Charles Auchester Volume I Part 31

"We may enter now, I think," he said; for he had waited reverently as I, and he gently pushed those folds.

They slid back, and we entered a narrow lobby, very dim and disenchanted looking. Still softly we proceeded to another door within, which I had not discovered, and he touched that too with an air of subtile and still authority. I was dazzled the first instant; but he took my hand directly, and drew me forwards with him to a seat in some region of enchantment. As I sat by him there I soon recovered myself to the utmost, and beheld before me a sight which I shall not easily forget, nor ever cease to hold as it was presented to me on that occasion.

It was a vast and vaulted room; whether of delicate or decided architecture I could not possibly declare, such a dream it was of wreaths and mystic floral arches. Pillars twined with gold-bloomed lime-branches rose burdened with them to the roof, there mixing into the long festoons of oak-leaf that hung as if they grew there from the gray-brown rafters. Everywhere was a drooping odor that had been oppressive, most unendurably sweet, but for the strong air wafted and ruffling through the open windows on either hand.

We were sitting quite behind all others, on the loftiest tier of seats, that were raised step by step so gently upwards to the back, and beneath us were seats all full, where none turned nor seemed to talk; for all eyes were surely allured and riveted by the scenery to the fronting end. It was a lofty, arched recess, spanning the extreme width of the hall; a window, half a dome, of gla.s.s poured down a condensed light upon two galleries within, which leaned into the form of the arch itself, and were so thickly interlaced with green that nothing else was visible except the figures which filled them, draperied in white, side by side in shining rows,--like angels, so I thought. Young men and boys above, in flowing robes as choristers, overhung the maiden forms of the gallery below; and of these last, every one wore roses on the breast, as well as glistening raiment.

These galleries of greenery were themselves overhanging a platform covered with dark-green cloth, exquisitely fluted at the sides, and drawn in front over three or four steps that raised it from the flooring of the hall. A band in two divisions graced the ground floor.

I caught the sight immediately; but upon the platform itself stood a pianoforte alone, a table covered with dark-green velvet, and about a dozen dark-green velvet chairs. These last were all filled except one, and its late occupant had pushed that one chair back while he stood at the top of the table, with something glittering in his hand, and other somethings glittering before him upon the dark-green surface. As we entered, indeed, he was so standing, and I took in all I have related with one glance, it was, though green, so definite.

"Look well at that gentleman who stands," whispered my guide, most slowly; "it is he who is dispensing the prizes. He is Monsieur Milans-Andre, whom you wished to see."

I am blessed with a long sight, and I took a long survey; but lest I should prejudice the reader, my criticisms shall remain in limbo.

"When we heard the singing it was that he had just dispensed a medal; and it is so the fellow-compet.i.tors hail the successful student. If I mistake not, there is another advancing; but it is too far for us to hear his name. Do you see your master at the awful table? But soft! I think his face is not this way."

"Oh!" I thought, and I laughed in my sleeve, "he is dreaming I am safe at home, if he dreams about me at all, which is a question." But I was not looking after him; I took care to watch Milans-Andre, feeling sure my guide would prefer not to be stared upon in a public place like that.

The voice that called the candidates was high in key, and not unrefined; but what best pleased me was to see one advance,--a boy, all blushing and bowing to receive a golden medal, which Milans-Andre, his very self, with his own hands, flung round the youngling's neck by its long blue ribbon; for then the same sweet verse in semi-chorus sounded from the loftiest gallery, the males alone repeating it for their brother. I could not distinguish the words, but the style was quite _alla Tedesca_.

Then another youth approached, and received more airily a silver token, with the same blue ribbon and songful welcome. Another and another, and at last the girls were called.

"See!" said my guide, "they have put the ladies last! That shall not be when I take the reins of the committee. Oh, for the Cecilian chivalry! what a taunting remembrance I will make it."

He was smiling, but I was surprised at the eagerness of his tones.

