CHAPTER II.

THE HEROES.

MRS. TRACY'S sons were as unlike each other as it is well possible for

two human beings to be, both in person and character. Julian, whose

forward and bold spirit gained him from the very cradle every

prerogative of eldership (and he did struggle first into life, too, so

he was the first-born), had grown to be a swarthy, strong, big-boned

man, of the Roman-nosed, or, more physiognomically, the Jewish cast of

countenance; with melo-dramatic elf-locks, large whiskers, and

ungovernable passions; loud, fierce, impetuous; cunning, too, for all

his overbearing clamour; and an embodied personification of those choice

essentials to criminal happiness--a hard heart and a good digestion.

Charles, on the contrary (or, as logicians would say, on the

contradictory), was fair-haired, blue-eyed, of Grecian features; slim,

though well enough for inches, and had hitherto (as the commonalty have

it) "enjoyed" weak health: he was gentle and affectionate in heart, pure

and religious in mind, studious and unobtrusive in habits. It was a

wonder to see the strange diversity between those own twin-brothers,

born within the same hour, and, it is superfluous to add, of the same

parents; brought up in all outward things alike, and who had shared

equally in all that might be called advantage or disadvantage, of

circumstance or education.

Certain is it that minds are different at birth, and require as

different a treatment as Iceland moss from cactuses, or bull-dogs from

bull-finches: certain is it, too, that Julian, early submitted and

resolutely broken in, would have made as great a man, as Charles,

naturally meek, did make a good one; but for the matter of educating her

boys, poor Mrs. Tracy had no more notion of the feat, than of squaring

the circle, or determining the longitude. She kept them both at home,

till the peevish aunt could suffer Julian's noise no longer: the house

was a Pandemonium, and the giant grown too big for that castle of

Otranto; so he must go at any rate; and (as no difference in the

treatment of different characters ever occurred to any body) of course

Charles must go along with him. Away they went to an expensive school,

which Julian's insubordination on the instant could not brook--and,

accordingly, he ran away; without doubt, Charles must be taken away too.

Another school was tried, Julian got expelled this time; and Charles,

in spite of prizes, must, on system, be removed with him: so forth, with

like wisdom, all through the years of adolescence and instruction, those

ill-matched brothers were driven as a pair. Then again, for fashion's

sake, and Aunt Green's whims, the circumspective mother, notwithstanding

all her inconsistencies, gave each of them prettily bound hand-books of

devotion; which the one used upon his knees, and the other lit cigars

withal; both extremes having exceeded her intention: and she proved

similarly overreached when she persisted in treating both exactly alike,

as to liberal allowances, and liberty of will; the result being, that

one of her sons "foolishly" spent his money in a multitude of charitable

hobbies; and that the other was constantly supplied with means for (the

mother was sorry to say it, vulgar) dissipation. By consequence, Charles

did more good, and Julian more evil, than I have time to stop and tell

off.

If any thing in this life must be personal, peculiar, and specific, it

is education: we take upon ourselves to speak thus dogmatically, not of

mere school-teaching only, _musa_, _musæ_, and so forth; nor yet of

lectures, on relative qualities of carbon and nitrogen in vegetables;

no, nor even of schemes of theology, or codes of morals; but we do speak

of the daily and hourly reining-in, or letting-out, of discouragement in

one appetite, and encouragement in another; of habitual formation of

characters in their diversity; and of shaping their bear's-cub, or that

child-angel, the natural human mind, to its destined ends; that it may

turn out, for good, according to its several natures, to be either the

strong-armed, bold-eyed, rough-hewer of God's grand designs, or the

delicate-fingered polisher of His rarest sculptures. Julian,

well-trained, might have grown to be a Luther; and many a gentle soul

like Charles, has turned out a coxcomb and a sensualist.

The boys were born, as I have said, in the regulation order of things, a

few months after Captain Tracy sailed away for India some full score of

years, and more, from this present hour, when we have seen him seated as

a general in the library at Burleigh; and, until the last year, they had

never seen their father--scarcely ever heard of him.

The incidents of their lives had been few and common-place: it would be

easy, but wearisome, to specify the orchards and the bee-hives which

Julian had robbed as a school-boy; the rebellions he had headed; the

monkey tricks he had played upon old fish-women; and the cruel havoc he

made of cats, rats, and other poor tormented creatures, who had

ministered to his wanton and brutalizing joys. In like manner, wearily,

but easily, might I relate how Charles grew up the nurse's darling,

though little of his flaunting mother's; the curly-pated young

book-worm; the sympathizing, innoffensive, gentle heart, whose effort

still it was to countervail his brother's evil: how often, at the risk

of blows, had he interposed to save some drowning puppy: how often paid

the bribe for Julian's impunity, when mulcted for some damage done in

the way of broken windows, upset apple-stalls, and the like: how often

had he screened his bad twin-brother from the flagellatory consequences

of sheer idleness, by doing for him all his school-tasks: how often

striven to guide his insensate conscience to truth, and good, and

wisdom: how often, and how vainly!

And when the youths grew up, and their good and evil grew up with them,

it were possible to tell you a heart-rending tale of Julian's treachery

to more than one poor village beauty; and many a pleasing trait of

Charles's pure benevolence, and wise zeal to remedy his brother's

mischiefs. The one went about doing ill, and the other doing good:

Julian, on account of obligations, more truly than in spite of them,

hated Charles; and yet one great aim of all Charles's amiabilities

tended continually to Julian's good, and he strove to please him, too,

while he wished to bless him. The one had grown to manhood, full of

unrepented sins, and ripe for darker crime: the other had attained a

like age of what is somewhat satirically called discretion, having

amassed, with Solon of old, "knowledge day by day," having lived a life

of piety and purity, and blest with a cheerful disposition, that teemed

with happy thoughts.

