” he said, and Lucille entered. He + started in some confusion, and would have taken her hand, but she gently + repulsed him. She took a seat opposite to him, and looking down, thus + addressed him:— + </p> + <p> + “My dear Eugene, that is, Monsieur St. Amand, I have something on my mind + that I think it better to speak at once; and if I do not exactly express + what I would wish to say, you must not be offended with Lucille: it is not + an easy matter to put into words what one feels deeply.” Colouring, and + suspecting something of the truth, St. Amand would have broken in upon her + here; but she with a gentle impatience motioned him to be silent, and + continued:— + </p> + <p> + “You know that when you once loved me, I used to tell you that you would + cease to do so could you see how undeserving I was of your attachment. I + did not deceive myself, Eugene; I always felt assured that such would be + the case, that your love for me necessarily rested on your affliction. But + for all that I never at least had a dream or a desire but for your + happiness; and God knows, that if again, by walking barefooted, not to + Cologne, but to Rome—to the end of the world—I could save you + from a much less misfortune than that of blindness, I would cheerfully do + it; yes, even though I might foretell all the while that, on my return, + you would speak to me coldly, think of me lightly, and that the penalty to + me would—would be—what it has been!” Here Lucille wiped a few + natural tears from her eyes. St. Amand, struck to the heart, covered his + face with his hands, without the courage to interrupt her. Lucille + continued:— + </p> + <p> + “That which I foresaw has come to pass; I am no longer to you what I once + was, when you could clothe this poor form and this homely face with a + beauty they did not possess. You would wed me still, it is true; but I am + proud, Eugene, and cannot stoop to gratitude where I once had love. I am + not so unjust as to blame you; the change was natural, was inevitable. I + should have steeled myself more against it; but I am now resigned. We must + part; you love Julie—that too is natural—and <i>she</i> loves + you; ah! what also more in the probable course of events? Julie loves you, + not yet, perhaps, so much as I did; but then she has not known you as I + have, and she whose whole life has been triumph cannot feel the gratitude + that I felt at fancying myself loved; but this will come—God grant + it! Farewell, then, forever, dear Eugene; I leave you when you no longer + want me; you are now independent of Lucille; wherever you go, a thousand + hereafter can supply my place. Farewell!” + </p> + <p> + She rose, as she said this, to leave the room; but St. Amand seizing her + hand, which she in vain endeavoured to withdraw from his clasp, poured + forth incoherently, passionately, his reproaches on himself, his eloquent + persuasion against her resolution. + </p> + <p> + “I confess,” said he, “that I have been allured for a moment; I confess + that Julie’s beauty made me less sensible to your stronger, your holier, + oh! far, far holier title to my love! But forgive me, dearest Lucille; + already I return to you, to all I once felt for you; make me not curse the + blessing of sight that I owe to you. You must not leave me; never can we + two part. Try me, only try me, and if ever hereafter my heart wander from + you, <i>then</i>, Lucille, leave me to my remorse!” + </p> + <p> + Even at that moment Lucille did not yield; she felt that his prayer was + but the enthusiasm of the hour; she felt that there was a virtue in her + pride,—that to leave him was a duty to herself. In vain he pleaded; + in vain were his embraces, his prayers; in vain he reminded her of their + plighted troth, of her aged parents, whose happiness had become wrapped in + her union with him: “How,—even were it as you wrongly believe,—how, + in honour to them, can I desert you, can I wed another?” + </p> + <p> + “Trust that, trust all, to me,” answered Lucille; “your honour shall be my + care, none shall blame <i>you</i>; only do not let your marriage with + Julie be celebrated here before their eyes: that is all I ask, all they + can expect. God bless you! do not fancy I shall be unhappy, for whatever + happiness the world gives you, shall I not have contributed to bestow it? + and with that thought I am above compassion.” + </p> + <p> + She glided from his arms, and left him to a solitude more bitter even than + that of blindness. That very night Lucille sought her mother; to her she + confided all. I pass over the reasons she urged, the arguments she + overcame; she conquered rather than convinced, and leaving to Madame le + Tisseur the painful task of breaking to her father her unalterable + resolution, she quitted Malines the next morning, and with a heart too + honest to be utterly without comfort, paid that visit to her aunt which + had been so long deferred. + </p> + <p> + The pride of Lucille’s parents prevented them from reproaching St. Amand. + He could not bear, however, their cold and altered looks; he left their + house; and though for several days he would not even see Julie, yet her + beauty and her art gradually resumed their empire over him. They were + married at Courtroi, and to the joy of the vain Julie departed to the gay + metropolis of France. But, before their departure, before his marriage, + St. Amand endeavoured to appease his conscience by obtaining for M. le + Tisseur a much more lucrative and honourable office than that he now held. + Rightly judging that Malines could no longer be a pleasant residence for + them, and much less for Lucille, the duties of the post were to be + fulfilled in another town; and knowing that M. le Tisseur’s delicacy would + revolt at receiving such a favour from his hands, he kept the nature of + his negotiation a close secret, and suffered the honest citizen to believe + that his own merits alone had entitled him to so unexpected a promotion. + </p> + <p> + Time went on. This quiet and simple history of humble affections took its + date in a stormy epoch of the world,—the dawning Revolution of + France. The family of Lucille had been little more than a year settled in + their new residence when Dumouriez led his army into the Netherlands. But + how meanwhile had that year passed for Lucille? I have said that her + spirit was naturally high; that though so tender, she was not weak. Her + very pilgrimage to Cologne alone, and at the timid age of seventeen, + proved that there was a strength in her nature no less than a devotion in + her love. The sacrifice she had made brought its own reward. She believed + St. Amand was happy, and she would not give way to the selfishness of + grief; she had still duties to perform; she could still comfort her + parents and cheer their age; she could still be all the world to them: she + felt this, and was consoled. Only once during the year had she heard of + Julie; she had been seen by a mutual friend at Paris, gay, brilliant, + courted, and admired; of St. Amand she heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + My tale, dear Gertrude, does not lead me through the harsh scenes of war. + I do not tell you of the slaughter and the siege, and the blood that + inundated those fair lands,—the great battlefield of Europe. The + people of the Netherlands in general were with the cause of Dumouriez, but + the town in which Le Tisseur dwelt offered some faint resistance to his + arms. Le Tisseur himself, despite his age, girded on his sword; the town + was carried, and the fierce and licentious troops of the conqueror poured, + flushed with their easy victory, through its streets. Le Tisseur’s house + was filled with drunken and rude troopers; Lucille herself trembled in the + fierce gripe of one of those dissolute soldiers, more bandit than soldier, + whom the subtle Dumouriez had united to his army, and by whose blood he so + often saved that of his nobler band. Her shrieks, her cries, were vain, + when suddenly the troopers gave way. “The Captain! brave Captain!” was + shouted forth; the insolent soldier, felled by a powerful arm, sank + senseless at the feet of Lucille, and a glorious form, towering above its + fellows,—even through its glittering garb, even in that dreadful + hour, remembered at a glance by Lucille,—stood at her side; her + protector, her guardian! Thus once more she beheld St. Amand! + </p> + <p> + The house was cleared in an instant, the door barred. Shouts, groans, wild + snatches of exulting song, the clang of arms, the tramp of horses, the + hurrying footsteps, the deep music sounded loud, and blended terribly + without. Lucille heard them not,—she was on that breast which never + should have deserted her. + </p> + <p> + Effectually to protect his friends, St. Amand took up his quarters at + their house; and for two days he was once more under the same roof as + Lucille. He never recurred voluntarily to Julie; he answered Lucille’s + timid inquiry after her health briefly, and with coldness, but he spoke + with all the enthusiasm of a long-pent and ardent spirit of the new + profession he had embraced. Glory seemed now to be his only mistress; and + the vivid delusion of the first bright dreams of the Revolution filled his + mind, broke from his tongue, and lighted up those dark eyes which Lucille + had redeemed to day. + </p> + <p> + She saw him depart at the head of his troops; she saw his proud crest + glancing in the sun; she saw his steed winding through the narrow street; + she saw that his last glance reverted to her, where she stood at the door; + and, as he waved his adieu, she fancied that there was on his face that + look of deep and grateful tenderness which reminded her of the one bright + epoch of her life. + </p> + <p> + She was right; St. Amand had long since in bitterness repented of a + transient infatuation, had long since distinguished the true Florimel from + the false, and felt that, in Julie, Lucille’s wrongs were avenged. But in + the hurry and heat of war he plunged that regret—the keenest of all—which + embodies the bitter words, “TOO LATE!” + </p> + <p> + Years passed away, and in the resumed tranquillity of Lucille’s life the + brilliant apparition of St. Amand appeared as something dreamed of, not + seen. The star of Napoleon had risen above the horizon; the romance of his + early career had commenced; and the campaign of Egypt had been the herald + of those brilliant and meteoric successes which flashed forth from the + gloom of the Revolution of France. + </p> + <p> + You are aware, dear Gertrude, how many in the French as well as the + English troops returned home from Egypt blinded with the ophthalmia of + that arid soil. Some of the young men in Lucille’s town, who had joined + Napoleon’s army, came back darkened by that fearful affliction, and + Lucille’s alms and Lucille’s aid and Lucille’s sweet voice were ever at + hand for those poor sufferers, whose common misfortune touched so + thrilling a chord of her heart. + </p> + <p> + Her father was now dead, and she had only her mother to cheer amidst the + ills of age. As one evening they sat at work together, Madame le Tisseur + said, after a pause,— + </p> + <p> + “I wish, dear Lucille, thou couldst be persuaded to marry Justin; he loves + thee well, and now that thou art yet young, and hast many years before + thee, thou shouldst remember that when I die thou wilt be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, cease, dearest mother, I never can marry now; and as for love—once + taught in the bitter school in which I have learned the knowledge of + myself—I cannot be deceived again.” + </p> + <p> + “My Lucille, you do not know yourself. Never was woman loved if Justin + does not love you; and never did lover feel with more real warmth how + worthily he loved.” + </p> + <p> + And this was true; and not of Justin alone, for Lucille’s modest virtues, + her kindly temper, and a certain undulating and feminine grace, which + accompanied all her movements, had secured her as many conquests as if she + had been beautiful. She had rejected all offers of marriage with a + shudder; without even the throb of a flattered vanity. One memory, sadder, + was also dearer to her than all things; and something sacred in its + recollections made her deem it even a crime to think of effacing the past + by a new affection. + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” continued Madame le Tisseur, angrily, “that thou still + thinkest fondly of him from whom only in the world thou couldst have + experienced ingratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Mother,” said Lucille, with a blush and a slight sigh, “Eugene is + married to another.” + </p> + <p> + While thus conversing, they heard a gentle and timid knock at the door; + the latch was lifted. “This,” said the rough voice of a <i>commissionaire</i> + of the town, “this, monsieur, is the house of Madame le Tisseur, and <i>voila + mademoiselle</i>!” A tall figure, with a shade over his eyes, and wrapped + in a long military cloak, stood in the room. A thrill shot across + Lucille’s heart. He stretched out his arms. “Lucille,” said that + melancholy voice, which had made the music of her first youth, “where art + thou, Lucille? Alas! she does not recognize St. Amand.” + </p> + <p> + Thus was it indeed. By a singular fatality, the burning suns and the sharp + dust of the plains of Egypt had smitten the young soldier, in the flush of + his career, with a second—and this time with an irremediable—blindness! + He had returned to France to find his hearth lonely. Julie was no more,—a + sudden fever had cut her off in the midst of youth; and he had sought his + way to Lucille’s house, to see if one hope yet remained to him in the + world! + </p> + <p> + And when, days afterwards, humbly and sadly he re-urged a former suit, did + Lucille shut her heart to its prayer? Did her pride remember its wound; + did she revert to his desertion; did she reply to the whisper of her + yearning love, “<i>Thou hast been before forsaken</i>”? That voice and + those darkened eyes pleaded to her with a pathos not to be resisted. “I am + once more necessary to him,” was all her thought; “if I reject him who + will tend him?” In that thought was the motive of her conduct; in that + thought gushed back upon her soul all the springs of checked but + unconquered, unconquerable love! In that thought, she stood beside him at + the altar, and pledged, with a yet holier devotion than she might have + felt of yore, the vow of her imperishable truth. + </p> + <p> + And Lucille found, in the future, a reward, which the common world could + never comprehend. With his blindness returned all the feelings she had + first awakened in St. Amand’s solitary heart; again he yearned for her + step, again he missed even a moment’s absence from his side, again her + voice chased the shadow from his brow, and in her presence was a sense of + shelter and of sunshine. He no longer sighed for the blessing he had lost; + he reconciled himself to fate, and entered into that serenity of mood + which mostly characterizes the blind. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps after we have seen the actual world, and experienced its hollow + pleasures, we can resign ourselves the better to its exclusion; and as the + cloister, which repels the ardour of our hope, is sweet to our + remembrance, so the darkness loses its terror when experience has wearied + us with the glare and travail of the day. It was something, too, as they + advanced in life, to feel the chains that bound him to Lucille + strengthening daily, and to cherish in his overflowing heart the sweetness + of increasing gratitude; it was something that he could not see years + wrinkle that open brow, or dim the tenderness of that touching smile; it + was something that to him she was beyond the reach of time, and preserved + to the verge of a grave (which received them both within a few days of + each other) in all the bloom of her unwithering affection, in all the + freshness of a heart that never could grow old! + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, who had broken in upon Trevylyan’s story by a thousand anxious + interruptions, and a thousand pretty apologies for interrupting, was + charmed with a tale in which true love was made happy at last, although + she did not forgive St. Amand his ingratitude, and although she declared, + with a critical shake of the head, that “it was very unnatural that the + mere beauty of Julie, or the mere want of it in Lucille, should have + produced such an effect upon him, if he had ever <i>really</i> loved + Lucille in his blindness.” + </p> + <p> + As they passed through Malines, the town assumed an interest in Gertrude’s + eyes to which it scarcely of itself was entitled. She looked wistfully at + the broad market-place, at a corner of which was one of those out-of-door + groups of quiet and noiseless revellers, which Dutch art has raised from + the Familiar to the Picturesque; and then glancing to the tower of St. + Rembauld, she fancied, amidst the silence of noon, that she yet heard the + plaintive cry of the blind orphan, “Fido, Fido, why hast thou deserted + me?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. ROTTERDAM.—THE CHARACTER OF THE DUTCH.—THEIR + RESEMBLANCE TO + </h2> + <p> + THE GERMANS.—A DISPUTE BETWEEN VANE AND TREVYLYAN, AFTER THE MANNER + OF THE ANCIENT NOVELISTS, AS TO WHICH IS PREFERABLE, THE LIFE OF ACTION OR + THE LIFE OF REPOSE.—TREVYLYAN’S CONTRAST BETWEEN LITERARY AMBITION + AND THE AMBITION OF PUBLIC LIFE. + </p> + <p> + OUR travellers arrived at Rotterdam on a bright and sunny day. There is a + cheerfulness about the operations of Commerce,—a life, a bustle, an + action which always exhilarate the spirits at the first glance. Afterwards + they fatigue us; we get too soon behind the scenes, and find the base and + troublous passions which move the puppets and conduct the drama. + </p> + <p> + But Gertrude, in whom ill health had not destroyed the vividness of + impression that belongs to the inexperienced, was delighted at the + cheeriness of all around her. As she leaned lightly on Trevylyan’s arm, he + listened with a forgetful joy to her questions and exclamations at the + stir and liveliness of a city from which was to commence their pilgrimage + along the Rhine. And indeed the scene was rife with the spirit of that + people at once so active and so patient, so daring on the sea, so cautious + on the land. Industry was visible everywhere; the vessels in the harbour, + the crowded boat putting off to land, the throng on the quay,—all + looked bustling and spoke of commerce. The city itself, on which the skies + shone fairly through light and fleecy clouds, wore a cheerful aspect. The + church of St. Lawrence rising above the clean, neat houses, and on one + side trees thickly grouped, gayly contrasted at once the waters and the + city. + </p> + <p> + “I like this place,” said Gertrude’s father, quietly; “it has an air of + comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “And an absence of grandeur,” said Trevylyan. + </p> + <p> + “A commercial people are one great middle-class in their habits and train + of mind,” replied Vane; “and grandeur belongs to the extremes,—an + impoverished population and a wealthy despot.” + </p> + <p> + They went to see the statue of Erasmus, and the house in which he was + born. Vane had a certain admiration for Erasmus which his companions did + not share; he liked the quiet irony of the sage, and his knowledge of the + world; and, besides, Vane was at that time of life when philosophers + become objects of interest. At first they are teachers; secondly, friends; + and it is only a few who arrive at the third stage, and find them + deceivers. The Dutch are a singular people. Their literature is neglected, + but it has some of the German vein in its strata,—the patience, the + learning, the homely delineation, and even some traces of the mixture of + the humorous and the terrible which form that genius for the grotesque so + especially German—you find this in their legends and ghost-stories. + But in Holland activity destroys, in Germany indolence nourishes, romance. + </p> + <p> + They stayed a day or two at Rotterdam, and then proceeded up the Rhine to + Gorcum. The banks were flat and tame, and nothing could be less impressive + of its native majesty than this part of the course of the great river. + </p> + <p> + “I never felt before,” whispered Gertrude, tenderly, “how much there was + of consolation in your presence; for here I am at last on the Rhine,—the + blue Rhine, and how disappointed I should be if you were not by my side!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my Gertrude, you must wait till we have passed Cologne, before the + <i>glories</i> of the Rhine burst upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “It reverses life, my child,” said the moralizing Vane; “and the stream + flows through dulness at first, reserving its poetry for our + perseverance.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not allow your doctrine,” said Trevylyan, as the ambitious ardour + of his native disposition stirred within him. “Life has always action; it + is our own fault if it ever be dull: youth has its enterprise, manhood its + schemes; and even if infirmity creep upon age, the mind, the mind still + triumphs over the mortal clay, and in the quiet hermitage, among books, + and from thoughts, keeps the great wheel within everlastingly in motion. + No, the better class of spirits have always an antidote to the insipidity + of a common career, they have ever energy at will—” + </p> + <p> + “And never happiness!” answered Vane, after a pause, as he gazed on the + proud countenance of Trevylyan, with that kind of calm, half-pitying + interest which belonged to a character deeply imbued with the philosophy + of a sad experience acting upon an unimpassioned heart. “And in truth, + Trevylyan, it would please me if I could but teach you the folly of + preferring the exercise of that energy of which you speak to the golden + luxuries of REST. What ambition can ever bring an adequate reward? Not, + surely, the ambition of letters, the desire of intellectual renown!” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Trevylyan, quietly; “that dream I have long renounced; there + is nothing palpable in literary fame,—it scarcely perhaps soothes + the vain, it assuredly chafes the proud. In my earlier years I attempted + some works which gained what the world, perhaps rightly, deemed a + sufficient need of reputation; yet it was not sufficient to recompense + myself for the fresh hours I had consumed, for the sacrifices of pleasure + I had made. The subtle aims that had inspired me were not perceived; the + thoughts that had seemed new and beautiful to me fell flat and lustreless + on the soul of others. If I was approved, it was often for what I + condemned myself; and I found that the trite commonplace and the false wit + charmed, while the truth fatigued, and the enthusiasm revolted. For men of + that genius to which I make no pretension, who have dwelt apart in the + obscurity of their own thoughts, gazing upon stars that shine not for the + dull sleepers of the world, it must be a keen sting to find the product of + their labour confounded with a class, and to be mingled up in men’s + judgment with the faults or merits of a tribe. Every great genius must + deem himself original and alone in his conceptions. It is not enough for + him that these conceptions should be approved as good, unless they are + admitted as inventive, if they mix him with the herd he has shunned, not + separate him in fame as he has been separated in soul. Some Frenchman, the + oracle of his circle, said of the poet of the ‘Phedre,’ ‘Racine and the + other imitators of Corneille;’ and Racine, in his wrath, nearly forswore + tragedy forever. It is in vain to tell the author that the public is the + judge of his works. The author believes himself above the public, or he + would never have written; and,” continued Trevylyan, with enthusiasm, “he + <i>is</i> above them; their fiat may crush his glory, but never his + self-esteem. He stands alone and haughty amidst the wrecks of the temple + he imagined he had raised ‘To THE FUTURE,’ and retaliates neglect with + scorn. But is this, the life of scorn, a pleasurable state of existence? + Is it one to be cherished? Does even the moment of fame counterbalance the + years of mortification? And what is there in literary fame itself present + and palpable to its heir? His work is a pebble thrown into the deep; the + stir lasts for a moment, and the wave closes up, to be susceptible no more + to the same impression. The circle may widen to other lands and other + ages, but around <i>him</i> it is weak and faint. The trifles of the day, + the low politics, the base intrigues, occupy the tongue, and fill the + thought of his contemporaries. He is less known than a mountebank, or a + new dancer; his glory comes not home to him; it brings no present, no + perpetual reward, like the applauses that wait the actor, or the + actor-like murmur of the senate; and this, which vexes, also lowers him; + his noble nature begins to nourish the base vices of jealousy, and the + unwillingness to admire. Goldsmith is forgotten in the presence of a + puppet; he feels it, and is mean; he expresses it, and is ludicrous. It is + well to say that great minds will not stoop to jealousy; in the greatest + minds, it is most frequent.* Few authors are ever so aware of the + admiration they excite as to afford to be generous; and this melancholy + truth revolts us with our own ambition. Shall we be demigods in our + closets at the price of sinking below mortality in the world? No! it was + from this deep sentiment of the unrealness of literary fame, of + dissatisfaction at the fruits it produced, of fear for the meanness it + engendered, that I resigned betimes all love for its career; and if, by + the restless desire that haunts men who think much to write ever, I should + be urged hereafter to literature, I will sternly teach myself to persevere + in the indifference to its fame.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See the long list of names furnished by Disraeli, in that most + exquisite work, “The Literary Character,” vol. ii. p. 75. Plato, + Xenophon, Chaucer, Corneille, Voltaire, Dryden, the Caracci, + Domenico Venetiano, murdered by his envious friend, and the gentle + Castillo fainting away at the genius of Murillo. +</pre> + <p> + “You say as I would say,” answered Vane, with his tranquil smile; “and + your experience corroborates my theory. Ambition, then, is not the root of + happiness. Why more in action than in letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Trevylyan, “in action we commonly gain in our life all the + honour we deserve: the public judge of men better and more rapidly than of + books. And he who takes to himself in action a high and pure ambition, + associates it with so many objects, that, unlike literature, the failure + of one is balanced by the success of the other. He, the creator of deeds, + not resembling the creator of books, stands not alone; he is eminently + social; he has many comrades, and without their aid he could not + accomplish his designs. This divides and mitigates the impatient jealousy + against others. He works for a cause, and knows early that he cannot + monopolize its whole glory; he shares what he is aware it is impossible to + engross. Besides, action leaves him no time for brooding over + disappointment. The author has consumed his youth in a work,—it + fails in glory. Can he write another work? Bid him call back another + youth! But in action, the labour of the mind is from day to day. A week + replaces what a week has lost, and all the aspirant’s fame is of the + present. It is lipped by the Babel of the living world; he is ever on the + stage, and the spectators are ever ready to applaud. Thus perpetually in + the service of others self ceases to be his world; he has no leisure to + brood over real or imaginary wrongs; the excitement whirls on the machine + till it is worn out—” + </p> + <p> + “And kicked aside,” said Vane, “with the broken lumber of men’s other + tools, in the chamber of their son’s forgetfulness. Your man of action + lasts but for an hour; the man of letters lasts for ages.” + </p> + <p> + “We live not for ages,” answered Trevylyan; “our life is on earth, and not + in the grave.” + </p> + <p> + “But even grant,” continued Vane—“and I for one will concede the + point—that posthumous fame is not worth the living agonies that + obtain it, how are you better off in your poor and vulgar career of + action? Would you assist the rulers?—servility! The people?—folly! + If you take the great philosophical view which the worshippers of the past + rarely take, but which, unknown to them, is their sole excuse,—namely, + that the changes which <i>may</i> benefit the future unsettle the present; + and that it is not the wisdom of practical legislation to risk the peace + of our contemporaries in the hope of obtaining happiness for their + posterity,—to what suspicions, to what charges are you exposed! You + are deemed the foe of all liberal opinion, and you read your curses in the + eyes of a nation. But take the side of the people. What caprice, what + ingratitude! You have professed so much in theory, that you can never + accomplish sufficient in practice. Moderation becomes a crime; to be + prudent is to be perfidious. New demagogues, without temperance, because + without principle, outstrip you in the moment of your greatest services. + The public is the grave of a great man’s deeds; it is never sated; its maw + is eternally open; it perpetually craves for more. Where, in the history + of the world, do you find the gratitude of a people? You find fervour, it + is true, but not gratitude,—the fervour that exaggerates a benefit + at one moment, but not the gratitude that remembers it the next year. Once + disappoint them, and all your actions, all your sacrifices, are swept from + their remembrance forever; they break the windows of the very house they + have given you, and melt down their medals into bullets. Who serves man, + ruler or peasant, serves the ungrateful; and all the ambitious are but + types of a Wolsey or a De Witt.” + </p> + <p> + “And what,” said Trevylyan, “consoles a man in the ills that flesh is heir + to, in that state of obscure repose, that serene inactivity to which you + would confine him? Is it not his conscience? Is it not his self-acquittal, + or his self-approval?” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless,” replied Vane. + </p> + <p> + “Be it so,” answered the high-souled Trevylyan; “the same consolation + awaits us in action as in repose. We sedulously pursue what we deem to be + true glory. We are maligned; but our soul acquits us. Could it do more in + the scandal and the prejudice that assail us in private life? You are + silent; but note how much deeper should be the comfort, how much loftier + the self-esteem; for if calumny attack us in a wilful obscurity, what have + we done to refute the calumny? How have we served our species? Have we + ‘scorned delight and loved laborious days’? Have we made the utmost of the + ‘talent’ confided to our care? Have we done those good deeds to our race + upon which we can retire,—an ‘Estate of Beneficence,’—from the + malice of the world, and feel that our deeds are our defenders? This is + the consolation of virtuous actions; is it so of—even a virtuous—indolence?” + </p> + <p> + “You speak as a preacher,” said Vane,—“I merely as a calculator; you + of virtue in affliction, I of a life in ease.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if the consciousness of perpetual endeavour to advance our + race be not alone happier than the life of ease, let us see what this + vaunted ease really is. Tell me, is it not another name for <i>ennui</i>? + This state of quiescence, this objectless, dreamless torpor, this + transition <i>du lit a la table, de la table au lit</i>,—what more + dreary and monotonous existence can you devise? Is it pleasure in this + inglorious existence to think that you are serving pleasure? Is it freedom + to be the slave to self? For I hold,” continued Trevylyan, “that this + jargon of ‘consulting happiness,’ this cant of living for ourselves, is + but a mean as well as a false philosophy. Why this eternal reference to + self? Is self alone to be consulted? Is even our happiness, did it truly + consist in repose, really the great end of life? I doubt if we cannot + ascend higher. I doubt if we cannot say with a great moralist, ‘If virtue + be not estimable in itself, we can see nothing estimable in following it + for the sake of a bargain.’ But, in fact, repose is the poorest of all + delusions; the very act of recurring to self brings about us all those + ills of self from which, in the turmoil of the world, we can escape. We + become hypochondriacs. Our very health grows an object of painful + possession. We are so desirous to be well (for what is retirement without + health?) that we are ever fancying ourselves ill; and, like the man in the + ‘Spectator,’ we weigh ourselves daily, and live but by grains and + scruples. Retirement is happy only for the poet, for to him it is <i>not</i> + retirement. He secedes from one world but to gain another, and he finds + not <i>ennui</i> in seclusion: why? Not because seclusion hath <i>repose</i>, + but because it hath <i>occupation</i>. In one word, then, I say of action + and of indolence, grant the same ills to both, and to action there is the + readier escape or the nobler consolation.” + </p> + <p> + Vane shrugged his shoulders. “Ah, my dear friend,” said he, tapping his + snuff-box with benevolent superiority, “you are much younger than I am!” + </p> + <p> + But these conversations, which Trevylyan and Vane often held together, + dull as I fear this specimen must seem to the reader, had an inexpressible + charm for Gertrude. She loved the lofty and generous vein of philosophy + which Trevylyan embraced, and which, while it suited his ardent nature, + contrasted a demeanour commonly hard and cold to all but herself. And + young and tender as she was, his ambition infused its spirit into her fine + imagination, and that passion for enterprise which belongs inseparably to + romance. She loved to muse over his future lot, and in fancy to share its + toils and to exult in its triumphs. And if sometimes she asked herself + whether a career of action might not estrange him from her, she had but to + turn her gaze upon his watchful eye,—and lo, he was by her side or + at her feet! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. GORCUM.—THE TOUR OF THE VIRTUES: A PHILOSOPHER’S TALE. + </h2> + <p> + IT was a bright and cheery morning as they glided by Gorcum. The boats + pulling to the shore full of fishermen and peasants in their national + costume; the breeze freshly rippling the waters; the lightness of the blue + sky; the loud and laughing voices from the boats,—all contributed to + raise the spirit, and fill it with that indescribable gladness which is + the physical sense of life. + </p> + <p> + The tower of the church, with its long windows and its round dial, rose + against the clear sky; and on a bench under a green bush facing the water + sat a jolly Hollander, refreshing the breezes with the fumes of his + national weed. + </p> + <p> + “How little it requires to make a journey pleasant, when the companions + are our friends!” said Gertrude, as they sailed along. “Nothing can be + duller than these banks, nothing more delightful than this voyage.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet what tries the affections of people for each other so severely as a + journey together?” said Vane. “That perpetual companionship from which + there is no escaping; that confinement, in all our moments of ill-humour + and listlessness, with persons who want us to look amused—ah, it is + a severe ordeal for friendship to pass through! A post-chaise must have + jolted many an intimacy to death.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak feelingly, dear father,” said Gertrude, laughing; “and, I + suspect, with a slight desire to be sarcastic upon us. Yet, seriously, I + should think that travel must be like life, and that good persons must be + always agreeable companions to each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Good persons, my Gertrude!” answered Vane, with a smile. “Alas! I fear + the good weary each other quite as much as the bad. What say you, + Trevylyan,—would Virtue be a pleasant companion from Paris to + Petersburg? Ah, I see you intend to be on Gertrude’s side of the question. + Well now, if I tell you a story, since stories are so much the fashion + with you, in which you shall find that the Virtues themselves actually + made the experiment of a tour, will you promise to attend to the moral?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear father, anything for a story,” cried Gertrude; “especially from + you, who have not told us one all the way. Come, listen, Albert; nay, + listen to your new rival.” + </p> + <p> + And, pleased to see the vivacity of the invalid, Vane began as follows:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE TOUR OF THE VIRTUES: + + A PHILOSOPHER’S TALE. +</pre> + <p> + ONCE upon a time, several of the Virtues, weary of living forever with the + Bishop of Norwich, resolved to make a little excursion; accordingly, + though they knew everything on earth was very ill prepared to receive + them, they thought they might safely venture on a tour from Westminster + Bridge to Richmond. The day was fine, the wind in their favour, and as to + entertainment,—why, there seemed, according to Gertrude, to be no + possibility of any disagreement among the Virtues. + </p> + <p> + They took a boat at Westminster stairs; and just as they were about to + push off, a poor woman, all in rags, with a child in her arms, implored + their compassion. Charity put her hand into her reticule and took out a + shilling. Justice, turning round to look after the luggage, saw the folly + which Charity was about to commit. “Heavens!” cried Justice, seizing poor + Charity by the arm, “what are you doing? Have you never read Political + Economy? Don’t you know that indiscriminate almsgiving is only the + encouragement to Idleness, the mother of Vice? You a Virtue, indeed! I’m + ashamed of you. Get along with you, good woman;—yet stay, there is a + ticket for soup at the Mendicity Society; they’ll see if you’re a proper + object of compassion.” But Charity is quicker than Justice, and slipping + her hand behind her, the poor woman got the shilling and the ticket for + soup too. Economy and Generosity saw the double gift. “What waste!” cried + Economy, frowning; “what! a ticket and a shilling? <i>either</i> would + have sufficed.” + </p> + <p> + “Either!” said Generosity, “fie! Charity should have given the poor + creature half-a-crown, and Justice a dozen tickets!” So the next ten + minutes were consumed in a quarrel between the four Virtues, which would + have lasted all the way to Richmond, if Courage had not advised them to + get on shore and fight it out. Upon this, the Virtues suddenly perceived + they had a little forgotten themselves, and Generosity offering the first + apology, they made it up, and went on very agreeably for the next mile or + two. + </p> + <p> + The day now grew a little overcast, and a shower seemed at hand. Prudence, + who had on a new bonnet, suggested the propriety of putting to shore for + half an hour; Courage was for braving the rain; but, as most of the + Virtues are ladies, Prudence carried it. Just as they were about to land, + another boat cut in before them very uncivilly, and gave theirs such a + shake that Charity was all but overboard. The company on board the uncivil + boat, who evidently thought the Virtues extremely low persons, for they + had nothing very fashionable about their exterior, burst out laughing at + Charity’s discomposure, especially as a large basket full of buns, which + Charity carried with her for any hungry-looking children she might + encounter at Richmond, fell pounce into the water. Courage was all on + fire; he twisted his mustache, and would have made an onset on the enemy, + if, to his great indignation, Meekness had not forestalled him, by + stepping mildly into the hostile boat and offering both cheeks to the foe. + This was too much even for the incivility of the boatmen; they made their + excuses to the Virtues, and Courage, who is no bully, thought himself + bound discontentedly to accept them. But oh! if you had seen how Courage + used Meekness afterwards, you could not have believed it possible that one + Virtue could be so enraged with another. This quarrel between the two + threw a damp on the party; and they proceeded on their voyage, when the + shower was over, with anything but cordiality. I spare you the little + squabbles that took place in the general conversation,—how Economy + found fault with all the villas by the way, and Temperance expressed + becoming indignation at the luxuries of the City barge. They arrived at + Richmond, and Temperance was appointed to order the dinner; meanwhile + Hospitality, walking in the garden, fell in with a large party of + Irishmen, and asked them to join the repast. + </p> + <p> + Imagine the long faces of Economy and Prudence, when they saw the addition + to the company! Hospitality was all spirits; he rubbed his hands and + called for champagne with the tone of a younger brother. Temperance soon + grew scandalized, and Modesty herself coloured at some of the jokes; but + Hospitality, who was now half seas over, called the one a milksop, and + swore at the other as a prude. Away went the hours; it was time to return, + and they made down to the water-side, thoroughly out of temper with one + another, Economy and Generosity quarrelling all the way about the bill and + the waiters. To make up the sum of their mortification, they passed a boat + where all the company were in the best possible spirits, laughing and + whooping like mad; and discovered these jolly companions to be two or + three agreeable Vices, who had put themselves under the management of Good + Temper. + </p> + <p> + “So you see, Gertrude, that even the Virtues may fall at loggerheads with + each other, and pass a very sad time of it, if they happen to be of + opposite dispositions, and have forgotten to take Good Temper with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Gertrude, “but you have overloaded your boat; too many Virtues + might contradict one another, but not a few.” + </p> + <p> + “Voila ce que veux dire,” said Vane; “but listen to the sequel of my tale, + which now takes a new moral.” + </p> + <p> + At the end of the voyage, and after a long, sulky silence, Prudence said, + with a thoughtful air, “My dear friends, I have been thinking that as long + as we keep so entirely together, never mixing with the rest of the world, + we shall waste our lives in quarrelling amongst ourselves and run the risk + of being still less liked and sought after than we already are. You know + that we are none of us popular; every one is quite contented to see us + represented in a vaudeville, or described in an essay. Charity, indeed, + has her name often taken in vain at a bazaar or a subscription; and the + miser as often talks of the duty he owes to <i>me</i>, when he sends the + stranger from his door or his grandson to jail: but still we only resemble + so many wild beasts, whom everybody likes to see but nobody cares to + possess. Now, I propose that we should all separate and take up our abode + with some mortal or other for a year, with the power of changing at the + end of that time should we not feel ourselves comfortable,—that is, + should we not find that we do all the good we intend; let us try the + experiment, and on this day twelvemonths let us all meet under the largest + oak in Windsor Forest, and recount what has befallen us.” Prudence ceased, + as she always does when she has said enough; and, delighted at the + project, the Virtues agreed to adopt it on the spot. They were enchanted + at the idea of setting up for themselves, and each not doubting his or her + success,—for Economy in her heart thought Generosity no Virtue at + all, and Meekness looked on Courage as little better than a heathen. + </p> + <p> + Generosity, being the most eager and active of all the Virtues, set off + first on his journey. Justice followed, and kept up with him, though at a + more even pace. Charity never heard a sigh, or saw a squalid face, but she + stayed to cheer and console the sufferer,—a kindness which somewhat + retarded her progress. + </p> + <p> + Courage espied a travelling carriage, with a man and his wife in it + quarrelling most conjugally, and he civilly begged he might be permitted + to occupy the vacant seat opposite the lady. Economy still lingered, + inquiring for the cheapest inns. Poor Modesty looked round and sighed, on + finding herself so near to London, where she was almost wholly unknown; + but resolved to bend her course thither for two reasons: first, for the + novelty of the thing; and, secondly, not liking to expose herself to any + risks by a journey on the Continent. Prudence, though the first to + project, was the last to execute; and therefore resolved to remain where + she was for that night, and take daylight for her travels. + </p> + <p> + The year rolled on, and the Virtues, punctual to the appointment, met + under the oak-tree; they all came nearly at the same time, excepting + Economy, who had got into a return post-chaise, the horses to which, + having been forty miles in the course of the morning, had foundered by the + way, and retarded her journey till night set in. The Virtues looked sad + and sorrowful, as people are wont to do after a long and fruitless + journey; and, somehow or other, such was the wearing effect of their + intercourse with the world, that they appeared wonderfully diminished in + size. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear Generosity,” said Prudence, with a sigh, “as you were the + first to set out on your travels, pray let us hear your adventures first.” + </p> + <p> + “You must know, my dear sisters,” said Generosity, “that I had not gone + many miles from you before I came to a small country town, in which a + marching regiment was quartered, and at an open window I beheld, leaning + over a gentleman’s chair, the most beautiful creature imagination ever + pictured; her eyes shone out like two suns of perfect happiness, and she + was almost cheerful enough to have passed for Good Temper herself. The + gentleman over whose chair she leaned was her husband; they had been + married six weeks; he was a lieutenant with one hundred pounds a year + besides his pay. Greatly affected by their poverty, I instantly + determined, without a second thought, to ensconce myself in the heart of + this charming girl. During the first hour in my new residence I made many + wise reflections such as—that Love never was so perfect as when + accompanied by Poverty; what a vulgar error it was to call the unmarried + state ‘Single <i>Blessedness</i>;’ how wrong it was of us Virtues never to + have tried the marriage bond; and what a falsehood it was to say that + husbands neglected their wives, for never was there anything in nature so + devoted as the love of a husband—six weeks married! + </p> + <p> + “The next morning, before breakfast, as the charming Fanny was waiting for + her husband, who had not yet finished his toilet, a poor, wretched-looking + object appeared at the window, tearing her hair and wringing her hands; + her husband had that morning been dragged to prison, and her seven + children had fought for the last mouldy crust. Prompted by me, Fanny, + without inquiring further into the matter, drew from her silken purse a + five-pound note, and gave it to the beggar, who departed more amazed than + grateful. Soon after, the lieutenant appeared. ‘What the devil, another + bill!’ muttered he, as he tore the yellow wafer from a large, square, + folded, bluish piece of paper. ‘Oh, ah! confound the fellow, <i>he</i> + must be paid. I must trouble you, Fanny, for fifteen pounds to pay this + saddler’s bill.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Fifteen pounds, love?’ stammered Fanny, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, dearest, the fifteen pounds I gave you yesterday.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I have only ten pounds,’ said Fanny, hesitatingly; ‘for such a poor, + wretched-looking creature was here just now, that I was obliged to give + her five pounds.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Five pounds? good Heavens!’ exclaimed the astonished husband; ‘I shall + have no more money this three weeks.’ He frowned, he bit his lips, nay, he + even wrung his hands, and walked up and down the room; worse still, he + broke forth with—‘Surely, madam, you did not suppose, when you + married a lieutenant in a marching regiment, that he could afford to + indulge in the whim of giving five pounds to every mendicant who held out + her hand to you? You did not, I say, madam, imagine’—but the + bridegroom was interrupted by the convulsive sobs of his wife: it was + their first quarrel, they were but six weeks married; he looked at her for + one moment sternly, the next he was at her feet. ‘Forgive me, dearest + Fanny,—forgive me, for I cannot forgive myself. I was too great a + wretch to say what I did; and do believe, my own Fanny, that while I may + be too poor to indulge you in it, I do from my heart admire so noble, so + disinterested, a generosity.’ Not a little proud did I feel to have been + the cause of this exemplary husband’s admiration for his amiable wife, and + sincerely did I rejoice at having taken up my abode with these <i>poor</i> + people. But not to tire you, my dear sisters, with the minutiae of detail, + I shall briefly say that things did not long remain in this delightful + position; for before many months had elapsed, poor Fanny had to bear with + her husband’s increased and more frequent storms of passion, unfollowed by + any halcyon and honeymoon suings for forgiveness: for at my instigation + every shilling went; and when there were no more to go, her trinkets and + even her clothes followed. The lieutenant became a complete brute, and + even allowed his unbridled tongue to call me—me, sisters, <i>me</i>!—‘heartless + Extravagance.’ His despicable brother-officers and their gossiping wives + were no better; for they did nothing but animadvert upon my Fanny’s + ostentation and absurdity, for by such names had they the impertinence to + call <i>me</i>. Thus grieved to the soul to find myself the cause of all + poor Fanny’s misfortunes, I resolved at the end of the year to leave her, + being thoroughly convinced that, however amiable and praiseworthy I might + be in myself, I was totally unfit to be bosom friend and adviser to the + wife of a lieutenant in a marching regiment, with only one hundred pounds + a year besides his pay.” + </p> + <p> + The Virtues groaned their sympathy with the unfortunate Fanny; and + Prudence, turning to Justice, said, “I long to hear what you have been + doing, for I am certain you cannot have occasioned harm to any one.” + </p> + <p> + Justice shook her head and said: “Alas! I find that there are times and + places when even I do better not to appear, as a short account of my + adventures will prove to you. No sooner had I left you than I instantly + repaired to India, and took up my abode with a Brahmin. I was much shocked + by the dreadful inequalities of condition that reigned in the several + castes, and I longed to relieve the poor Pariah from his ignominious + destiny; accordingly I set seriously to work on reform. I insisted upon + the iniquity of abandoning men from their birth to an irremediable state + of contempt, from which no virtue could exalt them. The Brahmins looked + upon my Brahmin with ineffable horror. They called <i>me</i> the most + wicked of vices; they saw no distinction between Justice and Atheism. I + uprooted their society—that was sufficient crime. But the worst was, + that the Pariahs themselves regarded me with suspicion; they thought it + unnatural in a Brahmin to care for a Pariah! And one called me ‘Madness,’ + another, ‘Ambition,’ and a third, ‘The Desire to innovate.’ My poor + Brahmin led a miserable life of it; when one day, after observing, at my + dictation, that he thought a Pariah’s life as much entitled to respect as + a cow’s, he was hurried away by the priests and secretly broiled on the + altar as a fitting reward for his sacrilege. I fled hither in great + tribulation, persuaded that in some countries even Justice may do harm.” + </p> + <p> + “As for me,” said Charity, not waiting to be asked, “I grieve to say that + I was silly enough to take up my abode with an old lady in Dublin, who + never knew what discretion was, and always acted from impulse; my + instigation was irresistible, and the money she gave in her drives through + the suburbs of Dublin was so lavishly spent that it kept all the rascals + of the city in idleness and whiskey. I found, to my great horror, that I + was a main cause of a terrible epidemic, and that to give alms without + discretion was to spread poverty without help. I left the city when my + year was out, and as ill-luck would have it, just at the time when I was + most wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “And oh,” cried Hospitality, “I went to Ireland also. I fixed my abode + with a squireen; I ruined him in a year, and only left him because he had + no longer a hovel to keep me in.” + </p> + <p> + “As for myself,” said Temperance, “I entered the breast of an English + legislator, and he brought in a bill against ale-houses; the consequence + was, that the labourers took to gin; and I have been forced to confess + that Temperance may be too zealous when she dictates too vehemently to + others.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Courage, keeping more in the background than he had ever done + before, and looking rather ashamed of himself, “that travelling carriage I + got into belonged to a German general and his wife, who were returning to + their own country. Growing very cold as we proceeded, she wrapped me up in + a polonaise; but the cold increasing, I inadvertently crept into her + bosom. Once there I could not get out, and from thenceforward the poor + general had considerably the worst of it. She became so provoking that I + wondered how he could refrain from an explosion. To do him justice, he did + at last threaten to get out of the carriage; upon which, roused by me, she + collared him—and conquered. When he got to his own district, things + grew worse, for if any <i>aide-de-camp</i> offended her she insisted that + he might be publicly reprimanded; and should the poor general refuse she + would with her own hands confer a caning upon the delinquent. The + additional force she had gained in me was too much odds against the poor + general, and he died of a broken heart, six months after my <i>liaison</i> + with his wife. She after this became so dreaded and detested, that a + conspiracy was formed to poison her; this daunted even me, so I left her + without delay,—<i>et me voici</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Humph,” said Meekness, with an air of triumph, “I, at least, have been + more successful than you. On seeing much in the papers of the cruelties + practised by the Turks on the Greeks, I thought my presence would enable + the poor sufferers to bear their misfortunes calmly. I went to Greece, + then, at a moment when a well-planned and practicable scheme of + emancipating themselves from the Turkish yoke was arousing their youth. + Without confining myself to one individual, I flitted from breast to + breast; I meekened the whole nation; my remonstrances against the + insurrection succeeded, and I had the satisfaction of leaving a whole + people ready to be killed or strangled with the most Christian resignation + in the world.” + </p> + <p> + The Virtues, who had been a little cheered by the opening self-complacence + of Meekness, would not, to her great astonishment, allow that she had + succeeded a whit more happily than her sisters, and called next upon + Modesty for her confession. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” said that amiable young lady, “that I went to London in search + of a situation. I spent three months of the twelve in going from house to + house, but I could not get a single person to receive me. The ladies + declared that they never saw so old-fashioned a gawkey, and civilly + recommended me to their abigails; the abigails turned me round with a + stare, and then pushed me down to the kitchen and the fat scullion-maids, + who assured me that, ‘in the respectable families they had the honour to + live in, they had never even heard of my name.’ One young housemaid, just + from the country, did indeed receive me with some sort of civility; but + she very soon lost me in the servants’ hall. I now took refuge with the + other sex, as the least uncourteous. I was fortunate enough to find a + young gentleman of remarkable talents, who welcomed me with open arms. He + was full of learning, gentleness, and honesty. I had only one rival,—Ambition. + We both contended for an absolute empire over him. Whatever Ambition + suggested, I damped. Did Ambition urge him to begin a book, I persuaded + him it was not worth publication. Did he get up, full of knowledge, and + instigated by my rival, to make a speech (for he was in parliament), I + shocked him with the sense of his assurance, I made his voice droop and + his accents falter. At last, with an indignant sigh, my rival left him; he + retired into the country, took orders, and renounced a career he had + fondly hoped would be serviceable to others; but finding I did not suffice + for his happiness, and piqued at his melancholy, I left him before the end + of the year, and he has since taken to drinking!” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the Virtues were all turned to Prudence. She was their last + hope. “I am just where I set out,” said that discreet Virtue; “I have done + neither good nor harm. To avoid temptation I went and lived with a hermit + to whom I soon found that I could be of no use beyond warning him not to + overboil his peas and lentils, not to leave his door open when a storm + threatened, and not to fill his pitcher too full at the neighbouring + spring. I am thus the only one of you that never did harm; but only + because I am the only one of you that never had an opportunity of doing + it! In a word,” continued Prudence, thoughtfully,—“in a word, my + friends, circumstances are necessary to the Virtues themselves. Had, for + instance, Economy changed with Generosity, and gone to the poor + lieutenant’s wife, and had I lodged with the Irish squireen instead of + Hospitality, what misfortunes would have been saved to both! Alas! I + perceive we lose all our efficacy when we are misplaced; and <i>then</i>, + though in reality Virtues, we operate as Vices. Circumstances must be + favourable to our exertions, and harmonious with our nature; and we lose + our very divinity unless Wisdom direct our footsteps to the home we should + inhabit and the dispositions we should govern.” + </p> + <p> + The story was ended, and the travellers began to dispute about its moral. + Here let us leave them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. COLOGNE.—THE TRACES OF THE ROMAN YOKE.—THE CHURCH + OF ST. + </h2> + <p> + MARIA.—TREVYLYAN’S REFLECTIONS ON THE MONASTIC LIFE.—THE TOMB + OF THE THREE KINGS.—AN EVENING EXCURSION ON THE RHINE. + </p> + <p> + ROME—magnificent Rome! wherever the pilgrim wends, the traces of thy + dominion greet his eyes. Still in the heart of the bold German race is + graven the print of the eagle’s claws; and amidst the haunted regions of + the Rhine we pause to wonder at the great monuments of the Italian yoke. + </p> + <p> + At Cologne our travellers rested for some days. They were in the city to + which the camp of Marcus Agrippa had given birth; that spot had resounded + with the armed tread of the legions of Trajan. In that city, Vitellius, + Sylvanus, were proclaimed emperors. By that church did the latter receive + his death. + </p> + <p> + As they passed round the door they saw some peasants loitering on the + sacred ground; and when they noted the delicate cheek of Gertrude they + uttered their salutations with more than common respect. Where they then + were the building swept round in a circular form; and at its base it is + supposed by tradition to retain something of the ancient Roman masonry. + Just before them rose the spire of a plain and unadorned church, + singularly contrasting the pomp of the old with the simplicity of the + innovating creed. + </p> + <p> + The church of St. Maria occupies the site of the Roman Capitol, and the + place retains the Roman name; and still something in the aspect of the + people betrays the hereditary blood. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, whose nature was strongly impressed with <i>the venerating + character</i>, was fond of visiting the old Gothic churches, which, with + so eloquent a moral, unite the living with the dead. + </p> + <p> + “Pause for a moment,” said Trevylyan, before they entered the church of + St. Maria. “What recollections crowd upon us! On the site of the Roman + Capitol a Christian church and a convent are erected! By whom? The mother + of Charles Martel,—the Conqueror of the Saracen, the arch-hero of + Christendom itself! And to these scenes and calm retreats, to the + cloisters of the convent once belonging to this church, fled the bruised + spirit of a royal sufferer,-the victim of Richelieu,—the unfortunate + and ambitious Mary de Medicis. Alas! the cell and the convent are but a + vain emblem of that desire to fly to God which belongs to Distress; the + solitude soothes, but the monotony recalls, regret. And for my own part in + my frequent tours through Catholic countries, I never saw the still walls + in which monastic vanity hoped to shut out the world, but a melancholy + came over me! What hearts at war with themselves! what unceasing regrets! + what pinings after the past! what long and beautiful years devoted to a + moral grave, by a momentary rashness, an impulse, a disappointment! But in + these churches the lesson is more impressive and less sad. The weary heart + has ceased to ache; the burning pulses are still; the troubled spirit has + flown to the only rest which is not a deceit. Power and love, hope and + fear, avarice, ambition,—they are quenched at last! Death is the + only monastery, the tomb is the only cell.” + </p> + <p> + “Your passion is ever for active life,” said Gertrude. “You allow no charm + to solitude, and contemplation to you seems torture. If any great sorrow + ever come upon you, you will never retire to seclusion as its balm. You + will plunge into the world, and lose your individual existence in the + universal rush of life.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, talk not of sorrow!” said Trevylyan, wildly. “Let us enter the + church.” + </p> + <p> + They went afterwards to the celebrated cathedral, which is considered one + of the noblest of the architectural triumphs of Germany; but it is yet + more worthy of notice from the Pilgrim of Romance than the searcher after + antiquity, for here, behind the grand altar, is the Tomb of the Three + Kings of Cologne,—the three worshippers whom tradition humbled to + our Saviour. Legend is rife with a thousand tales of the relics of this + tomb. The Three Kings of Cologne are the tutelary names of that golden + superstition which has often more votaries than the religion itself from + which it springs and to Gertrude the simple story of Lucille sufficed to + make her for the moment credulous of the sanctity of the spot. Behind the + tomb three Gothic windows cast their “dim, religious light” over the + tessellated pavement and along the Ionic pillars. They found some of the + more credulous believers in the authenticity of the relics kneeling before + the tomb, and they arrested their steps, fearful to disturb the + superstition which is never without something of sanctity when contented + with prayer and forgetful of persecution. The bones of the Magi are still + supposed to consecrate the tomb, and on the higher part of the monument + the artist has delineated their adoration to the infant Saviour. + </p> + <p> + That evening came on with a still and tranquil beauty, and as the sun + hastened to its close they launched their boat for an hour or two’s + excursion upon the Rhine. Gertrude was in that happy mood when the quiet + of nature is enjoyed like a bath for the soul, and the presence of him she + so idolized deepened that stillness into a more delicious and subduing + calm. Little did she dream as the boat glided over the water, and the + towers of Cologne rose in the blue air of evening, how few were those + hours that divided her from the tomb! But, in looking back to the life of + one we have loved, how dear is the thought that the latter days were the + days of light, that the cloud never chilled the beauty of the setting sun, + and that if the years of existence were brief, all that existence has most + tender, most sacred, was crowded into that space! Nothing dark, then, or + bitter, rests with our remembrance of the lost: <i>we</i> are the + mourners, but pity is not for the mourned,—our grief is purely + selfish; when we turn to its object, the hues of happiness are round it, + and that very love which is the parent of our woe was the consolation, the + triumph, of the departed! + </p> + <p> + The majestic Rhine was calm as a lake; the splashing of the oar only broke + the stillness, and after a long pause in their conversation, Gertrude, + putting her hand on Trevylyan’s arm, reminded him of a promised story: for + he too had moods of abstraction, from which, in her turn, she loved to + lure him; and his voice to her had become a sort of want. + </p> + <p> + “Let it be,” said she, “a tale suited to the hour; no fierce tradition,—nay, + no grotesque fable, but of the tenderer dye of superstition. Let it be of + love, of woman’s love,—of the love that defies the grave: for surely + even after death it lives; and heaven would scarcely be heaven if memory + were banished from its blessings.” + </p> + <p> + “I recollect,” said Trevylyan, after a slight pause, “a short German + legend, the simplicity of which touched me much when I heard it; but,” + added he, with a slight smile, “so much more faithful appears in the + legend the love of the woman than that of the man, that <i>I</i> at least + ought scarcely to recite it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said Gertrude, tenderly, “the fault of the inconstant only + heightens our gratitude to the faithful.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE SOUL IN PURGATORY; OR LOVE STRONGER THAN DEATH. + </h2> + <p> + THE angels strung their harps in heaven, and their music went up like a + stream of odours to the pavilions of the Most High; but the harp of + Seralim was sweeter than that of his fellows, and the Voice of the + Invisible One (for the angels themselves know not the glories of Jehovah—only + far in the depths of heaven they see one Unsleeping Eye watching forever + over Creation) was heard saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Ask a gift for the love that burns in thy song, and it shall be given + thee.” And Seralim answered,— + </p> + <p> + “There is in that place which men call Purgatory, and which is the escape + from hell, but the painful porch of heaven, many souls that adore Thee, + and yet are punished justly for their sins; grant me the boon to visit + them at times, and solace their suffering by the hymns of the harp that is + consecrated to Thee!” + </p> + <p> + And the Voice answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Thy prayer is heard, O gentlest of the angels! and it seems good to Him + who chastises but from love. Go! Thou hast thy will.” + </p> + <p> + Then the angel sang the praises of God; and when the song was done he rose + from his azure throne at the right hand of Gabriel, and, spreading his + rainbow wings, he flew to that melancholy orb which, nearest to earth, + echoes with the shrieks of souls that by torture become pure. There the + unhappy ones see from afar the bright courts they are hereafter to obtain, + and the shapes of glorious beings, who, fresh from these Fountains of + Immortality, walk amidst the gardens of Paradise, and feel that their + happiness hath no morrow; and this thought consoles amidst their torments, + and makes the true difference between Purgatory and Hell. + </p> + <p> + Then the angel folded his wings, and entering the crystal gates, sat down + upon a blasted rock and struck his divine lyre, and a peace fell over the + wretched; the demon ceased to torture and the victim to wail. As sleep to + the mourners of earth was the song of the angel to the souls of the + purifying star: one only voice amidst the general stillness seemed not + lulled by the angel; it was the voice of a woman, and it continued to cry + out with a sharp cry,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Adenheim, Adenheim! mourn not for the lost!” + </p> + <p> + The angel struck chord after chord, till his most skilful melodies were + exhausted; but still the solitary voice, unheeding—unconscious of—the + sweetest harp of the angel choir, cried out,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Adenheim, Adenheim! mourn not for the lost!” + </p> + <p> + Then Seralim’s interest was aroused, and approaching the spot whence the + voice came, he saw the spirit of a young and beautiful girl chained to a + rock, and the demons lying idly by. And Seralim said to the demons, “Doth + the song lull ye thus to rest?” + </p> + <p> + And they answered, “Her care for another is bitterer than all our + torments; therefore are we idle.” + </p> + <p> + Then the angel approached the spirit, and said in a voice which stilled + her cry—for in what state do we outlive sympathy?—“Wherefore, + O daughter of earth, wherefore wailest thou with the same plaintive wail; + and why doth the harp that soothes the most guilty of thy companions fail + in its melody with thee?” + </p> + <p> + “O radiant stranger,” answered the poor spirit, “thou speakest to one who + on earth loved God’s creature more than God; therefore is she thus justly + sentenced. But I know that my poor Adenheim mourns ceaselessly for me, and + the thought of his sorrow is more intolerable to me than all that the + demons can inflict.” + </p> + <p> + “And how knowest thou that he laments thee?” asked the angel. + </p> + <p> + “Because I know with what agony I should have mourned for <i>him</i>,” + replied the spirit, simply. + </p> + <p> + The divine nature of the angel was touched; for love is the nature of the + sons of heaven. “And how,” said he, “can I minister to thy sorrow?” + </p> + <p> + A transport seemed to agitate the spirit, and she lifted up her mistlike + and impalpable arms, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Give me—oh, give me to return to earth, but for one little hour, + that I may visit my Adenheim; and that, concealing from him my present + sufferings, I may comfort him in his own.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said the angel, turning away his eyes,—for angels may not + weep in the sight of others,—“I could, indeed, grant thee this boon, + but thou knowest not the penalty. For the souls in Purgatory may return to + Earth, but heavy is the sentence that awaits their return. In a word, for + one hour on earth thou must add a thousand years to the torture of thy + confinement here!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” cried the spirit. “Willingly then will I brave the doom. + Ah, surely they love not in heaven, or thou wouldst know, O Celestial + Visitant; that one hour of consolation to the one we love is worth a + thousand ages of torture to ourselves! Let me comfort and convince my + Adenheim; no matter what becomes of me.” + </p> + <p> + Then the angel looked on high, and he saw in far distant regions, which in + that orb none else could discern, the rays that parted from the + all-guarding Eye; and heard the VOICE of the Eternal One bidding him act + as his pity whispered. He looked on the spirit, and her shadowy arms + stretched pleadingly towards him; he uttered the word that loosens the + bars of the gate of Purgatory; and lo, the spirit had re-entered the human + world. + </p> + <p> + It was night in the halls of the lord of Adenheim, and he sat at the head + of his glittering board. Loud and long was the laugh, and merry the jest + that echoed round; and the laugh and the jest of the lord of Adenheim were + louder and merrier than all. And by his right side sat a beautiful lady; + and ever and anon he turned from others to whisper soft vows in her ear. + </p> + <p> + “And oh,” said the bright dame of Falkenberg, “thy words what ladye can + believe? Didst thou not utter the same oaths, and promise the same love, + to Ida, the fair daughter of Loden, and now but three little months have + closed upon her grave?” + </p> + <p> + “By my halidom,” quoth the young lord of Adenheim, “thou dost thy beauty + marvellous injustice. Ida! Nay, thou mockest me; <i>I</i> love the + daughter of Loden! Why, how then should I be worthy thee? A few gay words, + a few passing smiles,—behold all the love Adenheim ever bore to Ida. + Was it my fault if the poor fool misconstrued such common courtesy? Nay, + dearest lady, this heart is virgin to thee.” + </p> + <p> + “And what!” said the lady of Falkenberg, as she suffered the arm of + Adenheim to encircle her slender waist, “didst thou not grieve for her + loss?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, verily, yes, for the first week; but in thy bright eyes I found + ready consolation.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the lord of Adenheim thought he heard a deep sigh behind + him; he turned, but saw nothing, save a slight mist that gradually faded + away, and vanished in the distance. Where was the necessity for Ida to + reveal herself? + </p> + <p> + ....... + </p> + <p> + “And thou didst not, then, do thine errand to thy lover?” said Seralim, as + the spirit of the wronged Ida returned to Purgatory. + </p> + <p> + “Bid the demons recommence their torture,” was poor Ida’s answer. + </p> + <p> + “And was it for this that thou added a thousand years to thy doom?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” answered Ida, “after the single hour I have endured on Earth, + there seems to be but little terrible in a thousand fresh years of + Purgatory!”* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This story is principally borrowed from a foreign soil. It + seemed to the author worthy of being transferred to an English + one, although he fears that much of its singular beauty in the + original has been lost by the way. +</pre> + <p> + “What! is the story ended?” asked Gertrude. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, surely the thousand years were not added to poor Ida’s doom; and + Seralim bore her back with him to Heaven?” + </p> + <p> + “The legend saith no more. The writer was contented to show us the + perpetuity of woman’s love—” + </p> + <p> + “And its reward,” added Vane. + </p> + <p> + “It was not <i>I</i> who drew that last conclusion, Albert,” whispered + Gertrude. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE SCENERY OF THE RHINE ANALOGOUS TO THE GERMAN LITERARY + </h2> + <p> + GENIUS.—THE DRACHENFELS. + </p> + <p> + ON leaving Cologne, the stream winds round among banks that do not yet + fulfil the promise of the Rhine; but they increase in interest as you + leave Surdt and Godorf. The peculiar character of the river does not, + however, really appear, until by degrees the Seven Mountains, and “THE + CASTLED CRAG OF DRACHENFELS” above them all, break upon the eye. Around + Nieder Cassel and Rheidt the vines lie thick and clustering; and, by the + shore, you see from place to place the islands stretching their green + length along, and breaking the exulting tide. Village rises upon village, + and viewed from the distance as you sail, the pastoral errors that + enamoured us of the village life crowd thick and fast upon us. So still do + these hamlets seem, so sheltered from the passions of the world,—as + if the passions were not like winds, only felt where they breathe, and + invisible save by their effects! Leaping into the broad bosom of the Rhine + come many a stream and rivulet upon either side. Spire upon spire rises + and sinks as you sail on. Mountain and city, the solitary island, the + castled steep, like the dreams of ambition, suddenly appear, proudly + swell, and dimly fade away. + </p> + <p> + “You begin now,” said Trevylyan, “to understand the character of the + German literature. The Rhine is an emblem of its luxuriance, its + fertility, its romance. The best commentary to the German genius is a + visit to the German scenery. The mighty gloom of the Hartz, the feudal + towers that look over vines and deep valleys on the legendary Rhine; the + gigantic remains of antique power, profusely scattered over plain, mount, + and forest; the thousand mixed recollections that hallow the ground; the + stately Roman, the stalwart Goth, the chivalry of the feudal age, and the + dim brotherhood of the ideal world, have here alike their record and their + remembrance. And over such scenes wanders the young German student. + Instead of the pomp and luxury of the English traveller, the thousand + devices to cheat the way, he has but his volume in his hand, his knapsack + at his back. From such scenes he draws and hives all that various store + which after years ripen to invention. Hence the florid mixture of the + German muse,—the classic, the romantic, the contemplative, the + philosophic, and the superstitious; each the result of actual meditation + over different scenes; each the produce of separate but confused + recollections. As the Rhine flows, so flows the national genius, by + mountain and valley, the wildest solitude, the sudden spires of ancient + cities, the mouldered castle, the stately monastery, the humble cot,—grandeur + and homeliness, history and superstition, truth and fable, succeeding one + another so as to blend into a whole. + </p> + <p> + “But,” added Trevylyan, a moment afterwards, “the Ideal is passing slowly + away from the German mind; a spirit for the more active and the more + material literature is springing up amongst them. The revolution of mind + gathers on, preceding stormy events; and the memories that led their + grandsires to contemplate will urge the youth of the next generation to + dare and to act.” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Is not this prediction already fulfilled?—1849. +</pre> + <p> + Thus conversing, they continued their voyage, with a fair wave and beneath + a lucid sky. + </p> + <p> + The vessel now glided beside the Seven Mountains and the Drachenfels. + </p> + <p> + The sun, slowly setting, cast his yellow beams over the smooth waters. At + the foot of the mountains lay a village deeply sequestered in shade; and + above, the Ruin of the Drachenfels caught the richest beams of the sun. + Yet thus alone, though lofty, the ray cheered not the gloom that hung over + the giant rock: it stood on high, like some great name on which the light + of glory may shine, but which is associated with a certain melancholy, + from the solitude to which its very height above the level of the herd + condemned its owner! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE LEGEND OF ROLAND.—THE ADVENTURES OF NYMPHALIN ON THE + </h2> + <p> + ISLAND OF NONNEWERTH.—HER SONG.—THE DECAY OF THE FAIRY-FAITH + IN ENGLAND. + </p> + <p> + ON the shore opposite the Drachenfels stand the Ruins of Rolandseck,—they + are the shattered crown of a lofty and perpendicular mountain, consecrated + to the memory of the brave Roland; below, the trees of an island to which + the lady of Roland retired, rise thick and verdant from the smooth tide. + </p> + <p> + Nothing can exceed the eloquent and wild grandeur of the whole scene. That + spot is the pride and beauty of the Rhine. + </p> + <p> + The legend that consecrates the tower and the island is briefly told; it + belongs to a class so common to the Romaunts of Germany. Roland goes to + the wars. A false report of his death reaches his betrothed. She retires + to the convent in the isle of Nonnewerth, and takes the irrevocable veil. + Roland returns home, flushed with glory and hope, to find that the very + fidelity of his affianced had placed an eternal barrier between them. He + built the castle that bears his name, and which overlooks the monastery, + and dwelt there till his death,—happy in the power at least to gaze, + even to the last, upon those walls which held the treasure he had lost. + </p> + <p> + The willows droop in mournful luxuriance along the island, and harmonize + with the memory that, through the desert of a thousand years, love still + keeps green and fresh. Nor hath it permitted even those additions of + fiction which, like mosses, gather by time over the truth that they adorn, + yet adorning conceal, to mar the simple tenderness of the legend. + </p> + <p> + All was still in the island of Nonnewerth; the lights shone through the + trees from the house that contained our travellers. On one smooth spot + where the islet shelves into the Rhine met the wandering fairies. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pipalee! how beautiful!” cried Nymphalin, as she stood enraptured by + the wave, a star-beam shining on her, with her yellow hair “dancing its + ringlets in the whistling wind.” “For the first time since our departure I + do not miss the green fields of England.” + </p> + <p> + “Hist!” said Pipalee, under her breath; “I hear fairy steps,—they + must be the steps of strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us retreat into this thicket of weeds,” said Nymphalin, somewhat + alarmed; “the good lord treasurer is already asleep there.” They whisked + into what to them was a forest, for the reeds were two feet high, and + there sure enough they found the lord treasurer stretched beneath a + bulrush, with his pipe beside him, for since he had been in Germany he had + taken to smoking; and indeed wild thyme, properly dried, makes very good + tobacco for a fairy. They also found Nip and Trip sitting very close + together, Nip playing with her hair, which was exceedingly beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “What do you do here?” said Pipalee, shortly; for she was rather an old + maid, and did not like fairies to be too close to each other. + </p> + <p> + “Watching my lord’s slumber,” said Nip. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” said Pipalee. + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” quoth Trip, blushing like a sea-shell; “there is no harm in <i>that</i>, + I’m sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said the queen, peeping through the reeds. + </p> + <p> + And now forth from the green bosom of the earth came a tiny train; slowly, + two by two, hand in hand, they swept from a small aperture, shadowed with + fragrant herbs, and formed themselves into a ring: then came other + fairies, laden with dainties, and presently two beautiful white mushrooms + sprang up, on which the viands were placed, and lo, there was a banquet! + Oh, how merry they were! what gentle peals of laughter, loud as a virgin’s + sigh! what jests! what songs! Happy race! if mortals could see you as + often as I do, in the soft nights of summer, they would never be at a loss + for entertainment. But as our English fairies looked on, they saw that + these foreign elves were of a different race from themselves: they were + taller and less handsome, their hair was darker, they wore mustaches, and + had something of a fiercer air. Poor Nymphalin was a little frightened; + but presently soft music was heard floating along, something like the + sound we suddenly hear of a still night when a light breeze steals through + rushes, or wakes a ripple in some shallow brook dancing over pebbles. And + lo, from the aperture of the earth came forth a fay, superbly dressed, and + of a noble presence. The queen started back, Pipalee rubbed her eyes, Trip + looked over Pipalee’s shoulder, and Nip, pinching her arm, cried out + amazed, “By the last new star, that is Prince von Fayzenheim!” + </p> + <p> + Poor Nymphalin gazed again, and her little heart beat under her bee’s-wing + bodice as if it would break. The prince had a melancholy air, and he sat + apart from the banquet, gazing abstractedly on the Rhine. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” whispered Nymphalin to herself, “does he think of me?” + </p> + <p> + Presently the prince drew forth a little flute hollowed from a small reed, + and began to play a mournful air. Nymphalin listened with delight; it was + one he had learned in her dominions. + </p> + <p> + When the air was over, the prince rose, and approaching the banqueters, + despatched them on different errands; one to visit the dwarf of the + Drachenfels, another to look after the grave of Musaeus, and a whole + detachment to puzzle the students of Heidelberg. A few launched themselves + upon willow leaves on the Rhine to cruise about in the starlight, and an + other band set out a hunting after the gray-legged moth. The prince was + left alone; and now Nymphalin, seeing the coast clear, wrapped herself up + in a cloak made out of a withered leaf; and only letting her eyes glow out + from the hood, she glided from the reeds, and the prince turning round, + saw a dark fairy figure by his side. He drew back, a little startled, and + placed his hand on his sword, when Nymphalin circling round him, sang the + following words:— + </p> + <p> + THE FAIRY’S REPROACH. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. By the glow-worm’s lamp in the dewy brake; + By the gossamer’s airy net; + By the shifting skin of the faithless snake, + Oh, teach me to forget: + For none, ah none + Can teach so well that human spell + As thou, false one! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + II. By the fairy dance on the greensward smooth; + By the winds of the gentle west; + By the loving stars, when their soft looks soothe + The waves on their mother’s breast, + Teach me thy lore! + By which, like withered flowers, + The leaves of buried Hours + Blossom no more! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + III. By the tent in the violet’s bell; + By the may on the scented bough; + By the lone green isle where my sisters dwell; + And thine own forgotten vow, + Teach me to live, + Nor feed on thoughts that pine + For love so false as thine! + Teach me thy lore, + And one thou lov’st no more + Will bless thee and forgive! +</pre> + <p> + “Surely,” said Fayzenheim, faltering, “surely I know that voice!” + </p> + <p> + And Nymphalin’s cloak dropped off her shoulder. “My English fairy!” and + Fayzenheim knelt beside her. + </p> + <p> + I wish you had seen the fay kneel, for you would have sworn it was so like + a human lover that you would never have sneered at love afterwards. Love + is so fairy-like a part of us, that even a fairy cannot make it + differently from us,—that is to say, when we love truly. + </p> + <p> + There was great joy in the island that night among the elves. They + conducted Nymphalin to their palace within the earth, and feasted her + sumptuously; and Nip told their adventures with so much spirit that he + enchanted the merry foreigners. But Fayzenheim talked apart to Nymphalin, + and told her how he was lord of that island, and how he had been obliged + to return to his dominions by the law of his tribe, which allowed him to + be absent only a certain time in every year. “But, my queen, I always + intended to revisit thee next spring.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou need’st not have left us so abruptly,” said Nymphalin, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “But do <i>thou</i> never leave me!” said the ardent fairy; “be mine, and + let our nuptials be celebrated on these shores. Wouldst thou sigh for thy + green island? No! for <i>there</i> the fairy altars are deserted, the + faith is gone from the land; thou art among the last of an unhonoured and + expiring race. Thy mortal poets are dumb, and Fancy, which was thy + priestess, sleeps hushed in her last repose. New and hard creeds have + succeeded to the fairy lore. Who steals through the starlit boughs on the + nights of June to watch the roundels of thy tribe? The wheels of commerce, + the din of trade, have silenced to mortal ear the music of thy subjects’ + harps! And the noisy habitations of men, harsher than their dreaming + sires, are gathering round the dell and vale where thy co-mates linger: a + few years, and where will be the green solitudes of England?” + </p> + <p> + The queen sighed, and the prince, perceiving that he was listened to, + continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Who, in thy native shores, among the children of men, now claims the + fairy’s care? What cradle wouldst thou tend? On what maid wouldst thou + shower thy rosy gifts? What barb wouldst thou haunt in his dreams? Poesy + is fled the island, why shouldst thou linger behind? Time hath brought + dull customs, that laugh at thy gentle being. Puck is buried in the + harebell, he hath left no offspring, and none mourn for his loss; for + night, which is the fairy season, is busy and garish as the day. What + hearth is desolate after the curfew? What house bathed in stillness at the + hour in which thy revels commence? Thine empire among men hath passed from + thee, and thy race are vanishing from the crowded soil; for, despite our + diviner nature, our existence is linked with man’s. Their neglect is our + disease, their forgetfulness our death. Leave then those dull, yet + troubled scenes, that are closing round the fairy rings of thy native + isle. These mountains, this herbage, these gliding waves, these mouldering + ruins, these starred rivulets, be they, O beautiful fairy! thy new domain. + Yet in these lands our worship lingers; still can we fill the thought of + the young bard, and mingle with his yearnings after the Beautiful, the + Unseen. Hither come the pilgrims of the world, anxious only to gather from + these scenes the legends of Us; ages will pass away ere the Rhine shall be + desecrated of our haunting presence. Come then, my queen, let this palace + be thine own, and the moon that glances over the shattered towers of the + Dragon Rock witness our nuptials and our vows!” + </p> + <p> + In such words the fairy prince courted the young queen, and while she + sighed at their truth she yielded to their charm. Oh, still may there be + one spot on the earth where the fairy feet may press the legendary soil! + still be there one land where the faith of The Bright Invisible hallows + and inspires! Still glide thou, O majestic and solemn Rhine, among shades + and valleys, from which the wisdom of belief can call the creations of the + younger world! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. WHEREIN THE READER IS MADE SPECTATOR WITH THE ENGLISH + </h2> + <p> + FAIRIES OF THE SCENES AND BEINGS THAT ARE BENEATH THE EARTH. + </p> + <p> + DURING the heat of next day’s noon, Fayzenheim took the English visitors + through the cool caverns that wind amidst the mountains of the Rhine. + There, a thousand wonders awaited the eyes of the fairy queen. I speak not + of the Gothic arch and aisle into which the hollow earth forms itself, or + the stream that rushes with a mighty voice through the dark chasm, or the + silver columns that shoot aloft, worked by the gnomes from the mines of + the mountains of Taunus; but of the strange inhabitants that from time to + time they came upon. They found in one solitary cell, lined with dried + moss, two misshapen elves, of a larger size than common, with a plebeian + working-day aspect, who were chatting noisily together, and making a pair + of boots: these were the Hausmannen or domestic elves, that dance into + tradesmen’s houses of a night, and play all sorts of undignified tricks. + They were very civil to the queen, for they are good-natured creatures on + the whole, and once had many relations in Scotland. They then, following + the course of a noisy rivulet, came to a hole from which the sharp head of + a fox peeped out. The queen was frightened. “Oh, come on,” said the fox, + encouragingly, “I am one of the fairy race, and many are the gambols we of + the brute-elves play in the German world of romance.” “Indeed, Mr. Fox,” + said the prince, “you only speak the truth; and how is Mr. Bruin?” “Quite + well, my prince, but tired of his seclusion; for indeed our race can do + little or nothing now in the world; and lie here in our old age, telling + stories of the past, and recalling the exploits we did in our youth,—which, + madam, you may see in all the fairy histories in the prince’s library.” + </p> + <p> + “Your own love adventures, for instance, Master Fox,” said the prince. + </p> + <p> + The fox snarled angrily, and drew in his head. + </p> + <p> + “You have displeased your friend,” said Nymphalin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he likes no allusions to the amorous follies of his youth. Did you + ever hear of his rivalry with the dog for the cat’s good graces?” + </p> + <p> + “No; that must be very amusing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my queen, when we rest by and by, I will relate to you the history + of the fox’s wooing.” + </p> + <p> + The next place they came to was a vast Runic cavern, covered with dark + inscriptions of a forgotten tongue; and sitting on a huge stone they found + a dwarf with long yellow hair, his head leaning on his breast, and + absorbed in meditation. “This is a spirit of a wise and powerful race,” + whispered Fayzenheim, “that has often battled with the fairies; but he is + of the kindly tribe.” + </p> + <p> + Then the dwarf lifted his head with a mournful air; and gazed upon the + bright shapes before him, lighted by the pine torches that the prince’s + attendants carried. + </p> + <p> + “And what dost thou muse upon, O descendant of the race of Laurin?” said + the prince. + </p> + <p> + “Upon TIME!” answered the dwarf, gloomily. “I see a River, and its waves + are black, flowing from the clouds, and none knoweth its source. It rolls + deeply on, aye and evermore, through a green valley, which it slowly + swallows up, washing away tower and town, and vanquishing all things; and + the name of the River is TIME.” + </p> + <p> + Then the dwarf’s head sank on his bosom, and he spoke no more. + </p> + <p> + The fairies proceeded. “Above us,” said the prince, “rises one of the + loftiest mountains of the Rhine; for mountains are the Dwarf’s home. When + the Great Spirit of all made earth, he saw that the hollows of the rocks + and hills were tenantless, and yet that a mighty kingdom and great palaces + were hid within them,—a dread and dark solitude, but lighted at + times from the starry eyes of many jewels; and there was the treasure of + the human world—gold and silver—and great heaps of gems, and a + soil of metals. So God made a race for this vast empire, and gifted them + with the power of thought, and the soul of exceeding wisdom, so that they + want not the merriment and enterprise of the outer world; but musing in + these dark caves is their delight. Their existence rolls away in the + luxury of thought; only from time to time they appear in the world, and + betoken woe or weal to men,—according to their nature, for they are + divided into two tribes, the benevolent and the wrathful.” While the + prince spoke, they saw glaring upon them from a ledge in the upper rock a + grisly face with a long matted beard. The prince gathered himself up, and + frowned at the evil dwarf, for such it was; but with a wild laugh the face + abruptly disappeared, and the echo of the laugh rang with a ghastly sound + through the long hollows of the earth. + </p> + <p> + The queen clung to Fayzenheim’s arm. “Fear not, my queen,” said he. “The + evil race have no power over our light and aerial nature; with men only + they war; and he whom we have seen was, in the old ages of the world, one + of the deadliest visitors to mankind.” + </p> + <p> + But now they came winding by a passage to a beautiful recess in the + mountain empire; it was of a circular shape of amazing height; in the + midst of it played a natural fountain of sparkling waters, and around it + were columns of massive granite, rising in countless vistas, till lost in + the distant shade. Jewels were scattered round, and brightly played the + fairy torches on the gem, the fountain, and the pale silver, that gleamed + at frequent intervals from the rocks. “Here let us rest,” said the gallant + fairy, clapping his hands; “what, ho! music and the feast.” + </p> + <p> + So the feast was spread by the fountain’s side; and the courtiers + scattered rose-leaves, which they had brought with them, for the prince + and his visitor; and amidst the dark kingdom of the dwarfs broke the + delicate sound of fairy lutes. “We have not these evil beings in England,” + said the queen, as low as she could speak; “they rouse my fear, but my + interest also. Tell me, dear prince, of what nature was the intercourse of + the evil dwarf with man?” + </p> + <p> + “You know,” answered the prince, “that to every species of living thing + there is something in common; the vast chain of sympathy runs through all + creation. By that which they have in common with the beast of the field or + the bird of the air, men govern the inferior tribes; they appeal to the + common passions of fear and emulation when they tame the wild steed, to + the common desire of greed and gain when they snare the fishes of the + stream, or allure the wolves to the pitfall by the bleating of the lamb. + In their turn, in the older ages of the world, it was by the passions + which men had in common with the demon race that the fiends commanded or + allured them. The dwarf whom you saw, being of that race which is + characterized by the ambition of power and the desire of hoarding, + appealed then in his intercourse with men to the same characteristics in + their own bosoms,—to ambition or to avarice. And thus were his + victims made! But, not now, dearest Nymphalin,” continued the prince, with + a more lively air,—“not now will we speak of those gloomy beings. + Ho, there! cease the music, and come hither all of ye, to listen to a + faithful and homely history of the Dog, the Cat, the Griffin, and the + Fox.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE WOOING OF MASTER FOX.* + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In the excursions of the fairies, it is the object of the author + to bring before the reader a rapid phantasmagoria of the various + beings that belong to the German superstitions, so that the work + may thus describe the outer and the inner world of the land of + the Rhine. The tale of the Fox’s Wooing has been composed to + give the English reader an idea of a species of novel not + naturalized amongst us, though frequent among the legends of our + Irish neighbours; in which the brutes are the only characters + drawn,—drawn too with shades of distinction as nice and subtle + as if they were the creatures of the civilized world. +</pre> + <p> + You are aware, my dear Nymphalin, that in the time of which I am about to + speak there was no particular enmity between the various species of + brutes; the dog and the hare chatted very agreeably together, and all the + world knows that the wolf, unacquainted with mutton, had a particular + affection for the lamb. In these happy days, two most respectable cats, of + very old family, had an only daughter. Never was kitten more amiable or + more seducing; as she grew up she manifested so many charms, that in a + little while she became noted as the greatest beauty in the neighbourhood. + Need I to you, dearest Nymphalin, describe her perfection? Suffice it to + say that her skin was of the most delicate tortoiseshell, that her paws + were smoother than velvet, that her whiskers were twelve inches long at + the least, and that her eyes had a gentleness altogether astonishing in a + cat. But if the young beauty had suitors in plenty during the lives of + monsieur and madame, you may suppose the number was not diminished when, + at the age of two years and a half, she was left an orphan, and sole + heiress to all the hereditary property. In fine, she was the richest + marriage in the whole country. Without troubling you, dearest queen, with + the adventures of the rest of her lovers, with their suit and their + rejection, I come at once to the two rivals most sanguine of success,—the + dog and the fox. + </p> + <p> + Now the dog was a handsome, honest, straightforward, affectionate fellow. + “For my part,” said he, “I don’t wonder at my cousin’s refusing Bruin the + bear, and Gauntgrim the wolf: to be sure they give themselves great airs, + and call themselves ‘<i>noble</i>,’ but what then? Bruin is always in the + sulks, and Gauntgrim always in a passion; a cat of any sensibility would + lead a miserable life with them. As for me, I am very good-tempered when + I’m not put out, and I have no fault except that of being angry if + disturbed at my meals. I am young and good-looking, fond of play and + amusement, and altogether as agreeable a husband as a cat could find in a + summer’s day. If she marries me, well and good; she may have her property + settled on herself: if not, I shall bear her no malice; and I hope I + sha’n’t be too much in love to forget that there are other cats in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + With that the dog threw his tail over his back, and set off to his + mistress with a gay face on the matter. + </p> + <p> + Now the fox heard the dog talking thus to himself, for the fox was always + peeping about, in holes and corners, and he burst out a laughing when the + dog was out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “Ho, ho, my fine fellow!” said he; “not so fast, if you please: you’ve got + the fox for a rival, let me tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The fox, as you very well know, is a beast that can never do anything + without a manoeuvre; and as, from his cunning, he was generally very lucky + in anything he undertook, he did not doubt for a moment that he should put + the dog’s nose out of joint. Reynard was aware that in love one should + always, if possible, be the first in the field; and he therefore resolved + to get the start of the dog and arrive before him at the cat’s residence. + But this was no easy matter; for though Reynard could run faster than the + dog for a little way, he was no match for him in a journey of some + distance. “However,” said Reynard, “those good-natured creatures are never + very wise; and I think I know already what will make him bait on his way.” + </p> + <p> + With that, the fox trotted pretty fast by a short cut in the woods, and + getting before the dog, laid himself down by a hole in the earth, and + began to howl most piteously. + </p> + <p> + The dog, hearing the noise, was very much alarmed. “See now,” said he, “if + the poor fox has not got himself into some scrape! Those cunning creatures + are always in mischief; thank Heaven, it never comes into my head to be + cunning!” And the good-natured animal ran off as hard as he could to see + what was the matter with the fox. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” cried Reynard; “what shall I do? What shall I do? My poor + little sister has fallen into this hole, and I can’t get her out; she’ll + certainly be smothered.” And the fox burst out a howling more piteously + than before. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Reynard,” quoth the dog, very simply, “why don’t you go in + after your sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you may well ask that,” said the fox; “but, in trying to get in, + don’t you perceive that I have sprained my back and can’t stir? Oh, dear! + what shall I do if my poor little sister is smothered!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray don’t vex yourself,” said the dog; “I’ll get her out in an instant.” + And with that he forced himself with great difficulty into the hole. + </p> + <p> + Now, no sooner did the fox see that the dog was fairly in, than he rolled + a great stone to the mouth of the hole and fitted it so tight, that the + dog, not being able to turn round and scratch against it with his + forepaws, was made a close prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha!” cried Reynard, laughing outside; “amuse yourself with my poor + little sister, while I go and make your compliments to Mademoiselle the + Cat.” + </p> + <p> + With that Reynard set off at an easy pace, never troubling his head what + became of the poor dog. When he arrived in the neighbourhood of the + beautiful cat’s mansion, he resolved to pay a visit to a friend of his, an + old magpie that lived in a tree and was well acquainted with all the news + of the place. “For,” thought Reynard, “I may as well know the blind side + of my mistress that is to be, and get round it at once.” + </p> + <p> + The magpie received the fox with great cordiality, and inquired what + brought him so great a distance from home. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” said the fox, “nothing so much as the pleasure of seeing + your ladyship and hearing those agreeable anecdotes you tell with so + charming a grace; but to let you into a secret—be sure it don’t go + further—” + </p> + <p> + “On the word of a magpie,” interrupted the bird. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me for doubting you,” continued the fox; “I should have + recollected that a pie was a proverb for discretion. But, as I was saying, + you know her Majesty the lioness?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said the magpie, bridling. + </p> + <p> + “Well; she was pleased to fall in—that is to say—to—to—take + a caprice to your humble servant, and the lion grew so jealous that I + thought it prudent to decamp. A jealous lion is no joke, let me assure + your ladyship. But mum’s the word.” + </p> + <p> + So great a piece of news delighted the magpie. She could not but repay it + in kind, by all the news in her budget. She told the fox all the scandal + about Bruin and Gauntgrim, and she then fell to work on the poor young + cat. She did not spare her foibles, you may be quite sure. The fox + listened with great attention, and he learned enough to convince him that + however much the magpie might exaggerate, the cat was very susceptible to + flattery, and had a great deal of imagination. + </p> + <p> + When the magpie had finished she said, “But it must be very unfortunate + for you to be banished from so magnificent a court as that of the lion?” + </p> + <p> + “As to that,” answered the fox, “I console myself for my exile with a + present his Majesty made me on parting, as a reward for my anxiety for his + honour and domestic tranquillity; namely, three hairs from the fifth leg + of the amoronthologosphorus. Only think of that, ma’am!” + </p> + <p> + “The what?” cried the pie, cocking down her left ear. + </p> + <p> + “The amoronthologosphorus.” + </p> + <p> + “La!” said the magpie; “and what is that very long word, my dear Reynard?” + </p> + <p> + “The amoronthologosphorus is a beast that lives on the other side of the + river Cylinx; it has five legs, and on the fifth leg there are three + hairs, and whoever has those three hairs can be young and beautiful + forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me! I wish you would let me see them,” said the pie, holding out + her claw. + </p> + <p> + “Would that I could oblige you, ma’am; but it’s as much as my life’s worth + to show them to any but the lady I marry. In fact, they only have an + effect on the fair sex, as you may see by myself, whose poor person they + utterly fail to improve: they are, therefore, intended for a marriage + present, and his Majesty the lion thus generously atoned to me for + relinquishing the tenderness of his queen. One must confess that there was + a great deal of delicacy in the gift. But you’ll be sure not to mention + it.” + </p> + <p> + “A magpie gossip indeed!” quoth the old blab. + </p> + <p> + The fox then wished the magpie good night, and retired to a hole to sleep + off the fatigues of the day, before he presented himself to the beautiful + young cat. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, Heaven knows how! it was all over the place that Reynard + the fox had been banished from court for the favour shown him by her + Majesty, and that the lion had bribed his departure with three hairs that + would make any lady whom the fox married young and beautiful forever. + </p> + <p> + The cat was the first to learn the news, and she became all curiosity to + see so interesting a stranger, possessed of “qualifications” which, in the + language of the day, “would render any animal happy!” She was not long + without obtaining her wish. As she was taking a walk in the wood the fox + contrived to encounter her. You may be sure that he made her his best bow; + and he flattered the poor cat with so courtly an air that she saw nothing + surprising in the love of the lioness. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile let us see what became of his rival, the dog. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the poor creature!” said Nymphalin; “it is easy to guess that he need + not be buried alive to lose all chance of marrying the heiress.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till the end,” answered Fayzenheim. + </p> + <p> + When the dog found that he was thus entrapped, he gave himself up for + lost. In vain he kicked with his hind-legs against the stone,—he + only succeeded in bruising his paws; and at length he was forced to lie + down, with his tongue out of his mouth, and quite exhausted. “However,” + said he, after he had taken breath, “it won’t do to be starved here, + without doing my best to escape; and if I can’t get out one way, let me + see if there is not a hole at the other end.” Thus saying, his courage, + which stood him in lieu of cunning, returned, and he proceeded on in the + same straightforward way in which he always conducted himself. At first + the path was exceedingly narrow, and he hurt his sides very much against + the rough stones that projected from the earth; but by degrees the way + became broader, and he now went on with considerable ease to himself, till + he arrived in a large cavern, where he saw an immense griffin sitting on + his tail, and smoking a huge pipe. + </p> + <p> + The dog was by no means pleased at meeting so suddenly a creature that had + only to open his mouth to swallow him up at a morsel; however, he put a + bold face on the danger, and walking respectfully up to the griffin, said, + “Sir, I should be very much obliged to you if you would inform me the way + out of these holes into the upper world.” + </p> + <p> + The griffin took the pipe out of his mouth, and looked at the dog very + sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Ho, wretch!” said he, “how comest thou hither? I suppose thou wantest to + steal my treasure; but I know how to treat such vagabonds as you, and I + shall certainly eat you up. + </p> + <p> + “You can do that if you choose,” said the dog; “but it would be very + unhandsome conduct in an animal so much bigger than myself. For my own + part, I never attack any dog that is not of equal size,—I should be + ashamed of myself if I did. And as to your treasure, the character I bear + for honesty is too well known to merit such a suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” said the griffin, who could not help smiling for the life + of him, “you have a singularly free mode of expressing yourself. And how, + I say, came you hither?” + </p> + <p> + Then the dog, who did not know what a lie was, told the griffin his whole + history,—how he had set off to pay his court to the cat, and how + Reynard the fox had entrapped him into the hole. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished, the griffin said to him, “I see, my friend, that you + know how to speak the truth; I am in want of just such a servant as you + will make me, therefore stay with me and keep watch over my treasure when + I sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Two words to that,” said the dog. “You have hurt my feelings very much by + suspecting my honesty, and I would much sooner go back into the wood and + be avenged on that scoundrel the fox, than serve a master who has so ill + an opinion of me. I pray you, therefore, to dismiss me, and to put me in + the right way to my cousin the cat.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a griffin of many words,” answered the master of the cavern, + “and I give you your choice,—be my servant or be my breakfast; it is + just the same to me. I give you time to decide till I have smoked out my + pipe.” + </p> + <p> + The poor dog did not take so long to consider. “It is true,” thought he, + “that it is a great misfortune to live in a cave with a griffin of so + unpleasant a countenance; but, probably, if I serve him well and + faithfully, he’ll take pity on me some day, and let me go back to earth, + and prove to my cousin what a rogue the fox is; and as to the rest, though + I would sell my life as dear as I could, it is impossible to fight a + griffin with a mouth of so monstrous a size.” In short, he decided to stay + with the griffin. + </p> + <p> + “Shake a paw on it,” quoth the grim smoker; and the dog shook paws. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said the griffin, “I will tell you what you are to do. Look + here,” and moving his tail, he showed the dog a great heap of gold and + silver, in a hole in the ground, that he had covered with the folds of his + tail; and also, what the dog thought more valuable, a great heap of bones + of very tempting appearance. “Now,” said the griffin, “during the day I + can take very good care of these myself; but at night it is very necessary + that I should go to sleep, so when I sleep you must watch over them + instead of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the dog. “As to the gold and silver, I have no + objection; but I would much rather that you would lock up the bones, for + I’m often hungry of a night, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue,” said the griffin. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” said the dog, after a short silence, “surely nobody ever comes + into so retired a situation! Who are the thieves, if I may make bold to + ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Know,” answered the griffin, “that there are a great many serpents in + this neighbourhood. They are always trying to steal my treasure; and if + they catch me napping, they, not contented with theft, would do their best + to sting me to death. So that I am almost worn out for want of sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” quoth the dog, who was fond of a good night’s rest, “I don’t envy + you your treasure, sir.” + </p> + <p> + At night, the griffin, who had a great deal of penetration, and saw that + he might depend on the dog, lay down to sleep in another corner of the + cave; and the dog, shaking himself well, so as to be quite awake, took + watch over the treasure. His mouth watered exceedingly at the bones, and + he could not help smelling them now and then; but he said to himself, “A + bargain’s a bargain, and since I have promised to serve the griffin, I + must serve him as an honest dog ought to serve.” + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the night he saw a great snake creeping in by the side of + the cave; but the dog set up so loud a bark that the griffin awoke, and + the snake crept away as fast as he could. Then the griffin was very much + pleased, and he gave the dog one of the bones to amuse himself with; and + every night the dog watched the treasure, and acquitted himself so well + that not a snake, at last, dared to make its appearance,—so the + griffin enjoyed an excellent night’s rest. + </p> + <p> + The dog now found himself much more comfortable than he expected. The + griffin regularly gave him one of the bones for supper; and, pleased with + his fidelity, made himself as agreeable a master as a griffin could be. + Still, however, the dog was secretly very anxious to return to earth; for + having nothing to do during the day but to doze on the ground, he dreamed + perpetually of his cousin the cat’s charms, and, in fancy, he gave the + rascal Reynard as hearty a worry as a fox may well have the honour of + receiving from a dog’s paws. He awoke panting; alas! he could not realize + his dreams. + </p> + <p> + One night, as he was watching as usual over the treasure, he was greatly + surprised to see a beautiful little black and white dog enter the cave; + and it came fawning to our honest friend, wagging its tail with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, little one,” said our dog, whom, to distinguish, I will call the + watch-dog, “you had better make the best of your way back again. See, + there is a great griffin asleep in the other corner of the cave, and if he + wakes, he will either eat you up or make you his servant, as he has made + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you would tell me,” says the little dog; “and I have come + down here to deliver you. The stone is now gone from the mouth of the + cave, and you have nothing to do but to go back with me. Come, brother, + come.” + </p> + <p> + The dog was very much excited by this address. “Don’t ask me, my dear + little friend,” said he; “you must be aware that I should be too happy to + escape out of this cold cave, and roll on the soft turf once more: but if + I leave my master, the griffin, those cursed serpents, who are always on + the watch, will come in and steal his treasure,—nay, perhaps, sting + him to death.” Then the little dog came up to the watch-dog, and + remonstrated with him greatly, and licked him caressingly on both sides of + his face; and, taking him by the ear, endeavoured to draw him from the + treasure: but the dog would not stir a step, though his heart sorely + pressed him. At length the little dog, finding it all in vain, said, + “Well, then, if I must leave, good-by; but I have become so hungry in + coming down all this way after you, that I wish you would give me one of + those bones; they smell very pleasantly, and one out of so many could + never be missed.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said the watchdog, with tears in his eyes, “how unlucky I am to + have eaten up the bone my master gave me, otherwise you should have had it + and welcome. But I can’t give you one of these, because my master has made + me promise to watch over them all, and I have given him my paw on it. I am + sure a dog of your respectable appearance will say nothing further on the + subject.” + </p> + <p> + Then the little dog answered pettishly, “Pooh, what nonsense you talk! + surely a great griffin can’t miss a little bone fit for me?” and nestling + his nose under the watch-dog, he tried forthwith to bring up one of the + bones. + </p> + <p> + On this the watch-dog grew angry, and, though with much reluctance, he + seized the little dog by the nape of the neck and threw him off, but + without hurting him. Suddenly the little dog changed into a monstrous + serpent, bigger even than the griffin himself, and the watch-dog barked + with all his might. The griffin rose in a great hurry, and the serpent + sprang upon him ere he was well awake. I wish, dearest Nymphalin, you + could have seen the battle between the griffin and the serpent,—how + they coiled and twisted, and bit and darted their fiery tongues at each + other. At length the serpent got uppermost, and was about to plunge his + tongue into that part of the griffin which is unprotected by his scales, + when the dog, seizing him by the tail, bit him so sharply that he could + not help turning round to kill his new assailant, and the griffin, taking + advantage of the opportunity, caught the serpent by the throat with both + claws, and fairly strangled him. As soon as the griffin had recovered from + the nervousness of the conflict, he heaped all manner of caresses on the + dog for saving his life. The dog told him the whole story, and the griffin + then explained that the dead snake was the king of the serpents, who had + the power to change himself into any shape he pleased. “If he had tempted + you,” said he, “to leave the treasure but for one moment, or to have given + him any part of it, ay, but a single bone, he would have crushed you in an + instant, and stung me to death ere I could have waked; but none, no, not + the most venomous thing in creation, has power to hurt the honest!” + </p> + <p> + “That has always been my belief,” answered the dog; “and now, sir, you had + better go to sleep again and leave the rest to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” answered the griffin, “I have no longer need of a servant; for now + that the king of the serpents is dead, the rest will never molest me. It + was only to satisfy his avarice that his subjects dared to brave the den + of the griffin.” + </p> + <p> + Upon hearing this the dog was exceedingly delighted; and raising himself + on his hind paws, he begged the griffin most movingly to let him return to + earth, to visit his mistress the cat, and worry his rival the fox. + </p> + <p> + “You do not serve an ungrateful master,” answered the griffin. “You shall + return, and I will teach you all the craft of our race, which is much + craftier than the race of that pettifogger the fox, so that you may be + able to cope with your rival.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, excuse me,” said the dog, hastily, “I am equally obliged to you; but + I fancy honesty is a match for cunning any day, and I think myself a great + deal safer in being a dog of honour than if I knew all the tricks in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the griffin, a little piqued at the dog’s bluntness, “do as + you please; I wish you all possible success.” + </p> + <p> + Then the griffin opened a secret door in the side of the cabin, and the + dog saw a broad path that led at once into the wood. He thanked the + griffin with all his heart, and ran wagging his tail into the open + moonlight. “Ah, ah, master fox,” said he, “there’s no trap for an honest + dog that has not two doors to it, cunning as you think yourself.” + </p> + <p> + With that he curled his tail gallantly over his left leg, and set off on a + long trot to the cat’s house. When he was within sight of it, he stopped + to refresh himself by a pool of water, and who should be there but our + friend the magpie. + </p> + <p> + “And what do <i>you</i> want, friend?” said she, rather disdainfully, for + the dog looked somewhat out of case after his journey. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to see my cousin the cat,” answered he. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Your cousin</i>! marry come up,” said the magpie; “don’t you know she + is going to be married to Reynard the fox? This is not a time for her to + receive the visits of a brute like you.” + </p> + <p> + These words put the dog in such a passion that he very nearly bit the + magpie for her uncivil mode of communicating such bad news. However, he + curbed his temper, and, without answering her, went at once to the cat’s + residence. + </p> + <p> + The cat was sitting at the window, and no sooner did the dog see her than + he fairly lost his heart; never had he seen so charming a cat before. He + advanced, wagging his tail, and with his most insinuating air, when the + cat, getting up, clapped the window in his face, and lo! Reynard the fox + appeared in her stead. + </p> + <p> + “Come out, thou rascal!” said the dog, showing his teeth; “come out, I + challenge thee to single combat; I have not forgiven thy malice, and thou + seest that I am no longer shut up in the cave, and unable to punish thee + for thy wickedness.” + </p> + <p> + “Go home, silly one!” answered the fox, sneering; “thou hast no business + here, and as for fighting thee—bah!” Then the fox left the window + and disappeared. But the dog, thoroughly enraged, scratched lustily at the + door, and made such a noise, that presently the cat herself came to the + window. + </p> + <p> + “How now!” said she, angrily; “what means all this rudeness? Who are you, + and what do you want at my house?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear cousin,” said the dog, “do not speak so severely. Know that I + have come here on purpose to pay you a visit; and, whatever you do, let me + beseech you not to listen to that villain Reynard,—you have no + conception what a rogue he is!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said the cat, blushing; “do you dare to abuse your betters in this + fashion? I see you have a design on me. Go, this instant, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, madam,” said the dog, proudly; “you need not speak twice to me,—farewell.” + </p> + <p> + And he turned away very slowly, and went under a tree, where he took up + his lodgings for the night. But the next morning there was an amazing + commotion in the neighbourhood; a stranger, of a very different style of + travelling from that of the dog, had arrived at the dead of the night, and + fixed his abode in a large cavern hollowed out of a steep rock. The noise + he had made in flying through the air was so great that it had awakened + every bird and beast in the parish; and Reynard, whose bad conscience + never suffered him to sleep very soundly, putting his head out of the + window, perceived, to his great alarm, that the stranger was nothing less + than a monstrous griffin. + </p> + <p> + Now the griffins are the richest beasts in the world; and that’s the + reason they keep so close under ground. Whenever it does happen that they + pay a visit above, it is not a thing to be easily forgotten. + </p> + <p> + The magpie was all agitation. What could the griffin possibly want there? + She resolved to take a peep at the cavern, and accordingly she hopped + timorously up the rock, and pretended to be picking up sticks for her + nest. + </p> + <p> + “Holla, ma’am!” cried a very rough voice, and she saw the griffin putting + his head out of the cavern. “Holla! you are the very lady I want to see; + you know all the people about here, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “All the best company, your lordship, I certainly do,” answered the + magpie, dropping a courtesy. + </p> + <p> + Upon this the griffin walked out; and smoking his pipe leisurely in the + open air, in order to set the pie at her ease, continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Are there any respectable beasts of good families settled in this + neighbourhood?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, most elegant society, I assure your lordship,” cried the pie. “I have + lived here myself these ten years, and the great heiress, the cat yonder, + attracts a vast number of strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! heiress, indeed! much you know about heiresses!” said the griffin. + “There is only one heiress in the world, and that’s my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me! has your lordship a family? I beg you a thousand pardons; but I + only saw your lordship’s own equipage last night, and did not know you + brought any one with you.” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter went first, and was safely lodged before I arrived. She did + not disturb you, I dare say, as I did; for she sails along like a swan: + but I have got the gout in my left claw, and that’s the reason I puff and + groan so in taking a journey.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I drop in upon Miss Griffin, and see how she is after her journey?” + said the pie, advancing. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, no. I don’t intend her to be seen while I stay here,—it + unsettles her; and I’m afraid of the young beasts running away with her if + they once heard how handsome she was: she’s the living picture of me, but + she’s monstrous giddy! Not that I should care much if she did go off with + a beast of degree, were I not obliged to pay her portion, which is + prodigious; and I don’t like parting with money, ma’am, when I’ve once got + it. Ho, ho, ho!” + </p> + <p> + “You are too witty, my lord. But if you refused your consent?” said the + pie, anxious to know the whole family history of so grand a seigneur. + </p> + <p> + “I should have to pay the dowry all the same. It was left her by her uncle + the dragon. But don’t let this go any further.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship may depend on my secrecy. I wish your lordship a very good + morning.” + </p> + <p> + Away flew the pie, and she did not stop till she got to the cat’s house. + The cat and the fox were at breakfast, and the fox had his paw on his + heart. “Beautiful scene!” cried the pie; the cat coloured, and bade the + pie take a seat. + </p> + <p> + Then off went the pie’s tongue, glib, glib, glib, chatter, chatter, + chatter. She related to them the whole story of the griffin and his + daughter, and a great deal more besides, that the griffin had never told + her. + </p> + <p> + The cat listened attentively. Another young heiress in the neighbourhood + might be a formidable rival. “But is this griffiness handsome?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Handsome!” cried the pie; “oh, if you could have seen the father!—such + a mouth, such eyes, such a complexion; and he declares she’s the living + picture of himself! But what do you say, Mr. Reynard,—you, who have + been so much in the world, have, perhaps, seen the young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I can’t say I have,” answered the fox, waking from a revery; “but + she must be wonderfully rich. I dare say that fool the dog will be making + up to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, by the way,” said the pie, “what a fuss he made at your door + yesterday; why would you not admit him, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said the cat, demurely, “Mr. Reynard says that he is a dog of very + bad character, quite a fortune-hunter; and hiding the most dangerous + disposition to bite under an appearance of good nature. I hope he won’t be + quarrelsome with you, dear Reynard!” + </p> + <p> + “With me? Oh, the poor wretch, no!—he might bluster a little; but he + knows that if I’m once angry I’m a devil at biting;—one should not + boast of oneself.” + </p> + <p> + In the evening Reynard felt a strange desire to go and see the griffin + smoking his pipe; but what could he do? There was the dog under the + opposite tree evidently watching for him, and Reynard had no wish to prove + himself that devil at biting which he declared he was. At last he resolved + to have recourse to stratagem to get rid of the dog. + </p> + <p> + A young buck of a rabbit, a sort of provincial fop, had looked in upon his + cousin the cat, to pay her his respects, and Reynard, taking him aside, + said, “You see that shabby-looking dog under the tree? He has behaved very + ill to your cousin the cat, and you certainly ought to challenge him. + Forgive my boldness, nothing but respect for your character induces me to + take so great a liberty; you know I would chastise the rascal myself, but + what a scandal it would make! If I were already married to your cousin, it + would be a different thing. But you know what a story that cursed magpie + would hatch out of it!” + </p> + <p> + The rabbit looked very foolish; he assured the fox he was no match for the + dog; that he was very fond of his cousin, to be sure! but he saw no + necessity to interfere with her domestic affairs; and, in short, he tried + all he possibly could to get out of the scrape; but the fox so artfully + played on his vanity, so earnestly assured him that the dog was the + biggest coward in the world and would make a humble apology, and so + eloquently represented to him the glory he would obtain for manifesting so + much spirit, that at length the rabbit was persuaded to go out and deliver + the challenge. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be your second,” said the fox; “and the great field on the other + side the wood, two miles hence, shall be the place of battle: there we + shall be out of observation. You go first, I’ll follow in half an hour; + and I say, hark!—in case he does accept the challenge, and you feel + the least afraid, I’ll be in the field, and take it off your paws with the + utmost pleasure; rely on <i>me</i>, my dear sir!” + </p> + <p> + Away went the rabbit. The dog was a little astonished at the temerity of + the poor creature; but on hearing that the fox was to be present, + willingly consented to repair to the place of conflict. This readiness the + rabbit did not at all relish; he went very slowly to the field, and seeing + no fox there, his heart misgave him; and while the dog was putting his + nose to the ground to try if he could track the coming of the fox, the + rabbit slipped into a burrow, and left the dog to walk back again. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the fox was already at the rock; he walked very soft-footedly, + and looked about with extreme caution, for he had a vague notion that a + griffin-papa would not be very civil to foxes. + </p> + <p> + Now there were two holes in the rock,—one below, one above, an upper + story and an under; and while the fox was peering about, he saw a great + claw from the upper rock beckoning to him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah!” said the fox, “that’s the wanton young griffiness, I’ll swear.” + </p> + <p> + He approached, and a voice said,— + </p> + <p> + “Charming Mr. Reynard, do you not think you could deliver an unfortunate + griffiness from a barbarous confinement in this rock?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heavens!” cried the fox, tenderly, “what a beautiful voice! and, ah, + my poor heart, what a lovely claw! Is it possible that I hear the daughter + of my lord, the great griffin?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, flatterer! not so loud, if you please. My father is taking an + evening stroll, and is very quick of hearing. He has tied me up by my poor + wings in the cavern, for he is mightily afraid of some beast running away + with me. You know I have all my fortune settled on myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk not of fortune,” said the fox; “but how can I deliver you? Shall I + enter and gnaw the cord?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” answered the griffiness, “it is an immense chain I am bound with. + However, you may come in and talk more at your ease.” + </p> + <p> + The fox peeped cautiously all round, and seeing no sign of the griffin, he + entered the lower cave and stole upstairs to the upper story; but as he + went on, he saw immense piles of jewels and gold, and all sorts of + treasure, so that the old griffin might well have laughed at the poor cat + being called an heiress. The fox was greatly pleased at such indisputable + signs of wealth, and he entered the upper cave, resolved to be transported + with the charms of the griffiness. + </p> + <p> + There was, however, a great chasm between the landing-place and the spot + where the young lady was chained, and he found it impossible to pass; the + cavern was very dark, but he saw enough of the figure of the griffiness to + perceive, in spite of her petticoat, that she was the image of her father, + and the most hideous heiress that the earth ever saw! + </p> + <p> + However, he swallowed his disgust, and poured forth such a heap of + compliments that the griffiness appeared entirely won. + </p> + <p> + He implored her to fly with him the first moment she was unchained. + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible,” said she; “for my father never unchains me except in + his presence, and then I cannot stir out of his sight.” + </p> + <p> + “The wretch!” cried Reynard, “what is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, there is only one thing I know of,” answered the griffiness, “which + is this: I always make his soup for him, and if I could mix something in + it that would put him fast to sleep before he had time to chain me up + again I might slip down and carry off all the treasure below on my back.” + </p> + <p> + “Charming!” exclaimed Reynard; “what invention! what wit! I will go and + get some poppies directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said the griffiness, “poppies have no effect upon griffins. The + only thing that can ever put my father fast to sleep is a nice young cat + boiled up in his soup; it is astonishing what a charm that has upon him! + But where to get a cat?—it must be a maiden cat too!” + </p> + <p> + Reynard was a little startled at so singular an opiate. “But,” thought he, + “griffins are not like the rest of the world, and so rich an heiress is + not to be won by ordinary means.” + </p> + <p> + “I do know a cat,—a maiden cat,” said he, after a short pause; “but + I feel a little repugnance at the thought of having her boiled in the + griffin’s soup. Would not a dog do as well?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, base thing!” said the griffiness, appearing to weep; “you are in love + with the cat, I see it; go and marry her, poor dwarf that she is, and + leave me to die of grief.” + </p> + <p> + In vain the fox protested that he did not care a straw for the cat; + nothing could now appease the griffiness but his positive assurance that + come what would poor puss should be brought to the cave and boiled for the + griffin’s soup. + </p> + <p> + “But how will you get her here?” said the griffiness. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, leave that to me,” said Reynard. “Only put a basket out of the window + and draw it up by a cord; the moment it arrives at the window, be sure to + clap your claw on the cat at once, for she is terribly active.” + </p> + <p> + “Tush!” answered the heiress; “a pretty griffiness I should be if I did + not know how to catch a cat!” + </p> + <p> + “But this must be when your father is out?” said Reynard. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; he takes a stroll every evening at sunset.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it be to-morrow, then,” said Reynard, impatient for the treasure. + </p> + <p> + This being arranged, Reynard thought it time to decamp. He stole down the + stairs again, and tried to filch some of the treasure by the way; but it + was too heavy for him to carry, and he was forced to acknowledge to + himself that it was impossible to get the treasure without taking the + griffiness (whose back seemed prodigiously strong) into the bargain. + </p> + <p> + He returned home to the cat, and when he entered her house, and saw how + ordinary everything looked after the jewels in the griffin’s cave, he + quite wondered how he had ever thought the cat had the least pretensions + to good looks. However, he concealed his wicked design, and his mistress + thought he had never appeared so amiable. + </p> + <p> + “Only guess,” said he, “where I have been!—to our new neighbour the + griffin; a most charming person, thoroughly affable, and quite the air of + the court. As for that silly magpie, the griffin saw her character at + once; and it was all a hoax about his daughter,—he has no daughter + at all. You know, my dear, hoaxing is a fashionable amusement among the + great. He says he has heard of nothing but your beauty, and on my telling + him we were going to be married, he has insisted upon giving a great ball + and supper in honour of the event. In fact, he is a gallant old fellow, + and dying to see you. Of course, I was obliged to accept the invitation.” + </p> + <p> + “You could not do otherwise,” said the unsuspecting young creature, who, + as I before said, was very susceptible to flattery. + </p> + <p> + “And only think how delicate his attentions are,” said the fox. “As he is + very badly lodged for a beast of his rank, and his treasure takes up the + whole of the ground floor, he is forced to give the <i>fete</i> in the + upper story, so he hangs out a basket for his guests, and draws them up + with his own claw. How condescending! But the great <i>are</i> so + amiable!” + </p> + <p> + The cat, brought up in seclusion, was all delight at the idea of seeing + such high life, and the lovers talked of nothing else all the next day,—when + Reynard, towards evening, putting his head out of the window, saw his old + friend the dog lying as usual and watching him very grimly. “Ah, that + cursed creature! I had quite forgotten him; what is to be done now? He + would make no bones of me if he once saw me set foot out of doors.” + </p> + <p> + With that, the fox began to cast in his head how he should get rid of his + rival, and at length he resolved on a very notable project; he desired the + cat to set out first, and wait for him at a turn in the road a little way + off. “For,” said he, “if we go together we shall certainly be insulted by + the dog; and he will know that in the presence of a lady, the custom of a + beast of my fashion will not suffer me to avenge the affront. But when I + am alone, the creature is such a coward that he will not dare say his + soul’s his own; leave the door open and I’ll follow immediately.” + </p> + <p> + The cat’s mind was so completely poisoned against her cousin that she + implicitly believed this account of his character; and accordingly, with + many recommendations to her lover not to sully his dignity by getting into + any sort of quarrel with the dog, she set off first. + </p> + <p> + The dog went up to her very humbly, and begged her to allow him to say a + few words to her; but she received him so haughtily, that his spirit was + up; and he walked back to the tree more than ever enraged against his + rival. But what was his joy when he saw that the cat had left the door + open! “Now, wretch,” thought he, “you cannot escape me!” So he walked + briskly in at the back door. He was greatly surprised to find Reynard + lying down in the straw, panting as if his heart would break, and rolling + his eyes in the pangs of death. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, friend,” said the fox, with a faltering voice, “you are avenged, my + hour is come; I am just going to give up the ghost: put your paw upon + mine, and say you forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + Despite his anger, the generous dog could not set tooth on a dying foe. + </p> + <p> + “You have served me a shabby trick,” said he; “you have left me to starve + in a hole, and you have evidently maligned me with my cousin: certainly I + meant to be avenged on you; but if you are really dying, that alters the + affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” groaned the fox, very bitterly; “I am past help; the poor cat is + gone for Doctor Ape, but he’ll never come in time. What a thing it is to + have a bad conscience on one’s death-bed! But wait till the cat returns, + and I’ll do you full justice with her before I die.” + </p> + <p> + The good-natured dog was much moved at seeing his mortal enemy in such a + state, and endeavoured as well as he could to console him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” said the fox; “I am so parched in the throat, I am burning;” and + he hung his tongue out of his mouth, and rolled his eyes more fearfully + than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Is there no water here?” said the dog, looking round. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, no!—yet stay! yes, now I think of it, there is some in that + little hole in the wall; but how to get at it! It is so high that I can’t, + in my poor weak state, climb up to it; and I dare not ask such a favour of + one I have injured so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk of it,” said the dog: “but the hole’s very small, I could not + put my nose through it.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but if you just climb up on that stone, and thrust your paw into the + hole, you can dip it into the water, and so cool my poor parched mouth. + Oh, what a thing it is to have a bad conscience!” + </p> + <p> + The dog sprang upon the stone, and, getting on his hind legs, thrust his + front paw into the hole; when suddenly Reynard pulled a string that he had + concealed under the straw, and the dog found his paw caught tight to the + wall in a running noose. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, rascal!” said he, turning round; but the fox leaped up gayly from the + straw, and fastening the string with his teeth to a nail in the other end + of the wall, walked out, crying, “Good-by, my dear friend; have a care how + you believe hereafter in sudden conversions!” So he left the dog on his + hind legs to take care of the house. + </p> + <p> + Reynard found the cat waiting for him where he had appointed, and they + walked lovingly together till they came to the cave. It was now dark, and + they saw the basket waiting below; the fox assisted the poor cat into it. + “There is only room for one,” said he, “you must go first!” Up rose the + basket; the fox heard a piteous mew, and no more. + </p> + <p> + “So much for the griffin’s soup!” thought he. + </p> + <p> + He waited patiently for some time, when the griffiness, waving her claw + from the window, said cheerfully, “All’s right, my dear Reynard; my papa + has finished his soup, and sleeps as sound as a rock! All the noise in the + world would not wake him now, till he has slept off the boiled cat, which + won’t be these twelve hours. Come and assist me in packing up the + treasure; I should be sorry to leave a single diamond behind.” + </p> + <p> + “So should I,” quoth the fox. “Stay, I’ll come round by the lower hole: + why, the door’s shut! pray, beautiful griffiness, open it to thy impatient + adorer.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my father has hid the key! I never know where he places it. You + must come up by the basket; see, I will lower it for you.” + </p> + <p> + The fox was a little loth to trust himself in the same conveyance that had + taken his mistress to be boiled; but the most cautious grow rash when + money’s to be gained, and avarice can trap even a fox. So he put himself + as comfortably as he could into the basket, and up he went in an instant. + It rested, however, just before it reached the window, and the fox felt, + with a slight shudder, the claw of the griffiness stroking his back. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a beautiful coat!” quoth she, caressingly. + </p> + <p> + “You are too kind,” said the fox; “but you can feel it more at your + leisure when I am once up. Make haste, I beseech you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a beautiful bushy tail! Never did I feel such a tail.” + </p> + <p> + “It is entirely at your service, sweet griffiness,” said the fox; “but + pray let me in. Why lose an instant?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never did I feel such a tail! No wonder you are so successful with + the ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, beloved griffiness, my tail is yours to eternity, but you pinch it a + little too hard.” + </p> + <p> + Scarcely had he said this, when down dropped the basket, but not with the + fox in it; he found himself caught by the tail, and dangling half way down + the rock, by the help of the very same sort of pulley wherewith he had + snared the dog. I leave you to guess his consternation; he yelped out as + loud as he could,—for it hurts a fox exceedingly to be hanged by his + tail with his head downwards,—when the door of the rock opened, and + out stalked the griffin himself, smoking his pipe, with a vast crowd of + all the fashionable beasts in the neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + “Oho, brother,” said the bear, laughing fit to kill himself; “who ever saw + a fox hanged by the tail before?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have need of a physician,” quoth Doctor Ape. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty match, indeed; a griffiness for such a creature as you!” said + the goat, strutting by him. + </p> + <p> + The fox grinned with pain, and said nothing. But that which hurt him most + was the compassion of a dull fool of a donkey, who assured him with great + gravity that he saw nothing at all to laugh at in his situation! + </p> + <p> + “At all events,” said the fox, at last, “cheated, gulled, betrayed as I + am, I have played the same trick to the dog. Go and laugh at him, + gentlemen; he deserves it as much as I can, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said the griffin, taking the pipe out of his mouth; “one + never laughs at the honest.” + </p> + <p> + “And see,” said the bear, “here he is.” + </p> + <p> + And indeed the dog had, after much effort, gnawed the string in two, and + extricated his paw; the scent of the fox had enabled him to track his + footsteps, and here he arrived, burning for vengeance and finding himself + already avenged. + </p> + <p> + But his first thought was for his dear cousin. “Ah, where is she?” he + cried movingly; “without doubt that villain Reynard has served her some + scurvy trick.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear so indeed, my old friend,” answered the griffin; “but don’t + grieve,—after all, she was nothing particular. You shall marry my + daughter the griffiness, and succeed to all the treasure; ay, and all the + bones that you once guarded so faithfully.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk not to me,” said the faithful dog. “I want none of your treasure; + and, though I don’t mean to be rude, your griffiness may go to the devil. + I will run over the world, but I will find my dear cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “See her then,” said the griffin; and the beautiful cat, more beautiful + than ever, rushed out of the cavern, and threw herself into the dog’s + paws. + </p> + <p> + A pleasant scene this for the fox! He had skill enough in the female heart + to know that it may excuse many little infidelities, but to be boiled + alive for a griffin’s soup—no, the offence was inexpiable. + </p> + <p> + “You understand me, Mr. Reynard,” said the griffin, “I have no daughter, + and it was me you made love to. Knowing what sort of a creature a magpie + is, I amused myself with hoaxing her,—the fashionable amusement at + court, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The fox made a mighty struggle, and leaped on the ground, leaving his tail + behind him. It did not grow again in a hurry. + </p> + <p> + “See,” said the griffin, as the beasts all laughed at the figure Reynard + made running into the wood, “the dog beats the fox with the ladies, after + all; and cunning as he is in everything else, the fox is the last creature + that should ever think of making love!” + </p> + <p> + “Charming!” cried Nymphalin, clasping her hands; “it is just the sort of + story I like.” + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose, sir,” said Nip, pertly, “that the dog and the cat lived + very happily ever afterwards? Indeed the nuptial felicity of a dog and cat + is proverbial!” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say they lived much the same as any other married couple,” + answered the prince. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE TOMB OF A FATHER OF MANY CHILDREN. + </h2> + <p> + THE feast being now ended, as well as the story, the fairies wound their + way homeward by a different path, till at length a red steady light glowed + through the long basaltic arches upon them, like the Demon Hunters’ fires + in the Forest of Pines. + </p> + <p> + The prince sobered in his pace. “You approach,” said he, in a grave tone, + “the greatest of our temples; you will witness the tomb of a mighty + founder of our race!” An awe crept over the queen, in spite of herself. + Tracking the fires in silence, they came to a vast space, in the midst of + which was a long gray block of stone, such as the traveller finds amidst + the dread silence of Egyptian Thebes. + </p> + <p> + And on this stone lay the gigantic figure of a man,—dead, but not + death-like, for invisible spells had preserved the flesh and the long hair + for untold ages; and beside him lay a rude instrument of music, and at his + feet was a sword and a hunter’s spear; and above, the rock wound, hollowed + and roofless, to the upper air, and daylight came through, sickened and + pale, beneath red fires that burned everlastingly around him, on such + simple altars as belong to a savage race. But the place was not solitary, + for many motionless but not lifeless shapes sat on large blocks of stone + beside the tomb. There was the wizard, wrapped in his long black mantle, + and his face covered with his hands; there was the uncouth and deformed + dwarf, gibbering to himself; there sat the household elf; there glowered + from a gloomy rent in the wall, with glittering eyes and shining scale, + the enormous dragon of the North. An aged crone in rags, leaning on a + staff, and gazing malignantly on the visitors, with bleared but fiery + eyes, stood opposite the tomb of the gigantic dead. And now the fairies + themselves completed the group! But all was dumb and unutterably silent,—the + silence that floats over some antique city of the desert, when, for the + first time for a hundred centuries, a living foot enters its desolate + remains; the silence that belongs to the dust of eld,—deep, solemn, + palpable, and sinking into the heart with a leaden and death-like weight. + Even the English fairy spoke not; she held her breath, and gazing on the + tomb, she saw, in rude vast characters,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE TEUTON. +</pre> + <p> + “<i>We</i> are all that remain of his religion!” said the prince, as they + turned from the dread temple. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE FAIRY’S CAVE, AND THE FAIRY’S WISH. + </h2> + <h3> + IT was evening; and the fairies were dancing beneath the twilight star. + </h3> + <p> + “And why art thou sad, my violet?” said the prince; “for thine eyes seek + the ground!” + </p> + <p> + “Now that I have found thee,” answered the queen, “and now that I feel + what happy love is to a fairy, I sigh over that love which I have lately + witnessed among mortals, but the bud of whose happiness already conceals + the worm. For well didst thou say, my prince, that we are linked with a + mysterious affinity to mankind, and whatever is pure and gentle amongst + them speaks at once to our sympathy, and commands our vigils.” + </p> + <p> + “And most of all,” said the German fairy, “are they who love under our + watch; for love is the golden chain that binds all in the universe: love + lights up alike the star and the glow-worm; and wherever there is love in + men’s lot, lies the secret affinity with men, and with things divine.” + </p> + <p> + “But with the human race,” said Nymphalin, “there is no love that outlasts + the hour, for either death ends, or custom alters. When the blossom comes + to fruit, it is plucked and seen no more; and therefore, when I behold + true love sentenced to an early grave, I comfort myself that I shall not + at least behold the beauty dimmed, and the softness of the heart hardened + into stone. Yet, my prince, while still the pulse can beat, and the warm + blood flow, in that beautiful form which I have watched over of late, let + me not desert her; still let my influence keep the sky fair, and the + breezes pure; still let me drive the vapour from the moon, and the clouds + from the faces of the stars; still let me fill her dreams with tender and + brilliant images, and glass in the mirror of sleep the happiest visions of + fairy-land; still let me pour over her eyes that magic, which suffers them + to see no fault in one in whom she has garnered up her soul! And as death + comes slowly on, still let me rob the spectre of its terror, and the grave + of its sting; so that, all gently and unconscious to herself, life may + glide into the Great Ocean where the shadows lie, and the spirit without + guile may be severed from its mansion without pain!” + </p> + <p> + The wish of the fairy was fulfilled. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.—FROM THE DRACHENFELS TO BROHL.—AN + </h2> + <p> + INCIDENT THAT SUFFICES IN THIS TALE FOR AN EPOCH. + </p> + <p> + FROM the Drachenfels commences the true glory of the Rhine; and once more + Gertrude’s eyes conquered the languor that crept gradually over them as + she gazed on the banks around. + </p> + <p> + Fair blew the breeze, and freshly curled the waters; and Gertrude did not + feel the vulture that had fixed its talons within her breast. The Rhine + widens, like a broad lake, between the Drachenfels and Unkel; villages are + scattered over the extended plain on the left; on the right is the Isle of + Werth and the houses of Oberwinter; the hills are covered with vines; and + still Gertrude turned back with a lingering gaze to the lofty crest of the + Seven Hills. + </p> + <p> + On, on—and the spires of Unkel rose above a curve in the banks, and + on the opposite shore stretched those wondrous basaltic columns which + extend to the middle of the river, and when the Rhine runs low, you may + see them like an engulfed city beneath the waves. You then view the ruins + of Okkenfels, and hear the voice of the pastoral Gasbach pouring its + waters into the Rhine. From amidst the clefts of the rocks the vine peeps + luxuriantly forth, and gives a richness and colouring to what Nature, left + to herself, intended for the stern. + </p> + <p> + “But turn your eye backward to the right,” said Trevylyan; “those banks + were formerly the special haunt of the bold robbers of the Rhine, and from + amidst the entangled brakes that then covered the ragged cliffs they + rushed upon their prey. In the gloomy canvas of those feudal days what + vigorous and mighty images were crowded! A robber’s life amidst these + mountains, and beside this mountain stream, must have been the very poetry + of the spot carried into action.” + </p> + <p> + They rested at Brohl, a small town between two mountains. On the summit of + one you see the gray remains of Rheinech. There is something weird and + preternatural about the aspect of this place; its soil betrays signs that + in the former ages (from which even tradition is fast fading away) some + volcano here exhausted its fires. The stratum of the earth is black and + pitchy, and the springs beneath it are of a dark and graveolent water. + Here the stream of the Brohlbach falls into the Rhine, and in a valley + rich with oak and pine, and full of caverns, which are not without their + traditionary inmates, stands the castle of Schweppenbourg, which our party + failed not to visit. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude felt fatigued on their return, and Trevylyan sat by her in the + little inn, while Vane went forth, with the curiosity of science, to + examine the strata of the soil. + </p> + <p> + They conversed in the frankness of their plighted troth upon those topics + which are only for lovers: upon the bright chapter in the history of their + love; their first meeting; their first impressions; the little incidents + in their present journey,—incidents noticed by themselves alone; + that life <i>within</i> life which two persons know together,—which + one knows not without the other, which ceases to both the instant they are + divided. + </p> + <p> + “I know not what the love of others may be,” said Gertrude, “but ours + seems different from all of which I have read. Books tell us of jealousies + and misconstructions, and the necessity of an absence, the sweetness of a + quarrel; but we, dearest Albert, have had no experience of these passages + in love. <i>We</i> have never misunderstood each other; <i>we</i> have no + reconciliation to look back to. When was there ever occasion for me to ask + forgiveness from you? Our love is made up only of one memory,—unceasing + kindness! A harsh word, a wronging thought, never broke in upon the + happiness we have felt and feel.” + </p> + <p> + “Dearest Gertrude,” said Trevylyan, “that character of our love is caught + from you; you, the soft, the gentle, have been its pervading genius; and + the well has been smooth and pure, for you were the spirit that lived + within its depths.” + </p> + <p> + And to such talk succeeded silence still more sweet,—the silence of + the hushed and overflowing heart. The last voices of the birds, the sun + slowly sinking in the west, the fragrance of descending dews, filled them + with that deep and mysterious sympathy which exists between Love and + Nature. + </p> + <p> + It was after such a silence—a long silence, that seemed but as a + moment—that Trevylyan spoke, but Gertrude answered not; and, + yearning once more for her sweet voice, he turned and saw that she had + fainted away. + </p> + <p> + This was the first indication of the point to which her increasing + debility had arrived. Trevylyan’s heart stood still, and then beat + violently; a thousand fears crept over him; he clasped her in his arms, + and bore her to the open window. The setting sun fell upon her + countenance, from which the play of the young heart and warm fancy had + fled, and in its deep and still repose the ravages of disease were darkly + visible. What were then his emotions! His heart was like stone; but he + felt a rush as of a torrent to his temples: his eyes grew dizzy,—he + was stunned by the greatness of his despair. For the last week he had + taken hope for his companion; Gertrude had seemed so much stronger, for + her happiness had given her a false support. And though there had been + moments when, watching the bright hectic come and go, and her step linger, + and the breath heave short, he had felt the hope suddenly cease, yet never + had he known till now that fulness of anguish, that dread certainty of the + worst, which the calm, fair face before him struck into his soul; and + mixed with this agony as he gazed was all the passion of the most ardent + love. For there she lay in his arms, the gentle breath rising from lips + where the rose yet lingered, and the long, rich hair, soft and silken as + an infant’s, stealing from its confinement: everything that belonged to + Gertrude’s beauty was so inexpressibly soft and pure and youthful! + Scarcely seventeen, she seemed much younger than she was; her figure had + sunken from its roundness, but still how light, how lovely were its + wrecks! the neck whiter than snow, the fair small hand! Her weight was + scarcely felt in the arms of her lover; and he—what a contrast!—was + in all the pride and flower of glorious manhood! His was the lofty brow, + the wreathing hair, the haughty eye, the elastic form; and upon this + frail, perishable thing had he fixed all his heart, all the hopes of his + youth, the pride of his manhood, his schemes, his energies, his ambition! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Gertrude!” cried he, “is it—is it thus—is there indeed no + hope?” + </p> + <p> + And Gertrude now slowly recovering, and opening her eyes upon Trevylyan’s + face, the revulsion was so great, his emotions so overpowering, that, + clasping her to his bosom, as if even death should not tear her away from + him, he wept over her in an agony of tears; not those tears that relieve + the heart, but the fiery rain of the internal storm, a sign of the fierce + tumult that shook the very core of his existence, not a relief. + </p> + <p> + Awakened to herself, Gertrude, in amazement and alarm, threw her arms + around his neck, and, looking wistfully into his face, implored him to + speak to her. + </p> + <p> + “Was it my illness, love?” said she; and the music of her voice only + conveyed to him the thought of how soon it would be dumb to him forever. + “Nay,” she continued winningly, “it was but the heat of the day; I am + better now,—I am well; there is no cause to be alarmed for me!” and + with all the innocent fondness of extreme youth, she kissed the burning + tears from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + There was a playfulness, an innocence in this poor girl, so unconscious as + yet of her destiny, which rendered her fate doubly touching, and which to + the stern Trevylyan, hackneyed by the world, made her irresistible charm; + and now as she put aside her hair, and looked up gratefully, yet + pleadingly, into his face, he could scarce refrain from pouring out to her + the confession of his anguish and despair. But the necessity of + self-control, the necessity of concealing from <i>her</i> a knowledge + which might only, by impressing her imagination, expedite her doom, while + it would embitter to her mind the unconscious enjoyment of the hour, + nerved and manned him. He checked by those violent efforts which only men + can make, the evidence of his emotions; and endeavoured, by a rapid + torrent of words, to divert her attention from a weakness, the causes of + which he could not explain. Fortunately Vane soon returned, and Trevylyan, + consigning Gertrude to his care, hastily left the room. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude sank into a revery. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear father!” said she, suddenly, and after a pause, “if I indeed + were worse than I have thought myself of late, if I were to die now, what + would Trevylyan feel? Pray God I may live for his sake!” + </p> + <p> + “My child, do not talk thus; you are better, much better than you were. + Ere the autumn ends, Trevylyan’s happiness will be your lawful care. Do + not think so despondently of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought not of myself,” sighed Gertrude, “but of <i>him</i>!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. GERTRUDE.—THE EXCURSION TO HAMMERSTEIN.—THOUGHTS. + </h2> + <p> + THE next day they visited the environs of Brohl. Gertrude was unusually + silent; for her temper, naturally sunny and enthusiastic, was accustomed + to light up everything she saw. Ah, once how bounding was that step! how + undulating the young graces of that form! how playfully once danced the + ringlets on that laughing cheek! But she clung to Trevylyan’s proud form + with a yet more endearing tenderness than was her wont, and hung yet more + eagerly on his words; her hand sought his, and she often pressed it to her + lips, and sighed as she did so. Something that she would not tell seemed + passing within her, and sobered her playful mood. But there was this + noticeable in Gertrude: whatever took away from her gayety increased her + tenderness. The infirmities of her frame never touched her temper. She was + kind, gentle, loving to the last. + </p> + <p> + They had crossed to the opposite banks, to visit the Castle of + Hammerstein. The evening was transparently serene and clear; and the + warmth of the sun yet lingered upon the air, even though the twilight had + passed and the moon risen, as their boat returned by a lengthened passage + to the village. Broad and straight flows the Rhine in this part of its + career. On one side lay the wooded village of Namedy, the hamlet of + Fornech, backed by the blue rock of Kruezborner Ley, the mountains that + shield the mysterious Brohl; and on the opposite shore they saw the mighty + rock of Hammerstein, with the green and livid ruins sleeping in the + melancholy moonlight. Two towers rose haughtily above the more dismantled + wrecks. How changed since the alternate banners of the Spaniard and the + Swede waved from their ramparts, in that great war in which the gorgeous + Wallenstein won his laurels! And in its mighty calm flowed on the + ancestral Rhine, the vessel reflected on its smooth expanse; and above, + girded by thin and shadowy clouds, the moon cast her shadows upon rocks + covered with verdure, and brought into a dim light the twin spires of + Andernach, tranquil in the distance. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful is this hour!” said Gertrude, with a low voice, “surely we + do not live enough in the night; one half the beauty of the world is slept + away. What in the day can equal the holy calm, the loveliness, and the + stillness which the moon now casts over the earth? These,” she continued, + pressing Trevylyan’s hand, “are hours to remember; and <i>you</i>—will + you ever forget them?” + </p> + <p> + Something there is in recollections of such times and scenes that seem not + to belong to real life, but are rather an episode in its history; they are + like some wandering into a more ideal world; they refuse to blend with our + ruder associations; they live in us, apart and alone, to be treasured + ever, but not lightly to be recalled. There are none living to whom we can + confide them,—who can sympathize with what then we felt? It is this + that makes poetry, and that page which we create as a confidant to + ourselves, necessary to the thoughts that weigh upon the breast. We write, + for our writing is our friend, the inanimate paper is our confessional; we + pour forth on it the thoughts that we could tell to no private ear, and + are relieved, are consoled. And if genius has one prerogative dearer than + the rest, it is that which enables it to do honour to the dead,—to + revive the beauty, the virtue that are no more; to wreathe chaplets that + outlive the day around the urn which were else forgotten by the world! + </p> + <p> + When the poet mourns, in his immortal verse, for the dead, tell me not + that fame is in his mind! It is filled by thoughts, by emotions that shut + out the living. He is breathing to his genius—to that sole and + constant friend which has grown up with him from his cradle—the + sorrows too delicate for human sympathy! and when afterwards he consigns + the confession to the crowd, it is indeed from the hope of honour—, + honour not for himself, but for the being that is no more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. LETTER FROM TREVYLYAN TO ——-. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + COBLENTZ. +</pre> + <p> + I AM obliged to you, my dear friend, for your letter; which, indeed, I + have not, in the course of our rapid journey, had the leisure, perhaps the + heart, to answer before. But we are staying in this town for some days, + and I write now in the early morning, ere any one else in our hotel is + awake. Do not tell me of adventure, of politics, of intrigues; my nature + is altered. I threw down your letter, animated and brilliant as it was, + with a sick and revolted heart. But I am now in somewhat less dejected + spirits. Gertrude is better,—yes, really better; there is a + physician here who gives me hope; my care is perpetually to amuse, and + never to fatigue her,—never to permit her thoughts to rest upon + herself. For I have imagined that illness cannot, at least in the + unexhausted vigour of our years, fasten upon us irremediably unless we + feed it with our own belief in its existence. You see men of the most + delicate frames engaged in active and professional pursuits, who literally + have no time for illness. Let them become idle, let them take care of + themselves, let them think of their health—and they die! The rust + rots the steel which use preserves; and, thank Heaven, although Gertrude, + once during our voyage, seemed roused, by an inexcusable imprudence of + emotion on my part, into some suspicion of her state, yet it passed away; + for she thinks rarely of herself,—I am ever in her thoughts and + seldom from her side, and you know, too, the sanguine and credulous nature + of her disease. But, indeed, I now hope more than I have done since I knew + her. + </p> + <p> + When, after an excited and adventurous life which had comprised so many + changes in so few years, I found myself at rest in the bosom of a retired + and remote part of the country, and Gertrude and her father were my only + neighbours, I was in that state of mind in which the passions, recruited + by solitude, are accessible to the purer and more divine emotions. I was + struck by Gertrude’s beauty, I was charmed by her simplicity. Worn in the + usages and fashions of the world, the inexperience, the trustfulness, the + exceeding youth of her mind, charmed and touched me; but when I saw the + stamp of our national disease in her bright eye and transparent cheek, I + felt my love chilled while my interest was increased. I fancied myself + safe, and I went daily into the danger; I imagined so pure a light could + not burn, and I was consumed. Not till my anxiety grew into pain, my + interest into terror, did I know the secret of my own heart; and at the + moment that I discovered this secret, I discovered also that Gertrude + loved me! What a destiny was mine! what happiness, yet what misery! + Gertrude was my own—but for what period? I might touch that soft + hand, I might listen to the tenderest confession from that silver voice; + but all the while my heart spoke of passion, my reason whispered of death. + You know that I am considered of a cold and almost callous nature, that I + am not easily moved into affection; but my very pride bowed me here into + weakness. There was so soft a demand upon my protection, so constant an + appeal to my anxiety. You know that my father’s quick temper burns within + me, that I am hot, and stern, and exacting; but one hasty word, one + thought of myself, here were inexcusable. So brief a time might be left + for her earthly happiness,—could I embitter one moment? All that + feeling of uncertainty which should in prudence have prevented my love, + increased it almost to a preternatural excess. That which it is said + mothers feel for an only child in sickness, I feel for Gertrude. <i>My</i> + existence is not!—I exist in her! + </p> + <p> + Her illness increased upon her at home; they have recommended travel. She + chose the course we were to pursue, and, fortunately, it was so familiar + to me, that I have been enabled to brighten the way. I am ever on the + watch that she shall not know a weary hour; you would almost smile to see + how I have roused myself from my habitual silence, and to find me—me, + the scheming and worldly actor of real life—plunged back into the + early romance of my boyhood, and charming the childish delight of Gertrude + with the invention of fables and the traditions of the Rhine. + </p> + <p> + But I believe that I have succeeded in my object; if not, what is left to + me? <i>Gertrude is better!</i>—In that sentence what visions of hope + dawn upon me! I wish you could have seen Gertrude before we left England; + you might then have understood my love for her. Not that we have not, in + the gay capitals of Europe, paid our brief vows to forms more richly + beautiful; not that we have not been charmed by a more brilliant genius, + by a more tutored grace. But there is that in Gertrude which I never saw + before,—the union of the childish and the intellectual, an ethereal + simplicity, a temper that is never dimmed, a tenderness—O God! let + me not speak of her virtues, for they only tell me how little she is + suited to the earth. + </p> + <p> + You will direct to me at Mayence, whither our course now leads us, and + your friendship will find indulgence for a letter that is so little a + reply to yours. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your sincere friend, + + A. G. TREVYLYAN. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. COBLENTZ.—EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAINS OF TAUNUS; ROMAN + </h2> + <p> + TOWER IN THE VALLEY OF EHRENBREITSTEIN.—TRAVEL, ITS PLEASURES + ESTIMATED DIFFERENTLY BY THE YOUNG AND THE OLD.—THE STUDENT OF + HEIDELBERG; HIS CRITICISMS ON GERMAN LITERATURE. + </p> + <p> + GERTRUDE had, indeed, apparently rallied during their stay at Coblentz; + and a French physician established in the town (who adopted a peculiar + treatment for consumption, which had been attended with no ordinary + success) gave her father and Trevylyan a sanguine assurance of her + ultimate recovery. The time they passed within the white walls of Coblentz + was, therefore, the happiest and most cheerful part of their pilgrimage. + They visited the various places in its vicinity; but the excursion which + most delighted Gertrude was one to the mountains of Taunus. + </p> + <p> + They took advantage of a beautiful September day; and, crossing the river, + commenced their tour from the Thal, or valley of Ehrenbreitstein. They + stopped on their way to view the remains of a Roman tower in the valley; + for the whole of that district bears frequent witness of the ancient + conquerors of the world. The mountains of Taunus are still intersected + with the roads which the Romans cut to the mines that supplied them with + silver. Roman urns and inscribed stones are often found in these ancient + places. The stones, inscribed with names utterly unknown,—a type of + the uncertainty of fame! the urns, from which the dust is gone, a very + satire upon life! + </p> + <p> + Lone, gray, and mouldering, this tower stands aloft in the valley; and the + quiet Vane smiled to see the uniform of a modern Prussian, with his white + belt and lifted bayonet, by the spot which had once echoed to the clang of + the Roman arms. The soldier was paying a momentary court to a country + damsel, whose straw hat and rustic dress did not stifle the vanity of the + sex; and this rude and humble gallantry, in that spot, was another moral + in the history of human passions. Above, the ramparts of a modern rule + frowned down upon the solitary tower, as if in the vain insolence with + which present power looks upon past decay,—the living race upon + ancestral greatness. And indeed, in this respect, rightly! for modern + times have no parallel to that degradation of human dignity stamped upon + the ancient world by the long sway of the Imperial Harlot, all slavery + herself, yet all tyranny to earth; and, like her own Messalina, at once a + prostitute and an empress! + </p> + <p> + They continued their course by the ancient baths of Ems, and keeping by + the banks of the romantic Lahn, arrived at Holzapfel. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Gertrude, one day, as they proceeded to the springs of the + Carlovingian Wiesbaden, “surely perpetual travel with those we love must + be the happiest state of existence! If home has its comforts, it also has + its cares; but here we are at home with Nature, and the minor evils vanish + almost before they are felt.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Trevylyan, “we escape from ‘THE LITTLE,’ which is the curse + of life; the small cares that devour us up, the grievances of the day. We + are feeding the divinest part of our nature,—the appetite to + admire.” + </p> + <p> + “But of all things wearisome,” said Vane, “a succession of changes is the + most. There can be a monotony in variety itself. As the eye aches in + gazing long at the new shapes of the kaleidoscope, the mind aches at the + fatigue of a constant alternation of objects; and we delightedly return to + ‘REST,’ which is to life what green is to the earth.” + </p> + <p> + In the course of their sojourn among the various baths of Taunus, they + fell in, by accident, with a German student of Heidelberg, who was + pursuing the pedestrian excursions so peculiarly favoured by his tribe. He + was tamer and gentler than the general herd of those young wanderers, and + our party were much pleased with his enthusiasm, because it was + unaffected. He had been in England, and spoke its language almost as a + native. + </p> + <p> + “Our literature,” said he, one day, conversing with Vane, “has two faults,—we + are too subtle and too homely. We do not speak enough to the broad + comprehension of mankind; we are forever making abstract qualities of + flesh and blood. Our critics have turned your ‘Hamlet’ into an allegory; + they will not even allow Shakspeare to paint mankind, but insist on his + embodying qualities. They turn poetry into metaphysics, and truth seems to + them shallow, unless an allegory, which is false, can be seen at the + bottom. Again, too, with our most imaginative works we mix a homeliness + that we fancy touching, but which in reality is ludicrous. We eternally + step from the sublime to the ridiculous; we want taste.” + </p> + <p> + “But not, I hope, French taste. Do not govern a Goethe, or even a Richter, + by a Boileau!” said Trevylyan. + </p> + <p> + “No; but Boileau’s taste was false. Men who have the reputation for good + taste often acquire it solely because of the want of genius. By taste I + mean a quick tact into the harmony of composition, the art of making the + whole consistent with its parts, the <i>concinnitas</i>. Schiller alone of + our authors has it. But we are fast mending; and by following shadows so + long we have been led at last to the substance. Our past literature is to + us what astrology was to science,—false but ennobling, and + conducting us to the true language of the intellectual heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Another time the scenes they passed, interspersed with the ruins of + frequent monasteries, leading them to converse on the monastic life, and + the various additions time makes to religion, the German said: “Perhaps + one of the works most wanted in the world is the history of Religion. We + have several books, it is true, on the subject, but none that supply the + want I allude to. A German ought to write it; for it is, probably, only a + German that would have the requisite learning. A German only, too, is + likely to treat the mighty subject with boldness, and yet with veneration; + without the shallow flippancy of the Frenchman, without the timid + sectarianism of the English. It would be a noble task, to trace the + winding mazes of antique falsehood; to clear up the first glimmerings of + divine truth; to separate Jehovah’s word from man’s invention; to + vindicate the All-merciful from the dread creeds of bloodshed and of fear: + and, watching in the great Heaven of Truth the dawning of the True Star, + follow it—like the Magi of the East—till it rested above the + real God. Not indeed presuming to such a task,” continued the German, with + a slight blush, “I have about me a humble essay, which treats only of one + part of that august subject; which, leaving to a loftier genius the + history of the true religion, may be considered as the history of a false + one,—of such a creed as Christianity supplanted in the North; or + such as may perhaps be found among the fiercest of the savage tribes. It + is a fiction—as you may conceive; but yet, by a constant reference + to the early records of human learning, I have studied to weave it up from + truths. If you would like to hear it,—it is very short—” + </p> + <p> + “Above all things,” said Vane; and the German drew a manuscript neatly + bound from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “After having myself criticised so insolently the faults of our national + literature,” said he, smiling, “you will have a right to criticise the + faults that belong to so humble a disciple of it; but you will see that, + though I have commenced with the allegorical or the supernatural, I have + endeavoured to avoid the subtlety of conceit, and the obscurity of design, + which I blame in the wilder of our authors. As to the style, I wished to + suit it to the subject; it ought to be, unless I err, rugged and massive,—hewn, + as it were, out of the rock of primeval language. But you, madam—doubtless + you do not understand German?” + </p> + <p> + “Her mother was an Austrian,” said Vane; “and she knows at least enough of + the tongue to understand you; so pray begin.” + </p> + <p> + Without further preface, the German then commenced the story, which the + reader will find translated* in the next chapter. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Nevertheless I beg to state seriously, that the German student + is an impostor; and that he has no right to wrest the parentage + of the fiction from the true author. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE FALLEN STAR; OR THE HISTORY OF A FALSE RELIGION. + </h2> + <p> + AND the STARS sat, each on his ruby throne, and watched with sleepless + eyes upon the world. It was the night ushering in the new year, a night on + which every star receives from the archangel that then visits the + universal galaxy its peculiar charge. The destinies of men and empires are + then portioned forth for the coming year, and, unconsciously to ourselves, + our fates become minioned to the stars. A hushed and solemn night is that + in which the dark gates of time open to receive the ghost of the Dead + Year, and the young and radiant Stranger rushes forth from the clouded + chasms of Eternity. On that night, it is said that there are given to the + spirits that we see not a privilege and a power; the dead are troubled in + their forgotten graves, and men feast and laugh, while demon and angel are + contending for their doom. + </p> + <p> + It was night in heaven; all was unutterably silent; the music of the + spheres had paused, and not a sound came from the angels of the stars; and + they who sat upon those shining thrones were three thousand and ten, each + resembling each. Eternal youth clothed their radiant limbs with celestial + beauty, and on their faces was written the dread of calm,—that + fearful stillness which feels not, sympathizes not with the doom over + which it broods. War, tempest, pestilence, the rise of empires and their + fall, they ordain, they compass, unexultant and uncompassionate. The fell + and thrilling crimes that stalk abroad when the world sleeps,—the + parricide with his stealthy step and horrent brow and lifted knife; the + unwifed mother that glides out and looks behind, and behind, and shudders, + and casts her babe upon the river, and hears the wail, and pities not—the + splash, and does not tremble,—these the starred kings behold, to + these they lead the unconscious step; but the guilt blanches not their + lustre, neither doth remorse wither their unwrinkled youth. Each star wore + a kingly diadem; round the loins of each was a graven belt, graven with + many and mighty signs; and the foot of each was on a burning ball, and the + right arm drooped over the knee as they bent down from their thrones. They + moved not a limb or feature, save the finger of the right hand, which ever + and anon moved slowly pointing, and regulated the fates of men as the hand + of the dial speaks the career of time. + </p> + <p> + One only of the three thousand and ten wore not the same aspect as his + crowned brethren,—a star smaller than the rest, and less luminous; + the countenance of this star was not impressed with the awful calmness of + the others, but there were sullenness and discontent upon his mighty brow. + </p> + <p> + And this star said to himself, “Behold! I am created less glorious than my + fellows, and the archangel apportions not to me the same lordly destinies. + Not for me are the dooms of kings and bards, the rulers of empires, or, + yet nobler, the swayers and harmonists of souls. Sluggish are the spirits + and base the lot of the men I am ordained to lead through a dull life to a + fameless grave. And wherefore? Is it mine own fault, or is it the fault + which is not mine, that I was woven of beams less glorious than my + brethren? Lo! when the archangel comes, I will bow not my crowned head to + his decrees. I will speak, as the ancestral Lucifer before me: <i>he</i> + rebelled because of his glory, <i>I</i> because of my obscurity; <i>he</i> + from the ambition of pride, and <i>I</i> from its discontent.” + </p> + <p> + And while the star was thus communing with himself, the upward heavens + were parted as by a long river of light, and adown that stream swiftly, + and without sound, sped the archangel visitor of the stars. His vast limbs + floated in the liquid lustre, and his outspread wings, each plume the + glory of a sun, bore him noiselessly along; but thick clouds veiled his + lustre from the eyes of mortals, and while above all was bathed in the + serenity of his splendour, tempest and storm broke below over the children + of the earth: “He bowed the heavens and came down, and darkness was under + his feet.” + </p> + <p> + And the stillness on the faces of the stars became yet more still, and the + awfulness was humbled into awe. Right above their thrones paused the + course of the archangel; and his wings stretched from east to west, + overshadowing with the shadow of light the immensity of space. Then forth, + in the shining stillness, rolled the dread music of his voice: and, + fulfilling the heraldry of God, to each star he appointed the duty and the + charge; and each star bowed his head yet lower as he heard the fiat, while + his throne rocked and trembled at the Majesty of the Word. But at last, + when each of the brighter stars had, in succession, received the mandate, + and the viceroyalty over the nations of the earth, the purple and diadems + of kings, the archangel addressed the lesser star as he sat apart from his + fellows. + </p> + <p> + “Behold,” said the archangel, “the rude tribes of the North, the fishermen + of the river that flows beneath, and the hunters of the forests that + darken the mountain tops with verdure! these be thy charge, and their + destinies thy care. Nor deem thou, O Star of the sullen beams, that thy + duties are less glorious than the duties of thy brethren; for the peasant + is not less to thy master and mine than the monarch; nor doth the doom of + empires rest more upon the sovereign than on the herd. The passions and + the heart are the dominion of the stars,—a mighty realm; nor less + mighty beneath the hide that garbs the shepherd than under the jewelled + robes of the eastern kings.” + </p> + <p> + Then the star lifted his pale front from his breast, and answered the + archangel. + </p> + <p> + “Lo!” he said, “ages have passed, and each year thou hast appointed me to + the same ignoble charge. Release me, I pray thee, from the duties that I + scorn; or, if thou wilt that the lowlier race of men be my charge, give + unto me the charge not of many, but of one, and suffer me to breathe into + him the desire that spurns the valleys of life, and ascends its steeps. If + the humble are given to me, let there be amongst them one whom I may lead + on the mission that shall abase the proud; for, behold, O Appointer of the + Stars, as I have sat for uncounted years upon my solitary throne, brooding + over the things beneath, my spirit hath gathered wisdom from the changes + that shift below. Looking upon the tribes of earth, I have seen how the + multitude are swayed, and tracked the steps that lead weakness into power; + and fain would I be the ruler of one who, if abased, shall aspire to + rule.” + </p> + <p> + As a sudden cloud over the face of noon was the change on the brow of the + archangel. + </p> + <p> + “Proud and melancholy star,” said the herald, “thy wish would war with the + courses of the invisible DESTINY, that, throned far above, sways and + harmonizes all,—the source from which the lesser rivers of fate are + eternally gushing through the heart of the universe of things. Thinkest + thou that thy wisdom, of itself, can lead the peasant to become a king?” + </p> + <p> + And the crowned star gazed undauntedly on the face of the archangel, and + answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Yea! Grant me but one trial!” + </p> + <p> + Ere the archangel could reply, the farthest centre of the Heaven was rent + as by a thunderbolt; and the divine herald covered his face with his + hands, and a voice low and sweet and mild, with the consciousness of + unquestionable power, spoke forth to the repining star. + </p> + <p> + “The time has arrived when thou mayest have thy wish. Below thee, upon yon + solitary plain, sits a mortal, gloomy as thyself, who, born under thy + influence, may be moulded to thy will.” + </p> + <p> + The voice ceased as the voice of a dream. Silence was over the seas of + space, and the archangel, once more borne aloft, slowly soared away into + the farther heaven, to promulgate the divine bidding to the stars of + far-distant worlds. But the soul of the discontented star exulted within + itself; and it said, “I will call forth a king from the valley of the + herdsman that shall trample on the kings subject to my fellows, and render + the charge of the contemned star more glorious than the minions of its + favoured brethren; thus shall I revenge neglect! thus shall I prove my + claim hereafter to the heritage of the great of earth!” + </p> + <p> + ....... + </p> + <p> + At that time, though the world had rolled on for ages, and the pilgrimage + of man had passed through various states of existence, which our dim + traditionary knowledge has not preserved, yet the condition of our race in + the northern hemisphere was then what we, in our imperfect lore, have + conceived to be among the earliest. + </p> + <p> + ....... + </p> + <p> + By a rude and vast pile of stones, the masonry of arts forgotten, a lonely + man sat at midnight, gazing upon the heavens. A storm had just passed from + the earth; the clouds had rolled away, and the high stars looked down upon + the rapid waters of the Rhine; and no sound save the roar of the waves, + and the dripping of the rain from the mighty trees, was heard around the + ruined pile. The white sheep lay scattered on the plain, and slumber with + them. He sat watching over the herd, lest the foes of a neighbouring tribe + seized them unawares, and thus he communed with himself: “The king sits + upon his throne, and is honoured by a warrior race, and the warrior exults + in the trophies he has won; the step of the huntsman is bold upon the + mountain-top, and his name is sung at night round the pine-fires by the + lips of the bard; and the bard himself hath honour in the hall. But I, who + belong not to the race of kings, and whose limbs can bound not to the + rapture of war, nor scale the eyries of the eagle and the haunts of the + swift stag; whose hand cannot string the harp, and whose voice is harsh in + the song,—<i>I</i> have neither honour nor command, and men bow not + the head as I pass along; yet do I feel within me the consciousness of a + great power that should rule my species—not obey. My eye pierces the + secret hearts of men. I see their thoughts ere their lips proclaim them; + and I scorn, while I see, the weakness and the vices which I never shared. + I laugh at the madness of the warrior; I mock within my soul at the + tyranny of kings. Surely there is something in man’s nature more fitted to + command, more worthy of renown, than the sinews of the arm, or the + swiftness of the feet, or the accident of birth!” + </p> + <p> + As Morven, the son of Osslah, thus mused within himself, still looking at + the heavens, the solitary man beheld a star suddenly shooting from its + place, and speeding through the silent air, till it suddenly paused right + over the midnight river, and facing the inmate of the pile of stones. + </p> + <p> + As he gazed upon the star, strange thoughts grew slowly over him. He + drank, as it were, from its solemn aspect the spirit of a great design. A + dark cloud rapidly passing over the earth snatched the star from his + sight, but left to his awakened mind the thoughts and the dim scheme that + had come to him as he gazed. + </p> + <p> + When the sun arose, one of his brethren relieved him of his charge over + the herd, and he went away, but not to his father’s home. Musingly he + plunged into the dark and leafless recesses of the winter forest; and + shaped out of his wild thoughts, more palpably and clearly, the outline of + his daring hope. While thus absorbed he heard a great noise in the forest, + and, fearful lest the hostile tribe of the Alrich might pierce that way, + he ascended one of the loftiest pine-trees, to whose perpetual verdure the + winter had not denied the shelter he sought; and, concealed by its + branches, he looked anxiously forth in the direction whence the noise had + proceeded. And IT came,—it came with a tramp and a crash, and a + crushing tread upon the crunched boughs and matted leaves that strewed the + soil; it came, it came,—the monster that the world now holds no + more,—the mighty Mammoth of the North! Slowly it moved its huge + strength along, and its burning eyes glittered through the gloomy shade; + its jaws, falling apart, showed the grinders with which it snapped asunder + the young oaks of the forest; and the vast tusks, which, curved downward + to the midst of its massive limbs, glistened white and ghastly, curdling + the blood of one destined hereafter to be the dreadest ruler of the men of + that distant age. + </p> + <p> + The livid eyes of the monster fastened on the form of the herdsman, even + amidst the thick darkness of the pine. It paused, it glared upon him; its + jaws opened, and a low deep sound, as of gathering thunder, seemed to the + son of Osslah as the knell of a dreadful grave. But after glaring on him + for some moments, it again, and calmly, pursued its terrible way, crashing + the boughs as it marched along, till the last sound of its heavy tread + died away upon his ear.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>The Critic</i> will perceive that this sketch of the beast, whose + race has perished, is mainly intended to designate the remote + period of the world in which the tale is cast. +</pre> + <p> + Ere yet, however, Morven summoned the courage to descend the tree, he saw + the shining of arms through the bare branches of the wood, and presently a + small band of the hostile Alrich came into sight. He was perfectly hidden + from them; and, listening as they passed him, he heard one say to another,— + </p> + <p> + “The night covers all things; why attack them by day?” + </p> + <p> + And he who seemed the chief of the band, answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Right. To-night, when they sleep in their city, we will upon them. Lo! + they will be drenched in wine, and fall like sheep into our hands.” + </p> + <p> + “But where, O chief,” said a third of the band, “shall our men hide during + the day? for there are many hunters among the youth of the Oestrich tribe, + and they might see us in the forest unawares, and arm their race against + our coming.” + </p> + <p> + “I have prepared for that,” answered the chief. “Is not the dark cavern of + Oderlin at hand? Will it not shelter us from the eyes of the victims?” + </p> + <p> + Then the men laughed, and, shouting, they went their way adown the forest. + </p> + <p> + When they were gone, Morven cautiously descended, and, striking into a + broad path, hastened to a vale that lay between the forest and the river + in which was the city where the chief of his country dwelt. As he passed + by the warlike men, giants in that day, who thronged the streets (if + streets they might be called), their half garments parting from their huge + limbs, the quiver at their backs, and the hunting spear in their hand, + they laughed and shouted out, and, pointing to him, cried, “Morven the + woman! Morven the cripple! what dost thou among men?” + </p> + <p> + For the son of Osslah was small in stature and of slender strength, and + his step had halted from his birth; but he passed through the warriors + unheedingly. At the outskirts of the city he came upon a tall pile in + which some old men dwelt by themselves, and counselled the king when times + of danger, or when the failure of the season, the famine or the drought, + perplexed the ruler, and clouded the savage fronts of his warrior tribe. + </p> + <p> + They gave the counsels of experience, and when experience failed, they + drew, in their believing ignorance, assurances and omens from the winds of + heaven, the changes of the moon, and the flights of the wandering birds. + Filled—by the voices of the elements, and the variety of mysteries, + which ever shift along the face of things, unsolved by the wonder which + pauses not, the fear which believes, and that eternal reasoning of all + experience, which assigns causes to effect—with the notion of + superior powers, they assisted their ignorance by the conjectures of their + superstition. But as yet they knew no craft and practised no <i>voluntary</i> + delusion; they trembled too much at the mysteries which had created their + faith to seek to belie them. They counselled as they believed, and the + bold dream of governing their warriors and their kings by the wisdom of + deceit had never dared to cross men thus worn and gray with age. + </p> + <p> + The son of Osslah entered the vast pile with a fearless step, and + approached the place at the upper end of the hall where the old men sat in + conclave. + </p> + <p> + “How, base-born and craven-limbed!” cried the eldest, who had been a noted + warrior in his day, “darest thou enter unsummoned amidst the secret + councils of the wise men? Knowest thou not, scatterling! that the penalty + is death?” + </p> + <p> + “Slay me, if thou wilt,” answered Morven, “but hear! As I sat last night + in the ruined palace of our ancient kings, tending, as my father bade me, + the sheep that grazed around, lest the fierce tribe of Alrich should + descend unseen from the mountains upon the herd, a storm came darkly on; + and when the storm had ceased, and I looked above on the sky, I saw a star + descend from its height towards me, and a voice from the star said: ‘Son + of Osslah, leave thy herd and seek the council of the wise men and say + unto them, that they take thee as one of their number, or that sudden will + be the destruction of them and theirs.’ But I had courage to answer the + voice, and I said, ‘Mock not the poor son of the herdsman. Behold, they + will kill me if I utter so rash a word, for I am poor and valueless in the + eyes of the tribe of Oestrich, and the great in deeds and the gray of hair + alone sit in the council of the wise men.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then the voice said: ‘Do my bidding, and I will give thee a token that + thou comest from the Powers that sway the seasons and sail upon the eagles + of the winds. Say unto the wise men this very night if they refuse to + receive thee of their band, evil shall fall upon them, and the morrow + shall dawn in blood.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then the voice ceased, and the cloud passed over the star; and I communed + with myself, and came, O dread father, mournfully unto you; for I feared + that ye would smite me because of my bold tongue, and that ye would + sentence me to the death, in that I asked what may scarce be given even to + the sons of kings.” + </p> + <p> + Then the grim elders looked one at the other, and marvelled much, nor knew + they what answer they should make to the herdsman’s son. + </p> + <p> + At length one of the wise men said, “Surely there must be truth in the son + of Osslah, for he would not dare to falsify the great lights of Heaven. If + he had given unto men the words of the star, verily we might doubt the + truth. But who would brave the vengeance of the gods of night?” + </p> + <p> + Then the elders shook their heads approvingly; but one answered and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Shall we take the herdsman’s son as our equal? No!” The name of the man + who thus answered was Darvan, and his words were pleasing to the elders. + </p> + <p> + But Morven spoke out: “Of a truth, O councillors of kings, I look not to + be an equal with yourselves. Enough if I tend the gates of your palace, + and serve you as the son of Osslah may serve;” and he bowed his head + humbly as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + Then said the chief of the elders, for he was wiser than the others, “But + how wilt thou deliver us from the evil that is to come? Doubtless the star + has informed thee of the service thou canst render to us if we take thee + into our palace, as well as the ill that will fall on us if we refuse.” + </p> + <p> + Morven answered meekly, “Surely, if thou acceptest thy servant, the star + will teach him that which may requite thee; but as yet he knows only what + he has uttered.” + </p> + <p> + Then the sages bade him withdraw, and they communed with themselves, and + they differed much; but though fierce men, and bold at the war-cry of a + human foe, they shuddered at the prophecy of a star. So they resolved to + take the son of Osslah, and suffer him to keep the gate of the + council-hall. + </p> + <p> + He heard their decree and bowed his head, and went to the gate, and sat + down by it in silence. + </p> + <p> + And the sun went down in the west, and the first stars of the twilight + began to glimmer, when Morven started from his seat, and a trembling + appeared to seize his limbs. His lips foamed; an agony and a fear + possessed him; he writhed as a man whom the spear of a foeman has pierced + with a mortal wound, and suddenly fell upon his face on the stony earth. + </p> + <p> + The elders approached him; wondering, they lifted him up. He slowly + recovered as from a swoon; his eyes rolled wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Heard ye not the voice of the star?” he said. + </p> + <p> + And the chief of the elders answered, “Nay, we heard no sound.” + </p> + <p> + Then Morven sighed heavily. + </p> + <p> + “To me only the word was given. Summon instantly, O councillors of the + king, summon the armed men, and all the youth of the tribe, and let them + take the sword and the spear, and follow thy servant! For lo! the star + hath announced to him that the foe shall fall into our hands as the wild + beasts of the forests.” + </p> + <p> + The son of Osslah spoke with the voice of command, and the elders were + amazed. “Why pause ye?” he cried. “Do the gods of the night lie? On my + head rest the peril if I deceive ye.” + </p> + <p> + Then the elders communed together; and they went forth and summoned the + men of arms, and all the young of the tribe; and each man took the sword + and the spear, and Morven also. And the son of Osslah walked first, still + looking up at the star, and he motioned them to be silent, and moved with + a stealthy step. + </p> + <p> + So they went through the thickest of the forest, till they came to the + mouth of a great cave, overgrown with aged and matted trees, and it was + called the Cave of Oberlin; and he bade the leaders place the armed men on + either side the cave, to the right and to the left, among the bushes. + </p> + <p> + So they watched silently till the night deepened, when they heard a noise + in the cave and the sound of feet, and forth came an armed man; and the + spear of Morven pierced him, and he fell dead at the mouth of the cave. + Another and another, and both fell! Then loud and long was heard the + war-cry of Alrich, and forth poured, as a stream over a narrow bed, the + river of armed men. And the sons of Oestrich fell upon them, and the foe + were sorely perplexed and terrified by the suddenness of the battle and + the darkness of the night; and there was a great slaughter. + </p> + <p> + And when the morning came, the children of Oestrich counted the slain, and + found the leader of Alrich and the chief men of the tribe amongst them; + and great was the joy thereof. So they went back in triumph to the city, + and they carried the brave son of Osslah on their shoulders, and shouted + forth, “Glory to the servant of the star.” + </p> + <p> + And Morven dwelt in the council of the wise men. + </p> + <p> + Now the king of the tribe had one daughter, and she was stately amongst + the women of the tribe, and fair to look upon. And Morven gazed upon her + with the eyes of love, but he did not dare to speak. + </p> + <p> + Now the son of Osslah laughed secretly at the foolishness of men; he loved + them not, for they had mocked him; he honoured them not, for he had + blinded the wisest of their leaders. He shunned their feasts and + merriment, and lived apart and solitary. The austerity of his life + increased the mysterious homage which his commune with the stars had won + him, and the boldest of the warriors bowed his head to the favourite of + the gods. + </p> + <p> + One day he was wandering by the side of the river, and he saw a large bird + of prey rise from the waters, and give chase to a hawk that had not yet + gained the full strength of its wings. From his youth the solitary Morven + had loved to watch, in the great forests and by the banks of the mighty + stream, the habits of the things which nature has submitted to man; and + looking now on the birds, he said to himself, “Thus is it ever; by cunning + or by strength each thing wishes to master its kind.” While thus + moralizing, the larger bird had stricken down the hawk, and it fell + terrified and panting at his feet. Morven took the hawk in his hands, and + the vulture shrieked above him, wheeling nearer and nearer to its + protected prey; but Morven scared away the vulture, and placing the hawk + in his bosom he carried it home, and tended it carefully, and fed it from + his hand until it had regained its strength; and the hawk knew him, and + followed him as a dog. And Morven said, smiling to himself, “Behold, the + credulous fools around me put faith in the flight and motion of birds. I + will teach this poor hawk to minister to my ends.” So he tamed the bird, + and tutored it according to its nature; but he concealed it carefully from + others, and cherished it in secret. + </p> + <p> + The king of the country was old, and like to die, and the eyes of the + tribe were turned to his two sons, nor knew they which was the worthier to + reign. And Morven, passing through the forest one evening, saw the younger + of the two, who was a great hunter, sitting mournfully under an oak, and + looking with musing eyes upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Wherefore musest thou, O swift-footed Siror?” said the son of Osslah; + “and wherefore art thou sad?” + </p> + <p> + “Thou canst not assist me,” answered the prince, sternly; “take thy way.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” answered Morven, “thou knowest not what thou sayest; am I not the + favourite of the stars?” + </p> + <p> + “Away, I am no graybeard whom the approach of death makes doting: talk not + to me of the stars; I know only the things that my eye sees and my ear + drinks in.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush,” said Morven, solemnly, and covering his face; “hush! lest the + heavens avenge thy rashness. But, behold, the stars have given unto me to + pierce the secret hearts of others; and I can tell thee the thoughts of + thine.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak out, base-born!” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art the younger of two, and thy name is less known in war than the + name of thy brother: yet wouldst thou desire to be set over his head, and + to sit on the high seat of thy father?” + </p> + <p> + The young man turned pale. “Thou hast truth in thy lips,” said he, with a + faltering voice. + </p> + <p> + “Not from me, but from the stars, descends the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Can the stars grant my wish?” + </p> + <p> + “They can: let us meet to-morrow.” Thus saying, Morven passed into the + forest. + </p> + <p> + The next day, at noon, they met again. + </p> + <p> + “I have consulted the gods of night, and they have given me the power that + I prayed for, but on one condition.” + </p> + <p> + “Name it.” + </p> + <p> + “That thou sacrifice thy sister on their altars; thou must build up a heap + of stones, and take thy sister into the wood, and lay her on the pile, and + plunge thy sword into her heart; so only shalt thou reign.” + </p> + <p> + The prince shuddered, and started to his feet, and shook his spear at the + pale front of Morven. + </p> + <p> + “Tremble,” said the son of Osslah, with a loud voice. “Hark to the gods + who threaten thee with death, that thou hast dared to lift thine arm + against their servant!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, the thunder rolled above; for one of the frequent storms of + the early summer was about to break. The spear dropped from the prince’s + hand; he sat down, and cast his eyes on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Wilt thou do the bidding of the stars, and reign?” said Morven. + </p> + <p> + “I will!” cried Siror, with a desperate voice. + </p> + <p> + “This evening, then, when the sun sets, thou wilt lead her hither, alone; + I may not attend thee. Now, let us pile the stones.” + </p> + <p> + Silently the huntsman bent his vast strength to the fragments of rock that + Morven pointed to him, and they built the altar, and went their way. + </p> + <p> + And beautiful is the dying of the great sun, when the last song of the + birds fades into the lap of silence; when the islands of the cloud are + bathed in light, and the first star springs up over the grave of day! + </p> + <p> + “Whither leadest thou my steps, my brother?” said Orna; “and why doth thy + lip quiver; and why dost thou turn away thy face?” + </p> + <p> + “Is not the forest beautiful; does it not tempt us forth, my sister?” + </p> + <p> + “And wherefore are those heaps of stone piled together?” + </p> + <p> + “Let others answer; I piled them not.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou tremblest, brother: we will return.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so; by these stones is a bird that my shaft pierced today,—a + bird of beautiful plumage that I slew for thee.” + </p> + <p> + “We are by the pile; where hast thou laid the bird?” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” cried Siror; and he seized the maiden in his arms, and, casting + her on the rude altar, he drew forth his sword to smite her to the heart. + </p> + <p> + Right over the stones rose a giant oak, the growth of immemorial ages; and + from the oak, or from the heavens, broke forth a loud and solemn voice, + “Strike not, son of kings! the stars forbear their own: the maiden thou + shalt not slay; yet shalt thou reign over the race of Oestrich; and thou + shalt give Orna as a bride to the favourite of the stars. Arise, and go + thy way!” + </p> + <p> + The voice ceased: the terror of Orna had overpowered for a time the + springs of life; and Siror bore her home through the wood in his strong + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said Morven, when, at the next day, he again met the aspiring + prince; “alas! the stars have ordained me a lot which my heart desires + not: for I, lonely of life, and crippled of shape, am insensible to the + fires of love; and ever, as thou and thy tribe know, I have shunned the + eyes of women, for the maidens laughed at my halting step and my sullen + features; and so in my youth I learned betimes to banish all thoughts of + love. But since they told me (as they declared to <i>thee</i>), that only + through that marriage, thou, O beloved prince! canst obtain thy father’s + plumed crown, I yield me to their will.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the prince, “not until I am king can I give thee my sister in + marriage; for thou knowest that my sire would smite me to the dust if I + asked him to give the flower of our race to the son of the herdsman + Osslah.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou speakest the words of truth. Go home and fear not; but, when thou + art king, the sacrifice must be made, and Orna mine. Alas! how can I dare + to lift mine eyes to her! But so ordain the dread kings of the night!—who + shall gainsay their word?” + </p> + <p> + “The day that sees me king sees Orna thine,” answered the prince. + </p> + <p> + Morven walked forth, as was his wont, alone; and he said to himself, “The + king is old, yet may he live long between me and mine hope!” and he began + to cast in his mind how he might shorten the time. Thus absorbed, he + wandered on so unheedingly that night advanced, and he had lost his path + among the thick woods and knew not how to regain his home. So he lay down + quietly beneath a tree, and rested till day dawned; then hunger came upon + him, and he searched among the bushes for such simple roots as those with + which, for he was ever careless of food, he was used to appease the + cravings of nature. + </p> + <p> + He found, among other more familiar herbs and roots, a red berry of a + sweetish taste, which he had never observed before. He ate of it + sparingly, and had not proceeded far in the wood before he found his eyes + swim, and a deadly sickness came over him. For several hours he lay + convulsed on the ground, expecting death; but the gaunt spareness of his + frame, and his unvarying abstinence, prevailed over the poison, and he + recovered slowly, and after great anguish. But he went with feeble steps + back to the spot where the berries grew, and, plucking several, hid them + in his bosom, and by nightfall regained the city. + </p> + <p> + The next day he went forth among his father’s herds, and seizing a lamb, + forced some of the berries into his stomach, and the lamb, escaping, ran + away, and fell down dead. Then Morven took some more of the berries and + boiled them down, and mixed the juice with wine, and he gave the wine in + secret to one of his father’s servants, and the servant died. + </p> + <p> + Then Morven sought the king, and coming into his presence, alone, he said + unto him, “How fares my lord?” + </p> + <p> + The king sat on a couch made of the skins of wolves, and his eye was + glassy and dim; but vast were his aged limbs, and huge was his stature, + and he had been taller by a head than the children of men, and none living + could bend the bow he had bent in youth; gray, gaunt, and worn, as some + mighty bones that are dug at times from the bosom of the earth,—a + relic of the strength of old. + </p> + <p> + And the king said faintly, and with a ghastly laugh, “The men of my years + fare ill. What avails my strength? Better had I been born a cripple like + thee, so should I have had nothing to lament in growing old.” + </p> + <p> + The red flush passed over Morven’s brow; but he bent humbly,— + </p> + <p> + “O king, what if I could give thee back thy youth? What if I could restore + to thee the vigour which distinguished thee above the sons of men, when + the warriors of Alrich fell like grass before thy sword?” + </p> + <p> + Then the king uplifted his dull eyes, and he said,— + </p> + <p> + “What meanest thou, son of Osslah? Surely I hear much of thy great wisdom, + and how thou speakest nightly with the stars. Can the gods of the night + give unto thee the secret to make the old young?” + </p> + <p> + “Tempt them not by doubt,” said Morven, reverently. “All things are + possible to the rulers of the dark hour; and, lo! the star that loves thy + servant spake to him at the dead of night, and said, ‘Arise, and go unto + the king; and tell him that the stars honour the tribe of Oestrich, and + remember how the king bent his bow against the sons of Alrich; wherefore, + look thou under the stone that lies to the right of thy dwelling, even + beside the pine tree, and thou shalt see a vessel of clay, and in the + vessel thou wilt find a sweet liquid, that shall make the king thy master + forget his age forever.’ Therefore, my lord, when the morning rose I went + forth, and looked under the stone, and behold the vessel of clay; and I + have brought it hither to my lord the king.” + </p> + <p> + “Quick, slave, quick! that I may drink and regain my youth!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, listen, O king! further said the star to me,— + </p> + <p> + “‘It is only at night, when the stars have power, that this their gift + will avail; wherefore the king must wait till the hush of the midnight, + when the moon is high, and then may he mingle the liquid with his wine. + And he must reveal to none that he hath received the gift from the hand of + the servant of the stars. For THEY do their work in secret, and when men + sleep; therefore they love not the babble of mouths, and he who reveals + their benefits shall surely die.” + </p> + <p> + “Fear not,” said the king, grasping the vessel; “none shall know: and, + behold, I will rise on the morrow; and my two sons, wrangling for my crown—verily + I shall be younger than they!” + </p> + <p> + Then the king laughed loud; and he scarcely thanked the servant of the + stars, neither did he promise him reward; for the kings in those days had + little thought save for themselves. + </p> + <p> + And Morven said to him, “Shall I not attend my lord?—for without me, + perchance, the drug might fail of its effect.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said the king, “rest here.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” replied Morven; “thy servants will marvel and talk much, if they + see the son of Osslah sojourning in thy palace. So would the displeasure + of the gods of night perchance be incurred. Suffer that the lesser door of + the palace be unbarred, so that at the night hour, when the moon is midway + in the heavens, I may steal unseen into thy chamber, and mix the liquid + with thy wine.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” said the king. “Thou art wise, though thy limbs are crooked + and curt; and the stars might have chosen a taller man.” Then the king + laughed again; and Morven laughed too, but there was danger in the mirth + of the son of Osslah. + </p> + <p> + The night had begun to wane, and the inhabitants of Oestrich were buried + in deep sleep, when, hark! a sharp voice was heard crying out in the + streets, “Woe, woe! Awake, ye sons of Oestrich! woe!” Then forth, wild, + haggard, alarmed, spear in hand, rushed the giant sons of the rugged + tribe, and they saw a man on a height in the middle of the city, shrieking + “Woe!” and it was Morven, the son of Osslah! And he said unto them, as + they gathered round him, “Men and warriors, tremble as ye hear. The star + of the west hath spoken to me, and thus said the star: ‘Evil shall fall + upon the kingly house of Oestrich,—yea, ere the morning dawn; + wherefore, go thou mourning into the streets, and wake the inhabitants to + woe!’ So I rose and did the bidding of the star.” And while Morven was yet + speaking, a servant of the king’s house ran up to the crowd, crying + loudly, “The king is dead!” So they went into the palace and found the + king stark upon his couch, and his huge limbs all cramped and crippled by + the pangs of death, and his hands clenched as if in menace of a foe,—the + Foe of all living flesh! Then fear came on the gazers, and they looked on + Morven with a deeper awe than the boldest warrior would have called forth; + and they bore him back to the council-hall of the wise men, wailing and + clashing their arms in woe, and shouting, ever and anon, “Honour to Morven + the prophet!” And that was the first time the word PROPHET was ever used + in those countries. + </p> + <p> + At noon, on the third day from the king’s death, Siror sought Morven, and + he said, “Lo, my father is no more, and the people meet this evening at + sunset to elect his successor, and the warriors and the young men will + surely choose my brother, for he is more known in war. Fail me not + therefore.” + </p> + <p> + “Peace, boy!” said Morven, sternly; “nor dare to question the truth of the + gods of night.” + </p> + <p> + For Morven now began to presume on his power among the people, and to + speak as rulers speak, even to the sons of kings; and the voice silenced + the fiery Siror, nor dared he to reply. + </p> + <p> + “Behold,” said Morven, taking up a chaplet of coloured plumes, “wear this + on thy head, and put on a brave face, for the people like a hopeful + spirit, and go down with thy brother to the place where the new king is to + be chosen, and leave the rest to the stars. But, above all things, forget + not that chaplet; it has been blessed by the gods of night.” + </p> + <p> + The prince took the chaplet and returned home. + </p> + <p> + It was evening, and the warriors and chiefs of the tribe were assembled in + the place where the new king was to be elected. And the voices of the many + favoured Prince Voltoch, the brother of Siror, for he had slain twelve + foemen with his spear; and verily, in those days, that was a great virtue + in a king. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was a shout in the streets, and the people cried out, “Way + for Morven the prophet, the prophet!” For the people held the son of + Osslah in even greater respect than did the chiefs. Now, since he had + become of note, Morven had assumed a majesty of air which the son of the + herdsman knew not in his earlier days; and albeit his stature was short, + and his limbs halted, yet his countenance was grave and high. He only of + the tribe wore a garment that swept the ground, and his head was bare and + his long black hair descended to his girdle, and rarely was change or + human passion seen in his calm aspect. He feasted not, nor drank wine, nor + was his presence frequent in the streets. He laughed not, neither did he + smile, save when alone in the forest,—and then he laughed at the + follies of his tribe. + </p> + <p> + So he walked slowly through the crowd, neither turning to the left nor to + the right, as the crowd gave way; and he supported his steps with a staff + of the knotted pine. + </p> + <p> + And when he came to the place where the chiefs were met, and the two + princes stood in the centre, he bade the people around him proclaim + silence; then mounting on a huge fragment of rock, he thus spake to the + multitude:— + </p> + <p> + “Princes, Warriors, and Bards! ye, O council of the wise men! and ye, O + hunters of the forests and snarers of the fishes of the streams! hearken + to Morven, the son of Osslah. Ye know that I am lowly of race and weak of + limb; but did I not give into your hands the tribe of Alrich, and did ye + not slay them in the dead of night with a great slaughter? Surely, ye must + know this of himself did not the herdsman’s son; surely he was but the + agent of the bright gods that love the children of Oestrich! Three nights + since when slumber was on the earth, was not my voice heard in the + streets? Did I not proclaim woe to the kingly house of Oestrich? and + verily the dark arm had fallen on the bosom of the mighty, that is no + more. Could I have dreamed this thing merely in a dream, or was I not as + the voice of the bright gods that watch over the tribes of Oestrich? + Wherefore, O men and chiefs! scorn not the son of Osslah, but listen to + his words; for are they not the wisdom of the stars? Behold, last night, I + sat alone in the valley, and the trees were hushed around, and not a + breath stirred; and I looked upon the star that counsels the son of + Osslah; and I said, ‘Dread conqueror of the cloud! thou that bathest thy + beauty in the streams and piercest the pine-boughs with thy presence; + behold thy servant grieved because the mighty one hath passed away, and + many foes surround the houses of my brethren; and it is well that they + should have a king valiant and prosperous in war, the cherished of the + stars. Wherefore, O star! as thou gavest into our hands the warriors of + Alrich, and didst warn us of the fall of the oak of our tribe, wherefore I + pray thee give unto the people a token that they may choose that king whom + the gods of the night prefer!’ Then a low voice, sweeter than the music of + the bard, stole along the silence. ‘Thy love for thy race is grateful to + the stars of night: go, then, son of Osslah, and seek the meeting of the + chiefs and the people to choose a king, and tell them not to scorn thee + because thou art slow to the chase, and little known in war; for the stars + give thee wisdom as a recompense for all. Say unto the people that as the + wise men of the council shape their lessons by the flight of birds, so by + the flight of birds shall a token be given unto them, and they shall + choose their kings. For, saith the star of night, the birds are the + children of the winds, they pass to and fro along the ocean of the air, + and visit the clouds that are the war-ships of the gods; and their music + is but broken melodies which they glean from the harps above. Are they not + the messengers of the storm? Ere the stream chafes against the bank, and + the rain descends, know ye not, by the wail of birds and their low circle + over the earth, that the tempest is at hand? Wherefore, wisely do ye deem + that the children of the air are the fit interpreters between the sons of + men and the lords of the world above. Say then to the people and the + chiefs that they shall take, from among the doves that build their nests + in the roof of the palace, a white dove, and they shall let it loose in + the air, and verily the gods of the night shall deem the dove as a prayer + coming from the people, and they shall send a messenger to grant the + prayer and give to the tribes of Oestrich a king worthy of themselves.’ + </p> + <p> + “With that the star spoke no more.” + </p> + <p> + Then the friends of Voltoch murmured among themselves, and they said, + “Shall this man dictate to us who shall be king?” But the people and the + warriors shouted, “Listen to the star; do we not give or deny battle + according as the bird flies,—shall we not by the same token choose + him by whom the battle should be led?” And the thing seemed natural to + them, for it was after the custom of the tribe. Then they took one of the + doves that built in the roof of the palace, and they brought it to the + spot where Morven stood, and he, looking up to the stars and muttering to + himself, released the bird. + </p> + <p> + There was a copse of trees at a little distance from the spot, and as the + dove ascended, a hawk suddenly rose from the copse and pursued the dove; + and the dove was terrified, and soared circling high above the crowd, when + lo, the hawk, poising itself one moment on its wings, swooped with a + sudden swoop, and, abandoning its prey, alighted on the plumed head of + Siror. + </p> + <p> + “Behold,” cried Morven in a loud voice, “behold your king!” + </p> + <p> + “Hail, all hail the king!” shouted the people. “All hail the chosen of the + stars!” + </p> + <p> + Then Morven lifted his right hand and the hawk left the prince and + alighted on Morven’s shoulder. “Bird of the gods!” said he, reverently, + “hast thou not a secret message for my ear?” Then the hawk put its beak to + Morven’s ear, and Morven bowed his head submissively; and the hawk rested + with Morven from that moment and would not be scared away. And Morven + said, “The stars have sent me this bird, that in the day-time when I see + them not, we may never be without a councillor in distress.” + </p> + <p> + So Siror was made king and Morven the son of Osslah was constrained by the + king’s will to take Orna for his wife; and the people and the chiefs + honoured Morven the prophet above all the elders of the tribe. + </p> + <p> + One day Morven said unto himself, musing, “Am I not already equal with the + king,—nay, is not the king my servant? Did I not place him over the + heads of his brothers? Am I not, therefore, more fit to reign than he is; + shall I not push him from his seat? It is a troublesome and stormy office + to reign over the wild men of Oestrich, to feast in the crowded hall, and + to lead the warriors to the fray. Surely if I feasted not, neither went + out to war, they might say, ‘This is no king, but the cripple Morven;’ and + some of the race of Siror might slay me secretly. But can I not be greater + far than kings, and continue to choose and govern them, living as now at + mine own ease? Verily the stars shall give me a new palace, and many + subjects.” + </p> + <p> + Among the wise men was Darvan; and Morven feared him, for his eye often + sought the movements of the son of Osslah. + </p> + <p> + And Morven said, “It were better to <i>trust</i> this man than to <i>blind</i>, + for surely I want a helpmate and a friend.” So he said to the wise man as + he sat alone watching the setting sun,— + </p> + <p> + “It seemeth to me, O Darvan! that we ought to build a great pile in honour + of the stars, and the pile should be more glorious than all the palaces of + the chiefs and the palace of the king; for are not the stars our masters? + And thou and I should be the chief dwellers in this new palace, and we + would serve the gods of night and fatten their altars with the choicest of + the herd and the freshest of the fruits of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + And Darvan said, “Thou speakest as becomes the servant of the stars. But + will the people help to build the pile? For they are a warlike race and + they love not toil.” + </p> + <p> + And Morven answered, “Doubtless the stars will ordain the work to be done. + Fear not.” + </p> + <p> + “In truth thou art a wondrous man; thy words ever come to pass,” answered + Darvan; “and I wish thou wouldest teach me, friend, the language of the + stars.” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly if thou servest me, thou shalt know,” answered the proud + Morven; and Darvan was secretly wroth that the son of the herdsman should + command the service of an elder and a chief. + </p> + <p> + And when Morven returned to his wife he found her weeping much. Now she + loved the son of Osslah with an exceeding love, for he was not savage and + fierce as the men she had known, and she was proud of his fame among the + tribe; and he took her in his arms and kissed her, and asked her why she + wept. Then she told him that her brother the king had visited her, and had + spoken bitter words of Morven: “He taketh from me the affection of my + people,” said Siror, “and blindeth them with lies. And since he hath made + me king, what if he take my kingdom from me? Verily a new tale of the + stars might undo the old.” And the king had ordered her to keep watch on + Morven’s secrecy, and to see whether truth was in him when he boasted of + his commune with the Powers of night. + </p> + <p> + But Orna loved Morven better than Siror, therefore she told her husband + all. + </p> + <p> + And Morven resented the king’s ingratitude, and was troubled much, for a + king is a powerful foe; but he comforted Orna, and bade her dissemble, and + complain also of him to her brother, so that he might confide to her + unsuspectingly whatsoever he might design against Morven. + </p> + <p> + There was a cave by Morven’s house in which he kept the sacred hawk, and + wherein he secretly trained and nurtured other birds against future need; + and the door of the cave was always barred. And one day he was thus + engaged when he beheld a chink in the wall that he had never noted before, + and the sun came playfully in; and while he looked he perceived the + sunbeam was darkened, and presently he saw a human face peering in through + the chink. And Morven trembled, for he knew he had been watched. He ran + hastily from the cave; but the spy had disappeared among the trees, and + Morven went straight to the chamber of Darvan and sat himself down. And + Darvan did not return home till late, and he started and turned pale when + he saw Morven. But Morven greeted him as a brother, and bade him to a + feast, which, for the first time, he purposed giving at the full of the + moon, in honour of the stars. And going out of Darvan’s chamber he + returned to his wife, and bade her rend her hair, and go at the dawn of + day to the king her brother, and complain bitterly of Morven’s treatment, + and pluck the black plans from the breast of the king. “For surely,” said + he, “Darvan hath lied to thy brother, and some evil waits me that I would + fain know.” + </p> + <p> + So the next morning Orna sought the king, and she said, “The herdsman’s + son hath reviled me, and spoken harsh words to me; shall I not be + avenged?” + </p> + <p> + Then the king stamped his feet and shook his mighty sword. “Surely thou + shalt be avenged; for I have learned from one of the elders that which + convinceth me that the man hath lied to the people, and the base-born + shall surely die. Yea, the first time that he goeth alone into the forest + my brother and I will fall upon him and smite him to the death.” And with + this comfort Siror dismissed Orna. + </p> + <p> + And Orna flung herself at the feet of her husband. “Fly now, O my beloved!—fly + into the forests afar from my brethren, or surely the sword of Siror will + end thy days.” + </p> + <p> + Then the son of Osslah folded his arms, and seemed buried in black + thoughts; nor did he heed the voice of Orna, until again and again she had + implored him to fly. + </p> + <p> + “Fly!” he said at length. “Nay, I was doubting what punishment the stars + should pour down upon our foe. Let warriors fly. Morven the prophet + conquers by arms mightier than the sword.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless Morven was perplexed in his mind, and knew not how to save + himself from the vengeance of the king. Now, while he was musing + hopelessly he heard a roar of waters; and behold, the river, for it was + now the end of autumn, had burst its bounds, and was rushing along the + valley to the houses of the city. And now the men of the tribe, and the + women, and the children, came running, and with shrieks, to Morven’s + house, crying, “Behold, the river has burst upon us! Save us, O ruler of + the stars!” + </p> + <p> + Then the sudden thought broke upon Morven, and he resolved to risk his + fate upon one desperate scheme. + </p> + <p> + And he came out from the house calm and sad, and he said, “Ye know not + what ye ask; I cannot save ye from this peril: ye have brought it on + yourselves.” And they cried, “How? O son of Osslah! We are ignorant of our + crime.” + </p> + <p> + And he answered, “Go down to the king’s palace and wait before it, and + surely I will follow ye, and ye shall learn wherefore ye have incurred + this punishment from the gods.” Then the crowd rolled murmuring back, as a + receding sea; and when it was gone from the place, Morven went alone to + the house of Darvan, which was next his own. And Darvan was greatly + terrified; for he was of a great age, and had no children, neither + friends, and he feared that he could not of himself escape the waters. + </p> + <p> + And Morven said to him soothingly, “Lo, the people love me, and I will see + that thou art saved; for verily thou hast been friendly to me, and done me + much service with the king.” + </p> + <p> + And as he thus spake, Morven opened the door of the house and looked + forth, and saw that they were quite alone. Then he seized the old man by + the throat and ceased not his gripe till he was quite dead; and leaving + the body of the elder on the floor, Morven stole from the house and shut + the gate. And as he was going to his cave he mused a little while, when, + hearing the mighty roar of the waves advancing, and far off the shrieks of + women, he lifted up his head and said proudly, “No, in this hour terror + alone shall be my slave; I will use no art save the power of my soul.” So, + leaning on his pine-staff, he strode down to the palace. And it was now + evening, and many of the men held torches, that they might see each + other’s faces in the universal fear. Red flashed the quivering flames on + the dark robes and pale front of Morven; and he seemed mightier than the + rest, because his face alone was calm amidst the tumult. And louder and + hoarser became the roar of the waters; and swift rushed the shades of + night over the hastening tide. + </p> + <p> + And Morven said in a stern voice, “Where is the king; and wherefore is he + absent from his people in the hour of dread?” Then the gate of the palace + opened, and, behold, Siror was sitting in the hall by the vast pine-fire, + and his brother by his side, and his chiefs around him: for they would not + deign to come amongst the crowd at the bidding of the herdsman’s son. + </p> + <p> + Then Morven, standing upon a rock above the heads of the people (the same + rock whereon he had proclaimed the king), thus spake:— + </p> + <p> + “Ye desired to know, O sons of Oestrich! wherefore the river hath burst + its bounds, and the peril hath come upon you. Learn, then, that the stars + resent as the foulest of human crimes an insult to their servants and + delegates below. Ye are all aware of the manner of life of Morven, whom ye + have surnamed the Prophet! He harms not man nor beast; he lives alone; + and, far from the wild joys of the warrior tribe, he worships in awe and + fear the Powers of Night. So is he able to advise ye of the coming danger,—so + is he able to save ye from the foe. Thus are your huntsmen swift and your + warriors bold; and thus do your cattle bring forth their young, and the + earth its fruits. What think ye, and what do ye ask to hear? Listen, men + of Oestrich!—they have laid snares for my life; and there are + amongst you those who have whetted the sword against the bosom that is + only filled with love for you all. Therefore have the stern lords of + heaven loosened the chains of the river; therefore doth this evil menace + ye. Neither will it pass away until they who dug the pit for the servant + of the stars are buried in the same.” + </p> + <p> + Then, by the red torches, the faces of the men looked fierce and + threatening; and ten thousand voices shouted forth, “Name them who + conspired against thy life, O holy prophet, and surely they shall be torn + limb from limb.” + </p> + <p> + And Morven turned aside, and they saw that he wept bitterly; and he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Ye have asked me, and I have answered: but now scarce will ye believe the + foe that I have provoked against me; and by the heavens themselves I + swear, that if my death would satisfy their fury, nor bring down upon + yourselves and your children’s children the anger of the throned stars, + gladly would I give my bosom to the knife. Yes,” he cried, lifting up his + voice, and pointing his shadowy arm towards the hall where the king sat by + the pine-fire,—“yes, thou whom by my voice the stars chose above thy + brother; yes, Siror, the guilty one! take thy sword, and come hither; + strike, if thou hast the heart to strike, the Prophet of the Gods!” + </p> + <p> + The king started to his feet, and the crowd were hushed in a shuddering + silence. + </p> + <p> + Morven resumed:— + </p> + <p> + “Know then, O men of Oestrich, that Siror and Voltoch his brother, and + Darvan the elder of the wise men, have purposed to slay your prophet, even + at such hour as when alone he seeks the shade of the forest to devise new + benefits for you. Let the king deny it, if he can!” + </p> + <p> + Then Voltoch, of the giant limbs, strode forth from the hall, and his + spear quivered in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Rightly hast thou spoken, base son of my father’s herdsman! and for thy + sins shalt thou surely die; for thou liest when thou speakest of thy power + with the stars, and thou laughest at the folly of them who hear thee: + wherefore put him to death.” + </p> + <p> + Then the chiefs in the hall clashed their arms, and rushed forth to slay + the son of Osslah. + </p> + <p> + But he, stretching his unarmed hands on high, exclaimed, “Hear him, O + dread ones of the night! Hark how he blasphemeth!” + </p> + <p> + Then the crowd took up the word, and cried, “He blasphemeth! he + blasphemeth against the prophet!” + </p> + <p> + But the king and the chiefs, who hated Morven because of his power with + the people, rushed into the crowd; and the crowd were irresolute, nor knew + they how to act, for never yet had they rebelled against their chiefs, and + they feared alike the prophet and the king. + </p> + <p> + And Siror cried, “Summon Darvan to us, for he hath watched the steps of + Morven, and he shall lift the veil from my people’s eyes.” Then three of + the swift of foot started forth to the house of Darvan. + </p> + <p> + And Morven cried out with a loud voice, “Hark! thus saith the star, who, + now riding through yonder cloud, breaks forth upon my eyes, ‘For the lie + that the elder hath uttered against my servant, the curse of the stars + shall fall upon him.’ Seek, and as ye find him so may ye find ever the + foes of Morven and the gods!” + </p> + <p> + A chill and an icy fear fell over the crowd, and even the cheek of Siror + grew pale; and Morven, erect and dark above the waving torches, stood + motionless with folded arms. And hark!—far and fast came on the + war-steeds of the wave; the people heard them marching to the land, and + tossing their white manes in the roaring wind. + </p> + <p> + “Lo, as ye listen,” said Morven, calmly, “the river sweeps on. Haste, for + the gods will have a victim, be it your prophet or your king.” + </p> + <p> + “Slave!” shouted Siror, and his spear left his hand, and far above the + heads of the crowd sped hissing beside the dark form of Morven, and rent + the trunk of the oak behind. Then the people, wroth at the danger of their + beloved seer, uttered a wild yell, and gathered round him with brandished + swords, facing their chieftains and their king. But at that instant, ere + the war had broken forth among the tribe, the three warriors returned, and + they bore Darvan on their shoulders, and laid him at the feet of the king, + and they said tremblingly, “Thus found we the elder in the centre of his + own hall.” And the people saw that Darvan was a corpse, and that the + prediction of Morven was thus verified. “So perish the enemies of Morven + and the stars!” cried the son of Osslah. And the people echoed the cry. + Then the fury of Siror was at its height, and waving his sword above his + head he plunged into the crowd, “Thy blood, baseborn, or mine!” + </p> + <p> + “So be it!” answered Morven, quailing not. “People, smite the blasphemer! + Hark how the river pours down upon your children and your hearths! On, on, + or ye perish!” + </p> + <p> + And Siror fell, pierced by five hundred spears. + </p> + <p> + “Smite! smite!” cried Morven, as the chiefs of the royal house gathered + round the king. And the clash of swords, and the gleam of spears, and the + cries of the dying, and the yell of the trampling people mingled with the + roar of the elements, and the voices of the rushing wave. + </p> + <p> + Three hundred of the chiefs perished that night by the swords of their own + tribe; and the last cry of the victors was, “Morven the prophet! <i>Morven + the king!</i>” + </p> + <p> + And the son of Osslah, seeing the waves now spreading over the valley, led + Orna his wife, and the men of Oestrich, their women, and their children, + to a high mount, where they waited the dawning sun. But Orna sat apart and + wept bitterly, for her brothers were no more, and her race had perished + from the earth. And Morven sought to comfort her in vain. + </p> + <p> + When the morning rose, they saw that the river had overspread the greater + part of the city, and now stayed its course among the hollows of the vale. + Then Morven said to the people, “The star-kings are avenged, and their + wrath appeased. Tarry only here until the waters have melted into the + crevices of the soil.” And on the fourth day they returned to the city, + and no man dared to name another, save Morven, as the king. + </p> + <p> + But Morven retired into his cave and mused deeply; and then assembling the + people, he gave them new laws; and he made them build a mighty temple in + honour of the stars, and made them heap within it all that the tribe held + most precious. And he took unto him fifty children from the most famous of + the tribe; and he took also ten from among the men who had served him + best, and he ordained that they should serve the stars in the great + temple: and Morven was their chief. And he put away the crown they pressed + upon him, and he chose from among the elders a new king. And he ordained + that henceforth the servants only of the stars in the great temple should + elect the king and the rulers, and hold council, and proclaim war; but he + suffered the king to feast, and to hunt, and to make merry in the + banquet-halls. And Morven built altars in the temple, and was the first + who, in the North, sacrificed the beast and the bird, and afterwards human + flesh, upon the altars. And he drew auguries from the entrails of the + victim, and made schools for the science of the prophet; and Morven’s + piety was the wonder of the tribe, in that he refused to be a king. And + Morven the high priest was ten thousand times mightier than the king. He + taught the people to till the ground and to sow the herb; and by his + wisdom, and the valour that his prophecies instilled into men, he + conquered all the neighbouring tribes. And the sons of Oestrich spread + themselves over a mighty empire, and with them spread the name and the + laws of Morven. And in every province which he conquered, he ordered them + to build a temple to the stars. + </p> + <p> + But a heavy sorrow fell upon the fears of Morven. The sister of Siror + bowed down her head, and survived not long the slaughter of her race. And + she left Morven childless. And he mourned bitterly and as one distraught, + for her only in the world had his heart the power to love. And he sat down + and covered his face, saying:— + </p> + <p> + “Lo! I have toiled and travailed; and never before in the world did man + conquer what I have conquered. Verily the empire of the iron thews and the + giant limbs is no more! I have founded a new power, that henceforth shall + sway the lands,—the empire of a plotting brain and a commanding + mind. But, behold! my fate is barren, and I feel already that it will grow + neither fruit nor tree as a shelter to mine old age. Desolate and lonely + shall I pass unto my grave. O Orna! my beautiful! my loved! none were like + unto thee, and to thy love do I owe my glory and my life! Would for thy + sake, O sweet bird! that nestled in the dark cavern of my heart,—would + for thy sake that thy brethren had been spared, for verily with my life + would I have purchased thine. Alas! only when I lost thee did I find that + thy love was dearer to me than the fear of others!” And Morven mourned + night and day, and none might comfort him. + </p> + <p> + But from that time forth he gave himself solely up to the cares of his + calling; and his nature and his affections, and whatever there was yet + left soft in him, grew hard like stone; and he was a man without love, and + he forbade love and marriage to the priest. + </p> + <p> + Now, in his latter years, there arose <i>other</i> prophets; for the world + had grown wiser even by Morven’s wisdom, and some did say unto themselves, + “Behold Morven, the herdsman’s son, is a king of kings: this did the stars + for their servant; shall we not also be servants to the star?” + </p> + <p> + And they wore black garments like Morven, and went about prophesying of + what the stars foretold them. And Morven was exceeding wroth; for he, more + than other men, knew that the prophets lied. Wherefore he went forth + against them with the ministers of the temple, and he took them, and + burned them by a slow fire; for thus said Morven to the people: “A true + prophet hath honour, but <i>I</i> only am a true prophet; to all false + prophets there shall be surely death.” + </p> + <p> + And the people applauded the piety of the son of Osslah. + </p> + <p> + And Morven educated the wisest of the children in the mysteries of the + temple, so that they grew up to succeed him worthily. + </p> + <p> + And he died full of years and honour; and they carved his effigy on a + mighty stone before the temple, and the effigy endured for a thousand + ages, and whoso looked on it trembled; for the face was calm with the + calmness of unspeakable awe! + </p> + <p> + And Morven was the first mortal of the North that made Religion the + stepping-stone to Power. Of a surety Morven was a great man! + </p> + <p> + It was the last night of the old year, and the stars sat, each upon his + ruby throne, and watched with sleepless eyes upon the world. The night was + dark and troubled, the dread winds were abroad, and fast and frequent + hurried the clouds beneath the thrones of the kings of night. And ever and + anon fiery meteors flashed along the depths of heaven, and were again + swallowed up in the grave of darkness. But far below his brethren, and + with a lurid haze around his orb, sat the discontented star that had + watched over the hunters of the North. + </p> + <p> + And on the lowest abyss of space there was spread a thick and mighty + gloom, from which, as from a caldron, rose columns of wreathing smoke; and + still, when the great winds rested for an instant on their paths, voices + of woe and laughter, mingled with shrieks, were heard booming from the + abyss to the upper air. + </p> + <p> + And now, in the middest night, a vast figure rose slowly from the abyss, + and its wings threw blackness over the world. High upward to the throne of + the discontented star sailed the fearful shape, and the star trembled on + his throne when the form stood before him face to face. + </p> + <p> + And the shape said, “Hail, brother! all hail!” + </p> + <p> + “I know thee not,” answered the star; “thou art not the archangel that + visitest the kings of night.” + </p> + <p> + And the shape laughed loud. “I am the fallen star of the morning! I am + Lucifer, thy brother! Hast thou not, O sullen king, served me and mine; + and hast thou not wrested the earth from thy Lord who sittest above, and + given it to me, by darkening the souls of men with the religion of fear? + Wherefore come, brother, come; thou hast a throne prepared beside my own + in the fiery gloom. Come! The heavens are no more for thee!” + </p> + <p> + Then the star rose from his throne, and descended to the side of Lucifer; + for ever hath the spirit of discontent had sympathy with the soul of + pride. And they sank slowly down to the gulf of gloom. + </p> + <p> + It was the first night of the new year, and the stars sat each on his ruby + throne, and watched with sleepless eyes upon the world. But sorrow dimmed + the bright faces of the kings of night, for they mourned in silence and in + fear for a fallen brother. + </p> + <p> + And the gates of the heaven of heavens flew open with a golden sound, and + the swift archangel fled down on his silent wings; and the archangel gave + to each of the stars, as before, the message of his Lord, and to each star + was his appointed charge. And when the heraldry seemed done there came a + laugh from the abyss of gloom, and half-way from the gulf rose the lurid + shape of Lucifer the fiend! + </p> + <p> + “Thou countest thy flock ill, O radiant shepherd! Behold! one star is + missing from the three thousand and ten!” + </p> + <p> + “Back to thy gulf, false Lucifer!—the throne of thy brother hath + been filled.” + </p> + <p> + And, lo! as the archangel spake, the stars beheld a young and all-lustrous + stranger on the throne of the erring star; and his face was so soft to + look upon that the dimmest of human eyes might have gazed upon its + splendour unabashed: but the dark fiend alone was dazzled by its lustre, + and, with a yell that shook the flaming pillars of the universe, he + plunged backward into the gloom. + </p> + <p> + Then, far and sweet from the arch unseen, came forth the voice of God,— + </p> + <p> + “Behold! on the throne of the discontented star sits the star of Hope; and + he that breathed into mankind the religion of Fear hath a successor in him + who shall teach earth the religion of Love!” + </p> + <p> + And evermore the star of Fear dwells with Lucifer, and the star of Love + keeps vigil in heaven! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. GLENHAUSEN.—THE POWER OF LOVE IN SANCTIFIED PLACES.—A + </h2> + <p> + PORTRAIT OF FREDERICK BARBAROSSA.—THE AMBITION OF MEN FINDS NO + ADEQUATE SYMPATHY IN WOMEN. + </p> + <p> + “YOU made me tremble for you more than once,” said Gertrude to the + student; “I feared you were about to touch upon ground really sacred, but + your end redeemed all.” + </p> + <p> + “The false religion always tries to counterfeit the garb, the language, + the aspect of the true,” answered the German; “for that reason, I + purposely suffered my tale to occasion that very fear and anxiety you + speak of, conscious that the most scrupulous would be contented when the + whole was finished.” + </p> + <p> + This German was one of a new school, of which England as yet knows + nothing. We shall see hereafter what it will produce. + </p> + <p> + The student left them at Friedberg, and our travellers proceeded to + Glenhausen,—a spot interesting to lovers; for here Frederick the + First was won by the beauty of Gela, and, in the midst of an island vale, + he built the Imperial Palace, in honour of the lady of his love. This spot + is, indeed, well chosen of itself; the mountains of the Rhinegeburg close + it in with the green gloom of woods and the glancing waters of the Kinz. + </p> + <p> + “Still, wherever we go,” said Trevylyan, “we find all tradition is + connected with love; and history, for that reason, hallows less than + romance.” + </p> + <p> + “It is singular,” said Vane, moralizing, “that love makes but a small part + of our actual lives, but is yet the master-key to our sympathies. The + hardest of us, who laugh at the passion when they see it palpably before + them, are arrested by some dim tradition of its existence in the past. It + is as if life had few opportunities of bringing out certain qualities + within us, so that they always remain untold and dormant, susceptible to + thought, but deaf to action.” + </p> + <p> + “You refine and mystify too much,” said Trevylyan, smiling; “none of us + have any faculty, any passion, uncalled forth, if we have <i>really</i> + loved, though but for a day.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude smiled, and drawing her arm within his, Trevylyan left Vane to + philosophize on passion,—a fit occupation for one who had never felt + it. + </p> + <p> + “Here let us pause,” said Trevylyan, afterwards, as they visited the + remains of the ancient palace, and the sun glittered on the scene, “to + recall the old chivalric day of the gallant Barbarossa; let us suppose him + commencing the last great action of his life; let us picture him as + setting out for the Holy Land. Imagine him issuing from those walls on his + white charger,—his fiery eye somewhat dimmed by years, and his hair + blanched; but nobler from the impress of time itself,—the clang of + arms; the tramp of steeds; banners on high; music pealing from hill to + hill; the red cross and the nodding plume; the sun, as now glancing on + yonder trees; and thence reflected from the burnished arms of the + Crusaders. But, Gela—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Gertrude, “<i>she</i> must be no more; for she would have + outlived her beauty, and have found that glory had now no rival in his + breast. Glory consoles men for the death of the loved; but glory is + infidelity to the living.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, not so, dearest Gertrude,” said Trevylyan, quickly; “for my darling + dream of Fame is the hope of laying its honours at your feet! And if ever, + in future years, I should rise above the herd, I should only ask if <i>your</i> + step were proud and <i>your</i> heart elated.” + </p> + <p> + “I was wrong,” said Gertrude, with tears in her eyes; “and for your sake I + can be ambitious.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps there, too, she was mistaken; for one of the common + disappointments of the heart is, that women have so rarely a sympathy in + our better and higher aspirings. Their ambition is not for great things; + they cannot understand that desire “which scorns delight, and loves + laborious days.” If they love us, they usually exact too much. They are + jealous of the ambition to which we sacrifice so largely, and which + divides us from them; and they leave the stern passion of great minds to + the only solitude which affection cannot share. To aspire is to be alone! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. VIEW OF EHRENBREITSTEIN.—A NEW ALARM IN GERTRUDE’S + </h2> + <p> + HEALTH.—TRARBACH. + </p> + <p> + ANOTHER time our travellers proceeded from Coblentz to Treves, following + the course of the Moselle. They stopped on the opposite bank below the + bridge that unites Coblentz with the Petersberg, to linger over the superb + view of Ehrenbreitstein which you may there behold. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those calm noonday scenes which impress upon us their own + bright and voluptuous tranquillity. There stood the old herdsman leaning + on his staff, and the quiet cattle knee-deep in the gliding waters. Never + did stream more smooth and sheen than was at that hour the surface of the + Moselle mirror the images of the pastoral life. Beyond, the darker shadows + of the bridge and of the walls of Coblentz fell deep over the waves, + checkered by the tall sails of the craft that were moored around the + harbour. But clear against the sun rose the spires and roofs of Coblentz, + backed by many a hill sloping away to the horizon. High, dark, and + massive, on the opposite bank, swelled the towers and rock of + Ehrenbreitstein,—a type of that great chivalric spirit—the + HONOUR that the rock arrogates for its name—which demands so many + sacrifices of blood and tears, but which ever creates in the restless + heart of man a far deeper interest than the more peaceful scenes of life + by which it is contrasted. There, still—from the calm waters, and + the abodes of common toil and ordinary pleasure—turns the aspiring + mind! Still as we gaze on that lofty and immemorial rock we recall the + famine and the siege; and own that the more daring crimes of men have a + strange privilege in hallowing the very spot which they devastate. + </p> + <p> + Below, in green curves and mimic bays covered with herbage, the gradual + banks mingled with the water; and just where the bridge closed, a solitary + group of trees, standing dark in the thickest shadow, gave that melancholy + feature to the scene which resembles the one dark thought that often + forces itself into our sunniest hours. Their boughs stirred not; no voice + of birds broke the stillness of their gloomy verdure: the eye turned from + them, as from the sad moral that belongs to existence. + </p> + <p> + In proceeding to Trarbach, Gertrude was seized with another of those + fainting fits which had so terrified Trevylyan before; they stopped an + hour or two at a little village, but Gertrude rallied with such apparent + rapidity, and so strongly insisted on proceeding, that they reluctantly + continued their way. This event would have thrown a gloom over their + journey, if Gertrude had not exerted herself to dispel the impression she + had occasioned; and so light, so cheerful, were her spirits, that for the + time at least she succeeded. + </p> + <p> + They arrived at Trarbach late at noon. This now small and humble town is + said to have been the Thronus Bacchi of the ancients. From the spot where + the travellers halted to take, as it were, their impression of the town, + they saw before them the little hostelry, a poor pretender to the Thronus + Bacchi, with the rude sign of the Holy Mother over the door. The peaked + roof, the sunk window, the gray walls, checkered with the rude beams of + wood so common to the meaner houses on the Continent, bore something of a + melancholy and prepossessing aspect. Right above, with its Gothic windows + and venerable spire, rose the church of the town; and, crowning the summit + of a green and almost perpendicular mountain, scowled the remains of one + of those mighty castles which make the never-failing frown on a German + landscape. + </p> + <p> + The scene was one of quiet and of gloom: the exceeding serenity of the day + contrasted, with an almost unpleasing brightness, the poverty of the town, + the thinness of the population, and the dreary grandeur of the ruins that + overhung the capital of the perished race of the bold Counts of Spanheim. + </p> + <p> + They passed the night at Trarbach, and continued their journey next day. + At Treves, Gertrude was for some days seriously ill; and when they + returned to Coblentz, her disease had evidently received a rapid and + alarming increase. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE DOUBLE LIFE.—TREVYLYAN’S FATE.—SORROW THE + PARENT OF + </h2> + <p> + FAME.—NIEDERLAHNSTEIN.—DREAMS. + </p> + <p> + THERE are two lives to each of us, gliding on at the same time, scarcely + connected with each other,—the life of our actions, the life of our + minds; the external and the inward history; the movements of the frame, + the deep and ever-restless workings of the heart! They who have loved know + that there is a diary of the affections, which we might keep for years + without having occasion even to touch upon the exterior surface of life, + our busy occupations, the mechanical progress of our existence; yet by the + last are we judged, the first is never known. History reveals men’s deeds, + men’s outward character, but <i>not themselves</i>. There is a secret self + that hath its own life “rounded by a dream,” unpenetrated, unguessed. What + passed within Trevylyan, hour after hour, as he watched over the declining + health of the only being in the world whom his proud heart had been ever + destined to love? His real record of the time was marked by every cloud + upon Gertrude’s brow, every smile of her countenance, every—the + faintest—alteration in her disease; yet, to the outward seeming, all + this vast current of varying eventful emotion lay dark and unconjectured. + He filled up with wonted regularity the colourings of existence, and + smiled and moved as other men. For still, in the heroism with which + devotion conquers self, he sought only to cheer and gladden the young + heart on which he had embarked his all; and he kept the dark tempest of + his anguish for the solitude of night. + </p> + <p> + That was a peculiar doom which Fate had reserved for him; and casting him, + in after years, on the great sea of public strife, it seemed as if she + were resolved to tear from his heart all yearnings for the land. For him + there was to be no green or sequestered spot in the valley of household + peace. His bark was to know no haven, and his soul not even the desire of + rest. For action is that Lethe in which alone we forget our former dreams, + and the mind that, too stern not to wrestle with its emotions, seeks to + conquer regret, must leave itself no leisure to look behind. Who knows + what benefits to the world may have sprung from the sorrows of the + benefactor? As the harvest that gladdens mankind in the suns of autumn was + called forth by the rains of spring, so the griefs of youth may make the + fame of maturity. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, charmed by the beauties of the river, desired to continue the + voyage to Mayence. The rich Trevylyan persuaded the physician who had + attended her to accompany them, and they once more pursued their way along + the banks of the feudal Rhine. For what the Tiber is to the classic, the + Rhine is to the chivalric age. The steep rock and the gray dismantled + tower, the massive and rude picturesque of the feudal days, constitute the + great features of the scene; and you might almost fancy, as you glide + along, that you are sailing back adown the river of Time, and the + monuments of the pomp and power of old, rising, one after one, upon its + shores! + </p> + <p> + Vane and Du——-e, the physician, at the farther end of the + vessel, conversed upon stones and strata, in that singular pedantry of + science which strips nature to a skeleton, and prowls among the dead bones + of the world, unconscious of its living beauty. + </p> + <p> + They left Gertrude and Trevylyan to themselves; and, “bending o’er the + vessel’s laving side,” they indulged in silence the melancholy with which + each was imbued. For Gertrude began to waken, though doubtingly and at + intervals, to a sense of the short span that was granted to her life; and + over the loveliness around her there floated that sad and ineffable + interest which springs from the presentiment of our own death. They passed + the rich island of Oberwerth, and Hochheim, famous for its ruby grape, and + saw, from his mountain bed, the Lahn bear his tribute of fruits and corn + into the treasury of the Rhine. Proudly rose the tower of Niederlahnstein, + and deeply lay its shadow along the stream. It was late noon; the cattle + had sought the shade from the slanting sun, and, far beyond, the holy + castle of Marksburg raised its battlements above mountains covered with + the vine. On the water two boats had been drawn alongside each other; and + from one, now moving to the land, the splash of oars broke the general + stillness of the tide. Fast by an old tower the fishermen were busied in + their craft, but the sound of their voices did not reach the ear. It was + life, but a silent life, suited to the tranquillity of noon. + </p> + <p> + “There is something in travel,” said Gertrude, “which constantly, even + amidst the most retired spots, impresses us with the exuberance of life. + We come to those quiet nooks and find a race whose existence we never + dreamed of. In their humble path they know the same passions and tread the + same career as ourselves. The mountains shut them out from the great + world, but their village is a world in itself. And they know and heed no + more of the turbulent scenes of remote cities than our own planet of the + inhabitants of the distant stars. What then is death, but the + forgetfulness of some few hearts added to the general unconsciousness of + our existence that pervades the universe? The bubble breaks in the vast + desert of the air without a sound.” + </p> + <p> + “Why talk of death?” said Trevylyan, with a writhing smile. “These sunny + scenes should not call forth such melancholy images.” + </p> + <p> + “Melancholy,” repeated Gertrude, mechanically. “Yes, death is indeed + melancholy when we are loved!” + </p> + <p> + They stayed a short time at Niederlahnstein, for Vane was anxious to + examine the minerals that the Lahn brings into the Rhine; and the sun was + waning towards its close as they renewed their voyage. As they sailed + slowly on, Gertrude said, “How like a dream is this sentiment of + existence, when, without labour or motion, every change of scene is + brought before us; and if I am with you, dearest, I do not feel it less + resembling a dream, for I have dreamed of you lately more than ever; and + dreams have become a part of my life itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Speaking of dreams,” said Trevylyan, as they pursued that mysterious + subject, “I once during my former residence in Germany fell in with a + singular enthusiast, who had taught himself what he termed ‘A System of + Dreaming.’ When he first spoke to me upon it I asked him to explain what + he meant, which he did somewhat in the following words.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE LIFE OF DREAMS. + </h2> + <p> + “I WAS born,” said he, “with many of the sentiments of the poet, but + without the language to express them; my feelings were constantly chilled + by the intercourse of the actual world. My family, mere Germans, dull and + unimpassioned, had nothing in common with me; nor did I out of my family + find those with whom I could better sympathize. I was revolted by + friendships,—for they were susceptible to every change; I was + disappointed in love,—for the truth never approached to my ideal. + Nursed early in the lap of Romance, enamoured of the wild and the + adventurous, the commonplaces of life were to me inexpressibly tame and + joyless. And yet indolence, which belongs to the poetical character, was + more inviting than that eager and uncontemplative action which can alone + wring enterprise from life. Meditation was my natural element. I loved to + spend the noon reclined by some shady stream, and in a half sleep to shape + images from the glancing sunbeams. A dim and unreal order of philosophy, + that belongs to our nation, was my favourite intellectual pursuit; and I + sought amongst the Obscure and the Recondite the variety and emotion I + could not find in the Familiar. Thus constantly watching the operations of + the inner mind, it occurred to me at last that sleep having its own world, + but as yet a rude and fragmentary one, it might be possible to shape from + its chaos all those combinations of beauty, of power, of glory, and of + love, which were denied to me in the world in which my frame walked and + had its being. So soon as this idea came upon me, I nursed and cherished + and mused over it, till I found that the imagination began to effect the + miracle I desired. By brooding ardently, intensely, before I retired to + rest, over any especial train of thought, over any ideal creations; by + keeping the body utterly still and quiescent during the whole day; by + shutting out all living adventure, the memory of which might perplex and + interfere with the stream of events that I desired to pour forth into the + wilds of sleep, I discovered at last that I could lead in dreams a life + solely their own, and utterly distinct from the life of day. Towers and + palaces, all my heritage and seigneury, rose before me from the depths of + night; I quaffed from jewelled cups the Falernian of imperial vaults; + music from harps of celestial tone filled up the crevices of air; and the + smiles of immortal beauty flushed like sunlight over all. Thus the + adventure and the glory that I could not for my waking life obtain, was + obtained for me in sleep. I wandered with the gryphon and the gnome; I + sounded the horn at enchanted portals; I conquered in the knightly lists; + I planted my standard over battlements huge as the painter’s birth of + Babylon itself. + </p> + <p> + “But I was afraid to call forth one shape on whose loveliness to pour all + the hidden passion of my soul. I trembled lest my sleep should present me + some image which it could never restore, and, waking from which, even the + new world I had created might be left desolate forever. I shuddered lest I + should adore a vision which the first ray of morning could smite to the + grave. + </p> + <p> + “In this train of mind I began to wonder whether it might not be possible + to connect dreams together; to supply the thread that was wanting; to make + one night continue the history of the other, so as to bring together the + same shapes and the same scenes, and thus lead a connected and harmonious + life, not only in the one half of existence, but in the other, the richer + and more glorious half. No sooner did this idea present itself to me, than + I burned to accomplish it. I had before taught myself that Faith is the + great creator; that to believe fervently is to make belief true. So I + would not suffer my mind to doubt the practicability of its scheme. I shut + myself up then entirely by day, refused books, and hated the very sun, and + compelled all my thoughts (and sleep is the mirror of thought) to glide in + one direction,—the direction of my dreams,—so that from night + to night the imagination might keep up the thread of action, and I might + thus lie down full of the past dream and confident of the sequel. Not for + one day only, or for one month, did I pursue this system, but I continued + it zealously and sternly till at length it began to succeed. Who shall + tell,” cried the enthusiast,—I see him now with his deep, bright, + sunken eyes, and his wild hair thrown backward from his brow,—“the + rapture I experienced, when first, faintly and half distinct, I perceived + the harmony I had invoked dawn upon my dreams? At first there was only a + partial and desultory connection between them; my eye recognized certain + shapes, my ear certain tones common to each; by degrees these augmented in + number, and were more defined in outline. At length one fair face broke + forth from among the ruder forms, and night after night appeared mixing + with them for a moment and then vanishing, just as the mariner watches, in + a clouded sky, the moon shining through the drifting rack, and quickly + gone. My curiosity was now vividly excited; the face, with its lustrous + eyes and seraph features, roused all the emotions that no living shape had + called forth. I became enamoured of a dream, and as the statue to the + Cyprian was my creation to me; so from this intent and unceasing passion I + at length worked out my reward. My dream became more palpable; I spoke + with it; I knelt to it; my lips were pressed to its own; we exchanged the + vows of love, and morning only separated us with the certainty that at + night we should meet again. Thus then,” continued my visionary, “I + commenced a history utterly separate from the history of the world, and it + went on alternately with my harsh and chilling history of the day, equally + regular and equally continuous. And what, you ask, was that history? + Methought I was a prince in some Eastern island that had no features in + common with the colder north of my native home. By day I looked upon the + dull walls of a German town, and saw homely or squalid forms passing + before me; the sky was dim and the sun cheerless. Night came on with her + thousand stars, and brought me the dews of sleep. Then suddenly there was + a new world; the richest fruits hung from the trees in clusters of gold + and purple. Palaces of the quaint fashion of the sunnier climes, with + spiral minarets and glittering cupolas, were mirrored upon vast lakes + sheltered by the palm-tree and banana. The sun seemed a different orb, so + mellow and gorgeous were his beams; birds and winged things of all hues + fluttered in the shining air; the faces and garments of men were not of + the northern regions of the world, and their voices spoke a tongue which, + strange at first, by degrees I interpreted. Sometimes I made war upon + neighbouring kings; sometimes I chased the spotted pard through the vast + gloom of immemorial forests; my life was at once a life of enterprise and + pomp. But above all there was the history of my love! I thought there were + a thousand difficulties in the way of attaining its possession. Many were + the rocks I had to scale, and the battles to wage, and the fortresses to + storm, in order to win her as my bride. But at last” (continued the + enthusiast), “she <i>is</i> won, she is my own! Time in that wild world, + which I visit nightly, passes not so slowly as in this, and yet an hour + may be the same as a year. This continuity of existence, this successive + series of dreams, so different from the broken incoherence of other men’s + sleep, at times bewilders me with strange and suspicious thoughts. What if + this glorious sleep be a real life, and this dull waking the true repose? + Why not? What is there more faithful in the one than in the other? And + there have I garnered and collected all of pleasure that I am capable of + feeling. I seek no joy in this world; I form no ties, I feast not, nor + love, nor make merry; I am only impatient till the hour when I may + re-enter my royal realms and pour my renewed delight into the bosom of my + bright Ideal. There then have I found all that the world denied me; there + have I realized the yearning and the aspiration within me; there have I + coined the untold poetry into the Felt, the Seen!” + </p> + <p> + I found, continued Trevylyan, that this tale was corroborated by inquiry + into the visionary’s habits. He shunned society; avoided all unnecessary + movement or excitement. He fared with rigid abstemiousness, and only + appeared to feel pleasure as the day departed, and the hour of return to + his imaginary kingdom approached. He always retired to rest punctually at + a certain hour, and would sleep so soundly that a cannon fired under his + window would not arouse him. He never, which may seem singular, spoke or + moved much in his sleep, but was peculiarly calm, almost to the appearance + of lifelessness; but, discovering once that he had been watched in sleep, + he was wont afterwards carefully to secure the chamber from intrusion. His + victory over the natural incoherence of sleep had, when I first knew him, + lasted for some years; possibly what imagination first produced was + afterwards continued by habit. + </p> + <p> + I saw him again a few months subsequent to this confession, and he seemed + to me much changed. His health was broken, and his abstraction had + deepened into gloom. + </p> + <p> + I questioned him of the cause of the alteration, and he answered me with + great reluctance,— + </p> + <p> + “She is dead,” said he; “my realms are desolate! A serpent stung her, and + she died in these very arms. Vainly, when I started from my sleep in + horror and despair, vainly did I say to myself,—This is but a dream. + I shall see her again. A vision cannot die! Hath it flesh that decays; is + it not a spirit,—bodiless, indissoluble? With what terrible anxiety + I awaited the night! Again I slept, and the DREAM lay again before me, + dead and withered. Even the ideal can vanish. I assisted in the burial; I + laid her in the earth; I heaped the monumental mockery over her form. And + never since hath she, or ought like her, revisited my dreams. I see her + only when I wake; thus to wake is indeed to dream! But,” continued the + visionary in a solemn voice, “I feel myself departing from this world, and + with a fearful joy; for I think there may be a land beyond even the land + of sleep where I shall see her again,—a land in which a vision + itself may be restored.” + </p> + <p> + And in truth, concluded Trevylyan, the dreamer died shortly afterwards, + suddenly, and in his sleep. And never before, perhaps, had Fate so + literally made of a living man (with his passions and his powers, his + ambition and his love) the plaything and puppet of a dream! + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Vane, who had heard the latter part of Trevylyan’s story, + “could the German have bequeathed to us his secret, what a refuge should + we possess from the ills of earth! The dungeon and disease, poverty, + affliction, shame, would cease to be the tyrants of our lot; and to Sleep + we should confine our history and transfer our emotions.” + </p> + <p> + “Gertrude,” whispered the lover, “what his kingdom and his bride were to + the Dreamer art thou to me!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. THE BROTHERS. + </h2> + <p> + THE banks of the Rhine now shelved away into sweeping plains, and on their + right rose the once imperial city of Boppart. In no journey of similar + length do you meet with such striking instances of the mutability and + shifts of power. To find, as in the Memphian Egypt, a city sunk into a + heap of desolate ruins; the hum, the roar, the mart of nations, hushed + into the silence of ancestral tombs, is less humbling to our human vanity + than to mark, as along the Rhine, the kingly city dwindled into the humble + town or the dreary village,—decay without its grandeur, change + without the awe of its solitude! On the site on which Drusus raised his + Roman tower, and the kings of the Franks their palaces, trade now dribbles + in tobacco-pipes, and transforms into an excellent cotton factory the + antique nunnery of Konigsberg! So be it; it is the progressive order of + things,—the world itself will soon be one excellent cotton factory! + </p> + <p> + “Look,” said Trevylyan, as they sailed on, “at yonder mountain, with its + two traditionary Castles of Liebenstein and Sternfels.” + </p> + <p> + Massive and huge the ruins swelled above the green rock, at the foot of + which lay, in happier security from time and change, the clustered + cottages of the peasant, with a single spire rising above the quiet + village. + </p> + <p> + “Is there not, Albert, a celebrated legend attached to those castles?” + said Gertrude. “I think I remember to have heard their names in connection + with your profession of taleteller.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Trevylyan, “the story relates to the last lords of those + shattered towers, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You will sit here, nearer to me, and begin,” interrupted Gertrude, in her + tone of childlike command. “Come.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE BROTHERS. + + A TALE.* + + * This tale is, in reality, founded on the beautiful tradition + which belongs to Liebenstein and Sternfels. +</pre> + <p> + You must imagine then, dear Gertrude (said Trevylyan), a beautiful summer + day, and by the same faculty that none possess so richly as yourself, for + it is you who can kindle something of that divine spark even in me, you + must rebuild those shattered towers in the pomp of old; raise the gallery + and the hall; man the battlements with warders, and give the proud banners + of ancestral chivalry to wave upon the walls. But above, sloping half down + the rock, you must fancy the hanging gardens of Liebenstein, fragrant with + flowers, and basking in the noonday sun. + </p> + <p> + On the greenest turf, underneath an oak, there sat three persons, in the + bloom of youth. Two of the three were brothers; the third was an orphan + girl, whom the lord of the opposite tower of Sternfels had bequeathed to + the protection of his brother, the chief of Liebenstein. The castle itself + and the demesne that belonged to it passed away from the female line, and + became the heritage of Otho, the orphan’s cousin, and the younger of the + two brothers now seated on the turf. + </p> + <p> + “And oh,” said the elder, whose name was Warbeck, “you have twined a + chaplet for my brother; have you not, dearest Leoline, a simple flower for + me?” + </p> + <p> + The beautiful orphan (for beautiful she was, Gertrude, as the heroine of + the tale you bid me tell ought to be,—should she not have to the + dreams of my fancy your lustrous hair, and your sweet smile, and your eyes + of blue, that are never, never silent? Ah, pardon me, that in a former + tale, I denied the heroine the beauty of your face, and remember that to + atone for it, I endowed her with the beauty of your mind)—the + beautiful orphan blushed to her temples, and culling from the flowers in + her lap the freshest of the roses, began weaving them into a wreath for + Warbeck. + </p> + <p> + “It would be better,” said the gay Otho, “to make my sober brother a + chaplet of the rue and cypress; the rose is much too bright a flower for + so serious a knight.” + </p> + <p> + Leoline held up her hand reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “Let him laugh, dearest cousin,” said Warbeck, gazing passionately on her + changing cheek; “and thou, Leoline, believe that the silent stream runs + the deepest.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, they heard the voice of the old chief, their father, + calling aloud for Leoline; for ever when he returned from the chase he + wanted her gentle presence; and the hall was solitary to him if the light + sound of her step and the music of her voice were not heard in welcome. + </p> + <p> + Leoline hastened to her guardian, and the brothers were left alone. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be more dissimilar than the features and the respective + characters of Otho and Warbeck. Otho’s countenance was flushed with the + brown hues of health; his eyes were of the brightest hazel: his dark hair + wreathed in short curls round his open and fearless brow; the jest ever + echoed on his lips, and his step was bounding as the foot of the hunter of + the Alps. Bold and light was his spirit; if at times he betrayed the + haughty insolence of youth, he felt generously, and though not ever ready + to confess sorrow for a fault, he was at least ready to brave peril for a + friend. + </p> + <p> + But Warbeck’s frame, though of equal strength, was more slender in its + proportions than that of his brother; the fair long hair that + characterized his northern race hung on either side of a countenance calm + and pale, and deeply impressed with thought, even to sadness. His + features, more majestic and regular than Otho’s, rarely varied in their + expression. More resolute even than Otho, he was less impetuous; more + impassioned, he was also less capricious. + </p> + <p> + The brothers remained silent after Leoline had left them. Otho carelessly + braced on his sword, that he had laid aside on the grass; but Warbeck + gathered up the flowers that had been touched by the soft hand of Leoline, + and placed them in his bosom. + </p> + <p> + The action disturbed Otho; he bit his lip, and changed colour; at length + he said, with a forced laugh,— + </p> + <p> + “It must be confessed, brother, that you carry your affection for our fair + cousin to a degree that even relationship seems scarcely to warrant.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said Warbeck, calmly; “I love her with a love surpassing + that of blood.” + </p> + <p> + “How!” said Otho, fiercely: “do you dare to think of Leoline as a bride?” + </p> + <p> + “Dare!” repeated Warbeck, turning yet paler than his wonted hue. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have said the word! Know, Warbeck, that I, too, love Leoline; I, + too, claim her as my bride; and never, while I can wield a sword, never, + while I wear the spurs of knighthood, will I render my claim to a living + rival,—even,” he added, sinking his voice, “though that rival be my + brother!” + </p> + <p> + Warbeck answered not; his very soul seemed stunned; he gazed long and + wistfully on his brother, and then, turning his face away, ascended the + rock without uttering a single word. + </p> + <p> + This silence startled Otho. Accustomed to vent every emotion of his own, + he could not comprehend the forbearance of his brother; he knew his high + and brave nature too well to imagine that it arose from fear. Might it not + be contempt, or might he not, at this moment, intend to seek their father; + and, the first to proclaim his love for the orphan, advance, also, the + privilege of the elder born? As these suspicions flashed across him, the + haughty Otho strode to his brother’s side, and laying his hand on his arm, + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Whither goest thou; and dost thou consent to surrender Leoline?” + </p> + <p> + “Does she love thee, Otho?” answered Warbeck, breaking silence at last; + and his voice spoke so deep an anguish, that it arrested the passions of + Otho even at their height. + </p> + <p> + “It is thou who art now silent,” continued Warbeck; “speak. Doth she love + thee, and has her lip confessed it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have believed that she loved me,” faltered Otho; “but she is of maiden + bearing, and her lip, at least, has never told it.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough,” said Warbeck; “release your hold.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” said Otho, his suspicions returning; “stay,—yet one word; + dost thou seek my father? He ever honoured thee more than me: wilt thou + own to him thy love, and insist on thy right of birth? By my soul and my + hope of heaven, do it, and one of us two must fall!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy!” answered Warbeck, bitterly; “how little thou canst read the + heart of one who loves truly! Thinkest thou I would wed her if she loved + thee? Thinkest thou I could, even to be blessed myself, give her one + moment’s pain? Out on the thought! away!” + </p> + <p> + “Then wilt not thou seek our father?” said Otho, abashed. + </p> + <p> + “Our father!—has our father the keeping of Leoline’s affection?” + answered Warbeck; and shaking off his brother’s grasp, he sought the way + to the castle. + </p> + <p> + As he entered the hall, he heard the voice of Leoline; she was singing to + the old chief one of the simple ballads of the time that the warrior and + the hunter loved to hear. He paused lest he should break the spell (a + spell stronger than a sorcerer’s to him), and gazing upon Leoline’s + beautiful form, his heart sank within him. His brother and himself had + each that day, as they sat in the gardens, given her a flower; his flower + was the fresher and the rarer; his he saw not, but she wore his brother’s + in her bosom! + </p> + <p> + The chief, lulled by the music and wearied with the toils of the chase, + sank into sleep as the song ended, and Warbeck, coming forward, motioned + to Leoline to follow him. He passed into a retired and solitary walk, and + when they were a little distance from the castle, Warbeck turned round, + and taking Leoline’s hand gently, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us rest here for one moment, dearest cousin; I have much on my heart + to say to thee.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is there,” answered Leoline, as they sat on a mossy bank, with + the broad Rhine glancing below, “what is there that my kind Warbeck would + ask of me? Ah, would it might be some favour, something in poor Leoline’s + power to grant; for ever from my birth you have been to me most tender, + most kind. You, I have often heard them say; taught my first steps to + walk; you formed my infant lips into language, and, in after years, when + my wild cousin was far away in the forests at the chase, you would brave + his gay jest and remain at home, lest Leoline should be weary in the + solitude. Ah, would I could repay you!” + </p> + <p> + Warbeck turned away his cheek; his heart was very full, and it was some + moments before he summoned courage to reply. + </p> + <p> + “My fair cousin,” said he, “those were happy days; but they were the days + of childhood. New cares and new thoughts have now come on us; but I am + still thy friend, Leoline, and still thou wilt confide in me thy young + sorrows and thy young hopes, as thou ever didst. Wilt thou not, Leoline?” + </p> + <p> + “Canst thou ask me?” said Leoline; and Warbeck, gazing on her face, saw + that though her eyes were full of tears, they yet looked steadily upon + his; and he knew that she loved him only as a sister. + </p> + <p> + He sighed, and paused again ere he resumed. “Enough,” said he; “now to my + task. Once on a time, dear cousin, there lived among these mountains a + certain chief who had two sons, and an orphan like thyself dwelt also in + his halls. And the elder son—but no matter, let us not waste words + on <i>him</i>!—the younger son, then, loved the orphan dearly,—more + dearly than cousins love; and fearful of refusal, he prayed the elder one + to urge his suit to the orphan. Leoline, my tale is done. Canst thou not + love Otho as he loves thee?” + </p> + <p> + And now lifting his eyes to Leoline, he saw that she trembled violently, + and her cheek was covered with blushes. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” continued he, mastering himself, “is not that flower his—present—a + token that he is chiefly in thy thoughts?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Warbeck! do not deem me ungrateful that I wear not yours also; but—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Warbeck, hastily; “I am but as thy brother; is not Otho more? + He is young, brave, and beautiful. God grant that he may deserve thee, if + thou givest him so rich a gift as thy affections!” + </p> + <p> + “I saw less of Otho in my childhood,” said Leoline, evasively; “therefore, + his kindness of late years seemed stranger to me than thine.” + </p> + <p> + “And thou wilt not then reject him? Thou wilt be his bride?” + </p> + <p> + “And <i>thy</i> sister,” answered Leoline. + </p> + <p> + “Bless thee, mine own dear cousin! one brother’s kiss then, and farewell! + Otho shall thank thee for himself.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed her forehead calmly, and, turning away, plunged into the + thicket; then, nor till then, he gave vent to such emotions as, had + Leoline seen them, Otho’s suit had been lost forever; for passionately, + deeply as in her fond and innocent heart she loved Otho, the <i>happiness</i> + of Warbeck was not less dear to her. + </p> + <p> + When the young knight had recovered his self-possession he went in search + of Otho. He found him alone in the wood, leaning with folded arms against + a tree, and gazing moodily on the ground. Warbeck’s noble heart was + touched at his brother’s dejection. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer thee, Otho,” said he; “I bring thee no bad tidings; I have seen + Leoline, I have conversed with her—nay, start not,—she loves + thee! she is thine!” + </p> + <p> + “Generous, generous Warbeck!” exclaimed Otho; and he threw himself on his + brother’s neck. “No, no,” said he, “this must not be; thou hast the elder + claim,—I resign her to thee. Forgive me my waywardness, brother, + forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + “Think of the past no more,” said Warbeck; “the love of Leoline is an + excuse for greater offences than thine. And now, be kind to her; her + nature is soft and keen. <i>I</i> know her well; for <i>I</i> have studied + her faintest wish. Thou art hasty and quick of ire; but remember that a + word wounds where love is deep. For my sake, as for hers, think more of + her happiness than thine own; now seek her,—she waits to hear from + thy lips the tale that sounded cold upon mine.” + </p> + <p> + With that he left his brother, and, once more re-entering the castle, he + went into the hall of his ancestors. His father still slept; he put his + hand on his gray hair, and blessed him; then stealing up to his chamber, + he braced on his helm and armour, and thrice kissing the hilt of his + sword, said, with a flushed cheek,— + </p> + <p> + “Henceforth be <i>thou</i> my bride!” Then passing from the castle, he + sped by the most solitary paths down the rock, gained the Rhine, and + hailing one of the numerous fishermen of the river, won the opposite + shore; and alone, but not sad, for his high heart supported him, and + Leoline at least was happy, he hastened to Frankfort. + </p> + <p> + The town was all gayety and life, arms clanged at every corner, the sounds + of martial music, the wave of banners, the glittering of plumed casques, + the neighing of war-steeds, all united to stir the blood and inflame the + sense. Saint Bertrand had lifted the sacred cross along the shores of the + Rhine, and the streets of Frankfort witnessed with what success! + </p> + <p> + On that same day Warbeck assumed the sacred badge, and was enlisted among + the knights of the Emperor Conrad. + </p> + <p> + We must suppose some time to have elapsed, and Otho and Leoline were not + yet wedded; for, in the first fervour of his gratitude to his brother, + Otho had proclaimed to his father and to Leoline the conquest Warbeck had + obtained over himself; and Leoline, touched to the heart, would not + consent that the wedding should take place immediately. “Let him, at + least,” said she, “not be insulted by a premature festivity; and give him + time, amongst the lofty beauties he will gaze upon in a far country, to + forget, Otho, that he once loved her who is the beloved of thee.” + </p> + <p> + The old chief applauded this delicacy; and even Otho, in the first flush + of his feelings towards his brother, did not venture to oppose it. They + settled, then, that the marriage should take place at the end of a year. + </p> + <p> + Months rolled away, and an absent and moody gloom settled upon Otho’s + brow. In his excursions with his gay companions among the neighbouring + towns, he heard of nothing but the glory of the Crusaders, of the homage + paid to the heroes of the Cross at the courts they visited, of the + adventures of their life, and the exciting spirit that animated their war. + In fact, neither minstrel nor priest suffered the theme to grow cold; and + the fame of those who had gone forth to the holy strife gave at once + emulation and discontent to the youths who remained behind. + </p> + <p> + “And my brother enjoys this ardent and glorious life,” said the impatient + Otho; “while I, whose arm is as strong, and whose heart is as bold, + languish here listening to the dull tales of a hoary sire and the silly + songs of an orphan girl.” His heart smote him at the last sentence, but he + had already begun to weary of the gentle love of Leoline. Perhaps when he + had no longer to gain a triumph over a rival the excitement palled; or + perhaps his proud spirit secretly chafed at being conquered by his brother + in generosity, even when outshining him in the success of love. + </p> + <p> + But poor Leoline, once taught that she was to consider Otho her betrothed, + surrendered her heart entirely to his control. His wild spirit, his dark + beauty, his daring valour, won while they awed her; and in the fitfulness + of his nature were those perpetual springs of hope and fear that are the + fountains of ever-agitated love. She saw with increasing grief the change + that was growing over Otho’s mind; nor did she divine the cause. “Surely I + have not offended him?” thought she. + </p> + <p> + Among the companions of Otho was one who possessed a singular sway over + him. He was a knight of that mysterious Order of the Temple, which + exercised at one time so great a command over the minds of men. + </p> + <p> + A severe and dangerous wound in a brawl with an English knight had + confined the Templar at Frankfort, and prevented his joining the Crusade. + During his slow recovery he had formed an intimacy with Otho, and, taking + up his residence at the castle of Liebenstein, had been struck with the + beauty of Leoline. Prevented by his oath from marriage, he allowed himself + a double license in love, and doubted not, could he disengage the young + knight from his betrothed, that she would add a new conquest to the many + he had already achieved. Artfully therefore he painted to Otho the various + attractions of the Holy Cause; and, above all, he failed not to describe, + with glowing colours, the beauties who, in the gorgeous East, + distinguished with a prodigal favour the warriors of the Cross. Dowries, + unknown in the more sterile mountains of the Rhine, accompanied the hand + of these beauteous maidens; and even a prince’s daughter was not deemed, + he said, too lofty a marriage for the heroes who might win kingdoms for + themselves. + </p> + <p> + “To me,” said the Templar, “such hopes are eternally denied. But you, were + you not already betrothed, what fortunes might await you!” + </p> + <p> + By such discourses the ambition of Otho was perpetually aroused; they + served to deepen his discontent at his present obscurity, and to convert + to distaste the only solace it afforded in the innocence and affection of + Leoline. + </p> + <p> + One night, a minstrel sought shelter from the storm in the halls of + Liebenstein. His visit was welcomed by the chief, and he repaid the + hospitality he had received by the exercise of his art. He sang of the + chase, and the gaunt hound started from the hearth. He sang of love, and + Otho, forgetting his restless dreams, approached to Leoline, and laid + himself at her feet. Louder then and louder rose the strain. The minstrel + sang of war; he painted the feats of the Crusaders; he plunged into the + thickest of the battle; the steed neighed; the trump sounded; and you + might have heard the ringing of the steel. But when he came to signalize + the names of the boldest knights, high among the loftiest sounded the name + of Sir Warbeck of Liebenstein. Thrice had he saved the imperial banner; + two chargers slain beneath him, he had covered their bodies with the + fiercest of the foe. + </p> + <p> + Gentle in the tent and terrible in the fray, the minstrel should forget + his craft ere the Rhine should forget its hero. The chief started from his + seat. Leoline clasped the minstrel’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Speak,—you have seen him, he lives, he is honoured?” + </p> + <p> + “I myself am but just from Palestine, brave chief and noble maiden. I saw + the gallant knight of Liebenstein at the right hand of the imperial + Conrad. And he, ladye, was the only knight whom admiration shone upon + without envy, its shadow. Who then,” continued the minstrel, once more + striking his harp, “who then would remain inglorious in the hall? Shall + not the banners of his sires reproach him as they wave; and shall not + every voice from Palestine strike shame into his soul?” + </p> + <p> + “Right!” cried Otho, suddenly, and flinging himself at the feet of his + father. “Thou hearest what my brother has done, and thine aged eyes weep + tears of joy. Shall I only dishonour thine old age with a rusted sword? + No! grant me, like my brother, to go forth with the heroes of the Cross!” + </p> + <p> + “Noble youth,” cried the harper, “therein speaks the soul of Sir Warbeck; + hear him, sir, knight,—hear the noble youth.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven cries aloud in his voice,” said the Templar, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “My son, I cannot chide thine ardour,” said the old chief, raising him + with trembling hands; “but Leoline, thy betrothed?” + </p> + <p> + Pale as a statue, with ears that doubted their sense as they drank in the + cruel words of her lover, stood the orphan. She did not speak, she + scarcely breathed; she sank into her seat, and gazed upon the ground, + till, at the speech of the chief both maiden pride and maiden tenderness + restored her consciousness, and she said,— + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i>, uncle! Shall <i>I</i> bid Otho stay when his wishes bid him + depart?” + </p> + <p> + “He will return to thee, noble ladye, covered with glory,” said the + harper: but Otho said no more. The touching voice of Leoline went to his + soul; he resumed his seat in silence; and Leoline, going up to him, + whispered gently, “Act as though I were not;” and left the hall to commune + with her heart and to weep alone. + </p> + <p> + “I can wed her before I go,” said Otho, suddenly, as he sat that night in + the Templar’s chamber. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that is true! and leave thy bride in the first week,—a hard + trial!” + </p> + <p> + “Better than incur the chance of never calling her mine. Dear, kind, + beloved Leoline!” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly, she deserves all from thee; and, indeed, it is no small + sacrifice, at thy years and with thy mien, to renounce forever all + interest among the noble maidens thou wilt visit. Ah, from the galleries + of Constantinople what eyes will look down on thee, and what ears, + learning that thou art Otho the bridegroom, will turn away, caring for + thee no more! A bridegroom without a bride! Nay, man, much as the Cross + wants warriors, I am enough thy friend to tell thee, if thou weddest, to + stay peaceably at home, and forget in the chase the labours of war, from + which thou wouldst strip the ambition of love.” + </p> + <p> + “I would I knew what were best,” said Otho, irresolutely. “My brother—ha, + shall he forever excel me? But Leoline, how will she grieve,—she who + left him for me!” + </p> + <p> + “Was that thy fault?” said the Templar, gayly. “It may many times chance + to thee again to be preferred to another. Troth, it is a sin under which + the conscience may walk lightly enough. But sleep on it, Otho; my eyes + grow heavy.” + </p> + <p> + The next day Otho sought Leoline, and proposed to her that their wedding + should precede his parting; but so embarrassed was he, so divided between + two wishes, that Leoline, offended, hurt, stung by his coldness, refused + the proposal at once. She left him lest he should see her weep, and then—then + she repented even of her just pride! + </p> + <p> + But Otho, striving to appease his conscience with the belief that hers now + was the <i>sole</i> fault, busied himself in preparations for his + departure. Anxious to outshine his brother, he departed not as Warbeck, + alone and unattended, but levying all the horse, men, and money that his + domain of Sternfels—which he had not yet tenanted—would + afford, he repaired to Frankfort at the head of a glittering troop. + </p> + <p> + The Templar, affecting a relapse, tarried behind, and promised to join him + at that Constantinople of which he had so loudly boasted. Meanwhile he + devoted his whole powers of pleasing to console the unhappy orphan. The + force of her simple love was, however, stronger than all his arts. In vain + he insinuated doubts of Otho,—she refused to hear them; in vain he + poured with the softest accents into her ear the witchery of flattery and + song,—she turned heedlessly away; and only pained by the courtesies + that had so little resemblance to Otho, she shut herself up in her + chamber, and pined in solitude for her forsaker. + </p> + <p> + The Templar now resolved to attempt darker arts to obtain power over her, + when, fortunately, he was summoned suddenly away by a mission from the + Grand Master of so high import, that it could not be resisted by a passion + stronger in his breast than love,—the passion of ambition. He left + the castle to its solitude; and Otho peopling it no more with his gay + companions, no solitude <i>could</i> be more unfrequently disturbed. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, though, ever and anon, the fame of Warbeck reached their ears, + it came unaccompanied with that of Otho,—of him they had no tidings; + and thus the love of the tender orphan was kept alive by the perpetual + restlessness of fear. At length the old chief died, and Leoline was left + utterly alone. + </p> + <p> + One evening as she sat with her maidens in the hall, the ringing of a + steed’s hoofs was heard in the outer court; a horn sounded, the heavy + gates were unbarred, and a knight of a stately mien and covered with the + mantle of the Cross entered the hall. He stopped for one moment at the + entrance, as if overpowered by his emotion; in the next he had clasped + Leoline to his breast. + </p> + <p> + “Dost thou not recognize thy cousin Warbeck?” He doffed his casque, and + she saw that majestic brow which, unlike Otho’s, had never changed or been + clouded in its aspect to her. + </p> + <p> + “The war is suspended for the present,” said he. “I learned my father’s + death, and I have returned home to hang up my banner in the hall and spend + my days in peace.” + </p> + <p> + Time and the life of camps had worked their change upon Warbeck’s face; + the fair hair, deepened in its shade, was worn from the temples, and + disclosed one scar that rather aided the beauty of a countenance that had + always something high and martial in its character; but the calm it had + once worn had settled down into sadness; he conversed more rarely than + before, and though he smiled not less often, nor less kindly, the smile + had more of thought, and the kindness had forgot its passion. He had + apparently conquered a love that was so early crossed, but not that + fidelity of remembrance which made Leoline dearer to him than all others, + and forbade him to replace the images he had graven upon his soul. + </p> + <p> + The orphan’s lips trembled with the name of Otho, but a certain + recollection stifled even her anxiety. Warbeck hastened to forestall her + questions. Otho was well, he said, and sojourning at Constantinople; he + had lingered there so long that the crusade had terminated without his + aid: doubtless now he would speedily return,—a month, a week, nay, a + day, might restore him to her side. + </p> + <p> + Leoline was inexpressibly consoled, yet something remained untold. Why, so + eager for the strife of the sacred tomb, had he thus tarried at + Constantinople? She wondered, she wearied conjecture, but she did not dare + to search further. + </p> + <p> + The generous Warbeck concealed from her that Otho led a life of the most + reckless and indolent dissipation,—wasting his wealth in the + pleasures of the Greek court, and only occupying his ambition with the + wild schemes of founding a principality in those foreign climes, which the + enterprises of the Norman adventurers had rendered so alluring to the + knightly bandits of the age. + </p> + <p> + The cousins resumed their old friendship, and Warbeck believed that it was + friendship alone. + </p> + <p> + They walked again among the gardens in which their childhood had strayed; + they sat again on the green turf whereon they had woven flowers; they + looked down on the eternal mirror of the Rhine,—ah! could it have + reflected the same unawakened freshness of their life’s early spring! + </p> + <p> + The grave and contemplative mind of Warbeck had not been so contented with + the honours of war but that it had sought also those calmer sources of + emotion which were yet found among the sages of the East. He had drunk at + the fountain of the wisdom of those distant climes, and had acquired the + habits of meditation which were indulged by those wiser tribes from which + the Crusaders brought back to the North the knowledge that was destined to + enlighten their posterity. Warbeck, therefore, had little in common with + the ruder chiefs around; he did not summon them to his board; nor attend + at their noisy wassails. Often late at night, in yon shattered tower, his + lonely lamp shone still over the mighty stream, and his only relief to + loneliness was in the presence and the song of his soft cousin. + </p> + <p> + Months rolled on, when suddenly a vague and fearful rumour reached the + castle of Liebenstein. Otho was returning home to the neighbouring tower + of Sternfels; but not alone. He brought back with him a Greek bride of + surprising beauty, and dowered with almost regal wealth. Leoline was the + first to discredit the rumour; Leoline was soon the only one who + disbelieved. + </p> + <p> + Bright in the summer noon flashed the array of horsemen; far up the steep + ascent wound the gorgeous cavalcade; the lonely towers of Liebenstein + heard the echo of many a laugh and peal of merriment. Otho bore home his + bride to the hall of Sternfels. + </p> + <p> + That night there was a great banquet in Otho’s castle; the lights shone + from every casement, and music swelled loud and ceaselessly within. + </p> + <p> + By the side of Otho, glittering with the prodigal jewels of the East, sat + the Greek. Her dark locks, her flashing eye, the false colours of her + complexion, dazzled the eyes of her guests. On her left hand sat the + Templar. + </p> + <p> + “By the holy rood,” quoth the Templar, gayly, though he crossed himself as + he spoke, “we shall scare the owls to-night on those grim towers of + Liebenstein. Thy grave brother, Sir Otho, will have much to do to comfort + his cousin when she sees what a gallant life she would have led with + thee.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor damsel!” said the Greek, with affected pity, “doubtless she will now + be reconciled to the rejected one. I hear he is a knight of a comely + mien.” + </p> + <p> + “Peace!” said Otho, sternly, and quaffing a large goblet of wine. + </p> + <p> + The Greek bit her lip, and glanced meaningly at the Templar, who returned + the glance. + </p> + <p> + “Nought but a beauty such as thine can win my pardon,” said Otho, turning + to his bride, and gazing passionately in her face. + </p> + <p> + The Greek smiled. + </p> + <p> + Well sped the feast, the laugh deepened, the wine circled, when Otho’s eye + rested on a guest at the bottom of the board, whose figure was mantled + from head to foot, and whose face was covered by a dark veil. + </p> + <p> + “Beshrew me!” said he, aloud, “but this is scarce courteous at our revel: + will the stranger vouchsafe to unmask?” + </p> + <p> + These words turned all eyes to the figure, and they who sat next it + perceived that it trembled violently; at length it rose, and walking + slowly, but with grace, to the fair Greek, it laid beside her a wreath of + flowers. + </p> + <p> + “It is a simple gift, ladye,” said the stranger, in a voice of such + sweetness that the rudest guest was touched by it; “but it is all I can + offer, and the bride of Otho should not be without a gift at my hands. May + ye both be happy!” + </p> + <p> + With these words, the stranger turned and passed from the hall silent as a + shadow. + </p> + <p> + “Bring back the stranger!” cried the Greek, recovering her surprise. + Twenty guests sprang up to obey her mandate. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said Otho, waving his hand impatiently. “Touch her not, heed her + not, at your peril.” + </p> + <p> + The Greek bent over the flowers to conceal her anger, and from amongst + them dropped the broken half of a ring. Otho recognized it at once; it was + the broken half of that ring which he had broken with his betrothed. Alas! + he required not such a sign to convince him that that figure, so full of + ineffable grace, that touching voice, that simple action so tender in its + sentiment, that gift, that blessing, came only from the forsaken and + forgiving Leoline. + </p> + <p> + But Warbeck, alone in his solitary tower, paced to and fro with agitated + steps. Deep, undying wrath at his brother’s falsehood mingled with one + burning, one delicious hope. He confessed now that he had deceived himself + when he thought his passion was no more; was there any longer a bar to his + union with Leoline? + </p> + <p> + In that delicacy which was breathed into him by his love, he had forborne + to seek, or to offer her the insult of consolation. He felt that the shock + should be borne alone, and yet he pined, he thirsted, to throw himself at + her feet. + </p> + <p> + Nursing these contending thoughts, he was aroused by a knock at his door; + he opened it. The passage was thronged by Leoline’s maidens, pale, + anxious, weeping. Leoline had left the castle, with but one female + attendant, none knew whither; they knew too soon. From the hall of + Sternfels she had passed over in the dark and inclement night to the + valley in which the convent of Bornhofen offered to the weary of spirit + and the broken of heart a refuge at the shrine of God. + </p> + <p> + At daybreak the next morning, Warbeck was at the convent’s gate. He saw + Leoline. What a change one night of suffering had made in that face, which + was the fountain of all loveliness to him! He clasped her in his arms; he + wept; he urged all that love could urge: he besought her to accept that + heart which had never wronged her memory by a thought. “Oh, Leoline! didst + thou not say once that these arms nursed thy childhood; that this voice + soothed thine early sorrows? Ah, trust to them again and forever. From a + love that forsook thee turn to the love that never swerved.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Leoline; “no. What would the chivalry of which thou art the + boast,—what would they say of thee, wert thou to wed one affianced + and deserted, who tarried years for another, and brought to thine arms + only that heart which he had abandoned? No; and even if thou, as I know + thou wouldst be, wert callous to such wrong of thy high name, shall I + bring to thee a broken heart and bruised spirit? Shalt thou wed sorrow and + not joy; and shall sighs that will not cease, and tears that may not be + dried, be the only dowry of thy bride? Thou, too, for whom all blessings + should be ordained! No, forget me; forget thy poor Leoline! She hath + nothing but prayers for thee.” + </p> + <p> + In vain Warbeck pleaded; in vain he urged all that passion and truth could + urge; the springs of earthly love were forever dried up in the orphan’s + heart, and her resolution was immovable. She tore herself from his arms, + and the gate of the convent creaked harshly on his ear. + </p> + <p> + A new and stern emotion now wholly possessed him; though naturally mild + and gentle, he cherished anger, when once it was aroused, with the + strength of a calm mind. Leoline’s tears, her sufferings, her wrongs, her + uncomplaining spirit, the change already stamped upon her face,—all + cried aloud to him for vengeance. “She is an orphan,” said he, bitterly; + “she hath none to protect, to redress her, save me alone. My father’s + charge over her forlorn youth descends of right to me. What matters it + whether her forsaker be my brother? He is <i>her</i> foe. Hath he not + crushed her heart? Hath he not consigned her to sorrow till the grave? And + with what insult! no warning, no excuse; with lewd wassailers keeping + revel for his new bridals in the hearing—before the sight—of + his betrothed! Enough! the time hath come when, to use his own words, ‘One + of us two must fall!’” He half drew his sword as he spoke, and thrusting + it back violently into the sheath, strode home to his solitary castle. The + sound of steeds and of the hunting horn met him at his portal; the bridal + train of Sternfels, all mirth and gladness, were parting for the chase. + </p> + <p> + That evening a knight in complete armour entered the banquet-hall of + Sternfels, and defied Otho, on the part of Warbeck of Liebenstein, to + mortal combat. + </p> + <p> + Even the Templar was startled by so unnatural a challenge; but Otho, + reddening, took up the gage, and the day and spot were fixed. + Discontented, wroth with himself, a savage gladness seized him; he longed + to wreak his desperate feelings even on his brother. Nor had he ever in + his jealous heart forgiven that brother his virtues and his renown. + </p> + <p> + At the appointed hour the brothers met as foes. Warbeck’s vizor was up, + and all the settled sternness of his soul was stamped upon his brow. But + Otho, more willing to brave the arm than to face the front of his brother, + kept his vizor down; the Templar stood by him with folded arms. It was a + study in human passions to his mocking mind. Scarce had the first trump + sounded to this dread conflict, when a new actor entered on the scene. The + rumour of so unprecedented an event had not failed to reach the convent of + Bornhofen; and now, two by two, came the sisters of the holy shrine, and + the armed men made way, as with trailing garments and veiled faces they + swept along into the very lists. At that moment one from amongst them left + her sisters with a slow majestic pace, and paused not till she stood right + between the brother foes. + </p> + <p> + “Warbeck,” she said in a hollow voice, that curdled up his dark spirit as + it spoke, “is it thus thou wouldst prove thy love, and maintain thy trust + over the fatherless orphan whom thy sire bequeathed to thy care? Shall I + have murder on my soul?” At that question she paused, and those who heard + it were struck dumb, and shuddered. “The murder of one man by the hand of + his own brother! Away, Warbeck! <i>I command</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I forget thy wrongs, Leoline?” said Warbeck. + </p> + <p> + “Wrongs! they united me to God! they are forgiven, they are no more. Earth + has deserted me, but Heaven hath taken me to its arms. Shall I murmur at + the change? And thou, Otho”—here her voice faltered—“thou, + does thy conscience smite thee not? Wouldst thou atone for robbing me of + hope by barring against me the future? Wretch that I should be, could I + dream of mercy, could I dream of comfort, if thy brother fell by thy sword + in my cause? Otho, I have pardoned thee, and blessed thee and thine. Once, + perhaps, thou didst love me; remember how I loved thee,—cast down + thine arms.” + </p> + <p> + Otho gazed at the veiled form before him. Where had the soft Leoline + learned to command? He turned to his brother; he felt all that he had + inflicted upon both; and casting his sword upon the ground, he knelt at + the feet of Leoline, and kissed her garment with a devotion that votary + never lavished on a holier saint. + </p> + <p> + The spell that lay over the warriors around was broken; there was one loud + cry of congratulation and joy. “And thou, Warbeck?” said Leoline, turning + to the spot where, still motionless and haughty, Warbeck stood. + </p> + <p> + “Have I ever rebelled against thy will?” said he, softly; and buried the + point of his sword in the earth. “Yet, Leoline, yet,” added he, looking at + his kneeling brother, “yet art thou already better avenged than by this + steel!” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art! thou art!” cried Otho, smiting his breast; and slowly, and + scarce noting the crowd that fell back from his path, Warbeck left the + lists. + </p> + <p> + Leoline said no more; her divine errand was fulfilled. She looked long and + wistfully after the stately form of the knight of Liebenstein, and then, + with a slight sigh, she turned to Otho, “This is the last time we shall + meet on earth. Peace be with us all!” + </p> + <p> + She then, with the same majestic and collected bearing, passed on towards + the sisterhood; and as, in the same solemn procession, they glided back + towards the convent, there was not a man present—no, not even the + hardened Templar—who would not, like Otho, have bent his knee to + Leoline. + </p> + <p> + Once more Otho plunged into the wild revelry of the age; his castle was + thronged with guests, and night after night the lighted halls shone down + athwart the tranquil Rhine. The beauty of the Greek, the wealth of Otho, + the fame of the Templar, attracted all the chivalry from far and near. + Never had the banks of the Rhine known so hospitable a lord as the knight + of Sternfels. Yet gloom seized him in the midst of gladness, and the revel + was welcome only as the escape from remorse. The voice of scandal, + however, soon began to mingle with that of envy at the pomp of Otho. The + fair Greek, it was said, weary of her lord, lavished her smiles on others; + the young and the fair were always most acceptable at the castle; and, + above all, her guilty love for the Templar scarcely affected disguise. + Otho alone appeared unconscious of the rumour; and though he had begun to + neglect his bride, he relaxed not in his intimacy with the Templar. + </p> + <p> + It was noon, and the Greek was sitting in her bower alone with her + suspected lover; the rich perfumes of the East mingled with the fragrance + of flowers, and various luxuries, unknown till then in those northern + shores, gave a soft and effeminate character to the room. + </p> + <p> + “I tell thee,” said the Greek, petulantly, “that he begins to suspect; + that I have seen him watch thee, and mutter as he watched, and play with + the hilt of his dagger. Better let us fly ere it is too late, for his + vengeance would be terrible were it once roused against us. Ah, why did I + ever forsake my own sweet land for these barbarous shores! There, love is + not considered eternal, nor inconstancy a crime worthy death.” + </p> + <p> + “Peace, pretty one!” said the Templar, carelessly; “thou knowest not the + laws of our foolish chivalry. Thinkest thou I could fly from a knight’s + halls like a thief in the night? Why, verily, even the red cross would not + cover such dishonour. If thou fearest that thy dull lord suspects, let us + part. The emperor hath sent to me from Frankfort. Ere evening I might be + on my way thither.” + </p> + <p> + “And I left to brave the barbarian’s revenge alone? Is this thy chivalry?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, prate not so wildly,” answered the Templar. “Surely, when the object + of his suspicion is gone, thy woman’s art and thy Greek wiles can easily + allay the jealous fiend. Do I not know thee, Glycera? Why, thou wouldst + fool all men—save a Templar.” + </p> + <p> + “And thou, cruel, wouldst thou leave me?” said the Greek, weeping. “How + shall I live without thee?” + </p> + <p> + The Templar laughed slightly. “Can such eyes ever weep without a + comforter? But farewell; I must not be found with thee. To-morrow I depart + for Frankfort; we shall meet again.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the door closed on the Templar, the Greek rose, and pacing the + room, said, “Selfish, selfish! how could I ever trust him? Yet I dare not + brave Otho alone. Surely it was his step that disturbed us in our + yesterday’s interview? Nay, I will fly. I can never want a companion.” + </p> + <p> + She clapped her hands; a young page appeared; she threw herself on her + seat and wept bitterly. + </p> + <p> + The page approached, and love was mingled with his compassion. + </p> + <p> + “Why weepest thou, dearest lady?” said he. “Is there aught in which + Conrad’s services—services!—ah, thou hast read his heart—<i>his + devotion</i> may avail?” + </p> + <p> + Otho had wandered out the whole day alone; his vassals had observed that + his brow was more gloomy than its wont, for he usually concealed whatever + might prey within. Some of the most confidential of his servitors he had + conferred with, and the conference had deepened the shadow of his + countenance. He returned at twilight; the Greek did not honour the repast + with her presence. She was unwell, and not to be disturbed. The gay + Templar was the life of the board. + </p> + <p> + “Thou carriest a sad brow to-day, Sir Otho,” said he; “good faith, thou + hast caught it from the air of Liebenstein.” + </p> + <p> + “I have something troubles me,” answered Otho, forcing a smile, “which I + would fain impart to thy friendly bosom. The night is clear and the moon + is up, let us forth alone into the garden.” + </p> + <p> + The Templar rose, and he forgot not to gird on his sword as he followed + the knight. + </p> + <p> + Otho led the way to one of the most distant terraces that overhung the + Rhine. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Templar,” said he, pausing, “answer me one question on thy knightly + honour. Was it thy step that left my lady’s bower yester-eve at vesper?” + </p> + <p> + Startled by so sudden a query, the wily Templar faltered in his reply. + </p> + <p> + The red blood mounted to Otho’s brow. “Nay, lie not, sir knight; these + eyes, thanks to God! have not witnessed, but these ears have heard from + others of my dishonour.” + </p> + <p> + As Otho spoke, the Templar’s eye resting on the water perceived a boat + rowing fast over the Rhine; the distance forbade him to see more than the + outline of two figures within it. “She was right,” thought he; “perhaps + that boat already bears her from the danger.” + </p> + <p> + Drawing himself up to the full height of his tall stature, the Templar + replied haughtily,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir Otho of Sternfels, if thou hast deigned to question thy vassals, + obtain from them only an answer. It is not to contradict such minions that + the knights of the Temple pledge their word!” + </p> + <p> + “Enough,” cried Otho, losing patience, and striking the Templar with his + clenched hand. “Draw, traitor, draw!” + </p> + <p> + Alone in his lofty tower Warbeck watched the night deepen over the + heavens, and communed mournfully with himself. “To what end,” thought he, + “have these strong affections, these capacities of love, this yearning + after sympathy, been given me? Unloved and unknown I walk to my grave, and + all the nobler mysteries of my heart are forever to be untold.” + </p> + <p> + Thus musing, he heard not the challenge of the warder on the wall, or the + unbarring of the gate below, or the tread of footsteps along the winding + stair; the door was thrown suddenly open, and Otho stood before him. + “Come,” he said, in a low voice trembling with passion; “come, I will show + thee that which shall glad thine heart. Twofold is Leoline avenged.” + </p> + <p> + Warbeck looked in amazement on a brother he had not met since they stood + in arms each against the other’s life, and he now saw that the arm that + Otho extended to him dripped with blood, trickling drop by drop upon the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Otho, “follow me; it is my last prayer. Come, for Leoline’s + sake, come.” + </p> + <p> + At that name Warbeck hesitated no longer; he girded on his sword, and + followed his brother down the stairs and through the castle gate. The + porter scarcely believed his eyes when he saw the two brothers, so long + divided, go forth at that hour alone, and seemingly in friendship. + </p> + <p> + Warbeck, arrived at that epoch in the feelings when nothing stuns, + followed with silent steps the rapid strides of his brother. The two + castles, as you are aware, are scarce a stone’s throw from each other. In + a few minutes Otho paused at an open space in one of the terraces of + Sternfels, on which the moon shone bright and steady. “Behold!” he said, + in a ghastly voice, “behold!” and Warbeck saw on the sward the corpse of + the Templar, bathed with the blood that even still poured fast and warm + from his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Hark!” said Otho. “He it was who first made me waver in my vows to + Leoline; he persuaded me to wed yon whited falsehood. Hark! he, who had + thus wronged my real love, dishonoured me with my faithless bride, and + thus—thus—thus”—as grinding his teeth, he spurned again + and again the dead body of the Templar—“thus Leoline and myself are + avenged!” + </p> + <p> + “And thy wife?” said Warbeck, pityingly. + </p> + <p> + “Fled,—fled with a hireling page. It is well! she was not worth the + sword that was once belted on—by Leoline.” + </p> + <p> + The tradition, dear Gertrude, proceeds to tell us that Otho, though often + menaced by the rude justice of the day for the death of the Templar, + defied and escaped the menace. On the very night of his revenge a long and + delirious illness seized him; the generous Warbeck forgave, forgot all, + save that he had been once consecrated by Leoline’s love. He tended him + through his sickness, and when he recovered, Otho was an altered man. He + forswore the comrades he had once courted, the revels he had once led. The + halls of Sternfels were desolate as those of Liebenstein. The only + companion Otho sought was Warbeck, and Warbeck bore with him. They had no + topic in common, for on one subject Warbeck at least felt too deeply ever + to trust himself to speak; yet did a strange and secret sympathy re-unite + them. They had at least a common sorrow; often they were seen wandering + together by the solitary banks of the river, or amidst the woods, without + apparently interchanging word or sign. Otho died first, and still in the + prime of youth; and Warbeck was now left companionless. In vain the + imperial court wooed him to its pleasures; in vain the camp proffered him + the oblivion of renown. Ah! could he tear himself from a spot where + morning and night he could see afar, amidst the valley, the roof that + sheltered Leoline, and on which every copse, every turf, reminded him of + former days? His solitary life, his midnight vigils, strange scrolls about + his chamber, obtained him by degrees the repute of cultivating the darker + arts; and shunning, he became shunned by all. But still it was sweet to + hear from time to time of the increasing sanctity of her in whom he had + treasured up his last thoughts of earth. She it was who healed the sick; + she it was who relieved the poor; and the superstition of that age brought + pilgrims from afar to the altars that she served. + </p> + <p> + Many years afterwards, a band of lawless robbers, who ever and anon broke + from their mountain fastnesses to pillage and to desolate the valleys of + the Rhine,—who spared neither sex nor age, neither tower nor hut, + nor even the houses of God Himself,—laid waste the territories round + Bornhofen, and demanded treasure from the convent. The abbess, of the bold + lineage of Rudesheim, refused the sacrilegious demand. The convent was + stormed; its vassals resisted; the robbers, inured to slaughter, won the + day; already the gates were forced, when a knight, at the head of a small + but hardy troop, rushed down from the mountain side and turned the tide of + the fray. Wherever his sword flashed fell a foe; wherever his war-cry + sounded was a space of dead men in the thick of the battle. The fight was + won, the convent saved; the abbess and the sisterhood came forth to bless + their deliverer. Laid under an aged oak, he was bleeding fast to death; + his head was bare and his locks were gray, but scarcely yet with years. + One only of the sisterhood recognized that majestic face; one bathed his + parched lips; one held his dying hand; and in Leoline’s presence passed + away the faithful spirit of the last lord of Liebenstein! + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Gertrude, through her tears; “surely you must have altered the + facts,—surely—surely—it must have been impossible for + Leoline, with a woman’s heart, to have loved Otho more than Warbeck?” + </p> + <p> + “My child,” said Vane, “so think women when they read a tale of love, and + see <i>the whole heart</i> bared before them; but not so act they in real + life, when they see only the surface of character, and pierce not its + depths—until it is too late!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.—A COMMON INCIDENT NOT + BEFORE + </h2> + <p> + DESCRIBED.—TREVYLYAN AND GERTRUDE. + </p> + <p> + THE day now grew cool as it waned to its decline, and the breeze came + sharp upon the delicate frame of the sufferer. They resolved to proceed no + farther; and as they carried with them attendants and baggage, which + rendered their route almost independent of the ordinary accommodation, + they steered for the opposite shore, and landed at a village beautifully + sequestered in a valley, and where they fortunately obtained a lodging not + often met with in the regions of the picturesque. + </p> + <p> + When Gertrude, at an early hour, retired to bed, Vane and Du——-e + fell into speculative conversation upon the nature of man. Vane’s + philosophy was of a quiet and passive scepticism; the physician dared more + boldly, and rushed from doubt to negation. The attention of Trevylyan, as + he sat apart and musing, was arrested in despite of himself. He listened + to an argument in which he took no share, but which suddenly inspired him + with an interest in that awful subject which, in the heat of youth and the + occupations of the world, had never been so prominently called forth + before. + </p> + <p> + “What,” thought he, with unutterable anguish, as he listened to the + earnest vehemence of the Frenchman and the tranquil assent of Vane, “if + this creed were indeed true,—if there be no other world,—Gertrude + is lost to me eternally, through the dread gloom of death there would + break forth no star!” + </p> + <p> + That is a peculiar incident that perhaps occurs to us all at times, but + which I have never found expressed in books, namely, to hear a doubt of + futurity at the very moment in which the present is most overcast; and to + find at once this world stripped of its delusion and the next of its + consolation. It is perhaps for others, rather than ourselves, that the + fond heart requires a Hereafter. The tranquil rest, the shadow, and the + silence, the mere pause of the wheel of life, have no terror for the wise, + who know the due value of the world. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “After the billows of a stormy sea, + Sweet is at last the haven of repose!” + </pre> + <p> + But not so when that stillness is to divide us eternally from others; when + those we have loved with all the passion, the devotion, the watchful + sanctity of the weak human heart, are to exist to us no more! when, after + long years of desertion and widowhood on earth, there is to be no hope of + reunion in that INVISIBLE beyond the stars; when the torch, not of life + only, but of love, is to be quenched in the Dark Fountain, and the grave, + that we would fain hope is the great restorer of broken ties, is but the + dumb seal of hopeless, utter, inexorable separation! And it is this + thought, this sentiment, which makes religion out of woe, and teaches + belief to the mourning heart that in the gladness of united affections + felt not the necessity of a heaven! To how many is the death of the + beloved the parent of faith! + </p> + <p> + Stung by his thoughts, Trevylyan rose abruptly, and stealing from the + lowly hostelry, walked forth amidst the serene and deepening night; from + the window of Gertrude’s room the light streamed calm on the purple air. + </p> + <p> + With uneven steps and many a pause, he paced to and fro beneath the + window, and gave the rein to his thoughts. How intensely he felt the ALL + that Gertrude was to him! how bitterly he foresaw the change in his lot + and character that her death would work out! For who that met him in later + years ever dreamed that emotions so soft, and yet so ardent, had visited + one so stern? Who could have believed that time was when the polished and + cold Trevylyan had kept the vigils he now held below the chamber of one so + little like himself as Gertrude, in that remote and solitary hamlet; shut + in by the haunted mountains of the Rhine, and beneath the moonlight of the + romantic North? + </p> + <p> + While thus engaged, the light in Gertrude’s room was suddenly + extinguished; it is impossible to express how much that trivial incident + affected him! It was like an emblem of what was to come; the light had + been the only evidence of life that broke upon that hour, and he was now + left alone with the shades of night. Was not this like the herald of + Gertrude’s own death; the extinction of the only living ray that broke + upon the darkness of the world? + </p> + <p> + His anguish, his presentiment of utter desolation, increased. He groaned + aloud; he dashed his clenched hand to his breast; large and cold drops of + agony stole down his brow. “Father,” he exclaimed with a struggling voice, + “let this cup pass from me! Smite my ambition to the root; curse me with + poverty, shame, and bodily disease; but leave me this one solace, this one + companion of my fate!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Gertrude’s window opened gently, and he heard accents steal + soothingly upon his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Is not that your voice, Albert?” said she, softly. “I heard it just as I + lay down to rest, and could not sleep while you were thus exposed to the + damp night air. You do not answer; surely it is your voice: when did I + mistake it for another’s?” Mastering with a violent effort his emotions, + Trevylyan answered, with a sort of convulsive gayety,— + </p> + <p> + “Why come to these shores, dear Gertrude, unless you are honoured with the + chivalry that belongs to them? What wind, what blight, can harm me while + within the circle of your presence; and what sleep can bring me dreams so + dear as the waking thought of you?” + </p> + <p> + “It is cold,” said Gertrude, shivering; “come in, dear Albert, I beseech + you, and I will thank you to-morrow.” Gertrude’s voice was choked by the + hectic cough, that went like an arrow to Trevylyan’s heart; and he felt + that in her anxiety for him she was now exposing her own frame to the + unwholesome night. + </p> + <p> + He spoke no more, but hurried within the house; and when the gray light of + morn broke upon his gloomy features, haggard from the want of sleep, it + might have seemed, in that dim eye and fast-sinking cheek, as if the + lovers were not to be divided—even by death itself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. IN WHICH THE READER WILL LEARN HOW THE FAIRIES WERE + </h2> + <p> + RECEIVED BY THE SOVEREIGNS OF THE MINES.—THE COMPLAINT OF THE LAST + OF THE FAUNS.—THE RED HUNTSMAN.—THE STORM.—DEATH. + </p> + <p> + IN the deep valley of Ehrenthal, the metal kings—the Prince of the + Silver Palaces, the Gnome Monarch of the dull Lead Mine, the President of + the Copper United States—held a court to receive the fairy wanderers + from the island of Nonnewerth. + </p> + <p> + The prince was there, in a gallant hunting-suit of oak leaves, in honour + to England; and wore a profusion of fairy orders, which had been + instituted from time to time, in honour of the human poets that had + celebrated the spiritual and ethereal tribes. Chief of these, sweet + Dreamer of the “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” was the badge crystallized from + the dews that rose above the whispering reeds of Avon on the night of thy + birth,—the great epoch of the intellectual world! Nor wert thou, O + beloved Musaeus! nor thou, dim-dreaming Tieck! nor were ye, the wild + imaginer of the bright-haired Undine, and the wayward spirit that invoked + for the gloomy Manfred the Witch of the breathless Alps and the spirits of + earth and air!—nor were ye without the honours of fairy homage! Your + memory may fade from the heart of man, and the spells of new enchanters + may succeed to the charm you once wove over the face of the common world; + but still in the green knolls of the haunted valley and the deep shade of + forests, and the starred palaces of air, ye are honoured by the beings of + your dreams, as demigods and kings! Your graves are tended by invisible + hands, and the places of your birth are hallowed by no perishable worship! + </p> + <p> + Even as I write,* far away amidst the hills of Scotland, and by the forest + thou hast clothed with immortal verdure, thou, the maker of “the Harp by + lone Glenfillan’s spring,” art passing from the earth which thou hast + “painted with delight.” And such are the chances of mortal fame, our + children’s children may raise new idols on the site of thy holy altar, and + cavil where their sires adored; but for thee the mermaid of the ocean + shall wail in her coral caves, and the sprite that lives in the waterfalls + shall mourn! Strange shapes shall hew thy monument in the recesses of the + lonely rocks! ever by moonlight shall the fairies pause from their roundel + when some wild note of their minstrelsy reminds them of thine own,—ceasing + from their revelries, to weep for the silence of that mighty lyre, which + breathed alike a revelation of the mysteries of spirits and of men! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It was just at the time the author was finishing this work + that the great master of his art was drawing to the close + of his career. +</pre> + <p> + The King of the Silver Mines sat in a cavern in the valley, through which + the moonlight pierced its way and slept in shadow on the soil shining with + metals wrought into unnumbered shapes; and below him, on a humbler throne, + with a gray beard and downcast eye, sat the aged King of the Dwarfs that + preside over the dull realms of lead, and inspire the verse of ——-, + and the prose of ——-! And there too a fantastic household elf + was the President of the Copper Republic,—a spirit that loves + economy and the Uses, and smiles sparely on the Beautiful. But, in the + centre of the cave, upon beds of the softest mosses, the untrodden growth + of ages, reclined the fairy visitors, Nymphalin seated by her betrothed. + And round the walls of the cave were dwarf attendants on the sovereigns of + the metals, of a thousand odd shapes and fantastic garments. On the abrupt + ledges of the rocks the bats, charmed to stillness but not sleep, + clustered thickly, watching the scene with fixed and amazed eyes; and one + old gray owl, the favourite of the witch of the valley, sat blinking in a + corner, listening with all her might that she might bring home the scandal + to her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “And tell me, Prince of the Rhine-Island Fays,” said the King of the + Silver Mines, “for thou art a traveller, and a fairy that hath seen much, + how go men’s affairs in the upper world? As to ourself, we live here in a + stupid splendour, and only hear the news of the day when our brother of + lead pays a visit to the English printing-press, or the President of + Copper goes to look at his improvements in steam-engines.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” replied Fayzenheim, preparing to speak like AEneas in the + Carthaginian court,—“indeed, your Majesty, I know not much that will + interest you in the present aspect of mortal affairs, except that you are + quite as much honoured at this day as when the Roman conqueror bent his + knee to you among the mountains of Taunus; and a vast number of little + round subjects of yours are constantly carried about by the rich, and + pined after with hopeless adoration by the poor. But, begging your + Majesty’s pardon, may I ask what has become of your cousin, the King of + the Golden Mines? I know very well that he has no dominion in these + valleys, and do not therefore wonder at his absence from your court this + night; but I see so little of his subjects on earth that I should fear his + empire was well nigh at an end, if I did not recognize everywhere the most + servile homage paid to a power now become almost invisible.” + </p> + <p> + The King of the Silver Mines fetched a deep sigh. “Alas, prince,” said he, + “too well do you divine the expiration of my cousin’s empire. So many of + his subjects have from time to time gone forth to the world, pressed into + military service and never returning, that his kingdom is nearly + depopulated. And he lives far off in the distant parts of the earth, in a + state of melancholy seclusion; the age of gold has passed, the age of + paper has commenced.” + </p> + <p> + “Paper,” said Nymphalin, who was still somewhat of a <i>precieuse</i>,—“paper + is a wonderful thing. What pretty books the human people write upon it!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s what I design to convey,” said the silver king. “It is the age + less of paper money than paper government: the Press is the true bank.” + The lord treasurer of the English fairies pricked up his ears at the word + “bank;” for he was the Attwood of the fairies: he had a favourite plan of + making money out of bulrushes, and had written four large bees’-wings full + upon the true nature of capital. + </p> + <p> + While they were thus conversing, a sudden sound as of some rustic and rude + music broke along the air, and closing its wild burden, they heard the + following song:— + </p> + <p> + THE COMPLAINT OF THE LAST FAUN. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +I. The moon on the Latmos mountain Her pining vigil keeps; +And ever the silver fountain In the Dorian valley weeps. +But gone are Endymion’s dreams; And the crystal lymph + Bewails the nymph +Whose beauty sleeked the streams! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +II. Round Arcady’s oak its green The Bromian ivy weaves; +But no more is the satyr seen Laughing out from the glossy leaves. +Hushed is the Lycian lute, Still grows the seed + Of the Moenale reed, +But the pipe of Pan is mute! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +III. The leaves in the noon-day quiver; The vines on the mountains wave; +And Tiber rolls his river As fresh by the Sylvan’s cave. +But my brothers are dead and gone; And far away + From their graves I stray, +And dream of the past alone! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +IV. And the sun of the north is chill; And keen is the northern gale; +Alas for the Song of the Argive hill; And the dance in the Cretan vale! +The youth of the earth is o’er, And its breast is rife + With the teeming life +Of the golden Tribes no more! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +V. My race are more blest than I, Asleep in their distant bed; +‘T were better, be sure, to die Than to mourn for the buried Dead: +To rove by the stranger streams, At dusk and dawn + A lonely faun, +The last of the Grecian’s dreams. +</pre> + <p> + As the song ended a shadow crossed the moonlight, that lay white and + lustrous before the aperture of the cavern; and Nymphalin, looking up, + beheld a graceful yet grotesque figure standing on the sward without, and + gazing on the group in the cave. It was a shaggy form, with a goat’s legs + and ears; but the rest of its body, and the height of the stature, like a + man’s. An arch, pleasant, yet malicious smile played about its lips; and + in its hand it held the pastoral pipe of which poets have sung,—they + would find it difficult to sing to it! + </p> + <p> + “And who art thou?” said Fayzenheim, with the air of a hero. + </p> + <p> + “I am the last lingering wanderer of the race which the Romans worshipped; + hither I followed their victorious steps, and in these green hollows have + I remained. Sometimes in the still noon, when the leaves of spring bud + upon the whispering woods, I peer forth from my rocky lair, and startle + the peasant with my strange voice and stranger shape. Then goes he home, + and puzzles his thick brain with mopes and fancies, till at length he + imagines me, the creature of the South! one of his northern demons, and + his poets adapt the apparition to their barbarous lines.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho!” quoth the silver king, “surely thou art the origin of the fabled + Satan of the cowled men living whilom in yonder ruins, with its horns and + goatish limbs; and the harmless faun has been made the figuration of the + most implacable of fiends. But why, O wanderer of the South, lingerest + thou in these foreign dells? Why returnest thou not to the bi-forked + hill-top of old Parnassus, or the wastes around the yellow course of the + Tiber?” + </p> + <p> + “My brethren are no more,” said the poor faun; “and the very faith that + left us sacred and unharmed is departed. But here all the spirits not of + mortality are still honoured; and I wander, mourning for Silenus, though + amidst the vines that should console me for his loss.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou hast known great beings in thy day,” said the leaden king, who loved + the philosophy of a truism (and the history of whose inspirations I shall + one day write). + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” said the faun; “my birth was amidst the freshness of the world, + when the flush of the universal life coloured all things with divinity; + when not a tree but had its Dryad, not a fountain that was without its + Nymph. I sat by the gray throne of Saturn, in his old age, ere yet he was + discrowned (for he was no visionary ideal, but the arch monarch of the + pastoral age), and heard from his lips the history of the world’s birth. + But those times are gone forever,—they have left harsh successors.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the age of paper,” muttered the lord treasurer, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “What ho, for a dance!” cried Fayzenheim, too royal for moralities, and he + whirled the beautiful Nymphalin into a waltz. Then forth issued the + fairies, and out went the dwarfs. And the faun leaning against an aged + elm, ere yet the midnight waned, the elves danced their charmed round to + the antique minstrelsy of his pipe,—the minstrelsy of the Grecian + world! + </p> + <p> + “Hast thou seen yet, my Nymphalin,” said Fayzenheim, in the pauses of the + dance, “the recess of the Hartz, and the red form of its mighty hunter?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a fearful sight,” answered Nymphalin; “but with thee I should not + fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Away then!” cried Fayzenheim; “let us away at the first cock-crow, into + those shaggy dells; for there is no need of night to conceal us, and the + unwitnessed blush of morn or the dreary silence of noon is, no less than + the moon’s reign, the season for the sports of the superhuman tribes.” + </p> + <p> + Nymphalin, charmed with the proposal, readily assented; and at the last + hour of night, bestriding the starbeams of the many-titled Friga, away + sped the fairy cavalcade to the gloom of the mystic Hartz. + </p> + <p> + Fain would I relate the manner of their arrival in the thick recesses of + the forest,—how they found the Red Hunter seated on a fallen pine + beside a wide chasm in the earth, with the arching bows of the wizard oak + wreathing above his head as a canopy, and his bow and spear lying idle at + his feet. Fain would I tell of the reception which he deigned to the + fairies, and how he told them of his ancient victories over man; how he + chafed at the gathering invasions of his realm; and how joyously he + gloated of some great convulsion* in the northern States, which, rapt into + moody reveries in those solitary woods, the fierce demon broodingly + foresaw. All these fain would I narrate, but they are not of the Rhine, + and my story will not brook the delay. While thus conversing with the + fiend, noon had crept on, and the sky had become overcast and lowering; + the giant trees waved gustily to and fro, and the low gatherings of the + thunder announced the approaching storm. Then the hunter rose and + stretched his mighty limbs, and seizing his spear, he strode rapidly into + the forest to meet the things of his own tribe that the tempest wakes from + their rugged lair. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Which has come to pass.—1847. +</pre> + <p> + A sudden recollection broke upon Nymphalin. “Alas, alas!” she cried, + wringing her hands; “what have I done! In journeying hither with thee, I + have forgotten my office. I have neglected my watch over the elements, and + my human charge is at this hour, perhaps, exposed to all the fury of the + storm.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheer thee, my Nymphalin,” said the prince, “we will lay the tempest;” + and he waved his sword and muttered the charms which curb the winds and + roll back the marching thunder: but for once the tempest ceased not at his + spells. And now, as the fairies sped along the troubled air, a pale and + beautiful form met them by the way, and the fairies paused and trembled; + for the power of that Shape could vanquish even them. It was the form of a + Female, with golden hair, crowned with a chaplet of withered leaves; her + bosoms, of an exceeding beauty, lay bare to the wind, and an infant was + clasped between them, hushed into a sleep so still, that neither the roar + of the thunder, nor the livid lightning flashing from cloud to cloud, + could even ruffle, much less arouse, the slumberer. And the face of the + female was unutterably calm and sweet (though with a something of severe); + there was no line nor wrinkle in the hueless brow; care never wrote its + defacing characters upon that everlasting beauty. It knew no sorrow or + change; ghostlike and shadowy floated on that Shape through the abyss of + Time, governing the world with an unquestioned and noiseless sway. And the + children of the green solitudes of the earth, the lovely fairies of my + tale, shuddered as they gazed and recognized—the form of DEATH,—death + vindicated. + </p> + <p> + “And why,” said the beautiful Shape, with a voice soft as the last sighs + of a dying babe,—“why trouble ye the air with spells? Mine is the + hour and the empire, and the storm is the creature of my power. Far yonder + to the west it sweeps over the sea, and the ship ceases to vex the waves; + it smites the forest, and the destined tree, torn from its roots, feels + the winter strip the gladness from its boughs no more! The roar of the + elements is the herald of eternal stillness to their victims; and they who + hear the progress of my power idly shudder at the coming of peace. And + thou, O tender daughter of the fairy kings, why grievest thou at a + mortal’s doom? Knowest thou not that sorrow cometh with years, and that to + live is to mourn? Blessed is the flower that, nipped in its early spring, + feels not the blast that one by one scatters its blossoms around it, and + leaves but the barren stem. Blessed are the young whom I clasp to my + breast, and lull into the sleep which the storm cannot break, nor the + morrow arouse to sorrow or to toil. The heart that is stilled in the bloom + of its first emotions, that turns with its last throb to the eye of love, + as yet unlearned in the possibility of change,—has exhausted already + the wine of life, and is saved only from the lees. As the mother soothes + to sleep the wail of her troubled child, I open my arms to the vexed + spirit, and my bosom cradles the unquiet to repose!” + </p> + <p> + The fairies answered not, for a chill and a fear lay over them, and the + Shape glided on; ever as it passed away through the veiling clouds they + heard its low voice singing amidst the roar of the storm, as the dirge of + the water-sprite over the vessel it hath lured into the whirlpool or the + shoals. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. THURMBERG.—A STORM UPON THE RHINE.—THE RUINS OF + </h2> + <p> + RHEINFELS.—PERIL UNFELT BY LOVE.—THE ECHO OF THE LURLEI-BERG.—ST. + GOAR.—KAUB, GUTENFELS, AND PFALZGRAFENSTEIN.—A CERTAIN + VASTNESS OF MIND IN THE FIRST HERMITS.—THE SCENERY OF THE RHINE TO + BACHARACH. + </p> + <p> + OUR party continued their voyage the next day, which was less bright than + any they had yet experienced. The clouds swept on dull and heavy, + suffering the sun only to break forth at scattered intervals. They wound + round the curving bay which the Rhine forms in that part of its course, + and gazed upon the ruins of Thurmberg, with the rich gardens that skirt + the banks below. The last time Trevylyan had seen those ruins soaring + against the sky, the green foliage at the foot of the rocks, and the quiet + village sequestered beneath, glassing its roofs and solitary tower upon + the wave, it had been with a gay summer troop of light friends, who had + paused on the opposite shore during the heats of noon, and, over wine and + fruits, had mimicked the groups of Boccaccio, and intermingled the lute, + the jest, the momentary love, and the laughing tale. + </p> + <p> + What a difference now in his thoughts, in the object of the voyage, in his + present companions! The feet of years fall noiseless; we heed, we note + them not, till tracking the same course we passed long since, we are + startled to find how deep the impression they leave behind. To revisit the + scenes of our youth is to commune with the ghost of ourselves. + </p> + <p> + At this time the clouds gathered rapidly along the heavens, and they were + startled by the first peal of the thunder. Sudden and swift came on the + storm, and Trevylyan trembled as he covered Gertrude’s form with the rude + boat-cloaks they had brought with them; the small vessel began to rock + wildly to and fro upon the waters. High above them rose the vast + dismantled ruins of Rheinfels, the lightning darting through its shattered + casements and broken arches, and brightening the gloomy trees that here + and there clothed the rocks, and tossed to the angry wind. Swift wheeled + the water-birds over the river, dipping their plumage in the white foam, + and uttering their discordant screams. A storm upon the Rhine has a + grandeur it is in vain to paint. Its rocks, its foliage, the feudal ruins + that everywhere rise from the lofty heights, speaking in characters of + stern decay of many a former battle against time and tempest; the broad + and rapid course of the legendary river,—all harmonize with the + elementary strife; and you feel that to see the Rhine only in the sunshine + is to be unconscious of its most majestic aspects. What baronial war had + those ruins witnessed! From the rapine of the lordly tyrant of those + battlements rose the first Confederation of the Rhine,—the great + strife between the new time and the old, the town and the castle, the + citizen and the chief. Gray and stern those ruins breasted the storm,—a + type of the antique opinion which once manned them with armed serfs; and, + yet in ruins and decay, appeals from the victorious freedom it may no + longer resist! + </p> + <p> + Clasped in Trevylyan’s guardian arms, and her head pillowed on his breast, + Gertrude felt nothing of the storm save its grandeur; and Trevylyan’s + voice whispered cheer and courage to her ear. She answered by a smile and + a sigh, but not of pain. In the convulsions of nature we forget our own + separate existence, our schemes, our projects, our fears; our dreams + vanish back into their cells. One passion only the storm quells not, and + the presence of Love mingles with the voice of the fiercest storms, as + with the whispers of the southern wind. So she felt, as they were thus + drawn close together, and as she strove to smile away the anxious terror + from Trevylyan’s gaze, a security, a delight; for peril is sweet even to + the fears of woman, when it impresses upon her yet more vividly that she + is beloved. + </p> + <p> + “A moment more and we reach the land,” murmured Trevylyan. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it not,” answered Gertrude, softly. But ere they got into St. Goar + the rain descended in torrents, and even the thick coverings round + Gertrude’s form were not sufficient protection against it. Wet and + dripping she reached the inn; but not then, nor for some days, was she + sensible of the shock her decaying health had received. + </p> + <p> + The storm lasted but a few hours, and the sun afterwards broke forth so + brightly, and the stream looked so inviting, that they yielded to + Gertrude’s earnest wish, and, taking a larger vessel, continued their + course; they passed along the narrow and dangerous defile of the Gewirre, + and the fearful whirlpool of the “Bank;” and on the shore to the left the + enormous rock of Lurlei rose, huge and shapeless, on their gaze. In this + place is a singular echo, and one of the boatmen wound a horn, which + produced an almost supernatural music,—so wild, loud, and oft + reverberated was its sound. + </p> + <p> + The river now curved along in a narrow and deep channel amongst rugged + steeps, on which the westering sun cast long and uncouth shadows; and here + the hermit, from whose sacred name the town of St. Goar derived its own, + fixed his abode and preached the religion of the Cross. “There was a + certain vastness of mind,” said Vane, “in the adoption of utter solitude, + in which the first enthusiasts of our religion indulged. The remote + desert, the solitary rock, the rude dwelling hollowed from the cave, the + eternal commune with their own hearts, with nature, and their dreams of + God,—all make a picture of severe and preterhuman grandeur. Say what + we will of the necessity and charm of social life, there is a greatness + about man when he dispenses with mankind.” + </p> + <p> + “As to that,” said Du——-e, shrugging his shoulders, “there was + probably very good wine in the neighbourhood, and the females’ eyes about + Oberwesel are singularly blue.” + </p> + <p> + They now approached Oberwesel, another of the once imperial towns, and + behind it beheld the remains of the castle of the illustrious family of + Schomberg, the ancestors of the old hero of the Boyne. A little farther + on, from the opposite shore, the castle of Gutenfels rose above the busy + town of Kaub. + </p> + <p> + “Another of those scenes,” said Trevylyan, “celebrated equally by love and + glory, for the castle’s name is derived from that of the beautiful ladye + of an emperor’s passion; and below, upon a ridge in the steep, the great + Gustavus issued forth his command to begin battle with the Spaniards.” + </p> + <p> + “It looks peaceful enough now,” said Vane, pointing to the craft that lay + along the stream, and the green trees drooping over a curve in the bank. + Beyond, in the middle of the stream itself, stands the lonely castle of + Pfalzgrafenstein, sadly memorable as a prison to the more distinguished of + criminals. How many pining eyes may have turned from those casements to + the vine-clad hills of the free shore! how many indignant hearts have + nursed the deep curses of hate in the dungeons below, and longed for the + wave that dashed against the gray walls to force its way within and set + them free! + </p> + <p> + Here the Rhine seems utterly bounded, shrunk into one of those delusive + lakes into which it so frequently seems to change its course; and as you + proceed, it is as if the waters were silently overflowing their channel + and forcing their way into the clefts of the mountain shore. Passing the + Werth Island on one side and the castle of Stahleck on the other, our + voyagers arrived at Bacharach, which, associating the feudal recollections + with the classic, takes its name from the god of the vine; and as Du——-e + declared with peculiar emphasis, quaffing a large goblet of the peculiar + liquor, “richly deserves the honour!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE VOYAGE TO BINGEN.—THE SIMPLE INCIDENTS IN THIS + TALE + </h2> + <p> + EXCUSED.—THE SITUATION AND CHARACTER OF GERTRUDE.—THE + CONVERSATION OF THE LOVERS IN THE TEMPEST.—A FACT CONTRADICTED.