HOPES AND FEARS—COMPENSATIONS IN LIFE—ATHENIAN COMEDY—MADEIRA AND MUSIC—CONFIDENCES
(Greek Passage)
The Ghost of Darius to the Chorus, in
the Perso of Æschylus.
Farewell, old friends: and even if ills surround you,
Seize every joy the passing day can bring,
For wealth affords no pleasure to the dead.
Dorothy had begun to hope that Harry1's news might be true, but even Harry's sanguineness2 began to give way: the pertinacity3 with which the young master remained at home threw a damp on their expectations. But having once fairly started, in the way of making love on the one side and responding to it on the other, they could not but continue as they had begun, and she permitted him to go on building castles in the air, in which the Christmas of the ensuing year was arrayed in the brightest apparel of fire and festival.
Harry, walking home one afternoon, met the Reverend Doctor Opimian, who was on his way to the Tower, where he purposed to dine and pass the night. Mr. Falconer's absence from the ball had surprised him, especially as Lord Curryfin's rivalry5 had ceased, and he could imagine no good cause for his not returning to the Grange. The doctor held out his hand to Harry, who returned the grasp most cordially. The doctor asked him, 'how he and his six young friends were prospering6 in their siege of the hearts of the seven sisters.'
Harry Hedgerow. Why, sir, so far as the young ladies are concerned, we have no cause to complain. But we can't make out the young gentleman. He used to sit and read all the morning, at the top of the Tower. Now he goes up the stairs, and after a little while he comes down again, and walks into the forest. Then he goes upstairs again, and down again, and out again. Something must be come to him, and the only thing we can think of is, that he is crossed in love. And he never gives me a letter or a message to the Grange. So, putting all that together, we haven't a merry Christmas, you see, sir.
The Rev4. Dr. Opimian. I see, still harping7 on a merry Christmas. Let us hope that the next may make amends8.
Harry Hedgerow. Have they a merry Christmas at the Grange, sir?
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. Very merry.
Harry Hedgerow. Then there's nobody crossed in love there, sir.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. That is more than I can say. I cannot answer for others. I am not, and never was, if that is any comfort to you.
Harry Hedgerow. It is a comfort to me to see you, and hear the sound of your voice, sir. It always does me good.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. Why then, my young friend, you are most heartily9 welcome to see and hear me whenever you please, if you will come over to the Vicarage. And you will always find a piece of cold roast beef and a tankard of good ale; and just now a shield of brawn10. There is some comfort in them.
Harry Hedgerow. Ah! thank ye, sir. They are comfortable things in their way. But it isn't for them I should come.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. I believe you, my young friend. But a man fights best when he has a good basis of old English fare to stand on, against all opposing forces, whether of body or mind. Come and see me. And whatever happens in this world, never let it spoil your dinner.
Harry Hedgerow. That's father's advice, sir. But it won't always do. When he lost mother, that spoiled his dinner for many a day. He has never been the same man since, though he bears up as well as he can. But if I could take Miss Dorothy home to him, I'm sure that would all but make him young again. And if he had a little Harry dandle next Christmas, wouldn't he give him the first spoonful out of the marrow-bone!
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. I doubt if that would be good food for little Harry, notwithstanding it was Hector's way of feeding Astyanax.{1} But we may postpone11 the discussion of his diet till he makes his appearance. In the meantime, live in hope; but live on beef and ale.
The doctor again shook him heartily by the hand, an Harry took his leave.
