It was towards the latter end of the month, and one of the earliest of the autumnal fogs hung thinly over the landscape. As the Earl wound along the sides of the hill on which his castle was built, the scene on which he gazed below received from the grey mists capriciously hovering over it, a dim and melancholy wildness. A broader and whiter vapour, that streaked the lower part of the valley, betrayed the course of the rivulet; and beyond, to the left, rose wan and spectral, the spire of the little church adjoining Lester"s abode. As the horseman"s eye wandered to this spot, the sun suddenly broke forth, and lit up as by enchantment, the quiet and lovely hamlet embedded, as it were, beneath,--the cottages, with their gay gardens and jasmined porches, the streamlet half in mist, half in light, while here and there columns of vapour rose above its surface like the chariots of the water genii, and broke into a thousand hues beneath the smiles of the unexpected sun: But far to the right, the mists around it yet unbroken, and the outline of its form only visible, rose the lone house of the Student, as if there the sadder spirits of the air yet rallied their broken armament of mist and shadow.
The Earl was not a man peculiarly alive to scenery, but he now involuntarily checked his horse, and gazed for a few moments on the beautiful and singular aspect which the landscape had so suddenly a.s.sumed. As he so gazed, he observed in a field at some little distance, three or four persons gathered around a bank, and among them he thought he recognised the comely form of Rowland Lester. A second inspection convinced him that he was right in his conjecture, and, turning from the road through a gap in the hedge, he made towards the group in question.
He had not proceeded far, before he saw, that the remainder of the party was composed of Lester"s daughters, the lover of the elder, and a fourth, whom he recognised as a celebrated French botanist who had lately arrived in England, and who was now making an amateur excursion throughout the more attractive districts of the island.
The Earl guessed rightly, that Monsieur de N--had not neglected to apply to Aram for a.s.sistance in a pursuit which the latter was known to have cultivated with such success, and that he had been conducted hither, as a place affording some specimen or another not unworthy of research. He now, giving his horse to his groom, joined the group.
CHAPTER III.
WHEREIN THE EARL AND THE STUDENT CONVERSE ON GRAVE BUT DELIGHTFUL MATTERS.--THE STUDENT"S NOTION OF THE ONLY EARTHLY HAPPINESS.
ARAM. If the witch Hope forbids us to be wise, Yet when I turn to these--Woe"s only friends, And with their weird and eloquent voices calm The stir and Babel of the world within, I can but dream that my vex"d years at last Shall find the quiet of a hermit"s cell:-- And, neighbouring not this hacked and jaded world, Beneath the lambent eyes of the loved stars, And, with the hollow rocks and sparry caves, The tides, and all the many-music"d winds
My oracles and co-mates;--watch my life Glide down the Stream of Knowledge, and behold Its waters with a musing stillness gla.s.s The thousand hues of Nature and of Heaven.
--From Eugene Aram, a MS. Tragedy.
The Earl continued with the party he had joined; and when their occupation was concluded and they turned homeward, he accepted the Squire"s frank invitation to partake of some refreshment at the Manor-house. It so chanced, or perhaps the Earl so contrived it, that Aram and himself, in their way to the village lingered a little behind the rest, and that their conversation was thus, for a few minutes, not altogether general.
"Is it I, Mr. Aram?" said the Earl smiling, "or is it Fate that has made you a convert? The last time we sagely and quietly conferred together, you contended that the more the circle of existence was contracted, the more we clung to a state of pure and all self-dependent intellect, the greater our chance of happiness. Thus you denied that we were rendered happier by our luxuries, by our ambition, or by our affections. Love and its ties were banished from your solitary Utopia. And you a.s.serted that the true wisdom of life lay solely in the cultivation--not of our feelings, but our faculties. You know, I held a different doctrine: and it is with the natural triumph of a hostile partizan, that I hear you are about to relinquish the practice of one of your dogmas;--in consequence, may I hope, of having forsworn the theory?"
"Not so, my Lord," answered Aram, colouring slightly; "my weakness only proves that my theory is difficult,--not that it is wrong. I still venture to think it true. More pain than pleasure is occasioned us by others--banish others, and you are necessarily the gainer. Mental activity and moral quietude are the two states which, were they perfected and united, would const.i.tute perfect happiness. It is such a union which const.i.tutes all we imagine of Heaven, or conceive of the majestic felicity of a G.o.d."
"Yet, while you are on earth you will be (believe me) happier in the state you are about to choose," said the Earl. "Who could look at that enchanting face (the speaker directed his eyes towards Madeline) and not feel that it gave a pledge of happiness that could not be broken?"
