Gryll Grange Part 22

The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan, that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears: Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To deck the laureat hea.r.s.e where Lycid lies.

And at the same time he plucks the berries of the myrtle and the ivy.

_Miss Ilex._ Very beautiful, if not true to English seasons: but Milton might have thought himself justified in making this combination in Arcadia. Generally, he is strictly accurate, to a degree that is in itself a beauty. For instance, in his address to the nightingale--

Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among, I woo to hear thy even-song, And missing thee, I walk unseen, On the dry smooth-shaven green.

The song of the nightingale ceases about the time that the gra.s.s is mown.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ The old Greek poetry is always true to Nature, and will bear any degree of critical a.n.a.lysis. I must say I take no pleasure in poetry that will not.

_Mr. MacBorrowdale._ No poet is truer to Nature than Burns, and no one less so than Moore. His imagery is almost always false. Here is a highly-applauded stanza, and very taking at first sight--

The night-dew of heaven, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the sod where he sleeps; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

But it will not bear a.n.a.lysis. The dew is the cause of the verdure: but the tear is not the cause of the memory: the memory is the cause of the tear.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ There are inaccuracies more offensive to me than even false imagery. Here is one, in a song which I have often heard with displeasure. A young man goes up a mountain, and as he goes higher and higher, he repeats _Excelsior_: but _excelsior_ is only taller in the comparison of things on a common basis, not higher, as a detached object in the air. Jack's bean-stalk was _excelsior_ the higher it grew: but Jack himself was no more _celsus_ at the top than he had been at the bottom.

_Mr. MacBorrowdale._ I am afraid, doctor, if you look for profound knowledge in popular poetry, you will often be disappointed.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I do not look for profound knowledge. But I do expect that poets should understand what they talk of. Burns was not a scholar, but he was always master of his subject. All the scholarship of the world would not have produced _Tarn o' Shanter_: but in the whole of that poem there is not a false image nor a misused word. What do you suppose these lines represent?

I turning saw, throned on a flowery rise, One sitting on a crimson scarf unrolled: A queen, with swarthy cheeks and bold black eyes, Brow-bound with burning gold.

_Mr. MacBorrowdale._ I should take it to be a description of the Queen of Bambo.

The Rev. Dr, Opimian, Yet thus one of our most popular poets describes Cleopatra: and one of our most popular artists has ill.u.s.trated the description by a portrait of a hideous grinning aethiop. Moore led the way to this perversion by demonstrating that the aegyptian women must have been beautiful, because they were 'the countrywomen of Cleopatra.'

{1} 'Here we have a sort of counter-demonstration, that Cleopatra must have been a fright because she was the countrywoman of the aegyptians.

But Cleopatra was a Greek, the daughter of Ptolemy Auletes, and a lady of Pontus. The Ptolemies were Greeks, and whoever will look at their genealogy, their coins, and their medals, will see how carefully they kept their pure Greek blood uncontaminated by African intermixture.

Think of this description and this picture applied to one who Dio says --and all antiquity confirms him--was 'the most superlatively beautiful of women, splendid to see, and delightful to hear.'{2} For she was eminently accomplished: she spoke many languages with grace and facility. Her mind was as wonderful as her personal beauty. There is not a shadow of intellectual expression in that horrible portrait.

1 Dc Pauw, the great depreciator of everything aegyptian, has, on the authority of a pa.s.sage in Aelian, presumed to affix to the countrywomen of Cleopatra the stigma of complete and unredeemed ugliness.--Moore's _Epicurean_, fifth note.

2 (Greek phrase)--Dio,.vlii. 34.

The conversation at the quadrille-table was carried on with occasional pauses, and intermingled with the technicalities of the game.

Miss Gryll continued to alternate between joining in the quadrille-dances and resuming her seat by the side of the room, where she was the object of great attention from some young gentlemen, who were glad to find her unattended by either Lord Curryfin or _Mr.

