THE CASTLE.
The next day, as I passed the school-house on my way to call on the
curate, I heard such an uproar that I stopped involuntarily to listen.
I soon satisfied myself that it was only the usual water-spout
occasioned on the ocean of boyhood by the vacuum of the master. As soon
as I entered the curate's study, there stood the missing master, hat in
hand. He had not sat down, and would not, hearing all the time, no
doubt, in his soul, the far confusion of his forsaken realm. He had but
that moment entered.
"You come just in the right time, Smith," said the curate.--We had
already dropped unnecessary prefixes.--"Here is Mr. Bloomfield come to
ask us to spend a final evening with him and Mrs. Bloomfield. And in
the name of the whole company, I have taken upon me to assure him that
it will give us pleasure. Am I not right?"
"Undoubtedly," I replied. "What evening have you fixed upon, Mr.
Bloomfield?"
"This day week," he answered. "Shall I tell you why I put it off so
long?"
"If you please."
"I heard your brother, Mr. Armstrong, say that you were very fond of
parables. Now I have always had a leaning that way myself; and for
years I have had one in particular glimmering before my mental sight.
The ambition seized me, to write it out for one of our meetings, and so
submit it to your judgment; for, Mr. Armstrong, I am so delighted with
your sermons and opinions generally, that I long to let you know that I
am not only friendly, but capable of sympathizing with you. But it is
only in the rough yet, and I want to have plenty of time to act the
dutiful bear to my offspring, and lick it into thorough shape. So if
you will come this day week, Mrs. Bloomfield and I will be delighted to
entertain you in our humble fashion. But, bless me! the boys will be
all in a heap of confusion worse confounded before I get back to them.
I have no business to be away from them at this hour. Good morning,
gentlemen."
And off ran the worthy Neptune, to quell, by the vision of his
returning head, the rebellious waves of boyish impulse.
"That man will be a great comfort to you, Armstrong," I said.
"I know he will. He is a far-seeing, and what is better, a far-feeling
man."
"There is true wealth in him, it seems to me, although it may be of
narrow reach in expression," said I.
"I think so, quite. He seems to me to be one of those who have never
grown robust because they have laboured in-doors instead of going out
to work in the open air. There is a shrinking delicacy about him when
with those whom he doesn't feel to be of his own kind, which makes him
show to a disadvantage. But you should see him amongst his boys to do
him justice."
We were interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Armstrong, who came, after
their simple fashion, to tell her husband that dinner was ready. I took
my leave.
In the evening, Mrs. Bloomfield called to invite Adela and the colonel;
and the affair was settled for that day week.
"You're much better, my dear, are you not?" said the worthy woman to my
niece.
"Indeed I am, Mrs. Bloomfield. I could not have believed it possible
that I should be so much better in so short a time--and at this season
of the year too."
"Mr. Armstrong is a very clever young man, I think; though I can't say
I quite relished that extraordinary story of his."
"I suppose he is clever," replied Adela, something demurely as I
thought. "I must say I liked the story."
"Ah, well! Young people, you know, Mr. Smith--But, bless me! I'm sure I
beg your pardon. I had forgotten you weren't a married man. Of course
you're one of the young people too, Mr. Smith."
"I don't think there's much of youth to choose between you and me, Mrs.
Bloomfield," said I, "if I may venture to say so. But I fear I do
belong to the young people, if a liking for extravagant stories, so
long as they mean well, you know--is to be the test of the
classification. I fear I have a depraved taste, that way. I don't mean
in this particular instance, though, Adela."
"I hope not," answered Adela, with a blushing smile, which I, at least,
could read, having had not merely the key to it, but the open door and
window as well, ever since I had seen the two standing together at the
top of the stair.
That night the weather broke. A slow thaw set in; and before many days
were over, islands of green began to appear amid the "wan water" of the
snow--to use a phrase common in Scotch ballads, though with a different
application. The graves in the churchyard lifted up their green altars
of earth, as the first whereon to return thanks for the prophecy of
spring; which, surely, if it has force and truth anywhere, speaks
loudest to us in the churchyard. And on Sunday the sun broke out and
shone on the green hillocks, just as good old Mr. Venables was reading
the words, "I will not leave you comfortless--I will come to you."
And the ice vanished from the river, and the dark stream flowed,
somewhat sullen, but yet glad at heart, on through the low meadows
bordered with pollards, which, poor things, maltreated and mutilated,
yet did the best they could, and went on growing wildly in all insane
shapes--pitifully mingling formality and grotesqueness.
And the next day the hounds met at Castle Irksham. And that day Colonel
Cathcart would ride with them.
For the good man had gathered spirit just as the light grew upon his
daughter's face. And he was merry like a boy now that the first breath
of spring--for so it seemed, although no doubt plenty of wintriness
remained and would yet show itself--had loosened the hard hold of the
frost, which is the death of Nature. The frost is hard upon old people;
and the spring is so much the more genial and blessed in its sweet
influences on them. Do we grow old that, in our weakness and loss of
physical self-assertion, we may learn the benignities of the
universe--only to be learned first through the feeling of their
want?--I do not envy the man who laughs the east wind to scorn. He can
never know the balmy power of its sister of the west, which is the
breath of the Lord, the symbol of the one _genial_ strength at the root
of all life, resurrection, and growth--commonly called the Spirit of
God.--Who has not seen, as the infirmities of age grow upon old men,
the haughty, self-reliant spirit that had neglected, if not despised
the gentle ministrations of love, grow as it were a little scared, and
begin to look about for some kindness; begin to return the warm
pressure of the hand, and to submit to be waited upon by the anxiety of
love? Not in weakness alone comes the second childhood upon men, but
often in childlikeness; for in old age as in nature, to quote the song
of the curate,
Old Autumn's fingers
Paint in hues of Spring.