It was not in the nature of Aram to like any allusion to himself, and still less to his affections: he turned aside his head, and remained silent: the wary Earl discovered his indiscretion immediately.
"But let us put aside individual cases," said he,--"the meum and the tuum forbid all argument:--and confess, that there is for the majority of human beings a greater happiness in love than in the sublime state of pa.s.sionless intellect to which you would so chillingly exalt us. Has not Cicero said wisely, that we ought no more to subject too slavishly our affections, than to elevate them too imperiously into our masters? Neque se nimium erigere, nec subjacere serviliter."
"Cicero loved philosophizing better than philosophy," said Aram, coldly; "but surely, my Lord, the affections give us pain as well as pleasure.
The doubt, the dread, the restlessness of love,--surely these prevent the pa.s.sion from const.i.tuting a happy state of mind; to me one knowledge alone seems sufficient to embitter all its enjoyments,--the knowledge that the object beloved must die. What a perpetuity of fear that knowledge creates! The avalanche that may crush us depends upon a single breath!"
"Is not that too refined a sentiment? Custom surely blunts us to every chance, every danger, that may happen to us hourly. Were the avalanche over you for a day,--I grant your state of torture,--but had an avalanche rested over you for years, and not yet fallen, you would forget that it could ever fall; you would eat, sleep, and make love, as if it were not!"
"Ha! my Lord, you say well--you say well," said Aram, with a marked change of countenance; and, quickening his pace, he joined Lester"s side, and the thread of the previous conversation was broken off.
The Earl afterwards, in walking through the gardens (an excursion which he proposed himself, for he was somewhat of an horticulturist), took an opportunity to renew the subject.
"You will pardon me," said he, "but I cannot convince myself that man would be happier were he without emotions; and that to enjoy life he should be solely dependant on himself!"
"Yet it seems to me," said Aram, "a truth easy of proof; if we love, we place our happiness in others. The moment we place our happiness in others, comes uncertainty, but uncertainty is the bane of happiness.
Children are the source of anxiety to their parents;--his mistress to the lover. Change, accident, death, all menace us in each person whom we regard. Every new tie opens new channels by which grief can invade us; but, you will say, by which joy also can flow in;--granted! But in human life is there not more grief than joy? What is it that renders the balance even? What makes the staple of our happiness,--endearing to us the life at which we should otherwise repine? It is the mere pa.s.sive, yet stirring, consciousness of life itself!--of the sun and the air of the physical being; but this consciousness every emotion disturbs. Yet could you add to its tranquillity an excitement that never exhausts itself,--that becomes refreshed, not sated, with every new possession, then you would obtain happiness. There is only one excitement of this divine order,--that of intellectual culture. Behold now my theory!
Examine it--it contains no flaw. But if," renewed Aram, after a pause, "a man is subject to fate solely in himself, not in others, he soon hardens his mind against all fear, and prepares it for all events.
A little philosophy enables him to bear bodily pain, or the common infirmities of flesh: by a philosophy somewhat deeper, he can conquer the ordinary reverses of fortune, the dread of shame, and the last calamity of death. But what philosophy could ever thoroughly console him for the ingrat.i.tude of a friend, the worthlessness of a child, the death of a mistress? Hence, only when he stands alone, can a man"s soul say to Fate, "I defy thee.""
"You think then," said the Earl, reluctantly diverting the conversation into a new channel "that in the pursuit of knowledge lies our only active road to real happiness. Yet here how eternal must be the disappointments even of the most successful! Does not Boyle tell us of a man who, after devoting his whole life to the study of one mineral, confessed himself, at last, ignorant of all its properties?"
"Had the object of his study been himself, and not the mineral, he would not have been so unsuccessful a student," said Aram, smiling. "Yet,"
added he, in a graver tone, "we do indeed cleave the vast heaven of Truth with a weak and crippled wing: and often we are appalled in our way by a dread sense of the immensity around us, and of the inadequacy of our own strength. But there is a rapture in the breath of the pure and difficult air, and in the progress by which we compa.s.s earth, the while we draw nearer to the stars,--that again exalts us beyond ourselves, and reconciles the true student unto all things,--even to the hardest of them all,--the conviction how feebly our performance can ever imitate the grandeur of our ambition! As you see the spark fly upward,--sometimes not falling to earth till it be dark and quenched,--thus soars, whither it recks not, so that the direction be above, the luminous spirit of him who aspires to Truth; nor will it back to the vile and heavy clay from which it sprang, until the light which bore it upward be no more!"
CHAPTER IV.
A DEEPER EXAMINATION INTO THE STUDENT"S HEART.--THE VISIT TO THE CASTLE.--PHILOSOPHY PUT TO THE TRIAL.
I weigh not fortune"s frown or smile, I joy not much in earthly joys, I seek not state, I seek not stile, I am not fond of fancy"s toys; I rest so pleased with what I have, I wish no more, no more I crave.
--Joshua Sylvester.
The reader must pardon me, if I somewhat clog his interest in my tale by the brief conversations I have given, and must for a short while cast myself on his indulgence and renew. It is not only the history of his life, but the character and tone of Aram"s mind, that I wish to stamp upon my page. Fortunately, however, the path my story a.s.sumes is of such a nature, that in order to effect this object, I shall never have to desert, and scarcely again even to linger by, the way.
Every one knows the magnificent moral of Goethe"s "Faust!" Every one knows that sublime discontent--that chafing at the bounds of human knowledge--that yearning for the intellectual Paradise beyond, which "the sworded angel" forbids us to approach--that daring, yet sorrowful state of mind--that sense of defeat, even in conquest, which Goethe has embodied,--a picture of the loftiest grief of which the soul is capable, and which may remind us of the profound and august melancholy which the Great Sculptor breathed into the repose of the n.o.blest of mythological heroes, when he represented the G.o.d resting after his labours, as if more convinced of their vanity than elated with their extent!
In this portrait, the grandeur of which the wild scenes that follow in the drama we refer to, do not (strangely wonderful as they are) perhaps altogether sustain, Goethe has bequeathed to the gaze of a calmer and more practical posterity, the burning and restless spirit--the feverish desire for knowledge more vague than useful, which characterised the exact epoch in the intellectual history of Germany, in which the poem was inspired and produced.
At these bitter waters, the Marah of the streams of Wisdom, the soul of the man whom we have made the hero of these pages, had also, and not lightly, quaffed. The properties of a mind, more calm and stern than belonged to the visionaries of the Hartz and the Danube, might indeed have preserved him from that thirst after the impossibilities of knowledge, which gives so peculiar a romance, not only to the poetry, but the philosophy of the German people. But if he rejected the superst.i.tions, he did not also reject the bewilderments of the mind. He loved to plunge into the dark and metaphysical subtleties which human genius has called daringly forth from the realities of things:--
"To spin
A shroud of thought, to hide him from the sun
Of this familiar life, which seems to be,
But is not--or is but quaint mockery
Of all we would believe;--or sadly blame
The jarring and inexplicable frame
Of this wrong world: and then anatomize
The purposes and thoughts of man, whose eyes
Were closed in distant years; or widely guess
The issue of the earth"s great business,
When we shall be, as we no longer are,
Like babbling gossips, safe, who hear the war
Of winds, and sigh!--but tremble not!"
Much in him was a type, or rather forerunner, of the intellectual spirit that broke forth when we were children, among our countrymen, and is now slowly dying away amidst the loud events and absorbing struggles of the awakening world. But in one respect he stood aloof from all his tribe--in his hard indifference to worldly ambition, and his contempt of fame. As some sages have seemed to think the universe a dream, and self the only reality, so in his austere and collected reliance upon his own mind--the gathering in, as it were, of his resources, he appeared to consider the pomps of the world as shadows, and the life of his own spirit the only substance. He had built a city and a tower within the Shinar of his own heart, whence he might look forth, unscathed and unmoved, upon the deluge that broke over the rest of earth.
Only in one instance, and that, as we have seen, after much struggle, he had given way to the emotions that agitate his kind, and had surrendered himself to the dominion of another. This was against his theories--but what theories ever resist love? In yielding, however, thus far, he seemed more on his guard than ever against a broader encroachment. He had admitted one "fair spirit" for his "minister," but it was only with a deeper fervour to invoke "the desert" as "his dwelling-place." Thus, when the Earl, who, like most practical judges of mankind, loved to apply to each individual the motives that actuate the ma.s.s, and who only unwillingly, and somewhat sceptically, a.s.sented to the exceptions, and was driven to search for peculiar clues to the eccentric instance,--finding, to his secret triumph, that Aram had admitted one intruding emotion into his boasted circle of indifference, imagined that he should easily induce him (the spell once broken) to receive another, he was surprised and puzzled to discover himself in the wrong.