"Does it matter, sir?" said I.

"Signify? It signifies so much the more that it is a little thing, a little token. But it shall not grow; it shall not swell. See, see!

look, Charles! what name was that?"

I had not heard it either, but the impetuosity in his tones was so peculiar that I was constrained to look up at him. His eye was dilated; a singular flash of light rather than flush of color glowed upon his face, as if glory from the noonday sun had poured itself through the impervious roof. But his gaze forbade my gaze, it was so fixed and piercing upon something at the end of the hall.

Imperceptibly to myself I followed it. The first maiden who had approached the chair was now turning to re-pa.s.s into her place. She was clad, like the galleried ones, in white; but her whole aspect was unlike theirs, for instead of the slow step and lingering blush, her movement was a sort of flight, as if her feet were sandalled with the wind, back again among the crowd; and as she fled, you could only discern some strange gleam of unusual grace in a countenance drooping, but not bashfully, and veiled with waves, not ringlets, of hair more dark than pine-trees at midnight; also, it was impossible not to notice the angry putting back of one gloved hand, which crushed up the golden medal and an end of the azure ribbon, while the other was trailing upon the ground.

"She does not like it; she is proud, I suppose!" said I; and I laughed almost loud. "I thought you knew them all, sir?"

"No, Charles, I was never here before; but as I am to have something to do with what they do soon, I thought I had a right to come to-day."

"A right!" said I; "who else, if you had not the right, sir? But still I wonder how we got in so easily,--I mean I; for if you had not brought me, I could not, I suppose, have come."

"It is this," he answered smiling, and he touched his professor's cloak, or robe, which was now encircling his shoulders, and waved about him pliantly. "They all wear the same on entering these walls, at least who sit at the green table."

The choral welcome, meantime, had pealed from the lower gallery, and another had advanced and retired from the ranks beneath. My companion was intently gazing, not at the maiden troop, but at the deep festoons above us. He seemed to see nothing there though, and the very position of his hands, resting upon each other and entirely relaxed, bore witness to the languor of his abstraction. It occurred to me how very cool they were, both those who distributed, and those who received the medals; I felt there was an absence of the strict romance, if I may so name it, I had expected when I entered; for as we sat, and whence we saw, all was ideal to the sight, and the sense was even lost in the spiritual appreciation of an exact proportionateness to the occasion.

Yet the silence alternating with the rising and abating voices, the harmony of the coloring and shadowing, the dim rustle of the green festoons, the waftures of woody and blossomy fragrance, the indoor forest feeling, so fresh and wild,--all should have stood me in stead, perhaps, of the needless enthusiasm I should have looked for in such a meeting, or have witnessed without surprise. I was not wise enough at that time to define the precise degree and kind of enthusiasm I should have required to content me, but perhaps it would be impossible even now for any degree to content me, or for any kind not to find favor in my eyes, if natural and spontaneously betrayed. The want I felt, however, was just a twilight preparation of the faculties for the scene that followed.

The last silver medal had been carried from the table, the last white-robed nymph had sought her seat with the ribbon streaking her drapery, when both the choral forces rose and sang together the welcome in more exciting fulness. And then they all sat down, and a murmur of voices and motion began to roll on all sides, as if some new part were to be played over.

The band arose on either side, and after a short, deferential pause, as if calling attention to something, commenced with perfect precision Weber's "Jubel" overture.[15] It was my companion who told me its name, whispering it into my ear; and I listened eagerly, having heard of its author in every key of praise.

I did not much care for the effect, though it was as cool as needed to be after those cool proceedings. I dearly wanted to ask him whether he loved it; but it was unnecessary, for I could see it was even nothing to him by his face. He seemed pa.s.sing judgment proudly, furtively, on all that chanced around him, and I could not but feel that he searched all, governed all with his eye from that obscure corner.