The necessities of the old man prefigure and forerun the dawn of the
immortal childhood. For is not our necessity towards God our highest
blessedness--the fair cloud that hangs over the summit of existence?
Thank God, he has made his children so noble and high that they cannot
do without Him! I believe we are sent into this world just to find this
out.
But to leave my reflections and return to my story--such as it is. The
colonel mounted me on an old horse of his, "whom," to quote from Sir
Philip Sidney's _Arcadia_, "though he was near twenty years old, he
preferred for a piece of sure service, before a great number of
younger." Now the piece of sure service, in the present instance, was
to take care of old John Smith, who was only a middling horseman,
though his friend, the colonel, would say that he rode pretty well for
a lad. The old horse, in fact, knew not only what he could do, but what
I could do, for our powers were about equal. He looked well about for
the gaps and the narrow places. From weakness in his forelegs, he had
become a capital buck-jumper, as I think Cathcart called him, always
alighting over a hedge on his hind legs, instead of his fore ones,
which was as much easier for John Smith as for Hop o' my Thumb--that
was the name of the old horse, he being sixteen hands, at least. But I
beg my reader's pardon for troubling him with all this about my horse,
for, assuredly, neither he nor I will perform any deed of prowess in
his presence. But I have the weakness of garrulity in regard to a
predilection from the indulgence of which circumstances have debarred
me.
At nine o'clock my friend and I started upon hacks for the meet. Now, I
am not going to describe the "harrow and weal away!" with which the
soul of poor Reynard is hunted out of the world--if, indeed, such a
clever wretch can have a soul. I daresay--I hope, at least, that the
argument of the fox-hunter is analogically just, who, being
expostulated with on the cruelty of fox-hunting, replied--"Well, you
know, the hounds like it; and the horses like it; and there's no doubt
the men like it--and who knows whether the fox doesn't like it too?"
But I would not have introduced the subject except for the sake of what
my reader will find in the course of a page or two, and which assuredly
is not fox-hunting.
We soon found. But just before, a sudden heavy noise, coming apparently
from a considerable distance, made one or two of the company say, with
passing curiosity: "What is that?" It was instantly forgotten, however,
as soon as the fox broke cover. He pointed towards Purley-bridge. We
had followed for some distance, circumstances permitting Hop o' my
Thumb to keep in the wake of his master, when the colonel, drawing
rein, allowed me--I ought to say _us_, for the old horse had quite as
much voice in the matter as I had--to come up with him.
"The cunning old dog!" said he. "He has run straight for the deepest
cutting in the railway. They'll all be pounded presently! They don't
know this part so well as I do. I know every field and gate in it. I
used to go larking over it all when I was only a cub myself. Confound
it! I'm not up to much to-day. I suppose I'm getting old, you know; or
I'd strike off here at right angles to the left, and make for the
bridge at Crumple's Corner. I should lose the hounds though, I fear. I
wonder what his lordship will do."
All the time my old friend was talking, we were following the rest of
the field, whom, sure enough, as soon as we got into the next
inclosure, we saw drawing up one after another on the top of the
railway cutting, which ran like the river of death between them and the
fox-hunter's paradise. But at the moment we entered this field, whom
should we see approaching us at right angles, from the direction of
Purleybridge, but Harry Armstrong, mounted on _the_ mare! I rode
towards him.
"Trapped, you see," said I. "Are you after the fox--or some nobler
game?"
"I was going my rounds," answered Harry, "when I caught sight of the
hounds. I have no very pressing case to day, so I turned a few yards
out of the road to see a bit of the sport. Confound these railways!"
At the moment--and all this passed, as the story-teller is so often
compelled to remind his reader, in far less time than it takes to
tell--over the hedge on the opposite side from where Harry had entered
the field, blundered a country fellow, on a great, heavy, but spirited
horse, and ploughed his way up the soft furrow to where we stood.
"Doctor!" he cried, half-breathless with haste and exertion--"Doctor!"
"Well?" answered Henry, alert.
"There's a awful accident at Grubblebon Quarry, sir. Powder blowed up.
Legs and arms! Good God! sir, make haste."
"Well," said Harry, whose compressed lips alone gave sign of his being
ready for action, "ride to the town, and tell my housekeeper to give
you bandages and wadding and oil, and splints, and whatever she knows
to be needful. Are there many hurt?"
"Half a dozen alive, sir."
"Then you'd better let the other doctors know as well. And just tell my
man to saddle Jilter and take him to by brother, the curate. He had
better come out at once. Ride now."
"I _will_, sir," said the man, and was over the hedge in another minute.
But not before Harry was over the railway. For he rode gently towards
it, as if nothing particular was to be done, and chose as the best spot
one close to where several of the gentlemen stood, disputing for a
moment as to which was the best way to get across. Now on the top of
the cutting there was a rail, and between the rail and the edge of the
cutting a space of about four feet. Harry trotted his mare gently up to
the rail, and went over. Nor was the mutual confidence of mare and
master misplaced from either side. She lighted and stood stock still
within a foot of the slope, so powerful was she to stop herself. An
uproar of cries arose among the men. I heard the old soldier's voice
above them all.
"Damn you, Armstrong, you fool!" he cried; "you'll break your neck, and
serve you right too!"
