THE FOREST DELL--THE POWER OF LOVE--THE LOTTERY OF MARRIAGE
(Greek passage) Philetaerus: Cynagis.
I pray you, what can mortal man do better
Than live his daily life as pleasantly
As daily means avail him? Life's frail tenure
Warns not to trust to-morrow.
The next day Mr. Falconer was perfectly certain that Miss Gryll was
not yet well enough to be removed. No one was anxious to refute the
proposition; they were all so well satisfied with,»the place and the
company they were in, that they felt, the young lady included, a decided
unwillingness to go. That day Miss Gryll came to dinner, and the next
day she came to breakfast, and in the evening she joined in the music,
and, in short, she was once more altogether herself; but Mr. Falconer
continued to insist that the journey home would be too much for her.
When this excuse failed, he still entreated his new friends to remain;
and so passed several days. At length Mr. Gryll found he must resolve
on departing, especially as the time had arrived when he expected some
visitors. He urgently invited Mr. Falconer to visit him in return. The
invitation was cordially accepted, and in the meantime considerable
progress had been made in the Aristophanic comedy. Mr. Falconer, after
the departure of his visitors, went up into his library. He took down
one book after another, but they did not fix his attention as they used
to do; he turned over the leaves of Homer, and read some passages about
Circe; then took down Bojardo, and read of Morgana and Falerina and
Dragontina; then took down Tasso and read of Armida. He would not look
at Ariosto's Alcina, because her change into an old woman destroyed
all the charm of the previous picture. He dwelt on the enchantress who
remained in unaltered beauty. But even this he did only by fits and
starts, and found himself continually wandering away towards a more
enchanting reality.
He descended to his bedroom, and meditated on ideal beauty in the
portraits of Saint Catharine. But he could not help thinking that the
ideal might be real, at least in one instance, and he wandered down into
his drawing-room. There he sat absorbed in thought, till his two young
handmaids appeared with his luncheon. He smiled when he saw them, and
sat down to the table as if nothing had disturbed him. Then, taking his
stick and his dog, he walked out into the forest.
There was within moderate distance a deep dell, in the bottom of which
ran a rivulet, very small in dry weather, but in heavy rains becoming
a torrent, which had worn itself a high-banked channel, winding in
fantastic curves from side to side of its narrow boundaries. Above this
channel old forest trees rose to a great height on both sides of the
dell The slope every here and there was broken by promontories which
during centuries the fall of the softer portions of the soil had formed;
and on these promontories were natural platforms, covered, as they were
more or less accessible to the sun, with grass and moss and fern and
foxglove, and every variety of forest vegetation. These platforms were
favourite resorts of deer, which imparted to the wild scene its own
peculiar life.
This was a scene in which, but for the deeper and deeper wear of the
floods and the bolder falls of the promontories, time had made little
change. The eyes of the twelfth century had seen it much as it appeared
to those of the nineteenth. The ghosts of departed ages might seem
to pass through it in succession, with all their changes of faith and
purpose and manners and costume. To a man who loved to dwell in the
past, there could not be a more congenial scene. One old oak stood in
the centre of one of the green platforms, and a portion of its gnarled
roots presented a convenient seat. Mr. Falconer had frequently passed a
day here when alone. The deer had become too accustomed to him to fly at
his approach, and the dog had been too well disciplined to molest them.
There he had sat for hours at a time, reading his favourite poets.
[Illustration: Reading his favourite poets. 107-77]
There was no great poet with some of whose scenes this scenery did not
harmonise. The deep woods that surrounded the dwelling of Circe, the
obscure sylvan valley in which Dante met Virgil, the forest depths
through which Angelica fled, the enchanted wood in which Rinaldo met the
semblance of Armida, the forest-brook by which Jaques moralised over the
wounded deer, were all reproduced in this single spot, and fancy peopled
it at pleasure with nymphs and genii, fauns and satyrs, knights and
ladies, friars, foresters, hunters, and huntress maids, till the whole
diurnal world seemed to pass away like a vision. There, for him, Matilda
had gathered flowers on the opposite bank;{1} Laura had risen from one
of the little pools--resting-places of the stream--to seat herself
in the shade;{2} Rosalind and Maid Marian had peeped forth from their
alleys green; all different in form, in feature, and in apparel; but now
they were all one; each, as she rose in imagination, presented herself
under the aspect of the newly-known Morgana.
1 Dante: Purgatorio, c. 28.
2 Or in forma di Ninfa o d' altra Diva,
Che del più chiaro fondo di Sorga esca,
E pongasi a seder in sulla riva.
PETRARCA: Sonetto 240.
Finding his old imaginations thus disturbed, he arose and walked home.
He dined alone, drank a bottle of Madeira, as if it had been so much
water, summoned the seven sisters to the drawing-room earlier
and detained them later than usual, till their music and its old
associations had restored him to something like tranquillity. He had
always placed the _summum bonum_ of life in tranquillity, and not in
excitement. He felt that his path was now crossed by a disturbing force,
and determined to use his utmost exertions to avoid exposing himself
again to its influence.
