_THE TOWER_.
The next morning they went to inspect the Temple; Pitt and the two
ladies. Mr. Dallas preferred some other occupation. But the interest
brought to the inspection was not altogether legitimate. Mrs. Dallas
cared principally to see how comfortable her son's chambers were, and
to refresh herself with the tokens of antiquity and importance which
attached to the place and the institution to which he belonged. Betty
was no antiquarian in the best of times, and at present had all her
faculties concentrated on one subject and one question which was not of
the past. Nevertheless, it is of the nature of things that a high
strain of the mind renders it intensely receptive and sensitive for
outward impressions, even though they be not welcomed; like a taut
string, which answers to a breath breathed upon it. Betty did not care
for the Temple; had no interest in the old Templars' arms on the sides
of the gateways; and thought its medley of dull courts and lanes a very
undesirable place. What was it to her where Dr. Johnson had lived? she
did not care for Dr. Johnson at all, and as little for Oliver
Goldsmith. Pitt, she saw, cared; how odd it was! It was some comfort
that Mrs. Dallas shared her indifference.
'My dear,' she said, 'I do not care about anybody's lodgings but yours.
Dr. Johnson is not there now, I suppose. Where are _your_ rooms?'
But Pitt laughed, and took them first to the Temple church.
Here Betty could not refuse to look and be interested a little. How
little, she did not show. The beauty of the old church, its venerable
age, and the strange relics of the past in its monuments, did command
some attention. Yet Betty grudged it; and went over the Halls and the
Courts afterward with a half reluctant foot, hearing as if against her
will all that Pitt was telling her and his mother about them. Oh, what
did it matter, that one of Shakspeare's plays had been performed in the
Middle Temple Hall during its author's lifetime? and what did it
signify whether a given piece of architecture were Early English or
Perpendicular Gothic? What did interest her, was to see how lively and
warm was Pitt's knowledge and liking of all these things. Evidently he
delighted in them and was full of information concerning them; and his
interest did move Betty a little. It moved her to speculation also.
Could this man be so earnest in his enjoyment of Norman arches and
polished shafts and the effigies of old knights, and still hold to the
views and principles he had avowed and advocated last year? Could he,
who took such pleasure in the doings and records of the past, really
mean to attach himself to another sort of life, with which the honours
and dignities and delights of this common world have nothing to do?
The question recurred again afresh on their return home. As Betty
entered the house, she was struck by the beauty of the carved oak
staircase, and exclaimed upon it.
'Yes,' said Pitt; 'that is the prettiest part of the house. It is said
to be by Inigo Jones; but perhaps that cannot be proved.'
'Does it matter?' said Betty, laughing.
'Not to any real lover of it; but to the rest, you know, the name is
the thing.'
'"Lover of it"!' said Betty. 'Can you love a staircase?'
Pitt laughed out; then he answered seriously.
'Don't you know that all that is good and true is in a way bound up
together? it is one whole; and I take it to be certain that in
proportion to anyone's love for spiritual and moral beauty will be,
_coeteris paribus_, his appreciation of all expression of it, in nature
or art.'
'_But_', said Betty, '"spiritual and moral beauty"! You do not mean
that this oak staircase is an expression of either?'
'Of both, perhaps. At any rate, the things are very closely connected.'
'You are an enigma!' said Betty.
'I hope not always to remain so,' he answered.
Betty went up the beautiful staircase, noting as she went its beauties,
from storey to storey. She had not noticed it before, although it
really took up more room than was proportionate to the size of the
house. What did Pitt mean by those last words? she was querying. And
could it be possible that the owner of a house like this, with a
property corresponding, would not be of the world and live in the world
like other men? He must, Betty thought. It is all very well for people
who have not the means to make a figure in society, to talk of
isolating themselves from society. A man may give up a little; but when
he has much, he holds on to it. But how was it with Pitt? She must try
and find out.
She accordingly made an attempt that same evening, beginning with the
staircase again.
'I admired Inigo Jones all the way up-stairs,' she said, when she had
an opportunity to talk to Pitt alone. Mr. Dallas had gone to sleep
after dinner, and his wife was knitting at a sufficient distance. 'The
quaint fancies and delicate work are really such as I never imagined
before in wood-carving. But your words about it remain a puzzle to me.'
'My words? About art being an expression of truth? Surely that is not
new?'
'It may be very old; but I do not understand it.'
'You understand, that so far as art is genuine, it is a setter forth of
truth?'
'Well, I suppose so; of some truth. Roses must be roses, and trees must
be trees; and of course must look as like the reality as possible.'
'That is the very lowest thing art can do, and in some cases is not
true art at all. Her business is to tell truth--never to deceive.'
'What sort of truth then?'
'What I said; spiritual and moral.'
'Ah, there it is! Now you have got back to it. Now you are talking
mystery, or--forgive me--transcendentalism.'
'No; nothing but simple and very plain fact. It is this first,--that
all truth is one; and this next,--that in the world of creation things
material are the expression of things spiritual. So all real beauty in
form or colour has back of it a greater beauty of higher degree.'
'You are talking pure mystery.'
'No, surely,' said Pitt eagerly. 'You certainly recognise the truth of
what I am saying, in some things. For instance, you cannot look up
steadily into the blue infinity of one of our American skies on a clear
day--at least _I_ cannot--without presently getting the impression of
truth, pure, unfailing, incorruptible truth, in its Creator. The rose,
everywhere in the world, so far as I know, is the accepted emblem of
love. And for another very familiar instance,--Christ is called in the
Bible the Sun of righteousness--the Light that is the life of man. Do
you know how close to fact that is? What this earth would be if
deprived of the sun for a few days, is but a true image of the
condition of any soul finally forsaken by the Sun of righteousness. In
one word, death; and that is what the Bible means by death, of which
the death we commonly speak of is again but a faint image.'
