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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2182-0.txt b/2182-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff9fb06 --- /dev/null +++ b/2182-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8480 @@ +Project Gutenberg’s The Marble Faun, Volume II., by Nathaniel Hawthorne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Marble Faun, Volume II. + The Romance of Monte Beni + +Author: Nathaniel Hawthorne + +Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #2182] +Last Updated: December 15, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARBLE FAUN, VOLUME II. *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Pullen and David Widger + + + + + +THE MARBLE FAUN, + +or The Romance of Monte Beni + +BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE + + +Volume II. + +In Two Volumes + + + + +Contents: + + Volume I + + I MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + II THE FAUN + III SUBTERRANEAN REMINISCENCES + IV THE SPECTRE OF THE CATACOMB + V MIRIAM’S STUDIO + VI THE VIRGIN’S SHRINE + VII BEATRICE + VIII THE SUBURBAN VILLA + IX THE FAUN AND NYMPH + X THE SYLVAN DANCE + XI FRAGMENTARY SENTENCES + XII A STROLL ON THE PINCIAN + XIII A SCULPTOR’S STUDIO + XIV CLEOPATRA + XV AN AESTHETIC COMPANY + XVI A MOONLIGHT RAMBLE + XVII MIRIAM’S TROUBLE + XVIII ON THE EDGE OF A PRECIPICE + XIX THE FAUN’S TRANSFORMATION + XX THE BURIAL CHANT + XXI THE DEAD CAPUCHIN + XXII THE MEDICI GARDENS + XXIII MIRIAM AND HILDA + + + Volume II + + XXIV THE TOWER AMONG THE APENNINES + XXV SUNSHINE + XXVI THE PEDIGREE OF MONTE BENI + XXVII MYTHS + XXVIII THE OWL TOWER + XXIX ON THE BATTLEMENTS + XXX DONATELLO’S BUST + XXXI THE MARBLE SALOON + XXXII SCENES BY THE WAY + XXXIII PICTURED WINDOWS + XXXIV MARKET-DAY IN PERUGIA + XXXV THE BRONZE PONTIFF’S BENEDICTION + XXXVI HILDA’S TOWER + XXXVII THE EMPTINESS OF PICTURE GALLERIES + XXXVIII ALTARS AND INCENSE + XXXIX THE WORLD’S CATHEDRAL + XL HILDA AND A FRIEND + XLI SNOWDROPS AND MAIDENLY DELIGHTS + XLII REMINISCENCES OF MIRIAM + XLIII THE EXTINCTION OF A LAMP + XLIV THE DESERTED SHRINE + XLV THE FLIGHT OF HILDA’S DOVES + XLVI A WALK ON THE CAMPAGNA + XLVII THE PEASANT AND CONTADINA + XLVIII A SCENE IN THE CORSO + XLIX A FROLIC OF THE CARNIVAL + L MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + + + + +THE MARBLE FAUN + +Volume II + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +THE TOWER AMONG THE APENNINES + + +It was in June that the sculptor, Kenyon, arrived on horseback at the +gate of an ancient country house (which, from some of its features, +might almost be called a castle) situated in a part of Tuscany somewhat +remote from the ordinary track of tourists. Thither we must now +accompany him, and endeavor to make our story flow onward, like a +streamlet, past a gray tower that rises on the hillside, overlooking a +spacious valley, which is set in the grand framework of the Apennines. + +The sculptor had left Rome with the retreating tide of foreign +residents. For, as summer approaches, the Niobe of Nations is made to +bewail anew, and doubtless with sincerity, the loss of that large +part of her population which she derives from other lands, and on whom +depends much of whatever remnant of prosperity she still enjoys. Rome, +at this season, is pervaded and overhung with atmospheric terrors, and +insulated within a charmed and deadly circle. The crowd of wandering +tourists betake themselves to Switzerland, to the Rhine, or, from this +central home of the world, to their native homes in England or America, +which they are apt thenceforward to look upon as provincial, after +once having yielded to the spell of the Eternal City. The artist, who +contemplates an indefinite succession of winters in this home of art +(though his first thought was merely to improve himself by a brief +visit), goes forth, in the summer time, to sketch scenery and costume +among the Tuscan hills, and pour, if he can, the purple air of Italy +over his canvas. He studies the old schools of art in the mountain towns +where they were born, and where they are still to be seen in the faded +frescos of Giotto and Cimabue, on the walls of many a church, or in +the dark chapels, in which the sacristan draws aside the veil from a +treasured picture of Perugino. Thence, the happy painter goes to walk +the long, bright galleries of Florence, or to steal glowing colors from +the miraculous works, which he finds in a score of Venetian palaces. +Such summers as these, spent amid whatever is exquisite in art, or wild +and picturesque in nature, may not inadequately repay him for the chill +neglect and disappointment through which he has probably languished, in +his Roman winter. This sunny, shadowy, breezy, wandering life, in which +he seeks for beauty as his treasure, and gathers for his winter’s honey +what is but a passing fragrance to all other men, is worth living for, +come afterwards what may. Even if he die unrecognized, the artist has +had his share of enjoyment and success. + +Kenyon had seen, at a distance of many miles, the old villa or castle +towards which his journey lay, looking from its height over a broad +expanse of valley. As he drew nearer, however, it had been hidden among +the inequalities of the hillside, until the winding road brought him +almost to the iron gateway. The sculptor found this substantial barrier +fastened with lock and bolt. There was no bell, nor other instrument +of sound; and, after summoning the invisible garrison with his voice, +instead of a trumpet, he had leisure to take a glance at the exterior of +the fortress. + +About thirty yards within the gateway rose a square tower, lofty +enough to be a very prominent object in the landscape, and more than +sufficiently massive in proportion to its height. Its antiquity was +evidently such that, in a climate of more abundant moisture, the ivy +would have mantled it from head to foot in a garment that might, by this +time, have been centuries old, though ever new. In the dry Italian air, +however, Nature had only so far adopted this old pile of stonework as to +cover almost every hand’s-breadth of it with close-clinging lichens +and yellow moss; and the immemorial growth of these kindly productions +rendered the general hue of the tower soft and venerable, and took away +the aspect of nakedness which would have made its age drearier than now. + +Up and down the height of the tower were scattered three or four +windows, the lower ones grated with iron bars, the upper ones vacant +both of window frames and glass. Besides these larger openings, there +were several loopholes and little square apertures, which might be +supposed to light the staircase, that doubtless climbed the +interior towards the battlemented and machicolated summit. With this +last-mentioned warlike garniture upon its stern old head and brow, +the tower seemed evidently a stronghold of times long past. Many a +crossbowman had shot his shafts from those windows and loop-holes, and +from the vantage height of those gray battlements; many a flight of +arrows, too, had hit all round about the embrasures above, or the +apertures below, where the helmet of a defender had momentarily +glimmered. On festal nights, moreover, a hundred lamps had often gleamed +afar over the valley, suspended from the iron hooks that were ranged for +the purpose beneath the battlements and every window. + +Connected with the tower, and extending behind it, there seemed to be +a very spacious residence, chiefly of more modern date. It perhaps owed +much of its fresher appearance, however, to a coat of stucco and +yellow wash, which is a sort of renovation very much in vogue with the +Italians. Kenyon noticed over a doorway, in the portion of the edifice +immediately adjacent to the tower, a cross, which, with a bell suspended +above the roof, indicated that this was a consecrated precinct, and the +chapel of the mansion. + +Meanwhile, the hot sun so incommoded the unsheltered traveller, that he +shouted forth another impatient summons. Happening, at the same moment, +to look upward, he saw a figure leaning from an embrasure of the +battlements, and gazing down at him. + +“Ho, Signore Count!” cried the sculptor, waving his straw hat, for he +recognized the face, after a moment’s doubt. “This is a warm reception, +truly! Pray bid your porter let me in, before the sun shrivels me quite +into a cinder.” + +“I will come myself,” responded Donatello, flinging down his voice out +of the clouds, as it were; “old Tomaso and old Stella are both asleep, +no doubt, and the rest of the people are in the vineyard. But I have +expected you, and you are welcome!” + +The young Count--as perhaps we had better designate him in his ancestral +tower--vanished from the battlements; and Kenyon saw his figure +appear successively at each of the windows, as he descended. On every +reappearance, he turned his face towards the sculptor and gave a nod and +smile; for a kindly impulse prompted him thus to assure his visitor of a +welcome, after keeping him so long at an inhospitable threshold. + +Kenyon, however (naturally and professionally expert at reading the +expression of the human countenance), had a vague sense that this was +not the young friend whom he had known so familiarly in Rome; not the +sylvan and untutored youth, whom Miriam, Hilda, and himself had liked, +laughed at, and sported with; not the Donatello whose identity they had +so playfully mixed up with that of the Faun of Praxiteles. + +Finally, when his host had emerged from a side portal of the mansion, +and approached the gateway, the traveller still felt that there was +something lost, or something gained (he hardly knew which), that set the +Donatello of to-day irreconcilably at odds with him of yesterday. His +very gait showed it, in a certain gravity, a weight and measure of step, +that had nothing in common with the irregular buoyancy which used to +distinguish him. His face was paler and thinner, and the lips less full +and less apart. + +“I have looked for you a long while,” said Donatello; and, though his +voice sounded differently, and cut out its words more sharply than had +been its wont, still there was a smile shining on his face, that, for +the moment, quite brought back the Faun. “I shall be more cheerful, +perhaps, now that you have come. It is very solitary here.” + +“I have come slowly along, often lingering, often turning aside,” + replied Kenyon; “for I found a great deal to interest me in the +mediaeval sculpture hidden away in the churches hereabouts. An artist, +whether painter or sculptor, may be pardoned for loitering through such +a region. But what a fine old tower! Its tall front is like a page of +black letter, taken from the history of the Italian republics.” + +“I know little or nothing of its history,” said the Count, glancing +upward at the battlements, where he had just been standing. “But I thank +my forefathers for building it so high. I like the windy summit better +than the world below, and spend much of my time there, nowadays.” + +“It is a pity you are not a star-gazer,” observed Kenyon, also looking +up. “It is higher than Galileo’s tower, which I saw, a week or two ago, +outside of the walls of Florence.” + +“A star-gazer? I am one,” replied Donatello. “I sleep in the tower, +and often watch very late on the battlements. There is a dismal old +staircase to climb, however, before reaching the top, and a succession +of dismal chambers, from story to story. Some of them were prison +chambers in times past, as old Tomaso will tell you.” + +The repugnance intimated in his tone at the idea of this gloomy +staircase and these ghostly, dimly lighted rooms, reminded Kenyon of the +original Donatello, much more than his present custom of midnight vigils +on the battlements. + +“I shall be glad to share your watch,” said the guest; “especially by +moonlight. The prospect of this broad valley must be very fine. But I +was not aware, my friend, that these were your country habits. I have +fancied you in a sort of Arcadian life, tasting rich figs, and squeezing +the juice out of the sunniest grapes, and sleeping soundly all night, +after a day of simple pleasures.” + +“I may have known such a life, when I was younger,” answered the Count +gravely. “I am not a boy now. Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow +behind.” + +The sculptor could not but smile at the triteness of the remark, which, +nevertheless, had a kind of originality as coming from Donatello. He had +thought it out from his own experience, and perhaps considered himself +as communicating a new truth to mankind. + +They were now advancing up the courtyard; and the long extent of the +villa, with its iron-barred lower windows and balconied upper ones, +became visible, stretching back towards a grove of trees. + +“At some period of your family history,” observed Kenyon, “the Counts +of Monte Beni must have led a patriarchal life in this vast house. A +great-grandsire and all his descendants might find ample verge here, and +with space, too, for each separate brood of little ones to play within +its own precincts. Is your present household a large one?” + +“Only myself,” answered Donatello, “and Tomaso, who has been butler +since my grandfather’s time, and old Stella, who goes sweeping and +dusting about the chambers, and Girolamo, the cook, who has but an idle +life of it. He shall send you up a chicken forthwith. But, first of all, +I must summon one of the contadini from the farmhouse yonder, to take +your horse to the stable.” + +Accordingly, the young Count shouted again, and with such effect that, +after several repetitions of the outcry, an old gray woman protruded +her head and a broom-handle from a chamber window; the venerable butler +emerged from a recess in the side of the house, where was a well, or +reservoir, in which he had been cleansing a small wine cask; and +a sunburnt contadino, in his shirt-sleeves, showed himself on the +outskirts of the vineyard, with some kind of a farming tool in his +hand. Donatello found employment for all these retainers in providing +accommodation for his guest and steed, and then ushered the sculptor +into the vestibule of the house. + +It was a square and lofty entrance-room, which, by the solidity of its +construction, might have been an Etruscan tomb, being paved and walled +with heavy blocks of stone, and vaulted almost as massively overhead. +On two sides there were doors, opening into long suites of anterooms +and saloons; on the third side, a stone staircase of spacious breadth, +ascending, by dignified degrees and with wide resting-places, to another +floor of similar extent. Through one of the doors, which was ajar, +Kenyon beheld an almost interminable vista of apartments, opening one +beyond the other, and reminding him of the hundred rooms in Blue Beard’s +castle, or the countless halls in some palace of the Arabian Nights. + +It must have been a numerous family, indeed, that could ever have +sufficed to people with human life so large an abode as this, and impart +social warmth to such a wide world within doors. The sculptor confessed +to himself, that Donatello could allege reason enough for growing +melancholy, having only his own personality to vivify it all. + +“How a woman’s face would brighten it up!” he ejaculated, not intending +to be overheard. + +But, glancing at Donatello, he saw a stern and sorrowful look in his +eyes, which altered his youthful face as if it had seen thirty years of +trouble; and, at the same moment, old Stella showed herself through one +of the doorways, as the only representative of her sex at Monte Beni. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +SUNSHINE + + +“Come,” said the Count, “I see you already find the old house dismal. +So do I, indeed! And yet it was a cheerful place in my boyhood. But, you +see, in my father’s days (and the same was true of all my endless line +of grandfathers, as I have heard), there used to be uncles, aunts, and +all manner of kindred, dwelling together as one family. They were +a merry and kindly race of people, for the most part, and kept one +another’s hearts warm.” + +“Two hearts might be enough for warmth,” observed the sculptor, “even in +so large a house as this. One solitary heart, it is true, may be apt to +shiver a little. But, I trust, my friend, that the genial blood of your +race still flows in many veins besides your own?” + +“I am the last,” said Donatello gloomily. “They have all vanished from +me, since my childhood. Old Tomaso will tell you that the air of Monte +Beni is not so favorable to length of days as it used to be. But that is +not the secret of the quick extinction of my kindred.” + +“Then you are aware of a more satisfactory reason?” suggested Kenyon. + +“I thought of one, the other night, while I was gazing at the stars,” + answered Donatello; “but, pardon me, I do not mean to tell it. One +cause, however, of the longer and healthier life of my forefathers was, +that they had many pleasant customs, and means of making themselves +glad, and their guests and friends along with them. Nowadays we have but +one!” + +“And what is that?” asked the sculptor. + +“You shall see!” said his young host. + +By this time, he had ushered the sculptor into one of the numberless +saloons; and, calling for refreshment, old Stella placed a cold fowl +upon the table, and quickly followed it with a savory omelet, which +Girolamo had lost no time in preparing. She also brought some cherries, +plums, and apricots, and a plate full of particularly delicate figs, of +last year’s growth. The butler showing his white head at the door, his +master beckoned to him. “Tomaso, bring some Sunshine!” said he. The +readiest method of obeying this order, one might suppose, would have +been to fling wide the green window-blinds, and let the glow of the +summer noon into the carefully shaded room. But, at Monte Beni, with +provident caution against the wintry days, when there is little +sunshine, and the rainy ones, when there is none, it was the hereditary +custom to keep their Sunshine stored away in the cellar. Old Tomaso +quickly produced some of it in a small, straw-covered flask, out of +which he extracted the cork, and inserted a little cotton wool, to +absorb the olive oil that kept the precious liquid from the air. + +“This is a wine,” observed the Count, “the secret of making which has +been kept in our family for centuries upon centuries; nor would it avail +any man to steal the secret, unless he could also steal the vineyard, in +which alone the Monte Beni grape can be produced. There is little else +left me, save that patch of vines. Taste some of their juice, and tell +me whether it is worthy to be called Sunshine! for that is its name.” + “A glorious name, too!” cried the sculptor. “Taste it,” said Donatello, +filling his friend’s glass, and pouring likewise a little into his own. +“But first smell its fragrance; for the wine is very lavish of it, and +will scatter it all abroad.” + +“Ah, how exquisite!” said Kenyon. “No other wine has a bouquet like +this. The flavor must be rare, indeed, if it fulfill the promise of this +fragrance, which is like the airy sweetness of youthful hopes, that no +realities will ever satisfy!” + +This invaluable liquor was of a pale golden hue, like other of the +rarest Italian wines, and, if carelessly and irreligiously quaffed, +might have been mistaken for a very fine sort of champagne. It was not, +however, an effervescing wine, although its delicate piquancy produced +a somewhat similar effect upon the palate. Sipping, the guest longed +to sip again; but the wine demanded so deliberate a pause, in order to +detect the hidden peculiarities and subtile exquisiteness of its flavor, +that to drink it was really more a moral than a physical enjoyment. +There was a deliciousness in it that eluded analysis, and--like whatever +else is superlatively good--was perhaps better appreciated in the memory +than by present consciousness. + +One of its most ethereal charms lay in the transitory life of the wine’s +richest qualities; for, while it required a certain leisure and delay, +yet, if you lingered too long upon the draught, it became disenchanted +both of its fragrance and its flavor. + +The lustre should not be forgotten, among the other admirable endowments +of the Monte Beni wine; for, as it stood in Kenyon’s glass, a little +circle of light glowed on the table round about it, as if it were really +so much golden sunshine. + +“I feel myself a better man for that ethereal potation,” observed the +sculptor. “The finest Orvieto, or that famous wine, the Est Est Est of +Montefiascone, is vulgar in comparison. This is surely the wine of the +Golden Age, such as Bacchus himself first taught mankind to press from +the choicest of his grapes. My dear Count, why is it not illustrious? +The pale, liquid gold, in every such flask as that, might be solidified +into golden scudi, and would quickly make you a millionaire!” + +Tomaso, the old butler, who was standing by the table, and enjoying +the praises of the wine quite as much as if bestowed upon himself, made +answer,--“We have a tradition, Signore,” said he, “that this rare wine +of our vineyard would lose all its wonderful qualities, if any of it +were sent to market. The Counts of Monte Beni have never parted with a +single flask of it for gold. At their banquets, in the olden time, they +have entertained princes, cardinals, and once an emperor and once a +pope, with this delicious wine, and always, even to this day, it has +been their custom to let it flow freely, when those whom they love and +honor sit at the board. But the grand duke himself could not drink that +wine, except it were under this very roof!” + +“What you tell me, my good friend,” replied Kenyon, “makes me venerate +the Sunshine of Monte Beni even more abundantly than before. As I +understand you, it is a sort of consecrated juice, and symbolizes the +holy virtues of hospitality and social kindness?” + +“Why, partly so, Signore,” said the old butler, with a shrewd twinkle +in his eye; “but, to speak out all the truth, there is another excellent +reason why neither a cask nor a flask of our precious vintage should +ever be sent to market. The wine, Signore, is so fond of its native +home, that a transportation of even a few miles turns it quite sour. And +yet it is a wine that keeps well in the cellar, underneath this floor, +and gathers fragrance, flavor, and brightness, in its dark dungeon. That +very flask of Sunshine, now, has kept itself for you, sir guest (as a +maid reserves her sweetness till her lover comes for it), ever since a +merry vintage-time, when the Signore Count here was a boy!” + +“You must not wait for Tomaso to end his discourse about the wine, +before drinking off your glass,” observed Donatello. “When once the +flask is uncorked, its finest qualities lose little time in making their +escape. I doubt whether your last sip will be quite so delicious as you +found the first.” + +And, in truth, the sculptor fancied that the Sunshine became almost +imperceptibly clouded, as he approached the bottom of the flask. The +effect of the wine, however, was a gentle exhilaration, which did not so +speedily pass away. + +Being thus refreshed, Kenyon looked around him at the antique saloon +in which they sat. It was constructed in a most ponderous style, with +a stone floor, on which heavy pilasters were planted against the wall, +supporting arches that crossed one another in the vaulted ceiling. The +upright walls, as well as the compartments of the roof, were completely +Covered with frescos, which doubtless had been brilliant when first +executed, and perhaps for generations afterwards. The designs were of +a festive and joyous character, representing Arcadian scenes, where +nymphs, fauns, and satyrs disported themselves among mortal youths and +maidens; and Pan, and the god of wine, and he of sunshine and music, +disdained not to brighten some sylvan merry-making with the scarcely +veiled glory of their presence. A wreath of dancing figures, in +admirable variety of shape and motion, was festooned quite round the +cornice of the room. + +In its first splendor, the saloon must have presented an aspect both +gorgeous and enlivening; for it invested some of the cheerfullest ideas +and emotions of which the human mind is susceptible with the external +reality of beautiful form, and rich, harmonious glow and variety of +color. But the frescos were now very ancient. They had been rubbed and +scrubbed by old Stein and many a predecessor, and had been defaced in +one spot, and retouched in another, and had peeled from the wall in +patches, and had hidden some of their brightest portions under dreary +dust, till the joyousness had quite vanished out of them all. It was +often difficult to puzzle out the design; and even where it was more +readily intelligible, the figures showed like the ghosts of dead and +buried joys,--the closer their resemblance to the happy past, the +gloomier now. For it is thus, that with only an inconsiderable change, +the gladdest objects and existences become the saddest; hope fading +into disappointment; joy darkening into grief, and festal splendor into +funereal duskiness; and all evolving, as their moral, a grim identity +between gay things and sorrowful ones. Only give them a little time, and +they turn out to be just alike! + +“There has been much festivity in this saloon, if I may judge by the +character of its frescos,” remarked Kenyon, whose spirits were still +upheld by the mild potency of the Monte Beni wine. “Your forefathers, +my dear Count, must have been joyous fellows, keeping up the vintage +merriment throughout the year. It does me good to think of them +gladdening the hearts of men and women, with their wine of Sunshine, +even in the Iron Age, as Pan and Bacchus, whom we see yonder, did in the +Golden one!” + +“Yes; there have been merry times in the banquet hall of Monte Beni, +even within my own remembrance,” replied Donatello, looking gravely +at the painted walls. “It was meant for mirth, as you see; and when +I brought my own cheerfulness into the saloon, these frescos looked +cheerful too. But, methinks, they have all faded since I saw them last.” + +“It would be a good idea,” said the sculptor, falling into his +companion’s vein, and helping him out with an illustration which +Donatello himself could not have put into shape, “to convert this saloon +into a chapel; and when the priest tells his hearers of the instability +of earthly joys, and would show how drearily they vanish, he may point +to these pictures, that were so joyous and are so dismal. He could not +illustrate his theme so aptly in any other way.” + +“True, indeed,” answered the Count, his former simplicity strangely +mixing itself up with ah experience that had changed him; “and yonder, +where the minstrels used to stand, the altar shall be placed. A sinful +man might do all the more effective penance in this old banquet hall.” + +“But I should regret to have suggested so ungenial a transformation in +your hospitable saloon,” continued Kenyon, duly noting the change in +Donatello’s characteristics. “You startle me, my friend, by so ascetic a +design! It would hardly have entered your head, when we first met. Pray +do not,--if I may take the freedom of a somewhat elder man to advise +you,” added he, smiling,--“pray do not, under a notion of improvement, +take upon yourself to be sombre, thoughtful, and penitential, like all +the rest of us.” + +Donatello made no answer, but sat awhile, appearing to follow with +his eyes one of the figures, which was repeated many times over in the +groups upon the walls and ceiling. It formed the principal link of an +allegory, by which (as is often the case in such pictorial designs) +the whole series of frescos were bound together, but which it would be +impossible, or, at least, very wearisome, to unravel. The sculptor’s +eyes took a similar direction, and soon began to trace through the +vicissitudes,--once gay, now sombre,--in which the old artist had +involved it, the same individual figure. He fancied a resemblance in it +to Donatello himself; and it put him in mind of one of the purposes with +which he had come to Monte Beni. + +“My dear Count,” said he, “I have a proposal to make. You must let me +employ a little of my leisure in modelling your bust. You remember what +a striking resemblance we all of us--Hilda, Miriam, and I--found between +your features and those of the Faun of Praxiteles. Then, it seemed an +identity; but now that I know your face better, the likeness is far less +apparent. Your head in marble would be a treasure to me. Shall I have +it?” + +“I have a weakness which I fear I cannot overcome,” replied the Count, +turning away his face. “It troubles me to be looked at steadfastly.” + +“I have observed it since we have been sitting here, though never +before,” rejoined the sculptor. “It is a kind of nervousness, I +apprehend, which, you caught in the Roman air, and which grows upon you, +in your solitary life. It need be no hindrance to my taking your bust; +for I will catch the likeness and expression by side glimpses, which +(if portrait painters and bust makers did but know it) always bring home +richer results than a broad stare.” + +“You may take me if you have the power,” said Donatello; but, even as he +spoke, he turned away his face; “and if you can see what makes me shrink +from you, you are welcome to put it in the bust. It is not my will, but +my necessity, to avoid men’s eyes. Only,” he added, with a smile which +made Kenyon doubt whether he might not as well copy the Faun as model a +new bust,--“only, you know, you must not insist on my uncovering these +ears of mine!” + +“Nay; I never should dream of such a thing,” answered the sculptor, +laughing, as the young Count shook his clustering curls. “I could not +hope to persuade you, remembering how Miriam once failed!” + +Nothing is more unaccountable than the spell that often lurks in a +spoken word. A thought may be present to the mind, so distinctly that +no utterance could make it more so; and two minds may be conscious of +the same thought, in which one or both take the profoundest interest; +but as long as it remains unspoken, their familiar talk flows quietly +over the hidden idea, as a rivulet may sparkle and dimple over something +sunken in its bed. But speak the word, and it is like bringing up a +drowned body out of the deepest pool of the rivulet, which has been +aware of the horrible secret all along, in spite of its smiling surface. + +And even so, when Kenyon chanced to make a distinct reference to +Donatello’s relations with Miriam (though the subject was already in +both their minds), a ghastly emotion rose up out of the depths of the +young Count’s heart. He trembled either with anger or terror, and +glared at the sculptor with wild eyes, like a wolf that meets you in +the forest, and hesitates whether to flee or turn to bay. But, as Kenyon +still looked calmly at him, his aspect gradually became less disturbed, +though far from resuming its former quietude. + +“You have spoken her name,” said he, at last, in an altered and +tremulous tone; “tell me, now, all that you know of her.” + +“I scarcely think that I have any later intelligence than yourself,” + answered Kenyon; “Miriam left Rome at about the time of your own +departure. Within a day or two after our last meeting at the Church of +the Capuchins, I called at her studio and found it vacant. Whither she +has gone, I cannot tell.” + +Donatello asked no further questions. + +They rose from table, and strolled together about the premises, whiling +away the afternoon with brief intervals of unsatisfactory conversation, +and many shadowy silences. The sculptor had a perception of change in +his companion,--possibly of growth and development, but certainly of +change,--which saddened him, because it took away much of the simple +grace that was the best of Donatello’s peculiarities. + +Kenyon betook himself to repose that night in a grim, old, vaulted +apartment, which, in the lapse of five or six centuries, had probably +been the birth, bridal, and death chamber of a great many generations +of the Monte Beni family. He was aroused, soon after daylight, by the +clamor of a tribe of beggars who had taken their stand in a little +rustic lane that crept beside that portion of the villa, and were +addressing their petitions to the open windows. By and by they appeared +to have received alms, and took their departure. + +“Some charitable Christian has sent those vagabonds away,” thought the +sculptor, as he resumed his interrupted nap; “who could it be? Donatello +has his own rooms in the tower; Stella, Tomaso, and the cook are a +world’s width off; and I fancied myself the only inhabitant in this part +of the house.” + +In the breadth and space which so delightfully characterize an Italian +villa, a dozen guests might have had each his suite of apartments +without infringing upon one another’s ample precincts. But, so far as +Kenyon knew, he was the only visitor beneath Donatello’s widely extended +roof. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +THE PEDIGREE OF MONTE BENI + + +From the old butler, whom he found to be a very gracious and affable +personage, Kenyon soon learned many curious particulars about the family +history and hereditary peculiarities of the Counts of Monte Beni. There +was a pedigree, the later portion of which--that is to say, for a little +more than a thousand years--a genealogist would have found delight in +tracing out, link by link, and authenticating by records and documentary +evidences. It would have been as difficult, however, to follow up the +stream of Donatello’s ancestry to its dim source, as travellers have +found it to reach the mysterious fountains of the Nile. And, far beyond +the region of definite and demonstrable fact, a romancer might have +strayed into a region of old poetry, where the rich soil, so long +uncultivated and untrodden, had lapsed into nearly its primeval state +of wilderness. Among those antique paths, now overgrown with tangled and +riotous vegetation, the wanderer must needs follow his own guidance, and +arrive nowhither at last. + +The race of Monte Beni, beyond a doubt, was one of the oldest in Italy, +where families appear to survive at least, if not to flourish, on their +half-decayed roots, oftener than in England or France. It came down in +a broad track from the Middle Ages; but, at epochs anterior to those, +it was distinctly visible in the gloom of the period before chivalry put +forth its flower; and further still, we are almost afraid to say, it was +seen, though with a fainter and wavering course, in the early morn of +Christendom, when the Roman Empire had hardly begun to show symptoms of +decline. At that venerable distance, the heralds gave up the lineage in +despair. + +But where written record left the genealogy of Monte Beni, tradition +took it up, and carried it without dread or shame beyond the Imperial +ages into the times of the Roman republic; beyond those, again, into the +epoch of kingly rule. Nor even so remotely among the mossy centuries did +it pause, but strayed onward into that gray antiquity of which there +is no token left, save its cavernous tombs, and a few bronzes, and some +quaintly wrought ornaments of gold, and gems with mystic figures and +inscriptions. There, or thereabouts, the line was supposed to have had +its origin in the sylvan life of Etruria, while Italy was yet guiltless +of Rome. + +Of course, as we regret to say, the earlier and very much the larger +portion of this respectable descent--and the same is true of many +briefer pedigrees--must be looked upon as altogether mythical. Still, +it threw a romantic interest around the unquestionable antiquity of the +Monte Beni family, and over that tract of their own vines and fig-trees +beneath the shade of which they had unquestionably dwelt for immemorial +ages. And there they had laid the foundations of their tower, so long +ago that one half of its height was said to be sunken under the surface +and to hide subterranean chambers which once were cheerful with the +olden sunshine. + +One story, or myth, that had mixed itself up with their mouldy +genealogy, interested the sculptor by its wild, and perhaps grotesque, +yet not unfascinating peculiarity. He caught at it the more eagerly, +as it afforded a shadowy and whimsical semblance of explanation for the +likeness which he, with Miriam and Hilda, had seen or fancied between +Donatello and the Faun of Praxiteles. + +The Monte Beni family, as this legend averred, drew their origin +from the Pelasgic race, who peopled Italy in times that may be called +prehistoric. It was the same noble breed of men, of Asiatic birth, +that settled in Greece; the same happy and poetic kindred who dwelt in +Arcadia, and--whether they ever lived such life or not--enriched the +world with dreams, at least, and fables, lovely, if unsubstantial, of a +Golden Age. In those delicious times, when deities and demigods appeared +familiarly on earth, mingling with its inhabitants as friend with +friend,--when nymphs, satyrs, and the whole train of classic faith or +fable hardly took pains to hide themselves in the primeval woods,--at +that auspicious period the lineage of Monte Beni had its rise. Its +progenitor was a being not altogether human, yet partaking so largely of +the gentlest human qualities, as to be neither awful nor shocking to +the imagination. A sylvan creature, native among the woods, had loved +a mortal maiden, and--perhaps by kindness, and the subtile courtesies +which love might teach to his simplicity, or possibly by a ruder +wooing--had won her to his haunts. In due time he gained her womanly +affection; and, making their bridal bower, for aught we know, in the +hollow of a great tree, the pair spent a happy wedded life in that +ancient neighborhood where now stood Donatello’s tower. + +From this union sprang a vigorous progeny that took its place +unquestioned among human families. In that age, however, and long +afterwards, it showed the ineffaceable lineaments of its wild paternity: +it was a pleasant and kindly race of men, but capable of savage +fierceness, and never quite restrainable within the trammels of social +law. They were strong, active, genial, cheerful as the sunshine, +passionate as the tornado. Their lives were rendered blissful by art +unsought harmony with nature. + +But, as centuries passed away, the Faun’s wild blood had necessarily +been attempered with constant intermixtures from the more ordinary +streams of human life. It lost many of its original qualities, and +served for the most part only to bestow an unconquerable vigor, which +kept the family from extinction, and enabled them to make their own part +good throughout the perils and rude emergencies of their interminable +descent. In the constant wars with which Italy was plagued, by the +dissensions of her petty states and republics, there was a demand for +native hardihood. + +The successive members of the Monte Beni family showed valor and policy +enough’ at all events, to keep their hereditary possessions out of the +clutch of grasping neighbors, and probably differed very little from the +other feudal barons with whom they fought and feasted. Such a degree +of conformity with the manners of the generations through which it +survived, must have been essential to the prolonged continuance of the +race. + +It is well known, however, that any hereditary peculiarity--as a +supernumerary finger, or an anomalous shape of feature, like the +Austrian lip--is wont to show itself in a family after a very wayward +fashion. It skips at its own pleasure along the line, and, latent for +half a century or so, crops out again in a great-grandson. And thus, it +was said, from a period beyond memory or record, there had ever and +anon been a descendant of the Monte Benis bearing nearly all the +characteristics that were attributed to the original founder of the +race. Some traditions even went so far as to enumerate the ears, covered +with a delicate fur, and shaped like a pointed leaf, among the proofs +of authentic descent which were seen in these favored individuals. We +appreciate the beauty of such tokens of a nearer kindred to the great +family of nature than other mortals bear; but it would be idle to ask +credit for a statement which might be deemed to partake so largely of +the grotesque. + +But it was indisputable that, once in a century or oftener, a son of +Monte Beni gathered into himself the scattered qualities of his +race, and reproduced the character that had been assigned to it from +immemorial times. Beautiful, strong, brave, kindly, sincere, of +honest impulses, and endowed with simple tastes and the love of homely +pleasures, he was believed to possess gifts by which he could associate +himself with the wild things of the forests, and with the fowls of the +air, and could feel a sympathy even with the trees; among which it was +his joy to dwell. On the other hand, there were deficiencies both of +intellect and heart, and especially, as it seemed, in the development of +the higher portion of man’s nature. These defects were less perceptible +in early youth, but showed themselves more strongly with advancing +age, when, as the animal spirits settled down upon a lower level, the +representative of the Monte Benis was apt to become sensual, addicted to +gross pleasures, heavy, unsympathizing, and insulated within the narrow +limits of a surly selfishness. + +A similar change, indeed, is no more than what we constantly observe to +take place in persons who are not careful to substitute other graces for +those which they inevitably lose along with the quick sensibility and +joyous vivacity of youth. At worst, the reigning Count of Monte Beni, +as his hair grew white, was still a jolly old fellow over his flask of +wine, the wine that Bacchus himself was fabled to have taught his sylvan +ancestor how to express, and from what choicest grapes, which would +ripen only in a certain divinely favored portion of the Monte Beni +vineyard. + +The family, be it observed, were both proud and ashamed of these +legends; but whatever part of them they might consent to incorporate +into their ancestral history, they steadily repudiated all that referred +to their one distinctive feature, the pointed and furry ears. In a great +many years past, no sober credence had been yielded to the mythical +portion of the pedigree. It might, however, be considered as typifying +some such assemblage of qualities--in this case, chiefly remarkable for +their simplicity and naturalness--as, when they reappear in successive +generations, constitute what we call family character. The sculptor +found, moreover, on the evidence of some old portraits, that the +physical features of the race had long been similar to what he now saw +them in Donatello. With accumulating years, it is true, the Monte +Beni face had a tendency to look grim and savage; and, in two or three +instances, the family pictures glared at the spectator in the eyes like +some surly animal, that had lost its good humor when it outlived its +playfulness. + +The young Count accorded his guest full liberty to investigate the +personal annals of these pictured worthies, as well as all the rest +of his progenitors; and ample materials were at hand in many chests of +worm-eaten papers and yellow parchments, that had been gathering into +larger and dustier piles ever since the dark ages. But, to confess the +truth, the information afforded by these musty documents was so much +more prosaic than what Kenyon acquired from Tomaso’s legends, that even +the superior authenticity of the former could not reconcile him to its +dullness. What especially delighted the sculptor was the analogy between +Donatello’s character, as he himself knew it, and those peculiar traits +which the old butler’s narrative assumed to have been long hereditary +in the race. He was amused at finding, too, that not only Tomaso but the +peasantry of the estate and neighboring village recognized his friend +as a genuine Monte Beni, of the original type. They seemed to cherish a +great affection for the young Count, and were full of stories about his +sportive childhood; how he had played among the little rustics, and been +at once the wildest and the sweetest of them all; and how, in his very +infancy, he had plunged into the deep pools of the streamlets and never +been drowned, and had clambered to the topmost branches of tall trees +without ever breaking his neck. No such mischance could happen to the +sylvan child because, handling all the elements of nature so fearlessly +and freely, nothing had either the power or the will to do him harm. + +He grew up, said these humble friends, the playmate not only of all +mortal kind, but of creatures of the woods; although, when Kenyon +pressed them for some particulars of this latter mode of companionship, +they could remember little more than a few anecdotes of a pet fox, which +used to growl and snap at everybody save Donatello himself. + +But they enlarged--and never were weary of the theme--upon the +blithesome effects of Donatello’s presence in his rosy childhood and +budding youth. Their hovels had always glowed like sunshine when he +entered them; so that, as the peasants expressed it, their young master +had never darkened a doorway in his life. He was the soul of vintage +festivals. While he was a mere infant, scarcely able to run alone, it +had been the custom to make him tread the winepress with his tender +little feet, if it were only to crush one cluster of the grapes. And the +grape-juice that gushed beneath his childish tread, be it ever so small +in quantity, sufficed to impart a pleasant flavor to a whole cask of +wine. The race of Monte Beni--so these rustic chroniclers assured +the sculptor--had possessed the gift from the oldest of old times of +expressing good wine from ordinary grapes, and a ravishing liquor from +the choice growth of their vineyard. + +In a word, as he listened to such tales as these, Kenyon could have +imagined that the valleys and hillsides about him were a veritable +Arcadia; and that Donatello was not merely a sylvan faun, but the genial +wine god in his very person. Making many allowances for the poetic +fancies of Italian peasants, he set it down for fact that his friend, in +a simple way and among rustic folks, had been an exceedingly delightful +fellow in his younger days. + +But the contadini sometimes added, shaking their heads and sighing, that +the young Count was sadly changed since he went to Rome. The village +girls now missed the merry smile with which he used to greet them. + +The sculptor inquired of his good friend Tomaso, whether he, too, +had noticed the shadow which was said to have recently fallen over +Donatello’s life. + +“Ah, yes, Signore!” answered the old butler, “it is even so, since +he came back from that wicked and miserable city. The world has grown +either too evil, or else too wise and sad, for such men as the old +Counts of Monte Beni used to be. His very first taste of it, as you see, +has changed and spoilt my poor young lord. There had not been a single +count in the family these hundred years or more, who was so true a Monte +Beni, of the antique stamp, as this poor signorino; and now it brings +the tears into my eyes to hear him sighing over a cup of Sunshine! Ah, +it is a sad world now!” + +“Then you think there was a merrier world once?” asked Kenyon. + +“Surely, Signore,” said Tomaso; “a merrier world, and merrier Counts of +Monte Beni to live in it! Such tales of them as I have heard, when I was +a child on my grandfather’s knee! The good old man remembered a lord of +Monte Beni--at least, he had heard of such a one, though I will not make +oath upon the holy crucifix that my grandsire lived in his time who used +to go into the woods and call pretty damsels out of the fountains, and +out of the trunks of the old trees. That merry lord was known to dance +with them a whole long summer afternoon! When shall we see such frolics +in our days?” + +“Not soon, I am afraid,” acquiesced the sculptor. “You are right, +excellent Tomaso; the world is sadder now!” + +And, in truth, while our friend smiled at these wild fables, he sighed +in the same breath to think how the once genial earth produces, in every +successive generation, fewer flowers than used to gladden the preceding +ones. Not that the modes and seeming possibilities of human enjoyment +are rarer in our refined and softened era,--on the contrary, they never +before were nearly so abundant,--but that mankind are getting so far +beyond the childhood of their race that they scorn to be happy any +longer. A simple and joyous character can find no place for itself +among the sage and sombre figures that would put his unsophisticated +cheerfulness to shame. The entire system of man’s affairs, as at present +established, is built up purposely to exclude the careless and happy +soul. The very children would upbraid the wretched individual who should +endeavor to take life and the world as w what we might naturally suppose +them meant for--a place and opportunity for enjoyment. + +It is the iron rule in our day to require an object and a purpose in +life. It makes us all parts of a complicated scheme of progress, which +can only result in our arrival at a colder and drearier region than +we were born in. It insists upon everybody’s adding somewhat--a mite, +perhaps, but earned by incessant effort--to an accumulated pile of +usefulness, of which the only use will be, to burden our posterity with +even heavier thoughts and more inordinate labor than our own. No life +now wanders like an unfettered stream; there is a mill-wheel for the +tiniest rivulet to turn. We go all wrong, by too strenuous a resolution +to go all right. + +Therefore it was--so, at least, the sculptor thought, although partly +suspicious of Donatello’s darker misfortune--that the young Count found +it impossible nowadays to be what his forefathers had been. He could +not live their healthy life of animal spirits, in their sympathy with +nature, and brotherhood with all that breathed around them. Nature, in +beast, fowl, and tree, and earth, flood, and sky, is what it was of old; +but sin, care, and self-consciousness have set the human portion of the +world askew; and thus the simplest character is ever the soonest to go +astray. + +“At any rate, Tomaso,” said Kenyon, doing his best to comfort the old +man, “let us hope that your young lord will still enjoy himself at +vintage time. By the aspect of the vineyard, I judge that this will be +a famous year for the golden wine of Monte Beni. As long as your grapes +produce that admirable liquor, sad as you think the world, neither the +Count nor his guests will quite forget to smile.” + +“Ah, Signore,” rejoined the butler with a sigh, “but he scarcely wets +his lips with the sunny juice.” + +“There is yet another hope,” observed Kenyon; “the young Count may fall +in love, and bring home a fair and laughing wife to chase the gloom out +of yonder old frescoed saloon. Do you think he could do a better thing, +my good Tomaso?” + +“Maybe not, Signore,” said the sage butler, looking earnestly at him; +“and, maybe, not a worse!” + +The sculptor fancied that the good old man had it partly in his mind to +make some remark, or communicate some fact, which, on second thoughts, +he resolved to keep concealed in his own breast. He now took his +departure cellarward, shaking his white head and muttering to himself, +and did not reappear till dinner-time, when he favored Kenyon, whom he +had taken far into his good graces, with a choicer flask of Sunshine +than had yet blessed his palate. + +To say the truth, this golden wine was no unnecessary ingredient towards +making the life of Monte Beni palatable. It seemed a pity that Donatello +did not drink a little more of it, and go jollily to bed at least, +even if he should awake with an accession of darker melancholy the next +morning. + +Nevertheless, there was no lack of outward means for leading an +agreeable life in the old villa. Wandering musicians haunted the +precincts of Monte Beni, where they seemed to claim a prescriptive +right; they made the lawn and shrubbery tuneful with the sound of +fiddle, harp, and flute, and now and then with the tangled squeaking of +a bagpipe. Improvisatori likewise came and told tales or recited verses +to the contadini--among whom Kenyon was often an auditor--after their +day’s work in the vineyard. Jugglers, too, obtained permission to do +feats of magic in the hall, where they set even the sage Tomaso, and +Stella, Girolamo, and the peasant girls from the farmhouse, all of a +broad grin, between merriment and wonder. These good people got food and +lodging for their pleasant pains, and some of the small wine of Tuscany, +and a reasonable handful of the Grand Duke’s copper coin, to keep up +the hospitable renown of Monte Beni. But very seldom had they the young +Count as a listener or a spectator. + +There were sometimes dances by moonlight on the lawn, but never since he +came from Rome did Donatello’s presence deepen the blushes of the +pretty contadinas, or his footstep weary out the most agile partner or +competitor, as once it was sure to do. + +Paupers--for this kind of vermin infested the house of Monte Beni worse +than any other spot in beggar-haunted Italy--stood beneath all the +windows, making loud supplication, or even establishing themselves on +the marble steps of the grand entrance. They ate and drank, and filled +their bags, and pocketed the little money that was given them, and went +forth on their devious ways, showering blessings innumerable on the +mansion and its lord, and on the souls of his deceased forefathers, who +had always been just such simpletons as to be compassionate to +beggary. But, in spite of their favorable prayers, by which Italian +philanthropists set great store, a cloud seemed to hang over these once +Arcadian precincts, and to be darkest around the summit of the tower +where Donatello was wont to sit and brood. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +MYTHS + + +After the sculptor’s arrival, however, the young Count sometimes +came down from his forlorn elevation, and rambled with him among the +neighboring woods and hills. He led his friend to many enchanting nooks, +with which he himself had been familiar in his childhood. But of late, +as he remarked to Kenyon, a sort of strangeness had overgrown them, +like clusters of dark shrubbery, so that he hardly recognized the places +which he had known and loved so well. + +To the sculptor’s eye, nevertheless, they were still rich with beauty. +They were picturesque in that sweetly impressive way where wildness, in +a long lapse of years, has crept over scenes that have been once adorned +with the careful art and toil of man; and when man could do no more for +them, time and nature came, and wrought hand in hand to bring them to a +soft and venerable perfection. There grew the fig-tree that had run wild +and taken to wife the vine, which likewise had gone rampant out of +all human control; so that the two wild things had tangled and +knotted themselves into a wild marriage bond, and hung their various +progeny--the luscious figs, the grapes, oozy with the Southern juice, +and both endowed with a wild flavor that added the final charm--on the +same bough together. + +In Kenyon’s opinion, never was any other nook so lovely as a certain +little dell which he and Donatello visited. It was hollowed in among the +hills, and open to a glimpse of the broad, fertile valley. A fountain +had its birth here, and fell into a marble basin, which was all covered +with moss and shaggy with water-weeds. Over the gush of the small +stream, with an urn in her arms, stood a marble nymph, whose nakedness +the moss had kindly clothed as with a garment; and the long trails and +tresses of the maidenhair had done what they could in the poor thing’s +behalf, by hanging themselves about her waist, In former days--it might +be a remote antiquity--this lady of the fountain had first received the +infant tide into her urn and poured it thence into the marble basin. +But now the sculptured urn had a great crack from top to bottom; and the +discontented nymph was compelled to see the basin fill itself through +a channel which she could not control, although with water long ago +consecrated to her. + +For this reason, or some other, she looked terribly forlorn; and you +might have fancied that the whole fountain was but the overflow of her +lonely tears. + +“This was a place that I used greatly to delight in,” remarked +Donatello, sighing. “As a child, and as a boy, I have been very happy +here.” + +“And, as a man, I should ask no fitter place to be happy in,” answered +Kenyon. “But you, my friend, are of such a social nature, that I should +hardly have thought these lonely haunts would take your fancy. It is +a place for a poet to dream in, and people it with the beings of his +imagination.” + +“I am no poet, that I know of,” said Donatello, “but yet, as I tell you, +I have been very happy here, in the company of this fountain and this +nymph. It is said that a Faun, my oldest forefather, brought home hither +to this very spot a human maiden, whom he loved and wedded. This spring +of delicious water was their household well.” + +“It is a most enchanting fable!” exclaimed Kenyon; “that is, if it be +not a fact.” + +“And why not a fact?” said the simple Donatello. “There is, likewise, +another sweet old story connected with this spot. But, now that I +remember it, it seems to me more sad than sweet, though formerly the +sorrow, in which it closes, did not so much impress me. If I had the +gift of tale-telling, this one would be sure to interest you mightily.” + +“Pray tell it,” said Kenyon; “no matter whether well or ill. These wild +legends have often the most powerful charm when least artfully told.” + +So the young Count narrated a myth of one of his Progenitors,--he might +have lived a century ago, or a thousand years, or before the Christian +epoch, for anything that Donatello knew to the contrary,--who had made +acquaintance with a fair creature belonging to this fountain. Whether +woman or sprite was a mystery, as was all else about her, except that +her life and soul were somehow interfused throughout the gushing water. +She was a fresh, cool, dewy thing, sunny and shadowy, full of pleasant +little mischiefs, fitful and changeable with the whim of the moment, but +yet as constant as her native stream, which kept the same gush and flow +forever, while marble crumbled over and around it. The fountain woman +loved the youth,--a knight, as Donatello called him,--for, according +to the legend, his race was akin to hers. At least, whether kin or no, +there had been friendship and sympathy of old betwixt an ancestor of +his, with furry ears, and the long-lived lady of the fountain. And, +after all those ages, she was still as young as a May morning, and as +frolicsome as a bird upon a tree, or a breeze that makes merry with the +leaves. + +She taught him how to call her from her pebbly source, and they spent +many a happy hour together, more especially in the fervor of the summer +days. For often as he sat waiting for her by the margin of the spring, +she would suddenly fall down around him in a shower of sunny raindrops, +with a rainbow glancing through them, and forthwith gather herself up +into the likeness of a beautiful girl, laughing--or was it the warble of +the rill over the pebbles?--to see the youth’s amazement. + + +Thus, kind maiden that she was, the hot atmosphere became deliciously +cool and fragrant for this favored knight; and, furthermore, when he +knelt down to drink out of the spring, nothing was more common than for +a pair of rosy lips to come up out of its little depths, and touch his +mouth with the thrill of a sweet, cool, dewy kiss! + +“It is a delightful story for the hot noon of your Tuscan summer,” + observed the sculptor, at this point. “But the deportment of the watery +lady must have had a most chilling influence in midwinter. Her lover +would find it, very literally, a cold reception!” + +“I suppose,” said Donatello rather sulkily, “you are making fun of the +story. But I see nothing laughable in the thing itself, nor in what you +say about it.” + +He went on to relate, that for a long While the knight found infinite +pleasure and comfort in the friendship of the fountain nymph. In his +merriest hours, she gladdened him with her sportive humor. If ever he +was annoyed with earthly trouble, she laid her moist hand upon his brow, +and charmed the fret and fever quite away. + +But one day--one fatal noontide--the young knight came rushing with +hasty and irregular steps to the accustomed fountain. He called the +nymph; but--no doubt because there was something unusual and frightful +in his tone she did not appear, nor answer him. He flung himself down, +and washed his hands and bathed his feverish brow in the cool, pure +water. And then there was a sound of woe; it might have been a woman’s +voice; it might have been only the sighing of the brook over the +pebbles. The water shrank away from the youth’s hands, and left his brow +as dry and feverish as before. + +Donatello here came to a dead pause. + +“Why did the water shrink from this unhappy knight?” inquired the +sculptor. + +“Because he had tried to wash off a bloodstain!” said the young Count, +in a horror-stricken whisper. “The guilty man had polluted the pure +water. The nymph might have comforted him in sorrow, but could not +cleanse his conscience of a crime.” + +“And did he never behold her more?” asked Kenyon. + +“Never but once,” replied his friend. “He never beheld her blessed face +but once again, and then there was a blood-stain on the poor nymph’s +brow; it was the stain his guilt had left in the fountain where he tried +to wash it off. He mourned for her his whole life long, and employed +the best sculptor of the time to carve this statue of the nymph from his +description of her aspect. But, though my ancestor would fain have had +the image wear her happiest look, the artist, unlike yourself, was so +impressed with the mournfulness of the story, that, in spite of his best +efforts, he made her forlorn, and forever weeping, as you see!” + +Kenyon found a certain charm in this simple legend. Whether so intended +or not, he understood it as an apologue, typifying the soothing and +genial effects of an habitual intercourse with nature in all ordinary +cares and griefs; while, on the other hand, her mild influences fall +short in their effect upon the ruder passions, and are altogether +powerless in the dread fever-fit or deadly chill of guilt. + +“Do you say,” he asked, “that the nymph’s race has never since been +shown to any mortal? Methinks you, by your native qualities, are as well +entitled to her favor as ever your progenitor could have been. Why have +you not summoned her?” + +“I called her often when I was a silly child,” answered Donatello; and +he added, in an inward voice, “Thank Heaven, she did not come!” + +“Then you never saw her?” said the sculptor. + +“Never in my life!” rejoined the Count. “No, my dear friend, I have +not seen the nymph; although here, by her fountain, I used to make many +strange acquaintances; for, from my earliest childhood, I was familiar +with whatever creatures haunt the woods. You would have laughed to see +the friends I had among them; yes, among the wild, nimble things, that +reckon man their deadliest enemy! How it was first taught me, I cannot +tell; but there was a charm--a voice, a murmur, a kind of chant--by +which I called the woodland inhabitants, the furry people, and the +feathered people, in a language that they seemed to understand.” + +“I have heard of such a gift,” responded the sculptor gravely, “but +never before met with a person endowed with it. Pray try the charm; +and lest I should frighten your friends away, I will withdraw into this +thicket, and merely peep at them.” + +“I doubt,” said Donatello, “whether they will remember my voice now. It +changes, you know, as the boy grows towards manhood.” + +Nevertheless, as the young Count’s good-nature and easy persuadability +were among his best characteristics, he set about complying with +Kenyon’s request. The latter, in his concealment among the shrubberies, +heard him send forth a sort of modulated breath, wild, rude, yet +harmonious. It struck the auditor as at once the strangest and the +most natural utterance that had ever reached his ears. Any idle boy, +it should seem, singing to himself and setting his wordless song to +no other or more definite tune than the play of his own pulses, +might produce a sound almost identical with this; and yet, it was as +individual as a murmur of the breeze. Donatello tried it, over and over +again, with many breaks, at first, and pauses of uncertainty; then with +more confidence, and a fuller swell, like a wayfarer groping out +of obscurity into the light, and moving with freer footsteps as it +brightens around him. + +Anon, his voice appeared to fill the air, yet not with an obtrusive +clangor. The sound was of a murmurous character, soft, attractive, +persuasive, friendly. The sculptor fancied that such might have been +the original voice and utterance of the natural man, before the +sophistication of the human intellect formed what we now call language. +In this broad dialect--broad as the sympathies of nature--the human +brother might have spoken to his inarticulate brotherhood that prowl the +woods, or soar upon the wing, and have been intelligible to such extent +as to win their confidence. + +The sound had its pathos too. At some of its simple cadences, the tears +came quietly into Kenyon’s eyes. They welled up slowly from his heart, +which was thrilling with an emotion more delightful than he had often +felt before, but which he forbore to analyze, lest, if he seized it, it +should at once perish in his grasp. + +Donatello paused two or three times, and seemed to listen,--then, +recommencing, he poured his spirit and life more earnestly into the +strain. And finally,--or else the sculptor’s hope and imagination +deceived him,--soft treads were audible upon the fallen leaves. There +was a rustling among the shrubbery; a whir of wings, moreover, that +hovered in the air. It may have been all an illusion; but Kenyon fancied +that he could distinguish the stealthy, cat-like movement of some small +forest citizen, and that he could even see its doubtful shadow, if not +really its substance. But, all at once, whatever might be the reason, +there ensued a hurried rush and scamper of little feet; and then the +sculptor heard a wild, sorrowful cry, and through the crevices of the +thicket beheld Donatello fling himself on the ground. + +Emerging from his hiding-place, he saw no living thing, save a brown +lizard (it was of the tarantula species) rustling away through the +sunshine. To all present appearance, this venomous reptile was the only +creature that had responded to the young Count’s efforts to renew his +intercourse with the lower orders of nature. + +“What has happened to you?” exclaimed Kenyon, stooping down over his +friend, and wondering at the anguish which he betrayed. + +“Death, death!” sobbed Donatello. “They know it!” + +He grovelled beside the fountain, in a fit of such passionate sobbing +and weeping, that it seemed as if his heart had broken, and spilt its +wild sorrows upon the ground. His unrestrained grief and childish tears +made Kenyon sensible in how small a degree the customs and restraints of +society had really acted upon this young man, in spite of the quietude +of his ordinary deportment. In response to his friend’s efforts to +console him, he murmured words hardly more articulate than the strange +chant which he had so recently been breathing into the air. + +“They know it!” was all that Kenyon could yet distinguish,--“they know +it!” + +“Who know it?” asked the sculptor. “And what is it their know?” “They +know it!” repeated Donatello, trembling. “They shun me! All nature +shrinks from me, and shudders at me! I live in the midst of a curse, +that hems me round with a circle of fire! No innocent thing can come +near me.” + +“Be comforted, my dear friend,” said Kenyon, kneeling beside him. “You +labor under some illusion, but no curse. As for this strange, natural +spell, which you have been exercising, and of which I have heard before, +though I never believed in, nor expected to witness it, I am satisfied +that you still possess it. It was my own half-concealed presence, no +doubt, and some involuntary little movement of mine, that scared away +your forest friends.” + +“They are friends of mine no longer,” answered Donatello. + +“We all of us, as we grow older,” rejoined Kenyon, “lose somewhat of our +proximity to nature. It is the price we pay for experience.” + +“A heavy price, then!” said Donatello, rising from the ground. “But we +will speak no more of it. Forget this scene, my dear friend. In your +eyes, it must look very absurd. It is a grief, I presume, to all men, to +find the pleasant privileges and properties of early life departing from +them. That grief has now befallen me. Well; I shall waste no more tears +for such a cause!” + +Nothing else made Kenyon so sensible of a change in Donatello, as his +newly acquired power of dealing with his own emotions, and, after a +struggle more or less fierce, thrusting them down into the prison cells +where he usually kept them confined. The restraint, which he now put +upon himself, and the mask of dull composure which he succeeded in +clasping over his still beautiful, and once faun-like face, affected the +sensitive sculptor more sadly than even the unrestrained passion of the +preceding scene. It is a very miserable epoch, when the evil necessities +of life, in our tortuous world, first get the better of us so far as to +compel us to attempt throwing a cloud over our transparency. Simplicity +increases in value the longer we can keep it, and the further we carry +it onward into life; the loss of a child’s simplicity, in the inevitable +lapse of years, causes but a natural sigh or two, because even his +mother feared that he could not keep it always. But after a young man +has brought it through his childhood, and has still worn it in +his bosom, not as an early dewdrop, but as a diamond of pure white +lustre,--it is a pity to lose it, then. And thus, when Kenyon saw how +much his friend had now to hide, and how well he hid it, he would have +wept, although his tears would have been even idler than those which +Donatello had just shed. + +They parted on the lawn before the house, the Count to climb his tower, +and the sculptor to read an antique edition of Dante, which he had found +among some old volumes of Catholic devotion, in a seldom-visited room, +Tomaso met him in the entrance hall, and showed a desire to speak. + +“Our poor signorino looks very sad to-day!” he said. + +“Even so, good Tomaso,” replied the sculptor. “Would that we could raise +his spirits a little!” + +“There might be means, Signore,” answered the old butler, “if one might +but be sure that they were the right ones. We men are but rough nurses +for a sick body or a sick spirit.” + +“Women, you would say, my good friend, are better,” said the sculptor, +struck by an intelligence in the butler’s face. “That is possible! But +it depends.” + +“Ah; we will wait a little longer,” said Tomaso, with the customary +shake of his head. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +THE OWL TOWER + + +“Will you not show me your tower?” said the sculptor one day to his +friend. + +“It is plainly enough to be seen, methinks,” answered the Count, with +a kind of sulkiness that often appeared in him, as one of the little +symptoms of inward trouble. + +“Yes; its exterior is visible far and wide,” said Kenyon. “But such +a gray, moss-grown tower as this, however valuable as an object of +scenery, will certainly be quite as interesting inside as out. It cannot +be less than six hundred years old; the foundations and lower story are +much older than that, I should judge; and traditions probably cling to +the walls within quite as plentifully as the gray and yellow lichens +cluster on its face without.” + +“No doubt,” replied Donatello,--“but I know little of such things, and +never could comprehend the interest which some of you Forestieri take +in them. A year or two ago an English signore, with a venerable white +beard--they say he was a magician, too--came hither from as far off as +Florence, just to see my tower.” + +“Ah, I have seen him at Florence,” observed Kenyon. “He is a +necromancer, as you say, and dwells in an old mansion of the Knights +Templars, close by the Ponte Vecchio, with a great many ghostly books, +pictures, and antiquities, to make the house gloomy, and one bright-eyed +little girl, to keep it cheerful!” + +“I know him only by his white beard,” said Donatello; “but he could +have told you a great deal about the tower, and the sieges which it has +stood, and the prisoners who have been confined in it. And he gathered +up all the traditions of the Monte Beni family, and, among the rest, +the sad one which I told you at the fountain the other day. He had known +mighty poets, he said, in his earlier life; and the most illustrious +of them would have rejoiced to preserve such a legend in immortal +rhyme,--especially if he could have had some of our wine of Sunshine to +help out his inspiration!” + +“Any man might be a poet, as well as Byron, with such wine and such +a theme,” rejoined the sculptor. “But shall we climb your tower The +thunder-storm gathering yonder among the hills will be a spectacle worth +witnessing.” + +“Come, then,” said the Count, adding, with a sigh, “it has a weary +staircase, and dismal chambers, and it is very lonesome at the summit!” + +“Like a man’s life, when he has climbed to eminence,” remarked the +sculptor; “or, let us rather say, with its difficult steps, and the dark +prison cells you speak of, your tower resembles the spiritual experience +of many a sinful soul, which, nevertheless, may struggle upward into the +pure air and light of Heaven at last!” + +Donatello sighed again, and led the way up into the tower. + +Mounting the broad staircase that ascended from the entrance hall, +they traversed the great wilderness of a house, through some obscure +passages, and came to a low, ancient doorway. It admitted them to a +narrow turret stair which zigzagged upward, lighted in its progress by +loopholes and iron-barred windows. Reaching the top of the first flight, +the Count threw open a door of worm-eaten oak, and disclosed a chamber +that occupied the whole area of the tower. It was most pitiably forlorn +of aspect, with a brick-paved floor, bare holes through the massive +walls, grated with iron, instead of windows, and for furniture an +old stool, which increased the dreariness of the place tenfold, by +suggesting an idea of its having once been tenanted. + +“This was a prisoner’s cell in the old days,” said Donatello; “the +white-bearded necromancer, of whom I told you, found out that a certain +famous monk was confined here, about five hundred years ago. He was a +very holy man, and was afterwards burned at the stake in the Grand-ducal +Square at Firenze. There have always been stories, Tomaso says, of +a hooded monk creeping up and down these stairs, or standing in the +doorway of this chamber. It must needs be the ghost of the ancient +prisoner. Do you believe in ghosts?” + +“I can hardly tell,” replied Kenyon; “on the whole, I think not.” + +“Neither do I,” responded the Count; “for, if spirits ever come back, +I should surely have met one within these two months past. Ghosts never +rise! So much I know, and am glad to know it!” + +Following the narrow staircase still higher, they came to another room +of similar size and equally forlorn, but inhabited by two personages of +a race which from time immemorial have held proprietorship and occupancy +in ruined towers. These were a pair of owls, who, being doubtless +acquainted with Donatello, showed little sign of alarm at the entrance +of visitors. They gave a dismal croak or two, and hopped aside into the +darkest corner, since it was not yet their hour to flap duskily abroad. + +“They do not desert me, like my other feathered acquaintances,” observed +the young Count, with a sad smile, alluding to the scene which Kenyon +had witnessed at the fountain-side. “When I was a wild, playful boy, the +owls did not love me half so well.” + +He made no further pause here, but led his friend up another flight of +steps--while, at every stage, the windows and narrow loopholes afforded +Kenyon more extensive eye-shots over hill and valley, and allowed him +to taste the cool purity of mid-atmosphere. At length they reached the +topmost chamber, directly beneath the roof of the tower. + +“This is my own abode,” said Donatello; “my own owl’s nest.” + +In fact, the room was fitted up as a bedchamber, though in a style of +the utmost simplicity. It likewise served as an oratory; there being +a crucifix in one corner, and a multitude of holy emblems, such as +Catholics judge it necessary to help their devotion withal. Several +ugly little prints, representing the sufferings of the Saviour, and the +martyrdoms of saints, hung on the wall; and behind the crucifix there +was a good copy of Titian’s Magdalen of the Pitti Palace, clad only in +the flow of her golden ringlets. She had a confident look (but it was +Titian’s fault, not the penitent woman’s), as if expecting to win +heaven by the free display of her earthly charms. Inside of a glass case +appeared an image of the sacred Bambino, in the guise of a little waxen +boy, very prettily made, reclining among flowers, like a Cupid, and +holding up a heart that resembled a bit of red sealing-wax. A small vase +of precious marble was full of holy water. + +Beneath the crucifix, on a table, lay a human skull, which looked as if +it might have been dug up out of some old grave. But, examining it +more closely, Kenyon saw that it was carved in gray alabaster; most +skillfully done to the death, with accurate imitation of the teeth, +the sutures, the empty eye-caverns, and the fragile little bones of the +nose. This hideous emblem rested on a cushion of white marble, so nicely +wrought that you seemed to see the impression of the heavy skull in a +silken and downy substance. + +Donatello dipped his fingers into the holy-water vase, and crossed +himself. After doing so he trembled. + +“I have no right to make the sacred symbol on a sinful breast!” he said. + +“On what mortal breast can it be made, then?” asked the sculptor. “Is +there one that hides no sin?” + +“But these blessed emblems make you smile, I fear,” resumed the Count, +looking askance at his friend. “You heretics, I know, attempt to pray +without even a crucifix to kneel at.” + +“I, at least, whom you call a heretic, reverence that holy symbol,” + answered Kenyon. “What I am most inclined to murmur at is this death’s +head. I could laugh, moreover, in its ugly face! It is absurdly +monstrous, my dear friend, thus to fling the dead weight of our +mortality upon our immortal hopes. While we live on earth, ‘t is true, +we must needs carry our skeletons about with us; but, for Heaven’s sake, +do not let us burden our spirits with them, in our feeble efforts to +soar upward! Believe me, it will change the whole aspect of death, if +you can once disconnect it, in your idea, with that corruption from +which it disengages our higher part.” + +“I do not well understand you,” said Donatello; and he took up the +alabaster skull, shuddering, and evidently feeling it a kind of penance +to touch it. “I only know that this skull has been in my family for +centuries. Old Tomaso has a story that it was copied by a famous +sculptor from the skull of that same unhappy knight who loved the +fountain lady, and lost her by a blood-stain. He lived and died with a +deep sense of sin upon him, and on his death-bed he ordained that this +token of him should go down to his posterity. And my forefathers, being +a cheerful race of men in their natural disposition, found it needful to +have the skull often before their eyes, because they dearly loved life +and its enjoyments, and hated the very thought of death.” + +“I am afraid,” said Kenyon, “they liked it none the better, for seeing +its face under this abominable mask.” + +Without further discussion, the Count led the way up one more flight of +stairs, at the end of which they emerged upon the summit of the tower. +The sculptor felt as if his being were suddenly magnified a hundredfold; +so wide was the Umbrian valley that suddenly opened before him, set in +its grand framework of nearer and more distant hills. It seemed as if +all Italy lay under his eyes in that one picture. For there was the +broad, sunny smile of God, which we fancy to be spread over that favored +land more abundantly than on other regions, and beneath it glowed a +most rich and varied fertility. The trim vineyards were there, and the +fig-trees, and the mulberries, and the smoky-hued tracts of the olive +orchards; there, too, were fields of every kind of grain, among which, +waved the Indian corn, putting Kenyon in mind of the fondly remembered +acres of his father’s homestead. White villas, gray convents, church +spires, villages, towns, each with its battlemented walls and towered +gateway, were scattered upon this spacious map; a river gleamed across +it; and lakes opened their blue eyes in its face, reflecting heaven, +lest mortals should forget that better land when they beheld the earth +so beautiful. + + +What made the valley look still wider was the two or three varieties +of weather that were visible on its surface, all at the same instant of +time. Here lay the quiet sunshine; there fell the great black patches +of ominous shadow from the clouds; and behind them, like a giant of +league-long strides, came hurrying the thunderstorm, which had already +swept midway across the plain. In the rear of the approaching tempest, +brightened forth again the sunny splendor, which its progress had +darkened with so terrible a frown. + +All round this majestic landscape, the bald-peaked or forest-crowned +mountains descended boldly upon the plain. On many of their spurs and +midway declivities, and even on their summits, stood cities, some of +them famous of old; for these had been the seats and nurseries of early +art, where the flower of beauty sprang out of a rocky soil, and in +a high, keen atmosphere, when the richest and most sheltered gardens +failed to nourish it. + +“Thank God for letting me again behold this scene!” Said the sculptor, a +devout man in his way, reverently taking off his hat. “I have viewed it +from many points, and never without as full a sensation of gratitude +as my heart seems capable of feeling. How it strengthens the poor human +spirit in its reliance on His providence, to ascend but this little way +above the common level, and so attain a somewhat wider glimpse of His +dealings with mankind! He doeth all things right! His will be done!” + +“You discern something that is hidden from me,” observed Donatello +gloomily, yet striving with unwonted grasp to catch the analogies +which so cheered his friend. “I see sunshine on one spot, and cloud in +another, and no reason for it in either ease. The sun on you; the cloud +on me! What comfort can I draw from this?” + +“Nay; I cannot preach,” said Kenyon, “with a page of heaven and a page +of earth spread wide open before us! Only begin to read it, and you +will find it interpreting itself without the aid of words. It is a great +mistake to try to put our best thoughts into human language. When we +ascend into the higher regions of emotion and spiritual enjoyment, they +are only expressible by such grand hieroglyphics as these around us.” + +They stood awhile, contemplating the scene; but, as inevitably happens +after a spiritual flight, it was not long before the sculptor felt his +wings flagging in the rarity of the upper atmosphere. He was glad to let +himself quietly downward out of the mid-sky, as it were, and alight on +the solid platform of the battlemented tower. He looked about him, +and beheld growing out of the stone pavement, which formed the roof, a +little shrub, with green and glossy leaves. It was the only green thing +there; and Heaven knows how its seeds had ever been planted, at that +airy height, or how it had found nourishment for its small life in the +chinks of the stones; for it had no earth, and nothing more like soil +than the crumbling mortar, which had been crammed into the crevices in a +long-past age. + +Yet the plant seemed fond of its native site; and Donatello said it +had always grown there from his earliest remembrance, and never, he +believed, any smaller or any larger than they saw it now. + +“I wonder if the shrub teaches you any good lesson,” said he, observing +the interest with which Kenyon examined it. “If the wide valley has a +great meaning, the plant ought to have at least a little one; and it has +been growing on our tower long enough to have learned how to speak it.” + +“O, certainly!” answered the sculptor; “the shrub has its moral, or +it would have perished long ago. And, no doubt, it is for your use and +edification, since you have had it before your eyes all your lifetime, +and now are moved to ask what may be its lesson.” + +“It teaches me nothing,” said the simple Donatello, stooping over the +plant, and perplexing himself with a minute scrutiny. “But here was a +worm that would have killed it; an ugly creature, which I will fling +over the battlements.” + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +ON THE BATTLEMENTS + + +The sculptor now looked through art embrasure, and threw down a bit of +lime, watching its fall, till it struck upon a stone bench at the rocky +foundation of the tower, and flew into many fragments. + +“Pray pardon me for helping Time to crumble away your ancestral walls,” + said he. “But I am one of those persons who have a natural tendency to +climb heights, and to stand on the verge of them, measuring the depth +below. If I were to do just as I like, at this moment, I should fling +myself down after that bit of lime. It is a very singular temptation, +and all but irresistible; partly, I believe, because it might be so +easily done, and partly because such momentous consequences would ensue, +without my being compelled to wait a moment for them. Have you never +felt this strange impulse of an evil spirit at your back, shoving you +towards a precipice?” + +“Ah, no!” cried. Donatello, shrinking from the battlemented wall with a +face of horror. “I cling to life in a way which you cannot conceive; it +has been so rich, so warm, so sunny!--and beyond its verge, nothing +but the chilly dark! And then a fall from a precipice is such an awful +death!” + +“Nay; if it be a great height,” said Kenyon, “a man would leave his life +in the air, and never feel the hard shock at the bottom.” + +“That is not the way with this kind of death!” exclaimed Donatello, in a +low, horror-stricken voice, which grew higher and more full of emotion +as he proceeded. “Imagine a fellow creature,--breathing now, and looking +you in the face,--and now tumbling down, down, down, with a long shriek +wavering after him, all the way! He does not leave his life in the air! +No; but it keeps in him till he thumps against the stones, a horribly +long while; then he lies there frightfully quiet, a dead heap of bruised +flesh and broken bones! A quiver runs through the crushed mass; and no +more movement after that! No; not if you would give your soul to make +him stir a finger! Ah, terrible! Yes, yes; I would fain fling myself +down for the very dread of it, that I might endure it once for all, and +dream of it no more!” + +“How forcibly, how frightfully you conceive this!” said the sculptor, +aghast at the passionate horror which was betrayed in the Count’s words, +and still more in his wild gestures and ghastly look. “Nay, if the +height of your tower affects your imagination thus, you do wrong to +trust yourself here in solitude, and in the night-time, and at all +unguarded hours. You are not safe in your chamber. It is but a step or +two; and what if a vivid dream should lead you up hither at midnight, +and act itself out as a reality!” + +Donatello had hidden his face in his hands, and was leaning against the +parapet. + +“No fear of that!” said he. “Whatever the dream may be, I am too genuine +a coward to act out my own death in it.” + +The paroxysm passed away, and the two friends continued their desultory +talk, very much as if no such interruption had occurred. Nevertheless, +it affected the sculptor with infinite pity to see this young man, who +had been born to gladness as an assured heritage, now involved in a +misty bewilderment of grievous thoughts, amid which he seemed to go +staggering blindfold. Kenyon, not without an unshaped suspicion of +the definite fact, knew that his condition must have resulted from the +weight and gloom of life, now first, through the agency of a secret +trouble, making themselves felt on a character that had heretofore +breathed only an atmosphere of joy. The effect of this hard lesson, +upon Donatello’s intellect and disposition, was very striking. It was +perceptible that he had already had glimpses of strange and subtle +matters in those dark caverns, into which all men must descend, if +they would know anything beneath the surface and illusive pleasures of +existence. And when they emerge, though dazzled and blinded by the first +glare of daylight, they take truer and sadder views of life forever +afterwards. + +From some mysterious source, as the sculptor felt assured, a soul had +been inspired into the young Count’s simplicity, since their intercourse +in Rome. He now showed a far deeper sense, and an intelligence that +began to deal with high subjects, though in a feeble and childish way. +He evinced, too, a more definite and nobler individuality, but developed +out of grief and pain, and fearfully conscious of the pangs that had +given it birth. Every human life, if it ascends to truth or delves down +to reality, must undergo a similar change; but sometimes, perhaps, the +instruction comes without the sorrow; and oftener the sorrow teaches +no lesson that abides with us. In Donatello’s case, it was pitiful, and +almost ludicrous, to observe the confused struggle that he made; how +completely he was taken by surprise; how ill-prepared he stood, on this +old battlefield of the world, to fight with such an inevitable foe as +mortal calamity, and sin for its stronger ally. + +“And yet,” thought Kenyon, “the poor fellow bears himself like a hero, +too! If he would only tell me his trouble, or give me an opening to +speak frankly about it, I might help him; but he finds it too horrible +to be uttered, and fancies himself the only mortal that ever felt the +anguish of remorse. Yes; he believes that nobody ever endured his agony +before; so that--sharp enough in itself--it has all the additional zest +of a torture just invented to plague him individually.” + +The sculptor endeavored to dismiss the painful subject from his mind; +and, leaning against the battlements, he turned his face southward and +westward, and gazed across the breadth of the valley. His thoughts +flew far beyond even those wide boundaries, taking an air-line from +Donatello’s tower to another turret that ascended into the sky of the +summer afternoon, invisibly to him, above the roofs of distant Rome. +Then rose tumultuously into his consciousness that strong love for +Hilda, which it was his habit to confine in one of the heart’s inner +chambers, because he had found no encouragement to bring it forward. But +now he felt a strange pull at his heart-strings. It could not have been +more perceptible, if all the way between these battlements and Hilda’s +dove-cote had stretched an exquisitely sensitive cord, which, at the +hither end, was knotted with his aforesaid heart-strings, and, at the +remoter one, was grasped by a gentle hand. His breath grew tremulous. He +put his hand to his breast; so distinctly did he seem to feel that cord +drawn once, and again, and again, as if--though still it was bashfully +intimated there were an importunate demand for his presence. O for the +white wings of Hilda’s doves, that he might, have flown thither, and +alighted at the Virgin’s shrine! + +But lovers, and Kenyon knew it well, project so lifelike a copy of +their mistresses out of their own imaginations, that it can pull at +the heartstrings almost as perceptibly as the genuine original. No airy +intimations are to be trusted; no evidences of responsive affection less +positive than whispered and broken words, or tender pressures of the +hand, allowed and half returned; or glances, that distil many passionate +avowals into one gleam of richly colored light. Even these should +be weighed rigorously, at the instant; for, in another instant, the +imagination seizes on them as its property, and stamps them with its +own arbitrary value. But Hilda’s maidenly reserve had given her lover no +such tokens, to be interpreted either by his hopes or fears. + +“Yonder, over mountain and valley, lies Rome,” said the sculptor; “shall +you return thither in the autumn?” + +“Never! I hate Rome,” answered Donatello; “and have good cause.” + +“And yet it was a pleasant winter that we spent there,” observed +Kenyon, “and with pleasant friends about us. You would meet them again +there--all of them.” + +“All?” asked Donatello. + +“All, to the best of my belief,” said the sculptor: “but you need not go +to Rome to seek them. If there were one of those friends whose lifetime +was twisted with your own, I am enough of a fatalist to feel assured +that you will meet that one again, wander whither you may. Neither can +we escape the companions whom Providence assigns for us, by climbing an +old tower like this.” + +“Yet the stairs are steep and dark,” rejoined the Count; “none but +yourself would seek me here, or find me, if they sought.” + +As Donatello did not take advantage of this opening which his friend had +kindly afforded him to pour out his hidden troubles, the latter again +threw aside the subject, and returned to the enjoyment of the scene +before him. The thunder-storm, which he had beheld striding across the +valley, had passed to the left of Monte Beni, and was continuing its +march towards the hills that formed the boundary on the eastward. +Above the whole valley, indeed, the sky was heavy with tumbling vapors, +interspersed with which were tracts of blue, vividly brightened by the +sun; but, in the east, where the tempest was yet trailing its ragged +skirts, lay a dusky region of cloud and sullen mist, in which some of +the hills appeared of a dark purple hue. Others became so indistinct, +that the spectator could not tell rocky height from impalpable cloud. +Far into this misty cloud region, however,--within the domain of chaos, +as it were,--hilltops were seen brightening in the sunshine; they looked +like fragments of the world, broken adrift and based on nothingness, +or like portions of a sphere destined to exist, but not yet finally +compacted. + +The sculptor, habitually drawing many of the images and illustrations +of his thoughts from the plastic art, fancied that the scene represented +the process of the Creator, when he held the new, imperfect earth in his +hand, and modelled it. + +“What a magic is in mist and vapor among the mountains!” he exclaimed. +“With their help, one single scene becomes a thousand. The cloud scenery +gives such variety to a hilly landscape that it would be worth while to +journalize its aspect from hour to hour. A cloud, however,--as I have +myself experienced,--is apt to grow solid and as heavy as a stone the +instant that you take in hand to describe it, But, in my own heart, +I have found great use in clouds. Such silvery ones as those to the +northward, for example, have often suggested sculpturesque groups, +figures, and attitudes; they are especially rich in attitudes of living +repose, which a sculptor only hits upon by the rarest good fortune. When +I go back to my dear native land, the clouds along the horizon will be +my only gallery of art!” + +“I can see cloud shapes, too,” said Donatello; “yonder is one that +shifts strangely; it has been like people whom I knew. And now, if I +watch it a little longer, it will take the figure of a monk reclining, +with his cowl about his head and drawn partly over his face, and--well! +did I not tell you so?” + +“I think,” remarked Kenyon, “we can hardly be gazing at the same cloud. +What I behold is a reclining figure, to be sure, but feminine, and with +a despondent air, wonderfully well expressed in the wavering outline +from head to foot. It moves my very heart by something indefinable that +it suggests.” + +“I see the figure, and almost the face,” said the Count; adding, in a +lower voice, “It is Miriam’s!” + +“No, not Miriam’s,” answered the sculptor. While the two gazers thus +found their own reminiscences and presentiments floating among the +clouds, the day drew to its close, and now showed them the fair +spectacle of an Italian sunset. The sky was soft and bright, but not so +gorgeous as Kenyon had seen it, a thousand times, in America; for there +the western sky is wont to be set aflame with breadths and depths of +color with which poets seek in vain to dye their verses, and which +painters never dare to copy. As beheld from the tower of Monte Beni, the +scene was tenderly magnificent, with mild gradations of hue and a lavish +outpouring of gold, but rather such gold as we see on the leaf of a +bright flower than the burnished glow of metal from the mine. Or, if +metallic, it looked airy and unsubstantial, like the glorified dreams +of an alchemist. And speedily--more speedily than in our own clime--came +the twilight, and, brightening through its gray transparency, the stars. + +A swarm of minute insects that had been hovering all day round the +battlements were now swept away by the freshness of a rising breeze. +The two owls in the chamber beneath Donatello’s uttered their soft +melancholy cry,--which, with national avoidance of harsh sounds, Italian +owls substitute for the hoot of their kindred in other countries,--and +flew darkling forth among the shrubbery. A convent bell rang out near at +hand, and was not only echoed among the hills, but answered by another +bell, and still another, which doubtless had farther and farther +responses, at various distances along the valley; for, like the English +drumbeat around the globe, there is a chain of convent bells from end +to end, and crosswise, and in all possible directions over priest-ridden +Italy. + +“Come,” said the sculptor, “the evening air grows cool. It is time to +descend.” + +“Time for you, my friend,” replied the Count; and he hesitated a little +before adding, “I must keep a vigil here for some hours longer. It is my +frequent custom to keep vigils,--and sometimes the thought occurs to me +whether it were not better to keep them in yonder convent, the bell of +which just now seemed to summon me. Should I do wisely, do you think, to +exchange this old tower for a cell?” + +“What! Turn monk?” exclaimed his friend. “A horrible idea!” + +“True,” said Donatello, sighing. “Therefore, if at all, I purpose doing +it.” + +“Then think of it no more, for Heaven’s sake!” cried the sculptor. +“There are a thousand better and more poignant methods of being +miserable than that, if to be miserable is what you wish. Nay; I +question whether a monk keeps himself up to the intellectual and +spiritual height which misery implies. A monk I judge from their sensual +physiognomies, which meet me at every turn--is inevitably a beast! Their +souls, if they have any to begin with, perish out of them, before their +sluggish, swinish existence is half done. Better, a million times, to +stand star-gazing on these airy battlements, than to smother your new +germ of a higher life in a monkish cell!” + +“You make me tremble,” said Donatello, “by your bold aspersion of men +who have devoted themselves to God’s service!” + +“They serve neither God nor man, and themselves least of all, though +their motives be utterly selfish,” replied Kenyon. “Avoid the convent, +my dear friend, as you would shun the death of the soul! But, for my own +part, if I had an insupportable burden,--if, for any cause, I were +bent upon sacrificing every earthly hope as a peace-offering towards +Heaven,--I would make the wide world my cell, and good deeds to mankind +my prayer. Many penitent men have done this, and found peace in it.” + +“Ah, but you are a heretic!” said the Count. + +Yet his face brightened beneath the stars; and, looking at it through +the twilight, the sculptor’s remembrance went back to that scene in the +Capitol, where, both in features and expression, Donatello had seemed +identical with the Faun. And still there was a resemblance; for now, +when first the idea was suggested of living for the welfare of his +fellow-creatures, the original beauty, which sorrow had partly effaced, +came back elevated and spiritualized. In the black depths the Faun had +found a soul, and was struggling with it towards the light of heaven. + +The illumination, it is true, soon faded out of Donatello’s face. The +idea of lifelong and unselfish effort was too high to be received by +him with more than a momentary comprehension. An Italian, indeed, +seldom dreams of being philanthropic, except in bestowing alms among the +paupers, who appeal to his beneficence at every step; nor does it +occur to him that there are fitter modes of propitiating Heaven than +by penances, pilgrimages, and offerings at shrines. Perhaps, too, their +system has its share of moral advantages; they, at all events, cannot +well pride themselves, as our own more energetic benevolence is apt to +do, upon sharing in the counsels of Providence and kindly helping out +its otherwise impracticable designs. + +And now the broad valley twinkled with lights, that glimmered through +its duskiness like the fireflies in the garden of a Florentine palace. A +gleam of lightning from the rear of the tempest showed the circumference +of hills and the great space between, as the last cannon-flash of a +retreating army reddens across the field where it has fought. The +sculptor was on the point of descending the turret stair, when, +somewhere in the darkness that lay beneath them, a woman’s voice was +heard, singing a low, sad strain. + +“Hark!” said he, laying his hand on Donatello’s arm. + +And Donatello had said “Hark!” at the same instant. + +The song, if song it could be called, that had only a wild rhythm, and +flowed forth in the fitful measure of a wind-harp, did not clothe itself +in the sharp brilliancy of the Italian tongue. The words, so far as they +could be distinguished, were German, and therefore unintelligible to the +Count, and hardly less so to the sculptor; being softened and molten, +as it were, into the melancholy richness of the voice that sung them. It +was as the murmur of a soul bewildered amid the sinful gloom of earth, +and retaining only enough memory of a better state to make sad music +of the wail, which would else have been a despairing shriek. Never was +there profounder pathos than breathed through that mysterious voice; +it brought the tears into the sculptor’s eyes, with remembrances and +forebodings of whatever sorrow he had felt or apprehended; it made +Donatello sob, as chiming in with the anguish that he found unutterable, +and giving it the expression which he vaguely sought. + +But, when the emotion was at its profoundest depth, the voice rose out +of it, yet so gradually that a gloom seemed to pervade it, far upward +from the abyss, and not entirely to fall away as it ascended into a +higher and purer region. At last, the auditors would have fancied that +the melody, with its rich sweetness all there, and much of its sorrow +gone, was floating around the very summit of the tower. + +“Donatello,” said the sculptor, when there was silence again, “had that +voice no message for your ear?” + +“I dare not receive it,” said Donatello; “the anguish of which it spoke +abides with me: the hope dies away with the breath that brought it +hither. It is not good for me to hear that voice.” + +The sculptor sighed, and left the poor penitent keeping his vigil on the +tower. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +DONATELLO’S BUST + + +Kenyon, it will be remembered, had asked Donatello’s permission to model +his bust. The work had now made considerable progress, and necessarily +kept the sculptor’s thoughts brooding much and often upon his host’s +personal characteristics. These it was his difficult office to bring out +from their depths, and interpret them to all men, showing them what they +could not discern for themselves, yet must be compelled to recognize at +a glance, on the surface of a block of marble. + +He had never undertaken a portrait-bust which gave him so much trouble +as Donatello’s; not that there was any special difficulty in hitting +the likeness, though even in this respect the grace and harmony of +the features seemed inconsistent with a prominent expression of +individuality; but he was chiefly perplexed how to make this genial and +kind type of countenance the index of the mind within. His acuteness and +his sympathies, indeed, were both somewhat at fault in their efforts +to enlighten him as to the moral phase through which the Count was now +passing. If at one sitting he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a +genuine and permanent trait, it would probably be less perceptible on +a second occasion, and perhaps have vanished entirely at a third. So +evanescent a show of character threw the sculptor into despair; not +marble or clay, but cloud and vapor, was the material in which it +ought to be represented. Even the ponderous depression which constantly +weighed upon Donatello’s heart could not compel him into the kind of +repose which the plastic art requires. + +Hopeless of a good result, Kenyon gave up all preconceptions about the +character of his subject, and let his hands work uncontrolled with the +clay, somewhat as a spiritual medium, while holding a pen, yields it +to an unseen guidance other than that of her own will. Now and then he +fancied that this plan was destined to be the successful one. A skill +and insight beyond his consciousness seemed occasionally to take up the +task. The mystery, the miracle, of imbuing an inanimate substance +with thought, feeling, and all the intangible attributes of the soul, +appeared on the verge of being wrought. And now, as he flattered +himself, the true image of his friend was about to emerge from the +facile material, bringing with it more of Donatello’s character than +the keenest observer could detect at any one moment in the face of the +original Vain expectation!--some touch, whereby the artist thought to +improve or hasten the result, interfered with the design of his unseen +spiritual assistant, and spoilt the whole. There was still the moist, +brown clay, indeed, and the features of Donatello, but without any +semblance of intelligent and sympathetic life. + +“The difficulty will drive me mad, I verily believe!” cried the sculptor +nervously. “Look at the wretched piece of work yourself, my dear friend, +and tell me whether you recognize any manner of likeness to your inner +man?” + +“None,” replied Donatello, speaking the simple truth. “It is like +looking a stranger in the face.” + +This frankly unfavorable testimony so wrought with the sensitive artist, +that he fell into a passion with the stubborn image, and cared not what +might happen to it thenceforward. Wielding that wonderful power which +sculptors possess over moist clay, however refractory it may show itself +in certain respects, he compressed, elongated, widened, and otherwise +altered the features of the bust in mere recklessness, and at every +change inquired of the Count whether the expression became anywise more +satisfactory. + +“Stop!” cried Donatello at last, catching the sculptor’s hand. “Let +it remain so!” By some accidental handling of the clay, entirely +independent of his own will, Kenyon had given the countenance a +distorted and violent look, combining animal fierceness with intelligent +hatred. Had Hilda, or had Miriam, seen the bust, with the expression +which it had now assumed, they might have recognized Donatello’s face as +they beheld it at that terrible moment when he held his victim over the +edge of the precipice. + +“What have I done?” said the sculptor, shocked at his own casual +production. “It were a sin to let the clay which bears your features +harden into a look like that. Cain never wore an uglier one.” + +“For that very reason, let it remain!” answered the Count, who had grown +pale as ashes at the aspect of his crime, thus strangely presented to +him in another of the many guises under which guilt stares the criminal +in the face. “Do not alter it! Chisel it, rather, in eternal marble! +I will set it up in my oratory and keep it continually before my eyes. +Sadder and more horrible is a face like this, alive with my own crime, +than the dead skull which my forefathers handed down to me!” + +But, without in the least heeding Donatello’s remonstrances, the +sculptor again applied his artful fingers to the clay, and compelled the +bust to dismiss the expression that had so startled them both. + +“Believe me,” said he, turning his eyes upon his friend, full of grave +and tender sympathy, “you know not what is requisite for your spiritual +growth, seeking, as you do, to keep your soul perpetually in the +unwholesome region of remorse. It was needful for you to pass through +that dark valley, but it is infinitely dangerous to linger there too +long; there is poison in the atmosphere, when we sit down and brood in +it, instead of girding up our loins to press onward. Not despondency, +not slothful anguish, is what you now require,--but effort! Has there +been an unalterable evil in your young life? Then crowd it out with +good, or it will lie corrupting there forever, and cause your capacity +for better things to partake its noisome corruption!” + +“You stir up many thoughts,” said Donatello, pressing his hand upon his +brow, “but the multitude and the whirl of them make me dizzy.” + +They now left the sculptor’s temporary studio, without observing that +his last accidental touches, with which he hurriedly effaced the look of +deadly rage, had given the bust a higher and sweeter expression than it +had hitherto worn. It is to be regretted that Kenyon had not seen +it; for only an artist, perhaps, can conceive the irksomeness, the +irritation of brain, the depression of spirits, that resulted from his +failure to satisfy himself, after so much toil and thought as he had +bestowed on Donatello’s bust. In case of success, indeed, all this +thoughtful toil would have been reckoned, not only as well bestowed, +but as among the happiest hours of his life; whereas, deeming himself to +have failed, it was just so much of life that had better never have +been lived; for thus does the good or ill result of his labor throw back +sunshine or gloom upon the artist’s mind. The sculptor, therefore, would +have done well to glance again at his work; for here were still the +features of the antique Faun, but now illuminated with a higher meaning, +such as the old marble never bore. + +Donatello having quitted him, Kenyon spent the rest of the day strolling +about the pleasant precincts of Monte Beni, where the summer was now +so far advanced that it began, indeed, to partake of the ripe wealth of +autumn. Apricots had long been abundant, and had passed away, and plums +and cherries along with them. But now came great, juicy pears, melting +and delicious, and peaches of goodly size and tempting aspect, though +cold and watery to the palate, compared with the sculptor’s rich +reminiscences of that fruit in America. The purple figs had already +enjoyed their day, and the white ones were luscious now. The contadini +(who, by this time, knew Kenyon well) found many clusters of ripe grapes +for him, in every little globe of which was included a fragrant draught +of the sunny Monte Beni wine. + +Unexpectedly, in a nook close by the farmhouse, he happened upon a spot +where the vintage had actually commenced. A great heap of early ripened +grapes had been gathered, and thrown into a mighty tub. In the middle +of it stood a lusty and jolly contadino, nor stood, merely, but stamped +with all his might, and danced amain; while the red juice bathed his +feet, and threw its foam midway up his brown and shaggy legs. Here, +then, was the very process that shows so picturesquely in Scripture +and in poetry, of treading out the wine-press and dyeing the feet and +garments with the crimson effusion as with the blood of a battlefield. +The memory of the process does not make the Tuscan wine taste more +deliciously. The contadini hospitably offered Kenyon a sample of the new +liquor, that had already stood fermenting for a day or two. He had tried +a similar draught, however, in years past, and was little inclined to +make proof of it again; for he knew that it would be a sour and bitter +juice, a wine of woe and tribulation, and that the more a man drinks of +such liquor, the sorrier he is likely to be. + +The scene reminded the sculptor of our New England vintages, where the +big piles of golden and rosy apples lie under the orchard trees, in the +mild, autumnal sunshine; and the creaking cider-mill, set in motion by +a circumgyratory horse, is all a-gush with the luscious juice. To speak +frankly, the cider-making is the more picturesque sight of the two, +and the new, sweet cider an infinitely better drink than the ordinary, +unripe Tuscan wine. Such as it is, however, the latter fills thousands +upon thousands of small, flat barrels, and, still growing thinner and +sharper, loses the little life it had, as wine, and becomes apotheosized +as a more praiseworthy vinegar. + +Yet all these vineyard scenes, and the processes connected with the +culture of the grape, had a flavor of poetry about them. The toil that +produces those kindly gifts of nature which are not the substance of +life, but its luxury, is unlike other toil. We are inclined to fancy +that it does not bend the sturdy frame and stiffen the overwrought +muscles, like the labor that is devoted in sad, hard earnest to +raise grain for sour bread. Certainly, the sunburnt young men and +dark-cheeked, laughing girls, who weeded the rich acres of Monte Beni, +might well enough have passed for inhabitants of an unsophisticated +Arcadia. Later in the season, when the true vintage time should come, +and the wine of Sunshine gush into the vats, it was hardly too wild a +dream that Bacchus himself might revisit the haunts which he loved of +old. But, alas! where now would he find the Faun with whom we see him +consorting in so many an antique group? + +Donatello’s remorseful anguish saddened this primitive and delightful +life. Kenyon had a pain of his own, moreover, although not all a pain, +in the never quiet, never satisfied yearning of his heart towards Hilda. +He was authorized to use little freedom towards that shy maiden, even +in his visions; so that he almost reproached himself when sometimes his +imagination pictured in detail the sweet years that they might spend +together, in a retreat like this. It had just that rarest quality of +remoteness from the actual and ordinary world B a remoteness +through which all delights might visit them freely, sifted from all +troubles--which lovers so reasonably insist upon, in their ideal +arrangements for a happy union. It is possible, indeed, that even +Donatello’s grief and Kenyon’s pale, sunless affection lent a charm +to Monte Beni, which it would not have retained amid a more abundant +joyousness. The sculptor strayed amid its vineyards and orchards, +its dells and tangled shrubberies, with somewhat the sensations of an +adventurer who should find his way to the site of ancient Eden, and +behold its loveliness through the transparency of that gloom which has +been brooding over those haunts of innocence ever since the fall. Adam +saw it in a brighter sunshine, but never knew the shade of Pensive +beauty which Eden won from his expulsion. + +It was in the decline of the afternoon that Kenyon returned from his +long, musing ramble, Old Tomaso--between whom and himself for some time +past there had been a mysterious understanding,--met him in the entrance +hall, and drew him a little aside. + +“The signorina would speak with you,” he whispered. + +“In the chapel?” asked the sculptor. + +“No; in the saloon beyond it,” answered the butler: “the entrance you +once saw the signorina appear through it is near the altar, hidden +behind the tapestry.” + +Kenyon lost no time in obeying the summons. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +THE MARBLE SALOON + + +In an old Tuscan villa, a chapel ordinarily makes one among the numerous +apartments; though it often happens that the door is permanently closed, +the key lost, and the place left to itself, in dusty sanctity, like that +chamber in man’s heart where he hides his religious awe. This was very +much the case with the chapel of Monte Beni. One rainy day, however, +in his wanderings through the great, intricate house, Kenyon had +unexpectedly found his way into it, and been impressed by its solemn +aspect. The arched windows, high upward in the wall, and darkened with +dust and cobweb, threw down a dim light that showed the altar, with a +picture of a martyrdom above, and some tall tapers ranged before it. +They had apparently been lighted, and burned an hour or two, and been +extinguished perhaps half a century before. The marble vase at the +entrance held some hardened mud at the bottom, accruing from the dust +that had settled in it during the gradual evaporation of the holy water; +and a spider (being an insect that delights in pointing the moral of +desolation and neglect) had taken pains to weave a prodigiously thick +tissue across the circular brim. An old family banner, tattered by +the moths, drooped from the vaulted roof. In niches there were some +mediaeval busts of Donatello’s forgotten ancestry; and among them, it +might be, the forlorn visage of that hapless knight between whom and the +fountain-nymph had occurred such tender love passages. + +Throughout all the jovial prosperity of Monte Beni, this one spot within +the domestic walls had kept itself silent, stern, and sad. When the +individual or the family retired from song and mirth, they here sought +those realities which men do not invite their festive associates to +share. And here, on the occasion above referred to, the sculptor had +discovered--accidentally, so far as he was concerned, though with a +purpose on her part--that there was a guest under Donatello’s roof, +whose presence the Count did not suspect. An interview had since taken +place, and he was now summoned to another. + +He crossed the chapel, in compliance with Tomaso’s instructions, and, +passing through the side entrance, found himself in a saloon, of no +great size, but more magnificent than he had supposed the villa to +contain. As it was vacant, Kenyon had leisure to pace it once or twice, +and examine it with a careless sort of scrutiny, before any person +appeared. + +This beautiful hall was floored with rich marbles, in artistically +arranged figures and compartments. The walls, likewise, were almost +entirely cased in marble of various kinds, the prevalent, variety +being giallo antico, intermixed with verd-antique, and others equally +precious. The splendor of the giallo antico, however, was what gave +character to the saloon; and the large and deep niches, apparently +intended for full length statues, along the walls, were lined with the +same costly material. Without visiting Italy, one can have no idea of +the beauty and magnificence that are produced by these fittings-up of +polished marble. Without such experience, indeed, we do not even know +what marble means, in any sense, save as the white limestone of which +we carve our mantelpieces. This rich hall of Monte Beni, moreover, was +adorned, at its upper end, with two pillars that seemed to consist of +Oriental alabaster; and wherever there was a space vacant of precious +and variegated marble, it was frescoed with ornaments in arabesque. +Above, there was a coved and vaulted ceiling, glowing with pictured +scenes, which affected Kenyon with a vague sense of splendor, without +his twisting his neck to gaze at them. + +It is one of the special excellences of such a saloon of polished and +richly colored marble, that decay can never tarnish it. Until the house +crumbles down upon it, it shines indestructibly, and, with a little +dusting, looks just as brilliant in its three hundredth year as the day +after the final slab of giallo antico was fitted into the wall. To the +sculptor, at this first View of it, it seemed a hall where the sun was +magically imprisoned, and must always shine. He anticipated Miriam’s +entrance, arrayed in queenly robes, and beaming with even more than the +singular beauty that had heretofore distinguished her. + +While this thought was passing through his mind, the pillared door, at +the upper end of the saloon, was partly opened, and Miriam appeared. She +was very pale, and dressed in deep mourning. As she advanced towards the +sculptor, the feebleness of her step was so apparent that he made haste +to meet her, apprehending that she might sink down on the marble floor, +without the instant support of his arm. + +But, with a gleam of her natural self-reliance, she declined his aid, +and, after touching her cold hand to his, went and sat down on one of +the cushioned divans that were ranged against the wall. + +“You are very ill, Miriam!” said Kenyon, much shocked at her appearance. +“I had not thought of this.” + +“No; not so ill as I seem to you,” she answered; adding despondently, +“yet I am ill enough, I believe, to die, unless some change speedily +occurs.” + +“What, then, is your disorder?” asked the sculptor; “and what the +remedy?” + +“The disorder!” repeated Miriam. “There is none that I know of save too +much life and strength, without a purpose for one or the other. It is +my too redundant energy that is slowly--or perhaps rapidly--wearing me +away, because I can apply it to no use. The object, which I am bound to +consider my only one on earth, fails me utterly. The sacrifice which I +yearn to make of myself, my hopes, my everything, is coldly put aside. +Nothing is left for me but to brood, brood, brood, all day, all night, +in unprofitable longings and repinings.” + +“This is very sad, Miriam,” said Kenyon. + +“Ay, indeed; I fancy so,” she replied, with a short, unnatural laugh. + +“With all your activity of mind,” resumed he, “so fertile in plans as +I have known you, can you imagine no method of bringing your resources +into play?” + +“My mind is not active any longer,” answered Miriam, in a cold, +indifferent tone. “It deals with one thought and no more. One +recollection paralyzes it. It is not remorse; do not think it! I put +myself out of the question, and feel neither regret nor penitence on +my own behalf. But what benumbs me, what robs me of all power,-it is +no secret for a woman to tell a man, yet I care not though you know it, +--is the certainty that I am, and must ever be, an object of horror in +Donatello’s sight.” + +The sculptor--a young man, and cherishing a love which insulated +him from the wild experiences which some men gather--was startled to +perceive how Miriam’s rich, ill-regulated nature impelled her to +fling herself, conscience and all, on one passion, the object of which +intellectually seemed far beneath her. + +“How have you obtained the certainty of which you speak?” asked he, +after a pause. + +“O, by a sure token,” said Miriam; “a gesture, merely; a shudder, a cold +shiver, that ran through him one sunny morning when his hand happened to +touch mine! But it was enough.” + +“I firmly believe, Miriam,” said the sculptor, “that he loves you +still.” + +She started, and a flush of color came tremulously over the paleness of +her cheek. + +“Yes,” repeated Kenyon, “if my interest in Donatello--and in yourself, +Miriam--endows me with any true insight, he not only loves you still, +but with a force and depth proportioned to the stronger grasp of his +faculties, in their new development.” + +“Do not deceive me,” said Miriam, growing pale again. + +“Not for the world!” replied Kenyon. “Here is what I take to be +the truth. There was an interval, no doubt, when the horror of some +calamity, which I need not shape out in my conjectures, threw Donatello +into a stupor of misery. Connected with the first shock there was an +intolerable pain and shuddering repugnance attaching themselves to +all the circumstances and surroundings of the event that so terribly +affected him. Was his dearest friend involved within the horror of that +moment? He would shrink from her as he shrank most of all from himself. +But as his mind roused itself,--as it rose to a higher life than he had +hitherto experienced,--whatever had been true and permanent within him +revived by the selfsame impulse. So has it been with his love.” + +“But, surely,” said Miriam, “he knows that I am here! Why, then, except +that I am odious to him, does he not bid me welcome?” + +“He is, I believe, aware of your presence here,” answered the sculptor. +“Your song, a night or two ago, must have revealed it to him, and, in +truth, I had fancied that there was already a consciousness of it in +his mind. But, the more passionately he longs for your society, the more +religiously he deems himself bound to avoid it. The idea of a lifelong +penance has taken strong possession of Donatello. He gropes blindly +about him for some method of sharp self-torture, and finds, of course, +no other so efficacious as this.” + +“But he loves me,” repeated Miriam, in a low voice, to herself. “Yes; he +loves me!” + +It was strange to observe the womanly softness that came over her, +as she admitted that comfort into her bosom. The cold, unnatural +indifference of her manner, a kind of frozen passionateness which had +shocked and chilled the sculptor, disappeared. She blushed, and turned +away her eyes, knowing that there was more surprise and joy in their +dewy glances than any man save one ought to detect there. + +“In other respects,” she inquired at length, “is he much changed?” + +“A wonderful process is going forward in Donatello’s mind,” answered the +sculptor. “The germs of faculties that have heretofore slept are fast +springing into activity. The world of thought is disclosing itself to +his inward sight. He startles me, at times, with his perception of deep +truths; and, quite as often, it must be owned, he compels me to smile by +the intermixture of his former simplicity with a new intelligence. But +he is bewildered with the revelations that each day brings. Out of +his bitter agony, a soul and intellect, I could almost say, have been +inspired into him.” + +“Ah, I could help him here!” cried Miriam, clasping her hands. “And +how sweet a toil to bend and adapt my whole nature to do him good! To +instruct, to elevate, to enrich his mind with the wealth that would flow +in upon me, had I such a motive for acquiring it! Who else can perform +the task? Who else has the tender sympathy which he requires? Who else, +save only me,--a woman, a sharer in the same dread secret, a partaker in +one identical guilt,--could meet him on such terms of intimate equality +as the case demands? With this object before me, I might feel a right to +live! Without it, it is a shame for me to have lived so long.” + +“I fully agree with you,” said Kenyon, “that your true place is by his +side.” + +“Surely it is,” replied Miriam. “If Donatello is entitled to aught on +earth, it is to my complete self-sacrifice for his sake. It does not +weaken his claim, methinks, that my only prospect of happiness a +fearful word, however lies in the good that may accrue to him from our +intercourse. But he rejects me! He will not listen to the whisper of his +heart, telling him that she, most wretched, who beguiled him into evil, +might guide him to a higher innocence than that from which he fell. How +is this first great difficulty to be obviated?” + +“It lies at your own option, Miriam, to do away the obstacle, at any +moment,” remarked the sculptor. “It is but to ascend Donatello’s tower, +and you will meet him there, under the eye of God.” + +“I dare not,” answered Miriam. “No; I dare not!” + +“Do you fear,” asked the sculptor, “the dread eye-witness whom I have +named?” + +“No; for, as far as I can see into that cloudy and inscrutable thing, my +heart, it has none but pure motives,” replied Miriam. “But, my friend, +you little know what a weak or what a strong creature a woman is! I +fear not Heaven, in this case, at least, but--shall I confess it? I +am greatly in dread of Donatello. Once he shuddered at my touch. If he +shudder once again, or frown, I die!” + +Kenyon could not but marvel at the subjection into which this proud and +self-dependent woman had willfully flung herself, hanging her life upon +the chance of an angry or favorable regard from a person who, a little +while before, had seemed the plaything of a moment. But, in Miriam’s +eyes, Donatello was always, thenceforth, invested with the tragic +dignity of their hour of crime; and, furthermore, the keen and deep +insight, with which her love endowed her, enabled her to know him +far better than he could be known by ordinary observation. Beyond all +question, since she loved him so, there was a force in Donatello worthy +of her respect and love. + +“You see my weakness,” said Miriam, flinging out her hands, as a person +does when a defect is acknowledged, and beyond remedy. “What I need, +now, is an opportunity to show my strength.” + +“It has occurred to me,” Kenyon remarked, “that the time is come when +it may be desirable to remove Donatello from the complete seclusion in +which he buries himself. He has struggled long enough with one idea. +He now needs a variety of thought, which cannot be otherwise so readily +supplied to him, as through the medium of a variety of scenes. His mind +is awakened, now; his heart, though full of pain, is no longer benumbed. +They should have food and solace. If he linger here much longer, I fear +that he may sink back into a lethargy. The extreme excitability, which +circumstances have imparted to his moral system, has its dangers and +its advantages; it being one of the dangers, that an obdurate scar may +supervene upon its very tenderness. Solitude has done what it could for +him; now, for a while, let him be enticed into the outer world.” + +“What is your plan, then?” asked Miriam. + +“Simply,” replied Kenyon, “to persuade Donatello to be my companion in +a ramble among these hills and valleys. The little adventures and +vicissitudes of travel will do him infinite good. After his recent +profound experience, he will re-create the world by the new eyes with +which he will regard it. He will escape, I hope, out of a morbid life, +and find his way into a healthy one.” + +“And what is to be my part in this process?” inquired Miriam sadly, and +not without jealousy. “You are taking him from me, and putting yourself, +and all manner of living interests, into the place which I ought to +fill!” + +“It would rejoice me, Miriam, to yield the entire responsibility of this +office to yourself,” answered the sculptor. “I do not pretend to be +the guide and counsellor whom Donatello needs; for, to mention no +other obstacle, I am a man, and between man and man there is always an +insuperable gulf. They can never quite grasp each other’s hands; and +therefore man never derives any intimate help, any heart sustenance, +from his brother man, but from woman--his mother, his sister, or his +wife. Be Donatello’s friend at need, therefore, and most gladly will I +resign him!” + +“It is not kind to taunt me thus,” said Miriam. “I have told you that I +cannot do what you suggest, because I dare not.” + +“Well, then,” rejoined the sculptor, “see if there is any possibility of +adapting yourself to my scheme. The incidents of a journey often fling +people together in the oddest and therefore the most natural way. +Supposing you were to find yourself on the same route, a reunion with +Donatello might ensue, and Providence have a larger hand in it than +either of us.” + +“It is not a hopeful plan,” said Miriam, shaking her head, after a +moment’s thought; “yet I will not reject it without a trial. Only in +case it fail, here is a resolution to which I bind myself, come what +come may! You know the bronze statue of Pope Julius in the great square +of Perugia? I remember standing in the shadow of that statue one sunny +noontime, and being impressed by its paternal aspect, and fancying that +a blessing fell upon me from its outstretched hand. Ever since, I have +had a superstition, you will call it foolish, but sad and ill-fated +persons always dream such things,--that, if I waited long enough in +that same spot, some good event would come to pass. Well, my friend, +precisely a fortnight after you begin your tour,--unless we sooner +meet,--bring Donatello, at noon, to the base of the statue. You will +find me there!” + +Kenyon assented to the proposed arrangement, and, after some +conversation respecting his contemplated line of travel, prepared to +take his leave. As he met Miriam’s eyes, in bidding farewell, he was +surprised at the new, tender gladness that beamed out of them, and at +the appearance of health and bloom, which, in this little while, had +overspread her face.’ + +“May I tell you, Miriam,” said he, smiling, “that you are still as +beautiful as ever?” + +“You have a right to notice it,” she replied, “for, if it be so, my +faded bloom has been revived by the hopes you give me. Do you, then, +think me beautiful? I rejoice, most truly. Beauty--if I possess +it--shall be one of the instruments by which I will try to educate and +elevate him, to whose good I solely dedicate myself.” + +The sculptor had nearly reached the door, when, hearing her call him, he +turned back, and beheld Miriam still standing where he had left her, in +the magnificent hall which seemed only a fit setting for her beauty. She +beckoned him to return. + +“You are a man of refined taste,” said she; “more than that,--a man of +delicate sensibility. Now tell me frankly, and on your honor! Have I not +shocked you many times during this interview by my betrayal of woman’s +cause, my lack of feminine modesty, my reckless, passionate, most +indecorous avowal, that I live only in the life of one who, perhaps, +scorns and shudders at me?” + +Thus adjured, however difficult the point to which she brought him, the +sculptor was not a man to swerve aside from the simple truth. + +“Miriam,” replied he, “you exaggerate the impression made upon my +mind; but it has been painful, and somewhat of the character which you +suppose.” + +“I knew it,” said Miriam, mournfully, and with no resentment. “What +remains of my finer nature would have told me so, even if it had not +been perceptible in all your manner. Well, my dear friend, when you +go back to Rome, tell Hilda what her severity has done! She was all +womanhood to me; and when she cast me off, I had no longer any terms to +keep with the reserves and decorums of my sex. Hilda has set me free! +Pray tell her so, from Miriam, and thank her!” + +“I shall tell Hilda nothing that will give her pain,” answered Kenyon. +“But, Miriam, though I know not what passed between her and yourself, I +feel,--and let the noble frankness of your disposition forgive me if +I say so,--I feel that she was right. You have a thousand admirable +qualities. Whatever mass of evil may have fallen into your life, +--pardon me, but your own words suggest it,--you are still as capable +as ever of many high and heroic virtues. But the white shining purity +of Hilda’s nature is a thing apart; and she is bound, by the undefiled +material of which God moulded her, to keep that severity which I, as +well as you, have recognized.” + +“O, you are right!” said Miriam; “I never questioned it; though, as +I told you, when she cast me off, it severed some few remaining bonds +between me and decorous womanhood. But were there anything to forgive, I +do forgive her. May you win her virgin heart; for methinks there can +be few men in this evil world who are not more unworthy of her than +yourself.” + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +SCENES BY THE WAY + + +When it came to the point of quitting the reposeful life of Monte Beni, +the sculptor was not without regrets, and would willingly have dreamed a +little longer of the sweet paradise on earth that Hilda’s presence +there might make. Nevertheless, amid all its repose, he had begun to be +sensible of a restless melancholy, to which the cultivators of the ideal +arts are more liable than sturdier men. On his own part, therefore, and +leaving Donatello out of the case, he would have judged it well to go. +He made parting visits to the legendary dell, and to other delightful +spots with which he had grown familiar; he climbed the tower again, and +saw a sunset and a moonrise over the great valley; he drank, on the +eve of his departure, one flask, and then another, of the Monte Beni +Sunshine, and stored up its flavor in his memory as the standard of what +is exquisite in wine. These things accomplished, Kenyon was ready for +the journey. + +Donatello had not very easily been stirred out of the peculiar +sluggishness, which enthralls and bewitches melancholy people. He had +offered merely a passive resistance, however, not an active one, to his +friend’s schemes; and when the appointed hour came, he yielded to the +impulse which Kenyon failed not to apply; and was started upon the +journey before he had made up his mind to undertake it. They wandered +forth at large, like two knights-errant, among the valleys, and the +mountains, and the old mountain towns of that picturesque and +lovely region. Save to keep the appointment with Miriam, a fortnight +thereafter, in the great square of Perugia, there was nothing more +definite in the sculptor’s plan than that they should let themselves +be blown hither and thither like Winged seeds, that mount upon each +wandering breeze. Yet there was an idea of fatality implied in the +simile of the winged seeds which did not altogether suit Kenyon’s fancy; +for, if you look closely into the matter, it will be seen that whatever +appears most vagrant, and utterly purposeless, turns out, in the end, +to have been impelled the most surely on a preordained and unswerving +track. Chance and change love to deal with men’s settled plans, not with +their idle vagaries. If we desire unexpected and unimaginable events, +we should contrive an iron framework, such as we fancy may compel the +future to take one inevitable shape; then comes in the unexpected, and +shatters our design in fragments. + +The travellers set forth on horseback, and purposed to perform much of +their aimless journeyings under the moon, and in the cool of the morning +or evening twilight; the midday sun, while summer had hardly begun to +trail its departing skirts over Tuscany, being still too fervid to allow +of noontide exposure. + +For a while, they wandered in that same broad valley which Kenyon had +viewed with such delight from the Monte Beni tower. The sculptor soon +began to enjoy the idle activity of their new life, which the lapse of +a day or two sufficed to establish as a kind of system; it is so natural +for mankind to be nomadic, that a very little taste of that primitive +mode of existence subverts the settled habits of many preceding years. +Kenyon’s cares, and whatever gloomy ideas before possessed him, seemed +to be left at Monte Beni, and were scarcely remembered by the time +that its gray tower grew undistinguishable on the brown hillside. His +perceptive faculties, which had found little exercise of late, amid so +thoughtful a way of life, became keen, and kept his eyes busy with a +hundred agreeable scenes. + +He delighted in the picturesque bits of rustic character and manners, so +little of which ever comes upon the surface of our life at home. There, +for example, were the old women, tending pigs or sheep by the wayside. +As they followed the vagrant steps of their charge, these venerable +ladies kept spinning yarn with that elsewhere forgotten contrivance, +the distaff; and so wrinkled and stern looking were they, that you might +have taken them for the Parcae, spinning the threads of human destiny. +In contrast with their great-grandmothers were the children, leading +goats of shaggy beard, tied by the horns, and letting them browse on +branch and shrub. It is the fashion of Italy to add the petty industry +of age and childhood to the hum of human toil. To the eyes of an +observer from the Western world, it was a strange spectacle to see +sturdy, sunburnt creatures, in petticoats, but otherwise manlike, +toiling side by side with male laborers, in the rudest work of the +fields. These sturdy women (if as such we must recognize them) wore the +high-crowned, broad brimmed hat of Tuscan straw, the customary female +head-apparel; and, as every breeze blew back its breadth of brim, the +sunshine constantly added depth to the brown glow of their cheeks. The +elder sisterhood, however, set off their witch-like ugliness to the +worst advantage with black felt hats, bequeathed them, one would fancy, +by their long-buried husbands. + +Another ordinary sight, as sylvan as the above and more agreeable, was +a girl, bearing on her back a huge bundle of green twigs and shrubs, +or grass, intermixed with scarlet poppies and blue flowers; the verdant +burden being sometimes of such size as to hide the bearer’s figure, and +seem a self-moving mass of fragrant bloom and verdure. Oftener, however, +the bundle reached only halfway down the back of the rustic nymph, +leaving in sight her well-developed lower limbs, and the crooked knife, +hanging behind her, with which she had been reaping this strange +harvest sheaf. A pre-Raphaelite artist (he, for instance, who painted +so marvellously a wind-swept heap of autumnal leaves) might find an +admirable subject in one of these Tuscan girls, stepping with a free, +erect, and graceful carriage. The miscellaneous herbage and tangled +twigs and blossoms of her bundle, crowning her head (while her ruddy, +comely face looks out between the hanging side festoons like a +larger flower), would give the painter boundless scope for the minute +delineation which he loves. + +Though mixed up with what was rude and earthlike, there was still a +remote, dreamlike, Arcadian charm, which is scarcely to be found in the +daily toil of other lands. Among the pleasant features of the wayside +were always the vines, clambering on fig-trees, or other sturdy trunks; +they wreathed themselves in huge and rich festoons from one tree to +another, suspending clusters of ripening grapes in the interval between. +Under such careless mode of culture, the luxuriant vine is a lovelier +spectacle than where it produces a more precious liquor, and is +therefore more artificially restrained and trimmed. Nothing can be +more picturesque than an old grapevine, with almost a trunk of its own, +clinging fast around its supporting tree. Nor does the picture lack its +moral. You might twist it to more than one grave purpose, as you saw how +the knotted, serpentine growth imprisoned within its strong embrace +the friend that had supported its tender infancy; and how (as seemingly +flexible natures are prone to do) it converted the sturdier tree +entirely to its own selfish ends, extending its innumerable arms on +every bough, and permitting hardly a leaf to sprout except its own. It +occurred to Kenyon, that the enemies of the vine, in his native land, +might here have seen an emblem of the remorseless gripe, which the habit +of vinous enjoyment lays upon its victim, possessing him wholly, and +letting him live no life but such as it bestows. + +The scene was not less characteristic when their path led the two +wanderers through some small, ancient town. There, besides the +peculiarities of present life, they saw tokens of the life that had long +ago been lived and flung aside. The little town, such as we see in our +mind’s eye, would have its gate and its surrounding walls, so ancient +and massive that ages had not sufficed to crumble them away; but in the +lofty upper portion of the gateway, still standing over the empty arch, +where there was no longer a gate to shut, there would be a dove-cote, +and peaceful doves for the only warders. Pumpkins lay ripening in the +open chambers of the structure. Then, as for the town wall, on the +outside an orchard extends peacefully along its base, full, not of +apple-trees, but of those old humorists with gnarled trunks and twisted +boughs, the olives. Houses have been built upon the ramparts, or +burrowed out of their ponderous foundation. Even the gray, martial +towers, crowned with ruined turrets, have been converted into rustic +habitations, from the windows of which hang ears of Indian corn. At a +door, that has been broken through the massive stonework where it +was meant to be strongest, some contadini are winnowing grain. Small +windows, too, are pierced through the whole line of ancient wall, so +that it seems a row of dwellings with one continuous front, built in a +strange style of needless strength; but remnants of the old battlements +and machicolations are interspersed with the homely chambers and +earthen-tiled housetops; and all along its extent both grapevines and +running flower-shrubs are encouraged to clamber and sport over the +roughness of its decay. + +Finally the long grass, intermixed with weeds and wild flowers, waves +on the uppermost height of the shattered rampart; and it is exceedingly +pleasant in the golden sunshine of the afternoon to behold the warlike +precinct so friendly in its old days, and so overgrown with rural +peace. In its guard rooms, its prison chambers, and scooped out of its +ponderous breadth, there are dwellings nowadays where happy human lives +are spent. Human parents and broods of children nestle in them, even as +the swallows nestle in the little crevices along the broken summit of +the wall. + +Passing through the gateway of this same little town, challenged only +by those watchful sentinels, the pigeons, we find ourselves in a long, +narrow street, paved from side to side with flagstones, in the old Roman +fashion. Nothing can exceed the grim ugliness of the houses, most of +which are three or four stories high, stone built, gray, dilapidated, or +half-covered with plaster in patches, and contiguous all along from +end to end of the town. Nature, in the shape of tree, shrub, or grassy +sidewalk, is as much shut out from the one street of the rustic village +as from the heart of any swarming city. The dark and half ruinous +habitations, with their small windows, many of which are drearily closed +with wooden shutters, are but magnified hovels, piled story upon story, +and squalid with the grime that successive ages have left behind them. +It would be a hideous scene to contemplate in a rainy day, or when +no human life pervaded it. In the summer noon, however, it possesses +vivacity enough to keep itself cheerful; for all the within-doors of +the village then bubbles over upon the flagstones, or looks out from the +small windows, and from here and there a balcony. Some of the populace +are at the butcher’s shop; others are at the fountain, which gushes into +a marble basin that resembles an antique sarcophagus. A tailor is sewing +before his door with a young priest seated sociably beside him; a burly +friar goes by with an empty wine-barrel on his head; children are at +play; women, at their own doorsteps, mend clothes, embroider, weave hats +of Tuscan straw, or twirl the distaff. Many idlers, meanwhile, strolling +from one group to another, let the warm day slide by in the sweet, +interminable task of doing nothing. + +From all these people there comes a babblement that seems quite +disproportioned to the number of tongues that make it. So many words are +not uttered in a New England village throughout the year--except it +be at a political canvass or town-meeting--as are spoken here, with no +especial purpose, in a single day. Neither so many words, nor so much +laughter; for people talk about nothing as if they were terribly +in earnest, and make merry at nothing