In this mood the Reverend Doctor Opimian found him one morning in the
library reading. He sprang up to meet the Divine, exclaiming, 'Ah, dear
doctor, I am very glad to see you. Have you any special favourite among
the Odes of Pindar?'
The doctor thought this an odd question for the first salutation. He
had expected that the first inquiry would have been for the fair
convalescent. He divined that the evasion of this subject was the result
of an inward struggle. He thought it would be best to fall in with the
mood of the questioner, and said, 'Charles Fox's favourite is said to
have been the second Olympic; I am not sure that there is, or can be,
anything better. What say you?'
_Mr. Falconer._ It may be that something in it touches a peculiar tone
of feeling; but to me there is nothing like the ninth Pythian.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I can understand your fancy for that ode. You
see an image of ideal beauty in the nymph Cyrene.
_Mr. Falconer._ 'Hidden are the keys of wise persuasion of sacred
endearments,'{1} seems a strange phrase in English; but in Greek the
words invest a charming sentiment with singular grace. Fit words to
words as closely as we may, the difference of the mind which utters them
fails to reproduce the true semblance of the thought. The difference
of the effect produced, as in this instance, by exactly corresponding
words, can only be traced to the essential difference of the Greek and
the English mind.
1 (Greek passage)--Pindar?
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ And indeed, as with the words, so with the
image. We are charmed by Cyrene wrestling with the lion; but we should
scarcely choose an English girl so doing as the type of ideal beauty.
_Mr. Falconer._ We must draw the image of Cyrene, not from an English
girl but from a Greek statue.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Unless a man is in love, and then to him
all images of beauty take something of the form and features of his
mistress.
_Mr. Falconer._ That is to say, a man in love sees everything through a
false medium. It must be a dreadful calamity to be in love.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Surely not when all goes well with it.
_Mr. Falconer._ To me it would be the worst of all mischances.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Every man must be subject to Love once in his
life. It is useless to contend with him. 'Love,' says Sophocles,
'is unconquered in battle, and keeps his watch in the soft cheeks of
beauty.'{1}
_Mr. Falconer._ I am afraid, doctor, the Morgana to whom you have
introduced me is a veritable enchantress. You find me here, determined
to avoid the spell.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Pardon me. You were introduced, as Jupiter was
to Semele, by thunder and lightning, which was, happily, not quite as
fatal.
_Mr. Falconer._ I must guard against its being as fatal in a different
sense; otherwise I may be myself the _triste bidental_.{2} I have aimed
at living, like an ancient Epicurean, a life of tranquillity. I
had thought myself armed with triple brass against the folds of a
three-formed Chimaera. What with classical studies, and rural walks,
and a domestic society peculiarly my own, I led what I considered
the perfection of life: 'days so like each other they could not be
remembered.' {3}
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ It is vain to make schemes of life. The world
will have its slaves, and so will Love.
Say, if you can, in what you cannot change. For such the mind of man, as
is the day The Sire of Gods and men brings over him.{4}
1 (Greek passage)--Antigone.
2 Bidental is usually a place struck by lightning: thence
enclosed, and the soil forbidden to be moved. Persius uses
it for a person so killed.
3 Wordsworth: The Brothers.
4 Quid placet aut odio est, quod non mutabile credas?
(Greek phrase) These two quotations form the motto of
Knight's Principles of Taste.
_Mr. Falconer._ I presume, doctor, from the complacency with which you
speak of Love, you have had no cause to complain of him.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Quite the contrary. I have been an exception to
the rule that 'The course of true love never did run smooth.' Nothing
could run more smooth than mine. I was in love. I proposed. I was
accepted. No crossings before. No bickerings after. I drew a prize in
the lottery of marriage.
_Mr. Falconer._ It strikes me, doctor, that the lady may say as much.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I have made it my study to give her cause to say
so. And I have found my reward.
_Mr. Falconer._ Still, yours is an exceptional case. For, as far as
my reading and limited observation have shown me, there are few happy
marriages. It has been said by an old comic poet that 'a man who brings
a wife into his house, brings into it with her either a good or an evil
genius.'{1} And I may add from Juvenal: 'The Gods only know which it
will be.'{2}
1 (Greek passage)
Theodectes: apud Stobaeum.
2 Conjugium petimus partumque uxoris, at illis
Notum, qui pueri, qualisque futura sit uxor.
JUV. Sat. x. 352-3.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Well, the time advances for the rehearsals of
our Aristophanic comedy, and, independently of your promise to visit the
Grange, and their earnest desire to see you, you ought to be there to
assist in the preliminary arrangements.
_Mr. Falconer._ Before you came, I had determined not to go; for, to
tell you the truth, I am afraid of falling in love.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ It is not such a fearful matter. Many have
been the better for it. Many have been cured of it. It is one of those
disorders which every one must have once.