Immediately on the conclusion of the overture several professors left the table and cl.u.s.tered round the pianoforte. One opened it, and then Milans-Andre approached, and waving his creamy gloves, unclothed his hands, and stood at the front of the platform. Some boisterous shouts arose,--they began near his station, and were imitated from the middle benches; but there was an undemonstrative coldness even in these; they seemed from the head, not the heart, as one might say. The artist did not appear distressed,--indeed, he looked too cla.s.sically self-reliant to require encouragement.

He was what might be called extremely handsome. There was a largeness about his features that would have told well in a bust,--they were perfectly finished; also a Phidias could not have planed another polish on the most oval nostril, a Canova could not have pumiced unparted lips to more appropriate curve. His eyes were too far for me to search, but I did not long to come at their full expression. He stood elegantly, while the plaudits made their way among the m.u.f.fling leaves, and therein went to sleep; the golden flowers of the lindens hung down withering, smitten by the terror of his presence! My companion--to my surprise, my bewilderment even--applauded also, but, as it were, mechanically; he stood beside me on that topmost tier applauding, but his eyes were still fixed upon the roof. I heard his voice among the others, and it was just at that instant that some one, and _that_ some one in a professor's robe, a gentleman of sage demeanor, started from one of the lower tiers and looked back suddenly at him; as suddenly fired, flushed, lighted, all over his face, wise and grave as it was. _He_ saw not, still rapt, still looking upwards; but I saw and felt,--felt certain of the impressions received. A sort of whisper crept along the tier,--a portentous thrill; one and another, all turned, and before I could gather with my glance who had left them, several seats were voided beneath us.

In a few minutes I heard a long and silver thundering chord. I knew it was the reveille of the wonderful Milans-Andre; but so many persons were standing and running that I could not see, and could scarcely hear. Soon all must have heard less. As the keys continued to flash in unmitigated splendor, a rushing noise seemed arising also from the floor to the ceiling; it was, indeed, an earnest of my own pent-up enthusiasm that could not be repressed, for I found myself shouting, hurrahing beneath my breath, as all did around me. I was not mistaken; some one opened the door by which we had entered, gustily, violently, and drew my companion away. Before I thought of losing him, he was gone,--I knew not whether led or carried; I knew not whether aroused or in the midst of his high abstraction.

I pressed downwards, climbing over the benches, driving my way among those who stood, that I might see all as well as feel; but at length I stood upon a seat and beheld what was worth beholding, is bright to remember; but oh, how hopeless to record! Just so might a painter dream to pour upon his canvas an extreme effect of sunset,--those gorgeous effusions of golden flame and blinding roses that are dashed into dazzling mist before our hearts have gathered them to us, have made them, in beauty so blazingly serene, our own.

The sound of the keys, so brilliant, grew dulled as by a tempest voice in distance; not alone the hurrahs, the vivas, but the stir, the crash of the dividing mult.i.tude. And before almost I could believe it, I beheld moving through the cloven crowd that slight and unembarra.s.sed form; but he seemed alone to move as if urged by some potent necessity, for his head was carried loftily, and there was not the shadow of a smile upon his face.

It was evident that the people, between pressing and thronging, were determined to conduct him to the platform; and it struck me, from his hasty step and slightly troubled air, that he longed to reach it, for calm to be restored. Milans-Andre, meantime,--will it be believed?--continued playing, and scarcely raised his eyes as my conductor at length mounted the steps, and seemed to my sight to shrink among those who now stood about him. But it was hopeless to restore the calm. I knew that from the first. He had no sooner trodden the elevation than a burst of joyous welcome that drowned the keys, that drenched the very ear, forced the pianist to quit his place. No one looked at him of young or old, except those who had confronted him at the table. They surrounded him, some with smiles and eager questions; some with provoking gravity. The other was left alone to stem, as it were, that tide of deafening acclaim; he slightly compressed his lip, made a slight motion forwards; he lifted his hand with the slight deprecation that modesty or pride might have suggested alike,--still hopelessly. The arrears of enthusiasm demanded to be paid with interest; the trampings, the shower-like claps, the shouts, only deepened, widened tenfold: the mult.i.tude became a mob, and frantic,--but with a glorious zeal! Some tore handfuls of the green adorning the pillars, and pa.s.sing it forward, it was strewn on the steps. From the galleries hung the excited children, girls and boys, and dividing their bouquets, rained the roses upon his head, that floated, crimson and pink and pearly, to the green floor beneath his feet. With a sort of delicate desperation he shook his hair from those dropped flowers, and for one instant hid his face; the next, flung down his hands, and smiled a flashing smile,--so that, from lip to brow, it was as if some sunbeam fluttered in the cage of a rosy cloud, smiling above, below, and everywhere it seemed,--ran round the group of professors to the piano, and without seating himself, without prelude, began a low and hymn-like melody.