Betty fidgeted a little; this was not what she wished to speak of; it
was getting away from her point.
'Your staircase set me wondering about _you_,' she said boldly, not
answering his speech at all.
'In yet another connection?' said Pitt, smiling.
'In another connection. You remember you used to talk to me pretty
freely last summer about your new views and plans of life?'
'I remember. But my staircase?'--
'Yes, your staircase. You know it is rich and stately, as well as
beautiful. Whatever it signifies to you, to my lower vision it means a
position in the world and the means to maintain it. And I debated with
myself, as I went up the stairs, whether the owner of all this would
_still_ think it his duty to live altogether for others, and not for
himself like common people.'
She looked at him, and Pitt met her inquiring eyes with a steady,
penetrating, grave look, which half made her wish she had let the
question alone. He delayed his answer a little, and then he said,--
'Will you let me meet that doubt in my own way?'
'Certainly!' said Betty, surprised; 'if you will forgive me its
arising.'
'Is one responsible for doubts? One _may_ be responsible for the state
of mind from which they spring. Then, if you will allow me, I will say
no more on the subject for a day or two. But I will not leave you
unanswered; that is, unless you refuse to submit to my guidance, and
will not let me take my own way.'
'You are mysterious!'
'Will you go with me when I ask you?'
'Yes.'
'Then that is sufficient.'
Betty thought she had not gained much by her move.
The next day was given to the Tower. Mrs. Dallas did not go; her
husband was of the party instead. The inspection of the place was
thorough, and occupied some hours; Pitt, being able, through an old
friend of Mr. Strahan's who was now also _his_ friend, to obtain an
order from the Constable for seeing the whole. At dinner Betty
delivered herself of her opinion.
'Were you busy all day with nothing but the Tower? asked Mrs. Dallas.
'Stopped for luncheon,' said her husband.
'And we did our work thoroughly, mamma,' added Pitt. 'You must take
time, if you want to see anything.'
'Well,' said Betty, 'I must say, if this is what it means, to live in
an old country, I am thankful I live in a new one.'
'What now?' asked Mr. Dallas. 'What's the matter?'
'Mrs. Dallas was wiser, that she did not go,' Betty went on. '"I have
supped fall of horrors." Really I have read history, but that gives it
to one diluted. I had no notion that the English people were so savage.'
'Come, come! no worse than other people,' Mr. Dallas put in.
'I do not know how it is with other people. I am thankful we have no
such monument in America. I shouldn't think snow would lie on the
Tower!'
'Doesn't often,' said Pitt.
'Think, Mrs. Dallas! I stood in that little chapel there,--the
prisoners' chapel,--and beneath the pavement lay between thirty and
forty people, the remains of them, who lay there with their heads
separated from their bodies; and some of them with no heads at all. The
heads had been set up on London bridge, or on Temple Bar, or some other
dreadful place. And then as we went round I was told that here was the
spot where Lady Jane Grey was beheaded; and there was the window from
which she saw the headless body of her husband carried by; and _there_
stood the rack on which Anne Askew was tortured; and there was the
prison where Arabella Stuart died insane; and here was the axe which
used to be carried before the Lieutenant when he took a prisoner to his
trial, and was carried before the prisoner when he returned, mostly
with the sharp edge turned towards him. I do not see how people used to
live in those times. There are Anne Boleyn and her brother, Lady Jane
Grey and her husband, and other Dudleys innumerable'--
'My dear, do stop,' said Mrs. Dallas. 'I cannot eat my dinner, and you
cannot.'
'Eat dinner! Did anybody use to eat dinner, in those times? Did the
world go on as usual? with such horrors on the throne and in the
dungeon?'
'It is a great national monument,' said Mr. Dallas, 'that any people
might be proud of.'
'Proud! Well, I am glad, as I said, that the sky is blue over America.'
'The blue looks down on nothing so fine as our old Tower. And it isn't
so blue, either, if you could know all.'
'Where are you going to take us next, Pitt?' Mrs. Dallas asked, to give
things a pleasanter turn.
'How did you like St. Paul's, Miss Betty?' her husband went on, before
Pitt could speak.
'It is very black!'
'That is one of its beauties,' remarked Pitt.
'Is it? But I am accustomed to purer air. I do not like so much smoke.'
'You were interested in the monuments?' said Mrs. Dallas.
'Honestly, I am not fond of monuments. Besides, there is really a
reminiscence of the Tower and the axe there very often. I had no
conception London was such a place.'
'Let us take her to Hyde Park and show her something cheerful, Pitt.'
'I should like above all things to go to the House of Commons and hear
a debate--if it could be managed.'
Pitt said it could be managed; and it was managed; and they went to the
Park; and they drove out to see some of the beauties near London,
Richmond, Hampton Court, and Windsor; and several days passed away in
great enjoyment for the whole party. Betty forgot the Tower and grew
gay. The strangeness of her position was forgotten; the house came to
be familiar; the alternation of sight-seeing with the quiet household
life was delightful. Nothing could be better, might it last. Could it
not last? Nay, Betty would have relinquished the sight-seeing and
bargained for only the household life, if she could have retained that.