Falconer._ Mr. Falconer continued to sit as if he had been fixed to his seat, like Theseus. The more he reflected on his conduct, in disappearing at that critical point of time and staying away so long, the more he felt that he had been guilty of an unjustifiable, and perhaps unpardonable offence. He noticed with extreme discomposure the swarm of moths, as he called them to himself, who were fluttering in the light of her beauty: he would gladly have put them to flight; and this being out of the question, he would have been contented to take his place among them; but he dared not try the experiment.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Moths fluttering in the light of her beauty 214-182]

Nevertheless, he would have been graciously received. The young lady was not cherishing any feeling of resentment against him. She understood, and made generous allowance for, his divided feelings. But his irresolution, if he were left to himself, was likely to be of long duration: and she meditated within herself the means of forcing him to a conclusion one way or the other.

CHAPTER XXIV

PROGRESS OF SYMPATHY--LOVE'S INJUNCTIONS--ORLANDO INNAMORATO

(Greek pa.s.sage) Anacreon.

See, youth, the nymph who charms your eyes; Watch, lest you lose the willing prize.

As queen of flowers the rose you own, And her of maids the rose alone.

While light, fire, mirth, and music were enlivening the party within the close-drawn curtains, without were moonless night and thickly-falling snow; and the morning opened on one vast expanse of white, mantling alike the lawns and the trees, and weighing down the wide-spreading branches. Lord Curryfin, determined not to be baulked of his skating, sallied forth immediately after breakfast, collected a body of labourers, and swept clear an ample surface of ice, a path to it from the house, and a promenade on the bank. Here he and Miss Niphet amused themselves in the afternoon, in company with a small number of the party, and in the presence of about the usual number of spectators. Mr.

Falconer was there, and contented himself with looking on.

Lord Curryfin proposed a reel, Miss Niphet acquiesced, but it was long before they found a third. At length one young gentleman, of the plump and rotund order, volunteered to supply the deficiency, and was soon deposited on the ice, where his partners in the ice-dance would have tumbled over him if they had not antic.i.p.ated the result, and given him a wide berth. One or two others followed, exhibiting several varieties in the art of falling ungracefully. At last the lord and the lady skated away on as large a circuit as the cleared ice permitted, and as they went he said to her--

'If you were the prize of skating, as Atalanta was of running, I should have good hope to carry you off against all compet.i.tors but yourself.'

She answered, 'Do not disturb my thoughts, or I shall slip.'

He said no more, but the words left their impression. They gave him as much encouragement as, under their peculiar circ.u.mstances, he could dare to wish for, or she could venture to intimate.

Mr. Falconer admired their 'poetry of motion' as much as all the others had done. It suggested a remark which he would have liked to address to Miss Gryll, but he looked round for her in vain. He returned to the house in the hope that he might find her alone, and take the opportunity of making his peace.

He found her alone, but it seemed that he had no peace to make. She received him with a smile, and held out her hand to him, which he grasped fervently. He fancied that it trembled, but her features were composed. He then sat down at the table, on which the old edition of Bojardo was lying open as before. He said, 'You have not been down to the lake to see that wonderful skating.' She answered, 'I have seen it every day but this. The snow deters me to-day. But it is wonderful.

Grace and skill can scarcely go beyond it.'

He wanted to apologise for the mode and duration of his departure and absence, but did not know how to begin. She gave him the occasion. She said, 'You have been longer absent than usual--from our rehearsals.

But we are all tolerably perfect in our parts. But your absence was remarked--by some of the party. You seemed to be especially missed by _Lord Curryfin._ He asked the reverend doctor every morning if he thought you would return that day.'

_Algernon._ And what said the doctor?

_Morgana._ He usually said, 'I hope so.' But one morning he said something more specific.

_Algernon._ What was it?

_Morgana._ I do not know that I ought to tell you.

_Algernon._ Oh, pray do.

_Morgana._ He said, 'The chances are against it.' 'What are the odds?'

said _Lord Curryfin._ 'Seven to one,' said the doctor. 'It ought not to be so,' said Lord Curryfin, 'for here is a whole Greek chorus against seven vestals.' The doctor said, 'I do not estimate the chances by the mere balance of numbers.'

_Algernon._ He might have said more as to the balance of numbers.

_Morgana._ He might have said more, that the seven outweighed the one.

_Algernon._ He could not have said that

_Morgana._ It would be much for the one to say that the balance was even.

_Algernon._ But how if the absentee himself had been weighed against another in that one's own balance?