They had, of course, in the progress of human life, been both laid upon

the bed of sickness, where, with similar contrast, the one lay muttering

discontent, and the other smiling patiently: they had both been in

dangers by land and by sea, where Julian, though not a little lacking to

himself at the moment of peril, was still loudly minacious till it came

too near; while Charles, with all his caution, was more actually

courageous, and in spite of all his gentleness, stood against the worst

undaunted: they had both, with opposite motives and dissimilar modes of

life, passed through various vicissitudes of feeling, scene, society;

and the influence of circumstance on their different characters,

heightened or diminished, bettered or depraved, by the good or evil

principle in each, had produced their different and probable results.

Thus, strangely dissimilar, the twin-brothers together stand before us:

Julian the strong impersonation of the animal man, as Charles of the

intellectual; Julian, matter; Charles, spirit; Julian, the creature of

this world, tending to a lower and a worse: Charles, though in the

world, not of the world, and reaching to a higher and a better.

Mrs. Tracy, the mother of this various progeny, had been somewhat of a

beauty in her day, albeit much too large and masculine for the taste of

ordinary mortals; and though now very considerably past forty, the vain

vast female was still ambitious of compliment, and greedy of admiration.

That Julian should be such a woman's favourite will surprise none: she

had, she could have, no sympathies with mild and thoughtful Charles; but

rather dreaded to set her flaunting folly in the light of his wise

glance, and sought to hide her humbled vanity from his pure and keen

perceptions. His very presence was a tacit rebuke to her social

dissipation, and she could not endure the mild radiance of his virtues.

He never fawned and flattered her, as Julian would; but had even

suffered filial presumption (it could not be affection--O dear, no!) to

go so far as gently to expostulate at what he fancied wrong; he never

gave her reason to contrast, with happy self-complacence, her own soul's

state with Charles's, however she could with Julian's: and then, too,

she would indulgently allow her foolish mind--a woman's, though a

parent's--to admire that tall, black, bandit-looking son, above the

slight build, the delicate features, and almost feminine elegance of his

brother: she found Julian always ready to countenance and pamper her

gayest wishes, and was glad to make him her escort every where--at

balls, and fêtes, and races, and archery parties; while as to Charles,

he would be the stay-at-home, the milk-sop, the learned pundit, the

pious prayer-monger, any thing but the ladies' man. Yes: it is little

wonder that Mrs. Tracy's heart clave to Julian, the masculine image of

herself; while it barely tolerated Charles, who was a rarefied and

idealized likeness of the absent and forgotten Tracy.

But the mother--and there are many silly mothers, almost as many as

silly men and silly maids--in her admiration of the outward form of

manliness, overlooked the true strength, and chivalry, and nobleness of

mind which shone supreme in Charles. How would Julian have acted in such

a case as this?--a sheep had wandered down the cliff's face to a narrow

ledge of rock, whence it could not come back again, for there was no

room to turn: Julian would have pelted it, and set his bull-dog at it,

and rejoiced to have seen the poor animal's frantic leaps from shingly

shelf to shelf, till it would be dashed to pieces. But how did Charles

act? With the utmost courage, and caution, and presence of mind, he

crept down, and, at the risk of his life, dragged the bleating,

unreluctant creature up again; it really seemed as if the ungrateful

poor dumb brute recognised its humane friend, and suffered him to rescue

it without a struggle or a motion that might have endangered both.

Again: a burly costermonger was belabouring his donkey, and the wretched

beast fell beneath his cudgel: strange to say, Julian and Charles were

walking together that time; and the same sight affected each so

differently, that the one sided with the cruel man, and the other with

his suffering victim: Charles, in momentary indignation, rushed up to

the fellow, wrested the cudgel from his hand, and flung it over the

cliff; while Julian was so base, so cowardly, as to reward such generous

interference, by holding his weaker brother's arms, and inviting the

wrathful costermonger to expend the remainder of his phrensy on unlucky

Charles. Yes, and when at home Mrs. Tracy heard all this, she was silly

enough, wicked enough, to receive her truly noble son with ridicule, and

her other one, the child of her disgrace, with approval.

"It will teach you, Master Charles, not to meddle with common people and

their donkeys; and you may thank your brother Julian for giving you a

lesson how a gentleman should behave."

Poor Charles! but poorer Julian, and poorest Mrs. Tracy!

It would be easy, if need were, to enumerate multiplied examples tending

towards the same end--a large, masculine-featured mother's foolish

preference of the loud, bold, worldly animal, before the meek, kind,

noble, spiritual. And the results of all these many matters were, that

now, at twenty years of age, Charles found himself, as it were, alone in

a strange land, with many common friends indeed abroad, but at home no

nearer, dearer ties to string his heart's dank lyre withal; neither

mother nor brother, nor any other kind familiar face, to look upon his

gentleness in love, or to sympathize with his affections, unapprehended,

unappreciated: so--while Mrs. Tracy was the showy, gay, and vapid thing

she ever had been, and Julian the same impetuous mother's son which his

very nurse could say she knew him--Charles grew up a shy and silent

youth, necessarily reserved, for lack of some one to understand him;

necessarily chilled, for want of somebody to love him.

The Twins: A Domestic Novel · 第 2 / 30 章