I don't know a stronger proof that the classical hell has little hold
on the faith of the Saxons, than that good-hearted and true men will
not unfrequently damn their friends when they are most anxious to save
them. But before the words were half out of the colonel's mouth, Harry
was half-way down the cutting. He had gone straight at it like a cat,
and it was of course the only way. I had galloped to the edge after
him, and now saw him, or rather her, descending by a succession of
rebounds--not bounds--a succession, in fact, of short falls upon the
fore-legs, while Harry's head was nearly touching her rump. Arrived at
the bottom, she gave two bounds across the rails, and the same moment
was straining right up the opposite bank in a fierce agony of effort,
Harry hanging upon her neck. Now the mighty play of her magnificent
hind quarters came into operation. I could see, plainly enough across
the gulf, the alternate knotting and loosening of the thick muscles as,
step by step, she tore her way up the grassy slope. It was a terrible
trial of muscle and wind, and very few horses could have stood it. As
she neared the top, her pace grew slower and slower, and the exertion
more and more severe. If she had given in, she would have rolled to the
bottom, but nothing was less in her thoughts. Her master never spurred
or urged her, except it may have been by whispering in her ear, to
which his mouth was near enough: he knew she needed no excitement to
that effort. At length the final heave of her rump, as it came up to a
level with her withers, told the breathless spectators that the attempt
was a success, when a loud "Hurrah for the doctor and his mare!" burst
from their lips. The doctor, however, only waved his hand in
acknowledgment, for he had all to do yet. Fortunately there was space
enough between the edge and the fence on that side to allow of his
giving his mare a quarter of a circle of a gallop before bringing her
up to the rail, else in her fatigue she might have failed to top it.
Over she went and away, with her tail streaming out behind her, as if
she had done nothing worth thinking about, once it was done. One more
cheer for the doctor--but no one dared to follow him. They scattered in
different directions to find a less perilous crossing. I stuck by my
leader.
"By Jove! Cathcart," said Lord Irksham, as they parted, "that doctor of
yours is a hero. He ought to have been bred a soldier."
"He's better employed, my lord," bawled the old colonel; for they were
now a good many yards asunder, making for different points in the
hedge. From this answer, I hoped well for the doctor. At all events,
the colonel admired his manliness more than ever, and that was a great
thing. For me, I could hardly keep down the expression of an excitement
which I did not wish to show. It was a great relief to me when the
_hurrah!_ arose, and I could let myself off in that way. I told you,
kind reader, I was only an old boy. But, as the Arabs always give God
thanks when they see a beautiful woman, and quite right too! so, in my
heart, I praised God who had made a mare with such muscles, and a man
with such a heart. And I said to myself, "A fine muscle is a fine
thing; but the finest muscle of all, keeping the others going too, is
the heart itself. That is the true Christian muscle. And the real
muscular Christianity is that which pours in a life-giving torrent from
the devotion of the heart, receiving only that it may give."
But I fancy I hear my reader saying,
"Mr. Smith, you've forgotten the fox. What a sportsman you make!"
Well, I had forgotten the fox. But then we didn't kill him or find
another that day. So you won't care for the rest of the run.
I was tired enough by the time we got back to Purleybridge. I went
early to bed.
The next morning, the colonel, the moment we met at the breakfast
table, said to me,
"You did not hear, Smith, what that young rascal of a doctor said to
Lord Irksham last night?"
"No, what was it?"
"It seems they met again towards evening, and his lordship said to him:
'You hare-brained young devil!'--you know his lordship's rough way,"
interposed the colonel, forgetting how roundly he had sworn at Harry
himself, "'by the time you're my age, you'll be more careful of the few
brains you'll have left.' To which expostulated Master Harry replied:
'If your lordship had been my age, and would have done it yourself to
kill a fox: when I am your lordship's age, I hope I shall have the
grace left to do as much to save a man.' Whereupon his lordship
rejoined, holding out his hand, 'By Jove! sir, you are an honour to
your profession. Come and dine with me on Monday.' And what do you
think the idiot did?--Backed out of it, and wouldn't go, because he
thought his lordship condescending, and he didn't want his patronage.
But his lordship's not a bit like that, you know."
"Then if he isn't, he'll like Harry all the better for declining, and
will probably send him a proper invitation."
And sure enough, I was right; and Harry did dine at Castle Irksham on
Monday.
Adela's eyes showed clearly enough that her ears were devouring every
word we had said; and the glow on her face could not be mistaken by me
at least, though to another it might well appear only the sign of such
an enthusiasm as one would like every girl to feel in the presence of
noble conduct of any kind. She had heard the whole story last night you
may be sure; and I do not doubt that the unrestrained admiration shown
by her father for the doctor's conduct, was a light in her heart which
sleep itself could not extinguish, and which went shining on in her
dreams. Admiration of the beloved is dear to a woman. You see I like to
show that although I _am_ an old bachelor, I know something about
_them_.
I met Harry that morning; that is, I contrived to meet him.
"Well, how are you to-day, Harry?" I said.
"All right, thank you."
"Were there many hurt at the quarry?"
"Oh! it wasn't so very bad, I'm happy to say."
"You did splendidly yesterday."
"Oh, nonsense! It was my mare. It wasn't me. I had nothing to do with
it."
"Well! well! you have my full permission to say so, and to think so,
too."
"Well! well! say no more about it."
So it was long before the subject was again alluded to by me. But it
will be long, too, before it is forgotten in that county.
And so the evening came when we were to meet--for the last time as the
Story-telling club--at the schoolmaster's house. It was now past the
time I had set myself for returning to London, and although my plans
were never of a very unalterable complexion, seeing I had the faculty
of being able to write wherever I was, and never admitted chairs and
tables, and certain rows of bookshelves, to form part of my mental
organism, without which the rest of the mechanism would be thrown out
of gear, I had yet reasons for wishing to be in London; and I intended
to take my departure on the day but one after the final meeting.--I may
just remark, that before this time one or two families had returned to
Purleybridge, and others were free from their Christmas engagements,
who would have been much pleased to join our club; but, considering its
ephemeral nature, and seeing it had been formed only for what we hoped
was a passing necessity, we felt that the introduction of new blood,
although essential for the long life of anything constituted for long
life, would only hasten the decay of its butterfly constitution. So we
had kept our meetings entirely to ourselves.
We all arrived about the same time, and found our host and hostess full
of quiet cordiality, to which their homeliness lent an additional
charm. The relation of host and guest is weakened by every addition to
a company, and in a large assembly all but disappears. Indeed, the
tendency of the present age is to blot from the story of every-day life
all reminders of the ordinary human relations, as commonplace and
insignificant, and to mingle all society in one concourse of atoms, in
which the only distinctions shall be those of _rank_; whereas the sole
power to keep social intercourse from growing stale is the recognition
of the immortal and true in all the simple human relations. Then we
look upon all men with reverence, and find ourselves safe and at home
in the midst of divine intents, which may be violated and striven with,
but can never be escaped, because the will of God is the very life and
well-being of his creatures.
Mrs. Bloomfield looked very nice in her black silk dress, and collar
and cuffs of old lace, as she presided at the tea-table, and made us
all feel that it was a pleasure to her to serve us.
After repeated apologies, and confessions of failure, our host then
read the following _parable_, as he called it, though I daresay it
would be more correct to call it an _allegory_. But as that word has so
many wearisome associations, I, too, intend, whether right or wrong, to
call it a parable. So, then, it shall be:
"THE CASTLE: A PARABLE.
"On the top of a high cliff, forming part of the base of a great
mountain, stood a lofty castle. When or how it was built, no man knew;
nor could any one pretend to understand its architecture. Every one who
looked upon it felt that it was lordly and noble; and where one part
seemed not to agree with another, the wise and modest dared not to call
them incongruous, but presumed that the whole might be constructed on
some higher principle of architecture than they yet understood. What
helped them to this conclusion was, that no one had ever seen the whole
of the edifice; that, even of the portion best known, some part or
other was always wrapped in thick folds of mist from the mountain; and
that, when the sun shone upon this mist, the parts of the building that
appeared through the vaporous veil were strangely glorified in their
indistinctness, so that they seemed to belong to some aerial abode in
the land of the sunset; and the beholders could hardly tell whether
they had ever seen them before, or whether they were now for the first
time partially revealed.
"Nor, although it was inhabited, could certain information be procured
as to its internal construction. Those who dwelt in it often discovered
rooms they had never entered before--yea, once or twice,--whole suites
of apartments, of which only dim legends had been handed down from
former times. Some of them expected to find, one day, secret places,
filled with treasures of wondrous jewels; amongst which they hoped to
light upon Solomon's ring, which had for ages disappeared from the
earth, but which had controlled the spirits, and the possession of
which made a man simply what a man should be, the king of the world.
Now and then, a narrow, winding stair, hitherto untrodden, would bring
them forth on a new turret, whence new prospects of the circumjacent
country were spread out before them. How many more of these there might
be, or how much loftier, no one could tell. Nor could the foundations
of the castle in the rock on which it was built be determined with the
smallest approach to precision. Those of the family who had given
themselves to exploring in that direction, found such a labyrinth of
vaults and passages, and endless successions of down-going stairs, out
of one underground space into a yet lower, that they came to the
conclusion that at least the whole mountain was perforated and
honeycombed in this fashion. They had a dim consciousness, too, of the
presence, in those awful regions, of beings whom they could not
comprehend. Once they came upon the brink of a great black gulf, in
which the eye could see nothing but darkness: they recoiled with
horror; for the conviction flashed upon them that that gulf went down
into the very central spaces of the earth, of which they had hitherto
been wandering only in the upper crust; nay, that the seething
blackness before them had relations mysterious, and beyond human
comprehension, with the far-off voids of space, into which the stars
dare not enter.
"At the foot of the cliff whereon the castle stood, lay a deep lake,
inaccessible save by a few avenues, being surrounded on all sides with
precipices which made the water look very black, although it was pure
as the night-sky. From a door in the castle, which was not to be
otherwise entered, a broad flight of steps, cut in the rock, went down
to the lake, and disappeared below its surface. Some thought the steps
went to the very bottom of the water.
"Now in this castle there dwelt a large family of brothers and sisters.
They had never seen their father or mother. The younger had been
educated by the elder, and these by an unseen care and ministration,
about the sources of which they had, somehow or other, troubled
themselves very little--for what people are accustomed to, they regard
as coming from nobody; as if help and progress and joy and love were
the natural crops of Chaos or old Night. But Tradition said that one
day--it was utterly uncertain _when_--their father would come, and
leave them no more; for he was still alive, though where he lived
nobody knew. In the meantime all the rest had to obey their eldest
brother, and listen to his counsels.
"But almost all the family was very fond of liberty, as they called it;
and liked to run up and down, hither and thither, roving about, with
neither law nor order, just as they pleased. So they could not endure
their brother's tyranny, as they called it. At one time they said that
he was only one of themselves, and therefore they would not obey him;
at another, that he was not like them, and could not understand them,
and _therefore_ they would not obey him. Yet, sometimes, when he came
and looked them full in the face, they were terrified, and dared not
disobey, for he was stately and stern and strong. Not one of them loved
him heartily, except the eldest sister, who was very beautiful and
silent, and whose eyes shone as if light lay somewhere deep behind
them. Even she, although she loved him, thought him very hard
sometimes; for when he had once said a thing plainly, he could not be
persuaded to think it over again. So even she forgot him sometimes, and
went her own ways, and enjoyed herself without him. Most of them
regarded him as a sort of watchman, whose business it was to keep them
in order; and so they were indignant and disliked him. Yet they all had
a secret feeling that they ought to be subject to him; and after any
particular act of disregard, none of them could think, with any peace,
of the old story about the return of their father to his house. But
indeed they never thought much about it, or about their father at all;
for how could those who cared so little for their brother, whom they
saw every day, care for their father whom they had never seen?--One
chief cause of complaint against him was that he interfered with their
favourite studies and pursuits; whereas he only sought to make them
give up trifling with earnest things, and seek for truth, and not for
amusement, from the many wonders around them. He did not want them to
turn to other studies, or to eschew pleasures; but, in those studies,
to seek the highest things most, and other things in proportion to
their true worth and nobleness. This could not fail to be distasteful
to those who did not care for what was higher than they. And so matters
went on for a time. They thought they could do better without their
brother; and their brother knew they could not do at all without him,
and tried to fulfil the charge committed into his hands.
"At length, one day, for the thought seemed to strike them
simultaneously, they conferred together about giving a great
entertainment in their grandest rooms to any of their neighbours who
chose to come, or indeed to any inhabitants of the earth or air who
would visit them. They were too proud to reflect that some company
might defile even the dwellers in what was undoubtedly the finest
palace on the face of the earth. But what made the thing worse, was,
that the old tradition said that these rooms were to be kept entirely
for the use of the owner of the castle. And, indeed, whenever they
entered them, such was the effect of their loftiness and grandeur upon
their minds, that they always thought of the old story, and could not
help believing it. Nor would the brother permit them to forget it now;
but, appearing suddenly amongst them, when they had no expectation of
being interrupted by him, he rebuked them, both for the indiscriminate
nature of their invitation, and for the intention of introducing any
one, not to speak of some who would doubtless make their appearance on
the evening in question, into the rooms kept sacred for the use of the
unknown father. But by this time their talk with each other had so
excited their expectations of enjoyment, which had previously been
strong enough, that anger sprung up within them at the thought of being
deprived of their hopes, and they looked each other in the eyes; and
the look said: 'We are many and he is one--let us get rid of him, for
he is always finding fault, and thwarting us in the most innocent
pleasures;--as if we would wish to do anything wrong!' So without a
word spoken, they rushed upon him; and although he was stronger than
any of them, and struggled hard at first, yet they overcame him at
last. Indeed some of them thought he yielded to their violence long
before they had the mastery of him; and this very submission terrified
the more tender-hearted amongst them. However, they bound him; carried
him down many stairs, and, having remembered an iron staple in the wall
of a certain vault, with a thick rusty chain attached to it, they bore
him thither, and made the chain fast around him. There they left him,
shutting the great gnarring brazen door of the vault, as they departed
for the upper regions of the castle.
"Now all was in a tumult of preparation. Every one was talking of the
coming festivity; but no one spoke of the deed they had done. A sudden
paleness overspread the face, now of one, and now of another; but it
passed away, and no one took any notice of it; they only plied the task
of the moment the more energetically. Messengers were sent far and
near, not to individuals or families, but publishing in all places of
concourse a general invitation to any who chose to come on a certain
day, and partake for certain succeeding days of the hospitality of the
dwellers in the castle. Many were the preparations immediately begun
for complying with the invitation. But the noblest of their neighbours
refused to appear; not from pride, but because of the unsuitableness
and carelessness of such a mode. With some of them it was an old
condition in the tenure of their estates, that they should go to no
one's dwelling except visited in person, and expressly solicited.
Others, knowing what sort of persons would be there, and that, from a
certain physical antipathy, they could scarcely breathe in their
company, made up their minds at once not to go. Yet multitudes, many of
them beautiful and innocent as well as gay, resolved to appear.
"Meanwhile the great rooms of the castle were got in readiness--that
is, they proceeded to deface them with decorations; for there was a
solemnity and stateliness about them in their ordinary condition, which
was at once felt to be unsuitable for the light-hearted company so soon
to move about in them with the self-same carelessness with which men
walk abroad within the great heavens and hills and clouds. One day,
while the workmen were busy, the eldest sister, of whom I have already
spoken, happened to enter, she knew not why. Suddenly the great idea of
the mighty halls dawned upon her, and filled her soul. The so-called
decorations vanished from her view, and she felt as if she stood in her
father's presence. She was at one elevated and humbled. As suddenly the
idea faded and fled, and she beheld but the gaudy festoons and
draperies and paintings which disfigured the grandeur. She wept and
sped away. Now it was too late to interfere, and things must take their
course. She would have been but a Cassandra-prophetess to those who saw
but the pleasure before them. She had not been present when her brother
was imprisoned; and indeed for some days had been so wrapt in her own
business, that she had taken but little heed of anything that was going
on. But they all expected her to show herself when the company was
gathered; and they had applied to her for advice at various times
during their operations.
"At length the expected hour arrived, and the company began to
assemble. It was a warm summer evening. The dark lake reflected the
rose-coloured clouds in the west, and through the flush rowed many
gaily painted boats, with various coloured flags, towards the massy
rock on which the castle stood. The trees and flowers seemed already
asleep, and breathing forth their sweet dream-breath. Laughter and low
voices rose from the breast of the lake to the ears of the youths and
maidens looking forth expectant from the lofty windows. They went down
to the broad platform at the top of the stairs in front of the door to
receive their visitors. By degrees the festivities of the evening
commenced. The same smiles flew forth both at eyes and lips, darting
like beams through the gathering crowd. Music, from unseen sources, now
rolled in billows, now crept in ripples through the sea of air that
filled the lofty rooms. And in the dancing halls, when hand took hand,
and form and motion were moulded and swayed by the indwelling music, it
governed not these alone, but, as the ruling spirit of the place, every
new burst of music for a new dance swept before it a new and accordant
odour, and dyed the flames that glowed in the lofty lamps with a new
and accordant stain. The floors bent beneath the feet of the
time-keeping dancers. But twice in the evening some of the inmates
started, and the pallor occasionally common to the household overspread
their faces, for they felt underneath them a counter-motion to the
dance, as if the floor rose slightly to answer their feet. And all the
time their brother lay below in the dungeon, like John the Baptist in
the castle of Herod, when the lords and captains sat around, and the
daughter of Herodias danced before them. Outside, all around the
castle, brooded the dark night unheeded; for the clouds had come up
from all sides, and were crowding together overhead. In the unfrequent
pauses of the music, they might have heard, now and then, the gusty
rush of a lonely wind, coming and going no one could know whence or
whither, born and dying unexpected and unregarded.