Oh! that you had heard the lull, like a dream dying, dissolving from the awakening brain,--the deep and tremendous, yet living and breathing stillness,--that sank upon each pulse of that enthusiasm raised and fanned by him, and by him absorbed and hidden to brood and be at rest!

I know not which I felt the most, the pa.s.sion of that almost bursting heart of silence, as it were, rolled together into a purple bud from its noon-day efflorescence by the power that had alone been able to unsheathe its glories,--or that stealing, creeping People's Song, that in few and simple chords, beneath one slender, tender pair of hands, held bound, as it were, and condensed in one voice the voice of myriads. For myself, I writhed with bliss, I was petrified into desolation by delight; but I was not singular on that occasion, for those around me seemed alone to live, to breathe, that they might receive and retain those few precious golden notes, and learn those glorious lineaments, so pale, so radiant with the suddenly starting hectic, as his hands still stirred the keys to a fiercer inward harmony than that they veiled by touch.

It was not long, that holy People's Song; I scarcely think it lasted five minutes,--certainly not more; but the effect may be better conceived, and the power of the player appreciated, when I say not one note was lost: each sounded, rang almost hollow, in the intense pervading silence.

"It is over," I thought, as he raised those slender hands, after a rich reverberating pause on the final chord, swelling with dim arpeggios on the harmony as into the extreme of vaulting distance,--"it is over; and they will make that dreadful noise unless he plays again." Never have I been so mistaken: but how could I antic.i.p.ate aught of him? For as he moved he fixed his eyes upon the audience, so that each individual must have felt the glance within his soul,--so seemed to feel it; for it expressed a command sheathed in a supplication, unearthly, irresistible, that the applause should not be renewed.

There was perfect stillness, and he turned to Milans-Andre and spoke.

Every one beneath the roof must have heard his words, for they were distinct as authoritatively serene. "Will you be so good as to resume your seat?" And as if swayed by some angel power,--such as drove the a.s.s of Balaam to the wall,--the imperial pianist sat down, flushed and rather ruffled, but with a certain pomp it was trying to me to witness, and re-commenced the concerto which had been so opportunely interrupted. Attention seemed restored, so far as the ear of the mult.i.tude was concerned; but every eye wandered to him who now stood behind the player and turned the leaves of the composition under present interpretation. _He_ seemed attentive enough,--not the slightest motion of his features betrayed an unsettled thought. His eyes were bent proudly, but calmly, upon the page; the rose light had faded from his cheek as the sunset flows from heaven into eternity,--but how did he feel? Hopeless to record, because hopeless to imagine. Perhaps nothing; the triumph so short but bright had no doubt become such phantasm as an unnoticeable yesterday to one whose future is fraught with expectation.

The concerto was long and elaborately handled. I felt I really should have admired it, have been thereby instructed, had not _he_ been there. But there is something grotesque in talent when genius, even in repose, is by. It is as the splendor of a festive illumination when the sun is rising upon the city; that brightness of the night turns pale and sick, while the celestial darkness is pa.s.sing away into day.