—THOUGHTS + OCCASIONED BY A MADHOUSE AMONGST THE MOST BEAUTIFUL LANDSCAPES OF THE + RHINE. + </p> + <p> + THE next day they again resumed their voyage, and Gertrude’s spirits were + more cheerful than usual. The air seemed to her lighter, and she breathed + with a less painful effort; once more hope entered the breast of + Trevylyan; and, as the vessel bounded on, their conversation was steeped + in no sombre hues. When Gertrude’s health permitted, no temper was so gay, + yet so gently gay, as hers; and now the <i>naive</i> sportiveness of her + remarks called a smile to the placid lip of Vane, and smoothed the anxious + front of Trevylyan himself; as for Du——-e, who had much of the + boon companion beneath his professional gravity, he broke out every now + and then into snatches of French songs and drinking glees, which he + declared were the result of the air of Bacharach. Thus conversing, the + ruins of Furstenberg, and the echoing vale of Rheindeibach, glided past + their sail; then the old town of Lorch, on the opposite bank (where the + red wine is said first to have been made), with the green island before it + in the water. Winding round, the stream showed castle upon castle alike in + ruins, and built alike upon scarce accessible steeps. Then came the chapel + of St. Clements and the opposing village of Asmannshausen; the lofty + Rossell, built at the extremest verge of the cliff; and now the tower of + Hatto, celebrated by Southey’s ballad, and the ancient town of Bingen. + Here they paused a while from their voyage, with the intention of visiting + more minutely the Rheingau, or valley of the Rhine. + </p> + <p> + It must occur to every one of my readers, that, in undertaking, as now, in + these passages in the history of Trevylyan, scarcely so much a tale as an + episode in real life, it is very difficult to offer any interest save of + the most simple and unexciting kind. It is true that to Trevylyan every + day, every hour, had its incident; but what are those incidents to others? + A cloud in the sky; a smile from the lip of Gertrude,—these were to + him far more full of events than had been the most varied scenes of his + former adventurous career; but the history of the heart is not easily + translated into language; and the world will not readily pause from its + business to watch the alternations in the cheek of a dying girl. + </p> + <p> + In the immense sum of human existence what is a single unit? Every sod on + which we tread is the grave of some former being; yet is there something + that softens without enervating the heart in tracing in the life of + another those emotions that all of us have known ourselves. For who is + there that has not, in his progress through life, felt all its ordinary + business arrested, and the varieties of fate commuted into one chronicle + of the affections? Who has not watched over the passing away of some + being, more to him at that epoch than all the world? And this unit, so + trivial to the calculation of others, of what inestimable value was it not + to him? Retracing in another such recollections, shadowed and mellowed + down by time, we feel the wonderful sanctity of human life, we feel what + emotions a single being can awake; what a world of hope may be buried in a + single grave! And thus we keep alive within ourselves the soft springs of + that morality which unites us with our kind, and sheds over the harsh + scenes and turbulent contests of earth the colouring of a common love. + </p> + <p> + There is often, too, in the time of year in which such thoughts are + presented to us, a certain harmony with the feelings they awaken. As I + write I hear the last sighs of the departing summer, and the sere and + yellow leaf is visible in the green of nature. But when this book goes + forth into the world, the year will have passed through a deeper cycle of + decay; and the first melancholy signs of winter have breathed into the + Universal Mind that sadness which associates itself readily with the + memory of friends, of feelings, that are no more. The seasons, like + ourselves, track their course by something of beauty, or of glory, that is + left behind. As the traveller in the land of Palestine sees tomb after + tomb rise before him, the landmarks of his way, and the only signs of the + holiness of the soil, thus Memory wanders over the most sacred spots in + its various world, and traces them but by the graves of the Past. + </p> + <p> + It was now that Gertrude began to feel the shock her frame had received in + the storm upon the Rhine. Cold shiverings frequently seized her; her cough + became more hollow, and her form trembled at the slightest breeze. + </p> + <p> + Vane grew seriously alarmed; he repented that he had yielded to Gertrude’s + wish of substituting the Rhine for the Tiber or the Arno; and would even + now have hurried across the Alps to a warmer clime, if Du——-e + had not declared that she could not survive the journey, and that her sole + chance of regaining her strength was rest. Gertrude herself, however, in + the continued delusion of her disease, clung to the belief of recovery, + and still supported the hopes of her father, and soothed, with secret talk + of the future, the anguish of her betrothed. The reader may remember that + in the most touching passage in the ancient tragedians, the most pathetic + part of the most pathetic of human poets—the pleading speech of + Iphigenia, when imploring for her prolonged life, she impresses you with + so soft a picture of its innocence and its beauty, and in this Gertrude + resembled the Greek’s creation—that she felt, on the verge of death, + all the flush, the glow, the loveliness of life. Her youth was filled with + hope and many-coloured dreams; she loved, and the hues of morning slept + upon the yet disenchanted earth. The heavens to her were not as the common + sky; the wave had its peculiar music to her ear, and the rustling leaves a + pleasantness that none whose heart is not bathed in the love and sense of + beauty could discern. Therefore it was, in future years, a thought of deep + gratitude to Trevylyan that she was so little sensible of her danger; that + the landscape caught not the gloom of the grave; and that, in the Greek + phrase, “death found her sleeping amongst flowers.” + </p> + <p> + At the end of a few days, another of those sudden turns, common to her + malady, occurred in Gertrude’s health; her youth and her happiness rallied + against the encroaching tyrant, and for the ensuing fortnight she seemed + once more within the bounds of hope. During this time they made several + excursions into the Rheingau, and finished their tour at the ancient + Heidelberg. + </p> + <p> + One morning, in these excursions, after threading the wood of Niederwald, + they gained that small and fairy temple, which hanging lightly over the + mountain’s brow, commands one of the noblest landscapes of earth. There, + seated side by side, the lovers looked over the beautiful world below; far + to the left lay the happy islets, in the embrace of the Rhine, as it wound + along the low and curving meadows that stretch away towards + Nieder-Ingelheim and Mayence. Glistening in the distance, the opposite Nah + swept by the Mause tower, and the ruins of Klopp, crowning the ancient Bingen, + into the mother tide. There, on either side the town, were the mountains + of St. Roch and Rupert, with some old monastic ruin saddening in the sun. + But nearer, below the temple, contrasting all the other features of + landscape, yawned a dark and rugged gulf, girt by cragged elms and + mouldering towers, the very prototype of the abyss of time,—black + and fathomless amidst ruin and desolation. + </p> + <p> + “I think sometimes,” said Gertrude, “as in scenes like these we sit + together, and rapt from the actual world, see only the enchantment that + distance lends to our view,—I think sometimes what pleasure it will + be hereafter to recall these hours. If ever you should love me less, I + need only whisper to you, ‘The Rhine,’ and will not all the feelings you + have now for me return?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there will never be occasion to recall my love for you,—it can + never decay.” + </p> + <p> + “What a strange thing is life!” said Gertrude; “how unconnected, how + desultory seem all its links! Has this sweet pause from trouble, from the + ordinary cares of life—has it anything in common with your past + career, with your future? You will go into the great world; in a few years + hence these moments of leisure and musing will be denied to you. The + action that you love and court is a jealous sphere,—it allows no + wandering, no repose. These moments will then seem to you but as yonder + islands that stud the Rhine,—the stream lingers by them for a + moment, and then hurries on in its rapid course; they vary, but they do + not interrupt the tide.” + </p> + <p> + “You are fanciful, my Gertrude; but your simile might be juster. Rather + let these banks be as our lives, and this river the one thought that flows + eternally by both, blessing each with undying freshness.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude smiled; and, as Trevylyan’s arm encircled her, she sank her + beautiful face upon his bosom, he covered it with his kisses, and she + thought at the moment, that, even had she passed death, that embrace could + have recalled her to life. + </p> + <p> + They pursued their course to Mayence, partly by land, partly along the + river. One day, as returning from the vine-clad mountains of Johannisberg, + which commands the whole of the Rheingau, the most beautiful valley in the + world, they proceeded by water to the town of Ellfeld, Gertrude said,— + </p> + <p> + “There is a thought in your favourite poet which you have often repeated, + and which I cannot think true,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘In nature there is nothing melancholy.’ +</pre> + <p> + “To me, it seems as if a certain melancholy were inseparable from beauty; + in the sunniest noon there is a sense of solitude and stillness which + pervades the landscape, and even in the flush of life inspires us with a + musing and tender sadness. Why is this?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell,” said Trevylyan, mournfully; “but I allow that it is + true.” + </p> + <p> + “It is as if,” continued the romantic Gertrude, “the spirit of the world + spoke to us in the silence, and filled us with a sense of our mortality,—a + whisper from the religion that belongs to nature, and is ever seeking to + unite the earth with the reminiscences of Heaven. Ah, what without a + heaven would be even love!—a perpetual terror of the separation that + must one day come! If,” she resumed solemnly, after a momentary pause, and + a shadow settled on her young face, “if it be true, Albert, that I must + leave you soon—” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot! it cannot!” cried Trevylyan, wildly; “be still, be silent, I + beseech you.” + </p> + <p> + “Look yonder,” said Du——-e, breaking seasonably in upon the + conversation of the lovers; “on that hill to the left, what once was an + abbey is now an asylum for the insane. Does it not seem a quiet and serene + abode for the unstrung and erring minds that tenant it? What a mystery is + there in our conformation!—those strange and bewildered fancies + which replace our solid reason, what a moral of our human weakness do they + breathe!” + </p> + <p> + It does indeed induce a dark and singular train of thought, when, in the + midst of these lovely scenes, we chance upon this lone retreat for those + on whose eyes Nature, perhaps, smiles in vain. <i>Or is it in vain?</i> + They look down upon the broad Rhine, with its tranquil isles: do their + wild delusions endow the river with another name, and people the valleys + with no living shapes? Does the broken mirror within reflect back the + countenance of real things, or shadows and shapes, crossed, mingled, and + bewildered,—the phantasma of a sick man’s dreams? Yet, perchance, + one memory unscathed by the general ruin of the brain can make even the + beautiful Rhine more beautiful than it is to the common eye; can calm it + with the hues of departed love, and bids its possessor walk over its + vine-clad mountains with the beings that have ceased to <i>be</i>! There, + perhaps, the self-made monarch sits upon his throne and claims the vessels + as his fleet, the waves and the valleys as his own; there, the enthusiast, + blasted by the light of some imaginary creed, beholds the shapes of + angels, and watches in the clouds round the setting sun the pavilions of + God; there the victim of forsaken or perished love, mightier than the + sorcerers of old, evokes the dead, or recalls the faithless by the philter + of undying fancies. Ah, blessed art thou, the winged power of Imagination + that is within us! conquering even grief, brightening even despair. Thou + takest us from the world when reason can no longer bind us to it, and + givest to the maniac the inspiration and the solace of the bard! Thou, the + parent of the purer love, lingerest like love, when even ourself forsakes + us, and lightest up the shattered chambers of the heart with the glory + that makes a sanctity of decay. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. ELLFELD.—MAYENCE.—HEIDELBERG.—A + CONVERSATION BETWEEN + </h2> + <p> + VANE AND THE GERMAN STUDENT.—THE RUINS OF THE CASTLE OF HEIDELBERG + AND ITS SOLITARY HABITANT. + </p> + <p> + IT was now the full noon; light clouds were bearing up towards the + opposite banks of the Rhine, but over the Gothic towers of Ellfeld the sky + spread blue and clear; the river danced beside the old gray walls with a + sunny wave, and close at hand a vessel crowded with passengers, and loud + with eager voices, gave a merry life to the scene. On the opposite bank + the hills sloped away into the far horizon, and one slight skiff in the + midst of the waters broke the solitary brightness of the noonday calm. + </p> + <p> + The town of Ellfeld was the gift of Otho the First to the Church; not far + from thence is the crystal spring that gives its name to the delicious + grape of Markbrunner. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” quoth Du——-e, “doubtless the good bishops of Mayence + made the best of the vicinity!” + </p> + <p> + They stayed some little time at this town, and visited the ruins of + Scharfenstein; thence proceeding up the river, they passed Nieder Walluf, + called the Gate of the Rheingau, and the luxuriant garden of Schierstein; + thence, sailing by the castle-seat of the Prince Nassau Usingen, and + passing two long and narrow isles, they arrived at Mayence, as the sun + shot his last rays upon the waters, gilding the proud cathedral-spire, and + breaking the mists that began to gather behind, over the rocks of the + Rheingau. + </p> + <p> + Ever memorable Mayence,—memorable alike for freedom and for song, + within those walls how often woke the gallant music of the Troubadour; and + how often beside that river did the heart of the maiden tremble to the + lay! Within those walls the stout Walpoden first broached the great scheme + of the Hanseatic league; and, more than all, O memorable Mayence, thou + canst claim the first invention of the mightiest engine of human + intellect,—the great leveller of power, the Demiurgus of the moral + world,—the Press! Here too lived the maligned hero of the greatest + drama of modern genius, the traditionary Faust, illustrating in himself + the fate of his successors in dispensing knowledge,—held a monster + for his wisdom, and consigned to the penalties of hell as a recompense for + the benefits he had conferred on earth! + </p> + <p> + At Mayence, Gertrude heard so much and so constantly of Heidelberg, that + she grew impatient to visit that enchanting town; and as Du——-e + considered the air of Heidelberg more pure and invigorating than that of + Mayence, they resolved to fix within it their temporary residence. Alas! + it was the place destined to close their brief and melancholy pilgrimage, + and to become to the heart of Trevylyan the holiest spot which the earth + contained,—the KAABA of the world. But Gertrude, unconscious of her + fate, conversed gayly as their carriage rolled rapidly on, and, constantly + alive to every new sensation, she touched with her characteristic vivacity + on all that they had seen in their previous route. There is a great charm + in the observations of one new to the world; if we ourselves have become + somewhat tired of “its hack sights and sounds,” we hear in their freshness + a voice from our own youth. + </p> + <p> + In the haunted valley of the Neckar, the most crystal of rivers, stands + the town of Heidelberg. The shades of evening gathered round it as their + heavy carriage rattled along the antique streets, and not till the next + day was Gertrude aware of all the unrivalled beauties that environ the + place. + </p> + <p> + Vane, who was an early riser, went forth alone in the morning to + reconnoitre the town; and as he was gazing on the tower of St. Peter, he + heard himself suddenly accosted. He turned round and saw the German + student whom they had met among the mountains of Taunus at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur has chosen well in coming hither,” said the student; “and I + trust our town will not disappoint his expectations.” Vane answered with + courtesy, and the German offering to accompany him in his walk, their + conversation fell naturally on the life of a university, and the current + education of the German people. + </p> + <p> + “It is surprising,” said the student, “that men are eternally inventing + new systems of education, and yet persevering in the old. How many years + ago is it since Fichte predicted in the system of Pestalozzi the + regeneration of the German people? What has it done? We admire, we praise, + and we blunder on in the very course Pestalozzi proves to be erroneous. + Certainly,” continued the student, “there must be some radical defect in a + system of culture in which genius is an exception, and dulness the result. + Yet here, in our German universities, everything proves that education + without equitable institutions avails little in the general formation of + character. Here the young men of the colleges mix on the most equal terms; + they are daring, romantic, enamoured of freedom even to its madness. They + leave the University: no political career continues the train of mind they + had acquired; they plunge into obscurity; live scattered and separate, and + the student inebriated with Schiller sinks into the passive priest or the + lethargic baron. His college career, so far from indicating his future + life, exactly reverses it: he is brought up in one course in order to + proceed in another. And this I hold to be the universal error of education + in all countries; they conceive it a certain something to be finished at a + certain age. They do not make it a part of the continuous history of life, + but a wandering from it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been in England?” asked Vane. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I have travelled over nearly the whole of it on foot. I was poor at + that time, and imagining there was a sort of masonry between all men of + letters, I inquired at each town for the <i>savants</i>, and asked money + of them as a matter of course.” + </p> + <p> + Vane almost laughed outright at the simplicity and naive unconsciousness + of degradation with which the student proclaimed himself a public beggar. + </p> + <p> + “And how did you generally succeed?” + </p> + <p> + “In most cases I was threatened with the stocks, and twice I was consigned + by the <i>juge de paix</i> to the village police, to be passed to some + mystic Mecca they were pleased to entitle ‘a parish.’ Ah” (continued the + German with much <i>bonhomie</i>), “it was a pity to see in a great nation + so much value attached to such a trifle as money. But what surprised me + greatly was the tone of your poetry. Madame de Stael, who knew perhaps as + much of England as she did of Germany, tells us that its chief character + is the <i>chivalresque</i>; and, excepting only Scott, who, by the way, is + <i>not</i> English, I did not find one chivalrous poet among you. Yet,” + continued the student, “between ourselves, I fancy that in our present age + of civilization, there is an unexamined mistake in the general mind as to + the value of poetry. It delights still as ever, but it has ceased to + teach. The prose of the heart enlightens, touches, rouses, far more than + poetry. Your most philosophical poets would be commonplace if turned into + prose. Verse cannot contain the refining subtle thoughts which a great + prose writer embodies; the rhyme eternally cripples it; it properly deals + with the common problems of human nature, which are now hackneyed, and not + with the nice and philosophizing corollaries which may be drawn from them. + Thus, though it would seem at first a paradox, commonplace is more the + element of poetry than of prose.” + </p> + <p> + This sentiment charmed Vane, who had nothing of the poet about him; and he + took the student to share their breakfast at the inn, with a complacency + he rarely experienced at the remeeting with a new acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast, our party proceeded through the town towards the + wonderful castle which is its chief attraction, and the noblest wreck of + German grandeur. + </p> + <p> + And now pausing, the mountain yet unscaled, the stately ruin frowned upon + them, girt by its massive walls and hanging terraces, round which from + place to place clung the dwarfed and various foliage. High at the rear + rose the huge mountain, covered, save at its extreme summit, with dark + trees, and concealing in its mysterious breast the shadowy beings of the + legendary world. But towards the ruins, and up a steep ascent, you may see + a few scattered sheep thinly studding the broken ground. Aloft, above the + ramparts, rose, desolate and huge, the Palace of the Electors of the + Palatinate. In its broken walls you may trace the tokens of the lightning + that blasted its ancient pomp, but still leaves in the vast extent of pile + a fitting monument of the memory of Charlemagne. Below, in the distance, + spread the plain far and spacious, till the shadowy river, with one + solitary sail upon its breast, united the melancholy scene of earth with + the autumnal sky. + </p> + <p> + “See,” said Vane, pointing to two peasants who were conversing near them + on the matters of their little trade, utterly unconscious of the + associations of the spot, “see, after all that is said and done about + human greatness, it is always the greatness of the few. Ages pass, and + leave the poor herd, the mass of men, eternally the same,—hewers of + wood and drawers of water. The pomp of princes has its ebb and flow, but + the peasant sells his fruit as gayly to the stranger on the ruins as to + the emperor in the palace.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it be always so?” said the student. + </p> + <p> + “Let us hope not, for the sake of permanence in glory,” said Trevylyan. + “Had <i>a people</i> built yonder palace, its splendour would never have + passed away.” + </p> + <p> + Vane shrugged his shoulders, and Du——-e took snuff. + </p> + <p> + But all the impressions produced by the castle at a distance are as + nothing when you stand within its vast area and behold the architecture of + all ages blended into one mighty ruin! The rich hues of the masonry, the + sweeping facades—every description of building which man ever framed + for war or for luxury—is here; all having only the common character,—RUIN. + The feudal rampart, the yawning fosse, the rude tower, the splendid arch, + the strength of a fortress, the magnificence of a palace,—all + united, strike upon the soul like the history of a fallen empire in all + its epochs. + </p> + <p> + “There is one singular habitant of these ruins,” said the student,—“a + solitary painter, who has dwelt here some twenty years, companioned only + by his Art. No other apartment but that which he tenants is occupied by a + human being.” + </p> + <p> + “What a poetical existence!” cried Gertrude, enchanted with a solitude so + full of associations. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so,” said the cruel Vane, ever anxious to dispel an illusion, + “but more probably custom has deadened to him all that overpowers + ourselves with awe; and he may tread among these ruins rather seeking to + pick up some rude morsel of antiquity, than feeding his imagination with + the dim traditions that invest them with so august a poetry.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur’s conjecture has something of the truth in it,” said the German; + “but then the painter is a Frenchman.” + </p> + <p> + There is a sense of fatality in the singular mournfulness and majesty + which belong to the ruins of Heidelberg, contrasting the vastness of the + strength with the utterness of the ruin. It has been twice struck with + lightning, and is the wreck of the elements, not of man; during the great + siege it sustained, the lightning is supposed to have struck the powder + magazine by accident. + </p> + <p> + What a scene for some great imaginative work! What a mocking interference + of the wrath of nature in the puny contests of men! One stroke of “the red + right arm” above us, crushing the triumph of ages, and laughing to scorn + the power of the beleaguers and the valour of the besieged! + </p> + <p> + They passed the whole day among these stupendous ruins, and felt, when + they descended to their inn, as if they had left the caverns of some + mighty tomb. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. NO PART OF THE EARTH REALLY SOLITARY.—THE SONG OF THE + </h2> + <p> + FAIRIES.—THE SACRED SPOT.—THE WITCH OF THE EVIL WINDS.—THE + SPELL AND THE DUTY OF THE FAIRIES. + </p> + <p> + BUT in what spot of the world is there ever utter solitude? The vanity of + man supposes that loneliness is <i>his</i> absence! Who shall say what + millions of spiritual beings glide invisibly among scenes apparently the + most deserted? Or what know we of our own mechanism, that we should deny + the possibility of life and motion to things that we cannot ourselves + recognize? + </p> + <p> + At moonlight, in the Great Court of Heidelberg, on the borders of the + shattered basin overgrown with weeds, the following song was heard by the + melancholy shades that roam at night through the mouldering halls of old, + and the gloomy hollows in the mountain of Heidelberg. + </p> + <p> + SONG OF THE FAIRIES IN THE RUINS OF HEIDELBERG. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From the woods and the glossy green, + With the wild thyme strewn; + From the rivers whose crisped sheen + Is kissed by the trembling moon; + While the dwarf looks out from his mountain cave, + And the erl king from his lair, + And the water-nymph from her moaning wave, + We skirr the limber air. + + There’s a smile on the vine-clad shore, + A smile on the castled heights; + They dream back the days of yore, + And they smile at our roundel rites! + Our roundel rites! + + Lightly we tread these halls around, + Lightly tread we; + Yet, hark! we have scared with a single sound + The moping owl on the breathless tree, + And the goblin sprites! + Ha, ha! we have scared with a single sound + The old gray owl on the breathless tree, + And the goblin sprites! +</pre> + <p> + “They come not,” said Pipalee; “yet the banquet is prepared, and the poor + queen will be glad of some refreshment.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity! all the rose-leaves will be over-broiled,” said Nip. + </p> + <p> + “Let us amuse ourselves with the old painter,” quoth Trip, springing over + the ruins. + </p> + <p> + “Well said,” cried Pipalee and Nip; and all three, leaving my lord + treasurer amazed at their levity, whisked into the painter’s apartment. + Permitting them to throw the ink over their victim’s papers, break his + pencils, mix his colours, mislay his nightcap, and go whiz against his + face in the shape of a great bat, till the astonished Frenchman began to + think the pensive goblins of the place had taken a sprightly fit,—we + hasten to a small green spot some little way from the town, in the valley + of the Neckar, and by the banks of its silver stream. It was circled round + by dark trees, save on that side bordered by the river. The wild-flowers + sprang profusely from the turf, which yet was smooth and singularly green. + And there was the German fairy describing a circle round the spot, and + making his elvish spells; and Nymphalin sat droopingly in the centre, + shading her face, which was bowed down as the head of a water-lily, and + weeping crystal tears. + </p> + <p> + There came a hollow murmur through the trees, and a rush as of a mighty + wind, and a dark form emerged from the shadow and approached the spot. + </p> + <p> + The face was wrinkled and old, and stern with a malevolent and evil + aspect. The frame was lean and gaunt, and supported by a staff, and a + short gray mantle covered its bended shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Things of the moonbeam!” said the form, in a shrill and ghastly voice, + “what want ye here; and why charm ye this spot from the coming of me and + mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Dark witch of the blight and blast,” answered the fairy, “THOU that + nippest the herb in its tender youth, and eatest up the core of the soft + bud; behold, it is but a small spot that the fairies claim from thy + demesnes, and on which, through frost and heat, they will keep the herbage + green and the air gentle in its sighs!” + </p> + <p> + “And, wherefore, O dweller in the crevices of the earth, wherefore wouldst + thou guard this spot from the curses of the seasons?” + </p> + <p> + “We know by our instinct,” answered the fairy, “that this spot will become + the grave of one whom the fairies love; hither, by an unfelt influence, + shall we guide her yet living steps; and in gazing upon this spot shall + the desire of quiet and the resignation to death steal upon her soul. + Behold, throughout the universe, all things are at war with one another,—the + lion with the lamb; the serpent with the bird; and even the gentlest bird + itself with the moth of the air; or the worm of the humble earth! What + then to men, and to the spirits transcending men, is so lovely and so + sacred as a being that harmeth none; what so beautiful as Innocence; what + so mournful as its untimely tomb? And shall not that tomb be sacred; shall + it not be our peculiar care? May we not mourn over it as at the passing + away of some fair miracle in Nature, too tender to endure, too rare to be + forgotten? It is for this, O dread waker of the blast, that the fairies + would consecrate this little spot; for this they would charm away from its + tranquil turf the wandering ghoul and the evil children of the night. + Here, not the ill-omened owl, nor the blind bat, nor the unclean worm + shall come. And thou shouldst have neither will nor power to nip the + flowers of spring, nor sear the green herbs of summer. Is it not, dark + mother of the evil winds,—is it not <i>our</i> immemorial office to + tend the grave of Innocence, and keep fresh the flowers round the + resting-place of Virgin Love?” + </p> + <p> + Then the witch drew her cloak round her, and muttered to herself, and + without further answer turned away among the trees and vanished, as the + breath of the east wind, which goeth with her as her comrade, scattered + the melancholy leaves along her path! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. GERTRUDE AND TREVYLYAN, WHEN THE FORMER IS AWAKENED TO THE + </h2> + <p> + APPROACH OF DEATH. + </p> + <p> + THE next day, Gertrude and her companions went along the banks of the + haunted Neckar. She had passed a sleepless and painful night, and her + evanescent and childlike spirits had sobered down into a melancholy and + thoughtful mood. She leaned back in an open carriage with Trevylyan, ever + constant, by her side, while Du——-e and Vane rode slowly in + advance. Trevylyan tried in vain to cheer her; even his attempts (usually + so eagerly received) to charm her duller moments by tale or legend were, + in this instance, fruitless. She shook her head gently, pressed his hand, + and said, “No, dear Trevylyan, no; even your art fails to-day, but your + kindness never!” and pressing his hand to her lips, she burst passionately + into tears. + </p> + <p> + Alarmed and anxious, he clasped her to his breast, and strove to lift her + face, as it drooped on its resting-place, and kiss away its tears. “Oh,” + said she, at length, “do not despise my weakness; I am overcome by my own + thoughts: I look upon the world, and see that it is fair and good; I look + upon you, and I see all that I can venerate and adore. Life seems to me so + sweet, and the earth so lovely; can you wonder, then, that I should shrink + at the thought of death? Nay, interrupt me not, dear Albert; the thought + must be borne and braved. I have not cherished, I have not yielded to it + through my long-increasing illness; but there have been times when it has + forced itself upon me, and now, <i>now</i> more palpably than ever. Do not + think me weak and childish. I never feared death till I knew you; but to + see you no more,—never again to touch this dear hand, never to thank + you for your love, never to be sensible of your care,—to lie down + and sleep, <i>and never, never, once more to dream of you</i>! Ah, that is + a bitter thought! but I will brave it,—yes, brave it as one worthy + of your regard.” + </p> + <p> + Trevylyan, choked by his emotions, covered his own face with his hands, + and, leaning back in the carriage, vainly struggled with his sobs. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she said, yet ever and anon clinging to the hope that had + utterly abandoned <i>him</i>, “perhaps, I may yet deceive myself; and my + love for you, which seems to me as if it could conquer death, may bear me + up against this fell disease. The hope to live with you, to watch you, to + share your high dreams, and oh! above all, to soothe you in sorrow and + sickness, as you have soothed me—has not that hope something that + may support even this sinking frame? And who shall love thee as I love; + who see thee as I have seen; who pray for thee in gratitude and tears as I + have prayed? Oh, Albert, so little am I jealous of you, so little do I + think of myself in comparison, that I could close my eyes happily on the + world if I knew that what I could be to thee another will be!” + </p> + <p> + “Gertrude,” said Trevylyan, and lifting up his colourless face, he gazed + upon her with an earnest and calm solemnity, “Gertrude, let us be united + at once! If Fate must sever us, let her cut the last tie too; let us feel + that at least upon earth we have been all in all to each other; let us + defy death, even as it frowns upon us. Be mine to-morrow—this day—oh, + God! be mine!” + </p> + <p> + Over even that pale countenance, beneath whose hues the lamp of life so + faintly fluttered, a deep, radiant flush passed one moment, lighting up + the beautiful ruin with the glow of maiden youth and impassioned hope, and + then died rapidly away. + </p> + <p> + “No, Albert,” she said sighing; “no! it must not be. Far easier would come + the pang to you, while yet we are not wholly united; and for my own part I + am selfish, and feel as if I should leave a tenderer remembrance on your + heart thus parted,—tenderer, but not so sad. I would not wish you to + feel yourself widowed to my memory; I would not cling like a blight to + your fair prospects of the future. Remember me rather as a dream,—as + something never wholly won, and therefore asking no fidelity but that of + kind and forbearing thoughts. Do you remember one evening as we sailed + along the Rhine—ah! happy, happy hour!—that we heard from the + banks a strain of music,—not so skilfully played as to be worth + listening to for itself, but, suiting as it did the hour and the scene, we + remained silent, that we might hear it the better; and when it died + insensibly upon the waters, a certain melancholy stole over us; we felt + that a something that softened the landscape had gone, and we conversed + less lightly than before? Just so, my own loved, my own adored Trevylyan, + just so is the influence that our brief love, your poor Gertrude’s + existence, should bequeath to your remembrance. A sound, a presence, + should haunt you for a little while, but no more, ere you again become + sensible of the glories that court your way!” + </p> + <p> + But as Gertrude said this, she turned to Trevylyan, and seeing his agony, + she could refrain no longer; she felt that to soothe was to insult; and + throwing herself upon his breast, they mingled their tears together. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. A SPOT TO BE BURIED IN. + </h2> + <p> + ON their return homeward, Du——-e took the third seat in the + carriage, and endeavoured, with his usual vivacity, to cheer the spirits + of his companions; and such was the elasticity of Gertrude’s nature, that + with her, he, to a certain degree, succeeded in his kindly attempt. + Quickly alive to the charms of scenery, she entered by degrees into the + external beauties which every turn in the road opened to their view; and + the silvery smoothness of the river, that made the constant attraction of + the landscape, the serenity of the time, and the clearness of the heavens, + tended to tranquillize a mind that, like a sunflower, so instinctively + turned from the shadow to the light. + </p> + <p> + Once Du——-e stopped the carriage in a spot of herbage, bedded + among the trees, and said to Gertrude, “We are now in one of the many + places along the Neckar which your favourite traditions serve to + consecrate. Amidst yonder copses, in the early ages of Christianity, there + dwelt a hermit, who, though young in years, was renowned for the sanctity + of his life. None knew whence he came, nor for what cause he had limited + the circle of life to the seclusion of his cell. He rarely spoke, save + when his ghostly advice or his kindly prayer was needed; he lived upon + herbs, and the wild fruits which the peasants brought to his cave; and + every morning and every evening he came to this spot to fill his pitcher + from the water of the stream. But here he was observed to linger long + after his task was done, and to sit gazing upon the walls of a convent + which then rose upon the opposite side of the bank, though now even its + ruins are gone. Gradually his health gave way beneath the austerities he + practised; and one evening he was found by some fishermen insensible on + the turf. They bore him for medical aid to the opposite convent; and one + of the sisterhood, the daughter of a prince, was summoned to attend the + recluse. But when his eyes opened upon hers, a sudden recognition appeared + to seize both. He spoke; and the sister threw herself on the couch of the + dying man, and shrieked forth a name, the most famous in the surrounding + country,—the name of a once noted minstrel, who, in those rude + times, had mingled the poet with the lawless chief, and was supposed, + years since, to have fallen in one of the desperate frays between prince + and outlaw, which were then common; storming the very castle which held + her, now the pious nun, then the beauty and presider over the tournament + and galliard. In her arms the spirit of the hermit passed away. She + survived but a few hours, and left conjecture busy with a history to which + it never obtained further clew. Many a troubadour in later times furnished + forth in poetry the details which truth refused to supply; and the place + where the hermit at sunrise and sunset ever came to gaze upon the convent + became consecrated by song.” + </p> + <p> + The place invested with this legendary interest was impressed with a + singular aspect of melancholy quiet; wildflowers yet lingered on the turf, + whose grassy sedges gently overhung the Neckar, that murmured amidst them + with a plaintive music. Not a wind stirred the trees; but at a little + distance from the place, the spire of a church rose amidst the copse; and, + as they paused, they suddenly heard from the holy building the bell that + summons to the burial of the dead. It came on the ear in such harmony with + the spot, with the hour, with the breathing calm, that it thrilled to the + heart of each with an inexpressible power. It was like the voice of + another world, that amidst the solitude of nature summoned the lulled + spirit from the cares of this; it invited, not repulsed, and had in its + tone more of softness than of awe. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude turned, with tears starting to her eyes, and, laying her hand on + Trevylyan’s, whispered, “In such a spot, so calm, so sequestered, yet in + the neighbourhood of the house of God, would I wish this broken frame to + be consigned to rest.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THE LAST. THE CONCLUSION OF THIS TALE. + </h2> + <p> + FROM that day Gertrude’s spirit resumed its wonted cheerfulness, and for + the ensuing week she never reverted to her approaching fate; she seemed + once more to have grown unconscious of its limit. Perhaps she sought, + anxious for Trevylyan to the last, not to throw additional gloom over + their earthly separation; or, perhaps, once steadily regarding the + certainty of her doom, its terrors vanished. The chords of thought, + vibrating to the subtlest emotions, may be changed by a single incident, + or in a single hour; a sound of sacred music, a green and quiet + burial-place, may convert the form of death into the aspect of an angel. + And therefore wisely, and with a beautiful lore, did the Greeks strip the + grave of its unreal gloom; wisely did they body forth the great principle + of Rest by solemn and lovely images, unconscious of the northern madness + that made a Spectre of REPOSE! + </p> + <p> + But while Gertrude’s <i>spirit</i> resumed its healthful tone, her <i>frame</i> + rapidly declined, and a few days now could do the ravage of months a + little while before. + </p> + <p> + One evening, amidst the desolate ruins of Heidelberg, Trevylyan, who had + gone forth alone to indulge the thoughts which he strove to stifle in + Gertrude’s presence, suddenly encountered Vane. That calm and almost + callous pupil of the adversities of the world was standing alone, and + gazing upon the shattered casements and riven tower, through which the sun + now cast its slant and parting ray. + </p> + <p> + Trevylyan, who had never loved this cold and unsusceptible man, save for + the sake of Gertrude, felt now almost a hatred creep over him, as he + thought in such a time, and with death fastening upon the flower of his + house, he could yet be calm, and smile, and muse, and moralize, and play + the common part of the world. He strode slowly up to him, and standing + full before him, said with a hollow voice and writhing smile, “You amuse + yourself pleasantly, sir: this is a fine scene; and to meditate over + griefs a thousand years hushed to rest is better than watching over a sick + girl and eating away your heart with fear!” + </p> + <p> + Vane looked at him quietly, but intently, and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Vane!” continued Trevylyan, with the same preternatural attempt at calm, + “Vane, in a few days all will be over, and you and I, the things, the + plotters, the false men of the world, will be left alone,—left by + the sole being that graces our dull life, that makes by her love either of + us worthy of a thought!” + </p> + <p> + Vane started, and turned away his face. “You are cruel,” said he, with a + faltering voice. + </p> + <p> + “What, man!” shouted Trevylyan, seizing him abruptly by the arm, “can <i>you</i> + feel? Is your cold heart touched? Come then,” added he, with a wild laugh, + “come, let us be friends!” + </p> + <p> + Vane drew himself aside, with a certain dignity, that impressed Trevylyan + even at that hour. “Some years hence,” said he, “you will be called cold + as I am; sorrow will teach you the wisdom of indifference—it is a + bitter school, sir,—a bitter school! But think you that I do indeed + see unmoved my last hope shivered,—the last tie that binds me to my + kind? No, no! I feel it as a man may feel; I cloak it as a man grown gray + in misfortune should do! My child is more to me than your betrothed to + you; for you are young and wealthy, and life smiles before you; but I—no + more—sir, no more!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” said Trevylyan, humbly, “I have wronged you; but Gertrude is + an excuse for any crime of love; and now listen to my last prayer,—give + her to me, even on the verge of the grave. Death cannot seize her in the + arms, in the vigils of a love like mine.” + </p> + <p> + Vane shuddered. “It were to wed the dead,” said he. “No!” + </p> + <p> + Trevylyan drew back, and without another word, hurried away; he returned + to the town; he sought, with methodical calmness, the owner of the piece + of ground in which Gertrude had wished to be buried. He purchased it, and + that very night he sought the priest of a neighbouring church, and + directed it should be consecrated according to the due rite and + ceremonial. + </p> + <p> + The priest, an aged and pious man, was struck by the request, and the air + of him who made it. + </p> + <p> + “Shall it be done forthwith, sir?” said he, hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “Forthwith,” answered Trevylyan, with a calm smile,—“a bridegroom, + you know, is naturally impatient.” + </p> + <p> + For the next three days, Gertrude was so ill as to be confined to her bed. + All that time Trevylyan sat outside her door, without speaking, scarcely + lifting his eyes from the ground. The attendants passed to and fro,—he + heeded them not; perhaps as even the foreign menials turned aside and + wiped their eyes, and prayed God to comfort him, he required compassion + less at that time than any other. There is a stupefaction in woe, and the + heart sleeps without a pang when exhausted by its afflictions. + </p> + <p> + But on the fourth day Gertrude rose, and was carried down (how changed, + yet how lovely ever!) to their common apartment. During those three days + the priest had been with her often, and her spirit, full of religion from + her childhood, had been unspeakably soothed by his comfort. She took food + from the hand of Trevylyan; she smiled upon him as sweetly as of old. She + conversed with him, though with a faint voice, and at broken intervals. + But she felt no pain; life ebbed away gradually, and without a pang. “My + father,” she said to Vane, whose features still bore their usual calm, + whatever might have passed within, “I know that you will grieve when I am + gone more than the world might guess; for I alone know what you were years + ago, ere friends left you and fortune frowned, and ere my poor mother + died. But do not—do not believe that hope and comfort leave you with + me. Till the heaven pass away from the earth there shall be comfort and + hope for all.” + </p> + <p> + They did not lodge in the town, but had fixed their abode on its + outskirts, and within sight of the Neckar; and from the window they saw a + light sail gliding gayly by till it passed, and solitude once more rested + upon the waters. + </p> + <p> + “The sail passes from our eyes,” said Gertrude, pointing to it, “but still + it glides on as happily though we see it no more; and I feel—yes, + Father, I feel—I know that it is so with <i>us</i>. We glide down + the river of time from the eyes of men, but we cease not the less to <i>be</i>!” + </p> + <p> + And now, as the twilight descended, she expressed a wish, before she + retired to rest, to be left alone with Trevylyan. He was not then sitting + by her side, for he would not trust himself to do so, but with his face + averted, at a little distance from her. She called him by his name; he + answered not, nor turned. Weak as she was, she raised herself from the + sofa, and crept gently along the floor till she came to him, and sank in + his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, unkind!” she said, “unkind for once! Will you turn away from me? + Come, let us look once more on the river: see! the night darkens over it. + Our pleasant voyage, the type of our love, is finished; our sail may be + unfurled no more. Never again can your voice soothe the lassitude of + sickness with the legend and the song; the course is run, the vessel is + broken up, night closes over its fragments; but now, in this hour, love + me, be kind to me as ever. Still let me be your own Gertrude, still let me + close my eyes this night, as before, with the sweet consciousness that I + am loved.” + </p> + <p> + “Loved! O Gertrude! speak not to me thus!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, that is yourself again!” and she clung with weak arms caressingly + to his breast. “And now,” she said more solemnly, “let us forget that we + are mortal; let us remember only that life is a part, not the whole, of + our career; let us feel in this soft hour, and while yet we are unsevered, + the presence of The Eternal that is within us, so that it shall not be as + death, but as a short absence; and when once the pang of parting is over, + you must think only that we are shortly to meet again. What! you turn from + me still? See, I do not weep or grieve, I have conquered the pang of our + absence; will you be outdone by me? Do you remember, Albert, that you once + told me how the wisest of the sages of old, in prison, and before death, + consoled his friends with the proof of the immortality of the soul? Is it + not a consolation; does it not suffice; or will you deem it wise from the + lips of wisdom, but vain from the lips of love?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush!” said Trevylyan, wildly; “or I shall think you an angel + already.” + </p> + <p> + But let us close this commune, and leave unrevealed the <i>last</i> sacred + words that ever passed between them upon earth. + </p> + <p> + When Vane and the physician stole back softly into the room, Trevylyan + motioned to them to be still. “She sleeps,” he whispered; “hush!” And in + truth, wearied out by her own emotions, and lulled by the belief that she + had soothed one with whom her heart dwelt now, as ever, she had fallen + into sleep, or it may be, insensibility, on his breast. There as she lay, + so fair, so frail, so delicate, the twilight deepened into shade, and the + first star, like the hope of the future, broke forth upon the darkness of + the earth. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could equal the stillness without, save that which lay + breathlessly within. For not one of the group stirred or spoke, and + Trevylyan, bending over her, never took his eyes from her face, watching + the parted lips, and fancying that he imbibed the breath. Alas, the breath + was stilled! from sleep to death she had glided without a sigh,—happy, + most happy in that death! cradled in the arms of unchanged love, and + brightened in her last thought by the consciousness of innocence and the + assurances of Heaven! + </p> + <p> + ....... + </p> + <p> + Trevylyan, after a long sojourn on the Continent, returned to England. He + plunged into active life, and became what is termed in this age of little + names a distinguished and noted man. But what was mainly remarkable in his + future conduct was his impatience of rest. He eagerly courted all + occupations, even of the most varied and motley kind,—business, + letters, ambition, pleasure. He suffered no pause in his career; and + leisure to him was as care to others. He lived in the world, as the + worldly do, discharging its duties, fostering its affections, and + fulfilling its career. But there was a deep and wintry change within him,—<i>the + sunlight of his life was gone</i>; the loveliness of romance had left the + earth. The stem was proof as heretofore to the blast, but the green leaves + were severed from it forever, and the bird had forsaken its boughs. Once + he had idolized the beauty that is born of song, the glory and the ardour + that invest such thoughts as are not of our common clay; but the well of + enthusiasm was dried up, and the golden bowl was broken at the fountain. + With Gertrude the poetry of existence was gone. As she herself had + described her loss, a music had ceased to breathe along the face of + things; and though the bark might sail on as swiftly, and the stream swell + with as proud a wave, a something that had vibrated on the heart was + still, and the magic of the voyage was no more. + </p> + <p> + And Gertrude sleeps on the spot where she wished her last couch to be + made; and far—oh, far dearer, is that small spot on the distant + banks of the gliding Neckar to Trevylyan’s heart than all the broad lands + and fertile fields of his ancestral domain. The turf too preserves its + emerald greenness; and it would seem to me that the field flowers spring + up by the sides of the simple tomb even more profusely than of old. A + curve in the bank breaks the tide of the Neckar; and therefore its stream + pauses, as if to linger reluctantly, by that solitary grave, and to mourn + among the rustling sedges ere it passes on. And I have thought, when I + last looked upon that quiet place, when I saw the turf so fresh, and the + flowers so bright of hue, that aerial hands might <i>indeed</i> tend the + sod; that it was by no <i>imaginary</i> spells that I summoned the fairies + to my tale; that in truth, and with vigils constant though unseen, they + yet kept from all polluting footsteps, and from the harsher influence of + the seasons, the grave of one who so loved their race; and who, in her + gentle and spotless virtue claimed kindred with the beautiful Ideal of the + world. Is there one of us who has not known some being for whom it seemed + not too wild a fantasy to indulge such dreams? + </p> + <p> + THE END. <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Pilgrims Of The Rhine, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE *** + +***** This file should be named 8206-h.htm or 8206-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/2/0/8206/ + +Produced by David Widger and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |