MAURICE.
On their arrival in America Ronald took Maurice to his southern home,
where he was received with a cordial hospitality that strengthened and
confirmed the tie of brotherhood between the young men.
We will not attempt to portray the meeting between Ronald and his
parents,--a meeting so full of joy that its throbs quickened into the
pulse of pain, as though clay-compassed hearts were hardly large enough
to endure the ecstasy of such a reunion. Nor will we dwell upon the
proud elation with which Ronald's first ambitious attempt in art was
contemplated by his parents. Their praises might simply have testified
that love appreciates; the hand that wrought might have sanctified even
a feeble work to their sight; but colder judgments pronounced Ronald's
initiatory achievement a pledge of power, and all the more decisive
because the execution of the youthful hand obviously had not kept pace
with the strong conception of the fervid brain.
We pass on to the effect produced upon Maurice by his sojourn in
Ronald's transatlantic home.
Many a pang did the youthful Frenchman endure as he noted the thorough
and genial understanding which seemed to exist between the southern
youth and his father. Maurice was amazed by Mr. Walton's unfailing
recognition that his son was a responsible being; by the confidence he
reposed in him; by the unequivocal manner in which he placed him upon a
footing of equality, even while guiding him by his counsels,--counsels
offered as the results of a larger experience, yet never so compulsorily
urged as to check his son's freedom of decision. Maurice, marked, too,
the earnest interest with which Mr. Walton entered into all Ronald's
projects, albeit some of them appeared too wild and high-reaching to be
easy of accomplishment; beheld how readily the paternal hand was
stretched out to soften the ordeals through which the neophyte must
inevitably pass, and was moved by the touching frankness with which the
noble-minded parent repeatedly congratulated himself that he had not
permitted his own predilections to force Ronald into a field of action
repugnant to his tastes.
When Maurice instinctively compared this liberal, high-toned father's
mode of influencing his son with the tyrannous control of the haughty
count, and contrasted Ronald's untrammeled position with his own state
of dependent nonentity, he felt that unstruggling submission to the
cruel decree which doomed him to waste those fresh, strong, aspiring
years of his life in hopeless idleness was a weakness rather than a
virtue.
He was only spared from passing a judgment upon his father, more correct
than filial, by throwing the blame of his conduct upon the shackling
customs, and false opinions, and arbitrary laws of his native land. He
could not but be forcibly struck by the wide dissimilarity between the
usages and views of life which distinguished the two nations. In
America, he saw men, self-made and self-educated, at an age when young
Frenchmen have scarcely begun to be aware that they have any independent
existence, rising to prominent and honorable positions, taking a bold
part in public affairs, and asserting by their achievements the maturity
of their brains. He saw men, who had been forced by circumstances to
commence their lives of toil and self-support at fifteen and eighteen, a
few years later not only gaining their own livelihood, but contributing
to the maintenance of their families, and laying the foundation of
future fortune. He saw artistic tastes, literary talents, professional,
legislative, and military abilities, brought to opulent fruition in men
but a few years his senior; and though every one seemed to work at high
pressure, every one appeared to live rapidly, crowding each day with
actions, still men _lived_, lived _consciously_, planting along the
pathway of their pilgrimage the landmarks of positive deeds; and they
sowed, and reaped, and rejoiced in their harvests, and if some of them
grew old faster than their European brethren, their age was at least
enriched by varied memories, vast experiences, manifold mental gains,
that testified to the value of their lives.
And was it imperative, Maurice asked himself, that the accident of noble
blood should paralyze a man's volition, and that the bearing of a noble
name should render his life inertly ignoble? He recognized that, in the
seeming curse which condemned man to "work," God had hidden the richest
blessing, even as he buried golden veins in the dark bosom of the earth.
"Labor was privilege," and gave its sweetest flavor to the daily cup of
life.
As for Ronald, though he loved his country with the enthusiasm which
characterized all his affections, he had never been fully cognizant of
the advantages it possessed over the land in which he had lately
sojourned until he saw them through the eyes of Maurice.
Nothing is more true than that _we can render no service to another by
which we are not served ourselves_, served spiritually, therefore
_actually_, and in the highest sense; and not merely in his new
appreciation of the land of his birth, but in numerous other ways,
Ronald was the unconscious gainer by the helpful influence he exerted
over his friend. The youthful Mentor confirmed himself in grand and
vital truths while imparting them to Maurice; his own noble resolves
were quickened into activity while he sought to infuse them into the
mind of another; his own spirit acquired strength while he was
endeavoring to render his companion strong of soul. Ronald's character
was perhaps more affluent and expansive, had more force and fixedness of
purpose, than that of Maurice, yet it derived fresh vigor from the less
hopeful, less confident nature upon which it acted.
Though Maurice owed much to the young art-student, he soon owed more to
that gentle but potent hand by which Ronald had been moulded, refined,
and spiritualized. Ronald's mother opened wide her large heart and her
loving arms to take in the motherless youth thrown by an apparent
accident within her sphere.
Mrs. Walton was one of those beings to whom life is a poem, read it in
sorrow or gladness, read it whatever way you will, because all things to
her mind had a divine significance; she knew that nothing had either its
_end_ or _origin_ here, and felt that the very day-dreams and
aspirations of impulsive youth descended by influx from those supernal
regions in which all _causes_ exist, though we darkly behold them
through _effects_ ultimated upon our earthly plane. Her eyes were never
bent upon the ground, to search out stumbling-blocks of doubt, but
looked up Godward until the heavens grew less distant, and earth's
perplexing mysteries were solved; and daily joys and daily pains only
acquired importance through their bearing upon the joys and pains of
eternity; and celestial light, flowing through her pure thoughts,
reflected its mellow glory upon her humblest surroundings, and tinged
them with ineffable beauty.
Maurice, who had been so deeply impressed by Ronald's attributes and
aims, quickly recognized the fountain-head from whence flowed the living
waters he had drank, and, humbly bending to quaff at the same stream,
became conscious that his whole being was vitalized and renewed. The
great ends of existence, for the first time, became apparent to him; and
as he learned to look upon the present and temporal as only of moment
through their effect upon the future and eternal,--as he renounced a
senseless belief in the very names of _chance_ and _accident_, and
yielded to the conviction that the simplest as the gravest occurrences
all tend to lay some stone in the great architectural edifice which
every man is building for his own dwelling-place in the hereafter,--his
trials, by some wondrous transmutation, wore a holy aspect, and gently
into his unfolding spirit stole the comforting assurance that those very
trials might be the fittest, the strongest, the _appointed_ instruments
to hew out the pathway he panted to tread, and carve for him a future
which could never have been wrought by such tools as the velvety hands
of prosperity hold in their feeble grasp.
The morbid melancholy into which Maurice had fallen, and which deepened
with his vain pondering over the mysterious fate of Madeleine, rolled
from his spirit before the breath of hope,--hope breathed through
sunshine, from the lips of a woman whose sympathetic voice, tender
looks, and quick comprehension of his emotions insensibly melted away
reserve, and drew out all his confidence. He could talk to Mrs. Walton
of Madeleine with an absence of _reticence_, an unchecked gush of
feeling, which would not have been possible when he conversed with
Ronald, or with any one but a woman, _and such a woman_.
Far from advising him, as a worldly-wise counsellor would have done, to
struggle against a passion which did not promise to prove fortunate, she
bade him cherish the image of the one he so ardently loved with perfect
trust, that if that woman were indeed his _other self_,--that _separate
half_ which makes man's full complement,--he would, in spite of all
adverse circumstances, be drawn to her, by mysterious and invisible
cords, until their union was consummated.
Mrs. Walton entertained the not irrational belief that as "either sex
alone is _half_ itself," and "each fulfils defects in each," there was
created for every male soul some feminine spirit, whose heart was
capable of responding to the finest pulses of his; one who could meet
his largest requirements; one who could alone render his being perfect,
his true manhood complete; one whom he might never meet on earth, and
yet who lived for him. This great truth (for as such he accepted it) was
a glorious revelation to Maurice. He cast out the remembrance that
Madeleine had said she loved another, or only recalled her declaration
to feel certain that she had mistaken her own heart, or that he had
misconstrued the language she had used. She became more vividly present
than ever to his mind, and the constant thought that now confidently and
happily wound itself about her seemed to him to annihilate material
distances and bring their spirits into close communion.
Maurice passed two delightful months beneath the hospitable roof of Mr.
and Mrs. Walton. The period which Ronald had allowed himself for a
holiday drew to a close. The sense of unoccupied power had begun to
render him restless, and it was with elation which might have appeared
tinctured with ingratitude by those who did not comprehend the
mysterious workings of his untranquil ambition, that he prepared for his
return to that foreign land where he could enjoy advantages for the
prosecution of his art-studies unattainable in a young country.
When Maurice embarked for America with Ronald, it was understood that
they were to return to Europe together; but one morning, when the latter
casually announced his intention of securing their passage on board of a
steamer about to sail from New York, Maurice turned to him and said
abruptly,--
"Ronald, one berth will be sufficient."
"My dear fellow, what do you mean?" inquired Ronald, only half
surprised.
"It is impossible for me," replied Maurice, "to return to my life of
indolence and _supposed gayety_. A snake might more easily crawl back
into his cast-off skin. I have breathed this free, exhilarating,
vitalizing atmosphere, and the convention-laden air of Paris would
stifle me. I have written to my father and announced that I propose
remaining in Charleston. That is not all: he forbade my studying law in
Paris, because his sapient Breton neighbors would have been scandalized
by a viscount's taking so sensible a step; but possibly I may prepare
myself for the bar at this distance, without subjecting my father to the
annoyance of their disapproval. The period required for study is
shorter, and I shall have a wider field in which to practise. I cannot
be prepared to enter upon the duties of my profession much before the
time when, according to the laws of France, I shall reach my majority;
meanwhile I study, we will say, _for amusement_. I study as other men
hunt, fish, boat, skate. What do you think of my plan?"
Ronald grasped him warmly by the hand.
"It is just what I expected of you, Maurice! When we first met, and I
was so strongly attracted to you, an internal prescience whispered that
you had within you the very qualities which are asserting their
existence to-day."
"They might have been _in_ me, Ronald," answered Maurice with emotion;
"but I fear they would never have been brought _out_ but for your
agency. I never can be grateful enough that we have been thrown
together! I never can sum up the good you have done me! I stood in such
great need of just the influence you and your mother"--The voice of
Maurice trembled, and he was unable to proceed.
Ronald broke the somewhat embarrassing silence by saying,--
"In short, you have come to the conclusion that my mother is right in
her faith, and whatever we actually need for our spiritual advancement
is invariably sent, if we will but preserve ourselves in a state of
reception. All that you still lack will be supplied in the same way, if
you can but believe."
"_I do believe_," answered Maurice, in a tone of greater solemnity than
the occasion seemed to demand; but there was a world of meaning in those
three words. We should be obliged to employ many if we attempted to
express a tithe of what he had recently learned to _believe_ through
the instrumentality of a noble thinker.
A week later, Ronald folded his mother to his throbbing heart, and
tenderly bade her adieu; but, without feeling that he should be parted
from her by their material separation. Strange to say, his farewell to
his father and Maurice was shadowed by a nearer approach to sadness and
a more definite sense of sundering. Possibly their spirits had less
power than his mother's to annihilate space and follow him whithersoever
he went.
Maurice was induced to linger a few days longer as the guest of his new
friends, and his presence prevented the void left by the departure of a
beloved and only son from being too keenly felt. At the commencement of
a new week the young viscount removed to Charleston. That city was only
a few miles distant from the residence of Ronald's parents. Mr. Walton
had made his visitor acquainted with an eminent lawyer, who consented to
receive Maurice de Gramont as a student.
Count Tristan at first violently opposed his son's step, but he could
not, with any show of reason, forbid his studying law as a _pastime_.
The count's affairs became more and more entangled, and he grew more
desirous than ever that his son should contract a wealthy marriage. The
hope that Maurice might woo and win one of those numerous heiresses,
who, Frenchmen imagine, abound in the Southern El Dorado, alone
reconciled the haughty nobleman to his son's sojourn in America.