There was an oppression upon all that I heard, for something different had unprepared me for anything, everything, except something else like itself. The committee were again at the table, and when I grew weary of the second movement, I looked for my master, and found him exactly opposite, but certainly not conscious of me. His beard was delightfully trimmed, and his ink-black eyebrows were just as usual; but I had never seen such an expression as that with which he regarded the _one_. It was as if a stone had rolled from his heart, and it had begun to beat like a child's; it was as if his youth were renewed, like the eagle's; it was as if he were drinking, silently but deeply, celestial knowledge from those younger heavenly eyes. "Does he love him so well, then?" thought I. Oh that I had known it, Aronach, for then I should have loved you, have found you out! But of course you don't think we are worthy to partake such feeling, and I don't know but that you are right to keep it from us. "Would that concerto never be over?" was my next surmise,--it was about the longest process of exhaustion to which I had ever been subjected. As for me, I yawned until I was dreadfully ashamed; but when I bethought myself to look round, lo! there were five or six just out of yawns as well, and a few who had pa.s.sed that stage and closed their eyes. It never struck me as unconscionable that we should tire, when we might gaze upon the face of him who had shown himself ready to control us all; indeed, I do believe that had there been nothing going on, no concerto, no Milans-Andre, but that he had stood there silent, just as calm and still,--we should never have wearied the whole day long of feeding upon the voiceless presence, the harmony unresolved. But do you not know, oh, reader! the depression, the protracted suffering occasioned by the contemplation of any work of art--in music, in verse, in color, or in form--that is presented to us as model, that we coaxed to admire and enticed to appreciate, after we have accidentally but immediately beforehand experienced one of those ideal sensations that, whether awakened by Nature, by Genius, or by Pa.s.sion suddenly elated, claim and condense our enthusiasm, so that we are not aware of its existence except on a renewal of that same sensation so suddenly dashed away from us as our sober self returns, and our world becomes again to-day, instead of that eternal something,--new, not vague, and hidden, but not lost?

FOOTNOTE:

[15] The Jubilee Overture, written in 1818 for the accession day of the King of Prussia.

CHAPTER XXIX.

So absorbed was I, either in review or revery, that I felt not when the concerto closed, and should have remained just where I was, had not the door swung quietly behind me. I saw who beckoned me from beyond it, and was instantly with him. He had divested himself of his cloak, and seemed ready rather to fly than to walk, so light was his frame, so elastic were his motions. He said, as soon as we were on the stairs:

"I should have come for you long ago, but I thought it was of no use until such time as I could find something you might eat; for, Carlomein, you must be very hungry. I have caused you to forego your dinner, and it was very hard of me; but if you will come with me, you shall have something good and see something pretty."

"I am not hungry, sir," I of course replied; but he put up his white finger,--

"I am, though; please to permit me to eat! Come this way."

He led me along a pa.s.sage on the ground-floor of the entrance hall and through an official-looking apartment to a lively scene indeed. This was a room without walls, a sort of garden-chamber leading to the grounds of the Academy, now crowded; for the concerto had concluded, with the whole performance, and the audience had dispersed immediately, though not by the way we came, for we had met no one.

Pillars here and there upheld the roof, which was bare to the beams, and also dressed with garlands. Long tables were spread below, all down the centre, and smaller ones at the sides, each covered with beautiful white linen, and decked with fluttering ribbons and little knots of flowers. Here piles of plates and gla.s.ses, coffee-cups and tureens, betokening the purport of this pavilion; but they were nothing to the baskets trimmed with fruits, the cakes and fancy bread, the ma.s.ses of sweetmeat in all imaginable preparation. The middle of the largest table was built up with strawberries only, and a rill of cream poured from a silver urn into china bowls at the will of a serene young female who seemed in charge. A great many persons found their way hither, and were crowding to the table, and the refreshing silence was only broken by the restless jingle of spoons and crockery.

My guide smiled with a sprightly air.