_Mr. Falconer._ The later the better.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian_. No; the later the worse, if it falls into a
season when it cannot be reciprocated.
_Mr. Falconer._ That is just the season for it. If I were sure that
it would not be reciprocated, I think I should be content to have gone
through it.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Do you think it would be reciprocated?
_Mr. Falconer._ Oh no. I only think it possible that it might be.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Well, there is a gentleman doing his best to
bring about your wish.
_Mr. Falconer._ Indeed! Who?
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian_. A visitor at the Grange, who seems in great
favour with both uncle and niece--Lord Curryfin.
_Mr. Falconer._ Lord Curryfin! I never heard you speak of him, but as a
person to be laughed at.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ That was my impression of him before I knew him.
Barring his absurdities, in the way of lecturing on fish, and of shining
in absurd company in the science of pantopragmatics, he has very much to
recommend him: and I discover in him one quality which is invaluable. He
does all he can to make himself agreeable to all about him, and he
has great tact in seeing how to do it. In any intimate relation of
life--with a reasonable wife, for instance--he would be the pink of a
good husband.
The doctor was playing, not altogether unconsciously, the part of an
innocent Iago. He only said what was true, and he said it with a good
purpose; for, with all his repeated resolutions against match-making, he
could not dismiss from his mind the wish to see his young friends come
together; and he would not have liked to see Lord Curryfin carry off the
prize through Mr. Falconer's neglect of his opportunity. Jealousy being
the test of love, he thought a spice of it might be not unseasonably
thrown in.
_Mr. Falconer._ Notwithstanding your example, doctor, love is to
be avoided, because marriage is at best a dangerous experiment. The
experience of all time demonstrates that it is seldom a happy condition.
Jupiter and Juno to begin with; Venus and Vulcan. Fictions, to be sure,
but they show Homer's view of the conjugal state. Agamemnon in the
shades, though he congratulates Ulysses on his good fortune in having an
excellent wife, advises him not to trust even her too far. Come down
to realities, even to the masters of the wise: Socrates with Xantippe;
Euripides with his two wives, who made him a woman-hater; Cicero, who
was divorced; Marcus Aurelius.--Travel downwards: Dante, who, when he
left Florence, left his wife behind him; Milton, whose first wife ran
away from him; Shakespeare, who scarcely shines in the light of a happy
husband. And if such be the lot of the lights of the world, what can
humbler men expect?
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ You have given two or three heads of a catalogue
which, I admit, might be largely extended. You can never read a history,
you can never open a newspaper, without seeing some example of unhappy
marriage. But the conspicuous are not the frequent. In the quiet path
of every-day life--the _secretum iter et fallentis semita vita_--I could
show you many couples who are really comforts and helpmates to each
other. Then, above all things, children. The great blessing of old age,
the one that never fails, if all else fail, is a daughter.
_Mr. Falconer._ All daughters are not good.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Most are. Of all relations in life, it is the
least disappointing: where parents do not so treat their daughters as to
alienate their affections, which unhappily many do.
_Mr. Falconer._ You do not say so much for sons.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Young men are ambitious, self-willed,
self-indulgent, easily corrupted by bad example, of which there is
always too much. I cannot say much for those of the present day, though
it is not absolutely destitute of good specimens.
_Mr. Falconer._ You know what Paterculus says of those of his own day.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ 'The faith of wives towards the proscribed was
great; of freed-men, middling; of slaves, some; of sons, none.'{1} So he
says; but there were some: for example, of the sons of Marcus Oppius and
Quintus Cicero.{2} You may observe, by the way, he gives the first place
to the wives.
1 Id tamen nolandum est, fuisse in proscriptos uxorum fidem
summam, libcriorum niediam, servorum ahquam, filiorum
nullam.--Paterculus, 1. ii. c. 67.
2 A compendious and comprehensive account of these and other
instances of filial piety, in the proscription of the second
triumvirate, will be found in Freinihemius; Suppununta
Liviania, cxx. 77-80.
_Mr. Falconer._ Well, that is a lottery in which every man must take his
chance. But my scheme of life was perfect.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Perhaps there is something to be said against
condemning seven young women to celibacy.
_Mr. Falconer._ But if such were their choice--
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ No doubt there are many reasons why they should
prefer the condition they are placed in to the ordinary chances of
marriage: but, after all, to be married is the natural aspiration of a
young woman, and if favourable conditions presented themselves--
_Mr. Falconer._ Conditions suitable to their education are scarcely
compatible with their social position.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ They have been educated to be both useful and
ornamental. The ornamental need not, and in their case certainly does
not, damage the useful, which in itself would procure them suitable
matches.
Mr. Falconer shook his head, and, after a brief pause, poured out a
volume of quotations, demonstrating the general unhappiness of marriage.
The doctor responded by as many, demonstrating the contrary. He paused
to take breath. Both laughed heartily. But the result of the discussion
and the laughter was, that Mr. Falconer was curious to see Lord
Curryfin, and would therefore go to Gryll Grange.