"But when the festivities were at their height, when the external and
passing confidence which is produced between superficial natures by a
common pleasure was at the full, a sudden crash of thunder quelled the
music, as the thunder quells the noise of the uplifted sea. The windows
were driven in, and torrents of rain, carried in the folds of a rushing
wind, poured into the halls. The lights were swept away; and the great
rooms, now dark within, were darkened yet more by the dazzling shoots
of flame from the vault of blackness overhead. Those that ventured to
look out of the windows saw, in the blue brilliancy of the
quick-following jets of lightning, the lake at the foot of the rock,
ordinarily so still and so dark, lighted up, not on the surface only,
but down to half its depth; so that, as it tossed in the wind, like a
tortured sea of writhing flames, or incandescent half-molten serpents
of brass, they could not tell whether a strong phosphorescence did not
issue from the transparent body of the waters, as if earth and sky
lightened together, one consenting source of flaming utterance.
"Sad was the condition of the late plastic mass of living form that had
flowed into shape at the will and law of the music. Broken into
individuals, the common transfusing spirit withdrawn, they stood
drenched, cold, and benumbed, with clinging garments; light, order,
harmony, purpose departed, and chaos restored; the issuings of life
turned back on their sources, chilly and dead. And in every heart
reigned the falsest of despairing convictions, that this was the only
reality, and that was but a dream. The eldest sister stood with clasped
hands and down-bent head, shivering and speechless, as if waiting for
something to follow. Nor did she wait long. A terrible flash and
thunder-peal made the castle rock; and in the pausing silence that
followed, her quick sense heard the rattling of a chain far off, deep
down; and soon the sound of heavy footsteps, accompanied with the
clanking of iron, reached her ear. She felt that her brother was at
hand. Even in the darkness, and amidst the bellowing of another
deep-bosomed cloud-monster, she knew that he had entered the room. A
moment after, a continuous pulsation of angry blue light began, which,
lasting for some moments, revealed him standing amidst them, gaunt,
haggard, and motionless; his hair and beard untrimmed, his face
ghastly, his eyes large and hollow. The light seemed to gather around
him as a centre. Indeed some believed that it throbbed and radiated
from his person, and not from the stormy heavens above them. The
lightning had rent the wall of his prison, and released the iron staple
of his chain, which he had wound about him like a girdle. In his hand
he carried an iron fetter-bar, which he had found on the floor of the
vault. More terrified at his aspect than at all the violence of the
storm, the visitors, with many a shriek and cry, rushed out into the
tempestuous night. By degrees, the storm died away. Its last flash
revealed the forms of the brothers and sisters lying prostrate, with
their faces on the floor, and that fearful shape standing motionless
amidst them still.
"Morning dawned, and there they lay, and there he stood. But at a word
from him, they arose and went about their various duties, though
listlessly enough. The eldest sister was the last to rise; and when she
did, it was only by a terrible effort that she was able to reach her
room, where she fell again on the floor. There she remained lying for
days. The brother caused the doors of the great suite of rooms to be
closed, leaving them just as they were, with all the childish adornment
scattered about, and the rain still falling in through the shattered
windows. 'Thus let them lie,' said he, 'till the rain and frost have
cleansed them of paint and drapery: no storm can hurt the pillars and
arches of these halls.'
"The hours of this day went heavily. The storm was gone, but the rain
was left; the passion had departed, but the tears remained behind. Dull
and dark the low misty clouds brooded over the castle and the lake, and
shut out all the neighbourhood. Even if they had climbed to the
loftiest known turret, they would have found it swathed in a garment of
clinging vapour, affording no refreshment to the eye, and no hope to
the heart. There was one lofty tower that rose sheer a hundred feet
above the rest, and from which the fog could have been seen lying in a
grey mass beneath; but that tower they had not yet discovered, nor
another close beside it, the top of which was never seen, nor could be,
for the highest clouds of heaven clustered continually around it. The
rain fell continuously, though not heavily, without; and within, too,
there were clouds from which dropped the tears which are the rain of
the spirit. All the good of life seemed for the time departed, and
their souls lived but as leafless trees that had forgotten the joy of
the summer, and whom no wind prophetic of spring had yet visited. They
moved about mechanically, and had not strength enough left to wish to
die.
"The next day the clouds were higher, and a little wind blew through
such loopholes in the turrets as the false improvements of the inmates
had not yet filled with glass, shutting out, as the storm, so the
serene visitings of the heavens. Throughout the day, the brother took
various opportunities of addressing a gentle command, now to one and
now to another of his family. It was obeyed in silence. The wind blew
fresher through the loopholes and the shattered windows of the great
rooms, and found its way, by unknown passages, to faces and eyes hot
with weeping. It cooled and blessed them.--When the sun arose the next
day, it was in a clear sky.
"By degrees, everything fell into the regularity of subordination. With
the subordination came increase of freedom. The steps of the more
youthful of the family were heard on the stairs and in the corridors
more light and quick than ever before. Their brother had lost the
terrors of aspect produced by his confinement, and his commands were
issued more gently, and oftener with a smile, than in all their
previous history. By degrees his presence was universally felt through
the house. It was no surprise to any one at his studies, to see him by
his side when he lifted up his eyes, though he had not before known
that he was in the room. And although some dread still remained, it was
rapidly vanishing before the advances of a firm friendship. Without
immediately ordering their labours, he always influenced them, and
often altered their direction and objects. The change soon evident in
the household was remarkable. A simpler, nobler expression was visible
on all the countenances. The voices of the men were deeper, and yet
seemed by their very depth more feminine than before; while the voices
of the women were softer and sweeter, and at the same time more full
and decided. Now the eyes had often an expression as if their sight was
absorbed in the gaze of the inward eyes; and when the eyes of two met,
there passed between those eyes the utterance of a conviction that both
meant the same thing. But the change was, of course, to be seen more
clearly, though not more evidently, in individuals.
"One of the brothers, for instance, was very fond of astronomy. He had
his observatory on a lofty tower, which stood pretty clear of the
others, towards the north and east. But hitherto, his astronomy, as he
had called it, had been more of the character of astrology. Often, too,
he might have been seen directing a heaven-searching telescope to catch
the rapid transit of a fiery shooting-star, belonging altogether to the
earthly atmosphere, and not to the serene heavens. He had to learn that
the signs of the air are not the signs of the skies. Nay, once, his
brother surprised him in the act of examining through his longest tube
a patch of burning heath upon a distant hill. But now he was diligent
from morning till night in the study of the laws of the truth that has
to do with stars; and when the curtain of the sunlight was about to
rise from before the heavenly worlds which it had hidden all day long,
he might be seen preparing his instruments with that solemn countenance
with which it becometh one to look into the mysterious harmonies of
Nature. Now he learned what law and order and truth are, what consent
and harmony mean; how the individual may find his own end in a higher
end, where law and freedom mean the same thing, and the purest
certainty exists without the slightest constraint. Thus he stood on the
earth, and looked to the heavens.
"Another, who had been much given to searching out the hollow places
and recesses in the foundations of the castle, and who was often to be
found with compass and ruler working away at a chart of the same which
he had been in process of constructing, now came to the conclusion,
that only by ascending the upper regions of his abode could he become
capable of understanding what lay beneath; and that, in all
probability, one clear prospect, from the top of the highest attainable
turret, over the castle as it lay below, would reveal more of the idea
of its internal construction, than a year spent in wandering through
its subterranean vaults. But the fact was, that the desire to ascend
wakening within him had made him forget what was beneath; and having
laid aside his chart for a time at least, he was now to be met in every
quarter of the upper parts, searching and striving upward, now in one
direction, now in another; and seeking, as he went, the best outlooks
into the clear air of outer realities.
"And they began to discover that they were all meditating different
aspects of the same thing; and they brought together their various
discoveries, and recognized the likeness between them; and the one
thing often explained the other, and combining with it helped to a
third. They grew in consequence more and more friendly and loving; so
that every now and then one turned to another and said, as in surprise,
'Why, you are my brother!'--'Why, you are my sister!' And yet they had
always known it.
"The change reached to all. One, who lived on the air of sweet sounds,
and who was almost always to be found seated by her harp or some other
instrument, had, till the late storm, been generally merry and playful,
though sometimes sad. But for a long time after that, she was often
found weeping, and playing little simple airs which she had heard in
childhood--backward longings, followed by fresh tears. Before long,
however, a new element manifested itself in her music. It became yet
more wild, and sometimes retained all its sadness, but it was mingled
with anticipation and hope. The past and the future merged in one; and
while memory yet brought the rain-cloud, expectation threw the rainbow
across its bosom--and all was uttered in her music, which rose and
swelled, now to defiance, now to victory; then died in a torrent of
weeping.
"As to the eldest sister, it was many days before she recovered from
the shock. At length, one day, her brother came to her, took her by the
hand, led her to an open window, and told her to seat herself by it,
and look out. She did so; but at first saw nothing more than an
unsympathizing blaze of sunlight. But as she looked, the horizon
widened out, and the dome of the sky ascended, till the grandeur seized
upon her soul, and she fell on her knees and wept. Now the heavens
seemed to bend lovingly over her, and to stretch out wide cloud-arms to
embrace her; the earth lay like the bosom of an infinite love beneath
her, and the wind kissed her cheek with an odour of roses. She sprang
to her feet, and turned, in an agony of hope, expecting to behold the
face of the father, but there stood only her brother, looking calmly
though lovingly on her emotion. She turned again to the window. On the
hilltops rested the sky: Heaven and Earth were one; and the prophecy
awoke in her soul, that from betwixt them would the steps of the father
approach.
"Hitherto she had seen but Beauty; now she beheld Truth. Often had she
looked on such clouds as these, and loved the strange ethereal curves
into which the winds moulded them; and had smiled as her little pet
sister told her what curious animals she saw in them, and tried to
point them out to her. Now they were as troops of angels, jubilant over
her new birth, for they sang, in her soul, of beauty, and truth, and
love. She looked down, and her little sister knelt beside her.
"She was a curious child, with black, glittering eyes, and dark hair;
at the mercy of every wandering wind; a frolicsome, daring girl, who
laughed more than she smiled. She was generally in attendance on her
sister, and was always finding and bringing her strange things. She
never pulled a primrose, but she knew the haunts of all the orchis
tribe, and brought from them bees and butterflies innumerable, as
offerings to her sister. Curious moths and glow-worms were her greatest
delight; and she loved the stars, because they were like the
glow-worms. But the change had affected her too; for her sister saw
that her eyes had lost their glittering look, and had become more
liquid and transparent. And from that time she often observed that her
gaiety was more gentle, her smile more frequent, her laugh less
bell-like; and although she was as wild as ever, there was more
elegance in her motions, and more music in her voice. And she clung to
her sister with far greater fondness than before.
"The land reposed in the embrace of the warm summer days. The clouds of
heaven nestled around the towers of the castle; and the hearts of its
inmates became conscious of a warm atmosphere--of a presence of love.
They began to feel like the children of a household, when the mother is
at home. Their faces and forms grew daily more and more beautiful, till
they wondered as they gazed on each other. As they walked in the
gardens of the castle, or in the country around, they were often
visited, especially the eldest sister, by sounds that no one heard but
themselves, issuing from woods and waters; and by forms of love that
lightened out of flowers, and grass, and great rocks. Now and then the
young children would come in with a slow, stately step, and, with great
eyes that looked as if they would devour all the creation, say that
they had met the father amongst the trees, and that he had kissed them;
'And,' added one of them once, 'I grew so big!' But when the others
went out to look, they could see no one. And some said it must have
been the brother, who grew more and more beautiful, and loving, and
reverend, and who had lost all traces of hardness, so that they
wondered they could ever have thought him stern and harsh. But the
eldest sister held her peace, and looked up, and her eyes filled with
tears. 'Who can tell,' thought she, 'but the little children know more
about it than we?'
"Often, at sunrise, might be heard their hymn of praise to their unseen
father, whom they felt to be near, though they saw him not. Some words
thereof once reached my ear through the folds of the music in which
they floated, as in an upward snowstorm of sweet sounds. And these are
some of the words I heard--but there was much I seemed to hear which I
could not understand, and some things which I understood but cannot
utter again.
"'We thank thee that we have a father, and not a maker; that thou hast
begotten us, and not moulded us as images of clay; that we have come
forth of thy heart, and have not been fashioned by thy hands. It _must_
be so. Only the heart of a father is able to create. We rejoice in it,
and bless thee that we know it. We thank thee for thyself. Be what thou
art--our root and life, our beginning and end, our all in all. Come
home to us. Thou livest; therefore we live. In thy light we see. Thou
art--that is all our song.'
"Thus they worship, and love, and wait. Their hope and expectation grow
ever stronger and brighter, that one day, ere long, the Father will
show Himself amongst them, and thenceforth dwell in His own house for
evermore. What was once but an old legend has become the one desire of
their hearts.
"And the loftiest hope is the surest of being fulfilled."
* * * * *
"Thank you, heartily," said the curate. "I will choose another time to
tell you how much I have enjoyed your parable, which is altogether to
my mind, and far beyond anything I could do."
Mr. Bloomfield returned no answer, but his countenance showed that he
was far from hearing this praise unmoved. The faces of the rest showed
that they too had listened with pleasure; and Adela's face shone as if
she had received more than delight--hope, namely, and onward impulse.
The colonel alone--I forgot to say that Mrs. Cathcart had a headache,
and did not come--seemed to have been left behind.
"I am a stupid old fellow, I believe," said he; "but to tell the truth,
I did not know what to make of it. It seemed all the time to be telling
me in one breath something I knew and something I didn't and couldn't
know. I wish I could express what I mean, but it puzzled me too much
for that; although every now and then it sounded very beautiful indeed."
"I will try and tell you what it said to me, sometime, papa," said
Adela.
"Thank you, my child; I should much like to understand it. I believe I
have done my duty by my king and country, but a man has to learn a good
deal after all that is over and done with; and I suppose it is never
too late to begin, Mr. Armstrong?"
"On the contrary, I not merely believe that no future time can be so
good as the present, but I am inclined to assert that no past time
could have been so good as the present. This seems to be a paradox, but
I think I could explain it very easily. I find, however, that the
ladies are looking as if they wanted to go home, and I am quite ready,
Mrs. Armstrong. But while the ladies put their bonnets on, just let
Smith see your schoolroom, Mr. Bloomfield. As an inhabitant of
Purleybridge, I already begin to be proud of it."
The ladies did go to put on their bonnets. I followed Mr. Bloomfield
and the colonel into the schoolroom, and the curate followed me. But
after we had looked about us and remarked on the things about for five
minutes, finding I had left my handkerchief in the drawing-room, I went
back to fetch it. The door was open, and I saw Adela--no bonnet on her
head yet--standing face to face with Harry. They were alone. I
hesitated for a moment what I should do, and while I hesitated, I could
not help seeing the arm of the doctor curved and half-outstretched, as
if it would gladly have folded about her, and his face droop and droop,
till it could not have been more than half a foot from hers. Now, as
far as my seeing this was concerned, there was no harm done. But behind
me came the curate and the schoolmaster, and they had eyes in their
heads, at least equal to mine. Well, no great harm yet. And just far
enough down the stair to see into the drawing-room, appeared their
wives, who could not fail to see the unconscious pair, at least as well
as we men below. Still there was no great harm done, for Mrs. Cathcart
was at home, as I have said. But, _horresco referens!_ excuse the
recondite quotation--at the same moment the form of the colonel
appeared, looking over the heads of all before him right in at the
drawing-room door, and full at the young sinners, who had heard no
sound along the matted passage.
"Here's a go!" said I to myself--not aloud, observe, for it was slang.
For just think of a man like Harry caught thus in a perfect trap of
converging looks.
As if from a sudden feeling of hostile presence, he glanced round--and
stood erect. The poor fellow's face at once flushed as red as shame
could make it, but he neither lost his self-possession, nor sought to
escape under cover of a useless pretence. He turned to the colonel.
"Colonel Cathcart," he said, "I will choose a more suitable time to
make my apology. I wish you good night."
He bowed to us all, not choosing to risk a refusal of his hand by the
colonel, and went quickly out of the house.
The colonel stood for some moments, which felt to me like minutes, as
if he had just mounted guard at the drawing-room door. His face was
perfectly expressionless. We men felt very much like stale oysters, and
would rather have skipped that same portion of our inevitable
existence. What the ladies felt, I do not pretend, being an old
bachelor, to divine.
Adela, pale as death, fled up the stair. The only thing left for the
rest of us was, to act as much as possible as if nothing were the
matter, and get out of the way before the poor girl came down again. As
soon as I got home, I went to my own room, and thus avoided the
_tete-a-tete_ with my host which generally closed our evenings.
The colonel went up to his daughter's room, and remained there for
nearly an hour. Adela was not at the breakfast-table the next morning.
Her father looked very gloomy, and Mrs. Cathcart grimly satisfied, with
_I told you so_ written on her face as plainly as I have now written it
on the paper. How she came to know anything about it, I can only
conjecture.