Gryll Grange Part 32

The doctor walked on, soliloquising as usual. 'This young man's father has lost a good wife, and has never been the same man since. If he had had a bad wife, he would have felt it as a happy release. This life has strange compensations. It helps to show the truth of Juvenal's remark, that the G.o.ds alone know what is good for us.{2}

1 Il. xxii. vv. 500, 501.

2 Juvenal: Sut. x. v. 346.

Now, here again is my friend at the Tower. If he had not, as I am sure he has, the love of Morgana, he would console himself with his Vestals.

If he had not their sisterly affection, he would rejoice in the love of Morgana, but having both the love and the affection, he is between two counter-attractions, either of which would make him happy, and both together make him miserable. Who can say which is best for him? or for them? or for Morgana herself? I almost wish the light of her favour had shone on _Lord Curryfin._ That chance has pa.s.s from her; and she will not easily find such another. Perhaps she might have held him in her bonds, if she had been so disposed. But _Miss Niphet._ is a glorious girl, and there is a great charm in such perfect reciprocity. Jupiter himself, as I have before had occasion to remark, must have prearranged their consentaneity. The young lord went on some time, adhering, as he supposed, to his first pursuit, and falling unconsciously and inextricably into the second; and the young lady went on, devoting her whole heart and soul to him, not clearly perhaps knowing it herself, but certainly not suspecting that any one else could dive into the heart of her mystery. And now they both seem surprised that n.o.body seems surprised at their sudden appearance in the character affianced lovers.

His is another example of strange compensation; for if Morgana had accepted him on his first offer, Miss Niphet would not have thought of him; but she found him a waif and stray, a flotsam on the waters of love, and landed him at her feet without art or stratagem. Artlessness and simplicity triumphed, where the deepest design would have /ailed. I do not know if she had any compensation to look for; but if she had, she has found it; for never was a man with more qualities for domestic happiness, and not Pedro of Portugal himself was more overwhelmingly in love. When I first knew him, I saw only the comic side of his character: he has a serious one too, and not the least agreeable part of it: but the comic still shows itself. I cannot well define whether his exuberant good-humour is contagious, and makes me laugh by antic.i.p.ation as soon as I fall into his company, or whether it is impossible to think of him, gravely lecturing on Fish, as a member of the Pantopragmatic Society, without perceiving a ludicrous contrast between his pleasant social face and the unpleasant social impertinence of those would-be meddlers with everything. It is true, he has renounced that folly; but it is not so easy to dissociate him from the recollection. No matter: if I laugh, he laughs with me: if he laughs, I laugh with him. "Laugh when you can,"

is a good maxim: between well-disposed sympathies a very little cause strikes out the fire of merriment--

As long liveth the merry man, they say, As doth the sorry man, and longer by a day.

And a day so acquired is a day worth having. But then-- Another sayd sawe doth men advise, That they be together both merry and wise.{1}

1 These two quotations are from the oldest comedy in the English language: _Ralph Roister Doister_, 1566. Republished by the Shakespeare Society, 1847.

Very good doctrine, and fit to be kept in mind: but there is much good laughter without much wisdom, and yet with no harm in it.'

The doctor was approaching the Tower when he met Mr. Falconer, who had made one of his feverish exits from it, and was walking at double his usual speed. He turned back with the doctor, who having declined taking anything before dinner but a gla.s.s of wine and a biscuit, they went up together to the library.

They conversed only on literary subjects. The doctor, though Miss Cryll was uppermost in his mind, determined not to originate a word respecting her, and Mr. Falconer, though she was also his predominant idea, felt that it was only over a bottle of Madeira he could unbosom himself freely to the doctor.

The doctor asked, 'What he had been reading of late? He said, 'I have tried many things, but I have alway returned to _Orlando Innamorato_.

There it is on the table an old edition of the original poem.{1} The doctor said, have seen an old edition, something like this, on the drawing-room table at the Grange.' He was about to say something touching sympathy in taste, but he checked himself in time. The two younger sisters brought in lights. 'I observe,' said the doctor, 'that your handmaids always move in pairs. My hot water for dressing is always brought by two inseparables, whom it seems profanation to call housemaids.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: Your handmaids always move in pairs 298-256]

_Mr. Falconer._ It is always so on my side of the house that not a breath of scandal may touch their reputation. If you were to live here from January to December, with a houseful of company, neither you nor I, nor any of my friends, would see one of them alone for a single minute.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I approve the rule. I would stake my life on the conviction that these sisters are

Pure as the new-fall'n snow, When never yet the sullying sun Has seen its purity, Nor the warm zephyr touched and tainted it.{1}

1 Southey: _Thalaba_.

But as the world is const.i.tuted, the most perfect virtue needs to be guarded from suspicion. I cannot, however, a.s.sociate your habits with a houseful of company.

_Mr. Falconer._ There must be sympathies enough in the world to make up society for all tastes: more difficult to find in some cases than in others; but still always within the possibility of being found. I contemplated, when I arranged this house, the frequent presence of a select party. The Aristophanic comedy and its adjuncts brought me into pleasant company elsewhere. I have postponed the purpose, not abandoned it.

Several thoughts pa.s.sed through the doctor's mind. He was almost tempted to speak them. 'How beautiful was Miss Gryll in Circe; how charmingly she acted. What was a select party without women? And how could a bachelor invite them?' But this would be touching a string which he had determined not to be the first to strike. So, _apropos_ of the Aristophanic comedy, he took down Aristophanes, and said, 'What a high idea of Athenian comedy is given by this single line, in which the poet opines "the bringing out of comedy to be the most difficult of all arts."'{1} It would not seem to be a difficult art nowadays, seeing how much new comedy is nightly produced in London, and still more in Paris, which, whatever may be its literary value, amuses its audiences as much as Aristophanes amused the Athenians.

_Mr. Falconer._ There is this difference, that though both audiences may be equally amused, the Athenians felt they had something to be proud of in the poet, which our audiences can scarcely feel, as far as novelties are concerned. And as to the atrocious outrages on taste and feeling perpetrated under the name of burlesques, I should be astonished if even those who laugh at them could look back on their amus.e.m.e.nt with any other feeling than that of being most heartily ashamed of the author, the theatre, and themselves.

When the dinner was over, and a bottle of claret had been placed by the side of the doctor, and a bottle of Madeira by the side of his host, who had not been sparing during dinner of his favourite beverage, which had been to him for some days like ale to the Captain and his friends in Beaumont and Fletcher,{2} almost 'his eating and his drinking solely,'

the doctor said, 'I am glad to perceive that you keep up your practice of having a good dinner; though I am at the same time sorry to see that you have not done your old justice to it.'

1 (Greek pa.s.sage)--Equites.

2 Ale is their eating and their drinking solely.

--Scornful Lady, Act iv. Scene 2.

_Mr. Falconer._ A great philosopher had seven friends, one of whom dined with him in succession on each day of the week. He directed, amongst his last dispositions, that during six months after his death the establishment of his house should be kept on the same footing, and that a dinner should be daily provided for himself and his single guest of the day, who was to be entreated to dine there in memory of him, with one of his executors (both philosophers) to represent him in doing the honours of the table alternately.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I am happy to see that the honours of your table are done by yourself, and not by an executor, administrator, or a.s.sign.

The honours are done admirably, but the old justice on your side is wanting. I do not, however, clearly see what the _feralis caena_ of guest and executor has to do with the dinner of two living men.

_Mr. Falconer._ Ah, doctor, you should say one living man and a ghost.

I am only the ghost of myself. I do the honours of my departed conviviality.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I thought something was wrong; but whatever it may be, take Horace's advice--'Alleviate every ill with wine and song, the sweet consolations of deforming anxiety.'{1}

_Mr. Falconer._ I do, doctor. Madeira, and the music of the Seven Sisters, are my consolations, and great ones; but they do not go down to the hidden care that gnaws at the deepest fibres of the heart, like Ratatosk at the roots of the Ash of Ygdrasil.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ In the Scandinavian mythology: one of the most poetical of all mythologies. I have a great respect for Odin and Thor.

Their adventures have always delighted me; and the system was admirably adapted to foster the high spirit of a military people. Lucan has a fine pa.s.sage on the subject.{2}

1 illia omne malum vino cantuque levato, deformis aggrimonio dulcibus alloquiis.

Epod. xiii.

2 Pharsalia, 458-462.

The doctor repeated the pa.s.sage of Lucan with great emphasis. This was not what Mr. Falconer wanted. He had wished that the doctor should inquire into the cause of his trouble; but independently of the doctor's determination to ask no questions, and to let his young friend originate his own disclosures, the unlucky metaphor had carried the doctor into one of his old fields, and if it had not been that he awaited the confidence, which he felt sure his host would spontaneously repose in him, the Scandinavian mythology would have formed his subject for the evening. He paused, therefore, and went on quietly sipping his claret.

Mr. Falconer could restrain himself no longer, and without preface or note of preparation, he communicated to the doctor all that had pa.s.sed between Miss Gryll and himself, not omitting a single word of the pa.s.sages of Bojardo, which were indelibly impressed on his memory.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I cannot see what there is to afflict you in all this. You are in love with _Miss Gryll._ She is disposed to receive you favourably. What more would you wish in that quarter?

_Mr. Falconer._ No more in that quarter, but the Seven Sisters are as sisters to me. If I had seven real sisters, the relationship would subsist, and marriage would not interfere with it; but, be a woman as amiable, as liberal, as indulgent, as confiding as she may, she could not treat the unreal as she would the real tie.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I admit, it is not to be expected. Still there is one way out of the difficulty. And that is by seeing all the seven happily married.

_Mr. Falconer._ All the seven married? Surely that is impossible.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Not so impossible as you apprehend.

The doctor thought it a favourable opportunity to tell the story of the seven suitors, and was especially panegyrical on Harry Hedgerow, observing, that if the maxim _Noscitur a sociis_ might be reversed, and a man's companions judged by himself, it would be a sufficient recommendation of the other six; whom, moreover, the result of his inquiries had given him ample reason to think well of. Mr. Falconer received with pleasure at Christmas a communication which at the Midsummer preceding would have given him infinite pain. It struck him all at once that, as he had dined so ill, he would have some partridges for supper, his larder being always well stocked with game. They were presented accordingly, after the usual music in the drawing-room, and the doctor, though he had dined well, considered himself bound in courtesy to a.s.sist in their disposal; when, recollecting how he had wound, up the night of the ball, he volunteered to brew a bowl of punch, over which they sate till a late hour, discoursing of many things, but chiefly of Morgana.

[Ill.u.s.tration: discoursing of many things, but chiefly of Morgana 304-261]

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

THE CONQUEST OF THEBES

(Greek pa.s.sage)