The doctor walked on, soliloquising as usual. 'This young man's father has lost a good wife, and has never been the same man since. If he had had a bad wife, he would have felt it as a happy release. This life has strange compensations. It helps to show the truth of Juvenal's remark, that the gods alone know what is good for us.{2}
1 Il. xxii. vv. 500, 501.
2 Juvenal: Sut. x. v. 346.
Now, here again is my friend at the Tower. If he had not, as I am sure he has, the love of Morgana, he would console himself with his Vestals. If he had not their sisterly affection, he would rejoice in the love of Morgana, but having both the love and the affection, he is between two counter-attractions, either of which would make him happy, and both together make him miserable12. Who can say which is best for him? or for them? or for Morgana herself? I almost wish the light of her favour had shone on Lord Curryfin. That chance has pass from her; and she will not easily find such another. Perhaps she might have held him in her bonds, if she had been so disposed. But Miss Niphet. is a glorious girl, and there is a great charm in such perfect reciprocity. Jupiter himself, as I have before had occasion to remark, must have prearranged their consentaneity. The young lord went on some time, adhering, as he supposed, to his first pursuit, and falling unconsciously and inextricably into the second; and the young lady went on, devoting her whole heart and soul to him, not clearly perhaps knowing it herself, but certainly not suspecting that any one else could dive into the heart of her mystery. And now they both seem surprised that nobody seems surprised at their sudden appearance in the character affianced lovers. His is another example of strange compensation; for if Morgana had accepted him on his first offer, Miss Niphet would not have thought of him; but she found him a waif and stray, a flotsam on the waters of love, and landed him at her feet without art or stratagem13. Artlessness and simplicity14 triumphed, where the deepest design would have failed. I do not know if she had any compensation to look for; but if she had, she has found it; for never was a man with more qualities for domestic happiness, and not Pedro of Portugal himself was more overwhelmingly in love. When I first knew him, I saw only the comic side of his character: he has a serious one too, and not the least agreeable part of it: but the comic still shows itself. I cannot well define whether his exuberant15 good-humour is contagious16, and makes me laugh by anticipation17 as soon as I fall into his company, or whether it is impossible to think of him, gravely lecturing on Fish, as a member of the Pantopragmatic Society, without perceiving a ludicrous contrast between his pleasant social face and the unpleasant social impertinence of those would-be meddlers with everything. It is true, he has renounced18 that folly19; but it is not so easy to dissociate him from the recollection. No matter: if I laugh, he laughs with me: if he laughs, I laugh with him. "Laugh when you can," is a good maxim20: between well-disposed sympathies a very little cause strikes out the fire of merriment—
As long liveth the merry man, they say,
As doth the sorry man, and longer by a day.
And a day so acquired is a day worth having. But then—
Another sayd sawe doth men advise,
That they be together both merry and wise.{1}
1 These two quotations21 are from the oldest comedy in the
English language: Ralph Roister Doister, 1566. Republished
by the Shakespeare Society, 1847.
Very good doctrine22, and fit to be kept in mind: but there is much good laughter without much wisdom, and yet with no harm in it.'
The doctor was approaching the Tower when he met Mr. Falconer, who had made one of his feverish23 exits from it, and was walking at double his usual speed. He turned back with the doctor, who having declined taking anything before dinner but a glass of wine and a biscuit, they went up together to the library.
They conversed24 only on literary subjects. The doctor, though Miss Gryll was uppermost in his mind, determined25 not to originate a word respecting her, and Mr. Falconer, though she was also his predominant idea, felt that it was only over a bottle of Madeira he could unbosom himself freely to the doctor.
The doctor asked, 'What he had been reading of late? He said, 'I have tried many things, but I have alway returned to Orlando Innamorato. There it is on the table an old edition of the original poem.{1} The doctor said, I have seen an old edition, something like this, on the drawing-room table at the Grange.' He was about to say something touching26 sympathy in taste, but he checked himself in time. The two younger sisters brought in lights. 'I observe,' said the doctor, 'that your handmaids always move in pairs. My hot water for dressing27 is always brought by two inseparables, whom it seems profanation28 to call housemaids.'
Mr. Falconer. It is always so on my side of the house that not a breath of scandal may touch their reputation. If you were to live here from January to December, with a houseful of company, neither you nor I, nor any of my friends, would see one of them a............