as if it were the best of all +possible jokes. In so long a time as they have existed, and within such +narrow precincts, these little walled towns are brought into a closeness +of society that makes them but a larger household. All the inhabitants +are akin to each, and each to all; they assemble in the street as their +common saloon, and thus live and die in a familiarity of intercourse, +such as never can be known where a village is open at either end, and +all roundabout, and has ample room within itself. + +Stuck up beside the door of one house, in this village street, is a +withered bough; and on a stone seat, just under the shadow of the +bough, sits a party of jolly drinkers, making proof of the new wine, or +quaffing the old, as their often-tried and comfortable friend. Kenyon +draws bridle here (for the bough, or bush, is a symbol of the wine-shop +at this day in Italy, as it was three hundred years ago in England), and +calls for a goblet of the deep, mild, purple juice, well diluted with +water from the fountain. The Sunshine of Monte Beni would be welcome +now. Meanwhile, Donatello has ridden onward, but alights where a shrine, +with a burning lamp before it, is built into the wall of an inn stable. +He kneels and crosses himself, and mutters a brief prayer, without +attracting notice from the passers-by, many of whom are parenthetically +devout in a similar fashion. By this time the sculptor has drunk off his +wine-and-water, and our two travellers resume their way, emerging from +the opposite gate of the village. + +Before them, again, lies the broad valley, with a mist so thinly +scattered over it as to be perceptible only in the distance, and most so +in the nooks of the hills. Now that we have called it mist, it seems +a mistake not rather to have called it sunshine; the glory of so much +light being mingled with so little gloom, in the airy material of that +vapor. Be it mist or sunshine, it adds a touch of ideal beauty to the +scene, almost persuading the spectator that this valley and those hills +are visionary, because their visible atmosphere is so like the substance +of a dream. + +Immediately about them, however, there were abundant tokens that the +country was not really the paradise it looked to be, at a casual glance. +Neither the wretched cottages nor the dreary farmhouses seemed to +partake of the prosperity, with which so kindly a climate, and so +fertile a portion of Mother Earth’s bosom, should have filled them, one +and all. But possibly the peasant inhabitants do not exist in so grimy +a poverty, and in homes so comfortless, as a stranger, with his native +ideas of those matters, would be likely to imagine. The Italians appear +to possess none of that emulative pride which we see in our New England +villages, where every householder, according to his taste and +means, endeavors to make his homestead an ornament to the grassy +and elm-shadowed wayside. In Italy there are no neat doorsteps +and thresholds; no pleasant, vine-sheltered porches; none of those +grass-plots or smoothly shorn lawns, which hospitably invite the +imagination into the sweet domestic interiors of English life. +Everything, however sunny and luxuriant may be the scene around, is +especially disheartening in the immediate neighborhood of an Italian +home. + +An artist, it is true, might often thank his stars for those old houses, +so picturesquely time-stained, and with the plaster falling in blotches +from the ancient brick-work. The prison-like, iron-barred windows, and +the wide arched, dismal entrance, admitting on one hand to the stable, +on the other to the kitchen, might impress him as far better worth +his pencil than the newly painted pine boxes, in which--if he be an +American--his countrymen live and thrive. But there is reason to suspect +that a people are waning to decay and ruin the moment that their life +becomes fascinating either in the poet’s imagination or the painter’s +eye. + +As usual on Italian waysides, the wanderers passed great, black crosses, +hung with all the instruments of the sacred agony and passion: there +were the crown of thorns, the hammer and nails, the pincers, the spear, +the sponge; and perched over the whole, the cock that crowed to St. +Peter’s remorseful conscience. Thus, while the fertile scene showed the +never-failing beneficence of the Creator towards man in his transitory +state, these symbols reminded each wayfarer of the Saviour’s infinitely +greater love for him as an immortal spirit. Beholding these consecrated +stations, the idea seemed to strike Donatello of converting the +otherwise aimless journey into a penitential pilgrimage. At each of them +he alighted to kneel and kiss the cross, and humbly press his forehead +against its foot; and this so invariably, that the sculptor soon learned +to draw bridle of his own accord. It may be, too, heretic as he was, +that Kenyon likewise put up a prayer, rendered more fervent by the +symbols before his eyes, for the peace of his friend’s conscience and +the pardon of the sin that so oppressed him. + +Not only at the crosses did Donatello kneel, but at each of the many +shrines, where the Blessed Virgin in fresco--faded with sunshine and +half washed out with showers--looked benignly at her worshipper; or +where she was represented in a wooden image, or a bas-relief of plaster +or marble, as accorded with the means of the devout person who built, +or restored from a mediaeval antiquity, these places of wayside worship. +They were everywhere: under arched niches, or in little penthouses with +a brick tiled roof just large enough to shelter them; or perhaps in +some bit of old Roman masonry, the founders of which had died before the +Advent; or in the wall of a country inn or farmhouse; or at the midway +point of a bridge; or in the shallow cavity of a natural rock; or high +upward in the deep cuts of the road. It appeared to the sculptor that +Donatello prayed the more earnestly and the more hopefully at these +shrines, because the mild face of the Madonna promised him to intercede +as a tender mother betwixt the poor culprit and the awfulness of +judgment. + +It was beautiful to observe, indeed, how tender was the soul of man and +woman towards the Virgin mother, in recognition of the tenderness which, +as their faith taught them, she immortally cherishes towards all human +souls. In the wire-work screen ‘before each shrine hung offerings of +roses, or whatever flower was sweetest and most seasonable; some already +wilted and withered, some fresh with that very morning’s dewdrops. +Flowers there were, too, that, being artificial, never bloomed on earth, +nor would ever fade. The thought occurred to Kenyon, that flower-pots +with living plants might be set within the niches, or even that +rose-trees, and all kinds of flowering shrubs, might be reared under the +shrines, and taught to twine and wreathe themselves around; so that +the Virgin should dwell within a bower of verdure, bloom, and fragrant +freshness, symbolizing a homage perpetually new. There are many things +in the religious customs of these people that seem good; many things, +at least, that might be both good and beautiful, if the soul of goodness +and the sense of beauty were as much alive in the Italians now as they +must have been when those customs were first imagined and adopted. But, +instead of blossoms on the shrub, or freshly gathered, with the dewdrops +on their leaves, their worship, nowadays, is best symbolized by the +artificial flower. + +The sculptor fancied, moreover (but perhaps it was his heresy that +suggested the idea), that it would be of happy influence to place a +comfortable and shady seat beneath every wayside shrine. Then the weary +and sun-scorched traveller, while resting himself under her protecting +shadow, might thank the Virgin for her hospitality. Nor, perchance, +were he to regale himself, even in such a consecrated spot, with the +fragrance of a pipe, would it rise to heaven more offensively than +the smoke of priestly incense. We do ourselves wrong, and too meanly +estimate the Holiness above us, when we deem that any act or enjoyment, +good in itself, is not good to do religiously. + +Whatever may be the iniquities of the papal system, it was a wise and +lovely sentiment that set up the frequent shrine and cross along the +roadside. No wayfarer, bent on whatever worldly errand, can fail to be +reminded, at every mile or two, that this is not the business which +most concerns him. The pleasure-seeker is silently admonished to look +heavenward for a joy infinitely greater than he now possesses. The +wretch in temptation beholds the cross, and is warned that, if he yield, +the Saviour’s agony for his sake will have been endured in vain. The +stubborn criminal, whose heart has long been like a stone, feels it +throb anew with dread and hope; and our poor Donatello, as he went +kneeling from shrine to cross, and from cross to shrine, doubtless found +an efficacy in these symbols that helped him towards a higher penitence. + +Whether the young Count of Monte Beni noticed the fact, or no, there was +more than one incident of their journey that led Kenyon to believe that +they were attended, or closely followed, or preceded, near at hand, by +some one who took an interest in their motions. As it were, the +step, the sweeping garment, the faintly heard breath, of an invisible +companion, was beside them, as they went on their way. It was like a +dream that had strayed out of their slumber, and was haunting them in +the daytime, when its shadowy substance could have neither density nor +outline, in the too obtrusive light. After sunset, it grew a little more +distinct. + +“On the left of that last shrine,” asked the sculptor, as they rode, +under the moon, “did you observe the figure of a woman kneeling, with +her, face hidden in her hands?” + +“I never looked that way,” replied Donatello. “I was saying my own +prayer. It was some penitent, perchance. May the Blessed Virgin be the +more gracious to the poor soul, because she is a woman.” + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +PICTURED WINDOWS + + +After wide wanderings through the valley, the two travellers directed +their course towards its boundary of hills. Here, the natural scenery +and men’s modifications of it immediately took a different aspect from +that of the fertile and smiling plain. Not unfrequently there was a +convent on the hillside; or, on some insulated promontory, a mined +castle, once the den of a robber chieftain, who was accustomed to dash +down from his commanding height upon the road that wound below. For ages +back, the old fortress had been flinging down its crumbling ramparts, +stone by stone, towards the grimy village at its foot. + +Their road wound onward among the hills, which rose steep and lofty from +the scanty level space that lay between them. They continually thrust +their great bulks before the wayfarers, as if grimly resolute to forbid +their passage, or closed abruptly behind them, when they still dared to +proceed. A gigantic hill would set its foot right down before them, and +only at the last moment would grudgingly withdraw it, just far enough to +let them creep towards another obstacle. Adown these rough heights were +visible the dry tracks of many a mountain torrent that had lived a life +too fierce and passionate to be a long one. Or, perhaps, a stream was +yet hurrying shyly along the edge of a far wider bed of pebbles and +shelving rock than it seemed to need, though not too wide for the +swollen rage of which this shy rivulet was capable. A stone bridge +bestrode it, the ponderous arches of which were upheld and rendered +indestructible by the weight of the very stones that threatened to crush +them down. Old Roman toil was perceptible in the foundations of that +massive bridge; the first weight that it ever bore was that of an army +of the Republic. + +Threading these defiles, they would arrive at some immemorial city, +crowning the high summit of a hill with its cathedral, its many +churches, and public edifices, all of Gothic architecture. With no more +level ground than a single piazza in the midst, the ancient town tumbled +its crooked and narrow streets down the mountainside, through arched +passages and by steps of stone. The aspect of everything was awfully +old; older, indeed, in its effect on the imagination than Rome itself, +because history does not lay its finger on these forgotten edifices and +tell us all about their origin. Etruscan princes may have dwelt in them. +A thousand years, at all events, would seem but a middle age for these +structures. They are built of such huge, square stones, that their +appearance of ponderous durability distresses the beholder with the idea +that they can never fall,--never crumble away,--never be less fit than +now for human habitation. Many of them may once have been palaces, and +still retain a squalid grandeur. But, gazing at them, we recognize how +undesirable it is to build the tabernacle of our brief lifetime out of +permanent materials, and with a view to their being occupied by future +‘generations. + +All towns should be made capable of purification by fire, or of decay, +within each half-century. Otherwise, they become the hereditary haunts +of vermin and noisomeness, besides standing apart from the possibility +of such improvements as are constantly introduced into the rest of +man’s contrivances and accommodations. It is beautiful, no doubt, and +exceedingly satisfactory to some of our natural instincts, to imagine +our far posterity dwelling under the same roof-tree as ourselves. Still, +when people insist on building indestructible houses, they incur, or +their children do, a misfortune analogous to that of the Sibyl, when +she obtained the grievous boon of immortality. So we may build almost +immortal habitations, it is true; but we cannot keep them from growing +old, musty, unwholesome, dreary,--full of death scents, ghosts, and +murder stains; in short, such habitations as one sees everywhere in +Italy, be they hovels or palaces. + +“You should go with me to my native country,” observed the sculptor to +Donatello. “In that fortunate land, each generation has only its own +sins and sorrows to bear. Here, it seems as if all the weary and dreary +Past were piled upon the back of the Present. If I were to lose my +spirits in this country,--if I were to suffer any heavy misfortune +here,--methinks it would be impossible to stand up against it, under +such adverse influences.” + +“The sky itself is an old roof, now,” answered the Count; “and, no +doubt, the sins of mankind have made it gloomier than it used to be.” + “O, my poor Faun,” thought Kenyon to himself, “how art thou changed!” + +A city, like this of which we speak, seems a sort of stony growth out +of the hillside, or a fossilized town; so ancient and strange it looks, +without enough of life and juiciness in it to be any longer susceptible +of decay. An earthquake would afford it the only chance of being ruined, +beyond its present ruin. + +Yet, though dead to all the purposes for which we live to-day, the place +has its glorious recollections, and not merely rude and warlike ones, +but those of brighter and milder triumphs, the fruits of which we still +enjoy. Italy can count several of these lifeless towns which, four or +five hundred years ago, were each the birthplace of its own school of +art; nor have they yet forgotten to be proud of the dark old pictures, +and the faded frescos, the pristine beauty of which was a light and +gladness to the world. But now, unless one happens to be a painter, +these famous works make us miserably desperate. They are poor, dim +ghosts of what, when Giotto or Cimabue first created them, threw a +splendor along the stately aisles; so far gone towards nothingness, +in our day, that scarcely a hint of design or expression can glimmer +through the dusk. Those early artists did well to paint their frescos. +Glowing on the church-walls, they might be looked upon as symbols of the +living spirit that made Catholicism a true religion, and that glorified +it as long as it retained a genuine life; they filled the transepts with +a radiant throng of saints and angels, and threw around the high altar +a faint reflection--as much as mortals could see, or bear--of a Diviner +Presence. But now that the colors are so wretchedly bedimmed,--now that +blotches of plastered wall dot the frescos all over, like a mean reality +thrusting itself through life’s brightest illusions,--the next best +artist to Cimabue or Giotto or Ghirlandaio or Pinturicchio will be he +that shall reverently cover their ruined masterpieces with whitewash! + +Kenyon, however, being an earnest student and critic of Art, lingered +long before these pathetic relics; and Donatello, in his present phase +of penitence, thought no time spent amiss while he could be kneeling +before an altar. Whenever they found a cathedral, therefore, or a Gothic +church, the two travellers were of one mind to enter it. In some of +these holy edifices they saw pictures that time had not dimmed nor +injured in the least, though they perhaps belonged to as old a school +of Art as any that were perishing around them. These were the painted +windows; and as often as he gazed at them the sculptor blessed the +medieval time, and its gorgeous contrivances of splendor; for surely the +skill of man has never accomplished, nor his mind imagined, any other +beauty or glory worthy to be compared with these. + +It is the special excellence of pictured glass, that the light, which +falls merely on the outside of other pictures, is here interfused +throughout the work; it illuminates the design, and invests it with +a living radiance; and in requital the unfading colors transmute the +common daylight into a miracle of richness and glory in its passage +through the heavenly substance of the blessed and angelic shapes which +throng the high-arched window. + +“It is a woeful thing,” cried Kenyon, while one of these frail yet +enduring and fadeless pictures threw its hues on his face, and on the +pavement of the church around him,--“a sad necessity that any Christian +soul should pass from earth without once seeing an antique painted +window, with the bright Italian sunshine glowing through it! There is +no other such true symbol of the glories of the better world, where +a celestial radiance will be inherent in all things and persons, and +render each continually transparent to the sight of all.” + +“But what a horror it would be,” said Donatello sadly, “if there were a +soul among them through which the light could not be transfused!” + +“Yes; and perhaps this is to be the punishment of sin,” replied the +sculptor; “not that it shall be made evident to the universe, which can +profit nothing by such knowledge, but that it shall insulate the sinner +from all sweet society by rendering him impermeable to light, and, +therefore, unrecognizable in the abode of heavenly simplicity and truth. +Then, what remains for him, but the dreariness of infinite and eternal +solitude?” + +“That would be a horrible destiny, indeed!” said Donatello. + +His voice as he spoke the words had a hollow and dreary cadence, as if +he anticipated some such frozen solitude for himself. A figure in a dark +robe was lurking in the obscurity of a side chapel close by, and made an +impulsive movement forward, but hesitated as Donatello spoke again. + +“But there might be a more miserable torture than to be solitary +forever,” said he. “Think of having a single companion in eternity, and +instead of finding any consolation, or at all events variety of torture, +to see your own weary, weary sin repeated in that inseparable soul.” + +“I think, my dear Count, you have never read Dante,” observed Kenyon. +“That idea is somewhat in his style, but I cannot help regretting that +it came into your mind just then.” + +The dark-robed figure had shrunk back, and was quite lost to sight among +the shadows of the chapel. + +“There was an English poet,” resumed Kenyon, turning again towards the +window, “who speaks of the ‘dim, religious light,’ transmitted through +painted glass. I always admired this richly descriptive phrase; but, +though he was once in Italy, I question whether Milton ever saw any +but the dingy pictures in the dusty windows of English cathedrals, +imperfectly shown by the gray English daylight. He would else have +illuminated that word ‘dim’ with some epithet that should not chase +away the dimness, yet should make it glow like a million of rubies, +sapphires, emeralds, and topazes. Is it not so with yonder window? The +pictures are most brilliant in themselves, yet dim with tenderness and +reverence, because God himself is shining through them.” + +“The pictures fill me with emotion, but not such as you seem to +experience,” said Donatello. “I tremble at those awful saints; and, most +of all, at the figure above them. He glows with Divine wrath!” + +“My dear friend,” said Kenyon, “how strangely your eyes have transmuted +the expression of the figure! It is divine love, not wrath!” + +“To my eyes,” said Donatello stubbornly, “it is wrath, not love! Each +must interpret for himself.” + +The friends left the church, and looking up, from the exterior, at +the window which they had just been contemplating within, nothing; was +visible but the merest outline of dusky shapes, Neither the individual +likeness of saint, angel, nor Saviour, and far less the combined scheme +and purport of the picture, could anywise be made out. That miracle of +radiant art, thus viewed, was nothing better than an incomprehensible +obscurity, without a gleam of beauty to induce the beholder to attempt +unravelling it. + +“All this,” thought the sculptor, “is a most forcible emblem of the +different aspect of religious truth and sacred story, as viewed from the +warm interior of belief, or from its cold and dreary outside. Christian +faith is a grand cathedral, with divinely pictured windows. Standing +without, you see no glory, nor can possibly imagine any; standing +within, every ray of light reveals a harmony of unspeakable splendors.” + +After Kenyon and Donatello emerged from the church, however, they had +better opportunity for acts of charity and mercy than for religious +contemplation; being immediately surrounded by a swarm of beggars, who +are the present possessors of Italy, and share the spoil of the stranger +with the fleas and mosquitoes, their formidable allies. These pests--the +human ones--had hunted the two travellers at every stage of their +journey. From village to village, ragged boys and girls kept almost +under the horses’ feet; hoary grandsires and grandames caught glimpses +of their approach, and hobbled to intercept them at some point of +vantage; blind men stared them out of countenance with their sightless +orbs; women held up their unwashed babies; cripples displayed their +wooden legs, their grievous scars, their dangling, boneless arms, their +broken backs, their burden of a hump, or whatever infirmity or deformity +Providence had assigned them for an inheritance. On the highest mountain +summit--in the most shadowy ravine--there was a beggar waiting for them. +In one small village, Kenyon had the curiosity to count merely how many +children were crying, whining, and bellowing all at once for alms. They +proved to be more than forty of as ragged and dirty little imps as any +in the world; besides whom, all the wrinkled matrons, and most of the +village maids, and not a few stalwart men, held out their hands grimly, +piteously, or smilingly in the forlorn hope of whatever trifle of +coin might remain in pockets already so fearfully taxed. Had they +been permitted, they would gladly have knelt down and worshipped the +travellers, and have cursed them, without rising from their knees, if +the expected boon failed to be awarded. + +Yet they were not so miserably poor but that the grown people kept +houses over their heads. + +In the way of food, they had, at least, vegetables in their little +gardens, pigs and chickens to kill, eggs to fry into omelets with oil, +wine to drink, and many other things to make life comfortable. As for +the children, when no more small coin appeared to be forthcoming, they +began to laugh and play, and turn heels over head, showing themselves +jolly and vivacious brats, and evidently as well fed as needs be. The +truth is, the Italian peasantry look upon strangers as the almoners of +Providence, and therefore feel no more shame in asking and receiving +alms, than in availing themselves of providential bounties in whatever +other form. + +In accordance with his nature, Donatello was always exceedingly +charitable to these ragged battalions, and appeared to derive a certain +consolation from the prayers which many of them put up in his behalf. In +Italy a copper coin of minute value will often make all the difference +between a vindictive curse--death by apoplexy being the favorite +one-mumbled in an old witch’s toothless jaws, and a prayer from the same +lips, so earnest that it would seem to reward the charitable soul with +at least a puff of grateful breath to help him heavenward. Good wishes +being so cheap, though possibly not very efficacious, and anathemas so +exceedingly bitter,--even if the greater portion of their poison remain +in the mouth that utters them,--it may be wise to expend some reasonable +amount in the purchase of the former. Donatello invariably did so; and +as he distributed his alms under the pictured window, of which we have +been speaking, no less than seven ancient women lifted their hands and +besought blessings on his head. + +“Come,” said the sculptor, rejoicing at the happier expression which he +saw in his friend’s face. “I think your steed will not stumble with you +to-day. Each of these old dames looks as much like Horace’s Atra Cura +as can well be conceived; but, though there are seven of them, they will +make your burden on horseback lighter instead of heavier.” + +“Are we to ride far?” asked the Count. + +“A tolerable journey betwixt now and to-morrow noon,” Kenyon replied; +“for, at that hour, I purpose to be standing by the Pope’s statue in the +great square of Perugia.” + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +MARKET DAY IN PERUGIA + + +Perugia, on its lofty hilltop, was reached by the two travellers before +the sun had quite kissed away the early freshness of the morning. Since +midnight, there had been a heavy, rain, bringing infinite refreshment to +the scene of verdure and fertility amid which this ancient civilization +stands; insomuch that Kenyon loitered, when they came to the gray city +wall, and was loath to give up the prospect of the sunny wilderness that +lay below. It was as green as England, and bright as Italy alone. There +was all the wide valley, sweeping down and spreading away on all sides +from the weed grown ramparts, and bounded afar by mountains, which lay +asleep in the sun, with thin mists and silvery clouds floating about +their heads by way of morning dreams. + +“It lacks still two hours of noon,” said the sculptor to his friend, as +they stood under the arch of the gateway, waiting for their passports +to be examined; “will you come with me to see some admirable frescos by +Perugino? There is a hall in the Exchange, of no great magnitude, but +covered with what must have been--at the time it was painted--such +magnificence and beauty as the world had not elsewhere to show.” + +“It depresses me to look at old frescos,” responded the Count; “it is a +pain, yet not enough of a pain to answer as a penance.” + +“Will you look at some pictures by Fra Angelico in the Church of San +Domenico?” asked Kenyon; “they are full of religious sincerity, When +one studies them faithfully, it is like holding a conversation about +heavenly things with a tender and devout-minded man.” + +“You have shown me some of Fra Angelico’s pictures, I remember,” + answered Donatello; “his angels look as if they had never taken a flight +out of heaven; and his saints seem to have been born saints, and always +to have lived so. Young maidens, and all innocent persons, I doubt not, +may find great delight and profit in looking at such holy pictures. But +they are not for me.” + +“Your criticism, I fancy, has great moral depth,” replied Kenyon; “and +I see in it the reason why Hilda so highly appreciates Fra Angelico’s +pictures. Well; we will let all such matters pass for to-day, and stroll +about this fine old city till noon.” + +They wandered to and fro, accordingly, and lost themselves among the +strange, precipitate passages, which, in Perugia, are called streets, +Some of them are like caverns, being arched all over, and plunging down +abruptly towards an unknown darkness; which, when you have fathomed +its depths, admits you to a daylight that you scarcely hoped to behold +again. Here they met shabby men, and the careworn wives and mothers +of the people, some of whom guided children in leading strings through +those dim and antique thoroughfares, where a hundred generations had +passed before the little feet of to-day began to tread them. Thence they +climbed upward again, and came to the level plateau, on the summit of +the hill, where are situated the grand piazza and the principal public +edifices. + +It happened to be market day in Perugia. The great square, therefore, +presented a far more vivacious spectacle than would have been witnessed +in it at any other time of the week, though not so lively as to overcome +the gray solemnity of the architectural portion of the scene. In the +shadow of the cathedral and other old Gothic structures--seeking shelter +from the sunshine that fell across the rest of the piazza--was a crowd +of people, engaged as buyers or sellers in the petty traffic of a +country fair. Dealers had erected booths and stalls on the pavement, +and overspread them with scanty awnings, beneath which they stood, +vociferously crying their merchandise; such as shoes, hats and caps, +yarn stockings, cheap jewelry and cutlery, books, chiefly little volumes +of a religious Character, and a few French novels; toys, tinware, +old iron, cloth, rosaries of beads, crucifixes, cakes, biscuits, +sugar-plums, and innumerable little odds and ends, which we see no +object in advertising. Baskets of grapes, figs, and pears stood on the +ground. Donkeys, bearing panniers stuffed out with kitchen vegetables, +and requiring an ample roadway, roughly shouldered aside the throng. + +Crowded as the square was, a juggler found room to spread out a white +cloth upon the pavement, and cover it with cups, plates, balls, cards, +w the whole material of his magic, in short,--wherewith he proceeded to +work miracles under the noonday sun. An organ grinder at one point, and +a clarion and a flute at another, accomplished what their could towards +filling the wide space with tuneful noise, Their small uproar, +however, was nearly drowned by the multitudinous voices of the people, +bargaining, quarrelling, laughing, and babbling copiously at random; +for the briskness of the mountain atmosphere, or some other cause, made +everybody so loquacious, that more words were wasted in Perugia on this +one market day, than the noisiest piazza of Rome would utter in a month. + +Through all this petty tumult, which kept beguiling one’s eyes and upper +strata of thought, it was delightful to catch glimpses of the grand +old architecture that stood around the square. The life of the +flitting moment, existing in the antique shell of an age gone by, has a +fascination which we do not find in either the past or present, taken by +themselves. It might seem irreverent to make the gray cathedral and +the tall, time-worn palaces echo back the exuberant vociferation of the +market; but they did so, and caused the sound to assume a kind of +poetic rhythm, and themselves looked only the more majestic for their +condescension. + +On one side, there was an immense edifice devoted to public purposes, +with an antique gallery, and a range of arched and stone-mullioned +windows, running along its front; and by way of entrance it had a +central Gothic arch, elaborately wreathed around with sculptured +semicircles, within which the spectator was aware of a stately and +impressive gloom. Though merely the municipal council-house and exchange +of a decayed country town, this structure was worthy to have held in +one portion of it the parliament hall of a nation, and in the other, the +state apartments of its ruler. On another side of the square rose the +mediaeval front of the cathedral, where the imagination of a Gothic +architect had long ago flowered out indestructibly, in the first place, +a grand design, and then covering it with such abundant detail of +ornament, that the magnitude of the work seemed less a miracle than its +minuteness. You would suppose that he must have softened the stone +into wax, until his most delicate fancies were modelled in the pliant +material, and then had hardened it into stone again. The whole was a +vast, black-letter page of the richest and quaintest poetry. In fit +keeping with all this old magnificence was a great marble fountain, +where again the Gothic imagination showed its overflow and gratuity of +device in the manifold sculptures which it lavished as freely as the +water did its shifting shapes. + +Besides the two venerable structures which we have described, there were +lofty palaces, perhaps of as old a date, rising story above Story, and +adorned with balconies, whence, hundreds of years ago, the princely +occupants had been accustomed to gaze down at the sports, business, and +popular assemblages of the piazza. And, beyond all question, they thus +witnessed the erection of a bronze statue, which, three centuries since, +was placed on the pedestal that it still occupies. + +“I never come to Perugia,” said Kenyon, “without spending as much time +as I can spare in studying yonder statue of Pope Julius the Third. Those +sculptors of the Middle Age have fitter lessons for the professors of +my art than we can find in the Grecian masterpieces. They belong to our +Christian civilization; and, being earnest works, they always express +something which we do not get from the antique. Will you look at it?” + +“Willingly,” replied the Count, “for I see, even so far off, that the +statue is bestowing a benediction, and there is a feeling in my heart +that I may be permitted to share it.” + +Remembering the similar idea which Miriam a short time before had +expressed, the sculptor smiled hopefully at the coincidence. They made +their way through the throng of the market place, and approached close +to the iron railing that protected the pedestal of the statue. + +It was the figure of a pope, arrayed in his pontifical robes, and +crowned with the tiara. He sat in a bronze chair, elevated high above +the pavement, and seemed to take kindly yet authoritative cognizance +of the busy scene which was at that moment passing before his eye. His +right hand was raised and spread abroad, as if in the act of shedding +forth a benediction, which every man--so broad, so wise, and so serenely +affectionate was the bronze pope’s regard--might hope to feel quietly +descending upon the need, or the distress, that he had closest at his +heart. The statue had life and observation in it, as well as patriarchal +majesty. An imaginative spectator could not but be impressed with +the idea that this benignly awful representative of divine and human +authority might rise from his brazen chair, should any great public +exigency demand his interposition, and encourage or restrain the people +by his gesture, or even by prophetic utterances worthy of so grand a +presence. + +And in the long, calm intervals, amid the quiet lapse of ages, the +pontiff watched the daily turmoil around his seat, listening with +majestic patience to the market cries, and all the petty uproar that +awoke the echoes of the stately old piazza. He was the enduring friend +of these men, and of their forefathers and children, the familiar face +of generations. + +“The pope’s blessing, methinks, has fallen upon you,” observed the +sculptor, looking at his friend. + +In truth, Donatello’s countenance indicated a healthier spirit than +while he was brooding in his melancholy tower. The change of scene, the +breaking up of custom, the fresh flow of incidents, the sense of being +homeless, and therefore free, had done something for our poor Faun; +these circumstances had at least promoted a reaction, which might else +have been slower in its progress. Then, no doubt, the bright day, the +gay spectacle of the market place, and the sympathetic exhilaration +of so many people’s cheerfulness, had each their suitable effect on a +temper naturally prone to be glad. Perhaps, too, he was magnetically +conscious of a presence that formerly sufficed to make him happy. Be the +cause what it might, Donatello’s eyes shone with a serene and hopeful +expression while looking upward at the bronze pope, to whose widely +diffused blessing, it may be, he attributed all this good influence. + +“Yes, my dear friend,” said he, in reply to the sculptor’s remark, “I +feel the blessing upon my spirit.” + +“It is wonderful,” said Kenyon, with a smile, “wonderful and delightful +to think how long a good man’s beneficence may be potent, even after his +death. How great, then, must have been the efficacy of this excellent +pontiff’s blessing while he was alive!” + +“I have heard,” remarked the Count, “that there was a brazen image set +up in the wilderness, the sight of which healed the Israelites of their +poisonous and rankling wounds. If it be the Blessed Virgin’s pleasure, +why should not this holy image before us do me equal good? A wound has +long been rankling in my soul, and filling it with poison.” + +“I did wrong to smile,” answered Kenyon. “It is not for me to limit +Providence in its operations on man’s spirit.” + +While they stood talking, the clock in the neighboring cathedral told +the hour, with twelve reverberating strokes, which it flung down upon +the crowded market place, as if warning one and all to take advantage +of the bronze pontiff’s benediction, or of Heaven’s blessing, however +proffered, before the opportunity were lost. + +“High noon,” said the sculptor. “It is Miriam’s hour!” + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +THE BRONZE PONTIFF’S BENEDICTION + + +When the last of the twelve strokes had fallen from the cathedral clock, +Kenyon threw his eyes over the busy scene of the market place, expecting +to discern Miriam somewhere in the ‘crowd. He looked next towards the +cathedral itself, where it was reasonable to imagine that she might have +taken shelter, while awaiting her appointed time. Seeing no trace of +her in either direction, his eyes came back from their quest somewhat +disappointed, and rested on a figure which was leaning, like Donatello +and himself, on the iron balustrade that surrounded the statue. Only a +moment before, they two had been alone. + +It was the figure of a woman, with her head bowed on her hands, as if +she deeply felt--what we have been endeavoring to convey into our feeble +description--the benign and awe-inspiring influence which the pontiff’s +statue exercises upon a sensitive spectator. No matter though it were +modelled for a Catholic chief priest, the desolate heart, whatever be +its religion, recognizes in that image the likeness of a father. + +“Miriam,” said the sculptor, with a tremor in his voice, “is it +yourself?” + +“It is I,” she replied; “I am faithful to my engagement, though with +many fears.” She lifted her head, and revealed to Kenyon--revealed to +Donatello likewise--the well-remembered features of Miriam. They were +pale and worn, but distinguished even now, though less gorgeously, by +a beauty that might be imagined bright enough to glimmer with its own +light in a dim cathedral aisle, and had no need to shrink from the +severer test of the mid-day sun. But she seemed tremulous, and hardly +able to go through with a scene which at a distance she had found +courage to undertake. + +“You are most welcome, Miriam!” said the sculptor, seeking to afford +her the encouragement which he saw she so greatly required. “I have +a hopeful trust that the result of this interview will be propitious. +Come; let me lead you to Donatello.” + +“No, Kenyon, no!” whispered Miriam, shrinking back; “unless of his own +accord he speaks my name,--unless he bids me stay,--no word shall ever +pass between him and me. It is not that I take upon me to be proud at +this late hour. Among other feminine qualities, I threw away my pride +when Hilda cast me off.” + +“If not pride, what else restrains you?” Kenyon asked, a little angry at +her unseasonable scruples, and also at this half-complaining reference +to Hilda’s just severity. “After daring so much, it is no time for fear! +If we let him part from you without a word, your opportunity of doing +him inestimable good is lost forever.” + +“True; it will be lost forever!” repeated Miriam sadly. “But, dear +friend, will it be my fault? I willingly fling my woman’s pride at his +feet. But--do you not see?--his heart must be left freely to its own +decision whether to recognize me, because on his voluntary choice +depends the whole question whether my devotion will do him good or +harm. Except he feel an infinite need of me, I am a burden and fatal +obstruction to him!” + +“Take your own course, then, Miriam,” said Kenyon; “and, doubtless, +the crisis being what it is, your spirit is better instructed for its +emergencies than mine.” + +While the foregoing words passed between them they had withdrawn a +little from the immediate vicinity of the statue, so as to be out of +Donatello’s hearing. Still, however, they were beneath the pontiff’s +outstretched hand; and Miriam, with her beauty and her sorrow, looked up +into his benignant face, as if she had come thither for his pardon and +paternal affection, and despaired of so vast a boon. + +Meanwhile, she had not stood thus long in the public square of Perugia, +without attracting the observation of many eyes. With their quick sense +of beauty, these Italians had recognized her loveliness, and spared not +to take their fill of gazing at it; though their native gentleness and +courtesy made their homage far less obtrusive than that of Germans, +French, or Anglo-Saxons might have been. It is not improbable that +Miriam had planned this momentous interview, on so public a spot and at +high noon, with an eye to the sort of protection that would be thrown +over it by a multitude of eye-witnesses. In circumstances of profound +feeling and passion, there is often a sense that too great a seclusion +cannot be endured; there is an indefinite dread of being quite alone +with the object of our deepest interest. The species of solitude that +a crowd harbors within itself is felt to be preferable, in certain +conditions of the heart, to the remoteness of a desert or the depths +of an untrodden wood. Hatred, love, or whatever kind of too +intense emotion, or even indifference, where emotion has once been, +instinctively seeks to interpose some barrier between itself and the +corresponding passion in another breast. This, we suspect, was what +Miriam had thought of, in coming to the thronged piazza; partly this, +and partly, as she said, her superstition that the benign statue held +good influences in store. + +But Donatello remained leaning against the balustrade. She dared not +glance towards him, to see whether he were pale and agitated, or calm as +ice. Only, she knew that the moments were fleetly lapsing away, and that +his heart must call her soon, or the voice would never reach her. She +turned quite away from him and spoke again to the sculptor. + +“I have wished to meet you,” said she, “for more than one reason. News +has come to me respecting a dear friend of ours. Nay, not of mine! I +dare not call her a friend of mine, though once the dearest.” + +“Do you speak of Hilda?” exclaimed Kenyon, with quick alarm. “Has +anything befallen her? When I last heard of her, she was still in Rome, +and well.” + +“Hilda remains in Rome,” replied Miriam, “nor is she ill as regards +physical health, though much depressed in spirits. She lives quite alone +in her dove-cote; not a friend near her, not one in Rome, which, you +know, is deserted by all but its native inhabitants. I fear for her +health, if she continue long in such solitude, with despondency preying +on her mind. I tell you this, knowing the interest which the rare beauty +of her character has awakened in you.” + +“I will go to Rome!” said the sculptor, in great emotion. “Hilda has +never allowed me to manifest more than a friendly regard; but, at least, +she cannot prevent my watching over her at a humble distance. I will set +out this very hour.” + +“Do not leave us now!” whispered Miriam imploringly, and laying her hand +on his arm. “One moment more! Ah; he has no word for me!” + +“Miriam!” said Donatello. + +Though but a single word, and the first that he had spoken, its tone was +a warrant of the sad and tender depth from which it came. It told Miriam +things of infinite importance, and, first of all, that he still loved +her. The sense of their mutual crime had stunned, but not destroyed, the +vitality of his affection; it was therefore indestructible. That tone, +too, bespoke an altered and deepened character; it told of a vivified +intellect, and of spiritual instruction that had come through sorrow and +remorse; so that instead of the wild boy, the thing of sportive, +animal nature, the sylvan Faun, here was now the man of feeling and +intelligence. + +She turned towards him, while his voice still reverberated in the depths +of her soul. + +“You have called me!” said she. + +“Because my deepest heart has need of you!” he replied. “Forgive, +Miriam, the coldness, the hardness with which I parted from you! I was +bewildered with strange horror and gloom.” + +“Alas! and it was I that brought it on you,” said she. “What repentance, +what self-sacrifice, can atone for that infinite wrong? There was +something so sacred in the innocent and joyous life which you were +leading! A happy person is such an unaccustomed and holy creature in +this sad world! And, encountering so rare a being, and gifted with the +power of sympathy with his sunny life, it was my doom, mine, to bring +him within the limits of sinful, sorrowful mortality! Bid me depart, +Donatello! Fling me off! No good, through my agency, can follow upon +such a mighty evil!” + +“Miriam,” said he, “our lot lies together. Is it not so? Tell me, in +Heaven’s name, if it be otherwise.” + +Donatello’s conscience was evidently perplexed with doubt, whether the +communion of a crime, such as they two were jointly stained with, ought +not to stifle all the instinctive motions of their hearts, impelling +them one towards the other. Miriam, on the other hand, remorsefully +questioned with herself whether the misery, already accruing from +her influence, should not warn her to withdraw from his path. In this +momentous interview, therefore, two souls were groping for each other in +the darkness of guilt and sorrow, and hardly were bold enough to grasp +the cold hands that they found. + +The sculptor stood watching the scene with earnest sympathy. + +“It seems irreverent,” said he, at length; “intrusive, if not +irreverent, for a third person to thrust himself between the two solely +concerned in a crisis like the present. Yet, possibly as a bystander, +though a deeply interested one, I may discern somewhat of truth that +is hidden from you both; nay, at least interpret or suggest some ideas +which you might not so readily convey to each other.” + +“Speak!” said Miriam. “We confide in you.” “Speak!” said Donatello. “You +are true and upright.” + +“I well know,” rejoined Kenyon, “that I shall not succeed in uttering +the few, deep words which, in this matter, as in all others, include the +absolute truth. But here, Miriam, is one whom a terrible misfortune has +begun to educate; it has taken him, and through your agency, out of a +wild and happy state, which, within circumscribed limits, gave him joys +that he cannot elsewhere find on earth. On his behalf, you have incurred +a responsibility which you cannot fling aside. And here, Donatello, is +one whom Providence marks out as intimately connected with your destiny. +The mysterious process, by which our earthly life instructs us for +another state of being, was begun for you by her. She has rich gifts of +heart and mind, a suggestive power, a magnetic influence, a sympathetic +knowledge, which, wisely and religiously exercised, are what your +condition needs. She possesses what you require, and, with utter self +devotion, will use it for your good. The bond betwixt you, therefore, +is a true one, and never--except by Heaven’s own act--should be rent +asunder.” + +“Ah; he has spoken the truth!” cried Donatello, grasping Miriam’s hand. + + +“The very truth, dear friend,” cried Miriam. + +“But take heed,” resumed the sculptor, anxious not to violate the +integrity of his own conscience, “take heed; for you love one another, +and yet your bond is twined with such black threads that you must never +look upon it as identical with the ties that unite other loving souls. +It is for mutual support; it is for one another’s final good; it is for +effort, for sacrifice, but not for earthly happiness. If such be your +motive, believe me, friends, it were better to relinquish each other’s +hands at this sad moment. There would be no holy sanction on your wedded +life.” + +“None,” said Donatello, shuddering. “We know it well.” + +“None,” repeated Miriam, also shuddering. “United--miserably entangled +with me, rather--by a bond of guilt, our union might be for eternity, +indeed, and most intimate;--but, through all that endless duration, I +should be conscious of his horror.” + +“Not for earthly bliss, therefore,” said Kenyon, “but for mutual +elevation, and encouragement towards a severe and painful life, you take +each other’s hands. And if, out of toil, sacrifice, prayer, penitence, +and earnest effort towards right things, there comes at length a sombre +and thoughtful, happiness, taste it, and thank Heaven! So that you live +not for it,--so that it be a wayside flower, springing along a path that +leads to higher ends,--it will be Heaven’s gracious gift, and a token +that it recognizes your union here below.” + +“Have you no more to say?” asked Miriam earnestly. “There is matter of +sorrow and lofty consolation strangely mingled in your words.” + +“Only this, dear Miriam,” said the sculptor; “if ever in your lives +the highest duty should require from either of you the sacrifice of the +other, meet the occasion without shrinking. This is all.” + +While Kenyon spoke, Donatello had evidently taken in the ideas which he +propounded, and had ennobled them by the sincerity of his reception. +His aspect unconsciously assumed a dignity, which, elevating his former +beauty, accorded with the change that had long been taking place in his +interior self. He was a man, revolving grave and deep thoughts in his +breast. He still held Miriam’s hand; and there they stood, the beautiful +man, the beautiful woman, united forever, as they felt, in the +presence of these thousand eye-witnesses, who gazed so curiously at the +unintelligible scene. Doubtless the crowd recognized them as lovers, +and fancied this a betrothal that was destined to result in lifelong +happiness. And possibly it might be so. Who can tell where happiness may +come; or where, though an expected guest, it may never show its face? +Perhaps--shy, subtle thing--it had crept into this sad marriage bond, +when the partners would have trembled at its presence as a crime. + +“Farewell!” said Kenyon; “I go to Rome.” + +“Farewell, true friend!” said Miriam. + +“Farewell!” said Donatello too. “May you be happy. You have no guilt to +make you shrink from happiness.” + +At this moment it so chanced that all the three friends by one impulse +glanced upward at the statue of Pope Julius; and there was the majestic +figure stretching out the hand of benediction over them, and bending +down upon this guilty and repentant pair its visage of grand benignity. +There is a singular effect oftentimes when, out of the midst of +engrossing thought and deep absorption, we suddenly look up, and catch a +glimpse of external objects. We seem at such moments to look farther and +deeper into them, than by any premeditated observation; it is as if they +met our eyes alive, and with all their hidden meaning on the surface, +but grew again inanimate and inscrutable the instant that they became +aware of our glances. So now, at that unexpected glimpse, Miriam, +Donatello, and the sculptor, all three imagined that they beheld the +bronze pontiff endowed with spiritual life. A blessing was felt +descending upon them from his outstretched hand; he approved by look and +gesture the pledge of a deep union that had passed under his auspices. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +HILDA’S TOWER + + +When we have once known Rome, and left her where she lies, like a +long-decaying corpse, retaining a trace of the noble shape it was, but +with accumulated dust and a fungous growth overspreading all its more +admirable features, left her in utter weariness, no doubt, of her +narrow, crooked, intricate streets, so uncomfortably paved with little +squares of lava that to tread over them is a penitential pilgrimage, so +indescribably ugly, moreover, so cold, so alley-like, into which the sun +never falls, and where a chill wind forces its deadly breath into our +lungs,--left her, tired of the sight of those immense seven-storied, +yellow-washed hovels, or call them palaces, where all that is dreary +in domestic life seems magnified and multiplied, and weary of climbing +those staircases, which ascend from a ground-floor of cook shops, +cobblers’ stalls, stables, and regiments of cavalry, to a middle region +of princes, cardinals, and ambassadors, and an upper tier of artists, +just beneath the unattainable sky,--left her, worn out with shivering +at the cheerless and smoky fireside by day, and feasting with our own +substance the ravenous little populace of a Roman bed at night,--left +her, sick at heart of Italian trickery, which has uprooted whatever +faith in man’s integrity had endured till now, and sick at stomach +of sour bread, sour wine, rancid butter, and bad cookery, needlessly +bestowed on evil meats,--left her, disgusted with the pretence of +holiness and the reality of nastiness, each equally omnipresent,--left +her, half lifeless from the languid atmosphere, the vital principle +of which has been used up long ago, or corrupted by myriads of +slaughters,--left her, crushed down in spirit with the desolation of her +ruin, and the hopelessness of her future,--left her, in short, hating +her with all our might, and adding our individual curse to the infinite +anathema which her old crimes have unmistakably brought down,--when we +have left Rome in such mood as this, we are astonished by the discovery, +by and by, that our heart-strings have mysteriously attached themselves +to the Eternal City, and are drawing us thitherward again, as if it were +more familiar, more intimately our home, than even the spot where we +were born. + +It is with a kindred sentiment, that we now follow the course of our +story back through the Flaminian Gate, and, treading our way to the Via +Portoghese, climb the staircase to the upper chamber of the tower where +we last saw Hilda. + +Hilda all along intended to pass the summer in Rome; for she had laid +out many high and delightful tasks, which she could the better complete +while her favorite haunts were deserted by the multitude that thronged +them throughout the winter and early spring. Nor did she dread the +summer atmosphere, although generally held to be so pestilential. She +had already made trial of it, two years before, and found no worse +effect than a kind of dreamy languor, which was dissipated by the first +cool breezes that came with autumn. The thickly populated centre of the +city, indeed, is never affected by the feverish influence that lies in +wait in the Campagna, like a besieging foe, and nightly haunts those +beautiful lawns and woodlands, around the suburban villas, just at the +season when they most resemble Paradise. What the flaming sword was to +the first Eden, such is the malaria to these sweet gardens and grove. We +may wander through them, of an afternoon, it is true, but they cannot +be made a home and a reality, and to sleep among them is death. They are +but illusions, therefore, like the show of gleaming waters and shadowy +foliage in a desert. + +But Rome, within the walls, at this dreaded season, enjoys its festal +days, and makes itself merry with characteristic and hereditary +pas-times, for which its broad piazzas afford abundant room. It leads +its own life with a freer spirit, now that the artists and foreign +visitors are scattered abroad. No bloom, perhaps, would be visible in +a cheek that should be unvisited, throughout the summer, by more +invigorating winds than any within fifty miles of the city; no bloom, +but yet, if the mind kept its healthy energy, a subdued and colorless +well-being. There was consequently little risk in Hilda’s purpose to +pass the summer days in the galleries of Roman palaces, and her nights +in that aerial chamber, whither the heavy breath of the city and its +suburbs could not aspire. It would probably harm her no more than it +did the white doves, who sought the same high atmosphere at sunset, and, +when morning came, flew down into the narrow streets, about their daily +business, as Hilda likewise did. + +With the Virgin’s aid and blessing, which might be hoped for even by +a heretic, who so religiously lit the lamp before her shrine, the New +England girl would sleep securely in her old Roman tower, and go forth +on her pictorial pilgrimages without dread or peril. In view of such +a summer, Hilda had anticipated many months of lonely, but unalloyed +enjoyment. Not that she had a churlish disinclination to society, or +needed to be told that we taste one intellectual pleasure twice, and +with double the result, when we taste it with a friend. But, keeping a +maiden heart within her bosom, she rejoiced in the freedom that enabled +her still to choose her own sphere, and dwell in it, if she pleased, +without another inmate. + +Her expectation, however, of a delightful summer was woefully +disappointed. Even had she formed no previous plan of remaining there, +it is improbable that Hilda would have gathered energy to stir from +Rome. A torpor, heretofore unknown to her vivacious though quiet +temperament, had possessed itself of the poor girl, like a half-dead +serpent knotting its cold, inextricable wreaths about her limbs. It +was that peculiar despair, that chill and heavy misery, which only +the innocent can experience, although it possesses many of the gloomy +characteristics that mark a sense of guilt. It was that heartsickness, +which, it is to be hoped, we may all of us have been pure enough to +feel, once in our lives, but the capacity for which is usually exhausted +early, and perhaps with a single agony. It was that dismal certainty of +the existence of evil in the world, which, though we may fancy ourselves +fully assured of the sad mystery long before, never becomes a portion of +our practical belief until it takes substance and reality from the sin +of some guide, whom we have deeply trusted and revered, or some friend +whom we have dearly loved. + +When that knowledge comes, it is as if a cloud had suddenly gathered +over the morning light; so dark a cloud, that there seems to be +no longer any sunshine behind it or above it. The character of our +individual beloved one having invested itself with all the attributes +of right,--that one friend being to us the symbol and representative of +whatever is good and true,--when he falls, the effect is almost as if +the sky fell with him, bringing down in chaotic ruin the columns +that upheld our faith. We struggle forth again, no doubt, bruised and +bewildered. We stare wildly about us, and discover--or, it may be, we +never make the discovery--that it was not actually the sky that has +tumbled down, but merely a frail structure of our own rearing, which +never rose higher than the housetops, and has fallen because we founded +it on nothing. But the crash, and the affright and trouble, are as +overwhelming, for the time, as if the catastrophe involved the whole +moral world. Remembering these things, let them suggest one generous +motive for walking heedfully amid the defilement of earthly ways! Let us +reflect, that the highest path is pointed out by the pure Ideal of those +who look up to us, and who, if we tread less loftily, may never look so +high again. + +Hilda’s situation was made infinitely more wretched by the necessity of +Confining all her trouble within her own consciousness. To this innocent +girl, holding the knowledge of Miriam’s crime within her tender and +delicate soul, the effect was almost the same as if she herself had +participated in the guilt. Indeed, partaking the human nature of +those who could perpetrate such deeds, she felt her own spotlessness +impugnent. + +Had there been but a single friend,--or not a friend, since friends were +no longer to be confided in, after Miriam had betrayed her trust,--but, +had there been any calm, wise mind, any sympathizing intelligence; or, +if not these, any dull, half-listening ear into which she might have +flung the dreadful secret, as into an echoless cavern, what a relief +would have ensued! But this awful loneliness! It enveloped her +whithersoever she went. It was a shadow in the sunshine of festal days; +a mist between her eyes and the pictures at which she strove to look; a +chill dungeon, which kept her in its gray twilight and fed her with its +unwholesome air, fit only for a criminal to breathe and pine in! She +could not escape from it. In the effort to do so, straying farther into +the intricate passages of our nature, she stumbled, ever and again, over +this deadly idea of mortal guilt. + +Poor sufferer for another’s sin! Poor wellspring of a virgin’s heart, +into which a murdered corpse had casually fallen, and whence it could +not be drawn forth again, but lay there, day after day, night after +night, tainting its sweet atmosphere with the scent of crime and ugly +death! + +The strange sorrow that had befallen Hilda did not fail to impress +its mysterious seal upon her face, and to make itself perceptible to +sensitive observers in her manner and carriage. A young Italian artist, +who frequented the same galleries which Hilda haunted, grew deeply +interested in her expression. One day, while she stood before Leonardo +da Vinci’s picture of Joanna of Aragon, but evidently without seeing +it,--for, though it had attracted her eyes, a fancied resemblance to +Miriam had immediately drawn away her thoughts,--this artist drew a +hasty sketch which he afterwards elaborated into a finished portrait. It +represented Hilda as gazing with sad and earnest horror at a bloodspot +which she seemed just then to have discovered on her white robe. The +picture attracted considerable notice. Copies of an engraving from +it may still be found in the print shops along the Corso. By many +connoisseurs, the idea of the face was supposed to have been suggested +by the portrait of Beatrice Cenci; and, in fact, there was a look +somewhat similar to poor Beatrice’s forlorn gaze out of the dreary +isolation and remoteness, in which a terrible doom had involved a tender +soul. But the modern artist strenuously upheld the originality of his +own picture, as well as the stainless purity its subject, and chose +to call it--and was laughed at for his pains--“Innocence, dying of a +Blood-stain!” + +“Your picture, Signore Panini, does you credit,” remarked the picture +dealer, who had bought it of the young man for fifteen scudi, and +afterwards sold it for ten times the sum; “but it would be worth a +better price if you had given it a more intelligible title. Looking at +the face and expression of this fair signorina, we seem to comprehend +readily enough, that she is undergoing one or another of those troubles +of the heart to which young ladies are but too liable. But what is this +blood-stain? And what has innocence to do with it? Has she stabbed her +perfidious lover with a bodkin?” + +“She! she commit a crime!” cried the young artist. “Can you look at the +innocent anguish in her face, and ask that question? No; but, as I +read the mystery, a man has been slain in her presence, and the blood, +spurting accidentally on her white robe, has made a stain which eats +into her life.” + +“Then, in the name of her patron saint,” exclaimed the picture dealer, +“why don’t she get the robe made white again at the expense of a few +baiocchi to her washerwoman? No, no, my dear Panini. The picture being +now my property, I shall call it ‘The Signorina’s Vengeance.’ She +has stabbed her lover overnight, and is repenting it betimes the next +morning. So interpreted, the picture becomes an intelligible and very +natural representation of a not uncommon fact.” + +Thus coarsely does the world translate all finer griefs that meet its +eye. It is more a coarse world than an unkind one. + +But Hilda sought nothing either from the world’s delicacy or its pity, +and never dreamed of its misinterpretations. Her doves often flew in +through the windows of the tower, winged messengers, bringing her what +sympathy they could, and uttering soft, tender, and complaining sounds, +deep in their bosoms, which soothed the girl more than a distincter +utterance might. And sometimes Hilda moaned quietly among the doves, +teaching her voice to accord with theirs, and thus finding a temporary +relief from the burden of her incommunicable sorrow, as if a little +portion of it, at least, had been told to these innocent friends, and +been understood and pitied. + +When she trimmed the lamp before the Virgin’s shrine, Hilda gazed at +the sacred image, and, rude as was the workmanship, beheld, or fancied, +expressed with the quaint, powerful simplicity which sculptors sometimes +had five hundred years ago, a woman’s tenderness responding to her +gaze. If she knelt, if she prayed, if her oppressed heart besought the +sympathy of divine womanhood afar in bliss, but not remote, because +forever humanized by the memory of mortal griefs, was Hilda to be +blamed? It was not a Catholic kneeling at an idolatrous shrine, but a +child lifting its tear-stained face to seek comfort from a mother. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +THE EMPTINESS OF PICTURE GALLERIES + + +Hilda descended, day by day, from her dove-cote, and went to one or +another of the great old palaces,--the Pamfili Doria, the Corsini, the +Sciarra, the Borghese, the Colonna,--where the doorkeepers knew her +well, and offered her a kindly greeting. But they shook their heads and +sighed, on observing the languid step with which the poor girl toiled up +the grand marble staircases. There was no more of that cheery alacrity +with which she used to flit upward, as if her doves had lent her their +wings, nor of that glow of happy spirits which had been wont to set the +tarnished gilding of the picture frames and the shabby splendor of the +furniture all a-glimmer, as she hastened to her congenial and delightful +toil. + +An old German artist, whom she often met in the galleries, once laid a +paternal hand on Hilda’s head, and bade her go back to her own country. + + +“Go back soon,” he said, with kindly freedom and directness, “or you +will go never more. And, if you go not, why, at least, do you spend the +whole summer-time in Rome? The air has been breathed too often, in so +many thousand years, and is not wholesome for a little foreign +flower like you, my child, a delicate wood-anemone from the western +forest-land.” + +“I have no task nor duty anywhere but here,” replied Hilda. “The old +masters will not set me free!” + +“Ah, those old masters!” cried the veteran artist, shaking his head. +“They are a tyrannous race! You will find them of too mighty a spirit to +be dealt with, for long together, by the slender hand, the fragile mind, +and the delicate heart, of a young girl. Remember that Raphael’s genius +wore out that divinest painter before half his life was lived. Since you +feel his influence powerfully enough to reproduce his miracles so well, +it will assuredly consume you like a flame.” + +“That might have been my peril once,” answered Hilda. “It is not so +now.” + +“Yes, fair maiden, you stand in that peril now!” insisted the kind old +man; and he added, smiling, yet in a melancholy vein, and with a +German grotesqueness of idea, “Some fine morning, I shall come to the +Pinacotheca of the Vatican, with my palette and my brushes, and shall +look for my little American artist that sees into the very heart of the +grand pictures! And what shall I behold? A heap of white ashes on the +marble floor, just in front of the divine Raphael’s picture of the +Madonna da Foligno! Nothing more, upon my word! The fire, which the poor +child feels so fervently, will have gone into her innermost, and burnt +her quite up!” + +“It would be a happy martyrdom!” said Hilda, faintly smiling. “But I +am far from being worthy of it. What troubles me much, among other +troubles, is quite the reverse of what you think. The old masters hold +me here, it is true, but they no longer warm me with their influence. +It is not flame consuming, but torpor chilling me, that helps to make me +wretched.” + +“Perchance, then,” said the German, looking keenly at her, “Raphael has +a rival in your heart? He was your first love; but young maidens are not +always constant, and one flame is sometimes extinguished by another!” + Hilda shook her head, and turned away. She had spoken the truth, +however, in alleging that torpor, rather than fire, was what she had +to dread. In those gloomy days that had befallen her, it was a great +additional calamity that she felt conscious of the present dimness of an +insight which she once possessed in more than ordinary measure. She had +lost--and she trembled lest it should have departed forever--the faculty +of appreciating those great works of art, which heretofore had made so +large a portion of her happiness. It was no wonder. + +A picture, however admirable the painter’s art, and wonderful his power, +requires of the spectator a surrender of himself, in due proportion with +the miracle which has been wrought. Let the canvas glow as it may, you +must look with the eye of faith, or its highest excellence escapes you. +There is always the necessity of helping out the painter’s art with your +own resources of sensibility and imagination. Not that these qualities +shall really add anything to what the master has effected; but they must +be put so entirely under his control, and work along with him to such +an extent, that, in a different mood, when you are cold and critical, +instead of sympathetic, you will be apt to fancy that the loftier merits +of the picture were of your own dreaming, not of his creating. + +Like all revelations of the better life, the adequate perception of a +great work of art demands a gifted simplicity of vision. In this, and +in her self-surrender, and the depth and tenderness of her sympathy, had +lain Hilda’s remarkable power as a copyist of the old masters. And now +that her capacity of emotion was choked up with a horrible experience, +it inevitably followed that she should seek in vain, among those friends +so venerated and beloved, for the marvels which they had heretofore +shown her. In spite of a reverence that lingered longer than her +recognition, their poor worshipper became almost an infidel, and +sometimes doubted whether the pictorial art be not altogether a +delusion. + +For the first time in her life, Hilda now grew acquainted with that +icy demon of weariness, who haunts great picture galleries. He is +a plausible Mephistopheles, and possesses the magic that is the +destruction of all other magic. He annihilates color, warmth, and, more +especially, sentiment and passion, at a touch. If he spare anything, it +will be some such matter as an earthen pipkin, or a bunch of herrings by +Teniers; a brass kettle, in which you can see your rice, by Gerard Douw; +a furred robe, or the silken texture of a mantle, or a straw hat, by Van +Mieris; or a long-stalked wineglass, transparent and full of shifting +reflection, or a bit of bread and cheese, or an over-ripe peach with +a fly upon it, truer than reality itself, by the school of Dutch +conjurers. These men, and a few Flemings, whispers the wicked demon, +were the only painters. The mighty Italian masters, as you deem them, +were not human, nor addressed their work to human sympathies, but to +a false intellectual taste, which they themselves were the first to +create. Well might they call their doings “art,” for they substituted +art instead of nature. Their fashion is past, and ought, indeed, to have +died and been buried along with them. + +Then there is such a terrible lack of variety in their subjects. The +churchmen, their great patrons, suggested most of their themes, and +a dead mythology the rest. A quarter part, probably, of any large +collection of pictures consists of Virgins and infant Christs, repeated +over and over again in pretty much an identical spirit, and generally +with no more mixture of the Divine than just enough to spoil them as +representations of maternity and childhood, with which everybody’s heart +might have something to do. Half of the other pictures are Magdalens, +Flights into Egypt, Crucifixions, Depositions from the Cross, Pietas, +Noli-me-tangeres, or the Sacrifice of Abraham, or martyrdoms of saints, +originally painted as altar-pieces, or for the shrines of chapels, and +woefully lacking the accompaniments which the artist haft in view. + +The remainder of the gallery comprises mythological subjects, such as +nude Venuses, Ledas, Graces, and, in short, a general apotheosis of +nudity, once fresh and rosy perhaps, but yellow and dingy in our day, +and retaining only a traditionary charm. These impure pictures are from +the same illustrious and impious hands that adventured to call before +us the august forms of Apostles and Saints, the Blessed Mother of the +Redeemer, and her Son, at his death, and in his glory, and even the +awfulness of Him, to whom the martyrs, dead a thousand years ago, have +not yet dared to raise their eyes. They seem to take up one task or the +other w the disrobed woman whom they call Venus, or the type of highest +and tenderest womanhood in the mother of their Saviour with equal +readiness, but to achieve the former with far more satisfactory success. +If an artist sometimes produced a picture of the Virgin, possessing +warmth enough to excite devotional feelings, it was probably the object +of his earthly love to whom he thus paid the stupendous and fearful +homage of setting up her portrait to be worshipped, not figuratively as +a mortal, but by religious souls in their earnest aspirations towards +Divinity. And who can trust the religious sentiment of Raphael, or +receive any of his Virgins as heaven-descended likenesses, after seeing, +for example, the Fornarina of the Barberini Palace, and feeling how +sensual the artist must have been to paint such a brazen trollop of his +own accord, and lovingly? Would the Blessed Mary reveal herself to his +spiritual vision, and favor him with sittings alternately with that type +of glowing earthliness, the Fornarina? + +But no sooner have we given expression to this irreverent criticism, +than a throng of spiritual faces look reproachfully upon us. We see +cherubs by Raphael, whose baby innocence could only have been nursed +in paradise; angels by Raphael as innocent as they, but whose serene +intelligence embraces both earthly and celestial things; madonnas by +Raphael, on whose lips he has impressed a holy and delicate reserve, +implying sanctity on earth, and into whose soft eyes he has thrown a +light which he never could have imagined except by raising his own +eyes with a pure aspiration heavenward. We remember, too, that divinest +countenance in the Transfiguration, and withdraw all that we have said. + +Poor Hilda, however, in her gloomiest moments, was never guilty of the +high treason suggested in the above remarks against her beloved and +honored Raphael. She had a faculty (which, fortunately for themselves, +pure women often have) of ignoring all moral blotches in a character +that won her admiration. She purified the objects; of her regard by the +mere act of turning such spotless eyes upon them. + +Hilda’s despondency, nevertheless, while it dulled her perceptions in +one respect, had deepened them in another; she saw beauty less vividly, +but felt truth, or the lack of it, more profoundly. She began to suspect +that some, at least, of her venerated painters, had left an inevitable +hollowness in their works, because, in the most renowned of them, they +essayed to express to the world what they had not in their own souls. +They deified their light and Wandering affections, and were continually +playing off the tremendous jest, alluded to above, of offering the +features of some venal beauty to be enshrined in the holiest places. A +deficiency of earnestness and absolute truth is generally discoverable +in Italian pictures, after the art had become consummate. When you +demand what is deepest, these painters have not wherewithal to respond. +They substituted a keen intellectual perception, and a marvellous knack +of external arrangement, instead of the live sympathy and sentiment +which should have been their inspiration. And hence it happens, that +shallow and worldly men are among the best critics of their works; a +taste for pictorial art is often no more than a polish upon the hard +enamel of an artificial character. Hilda had lavished her whole heart +upon it, and found (just as if she had lavished it upon a human idol) +that the greater part was thrown away. + +For some of the earlier painters, however, she still retained much +of her former reverence. Fra Angelico, she felt, must have breathed a +humble aspiration between every two touches of his brush, in order to +have made the finished picture such a visible prayer as we behold it, in +the guise of a prim angel, or a saint without the human nature. Through +all these dusky centuries, his works may still help a struggling heart +to pray. Perugino was evidently a devout man; and the Virgin, therefore, +revealed herself to him in loftier and sweeter faces of celestial +womanhood, and yet with a kind of homeliness in their human mould, than +even the genius of Raphael could imagine. Sodoma, beyond a question, +both prayed and wept, while painting his fresco, at Siena, of Christ +bound to a pillar. + +In her present need and hunger for a spiritual revelation, Hilda felt a +vast and weary longing to see this last-mentioned picture once again. It +is inexpressibly touching. So weary is the Saviour and utterly worn out +with agony, that his lips have fallen apart from mere exhaustion; his +eyes seem to be set; he tries to lean his head against the pillar, but +is kept from sinking down upon the ground only by the cords that +bind him. One of the most striking effects produced is the sense of +loneliness. You behold Christ deserted both in heaven and earth; that +despair is in him which wrung forth the saddest utterance man ever made, +“Why hast Thou forsaken me?” Even in this extremity, however, he is +still divine. The great and reverent painter has not suffered the Son of +God to be merely an object of pity, though depicting him in a state so +profoundly pitiful. He is rescued from it, we know not how,--by nothing +less than miracle,--by a celestial majesty and beauty, and some quality +of which these are the outward garniture. He is as much, and as visibly, +our Redeemer, there bound, there fainting, and bleeding from the +scourge, with the cross in view, as if he sat on his throne of glory in +the heavens! Sodoma, in this matchless picture, has done more towards +reconciling the incongruity of Divine Omnipotence and outraged, +suffering Humanity, combined in one person, than the theologians ever +did. + +This hallowed work of genius shows what pictorial art, devoutly +exercised, might effect in behalf of religious truth; involving, as it +does, deeper mysteries of revelation, and bringing them closer to man’s +heart, and making him tenderer to be impressed by them, than the most +eloquent words of preacher or prophet. + +It is not of pictures like the above that galleries, in Rome or +elsewhere, are made up, but of productions immeasurably below them, +and requiring to be appreciated by a very different frame of mind. Few +amateurs are endowed with a tender susceptibility to the sentiment of +a picture; they are not won from an evil life, nor anywise morally +improved by it. The love of art, therefore, differs widely in its +influence from the love of nature; whereas, if art had not strayed away +from its legitimate paths and aims, it ought to soften and sweeten +the lives of its worshippers, in even a more exquisite degree than the +contemplation of natural objects. But, of its own potency, it has no +such effect; and it fails, likewise, in that other test of its moral +value which poor Hilda was now involuntarily trying upon it. It cannot +comfort the heart in affliction; it grows dim when the shadow is upon +us. + +So the melancholy girl wandered through those long galleries, and over +the mosaic pavements of vast, solitary saloons, wondering what had +become of the splendor that used to beam upon her from the walls. She +grew sadly critical, and condemned almost everything that she was wont +to admire. Heretofore, her sympathy went deeply into a picture, yet +seemed to leave a depth which it was inadequate to sound; now, on the +contrary, her perceptive faculty penetrated the canvas like a steel +probe, and found but a crust of paint over an emptiness. Not that she +gave up all art as worthless; only it had lost its consecration. One +picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the applause of +mankind, from generation to generation, until the colors fade and +blacken out of sight, or the canvas rot entirely away. For the rest, let +them be piled in garrets, just as the tolerable poets are shelved, when +their little day is over. Is a painter more sacred than a poet? + +And as for these galleries of Roman palaces, they were to Hilda, +--though she still trod them with the forlorn hope of getting back her +sympathies,--they were drearier than the whitewashed walls of a prison +corridor. If a magnificent palace were founded, as was generally the +case, on hardened guilt and a stony conscience,--if the prince or +cardinal who stole the marble of his vast mansion from the Coliseum, or +some Roman temple, had perpetrated still deadlier crimes, as probably he +did,--there could be no fitter punishment for his ghost than to wander, +perpetually through these long suites of rooms, over the cold marble or +mosaic of the floors, growing chiller at every eternal footstep. Fancy +the progenitor of the Dorias thus haunting those heavy halls where +his posterity reside! Nor would it assuage his monotonous misery, but +increase it manifold, to be compelled to scrutinize those masterpieces +of art, which he collected with so much cost and care, and gazing at +them unintelligently, still leave a further portion of his vital warmth +at every one. + +Such, or of a similar kind, is the torment of those who seek to enjoy +pictures in an uncongenial mood. Every haunter of picture galleries, +we should imagine, must have experienced it, in greater or less degree; +Hilda never till now, but now most bitterly. + +And now, for the first time in her lengthened absence, comprising +so many years of her young life, she began to be acquainted with the +exile’s pain. Her pictorial imagination brought up vivid scenes of her +native village, with its great old elm-trees; and the neat, comfortable +houses, scattered along the wide, grassy margin of its street, and the +white meeting-house, and her mother’s very door, and the stream of gold +brown water, which her taste for color had kept flowing, all this +while, through her remembrance. O dreary streets, palaces, churches, and +imperial sepulchres of hot and dusty Rome, with the muddy Tiber eddying +through the midst, instead of the gold-brown rivulet! How she pined +under this crumbly magnificence, as if it were piled all upon her +human heart! How she yearned for that native homeliness, those familiar +sights, those faces which she had known always, those days that never +brought any strange event; that life of sober week-days, and a solemn +sabbath at the close! The peculiar fragrance of a flower-bed, which +Hilda used to cultivate, came freshly to her memory, across the windy +sea, and through the long years since the flowers had withered. Her +heart grew faint at the hundred reminiscences that were awakened by that +remembered smell of dead blossoms; it was like opening a drawer, where +many things were laid away, and every one of them scented with lavender +and dried rose-leaves. + +We ought not to betray Hilda’s secret; but it is the truth, that being +so sad, and so utterly alone, and in such great need of sympathy, her +thoughts sometimes recurred to the sculptor. Had she met him now, her +heart, indeed, might not have been won, but her confidence would have +flown to him like a bird to its nest. One summer afternoon, especially, +Hilda leaned upon the battlements of her tower, and looked over Rome +towards the distant mountains, whither Kenyon had told her that he was +going. + +“O that he were here!” she sighed; “I perish under this terrible secret; +and he might help me to endure it. O that he were here!” + +That very afternoon, as the reader may remember, Kenyon felt +Hilda’s hand pulling at the silken cord that was connected with his +heart-strings, as he stood looking towards Rome from the battlements of +Monte Beni. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +ALTARS AND INCENSE + + +Rome has a certain species of consolation readier at hand, for all the +necessitous, than any other spot under the sun; and Hilda’s despondent +state made her peculiarly liable to the peril, if peril it can justly be +termed, of seeking, or consenting, to be thus consoled. + +Had the Jesuits known the situation of this troubled heart, her +inheritance of New England Puritanism would hardly have protected the +poor girl from the pious strategy of those good fathers. Knowing, as +they do, how to work each proper engine, it would have been ultimately +impossible for Hilda to resist the attractions of a faith, which so +marvellously adapts itself to every human need. Not, indeed, that it can +satisfy the soul’s cravings, but, at least, it can sometimes help +the soul towards a higher satisfaction than the faith contains within +itself. It supplies a multitude of external forms, in which the +spiritual may be clothed and manifested; it has many painted windows, +as it were, through which the celestial sunshine, else disregarded, may +make itself gloriously perceptible in visions of beauty and splendor. +There is no one want or weakness of human nature for which Catholicism +will own itself without a remedy; cordials, certainly, it possesses in +abundance, and sedatives in inexhaustible variety, and what may once +have been genuine medicaments, though a little the worse for long +keeping. + +To do it justice, Catholicism is such a miracle of fitness for its +own ends, many of which might seem to be admirable ones, that it is +difficult to imagine it a contrivance of mere man. Its mighty machinery +was forged and put together, not on middle earth, but either above +or below. If there were but angels to work it, instead of the very +different class of engineers who now manage its cranks and safety +valves, the system would soon vindicate the dignity and holiness of its +origin. + +Hilda had heretofore made many pilgrimages among the churches of Rome, +for the sake of wondering at their gorgeousness. Without a glimpse at +these palaces of worship, it is impossible to imagine the magnificence +of the religion that reared them. Many of them shine with burnished +gold. They glow with pictures. Their walls, columns, and arches seem a +quarry of precious stones, so beautiful and costly are the marbles +with which they are inlaid. Their pavements are often a mosaic, of rare +workmanship. Around their lofty cornices hover flights of sculptured +angels; and within the vault of the ceiling and the swelling interior +of the dome, there are frescos of such brilliancy, and wrought with so +artful a perspective, that the sky, peopled with sainted forms, appears +to be opened only a little way above the spectator. Then there are +chapels, opening from the side aisles and transepts, decorated by +princes for their own burial places, and as shrines for their especial +saints. In these, the splendor of the entire edifice is intensified +and gathered to a focus. Unless words were gems, that would flame with +many-colored light upon the page, and throw thence a tremulous glimmer +into the reader’s eyes, it were wain to attempt a description of a +princely chapel. + +Restless with her trouble, Hilda now entered upon another pilgrimage +among these altars and shrines. She climbed the hundred steps of the Ara +Coeli; she trod the broad, silent nave of St. John Lateran; she stood +in the Pantheon, under the round opening in the dome, through which +the blue sunny sky still gazes down, as it used to gaze when there were +Roman deities in the antique niches. She went into every church that +rose before her, but not now to wonder at its magnificence, when she +hardly noticed more than if it had been the pine-built interior of a New +England meeting-house. + +She went--and it was a dangerous errand--to observe how closely and +comfortingly the popish faith applied itself to all human occasions. It +was impossible to doubt that multitudes of people found their spiritual +advantage in it, who would find none at all in our own formless mode of +worship; which, besides, so far as the sympathy of prayerful souls is +concerned, can be enjoyed only at stated and too unfrequent periods. But +here, whenever the hunger for divine nutriment came upon the soul, it +could on the instant be appeased. At one or another altar, the incense +was forever ascending; the mass always being performed, and carrying +upward with it the devotion of such as had not words for their own +prayer. And yet, if the worshipper had his individual petition to offer, +his own heart-secret to whisper below his breath, there were divine +auditors ever ready to receive it from his lips; and what encouraged him +still more, these auditors had not always been divine, but kept, within +their heavenly memories, the tender humility of a human experience. Now +a saint in heaven, but once a man on earth. + +Hilda saw peasants, citizens, soldiers, nobles, women with bare heads, +ladies in their silks, entering the churches individually, kneeling for +moments or for hours, and directing their inaudible devotions to the +shrine of some saint of their own choice. In his hallowed person, they +felt themselves possessed of an own friend in heaven. They were too +humble to approach the Deity directly. Conscious of their unworthiness, +they asked the mediation of their sympathizing patron, who, on the score +of his ancient martyrdom, and after many ages of celestial life, might +venture to talk with the Divine Presence, almost as friend with friend. +Though dumb before its Judge, even despair could speak, and pour out the +misery of its soul like water, to an advocate so wise to comprehend the +case, and eloquent to plead it, and powerful to win pardon whatever +were the guilt. Hilda witnessed what she deemed to be an example of this +species of confidence between a young man and his saint. He stood before +a shrine, writhing, wringing his hands, contorting his whole frame in +an agony of remorseful recollection, but finally knelt down to weep and +pray. If this youth had been a Protestant, he would have kept all that +torture pent up in his heart, and let it burn there till it seared him +into indifference. + +Often and long, Hilda lingered before the shrines and chapels of the +Virgin, and departed from them with reluctant steps. Here, perhaps, +strange as it may seem, her delicate appreciation of art stood her +in good stead, and lost Catholicism a convert. If the painter had +represented Mary with a heavenly face, poor Hilda was now in the very +mood to worship her, and adopt the faith in which she held so elevated +a position. But she saw that it was merely the flattered portrait of +an earthly beauty; the wife, at best, of the artist; or, it might be, a +peasant girl of the Campagna, or some Roman princess, to whom he desired +to pay his court. For love, or some even less justifiable motive, the +old painter had apotheosized these women; he thus gained for them, as +far as his skill would go, not only the meed of immortality, but the +privilege of presiding over Christian altars, and of being worshipped +with far holier fervors than while they dwelt on earth. Hilda’s fine +sense of the fit and decorous could not be betrayed into kneeling at +such a shrine. + +She never found just the virgin mother whom she needed. Here it was +an earthly mother, worshipping the earthly baby in her lap, as any and +every mother does, from Eve’s time downward. In another picture, there +was a dim sense, shown in the mother’s face, of some divine quality +in the child. In a third, the artist seemed to have had a higher +perception, and had striven hard to shadow out the Virgin’s joy at +bringing the Saviour into the world, and her awe and love, inextricably +mingled, of the little form which she pressed against her bosom. So +far was good. But still, Hilda looked for something more; a face of +celestial beauty, but human as well as heavenly, and with the shadow +of past grief upon it; bright with immortal youth, yet matronly and +motherly; and endowed with a queenly dignity, but infinitely tender, as +the highest and deepest attribute of her divinity. + +“Ah,” thought Hilda to herself, “why should not there be a woman to +listen to the prayers of women? A mother in heaven for all motherless +girls like me? In all God’s thought and care for us, can he have +withheld this boon, which our weakness so much needs?” + +Oftener than to the other churches, she wandered into St. Peter’s. +Within its vast limits, she thought, and beneath the sweep of its great +dome, there should be space for all forms of Christian truth; room both +for the faithful and the heretic to kneel; due help for every creature’s +spiritual want. + +Hilda had not always been adequately impressed by the grandeur of this +mighty cathedral. When she first lifted the heavy leathern curtain, at +one of the doors, a shadowy edifice in her imagination had been dazzled +out of sight by the reality. Her preconception of St. Peter’s was a +structure of no definite outline, misty in its architecture, dim +and gray and huge, stretching into an interminable perspective, and +overarched by a dome like the cloudy firmament. Beneath that vast +breadth and height, as she had fancied them, the personal man might +feel his littleness, and the soul triumph in its immensity. So, in +her earlier visits, when the compassed splendor Of the actual interior +glowed before her eyes, she had profanely called it a great prettiness; +a gay piece of cabinet work, on a Titanic scale; a jewel casket, +marvellously magnified. + +This latter image best pleased her fancy; a casket, all inlaid in the +inside with precious stones of various hue, so that there Should not be +a hair’s-breadth of the small interior unadorned with its resplendent +gem. Then, conceive this minute wonder of a mosaic box, increased to +the magnitude of a cathedral, without losing the intense lustre of its +littleness, but all its petty glory striving to be sublime. The magic +transformation from the minute to the vast has not been so cunningly +effected but that the rich adornment still counteracts the impression of +space and loftiness. The spectator is more sensible of its limits than +of its extent. + +Until after many visits, Hilda continued to mourn for that dim, +illimitable interior, which with her eyes shut she had seen from +childhood, but which vanished at her first glimpse through the actual +door. Her childish vision seemed preferable to the cathedral which +Michael Angelo, and all the great architects, had built; because, of +the dream edifice, she had said, “How vast it is!” while of the real St. +Peter’s she could only say, “After all, it is not so immense!” Besides, +such as the church is, it can nowhere be made visible at one glance. +It stands in its own way. You see an aisle, or a transept; you see the +nave, or the tribune; but, on account of its ponderous piers and other +obstructions, it is only by this fragmentary process that you get an +idea of the cathedral. + +There is no answering such objections. The great church smiles calmly +upon its critics, and, for all response, says, “Look at me!” and if you +still murmur for the loss of your shadowy perspective, there comes no +reply, save, “Look at me!” in endless repetition, as the one thing to +be said. And, after looking many times, with long intervals between, you +discover that the cathedral has gradually extended itself over the whole +compass of your idea; it covers all the site of your visionary temple, +and has room for its cloudy pinnacles beneath the dome. + +One afternoon, as Hilda entered St. Peter’s in sombre mood, its interior +beamed upon her with all the effect of a new creation. It seemed an +embodiment of whatever the imagination could conceive, or the heart +desire, as a magnificent, comprehensive, majestic symbol of religious +faith. All splendor was included within its verge, and there was space +for all. She gazed with delight even at the multiplicity of ornament. +She was glad at the cherubim that fluttered upon the pilasters, and of +the marble doves, hovering unexpectedly, with green olive-branches +of precious stones. She could spare nothing, now, of the manifold +magnificence that had been lavished, in a hundred places, richly enough +to have made world-famous shrines in any other church, but which +here melted away into the vast sunny breadth, and were of no separate +account. Yet each contributed its little all towards the grandeur of the +whole. + +She would not have banished one of those grim popes, who sit each over +his own tomb, scattering cold benedictions out of their marble hands; +nor a single frozen sister of the Allegoric family, to whom--as, like +hired mourners at an English funeral, it costs them no wear and tear of +heart--is assigned the office of weeping for the dead. If you choose to +see these things, they present themselves; if you deem them unsuitable +and out of place, they vanish, individually, but leave their life upon +the walls. + +The pavement! it stretched out illimitably, a plain of many-colored +marble, where thousands of worshippers might kneel together, and +shadowless angels tread among them without brushing their heavenly +garments against those earthly ones. The roof! the dome! Rich, gorgeous, +filled with sunshine, cheerfully sublime, and fadeless after +centuries, those lofty depths seemed to translate the heavens to mortal +comprehension, and help the spirit upward to a yet higher and wider +sphere. Must not the faith, that built this matchless edifice, and +warmed, illuminated, and overflowed from it, include whatever can +satisfy human aspirations at the loftiest, or minister to human +necessity at the sorest? If Religion had a material home, was it not +here? + +As the scene which we but faintly suggest shone calmly before the New +England maiden at her entrance, she moved, as if by very instinct, to +one of the vases of holy water, upborne against a column by two mighty +cherubs. Hilda dipped her fingers, and had almost signed the cross upon +her breast, but forbore, and trembled, while shaking the water from her +finger-tips. She felt as if her mother’s spirit, somewhere within +the dome, were looking down upon her child, the daughter of Puritan +forefathers, and weeping to behold her ensnared by these gaudy +superstitions. So she strayed sadly onward, up the nave, and towards the +hundred golden lights that swarm before the high altar. Seeing a woman; +a priest, and a soldier kneel to kiss the toe of the brazen St. Peter, +who protrudes it beyond his pedestal for the purpose, polished bright +with former salutations, while a child stood on tiptoe to do the same, +the glory of the church was darkened before Hilda’s eyes. But again she +went onward into remoter regions. She turned into the right transept, +and thence found her way to a shrine, in the extreme corner of the +edifice, which is adorned with a mosaic copy of Guido’s beautiful +Archangel, treading on the prostrate fiend. + +This was one of the few pictures, which, in these dreary days, had not +faded nor deteriorated in Hilda’s estimation; not that it was better +than many in which she no longer took an interest; but the subtile +delicacy of the painter’s genius was peculiarly adapted to her +character. She felt, while gazing at it, that the artist had done a +great thing, not merely for the Church of Rome, but for the cause of +Good. The moral of the picture, the immortal youth and loveliness of +virtue, and its irresistibles might against ugly Evil, appealed as much +to Puritans as Catholics. + +Suddenly, and as if it were done in a dream, Hilda found herself +kneeling before the shrine, under the ever-burning lamp that throws +its rays upon the Archangel’s face. She laid her forehead on the marble +steps before the altar, and sobbed out a prayer; she hardly knew to +whom, whether Michael, the Virgin, or the Father; she hardly knew for +what, save only a vague longing, that thus the burden of her spirit +might be lightened a little. + +In an instant she snatched herself up, as it were, from her knees, all +a-throb with the emotions which were struggling to force their way out +of her heart by the avenue that had so nearly been opened for them. Yet +there was a strange sense of relief won by that momentary, passionate +prayer; a strange joy, moreover, whether from what she had done, or for +what she had escaped doing, Hilda could not tell. But she felt as one +half stifled, who has stolen a breath of air. + +Next to the shrine where she had knelt there is another, adorned with +a picture by Guercino, representing a maiden’s body in the jaws of the +sepulchre, and her lover weeping over it; while her beatified spirit +looks down upon the scene, in the society of the Saviour and a throng +of saints. Hilda wondered if it were not possible, by some miracle of +faith, so to rise above her present despondency that she might look down +upon what she was, just as Petronilla in the picture looked at her own +corpse. A hope, born of hysteric trouble, fluttered in her heart. A +presentiment, or what she fancied such, whispered her, that, before she +had finished the circuit of the cathedral, relief would come. + +The unhappy are continually tantalized by similar delusions of succor +near at hand; at least, the despair is very dark that has no such +will-o’-the-wisp to glimmer in it. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +THE WORLD’S CATHEDRAL + + +Still gliding onward, Hilda now looked up into the dome, where the +sunshine came through the western windows, and threw across long shafts +of light. They rested upon the mosaic figures of two evangelists above +the cornice. These great beams of radiance, traversing what seemed the +empty space, were made visible in misty glory, by the holy cloud of +incense, else unseen, which had risen into the middle dome. It was to +Hilda as if she beheld the worship of the priest and people ascending +heavenward, purified from its alloy of earth, and acquiring celestial +substance in the golden atmosphere to which it aspired, She wondered if +angels did not sometimes hover within the dome, and show themselves, in +brief glimpses, floating amid the sunshine and the glorified vapor, to +those who devoutly worshipped on the pavement. + +She had now come into the southern transept. Around this portion of the +church are ranged a number of confessionals. They are small tabernacles +of carved wood, with a closet for the priest in the centre; and, on +either side, a space for a penitent to kneel, and breathe his confession +through a perforated auricle into the good father’s ear. Observing this +arrangement, though already familiar to her, our poor Hilda was anew +impressed with the infinite convenience--if we may use so poor a +phrase--of the Catholic religion to its devout believers. + +Who, in truth, that considers the matter, can resist a similar +impression! In the hottest fever-fit of life, they can always find, +ready for their need, a cool, quiet, beautiful place of worship. They +may enter its sacred precincts at any hour, leaving the fret and trouble +of the world behind them, and purifying themselves with a touch of +holy water at the threshold. In the calm interior, fragrant of rich and +soothing incense, they may hold converse with some saint, their awful, +kindly friend. And, most precious privilege of all, whatever perplexity, +sorrow, guilt, may weigh upon their souls, they can fling down the dark +burden at the foot of the cross, and go forth--to sin no more, nor be +any longer disquieted; but to live again in the freshness and elasticity +of innocence. + +“Do not these inestimable advantages,” thought Hilda, “or some of them +at least, belong to Christianity itself? Are they not a part of the +blessings which the system was meant to bestow upon mankind? Can the +faith in which I was born and bred be perfect, if it leave a weak girl +like me to wander, desolate, with this great trouble crushing me down?” + +A poignant anguish thrilled within her breast; it was like a thing that +had life, and was struggling to get out. + +“O help! O help!” cried Hilda; “I cannot, cannot bear it!” + +Only by the reverberations that followed--arch echoing the sound to +arch, and a pope of bronze repeating it to a pope of marble, as each +sat enthroned over his tomb--did Hilda become aware that she had really +spoken above her breath. But, in that great space, there is no need to +hush up the heart within one’s own bosom, so carefully as elsewhere; +and if the cry reached any distant auditor, it came broken into many +fragments, and from various quarters of the church. + +Approaching one of the confessionals, she saw a woman kneeling within. +Just as Hilda drew near, the penitent rose, came forth, and kissed the +hand of the priest, who regarded her with a look of paternal benignity, +and appeared to be giving her some spiritual counsel, in a low voice. +She then knelt to receive his blessing, which was fervently bestowed. +Hilda was so struck with the peace and joy in the woman’s face, that, as +the latter retired, she could not help speaking to her. + +“You look very happy!” said she. “Is it so sweet, then, to go to the +confessional?” + +“O, very sweet, my dear signorina!” answered the woman, with moistened +eyes and an affectionate smile; for she was so thoroughly softened with +what she had been doing, that she felt as if Hilda were her younger +sister. “My heart is at rest now. Thanks be to the Saviour, and the +Blessed Virgin and the saints, and this good father, there is no more +trouble for poor Teresa!” + +“I am glad for your sake,” said Hilda, sighing for her own. “I am a poor +heretic, but a human sister; and I rejoice for you!” + +She went from one to another of the confessionals, and, looking at +each, perceived that they were inscribed with gilt letters: on one, +Pro Italica Lingua; on another, Pro Flandrica Lingua; on a third, Pro +Polonica Lingua; on a fourth, Pro Illyrica Lingua; on a fifth, Pro +Hispanica Lingua. In this vast and hospitable cathedral, worthy to be +the religious heart of the whole world, there was room for all nations; +there was access to the Divine Grace for every Christian soul; there was +an ear for what the overburdened heart might have to murmur, speak in +what native tongue it would. + +When Hilda had almost completed the circuit of the transept, she came to +a confessional--the central part was closed, but a mystic room protruded +from it, indicating the presence of a priest within--on which was +inscribed, Pro Anglica Lingua. + +It was the word in season! If she had heard her mother’s voice from +within the tabernacle, calling her, in her own mother-tongue, to come +and lay her poor head in her lap, and sob out all her troubles, Hilda +could not have responded with a more inevitable obedience. She did not +think; she only felt. Within her heart was a great need. Close at hand, +within the veil of the confessional, was the relief. She flung herself +down in the penitent’s place; and, tremulously, passionately, with sobs, +tears, and the turbulent overflow of emotion too long repressed, she +poured out the dark story which had infused its poison into her innocent +life. + +Hilda had not seen, nor could she now see, the visage of the priest. +But, at intervals, in the pauses of that strange confession, half choked +by the struggle of her feelings toward an outlet, she heard a mild, calm +voice, somewhat mellowed by age. It spoke soothingly; it encouraged her; +it led her on by apposite questions that seemed to be suggested by a +great and tender interest, and acted like magnetism in attracting the +girl’s confidence to this unseen friend. The priest’s share in the +interview, indeed, resembled that of one who removes the stones, +clustered branches, or whatever entanglements impede the current of a +swollen stream. Hilda could have imagined--so much to the purpose were +his inquiries--that he was already acquainted with some outline of what +she strove to tell him. + +Thus assisted, she revealed the whole of her terrible secret! The whole, +except that no name escaped her lips. + +And, ah, what a relief! When the hysteric gasp, the strife between words +and sobs, had subsided, what a torture had passed away from her soul! It +was all gone; her bosom was as pure now as in her childhood. She was a +girl again; she was Hilda of the dove-cote; not that doubtful creature +whom her own doves had hardly recognized as their mistress and playmate, +by reason of the death-scent that clung to her garments! + +After she had ceased to speak, Hilda heard the priest bestir +himself with an old man’s reluctant movement. He stepped out of the +confessional; and as the girl was still kneeling in the penitential +corner, he summoned her forth. + +“Stand up, my daughter,” said the mild voice of the confessor; “what we +have further to say must be spoken face to face.” + +Hilda did his bidding, and stood before him with a downcast visage, +which flushed and grew pale again. But it had the wonderful beauty which +we may often observe in those who have recently gone through a great +struggle, and won the peace that lies just on the other side. We see +it in a new mother’s face; we see it in the faces of the dead; and +in Hilda’s countenance--which had always a rare natural charm for her +friends--this glory of peace made her as lovely as an angel. + +On her part, Hilda beheld a venerable figure with hair as white as snow, +and a face strikingly characterized by benevolence. It bore marks of +thought, however, and penetrative insight; although the keen glances of +the eyes were now somewhat bedimmed with tears, which the aged shed, or +almost shed, on lighter stress of emotion than would elicit them from +younger men. + +“It has not escaped my observation, daughter,” said the priest, “that +this is your first acquaintance with the confessional. How is this?” + +“Father,” replied Hilda, raising her eyes, and again letting them fall, +“I am of New Eng land birth, and was bred as what you call a heretic.” + +“From New England!” exclaimed the priest. “It was my own birthplace, +likewise; nor have fifty years of absence made me cease to love it. But +a heretic! And are you reconciled to the Church?” + +“Never, father,” said Hilda. + +“And, that being the case,” demanded the old man, “on what ground, my +daughter, have you sought to avail yourself of these blessed privileges, +confined exclusively to members of the one true Church, of confession +and absolution?” + +“Absolution, father?” exclaimed Hilda, shrinking back. “O no, no! I +never dreamed of that! Only our Heavenly Father can forgive my sins; and +it is only by sincere repentance of whatever wrong I may have done, and +by my own best efforts towards a higher life, that I can hope for his +forgiveness! God forbid that I should ask absolution from mortal man!” + +“Then wherefore,” rejoined the priest, with somewhat less mildness in +his tone,--“wherefore, I ask again, have you taken possession, as I may +term it, of this holy ordinance; being a heretic, and neither seeking to +share, nor having faith in, the unspeakable advantages which the Church +offers to its penitents?” + +“Father,” answered Hilda, trying to tell the old man the simple truth, +“I am a motherless girl, and a stranger here in Italy. I had only God +to take care of me, and be my closest friend; and the terrible, terrible +crime, which I have revealed to you, thrust itself between him and me; +so that I groped for him in the darkness, as it were, and found him +not,--found nothing but a dreadful solitude, and this crime in the midst +of it! I could not bear it. It seemed as if I made the awful guilt my +own, by keeping it hidden in my heart. I grew a fearful thing to myself. +I was going mad!” + +“It was a grievous trial, my poor child!” observed the confessor. “Your +relief, I trust, will prove to be greater than you yet know!” + +“I feel already how immense it is!” said Hilda, looking gratefully in +his face. “Surely, father, it was the hand of Providence that led me +hither, and made me feel that this vast temple of Christianity, this +great home of religion, must needs contain some cure, some ease, at +least, for my unutterable anguish. And it has proved so. I have told the +hideous secret; told it under the sacred seal of the confessional; and +now it will burn my poor heart no more!” + +“But, daughter,” answered the venerable priest, not unmoved by what +Hilda said, “you forget! you mistake!--you claim a privilege to which +you have not entitled yourself! The seal of the confessional, do you +say? God forbid that it should ever be broken where it has been fairly +impressed; but it applies only to matters that have been confided to its +keeping in a certain prescribed method, and by persons, moreover, who +have faith in the sanctity of the ordinance. I hold myself, and any +learned casuist of the Church would hold me, as free to disclose all the +particulars of what you term your confession, as if they had come to my +knowledge in a secular way.” + +“This is not right, father!” said Hilda, fixing her eyes on the old +man’s. + +“Do not you see, child,” he rejoined, with some little heat, “with all +your nicety of conscience, cannot you recognize it as my duty to make +the story known to the proper authorities; a great crime against public +justice being involved, and further evil consequences likely to ensue?” + +“No, father, no!” answered Hilda, courageously, her cheeks flushing and +her eyes brightening as she spoke. “Trust a girl’s simple heart sooner +than any casuist of your Church, however learned he may be. Trust your +own heart, too! I came to your confessional, father, as I devoutly +believe, by the direct impulse of Heaven, which also brought you hither +to-day, in its mercy and love, to relieve me of a torture that I could +no longer bear. I trusted in the pledge which your Church has always +held sacred between the priest and the human soul, which, through his +medium, is struggling towards its Father above. What I have confided to +you lies sacredly between God and yourself. Let it rest there, father; +for this is right, and if you do otherwise, you will perpetrate a great +wrong, both as a priest and a man! And believe me, no question, no +torture, shall ever force my lips to utter what would be necessary, +in order to make my confession available towards the punishment of the +guilty ones. Leave Providence to deal with them!” + +“My quiet little countrywoman,” said the priest, with half a smile on +his kindly old face, “you can pluck up a spirit, I perceive, when you +fancy an occasion for one.” + +“I have spirit only to do what I think right,” replied Hilda simply. “In +other respects I am timorous.” + +“But you confuse yourself between right feelings and very foolish +inferences,” continued the priest, “as is the wont of women,--so much +I have learnt by long experience in the confessional,--be they young or +old. However, to set your heart at rest, there is no probable need +for me to reveal the matter. What you have told, if I mistake not, and +perhaps more, is already known in the quarter which it most concerns.” + +“Known!” exclaimed Hilda. “Known to the authorities of Rome! And what +will be the consequence?” + +“Hush!” answered the confessor, laying his finger on his lips. “I tell +you my supposition--mind, it is no assertion of the fact--in order +that you may go the more cheerfully on your way, not deeming yourself +burdened with any responsibility as concerns this dark deed. And now, +daughter, what have you to give in return for an old man’s kindness and +sympathy?” + +“My grateful remembrance,” said Hilda, fervently, “as long as I live!” + +“And nothing more?” the priest inquired, with a persuasive smile. “Will +you not reward him with a great joy; one of the last joys that he may +know on earth, and a fit one to take with him into the better world? In +a word, will you not allow me to bring you as a stray lamb into the true +fold? You have experienced some little taste of the relief and comfort +which the Church keeps abundantly in store for all its faithful +children. Come home, dear child,--poor wanderer, who hast caught a +glimpse of the heavenly light,--come home, and be at rest.” + +“Father,” said Hilda, much moved by his kindly earnestness, in +which, however, genuine as it was, there might still be a leaven of +professional craft, “I dare not come a step farther than Providence +shall guide me. Do not let it grieve you, therefore, if I never return +to the confessional; never dip my fingers in holy water; never sign my +bosom with the cross. I am a daughter of the Puritans. But, in spite of +my heresy,” she added with a sweet, tearful smile, “you may one day +see the poor girl, to whom you have done this great Christian kindness, +coming to remind you of it, and thank you for it, in the Better Land.” + +The old priest shook his head. But, as he stretched out his hands at the +same moment, in the act of benediction, Hilda knelt down and received +the blessing with as devout a simplicity as any Catholic of them all. + + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +HILDA AND A FRIEND + + +When Hilda knelt to receive the priest’s benediction, the act was +witnessed by a person who stood leaning against the marble balustrade +that surrounds the hundred golden lights, before the high altar. He had +stood there, indeed, from the moment of the girl’s entrance into the +confessional. His start of surprise, at first beholding her, and +the anxious gloom that afterwards settled on his face, sufficiently +betokened that he felt a deep and sad interest in what was going +forward. + +After Hilda had bidden the priest farewell, she came slowly towards the +high altar. The individual to whom we have alluded seemed irresolute +whether to advance or retire. His hesitation lasted so long that the +maiden, straying through a happy reverie, had crossed the wide extent +of the pavement between the confessional and the altar, before he had +decided whether to meet her. At last, when within a pace or two, she +raised her eyes and recognized Kenyon. + +“It is you!” she exclaimed, with joyful surprise. “I am so happy.” + +In truth, the sculptor had never before seen, nor hardly imagined, such +a figure of peaceful beatitude as Hilda now presented. While coming +towards him in the solemn radiance which, at that period of the day, is +diffused through the transept, and showered down beneath the dome, she +seemed of the same substance as the atmosphere that enveloped her. He +could scarcely tell whether she was imbued with sunshine, or whether it +was a glow of happiness that shone out of her. + +At all events, it was a marvellous change from the sad girl, who had +entered the confessional bewildered with anguish, to this bright, yet +softened image of religious consolation that emerged from it. It was +as if one of the throng of angelic people, who might be hovering in the +sunny depths of the dome, had alighted on the pavement. Indeed, this +capability of transfiguration, which we often see wrought by inward +delight on persons far less capable of it than Hilda, suggests how +angels come by their beauty, it grows out of their happiness, and lasts +forever only because that is immortal. + +She held out her hand, and Kenyon was glad to take it in his own, if +only to assure himself that she was made of earthly material. + +“Yes, Hilda, I see that you are very happy,” he replied gloomily, and +withdrawing his hand after a single pressure. “For me, I never was less +so than at this moment.” + +“Has any misfortune befallen you?” asked Hilda with earnestness. “Pray +tell me, and you shall have my sympathy, though I must still be very +happy. Now I know how it is that the saints above are touched by the +sorrows of distressed people on earth, and yet are never made wretched +by them. Not that I profess to be a saint, you know,” she added, smiling +radiantly. “But the heart grows so large, and so rich, and so variously +endowed, when it has a great sense of bliss, that it can give smiles to +some, and tears to others, with equal sincerity, and enjoy its own peace +throughout all.” + +“Do not say you are no saint!” answered Kenyon with a smile, though he +felt that the tears stood in his eves. “You will still be Saint Hilda, +whatever church may canonize you.” + +“Ah! you would not have said so, had you seen me but an hour ago!” + murmured she. “I was so wretched, that there seemed a grievous sin in +it.” + +“And what has made you so suddenly happy?” inquired the sculptor. “But +first, Hilda, will you not tell me why you were so wretched?” + +“Had I met you yesterday, I might have told you that,” she replied. +“To-day, there is no need.” + +“Your happiness, then?” said the sculptor, as sadly as before. “Whence +comes it?” + +“A great burden has been lifted from my heart--from my conscience, I had +almost said,”--answered Hilda, without shunning the glance that he fixed +upon her. “I am a new creature, since this morning, Heaven be praised +for it! It was a blessed hour--a blessed impulse--that brought me +to this beautiful and glorious cathedral. I shall hold it in loving +remembrance while I live, as the spot where I found infinite peace after +infinite trouble.” + +Her heart seemed so full, that it spilt its new gush of happiness, as +it were, like rich and sunny wine out of an over-brimming goblet. Kenyon +saw that she was in one of those moods of elevated feeling, when the +soul is upheld by a strange tranquility, which is really more passionate +and less controllable than emotions far exceeding it in violence. He +felt that there would be indelicacy, if he ought not rather to call it +impiety, in his stealing upon Hilda, while she was thus beyond her +own guardianship, and surprising her out of secrets which she might +afterwards bitterly regret betraying to him. Therefore, though yearning +to know what had happened, he resolved to forbear further question. + +Simple and earnest people, however, being accustomed to speak from their +genuine impulses, cannot easily, as craftier men do, avoid the subject +which they have at heart. As often as the sculptor unclosed his lips, +such words as these were ready to burst out:--“Hilda, have you flung +your angelic purity into that mass of unspeakable corruption, the Roman +Church?” + +“What were you saying?” she asked, as Kenyon forced back an almost +uttered exclamation of this kind. + +“I was thinking of what you have just remarked about the cathedral,” + said he, looking up into the mighty hollow of the dome. “It is indeed +a magnificent structure, and an adequate expression of the Faith which +built it. When I behold it in a proper mood,--that is to say, when I +bring my mind into a fair relation with the minds and purposes of its +spiritual and material architects,--I see but one or two criticisms to +make. One is, that it needs painted windows.” + +“O, no!” said Hilda. “They would be quite inconsistent with so much +richness of color in the interior of the church. Besides, it is a Gothic +ornament, and only suited to that style of architecture, which requires +a gorgeous dimness.” + +“Nevertheless,” continued the sculptor, “yonder square apertures, +filled with ordinary panes of glass, are quite out of keeping with the +superabundant splendor of everything about them. They remind me of that +portion of Aladdin’s palace which he left unfinished, in order that +his royal father-in-law might put the finishing touch. Daylight, in its +natural state, ought not to be admitted here. It should stream through a +brilliant illusion of saints and hierarchies, and old scriptural images, +and symbolized dogmas, purple, blue, golden, and a broad flame of +scarlet. Then, it would be just such an illumination as the Catholic +faith allows to its believers. But, give me--to live and die in--the +pure, white light of heaven!” + +“Why do you look so sorrowfully at me?” asked Hilda, quietly meeting his +disturbed gaze. “What would you say to me? I love the white light too!” + +“I fancied so,” answered Kenyon. “Forgive me, Hilda; but I must needs +speak. You seemed to me a rare mixture of impressibility, sympathy, +sensitiveness to many influences, with a certain quality of common +sense;--no, not that, but a higher and finer attribute, for which I find +no better word. However tremulously you might vibrate, this quality, +I supposed, would always bring you back to the equipoise. You were a +creature of imagination, and yet as truly a New England girl as any with +whom you grew up in your native village. If there were one person in +the world whose native rectitude of thought, and something deeper, more +reliable, than thought, I would have trusted against all the arts of a +priesthood,--whose taste alone, so exquisite and sincere that it rose +to be a moral virtue, I would have rested upon as a sufficient +safeguard,--it was yourself!” + +“I am conscious of no such high and delicate qualities as you allow me,” + answered Hilda. “But what have I done that a girl of New England birth +and culture, with the right sense that her mother taught her, and the +conscience that she developed in her, should not do?” + +“Hilda, I saw you at the confessional!” said Kenyon. + +“Ah well, my dear friend,” replied Hilda, casting down her eyes, and +looking somewhat confused, yet not ashamed, “you must try to forgive me +for that,--if you deem it wrong, because it has saved my reason, and +made me very happy. Had you been here yesterday, I would have confessed +to you.” + +“Would to Heaven I had!” ejaculated Kenyon. + +“I think,” Hilda resumed, “I shall never go to the confessional again; +for there can scarcely come such a sore trial twice in my life. If I had +been a wiser girl, a stronger, and a more sensible, very likely I might +not have gone to the confessional at all. It was the sin of others that +drove me thither; not my own, though it almost seemed so. Being what +I am, I must either have done what you saw me doing, or have gone mad. +Would that have been better?” + +“Then you are not a Catholic?” asked the sculptor earnestly. + +“Really, I do not quite know what I am,” replied Hilda, encountering his +eyes with a frank and simple gaze. “I have a great deal of faith, and +Catholicism seems to have a great deal of good. Why should not I be a +Catholic, if I find there what I need, and what I cannot find elsewhere? +The more I see of this worship, the more I wonder at the exuberance with +which it adapts itself to all the demands of human infirmity. If its +ministers were but a little more than human, above all error, pure from +all iniquity, what a religion would it be!” + +“I need not fear your conversion to the Catholic faith,” remarked +Kenyon, “if you are at all aware of the bitter sarcasm implied in your +last observation. It is very just. Only the exceeding ingenuity of the +system stamps it as the contrivance of man, or some worse author; not an +emanation of the broad and simple wisdom from on high.” + +“It may be so,” said Hilda; “but I meant no sarcasm.” + +Thus conversing, the two friends went together down the grand extent +of the nave. Before leaving the church, they turned to admire again its +mighty breadth, the remoteness of the glory behind the altar, and the +effect of visionary splendor and magnificence imparted by the long bars +of smoky sunshine, which travelled so far before arriving at a place of +rest. + +“Thank Heaven for having brought me hither!” said Hilda fervently. + +Kenyon’s mind was deeply disturbed by his idea of her Catholic +propensities; and now what he deemed her disproportionate and misapplied +veneration for the sublime edifice stung him into irreverence. + +“The best thing I know of St. Peter’s,” observed he, “is its equable +temperature. We are now enjoying the coolness of last winter, which, a +few months hence, will be the warmth of the present summer. It has no +cure, I suspect, in all its length and breadth, for a sick soul, but +it would make an admirable atmospheric hospital for sick bodies. What +a delightful shelter would it be for the invalids who throng to Rome, +where the sirocco steals away their strength, and the tramontana stabs +them through and through, like cold steel with a poisoned point! But +within these walls, the thermometer never varies. Winter and summer are +married at the high altar, and dwell together in perfect harmony.” + +“Yes,” said Hilda; “and I have always felt this soft, unchanging climate +of St. Peter’s to be another manifestation of its sanctity.” + +“That is not precisely my idea,” replied Kenyon. “But what a delicious +life it would be, if a colony of people with delicate lungs or merely +with delicate fancies--could take up their abode in this ever-mild and +tranquil air. These architectural tombs of the popes might serve for +dwellings, and each brazen sepulchral doorway would become a domestic +threshold. Then the lover, if he dared, might say to his mistress, +‘Will you share my tomb with me?’ and, winning her soft consent, he +would lead her to the altar, and thence to yonder sepulchre of Pope +Gregory, which should be their nuptial home. What a life would be +theirs, Hilda, in their marble Eden!” + +“It is not kind, nor like yourself,” said Hilda gently, “to throw +ridicule on emotions which are genuine. I revere this glorious church +for itself and its purposes; and love it, moreover, because here I have +found sweet peace, after’ a great anguish.” + +“Forgive me,” answered the sculptor, “and I will do so no more. My heart +is not so irreverent as my words.” + +They went through the piazza of St. Peter’s and the adjacent streets, +silently at first; but, before reaching the bridge of St. Angelo, +Hilda’s flow of spirits began to bubble forth, like the gush of a +streamlet that has been shut up by frost, or by a heavy stone over its +source. Kenyon had never found her so delightful as now; so softened +out of the chillness of her virgin pride; so full of fresh thoughts, +at which he was often moved to smile, although, on turning them over +a little more, he sometimes discovered that they looked fanciful only +because so absolutely true. + +But, indeed, she was not quite in a normal state. Emerging from gloom +into sudden cheerfulness, the effect upon Hilda was as if she were +just now created. After long torpor, receiving back her intellectual +activity, she derived an exquisite pleasure from the use of her +faculties, which were set in motion by causes that seemed inadequate. +She continually brought to Kenyon’s mind the image of a child, making +its plaything of every object, but sporting in good faith, and with +a kind of seriousness. Looking up, for example, at the statue of St. +Michael, on the top of Hadrian’s castellated tomb, Hilda fancied an +interview between the Archangel and the old emperor’s ghost, who was +naturally displeased at finding his mausoleum, which he had ordained +for the stately and solemn repose of his ashes, converted to its present +purposes. + +“But St. Michael, no doubt,” she thoughtfully remarked, “would finally +convince the Emperor Hadrian that where a warlike despot is sown as the +seed, a fortress and a prison are the only possible crop.” + +They stopped on the bridge to look into the swift eddying flow of the +yellow Tiber, a mud puddle in strenuous motion; and Hilda wondered +whether the seven-branched golden candlestick,--the holy candlestick of +the Jews, which was lost at the Ponte Molle, in Constantine’s time, had +yet been swept as far down the river as this. + +“It probably stuck where it fell,” said the sculptor; “and, by this +time, is imbedded thirty feet deep in the mud of the Tiber. Nothing will +ever bring it to light again.” + +“I fancy you are mistaken,” replied Hilda, smiling. “There was a meaning +and purpose in each of its seven branches, and such a candlestick cannot +be lost forever. When it is found again, and seven lights are kindled +and burning in it, the whole world will gain the illumination which +it needs. Would not this be an admirable idea for a mystic story or +parable, or seven-branched allegory, full of poetry, art, philosophy, +and religion? It shall be called ‘The Recovery of the Sacred +Candlestick.’ As each branch is lighted, it shall have a differently +colored lustre from the other six; and when all the seven are kindled, +their radiance shall combine into the intense white light of truth.” + +“Positively, Hilda, this is a magnificent conception,” cried Kenyon. +“The more I look at it, the brighter it burns.” + +“I think so too,” said Hilda, enjoying a childlike pleasure in her own +idea. “The theme is better suited for verse than prose; and when I go +home to America, I will suggest it to one of our poets. Or seven poets +might write the poem together, each lighting a separate branch of the +Sacred Candlestick.” + +“Then you think of going home?” Kenyon asked. + +“Only yesterday,” she replied, “I longed to flee away. Now, all is +changed, and, being happy again, I should feel deep regret at leaving +the Pictorial Land. But I cannot tell. In Rome, there is something +dreary and awful, which we can never quite escape. At least, I thought +so yesterday.” + +When they reached the Via Portoghese, and approached Hilda’s tower, the +doves, who were waiting aloft, flung themselves upon the air, and came +floating down about her head. The girl caressed them, and responded to +their cooings with similar sounds from her own lips, and with words +of endearment; and their joyful flutterings and airy little flights, +evidently impelled by pure exuberance of spirits, seemed to show that +the doves had a real sympathy with their mistress’s state of mind. For +peace had descended upon her like a dove. + +Bidding the sculptor farewell, Hilda climbed her tower, and came forth +upon its summit to trim the Virgin’s lamp. The doves, well knowing her +custom, had flown up thither to meet her, and again hovered about her +head; and very lovely was her aspect, in the evening Sunlight, which had +little further to do with the world just then, save to fling a golden +glory on Hilda’s hair, and vanish. + +Turning her eyes down into the dusky street which she had just quitted, +Hilda saw the sculptor still there, and waved her hand to him. + +“How sad and dim he looks, down there in that dreary street!” she said +to herself. “Something weighs upon his spirits. Would I could comfort +him!” + +“How like a spirit she looks, aloft there, with the evening glory round +her head, and those winged creatures claiming her as akin to them!” + thought Kenyon, on his part. “How far above me! how unattainable! Ah, +if I could lift myself to her region! Or--if it be not a sin to wish +it--would that I might draw her down to an earthly fireside!” + +What a sweet reverence is that, when a young man deems his mistress a +little more than mortal, and almost chides himself for longing to bring +her close to his heart! A trifling circumstance, but such as lovers +make much of, gave him hope. One of the doves, which had been resting on +Hilda’s shoulder, suddenly flew downward, as if recognizing him as its +mistress’s dear friend; and, perhaps commissioned with an errand of +regard, brushed his upturned face with its wings, and again soared +aloft. + +The sculptor watched the bird’s return, and saw Hilda greet it with a +smile. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +SNOWDROPS AND MAIDENLY DELIGHTS + + +It being still considerably earlier than the period at which artists +and tourists are accustomed to assemble in Rome, the sculptor and Hilda +found themselves comparatively alone there. The dense mass of native +Roman life, in the midst of which they were, served to press them near +one another. It was as if they had been thrown together on a desert +island. Or they seemed to have wandered, by some strange chance, out +of the common world, and encountered each other in a depopulated city, +where there were streets of lonely palaces, and unreckonable treasures +of beautiful and admirable things, of which they two became the sole +inheritors. + +In such circumstances, Hilda’s gentle reserve must have been stronger +than her kindly disposition permitted, if the friendship between Kenyon +and herself had not grown as warm as a maiden’s friendship can ever be, +without absolutely and avowedly blooming into love. On the sculptor’s +side, the amaranthine flower was already in full blow. But it is very +beautiful, though the lover’s heart may grow chill at the perception, to +see how the snow will sometimes linger in a virgin’s breast, even after +the spring is well advanced. In such alpine soils, the summer will not +be anticipated; we seek vainly for passionate flowers, and blossoms +of fervid hue and spicy fragrance, finding only snowdrops and sunless +violets, when it is almost the full season for the crimson rose. + +With so much tenderness as Hilda had in her nature, it was strange that +she so reluctantly admitted the idea of love; especially as, in +the sculptor, she found both congeniality and variety of taste, and +likenesses and differences of character; these being as essential as +those to any poignancy of mutual emotion. + +So Hilda, as far as Kenyon could discern, still did not love him, though +she admitted him within the quiet circle of her affections as a dear +friend and trusty counsellor. If we knew what is best for us, or could +be content with what is reasonably good, the sculptor might well have +been satisfied, for a season, with this calm intimacy, which so sweetly +kept him a stranger in her heart, and a ceremonious guest; and yet +allowed him the free enjoyment of all but its deeper recesses. The +flowers that grow outside of those minor sanctities have a wild, hasty +charm, which it is well to prove; there may be sweeter ones within the +sacred precinct, but none that will die while you are handling them, and +bequeath you a delicious legacy, as these do, in the perception of their +evanescence and unreality. + +And this may be the reason, after all, why Hilda, like so many other +maidens, lingered on the hither side of passion; her finer instinct and +keener sensibility made her enjoy those pale delights in a degree of +which men are incapable. She hesitated to grasp a richer happiness, as +possessing already such measure of it as her heart could hold, and of a +quality most agreeable to her virgin tastes. + +Certainly, they both were very happy. Kenyon’s genius, unconsciously +wrought upon by Hilda’s influence, took a more delicate character than +heretofore. He modelled, among other things, a beautiful little statue +of maidenhood gathering a snowdrop. It was never put into marble, +however, because the sculptor soon recognized it as one of those fragile +creations which are true only to the moment that produces them, and +are wronged if we try to imprison their airy excellence in a permanent +material. + +On her part, Hilda returned to her customary Occupations with a fresh +love for them, and yet with a deeper look into the heart of things; such +as those necessarily acquire who have passed from picture galleries into +dungeon gloom, and thence come back to the picture gallery again. It is +questionable whether she was ever so perfect a copyist thenceforth. She +could not yield herself up to the painter so unreservedly as in times +past; her character had developed a sturdier quality, which made her +less pliable to the influence of other minds. She saw into the picture +as profoundly as ever, and perhaps more so, but not with the devout +sympathy that had formerly given her entire possession of the old +master’s idea. She had known such a reality, that it taught her to +distinguish inevitably the large portion that is unreal, in every work +of art. Instructed by sorrow, she felt that there is something beyond +almost all which pictorial genius has produced; and she never forgot +those sad wanderings from gallery to gallery, and from church to church, +where she had vainly sought a type of the Virgin Mother, or the Saviour, +or saint, or martyr, which a soul in extreme need might recognize as the +adequate one. + +How, indeed, should she have found such? How could holiness be revealed +to the artist of an age when the greatest of them put genius and +imagination in the place of spiritual insight, and when, from the pope +downward, all Christendom was corrupt? + +Meanwhile, months wore away, and Rome received back that large portion +of its life-blood which runs in the veins of its foreign and temporary +population. English visitors established themselves in the hotels, and +in all the sunny suites of apartments, in the streets convenient to +the Piazza di Spagna; the English tongue was heard familiarly along the +Corso, and English children sported in the Pincian Gardens. + +The native Romans, on the other hand, like the butterflies and +grasshoppers, resigned themselves to the short, sharp misery which +winter brings to a people whose arrangements are made almost exclusively +with a view to summer. Keeping no fire within-doors, except possibly a +spark or two in the kitchen, they crept out of their cheerless houses +into the narrow, sunless, sepulchral streets, bringing their firesides +along with them, in the shape of little earthen pots, vases, or pipkins, +full of lighted charcoal and warm ashes, over which they held their +tingling finger-ends. Even in this half-torpid wretchedness, they still +seemed to dread a pestilence in the sunshine, and kept on the shady side +of the piazzas, as scrupulously as in summer. Through the open doorways +w no need to shut them when the weather within was bleaker than +without--a glimpse into the interior of their dwellings showed the +uncarpeted brick floors, as dismal as the pavement of a tomb. + +They drew their old cloaks about them, nevertheless, and threw the +corners over their shoulders, with the dignity of attitude and action +that have come down to these modern citizens, as their sole inheritance +from the togated nation. Somehow or other, they managed to keep up their +poor, frost-bitten hearts against the pitiless atmosphere with a quiet +and uncomplaining endurance that really seems the most respectable point +in the present Roman character. For in New England, or in Russia, or +scarcely in a hut of the Esquimaux, there is no such discomfort to be +borne as by Romans in wintry weather, when the orange-trees bear icy +fruit in the gardens; and when the rims of all the fountains are shaggy +with icicles, and the Fountain of Trevi skimmed almost across with a +glassy surface; and when there is a slide in the piazza of St. Peter’s, +and a fringe of brown, frozen foam along the eastern shore of the Tiber, +and sometimes a fall of great snowflakes into the dreary lanes and +alleys of the miserable city. Cold blasts, that bring death with them, +now blow upon the shivering invalids, who came hither in the hope of +breathing balmy airs. + +Wherever we pass our summers, may all our inclement months, from +November to April, henceforth be spent in some country that recognizes +winter as an integral portion of its year! + +Now, too, there was especial discomfort in the stately picture +galleries, where nobody, indeed,--not the princely or priestly founders, +nor any who have inherited their cheerless magnificence,--ever dreamed +of such an impossibility as fireside warmth, since those great palaces +were built. Hilda, therefore, finding her fingers so much benumbed that +the spiritual influence could not be transmitted to them, was persuaded +to leave her easel before a picture, on one of these wintry days, and +pay a visit to Kenyon’s studio. But neither was the studio anything +better than a dismal den, with its marble shapes shivering around the +walls, cold as the snow images which the sculptor used to model in his +boyhood, and sadly behold them weep themselves away at the first thaw. + +Kenyon’s Roman artisans, all this while, had been at work on the +Cleopatra. The fierce Egyptian queen had now struggled almost out of the +imprisoning stone; or, rather, the workmen had found her within the mass +of marble, imprisoned there by magic, but still fervid to the touch +with fiery life, the fossil woman of an age that produced statelier, +stronger, and more passionate creatures than our own. You already felt +her compressed heat, and were aware of a tiger-like character even in +her repose. If Octavius should make his appearance, though the marble +still held her within its embrace, it was evident that she would tear +herself forth in a twinkling, either to spring enraged at his +throat, or, sinking into his arms, to make one more proof of her rich +blandishments, or, falling lowly at his feet, to try the efficacy of a +woman’s tears. + +“I am ashamed to tell you how much I admire this statue,” said Hilda. +“No other sculptor could have done it.” + +“This is very sweet for me to hear,” replied Kenyon; “and since your +reserve keeps you from saying more, I shall imagine you expressing +everything that an artist would wish to hear said about his work.” + +“You will not easily go beyond my genuine opinion,” answered Hilda, with +a smile. + +“Ah, your kind word makes me very happy,” said the sculptor, “and I +need it, just now, on behalf of my Cleopatra. That inevitable period has +come,--for I have found it inevitable, in regard to all my works,--when +I look at what I fancied to be a statue, lacking only breath to make it +live, and find it a mere lump of senseless stone, into which I have not +really succeeded in moulding the spiritual part of my idea. I should +like, now,--only it would be such shameful treatment for a discrowned +queen, and my own offspring too,--I should like to hit poor Cleopatra a +bitter blow on her Egyptian nose with this mallet.” + +“That is a blow which all statues seem doomed to receive, sooner or +later, though seldom from the hand that sculptured them,” said Hilda, +laughing. “But you must not let yourself be too much disheartened by +the decay of your faith in what you produce. I have heard a poet express +similar distaste for his own most exquisite poem, and I am afraid that +this final despair, and sense of short-coming, must always be the reward +and punishment of those who try to grapple with a great or beautiful +idea. It only proves that you have been able to imagine things too high +for mortal faculties to execute. The idea leaves you an imperfect image +of itself, which you at first mistake for the ethereal reality, but soon +find that the latter has escaped out of your closest embrace.” + +“And the only consolation is,” remarked Kenyon, “that the blurred and +imperfect image may still make a very respectable appearance in the eyes +of those who have not seen the original.” + +“More than that,” rejoined Hilda; “for there is a class of spectators +whose sympathy will help them to see the perfect through a mist of +imperfection. Nobody, I think, ought to read poetry, or look at pictures +or statues, who cannot find a great deal more in them than the poet or +artist has actually expressed. Their highest merit is suggestiveness.” + +“You, Hilda, are yourself the only critic in whom I have much faith,” + said Kenyon. “Had you condemned Cleopatra, nothing should have saved +her.” + +“You invest me with such an awful responsibility,” she replied, “that I +shall not dare to say a single word about your other works.” + +“At least,” said the sculptor, “tell me whether you recognize this +bust?” + +He pointed to a bust of Donatello. It was not the one which Kenyon had +begun to model at Monte Beni, but a reminiscence of the Count’s face, +wrought under the influence of all the sculptor’s knowledge of his +history, and of his personal and hereditary character. It stood on a +wooden pedestal, not nearly finished, but with fine white dust and small +chips of marble scattered about it, and itself incrusted all round with +the white, shapeless substance of the block. In the midst appeared +the features, lacking sharpness, and very much resembling a fossil +countenance,--but we have already used this simile, in reference to +Cleopatra, with the accumulations of long-past ages clinging to it. + +And yet, strange to say, the face had an expression, and a more +recognizable one than Kenyon had succeeded in putting into the +clay model at Monte Beni. The reader is probably acquainted with +Thorwaldsen’s three-fold analogy,--the clay model, the Life; the plaster +cast, the Death; and the sculptured marble, the Resurrection,--and +it seemed to be made good by the spirit that was kindling up these +imperfect features, like a lambent flame. + +“I was not quite sure, at first glance, that I knew the face,” observed +Hilda; “the likeness surely is not a striking one. There is a good +deal of external resemblance, still, to the features of the Faun of +Praxiteles, between whom and Donatello, you know, we once insisted that +there was a perfect twin-brotherhood. But the expression is now so very +different!” + +“What do you take it to be?” asked the sculptor. + +“I hardly know how to define it,” she answered. “But it has an effect +as if I could see this countenance gradually brightening while I look +at it. It gives the impression of a growing intellectual power and +moral sense. Donatello’s face used to evince little more than a genial, +pleasurable sort of vivacity, and capability of enjoyment. But here, a +soul is being breathed into him; it is the Faun, but advancing towards a +state of higher development.” + +“Hilda, do you see all this?” exclaimed Kenyon, in considerable +surprise. “I may have had such an idea in my mind, but was quite unaware +that I had succeeded in conveying it into the marble.” + +“Forgive me,” said Hilda, “but I question whether this striking effect +has been brought about by any skill or purpose on the sculptor’s part. +Is it not, perhaps, the chance result of the bust being just so far +shaped out, in the marble, as the process of moral growth had advanced +in the original? A few more strokes of the chisel might change the whole +expression, and so spoil it for what it is now worth.” + +“I believe you are right,” answered Kenyon, thoughtfully examining his +work; “and, strangely enough, it was the very expression that I tried +unsuccessfully to produce in the clay model. Well; not another chip +shall be struck from the marble.” + +And, accordingly, Donatello’s bust (like that rude, rough mass of the +head of Brutus, by Michael Angelo, at Florence) has ever since remained +in an unfinished state. Most spectators mistake it for an unsuccessful +attempt towards copying the features of the Faun of Praxiteles. One +observer in a thousand is conscious of something more, and lingers long +over this mysterious face, departing from it reluctantly, and with many +a glance thrown backward. What perplexes him is the riddle that he sees +propounded there; the riddle of the soul’s growth, taking its first +impulse amid remorse and pain, and struggling through the incrustations +of the senses. It was the contemplation of this imperfect portrait of +Donatello that originally interested us in his history, and impelled us +to elicit from Kenyon what he knew of his friend’s adventures. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +REMINISCENCES OF MIRIAM + + +When Hilda and himself turned away from the unfinished bust, the +sculptor’s mind still dwelt upon the reminiscences which it suggested. +“You have not seen Donatello recently,” he remarked, “and therefore +cannot be aware how sadly he is changed.” + +“No wonder!” exclaimed Hilda, growing pale. + +The terrible scene which she had witnessed, when Donatello’s face +gleamed out in so fierce a light, came back upon her memory, almost +for the first time since she knelt at the confessional. Hilda, as is +sometimes the case with persons whose delicate organization requires +a peculiar safeguard, had an elastic faculty of throwing off such +recollections as would be too painful for endurance. The first shock +of Donatello’s and Miriam’s crime had, indeed, broken through the frail +defence of this voluntary forgetfulness; but, once enabled to relieve +herself of the ponderous anguish over which she had so long brooded, she +had practised a subtile watchfulness in preventing its return. + +“No wonder, do you say?” repeated the sculptor, looking at her with +interest, but not exactly with surprise; for he had long suspected that +Hilda had a painful knowledge of events which he himself little more +than surmised. “Then you know!--you have heard! But what can you +possibly have heard, and through what channel?” + +“Nothing!” replied Hilda faintly. “Not one word has reached my ears from +the lips of any human being. Let us never speak of it again! No, no! +never again!” + +“And Miriam!” said Kenyon, with irrepressible interest. “Is it also +forbidden to speak of her?” + +“Hush! do not even utter her name! Try not to think of it!” Hilda +whispered. “It may bring terrible consequences!” + +“My dear Hilda!” exclaimed Kenyon, regarding her with wonder and deep +sympathy. “My sweet friend, have you had this secret hidden in your +delicate, maidenly heart, through all these many months! No wonder that +your life was withering out of you.” + +“It was so, indeed!” said Hilda, shuddering. “Even now, I sicken at the +recollection.” + +“And how could it have come to your knowledge?” continued the sculptor. +“But no matter! Do not torture yourself with referring to the subject. +Only, if at any time it should be a relief to you, remember that we can +speak freely together, for Miriam has herself suggested a confidence +between us.” + +“Miriam has suggested this!” exclaimed Hilda. “Yes, I remember, now, her +advising that the secret should be shared with you. But I have +survived the death struggle that it cost me, and need make no further +revelations. And Miriam has spoken to you! What manner of woman can +she be, who, after sharing in such a deed, can make it a topic of +conversation with her friends?” + +“Ah, Hilda,” replied Kenyon, “you do not know, for you could never +learn it from your own heart, which is all purity and rectitude, what +a mixture of good there may be in things evil; and how the greatest +criminal, if you look at his conduct from his own point of view, or from +any side point, may seem not so unquestionably guilty, after all. So +with Miriam; so with Donatello. They are, perhaps, partners in what we +must call awful guilt; and yet, I will own to you,--when I think of the +original cause, the motives, the feelings, the sudden concurrence of +circumstances thrusting them onward, the urgency of the moment, and +the sublime unselfishness on either part,--I know not well how to +distinguish it from much that the world calls heroism. Might we not +render some such verdict as this?--‘Worthy of Death, but not unworthy of +Love! ’” + +“Never!” answered Hilda, looking at the matter through the clear crystal +medium of her own integrity. “This thing, as regards its causes, is all +a mystery to me, and must remain so. But there is, I believe, only one +right and one wrong; and I do not understand, and may God keep me from +ever understanding, how two things so totally unlike can be mistaken for +one another; nor how two mortal foes, as Right and Wrong surely are, can +work together in the same deed. This is my faith; and I should be led +astray, if you could persuade me to give it up.” + +“Alas for poor human nature, then!” said Kenyon sadly, and yet half +smiling at Hilda’s unworldly and impracticable theory. “I always felt +you, my dear friend, a terribly severe judge, and have been perplexed to +conceive how such tender sympathy could coexist with the remorselessness +of a steel blade. You need no mercy, and therefore know not how to show +any.” + +“That sounds like a bitter gibe,” said Hilda, with the tears springing +into her eyes. “But I cannot help it. It does not alter my perception of +the truth. If there be any such dreadful mixture of good and evil as +you affirm,--and which appears to me almost more shocking than +pure evil,--then the good is turned to poison, not the evil to +wholesomeness.” + +The sculptor seemed disposed to say something more, but yielded to the +gentle steadfastness with which Hilda declined to listen. She grew very +sad; for a reference to this one dismal topic had set, as it were, a +prison door ajar, and allowed a throng of torturing recollections to +escape from their dungeons into the pure air and white radiance of +her soul. She bade Kenyon a briefer farewell than ordinary, and went +homeward to her tower. + +In spite of her efforts to withdraw them to other subjects, her thoughts +dwelt upon Miriam; and, as had not heretofore happened, they brought +with them a painful doubt whether a wrong had not been committed on +Hilda’s part, towards the friend once so beloved. Something that Miriam +had said, in their final conversation, recurred to her memory, and +seemed now to deserve more weight than Hilda had assigned to it, in her +horror at the crime just perpetrated. It was not that the deed looked +less wicked and terrible in the retrospect; but she asked herself +whether there were not other questions to be considered, aside from that +single one of Miriam’s guilt or innocence; as, for example, whether a +close bond of friendship, in which we once voluntarily engage, ought to +be severed on account of any unworthiness, which we subsequently detect +in our friend. For, in these unions of hearts,--call them marriage, +or whatever else,--we take each other for better for worse. Availing +ourselves of our friend’s intimate affection, we pledge our own, as +to be relied upon in every emergency. And what sadder, more desperate +emergency could there be, than had befallen Miriam? Who more need the +tender succor of the innocent, than wretches stained with guilt! And +must a selfish care for the spotlessness of our own garments keep us +from pressing the guilty ones close to our hearts, wherein, for the very +reason that we are innocent, lies their securest refuge from further +ill? + +It was a sad thing for Hilda to find this moral enigma propounded to her +conscience; and to feel that, whichever way she might settle it, there +would be a cry of wrong on the other side. Still, the idea stubbornly +came back, that the tie between Miriam and herself had been real, the +affection true, and that therefore the implied compact was not to be +shaken off. + +“Miriam loved me well,” thought Hilda remorsefully, “and I failed her at +her sorest need.” + +Miriam loved her well; and not less ardent had been the affection which +Miriam’s warm, tender, and generous characteristics had excited in +Hilda’s more reserved and quiet nature. It had never been extinguished; +for, in part, the wretchedness which Hilda had since endured was but +the struggle and writhing of her sensibility, still yearning towards +her friend. And now, at the earliest encouragement, it awoke again, and +cried out piteously, complaining of the violence that had been done it. + +Recurring to the delinquencies of which she fancied (we say “fancied,” + because we do not unhesitatingly adopt Hilda’s present view, but rather +suppose her misled by her feelings)--of which she fancied herself guilty +towards her friend, she suddenly remembered a sealed packet that +Miriam had confided to her. It had been put into her hands with earnest +injunctions of secrecy and care, and if unclaimed after a certain +period, was to be delivered according to its address. Hilda had +forgotten it; or, rather, she had kept the thought of this commission in +the background of her consciousness, with all other thoughts referring +to Miriam. + +But now the recollection of this packet, and the evident stress which +Miriam laid upon its delivery at the specified time, impelled Hilda to +hurry up the staircase of her tower, dreading lest the period should +already have elapsed. + +No; the hour had not gone by, but was on the very point of passing. +Hilda read the brief note of instruction, on a corner of the envelope, +and discovered, that, in case of Miriam’s absence from Rome, the packet +was to be taken to its destination that very day. + +“How nearly I had violated my promise!” said Hilda. “And, since we are +separated forever, it has the sacredness of an injunction from a dead +friend. There is no time to be lost.” + +So Hilda set forth in the decline of the afternoon, and pursued her way +towards the quarter of the city in which stands the Palazzo Cenci. Her +habit of self-reliance was so simply strong, so natural, and now so well +established by long use, that the idea of peril seldom or never occurred +to Hilda, in her lonely life. + +She differed, in this particular, from the generality of her sex, +--although the customs and character of her native land often produce +women who meet the world with gentle fearlessness, and discover that its +terrors have been absurdly exaggerated by the tradition of mankind. In +ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the apprehensiveness of women is +quite gratuitous. Even as matters now stand, they are really safer in +perilous situations and emergencies than men; and might be still more +so, if they trusted themselves more confidingly to the chivalry of +manhood. In all her wanderings about Rome, Hilda had gone and returned +as securely as she had been accustomed to tread the familiar street of +her New England village, where every face wore a look of recognition. +With respect to whatever was evil, foul, and ugly, in this populous and +corrupt city, she trod as if invisible, and not only so, but blind. She +was altogether unconscious of anything wicked that went along the same +pathway, but without jostling or impeding her, any more than gross +substance hinders the wanderings of a spirit. Thus it is, that, bad as +the world is said to have grown, innocence continues to make a paradise +around itself, and keep it still unfallen. + +Hilda’s present expedition led her into what was--physically, at +least--the foulest and ugliest part of Rome. In that vicinity lies the +Ghetto, where thousands of Jews are crowded within a narrow compass, +and lead a close, unclean, and multitudinous life, resembling that of +maggots when they over-populate a decaying cheese. + +Hilda passed on the borders of this region, but had no occasion to +step within it. Its neighborhood, however, naturally partook of +characteristics ‘like its own. There was a confusion of black and +hideous houses, piled massively out of the ruins of former ages; rude +and destitute of plan, as a pauper would build his hovel, and yet +displaying here and there an arched gateway, a cornice, a pillar, or +a broken arcade, that might have adorned a palace. Many of the houses, +indeed, as they stood, might once have been palaces, and possessed still +a squalid kind of grandeur. Dirt was everywhere, strewing the narrow +streets, and incrusting the tall shabbiness of the edifices, from the +foundations to the roofs; it lay upon the thresholds, and looked out of +the windows, and assumed the guise of human life in the children that +Seemed to be engendered out of it. Their father was the sun, and their +mother--a heap of Roman mud. + +It is a question of speculative interest, whether the ancient Romans +were as unclean a people as we everywhere find those who have succeeded +them. There appears to be a kind of malignant spell in the spots that +have been inhabited by these masters of the world, or made famous in +their history; an inherited and inalienable curse, impelling their +successors to fling dirt and defilement upon whatever temple, column, +mined palace, or triumphal arch may be nearest at hand, and on every +monument that the old Romans built. It is most probably a classic trait, +regularly transmitted downward, and perhaps a little modified by the +better civilization of Christianity; so that Caesar may have trod +narrower and filthier ways in his path to the Capitol, than even those +of modern Rome. + +As the paternal abode of Beatrice, the gloomy old palace of the Cencis +had an interest for Hilda, although not sufficiently strong, hitherto, +to overcome the disheartening effect of the exterior, and draw her over +its threshold. The adjacent piazza, of poor aspect, contained only an +old woman selling roasted chestnuts and baked squash-seeds; she looked +sharply at Hilda, and inquired whether she had lost her way. + + +“No,” said Hilda; “I seek the Palazzo Cenci.” + +“Yonder it is, fair signorina,” replied the Roman matron. “If you wish +that packet delivered, which I see in your hand, my grandson Pietro +shall run with it for a baiocco. The Cenci palace is a spot of ill omen +for young maidens.” + +Hilda thanked the old dame, but alleged the necessity of doing her +errand in person. She approached the front of the palace, which, with +all its immensity, had but a mean appearance, and seemed an abode which +the lovely shade of Beatrice would not be apt to haunt, unless her doom +made it inevitable. Some soldiers stood about the portal, and gazed at +the brown-haired, fair-cheeked Anglo-Saxon girl, with approving glances, +but not indecorously. Hilda began to ascend the staircase, three lofty +flights of which were to be surmounted, before reaching the door whither +she was bound. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + + +THE EXTINCTION OF A LAMP + +Between Hilda and the sculptor there had been a kind of half-expressed +understanding, that both were to visit the galleries of the Vatican +the day subsequent to their meeting at the studio. Kenyon, accordingly, +failed not to be there, and wandered through the vast ranges of +apartments, but saw nothing of his expected friend. The marble faces, +which stand innumerable along the walls, and have kept themselves so +calm through the vicissitudes of twenty centuries, had no sympathy +for his disappointment; and he, on the other hand, strode past these +treasures and marvels of antique art, with the indifference which any +preoccupation of the feelings is apt to produce, in reference to objects +of sculpture. Being of so cold and pure a substance, and mostly deriving +their vitality more from thought than passion, they require to be seen +through a perfectly transparent medium. + +And, moreover, Kenyon had counted so much upon Hilda’s delicate +perceptions in enabling him to look at two or three of the statues, +about which they had talked together, that the entire purpose of his +visit was defeated by her absence. It is a delicious sort of mutual aid, +when the united power of two sympathetic, yet dissimilar, intelligences +is brought to bear upon a poem by reading it aloud, or upon a picture +or statue by viewing it in each other’s company. Even if not a word +of criticism be uttered, the insight of either party is wonderfully +deepened, and the comprehension broadened; so that the inner mystery +of a work of genius, hidden from one, will often reveal itself to two. +Missing such help, Kenyon saw nothing at the Vatican which he had not +seen a thousand times before, and more perfectly than now. + +In the chili of his disappointment, he suspected that it was a very +cold art to which he had devoted himself. He questioned, at that moment, +whether sculpture really ever softens and warms the material which it +handles; whether carved marble is anything but limestone, after all; +and whether the Apollo Belvedere itself possesses any merit above +its physical beauty, or is beyond criticism even in that generally +acknowledged excellence. In flitting glances, heretofore, he had seemed +to behold this statue, as something ethereal and godlike, but not now. + +Nothing pleased him, unless it were the group of the Laocoon, which, +in its immortal agony, impressed Kenyon as a type of the long, fierce +struggle of man, involved in the knotted entanglements of Error and +Evil, those two snakes, which, if no divine help intervene, will be sure +to strangle him and his children in the end. What he most admired was +the strange calmness diffused through this bitter strife; so that it +resembled the rage of the sea made calm by its immensity,’ or the tumult +of Niagara which ceases to be tumult because it lasts forever. Thus, in +the Laocoon, the horror of a moment grew to be the fate of interminable +ages. Kenyon looked upon the group as the one triumph of sculpture, +creating the repose, which is essential to it, in the very acme of +turbulent effort; but, in truth, it was his mood of unwonted despondency +that made him so sensitive to the terrible magnificence, as well as to +the sad moral, of this work. Hilda herself could not have helped him to +see it with nearly such intelligence. + +A good deal more depressed than the nature of the disappointment +warranted, Kenyon went to his studio, and took in hand a great lump of +clay. He soon found, however, that his plastic cunning had departed from +him for the time. So he wandered forth again into the uneasy streets +of Rome, and walked up and down the Corso, where, at that period of the +day, a throng of passers-by and loiterers choked up the narrow sidewalk. +A penitent was thus brought in contact with the sculptor. + +It was a figure in a white robe, with a kind of featureless mask +over the face, through the apertures of which the eyes threw an +unintelligible light. Such odd, questionable shapes are often seen +gliding through the streets of Italian cities, and are understood to be +usually persons of rank, who quit their palaces, their gayeties, their +pomp and pride, and assume the penitential garb for a season, with a +view of thus expiating some crime, or atoning for the aggregate of petty +sins that make up a worldly life. It is their custom to ask alms, and +perhaps to measure the duration of their penance by the time requisite +to accumulate a sum of money out of the little droppings of individual +charity. The avails are devoted to some beneficent or religious purpose; +so that the benefit accruing to their own souls is, in a manner, linked +with a good done, or intended, to their fellow-men. These figures have +a ghastly and startling effect, not so much from any very impressive +peculiarity in the garb, as from the mystery which they bear about with +them, and the sense that there is an acknowledged sinfulness as the +nucleus of it. + +In the present instance, however, the penitent asked no alms of Kenyon; +although, for the space of a minute or two, they stood face to face, the +hollow eyes of the mask encountering the sculptor’s gaze. But, just as +the crowd was about to separate them, the former spoke, in a voice not +unfamiliar to Kenyon, though rendered remote and strange by the guilty +veil through which it penetrated. + +“Is all well with you, Signore?” inquired the penitent, out of the cloud +in which he walked. + +“All is well,” answered Kenyon. “And with you?” + +But the masked penitent returned no answer, being borne away by the +pressure of the throng. + +The sculptor stood watching the figure, and was almost of a mind to +hurry after him and follow up the conversation that had been begun; but +it occurred to him that there is a sanctity (or, as we might rather term +it, an inviolable etiquette) which prohibits the recognition of persons +who choose to walk under the veil of penitence. + +“How strange!” thought Kenyon to himself. “It was surely Donatello! What +can bring him to Rome, where his recollections must be so painful, and +his presence not without peril? And Miriam! Can she have accompanied +him?” + +He walked on, thinking of the vast change in Donatello, since those days +of gayety and innocence, when the young Italian was new in Rome, and was +just beginning to be sensible of a more poignant felicity than he had +yet experienced, in the sunny warmth of Miriam’s smile. The growth of +a soul, which the sculptor half imagined that he had witnessed in his +friend, seemed hardly worth the heavy price that it had cost, in the +sacrifice of those simple enjoyments that were gone forever. A creature +of antique healthfulness had vanished from the earth; and, in his stead, +there was only one other morbid and remorseful man, among millions that +were cast in the same indistinguishable mould. + +The accident of thus meeting Donatello the glad Faun of his imagination +and memory, now transformed into a gloomy penitent--contributed to +deepen the cloud that had fallen over Kenyon’s spirits. It caused him +to fancy, as we generally do, in the petty troubles which extend not a +hand’s-breadth beyond our own sphere, that the whole world was saddening +around him. It took the sinister aspect of an omen, although he could +not distinctly see what trouble it might forebode. + +If it had not been for a peculiar sort of pique, with which lovers are +much conversant, a preposterous kind of resentment which endeavors to +wreak itself on the beloved object, and on one’s own heart, in requital +of mishaps for which neither are in fault, Kenyon might at once have +betaken himself to Hilda’s studio, and asked why the appointment was not +kept. But the interview of to-day was to have been so rich in present +joy, and its results so important to his future life, that the bleak +failure was too much for his equanimity. He was angry with poor Hilda, +and censured her without a hearing; angry with himself, too, and +therefore inflicted on this latter criminal the severest penalty in +his power; angry with the day that was passing over him, and would not +permit its latter hours to redeem the disappointment of the morning. + +To confess the truth, it had been the sculptor’s purpose to stake all +his hopes on that interview in the galleries of the Vatican. Straying +with Hilda through those long vistas of ideal beauty, he meant, at last, +to utter himself upon that theme which lovers are fain to discuss in +village lanes, in wood paths, on seaside sands, in crowded streets; it +little matters where, indeed, since roses are sure to blush along the +way, and daisies and violets to spring beneath the feet, if the spoken +word be graciously received. He was resolved to make proof whether +the kindness that Hilda evinced for him was the precious token of an +individual preference, or merely the sweet fragrance of her disposition, +which other friends might share as largely as himself. He would try if +it were possible to take this shy, yet frank, and innocently fearless +creature captive, and imprison her in his heart, and make her sensible +of a wider freedom there, than in all the world besides. + +It was hard, we must allow, to see the shadow of a wintry sunset falling +upon a day that was to have been so bright, and to find himself just +where yesterday had left him, only with a sense of being drearily +balked, and defeated without an opportunity for struggle. So much had +been anticipated from these now vanished hours, that it seemed as if no +other day could bring back the same golden hopes. + +In a case like this, it is doubtful whether Kenyon could have done a +much better thing than he actually did, by going to dine at the Cafe +Nuovo, and drinking a flask of Montefiascone; longing, the while, for a +beaker or two of Donatello’s Sunshine. It would have been just the wine +to cure a lover’s melancholy, by illuminating his heart with tender +light and warmth, and suggestions of undefined hopes, too ethereal for +his morbid humor to examine and reject them. + +No decided improvement resulting from the draught of Montefiascone, he +went to the Teatro Argentino, and sat gloomily to see an Italian +comedy, which ought to have cheered him somewhat, being full of glancing +merriment, and effective over everybody’s disabilities except his own. +The sculptor came out, however, before the close of the performance, as +disconsolate as he went in. + +As he made his way through the complication of narrow streets, which +perplex that portion of the city, a carriage passed him. It was driven +rapidly, but not too fast for the light of a gas-lamp to flare upon a +face within--especially as it was bent forward, appearing to recognize +him, while a beckoning hand was protruded from the window. On his part, +Kenyon at once knew the face, and hastened to the carriage, which had +now stopped. + +“Miriam! you in Rome?” he exclaimed “And your friends know nothing of +it?” + +“Is all well with you?” she asked. + +This inquiry, in the identical words which Donatello had so recently +addressed to him from beneath the penitent’s mask, startled the +sculptor. Either the previous disquietude of his mind, or some tone in +Miriam’s voice, or the unaccountableness of beholding her there at all, +made it seem ominous. + +“All is well, I believe,” answered he doubtfully. “I am aware of no +misfortune. Have you any to announce’?” + +He looked still more earnestly at Miriam, and felt a dreamy uncertainty +whether it was really herself to whom he spoke. True; there were those +beautiful features, the contour of which he had studied too often, and +with a sculptor’s accuracy of perception, to be in any doubt that it was +Miriam’s identical face. But he was conscious of a change, the nature of +which he could not satisfactorily define; it might be merely her dress, +which, imperfect as the light was, he saw to be richer than the simple +garb that she had usually worn. The effect, he fancied, was partly owing +to a gem which she had on her bosom; not a diamond, but something that +glimmered with a clear, red lustre, like the stars in a southern sky. +Somehow or other, this colored light seemed an emanation of herself, +as if all that was passionate and glowing in her native disposition +had crystallized upon her breast, and were just now scintillating more +brilliantly than ever, in sympathy with some emotion of her heart. + +Of course there could be no real doubt that it was Miriam, his artist +friend, with whom and Hilda he had spent so many pleasant and familiar +hours, and whom he had last seen at Perugia, bending with Donatello +beneath the bronze pope’s benediction. It must be that selfsame Miriam; +but the sensitive sculptor felt a difference of manner, which impressed +him more than he conceived it possible to be affected by so external a +thing. He remembered the gossip so prevalent in Rome on Miriam’s first +appearance; how that she was no real artist, but the daughter of an +illustrious or golden lineage, who was merely playing at necessity; +mingling with human struggle for her pastime; stepping out of her native +sphere only for an interlude, just as a princess might alight from her +gilded equipage to go on foot through a rustic lane. And now, after a +mask in which love and death had performed their several parts, she had +resumed her proper character. + +“Have you anything to tell me?” cried he impatiently; for nothing causes +a more disagreeable vibration of the nerves than this perception of +ambiguousness in familiar persons or affairs. “Speak; for my spirits and +patience have been much tried to-day.” + +Miriam put her finger on her lips, and seemed desirous that Kenyon +should know of the presence of a third person. He now saw, indeed, that, +there was some one beside her in the carriage, hitherto concealed by +her attitude; a man, it appeared, with a sallow Italian face, which the +sculptor distinguished but imperfectly, and did not recognize. + +“I can tell you nothing,” she replied; and leaning towards him, she +whispered,--appearing then more like the Miriam whom he knew than in +what had before passed,--“Only, when the lamp goes out do not despair.” + +The carriage drove on, leaving Kenyon to muse over this unsatisfactory +interview, which seemed to have served no better purpose than to fill +his mind with more ominous forebodings than before. Why were Donatello +and Miriam in Rome, where both, in all likelihood, might have much to +dread? And why had one and the other addressed him with a question that +seemed prompted by a knowledge of some calamity, either already fallen +on his unconscious head, or impending closely over him? + +“I am sluggish,” muttered Kenyon, to himself; “a weak, nerveless fool, +devoid of energy and promptitude; or neither Donatello nor Miriam could +have escaped me thus! They are aware of some misfortune that concerns me +deeply. How soon am I to know it too?” + +There seemed but a single calamity possible to happen within so narrow +a sphere as that with which the sculptor was connected; and even to that +one mode of evil he could assign no definite shape, but only felt that +it must have some reference to Hilda. + +Flinging aside the morbid hesitation, and the dallyings with his own +wishes, which he had permitted to influence his mind throughout the day, +he now hastened to the Via Portoghese. Soon the old palace stood before +him, with its massive tower rising into the clouded night; obscured from +view at its midmost elevation, but revealed again, higher upward, by +the Virgin’s lamp that twinkled on the summit. Feeble as it was, in +the broad, surrounding gloom, that little ray made no inconsiderable +illumination among Kenyon’s sombre thoughts; for; remembering Miriam’s +last words, a fantasy had seized him that he should find the sacred lamp +extinguished. + +And even while he stood gazing, as a mariner at the star in which he put +his trust, the light quivered, sank, gleamed up again, and finally went +out, leaving the battlements of Hilda’s tower in utter darkness. For the +first time in centuries, the consecrated and legendary flame before the +loftiest shrine in Rome had ceased to burn. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + + +THE DESERTED SHRINE + + +Kenyon knew the sanctity which Hilda (faithful Protestant, and daughter +of the Puritans, as the girl was) imputed to this shrine. He was aware +of the profound feeling of responsibility, as well earthly as religious, +with which her conscience had been impressed, when she became the +occupant of her aerial chamber, and undertook the task of keeping the +consecrated lamp alight. There was an accuracy and a certainty about +Hilda’s movements, as regarded all matters that lay deep enough to have +their roots in right or wrong, which made it as possible and safe to +rely upon the timely and careful trimming of this lamp (if she were in +life, and able to creep up the steps), as upon the rising of to-morrow’s +sun, with lustre-undiminished from to-day. + +The sculptor could scarcely believe his eyes, therefore, when he saw the +flame flicker and expire. His sight had surely deceived him. And now, +since the light did not reappear, there must be some smoke wreath +or impenetrable mist brooding about the tower’s gray old head, and +obscuring it from the lower world. But no! For right over the dim +battlements, as the wind chased away a mass of clouds, he beheld a star, +and moreover, by an earnest concentration of his sight, was soon able to +discern even the darkened shrine itself. There was no obscurity around +the tower; no infirmity of his own vision. The flame had exhausted its +supply of oil, and become extinct. But where was Hilda? + +A man in a cloak happened to be passing; and Kenyon--anxious to distrust +the testimony of his senses, if he could get more acceptable evidence on +the other side--appealed to him. + +“Do me the favor, Signore,” said he, “to look at the top of yonder +tower, and tell me whether you see the lamp burning at the Virgin’s +shrine.” + +“The lamp, Signore?” answered the man, without at first troubling +himself to look up. “The lamp that has burned these four hundred years! +How is it possible, Signore, that it should not be burning now?” “But +look!” said the sculptor impatiently. With good-natured indulgence for +what he seemed to consider as the whim of an eccentric Forestiero, the +Italian carelessly threw his eyes upwards; but, as soon as he perceived +that there was really no light, he lifted his hands with a vivid +expression of wonder and alarm. + +“The lamp is extinguished!” cried he. “The lamp that has been +burning these four hundred years! This surely must portend some great +misfortune; and, by my advice, Signore, you will hasten hence, lest the +tower tumble on our heads. A priest once told me that, if the Virgin +withdrew her blessing and the light went out, the old Palazzo del Torte +would sink into the earth, with all that dwell in it. There will be a +terrible crash before morning!” + +The stranger made the best of his way from the doomed premises; while +Kenyon--who would willingly have seen the tower crumble down before his +eyes, on condition of Hilda’s safety--determined, late as it was, to +attempt ascertaining if she were in her dove-cote. + +Passing through the arched entrance,--which, as is often the case with +Roman entrances, was as accessible at midnight as at noon,--he groped +his way to the broad staircase, and, lighting his wax taper, went +glimmering up the multitude of steps that led to Hilda’s door. The hour +being so unseasonable, he intended merely to knock, and, as soon as +her voice from within should reassure him, to retire, keeping his +explanations and apologies for a fitter time. Accordingly, reaching the +lofty height where the maiden, as he trusted, lay asleep, with angels +watching over her, though the Virgin seemed to have suspended her care, +he tapped lightly at the door panels,--then knocked more forcibly,--then +thundered an impatient summons. No answer came; Hilda, evidently, was +not there. + +After assuring himself that this must be the fact, Kenyon descended the +stairs, but made a pause at every successive stage, and knocked at the +door of its apartment, regardless whose slumbers he might disturb, in +his anxiety to learn where the girl had last been seen. But, at each +closed entrance, there came those hollow echoes, which a chamber, or any +dwelling, great or small, never sends out, in response to human knuckles +or iron hammer, as long as there is life within to keep its heart from +getting dreary. + +Once indeed, on the lower landing-place, the sculptor fancied that there +was a momentary stir inside the door, as if somebody were listening at +the threshold. He hoped, at least, that the small iron-barred aperture +would be unclosed, through which Roman housekeepers are wont to take +careful cognizance of applicants for admission, from a traditionary +dread, perhaps, of letting in a robber or assassin. But it remained +shut; neither was the sound repeated; and Kenyon concluded that his +excited nerves had played a trick upon his senses, as they are apt to do +when we most wish for the clear evidence of the latter. + +There was nothing to be done, save to go heavily away, and await +whatever good or ill to-morrow’s daylight might disclose. + +Betimes in the morning, therefore, Kenyon went back to the Via +Portoghese, before the slant rays of the sun had descended halfway down +the gray front of Hilda’s tower. As he drew near its base, he saw the +doves perched in full session, on the sunny height of the battlements, +and a pair of them--who were probably their mistress’s especial pets, +and the confidants of her bosom secrets, if Hilda had any--came shooting +down, and made a feint of alighting on his shoulder. But, though they +evidently recognized him, their shyness would not yet allow so decided +a demonstration. Kenyon’s eyes followed them as they flew upward, hoping +that they might have come as joyful messengers of the girl’s safety, +and that he should discern her slender form, half hidden by the parapet, +trimming the extinguished lamp at the Virgin’s shrine, just as other +maidens set about the little duties of a household. Or, perhaps, he +might see her gentle and sweet face smiling down upon him, midway +towards heaven, as if she had flown thither for a day or two, just to +visit her kindred, but had been drawn earthward again by the spell of +unacknowledged love. + +But his eyes were blessed by no such fair vision or reality; nor, in +truth, were the eager, unquiet flutterings of the doves indicative of +any joyful intelligence, which they longed to share with Hilda’s friend, +but of anxious inquiries that they knew not how to utter. They could +not tell, any more than he, whither their lost companion had withdrawn +herself, but were in the same void despondency with him, feeling their +sunny and airy lives darkened and grown imperfect, now that her sweet +society was taken out of it. + +In the brisk morning air, Kenyon found it much easier to pursue his +researches than at the preceding midnight, when, if any slumberers heard +the clamor that he made, they had responded only with sullen and drowsy +maledictions, and turned to sleep again. It must be a very dear and +intimate reality for which people will be content to give up a dream. +When the sun was fairly up, however, it was quite another thing. The +heterogeneous population, inhabiting the lower floor of the old tower, +and the other extensive regions of the palace, were now willing to tell +all they knew, and imagine a great deal more. The amiability of these +Italians, assisted by their sharp and nimble wits, caused them to +overflow with plausible suggestions, and to be very bounteous in their +avowals of interest for the lost Hilda. In a less demonstrative people, +such expressions would have implied an eagerness to search land and sea, +and never rest till she were found. In the mouths that uttered them they +meant good wishes, and were, so far, better than indifference. There +was little doubt that many of them felt a genuine kindness for the shy, +brown-haired, delicate young foreign maiden, who had flown from some +distant land to alight upon their tower, where she consorted only with +the doves. But their energy expended itself in exclamation, and they +were content to leave all more active measures to Kenyon, and to the +Virgin, whose affair it was to see that the faithful votary of her lamp +received no harm. + +In a great Parisian domicile, multifarious as its inhabitants might +be, the concierge under the archway would be cognizant of all their +incomings and issuings forth. But except in rare cases, the general +entrance and main staircase of a Roman house are left as free as the +street, of which they form a sort of by-lane. The sculptor, therefore, +could hope to find information about Hilda’s movements only from casual +observers. + +On probing the knowledge of these people to the bottom, there was +various testimony as to the period when the girl had last been seen. +Some said that it was four days since there had been a trace of her; +but an English lady, in the second piano of the palace, was rather of +opinion that she had met her, the morning before, with a drawing-book +in her hand. Having no acquaintance with the young person, she had taken +little notice and might have been mistaken. A count, on the piano next +above, was very certain that he had lifted his hat to Hilda, under the +archway, two afternoons ago. An old woman, who had formerly tended the +shrine, threw some light upon the matter, by testifying that the lamp +required to be replenished once, at least, in three days, though its +reservoir of oil was exceedingly capacious. + +On the whole, though there was other evidence enough to create some +perplexity, Kenyon could not satisfy himself that she had been visible +since the afternoon of the third preceding day, when a fruit seller +remembered her coming out of the arched passage, with a sealed packet in +her hand. As nearly as he could ascertain, this was within an hour +after Hilda had taken leave of the sculptor at his own studio, with the +understanding that they were to meet at the Vatican the next day. Two +nights, therefore, had intervened, during which the lost maiden was +unaccounted for. + +The door of Hilda’s apartments was still locked, as on the preceding +night; but Kenyon sought out the wife of the person who sublet them, and +prevailed on her to give him admittance by means of the duplicate key +which the good woman had in her possession. On entering, the maidenly +neatness and simple grace, recognizable in all the arrangements, made +him visibly sensible that this was the daily haunt of a pure soul, in +whom religion and the love of beauty were at one. + +Thence, the sturdy Roman matron led the sculptor across a narrow +passage, and threw open the door of a small chamber, on the threshold of +which he reverently paused. Within, there was a bed, covered with white +drapery, enclosed with snowy curtains like a tent, and of barely width +enough for a slender figure to repose upon it. The sight of this cool, +airy, and secluded bower caused the lover’s heart to stir as if enough +of Hilda’s gentle dreams were lingering there to make him happy for +a single instant. But then came the closer consciousness of her loss, +bringing along with it a sharp sting of anguish. + +“Behold, Signore,” said the matron; “here is the little staircase by +which the signorina used to ascend and trim the Blessed Virgin’s lamp. +She was worthy to be a Catholic, such pains the good child bestowed to +keep it burning; and doubtless the Blessed Mary will intercede for her, +in consideration of her pious offices, heretic though she was. What will +become of the old palazzo, now that the lamp is extinguished, the saints +above us only know! Will you mount, Signore, to the battlements, and see +if she have left any trace of herself there?” + +The sculptor stepped across the chamber and ascended the little +staircase, which gave him access to the breezy summit of the tower. It +affected him inexpressibly to see a bouquet of beautiful flowers beneath +the shrine, and to recognize in them an offering of his own to Hilda, +who had put them in a vase of water, and dedicated them to the Virgin, +in a spirit partly fanciful, perhaps, but still partaking of the +religious sentiment which so profoundly influenced her character. One +rosebud, indeed, she had selected for herself from the rich mass of +flowers; for Kenyon well remembered recognizing it in her bosom when he +last saw her at his studio. + +“That little part of my great love she took,” said he to himself. “The +remainder she would have devoted to Heaven; but has left it withering +in the sun and wind. Ah! Hilda, Hilda, had you given me a right to watch +over you, this evil had not come!” + +“Be not downcast, signorino mio,” said the Roman matron, in response to +the deep sigh which struggled out of Kenyon’s breast. “The dear little +maiden, as we see, has decked yonder blessed shrine as devoutly as +I myself, or any Other good Catholic woman, could have done. It is a +religious act, and has more than the efficacy of a prayer. The signorina +will as surely come back as the sun will fall through the window +to-morrow no less than to-day. Her own doves have often been missing +for a day or two, but they were sure to come fluttering about her head +again, when she least expected them. So will it be with this dove-like +child.” + +“It might be so,” thought Kenyon, with yearning anxiety, “if a pure +maiden were as safe as a dove, in this evil world of ours.” + +As they returned through the studio, with the furniture and arrangements +of which the sculptor was familiar, he missed a small ebony writing-desk +that he remembered as having always been placed on a table there. He +knew that it was Hilda’s custom to deposit her letters in this desk, +as well as other little objects of which she wished to be specially +careful. + +“What has become of it?” he suddenly inquired, laying his hand on the +table. + +“Become of what, pray?” exclaimed the woman, a little disturbed. “Does +the Signore suspect a robbery, then?” + +“The signorina’s writing-desk is gone,” replied Kenyon; “it always stood +on this table, and I myself saw it there only a few days ago.” + +“Ah, well!” said the woman, recovering her composure, which she seemed +partly to have lost. “The signorina has doubtless taken it away with +her. The fact is of good omen; for it proves that she did not go +unexpectedly, and is likely to return when it may best suit her +convenience.” + +“This is very singular,” observed Kenyon. “Have the rooms been entered +by yourself, or any other person, since the signorina’s disappearance?” + +“Not by me, Signore, so help me Heaven and the saints!” said the matron. +“And I question whether there are more than two keys in Rome that will +suit this strange old lock. Here is one; and as for the other, the +signorina carlies it in her pocket.” + +The sculptor had no reason to doubt the word of this respectable dame. +She appeared to be well meaning and kind hearted, as Roman matrons +generally are; except when a fit of passion incites them to shower +horrible curses on an obnoxious individual, or perhaps to stab him +with the steel stiletto that serves them for a hairpin. But Italian +asseverations of any questionable fact, however true they may chance to +be, have no witness of their truth in the faces of those who utter them. +Their words are spoken with strange earnestness, and yet do not vouch +for themselves as coming from any depth, like roots drawn out of the +substance of the soul, with some of the soil clinging to them. There is +always a something inscrutable, instead of frankness, in their eyes. In +short, they lie so much like truth, and speak truth so much as if they +were telling a lie, that their auditor suspects himself in the wrong, +whether he believes or disbelieves them; it being the one thing certain, +that falsehood is seldom an intolerable burden to the tenderest of +Italian consciences. + +“It is very strange what can have become of the desk!” repeated Kenyon, +looking the woman in the face. + +“Very strange, indeed, Signore,” she replied meekly, without turning +away her eyes in the least, but checking his insight of them at about +half an inch below the surface. “I think the signorina must have taken +it with her.” + +It seemed idle to linger here any longer. Kenyon therefore departed, +after making an arrangement with the woman, by the terms of which she +was to allow the apartments to remain in their present state, on his +assuming the responsibility for the rent. + +He spent the day in making such further search and investigation as he +found practicable; and, though at first trammelled by an unwillingness +to draw public attention to Hilda’s affairs, the urgency of the +circumstances soon compelled him to be thoroughly in earnest. In the +course of a week, he tried all conceivable modes of fathoming the +mystery, not merely by his personal efforts and those of his brother +artists and friends, but through the police, who readily undertook the +task, and expressed strong confidence of success. But the Roman police +has very little efficiency, except in the interest of the despotism of +which it is a tool. With their cocked hats, shoulder belts, and swords, +they wear a sufficiently imposing aspect, and doubtless keep their eyes +open wide enough to track a political offender, but are too often blind +to private outrage, be it murder or any lesser crime. Kenyon counted +little upon their assistance, and profited by it not at all. + +Remembering the mystic words which Miriam had addressed to him, he +was anxious to meet her, but knew not whither she had gone, nor how +to obtain an interview either with herself or Donatello. The days wore +away, and still there were no tidings of the lost one; no lamp rekindled +before the Virgin’s shrine; no light shining into the lover’s heart; +no star of Hope--he was ready to say, as he turned his eyes almost +reproachfully upward--in heaven itself! + + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + + +THE FLIGHT OF HILDA’S DOVES + + +Along with the lamp on Hilda’s tower, the sculptor now felt that a light +had gone out, or, at least, was ominously obscured, to which he owed +whatever cheerfulness had heretofore illuminated his cold, artistic +life. The idea of this girl had been like a taper of virgin wax, burning +with a pure and steady flame, and chasing away the evil spirits out of +the magic circle of its beams. It had darted its rays afar, and modified +the whole sphere in which Kenyon had his being. Beholding it no more, he +at once found himself in darkness and astray. + +This was the time, perhaps, when Kenyon first became sensible what a +dreary city is Rome, and what a terrible weight is there imposed on +human life, when any gloom within the heart corresponds to the spell of +ruin that has been thrown over the site of ancient empire. He wandered, +as it were, and stumbled over the fallen columns, and among the tombs, +and groped his way into the sepulchral darkness of the catacombs, and +found no path emerging from them. The happy may well enough continue to +be such, beneath the brilliant sky of Rome. But, if you go thither in +melancholy mood, if you go with a ruin in your heart, or with a +vacant site there, where once stood the airy fabric of happiness, now +vanished,--all the ponderous gloom of the Roman Past will pile itself +upon that spot, and crush you down as with the heaped-up marble and +granite, the earth-mounds, and multitudinous bricks of its material +decay. + +It might be supposed that a melancholy man would here make acquaintance +with a grim philosophy. He should learn to bear patiently his individual +griefs, that endure only for one little lifetime, when here are the +tokens of such infinite misfortune on an imperial scale, and when so +many far landmarks of time, all around him, are bringing the remoteness +of a thousand years ago into the sphere of yesterday. But it is in vain +that you seek this shrub of bitter sweetness among the plants that root +themselves on the roughness of massive walls, or trail downward from the +capitals of pillars, or spring out of the green turf in the palace of +the Caesars. It does not grow in Rome; not even among the five hundred +various weeds which deck the grassy arches of the Coliseum. You look +through a vista of century beyond century,--through much shadow, and a +little sunshine,--through barbarism and civilization, alternating with +one another like actors that have prearranged their parts: through +a broad pathway of progressive generations bordered by palaces and +temples, and bestridden by old, triumphal arches, until, in the +distance, you behold the obelisks, with their unintelligible +inscriptions, hinting at a past infinitely more remote than history +can define. Your own life is as nothing, when compared with that +immeasurable distance; but still you demand, none the less earnestly, a +gleam of sunshine, instead of a speck of shadow, on the step or two that +will bring you to your quiet rest. + +How exceedingly absurd! All men, from the date of the earliest +obelisk,--and of the whole world, moreover, since that far epoch, and +before,--have made a similar demand, and seldom had their wish. If they +had it, what are they the better now? But, even while you taunt yourself +with this sad lesson, your heart cries out obstreperously for its small +share of earthly happiness, and will not be appeased by the myriads of +dead hopes that lie crushed into the soil of Rome. How wonderful +that this our narrow foothold of the Present should hold its own so +constantly, and, while every moment changing, should still be like a +rock betwixt the encountering tides of the long Past and the infinite +To-come! + +Man of marble though he was, the sculptor grieved for the Irrevocable. +Looking back upon Hilda’s way of life, he marvelled at his own blind +stupidity, which had kept him from remonstrating as a friend, if with no +stronger right against the risks that she continually encountered. Being +so innocent, she had no means of estimating those risks, nor even a +possibility of suspecting their existence. But he--who had spent +years in Rome, with a man’s far wider scope of observation and +experience--knew things that made him shudder. It seemed to Kenyon, +looking through the darkly colored medium of his fears, that all modes +of crime were crowded into the close intricacy of Roman streets, and +that there was no redeeming element, such as exists in other dissolute +and wicked cities. + +For here was a priesthood, pampered, sensual, with red and bloated +cheeks, and carnal eyes. With apparently a grosser development of animal +life than most men, they were placed in an unnatural relation with +woman, and thereby lost the healthy, human conscience that pertains to +other human beings, who own the sweet household ties connecting them +with wife and daughter. And here was an indolent nobility, with no high +aims or opportunities, but cultivating a vicious way of life, as if +it were an art, and the only one which they cared to learn. Here was a +population, high and low, that had no genuine belief in virtue; and +if they recognized any act as criminal, they might throw off all +care, remorse, and memory of it, by kneeling a little while at the +confessional, and rising unburdened, active, elastic, and incited by +fresh appetite for the next ensuing sin. Here was a soldiery who felt +Rome to be their conquered city, and doubtless considered themselves the +legal inheritors of the foul license which Gaul, Goth, and Vandal have +here exercised in days gone by. + +And what localities for new crime existed in those guilty sites, +where the crime of departed ages used to be at home, and had its long, +hereditary haunt! What street in Rome, what ancient ruin, what one place +where man had standing-room, what fallen stone was there, unstained with +one or another kind of guilt! In some of the vicissitudes of the city’s +pride or its calamity, the dark tide of human evil had swelled over it, +far higher than the Tiber ever rose against the acclivities of the +seven hills. To Kenyon’s morbid view, there appeared to be a contagious +element, rising fog-like from the ancient depravity of Rome, and +brooding over the dead and half-rotten city, as nowhere else on earth. +It prolonged the tendency to crime, and developed an instantaneous +growth of it, whenever an opportunity was found; And where could it be +found so readily as here! In those vast palaces, there were a hundred +remote nooks where Innocence might shriek in vain. Beneath meaner houses +there were unsuspected dungeons that had once been princely chambers, +and open to the daylight; but, on account of some wickedness there +perpetrated, each passing age had thrown its handful of dust upon the +spot, and buried it from sight. Only ruffians knew of its existence, and +kept it for murder, and worse crime. + +Such was the city through which Hilda, for three years past, had been +wandering without a protector or a guide. She had trodden lightly over +the crumble of old crimes; she had taken her way amid the grime and +corruption which Paganism had left there, and a perverted Christianity +had made more noisome; walking saint-like through it all, with white, +innocent feet; until, in some dark pitfall that lay right across her +path, she had vanished out of sight. It was terrible to imagine what +hideous outrage might have thrust her into that abyss! + +Then the lover tried to comfort himself with the idea that Hilda’s +sanctity was a sufficient safeguard. Ah, yes; she was so pure! The +angels, that were of the same sisterhood, would never let Hilda come to +harm. A miracle would be wrought on her behalf, as naturally as a father +would stretch out his hand to save a best-beloved child. Providence +would keep a little area and atmosphere about her as safe and wholesome +as heaven itself, although the flood of perilous iniquity might hem +her round, and its black waves hang curling above her head! But these +reflections were of slight avail. No doubt they were the religious +truth. Yet the ways of Providence are utterly inscrutable; and many a +murder has been done, and many an innocent virgin has lifted her white +arms, beseeching its aid in her extremity, and all in vain; so that, +though Providence is infinitely good and wise, and perhaps for that very +reason, it may be half an eternity before the great circle of its scheme +shall bring us the superabundant recompense for all these sorrows! But +what the lover asked was such prompt consolation as might consist with +the brief span of mortal life; the assurance of Hilda’s present safety, +and her restoration within that very hour. + +An imaginative man, he suffered the penalty of his endowment in the +hundred-fold variety of gloomily tinted scenes that it presented to +him, in which Hilda was always a central figure. The sculptor forgot his +marble. Rome ceased to be anything, for him, but a labyrinth of dismal +streets, in one or another of which the lost girl had disappeared. He +was haunted with the idea that some circumstance, most important to be +known, and perhaps easily discoverable, had hitherto been overlooked, +and that, if he could lay hold of this one clew, it would guide him +directly in the track of Hilda’s footsteps. With this purpose in +view, he went, every morning, to the Via Portoghese, and made it +the starting-point of fresh investigations. After nightfall, too, he +invariably returned thither, with a faint hope fluttering at his heart +that the lamp might again be shining on the summit of the tower, and +would dispel this ugly mystery out of the circle consecrated by its +rays. There being no point of which he could take firm hold, his mind +was filled with unsubstantial hopes and fears. Once Kenyon had seemed +to cut his life in marble; now he vaguely clutched at it, and found it +vapor. + +In his unstrung and despondent mood, one trifling circumstance affected +him with an idle pang. The doves had at first been faithful to their +lost mistress. They failed not to sit in a row upon her window-sill, +or to alight on the shrine, or the church-angels, and on the roofs +and portals of the neighboring houses, in evident expectation of her +reappearance. After the second week, however, they began to take flight, +and dropping off by pairs, betook themselves to other dove-cotes. Only a +single dove remained, and brooded drearily beneath the shrine. The +flock that had departed were like the many hopes that had vanished +from Kenyon’s heart; the one that still lingered, and looked so +wretched,--was it a Hope, or already a Despair? + +In the street, one day, the sculptor met a priest of mild and venerable +aspect; and as his mind dwelt continually upon Hilda, and was especially +active in bringing up all incidents that had ever been connected with +her, it immediately struck him that this was the very father with whom +he had seen her at the confessional. Such trust did Hilda inspire +in him, that Kenyon had never asked what was the subject of the +communication between herself and this old priest. He had no reason for +imagining that it could have any relation with her disappearance, +so long subsequently; but, being thus brought face to face with a +personage, mysteriously associated, as he now remembered, with her whom +he had lost, an impulse ran before his thoughts and led the sculptor to +address him. + +It might be that the reverend kindliness of the old man’s expression +took Kenyon’s heart by surprise; at all events, he spoke as if there +were a recognized acquaintanceship, and an object of mutual interest +between them. + +“She has gone from me, father,” said he. + +“Of whom do you speak, my son?” inquired the priest. + +“Of that sweet girl,” answered Kenyon, “who knelt to you at the +confessional. Surely you remember her, among all the mortals to whose +confessions you have listened! For she alone could have had no sins to +reveal.” + +“Yes; I remember,” said the priest, with a gleam of recollection in his +eyes. “She was made to bear a miraculous testimony to the efficacy of +the divine ordinances of the Church, by seizing forcibly upon one of +them, and finding immediate relief from it, heretic though she was. +It is my purpose to publish a brief narrative of this miracle, for +the edification of mankind, in Latin, Italian, and English, from the +printing press of the Propaganda. Poor child! Setting apart her heresy, +she was spotless, as you say. And is she dead?” + +“Heaven forbid, father!” exclaimed Kenyon, shrinking back. “But she has +gone from me, I know not whither. It may be--yes, the idea seizes upon +my mind--that what she revealed to you will suggest some clew to the +mystery of her disappearance.’” + +“None, my son, none,” answered the priest, shaking his head; +“nevertheless, I bid you be of good cheer. That young maiden is not +doomed to die a heretic. Who knows what the Blessed Virgin may at this +moment be doing for her soul! Perhaps, when you next behold her, she +will be clad in the shining white robe of the true faith.” + +This latter suggestion did not convey all the comfort which the old +priest possibly intended by it; but he imparted it to the sculptor, +along with his blessing, as the two best things that he could bestow, +and said nothing further, except to bid him farewell. + +When they had parted, however, the idea of Hilda’s conversion to +Catholicism recurred to her lover’s mind, bringing with it certain +reflections, that gave a new turn to his surmises about the mystery into +which she had vanished. Not that he seriously apprehended--although +the superabundance of her religious sentiment might mislead her for +a moment--that the New England girl would permanently succumb to the +scarlet superstitions which surrounded her in Italy. But the incident +of the confessional if known, as probably it was, to the eager +propagandists who prowl about for souls, as cats to catch a mouse--would +surely inspire the most confident expectations of bringing her over to +the faith. With so pious an end in view, would Jesuitical morality be +shocked at the thought of kidnapping the mortal body, for the sake of +the immortal spirit that might otherwise be lost forever? Would not the +kind old priest, himself, deem this to be infinitely the kindest service +that he could perform for the stray lamb, who had so strangely sought +his aid? + +If these suppositions were well founded, Hilda was most likely a +prisoner in one of the religious establishments that are so numerous in +Rome. The idea, according to the aspect in which it was viewed, brought +now a degree of comfort, and now an additional perplexity. On the one +hand, Hilda was safe from any but spiritual assaults; on the other, +where was the possibility of breaking through all those barred portals, +and searching a thousand convent cells, to set her free? + +Kenyon, however, as it happened, was prevented from endeavoring to +follow out this surmise, which only the state of hopeless uncertainty, +that almost bewildered his reason, could have led him for a moment +to entertain. A communication reached him by an unknown hand, in +consequence of which, and within an hour after receiving it, he took his +way through one of the gates of Rome. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + + +A WALK ON THE CAMPAGNA + + +It was a bright forenoon of February; a month in which the brief +severity of a Roman winter is already past, and when violets and daisies +begin to show themselves in spots favored by the sun. The sculptor came +out of the city by the gate of San Sebastiano, and walked briskly along +the Appian Way. + +For the space of a mile or two beyond the gate, this ancient and famous +road is as desolate and disagreeable as most of the other Roman avenues. +It extends over small, uncomfortable paving-stones, between brick and +plastered walls, which are very solidly constructed, and so high as +almost to exclude a view of the surrounding country. The houses are of +most uninviting aspect, neither picturesque, nor homelike and social; +they have seldom or never a door opening on the wayside, but are +accessible only from the rear, and frown inhospitably upon the traveller +through iron-grated windows. Here and there appears a dreary inn or a +wine-shop, designated by the withered bush beside the entrance, within +which you discern a stone-built and sepulchral interior, where guests +refresh themselves with sour bread and goats’-milk cheese, washed down +with wine of dolorous acerbity. + +At frequent intervals along the roadside up-rises the ruin of an ancient +tomb. As they stand now, these structures are immensely high and broken +mounds of conglomerated brick, stone, pebbles, and earth, all molten +by time into a mass as solid and indestructible as if each tomb were +composed of a single boulder of granite. When first erected, they were +cased externally, no doubt, with slabs of polished marble, artfully +wrought bas-reliefs, and all such suitable adornments, and were rendered +majestically beautiful by grand architectural designs. This antique +splendor has long since been stolen from the dead, to decorate the +palaces and churches of the living. Nothing remains to the dishonored +sepulchres, except their massiveness. + +Even the pyramids form hardly a stranger spectacle, or are more alien +from human sympathies, than the tombs of the Appian Way, with their +gigantic height, breadth, and solidity, defying time and the elements, +and far too mighty to be demolished by an ordinary earthquake. Here you +may see a modern dwelling, and a garden with its vines and olive-trees, +perched on the lofty dilapidation of a tomb, which forms a precipice of +fifty feet in depth on each of the four sides. There is a home on +that funereal mound, where generations of children have been born, and +successive lives been spent, undisturbed by the ghost of the stern Roman +whose ashes were so preposterously burdened. Other sepulchres wear a +crown of grass, shrubbery, and forest-trees, which throw out a broad +sweep of branches, having had time, twice over, to be a thousand years +of age. On one of them stands a tower, which, though immemorially more +modern than the tomb, was itself built by immemorial hands, and is +now rifted quite from top to bottom by a vast fissure of decay; the +tomb-hillock, its foundation, being still as firm as ever, and likely to +endure until the last trump shall rend it wide asunder, and summon forth +its unknown dead. + +Yes; its unknown dead! For, except in one or two doubtful instances, +these mountainous sepulchral edifices have not availed to keep so much +as the bare name of an individual or a family from oblivion. Ambitious +of everlasting remembrance, as they were, the slumberers might just +as well have gone quietly to rest, each in his pigeon-hole of a +columbarium, or under his little green hillock in a graveyard, without a +headstone to mark the spot. It is rather satisfactory than otherwise, to +think that all these idle pains have turned out so utterly abortive. + +About two miles, or more, from the city gate, and right upon the +roadside, Kenyon passed an immense round pile, sepulchral in its +original purposes, like those already mentioned. It was built of +great blocks of hewn stone, on a vast, square foundation of rough, +agglomerated material, such as composes the mass of all the other +ruinous tombs. But whatever might be the cause, it was in a far +better state of preservation than they. On its broad summit rose the +battlements of a mediaeval fortress, out of the midst of which (so long +since had time begun to crumble the supplemental structure, and cover +it with soil, by means of wayside dust) grew trees, bushes, and thick +festoons of ivy. This tomb of a woman had become the citadel and +donjon-keep of a castle; and all the care that Cecilia Metella’s husband +could bestow, to secure endless peace for her beloved relics, had only +sufficed to make that handful of precious ashes the nucleus of battles, +long ages after her death. + +A little beyond this point, the sculptor turned aside from the Appian +Way, and directed his course across the Campagna, guided by tokens that +were obvious only to himself. On one side of him, but at a distance, the +Claudian aqueduct was striding over fields and watercourses. Before him, +many miles away, with a blue atmosphere between, rose the Alban hills, +brilliantly silvered with snow and sunshine. + +He was not without a companion. A buffalo-calf, that seemed shy and +sociable by the selfsame impulse, had begun to make acquaintance with +him, from the moment when he left the road. This frolicsome creature +gambolled along, now before, now behind; standing a moment to gaze at +him, with wild, curious eyes, he leaped aside and shook his shaggy head, +as Kenyon advanced too nigh; then, after loitering in the rear, he came +galloping up, like a charge of cavalry, but halted, all of a sudden, +when the sculptor turned to look, and bolted across the Campagna at the +slightest signal of nearer approach. The young, sportive thing, Kenyon +half fancied, was serving him as a guide, like the heifer that led +Cadmus to the site of his destined city; for, in spite of a hundred +vagaries, his general course was in the right direction, and along by +several objects which the sculptor had noted as landmarks of his way. + +In this natural intercourse with a rude and healthy form of animal life, +there was something that wonderfully revived Kenyon’s spirits. The warm +rays of the sun, too, were wholesome for him in body and soul; and so +was a breeze that bestirred itself occasionally, as if for the sole +purpose of breathing upon his cheek and dying softly away, when he would +fain have felt a little more decided kiss. This shy but loving breeze +reminded him strangely of what Hilda’s deportment had sometimes been +towards himself. + +The weather had very much to do, no doubt, with these genial and +delightful sensations, that made the sculptor so happy with mere life, +in spite of a head and heart full of doleful thoughts, anxieties, and +fears, which ought in all reason to have depressed him. It was like no +weather that exists anywhere, save in Paradise and in Italy; certainly +not in America, where it is always too strenuous on the side either of +heat or cold. Young as the season was, and wintry, as it would have +been under a more rigid sky, it resembled summer rather than what we +New Englanders recognize in our idea of spring. But there was an +indescribable something, sweet, fresh, and remotely affectionate, which +the matronly summer loses, and which thrilled, and, as it were, tickled +Kenyon’s heart with a feeling partly of the senses, yet far more a +spiritual delight. In a word, it was as if Hilda’s delicate breath were +on his cheek. + +After walking at a brisk pace for about half an hour, he reached a +spot where an excavation appeared to have been begun, at some not +very distant period. There was a hollow space in the earth, looking +exceedingly like a deserted cellar, being enclosed within old +subterranean walls, constructed of thin Roman bricks, and made +accessible by a narrow flight of stone steps. A suburban villa had +probably stood over this site, in the imperial days of Rome, and these +might have been the ruins of a bathroom, or some other apartment that +was required to be wholly or partly under ground. A spade can scarcely +be put into that soil, so rich in lost and forgotten things, without +hitting upon some discovery which would attract all eyes, in any other +land. If you dig but a little way, you gather bits of precious marble, +coins, rings, and engraved gems; if you go deeper, you break into +columbaria, or into sculptured and richly frescoed apartments that look +like festive halls, but were only sepulchres. + +The sculptor descended into the cellar-like cavity, and sat down on a +block of stone. His eagerness had brought him thither sooner than +the appointed hour. The sunshine fell slantwise into the hollow, and +happened to be resting on what Kenyon at first took to be a shapeless +fragment of stone, possibly marble, which was partly concealed by the +crumbling down of earth. + +But his practised eye was soon aware of something artistic in this rude +object. To relieve the anxious tedium of his situation, he cleared +away some of the soil, which seemed to have fallen very recently, and +discovered a headless figure of marble. It was earth stained, as well it +might be, and had a slightly corroded surface, but at once impressed the +sculptor as a Greek production, and wonderfully delicate and beautiful. +The head was gone; both arms were broken off at the elbow. Protruding +from the loose earth, however, Kenyon beheld the fingers of a marble +hand; it was still appended to its arm, and a little further search +enabled him to find the other. Placing these limbs in what the nice +adjustment of the fractures proved to be their true position, the +poor, fragmentary woman forthwith showed that she retained her modest +instincts to the last. She had perished with them, and snatched them +back at the moment of revival. For these long-buried hands immediately +disposed themselves in the manner that nature prompts, as the antique +artist knew, and as all the world has seen, in the Venus de’ Medici. + +“What a discovery is here!” thought Kenyon to himself. “I seek for +Hilda, and find a marble woman! Is the omen good or ill?” + +In a corner of the excavation lay a small round block of stone, much +incrusted with earth that had dried and hardened upon it. So, at least, +you would have described this object, until the sculptor lifted it, +turned it hither and thither in his hands, brushed off the clinging +soil, and finally placed it on the slender neck of the newly discovered +statue. The effect was magical. It immediately lighted up and vivified +the whole figure, endowing it with personality, soul, and intelligence. +The beautiful Idea at once asserted its immortality, and converted that +heap of forlorn fragments into a whole, as perfect to the mind, if not +to the eye, as when the new marble gleamed with snowy lustre; nor was +the impression marred by the earth that still hung upon the exquisitely +graceful limbs, and even filled the lovely crevice of the lips. Kenyon +cleared it away from between them, and almost deemed himself rewarded +with a living smile. + +It was either the prototype or a better repetition of the Venus of the +Tribune. But those who have been dissatisfied with the small head, the +narrow, soulless face, the button-hole eyelids, of that famous statue, +and its mouth such as nature never moulded, should see the genial +breadth of this far nobler and sweeter countenance. It is one of the few +works of antique sculpture in which we recognize womanhood, and that, +moreover, without prejudice to its divinity. + +Here, then, was a treasure for the sculptor to have found! How happened +it to be lying there, beside its grave of twenty centuries? Why were not +the tidings of its discovery already noised abroad? The world was richer +than yesterday, by something far more precious than gold. Forgotten +beauty had come back, as beautiful as ever; a goddess had risen from her +long slumber, and was a goddess still. Another cabinet in the Vatican +was destined to shine as lustrously as that of the Apollo Belvedere; +or, if the aged pope should resign his claim, an emperor would woo this +tender marble, and win her as proudly as an imperial bride! + +Such were the thoughts with which Kenyon exaggerated to himself the +importance of the newly discovered statue, and strove to feel at least +a portion of the interest which this event would have inspired in him a +little while before. But, in reality, he found it difficult to fix +his mind upon the subject. He could hardly, we fear, be reckoned a +consummate artist, because there was something dearer to him than his +art; and, by the greater strength of a human affection, the divine +statue seemed to fall asunder again, and become only a heap of worthless +fragments. + +While the sculptor sat listlessly gazing at it, there was a sound of +small hoofs, clumsily galloping on the Campagna; and soon his frisky +acquaintance, the buffalo-calf, came and peeped over the edge of the +excavation. Almost at the same moment he heard voices, which approached +nearer and nearer; a man’s voice, and a feminine one, talking the +musical tongue of Italy. Besides the hairy visage of his four footed +friend, Kenyon now saw the figures of a peasant and a contadina, making +gestures of salutation to him, on the opposite verge of the hollow +space. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + + +THE PEASANT AND CONTADINA + + +They descended into the excavation: a young peasant, in the short blue +jacket, the small-clothes buttoned at the knee, and buckled shoes, that +compose one of the ugliest dresses ever worn by man, except the wearer’s +form have a grace which any garb, or the nudity of an antique statue, +would equally set off; and, hand in hand with him, a village girl, in +one of those brilliant costumes largely kindled up with scarlet, and +decorated with gold embroidery, in which the contadinas array themselves +on feast-days. But Kenyon was not deceived; he had recognized the voices +of his friends, indeed, even before their disguised figures came between +him and the sunlight. Donatello was the peasant; the contadina, with the +airy smile, half mirthful, though it shone out of melancholy eyes,--was +Miriam. + +They both greeted the sculptor with a familiar kindness which reminded +him of the days when Hilda and they and he had lived so happily +together, before the mysterious adventure of the catacomb. What a +succession of sinister events had followed one spectral figure out of +that gloomy labyrinth. + +“It is carnival time, you know,” said Miriam, as if in explanation of +Donatello’s and her own costume. “Do you remember how merrily we spent +the Carnival, last year?” + +“It seems many years ago,” replied Kenyon. “We are all so changed!” + +When individuals approach one another with deep purposes on both sides, +they seldom come at once to the matter which they have most at heart. +They dread the electric shock of a too sudden contact with it. A natural +impulse leads them to steal gradually onward, hiding themselves, as it +were, behind a closer, and still a closer topic, until they stand face +to face with the true point of interest. Miriam was conscious of this +impulse, and partially obeyed it. + +“So your instincts as a sculptor have brought you into the presence of +our newly discovered statue,” she observed. “Is it not beautiful? A +far truer image of immortal womanhood than the poor little damsel at +Florence, world famous though she be.” + +“Most beautiful,” said Kenyon, casting an indifferent glance at the +Venus. “The time has been when the sight of this statue would have been +enough to make the day memorable.” + +“And will it not do so now?” Miriam asked. + +“I fancied so, indeed, when we discovered it two days ago. It is +Donatello’s prize. We were sitting here together, planning an interview +with you, when his keen eyes detected the fallen goddess, almost +entirely buried under that heap of earth, which the clumsy excavators +showered down upon her, I suppose. We congratulated ourselves, chiefly +for your sake. The eyes of us three are the only ones to which she +has yet revealed herself. Does it not frighten you a little, like the +apparition of a lovely woman that livid of old, and has long lain in the +grave?” + +“Ah, Miriam! I cannot respond to you,” said the sculptor, with +irrepressible impatience. “Imagination and the love of art have both +died out of me.” + +“Miriam,” interposed Donatello with gentle gravity, “why should we keep +our friend in suspense? We know what anxiety he feels. Let us give him +what intelligence we can.” + +“You are so direct and immediate, my beloved friend!” answered Miriam +with an unquiet smile. “There are several reasons why I should like +to play round this matter a little while, and cover it with fanciful +thoughts, as we strew a grave with flowers.” + +“A grave!” exclaimed the sculptor. + +“No grave in which your heart need be buried,” she replied; “you have no +such calamity to dread. But I linger and hesitate, because every word I +speak brings me nearer to a crisis from which I shrink. Ah, Donatello! +let us live a little longer the life of these last few days! It is so +bright, so airy, so childlike, so without either past or future! Here, +on the wild Campagna, you seem to have found, both for yourself and me, +the life that belonged to you in early youth; the sweet irresponsible +life which you inherited from your mythic ancestry, the Fauns of Monte +Beni. Our stern and black reality will come upon us speedily enough. +But, first, a brief time more of this strange happiness.” + +“I dare not linger upon it,” answered Donatello, with an expression +that reminded the sculptor of the gloomiest days of his remorse at Monte +Beni. “I dare to be so happy as you have seen me, only because I have +felt the time to be so brief.” + +“One day, then!” pleaded Miriam. “One more day in the wild freedom of +this sweet-scented air.” + +“Well, one more day,” said Donatello, smiling; and his smile touched +Kenyon with a pathos beyond words, there being gayety and sadness both +melted into it; “but here is Hilda’s friend, and our own. Comfort him, +at least, and set his heart at rest, since you have it partly in your +power.” + +“Ah, surely he might endure his pangs a little longer!” cried Miriam, +turning to Kenyon with a tricksy, fitful kind of mirth, that served to +hide some solemn necessity, too sad and serious to be looked at in its +naked aspect. “You love us both, I think, and will be content to suffer +for our sakes, one other day. Do I ask too much?” + +“Tell me of Hilda,” replied the sculptor; “tell me only that she is +safe, and keep back what else you will.” + +“Hilda is safe,” said Miriam. “There is a Providence purposely for +Hilda, as I remember to have told you long ago. But a great trouble--an +evil deed, let us acknowledge it has spread out its dark branches so +widely, that the shadow falls on innocence as well as guilt. There was +one slight link that connected your sweet Hilda with a crime which it +was her unhappy fortune to witness, but of which I need not say she was +as guiltless as the angels that looked out of heaven, and saw it too. +No matter, now, what the consequence has been. You shall have your lost +Hilda back, and--who knows?--perhaps tenderer than she was.” + +“But when will she return?” persisted the sculptor; “tell me the when, +and where, and how!” + +“A little patience. Do not press me so,” said Miriam; and again Kenyon +was struck by the sprite-like, fitful characteristic of her manner, and +a sort of hysteric gayety, which seemed to be a will-o’-the-wisp from +a sorrow stagnant at her heart. “You have more time to spare than I. +First, listen to something that I have to tell. We will talk of Hilda by +and by.” + +Then Miriam spoke of her own life, and told facts that threw a gleam +of light over many things which had perplexed the sculptor in all his +previous knowledge of her. She described herself as springing from +English parentage, on the mother’s side, but with a vein, likewise, of +Jewish blood; yet connected, through her father, with one of those few +princely families of Southern Italy, which still retain great wealth and +influence. And she revealed a name at which her auditor started and grew +pale; for it was one that, only a few years before, had been familiar +to the world in connection with a mysterious and terrible event. +The reader, if he think it worth while to recall some of the strange +incidents which have been talked of, and forgotten, within no long time +past, will remember Miriam’s name. + +“You shudder at me, I perceive,” said Miriam, suddenly interrupting her +narrative. + +“No; you were innocent,” replied the sculptor. “I shudder at the +fatality that seems to haunt your footsteps, and throws a shadow of +crime about your path, you being guiltless.” + +“There was such a fatality,” said Miriam; “yes; the shadow fell upon +me, innocent, but I went astray in it, and wandered--as Hilda could tell +you--into crime.” + +She went on to say that, while yet a child, she had lost her English +mother. From a very early period of her life, there had been a contract +of betrothal between herself and a certain marchese, the representative +of another branch of her paternal house,--a family arrangement between +two persons of disproportioned ages, and in which feeling went for +nothing. Most Italian girls of noble rank would have yielded themselves +to such a marriage as an affair of course. But there was something +in Miriam’s blood, in her mixed race, in her recollections of her +mother,--some characteristic, finally, in her own nature,--which +had given her freedom of thought, and force of will, and made this +prearranged connection odious to her. Moreover, the character of her +destined husband would have been a sufficient and insuperable objection; +for it betrayed traits so evil, so treacherous, so vile, and yet so +strangely subtle, as could only be accounted for by the insanity which +often develops itself in old, close-kept races of men, when long unmixed +with newer blood. Reaching the age when the marriage contract should +have been fulfilled, Miriam had utterly repudiated it. + +Some time afterwards had occurred that terrible event to which Miriam +had alluded when she revealed her name; an event, the frightful and +mysterious circumstances of which will recur to many minds, but of which +few or none can have found for themselves a satisfactory explanation. It +only concerns the present narrative, inasmuch as the suspicion of being +at least an accomplice in the crime fell darkly and directly upon Miriam +herself. + +“But you know that I am innocent!” she cried, interrupting herself +again, and looking Kenyon in the face. + +“I know it by my deepest consciousness,” he answered; “and I know it by +Hilda’s trust and entire affection, which you never could have won had +you been capable of guilt.” + +“That is sure ground, indeed, for pronouncing me innocent,” said Miriam, +with the tears gushing into her eyes. “Yet I have since become a horror +to your saint-like Hilda, by a crime which she herself saw me help to +perpetrate!” + +She proceeded with her story. The great influence of her family +connections had shielded her from some of the consequences of her +imputed guilt. But, in her despair, she had fled from home, and had +surrounded her flight with such circumstances as rendered it the most +probable conclusion that she had committed suicide. Miriam, however, was +not of the feeble nature which takes advantage of that obvious and poor +resource in earthly difficulties. She flung herself upon the world, +and speedily created a new sphere, in which Hilda’s gentle purity, +the sculptor’s sensibility, clear thought, and genius, and Donatello’s +genial simplicity had given her almost her first experience of +happiness. Then came that ill-omened adventure of the catacomb, The +spectral figure which she encountered there was the evil fate that had +haunted her through life. + +Looking back upon what had happened, Miriam observed, she now considered +him a madman. Insanity must have been mixed up with his original +composition, and developed by those very acts of depravity which it +suggested, and still more intensified, by the remorse that ultimately +followed them. Nothing was stranger in his dark career than the +penitence which often seemed to go hand in hand with crime. Since his +death she had ascertained that it finally led him to a convent, +where his severe and self-inflicted penance had even acquired him the +reputation of unusual sanctity, and had been the cause of his enjoying +greater freedom than is commonly allowed to monks. + +“Need I tell you more?” asked Miriam, after proceeding thus far. “It +is still a dim and dreary mystery, a gloomy twilight into which I guide +you; but possibly you may catch a glimpse of much that I myself can +explain only by conjecture. At all events, you can comprehend what my +situation must have been, after that fatal interview in the catacomb. +My persecutor had gone thither for penance, but followed me forth with +fresh impulses to crime. He had me in his power. Mad as he was, and +wicked as he was, with one word he could have blasted me in the belief +of all the world. In your belief too, and Hilda’s! Even Donatello would +have shrunk from me with horror!” + +“Never,” said Donatello, “my instinct would have known you innocent.” + +“Hilda and Donatello and myself,--we three would have acquitted you,” + said Kenyon, “let the world say what it might. Ah, Miriam, you should +have told us this sad story sooner!” + +“I thought often of revealing it to you,” answered Miriam; “on one +occasion, especially,--it was after you had shown me your Cleopatra; +it seemed to leap out of my heart, and got as far as my very lips. But +finding you cold to accept my confidence, I thrust it back again. Had I +obeyed my first impulse, all would have turned out differently.” + +“And Hilda!” resumed the sculptor. “What can have been her connection +with these dark incidents?” + +“She will, doubtless, tell you with her own lips,” replied Miriam. +“Through sources of information which I possess in Rome, I can assure +you of her safety. In two days more--by the help of the special +Providence that, as I love to tell you, watches over Hilda--she shall +rejoin you.” + +“Still two days more!” murmured the sculptor. + +“Ah, you are cruel now! More cruel than you know!” exclaimed Miriam, +with another gleam of that fantastic, fitful gayety, which had more than +once marked her manner during this interview. “Spare your poor friends!” + +“I know not what you mean, Miriam,” said Kenyon. + +“No matter,” she replied; “you will understand hereafter. But could +you think it? Here is Donatello haunted with strange remorse, and an +unmitigable resolve to obtain what he deems justice upon himself. He +fancies, with a kind of direct simplicity, which I have vainly tried to +combat, that, when a wrong has been done, the doer is bound to submit +himself to whatsoever tribunal takes cognizance of such things, and +abide its judgment. I have assured him that there is no such thing +as earthly justice, and especially none here, under the head of +Christendom.” + +“We will not argue the point again,” said Donatello, smiling. “I have no +head for argument, but only a sense, an impulse, an instinct, I believe, +which sometimes leads me right. But why do we talk now of what may make +us sorrowful? There are still two days more. Let us be happy!” + +It appeared to Kenyon that since he last saw Donatello, some of the +sweet and delightful characteristics of the antique Faun had returned +to him. There were slight, careless graces, pleasant and simple +peculiarities, that had been obliterated by the heavy grief through +which he was passing at Monte Beni, and out of which he had hardly +emerged when the sculptor parted with Miriam and him beneath the bronze +pontiffs outstretched hand. These happy blossoms had now reappeared. A +playfulness came out of his heart, and glimmered like firelight in +his actions, alternating, or even closely intermingled, with profound +sympathy and serious thought. + +“Is he not beautiful?” said Miriam, watching the sculptor’s eye as +it dwelt admiringly on Donatello. “So changed, yet still, in a deeper +sense, so much the same! He has travelled in a circle, as all things +heavenly and earthly do, and now comes back to his original self, with +an inestimable treasure of improvement won from an experience of pain. +How wonderful is this! I tremble at my own thoughts, yet must needs +probe them to their depths. Was the crime--in which he and I were +wedded--was it a blessing, in that strange disguise? Was it a means of +education, bringing a simple and imperfect nature to a point of feeling +and intelligence which it could have reached under no other discipline?” + +“You stir up deep and perilous matter, Miriam,” replied Kenyon. “I dare +not follow you into the unfathomable abysses whither you are tending.” + +“Yet there is a pleasure in them! I delight to brood on the verge of +this great mystery,” returned she. “The story of the fall of man! Is it +not repeated in our romance of Monte Beni? And may we follow the analogy +yet further? Was that very sin,--into which Adam precipitated himself +and all his race, was it the destined means by which, over a long +pathway of toil and sorrow, we are to attain a higher, brighter, and +profounder happiness, than our lost birthright gave? Will not this idea +account for the permitted existence of sin, as no other theory can?” + +“It is too dangerous, Miriam! I cannot follow you!” repeated the +sculptor. “Mortal man has no right to tread on the ground where you now +set your feet.” + +“Ask Hilda what she thinks of it,” said Miriam, with a thoughtful smile. +“At least, she might conclude that sin--which man chose instead of +good--has been so beneficently handled by omniscience and omnipotence, +that, whereas our dark enemy sought to destroy us by it, it has really +become an instrument most effective in the education of intellect and +soul.” + +Miriam paused a little longer among these meditations, which the +sculptor rightly felt to be so perilous; she then pressed his hand, in +token of farewell. + +“The day after to-morrow,” said she, “an hour before sunset, go to the +Corso, and stand in front of the fifth house on your left, beyond the +Antonine column. You will learn tidings of a friend.” + +Kenyon would have besought her for more definite intelligence, but she +shook her head, put her finger on her lips, and turned away with an +illusive smile. The fancy impressed him that she too, like Donatello, +had reached a wayside paradise, in their mysterious life journey, where +they both threw down the burden of the before and after, and, except for +this interview with himself, were happy in the flitting moment. To-day +Donatello was the sylvan Faun; to-day Miriam was his fit companion, +a Nymph of grove or fountain; to-morrow--a remorseful man and woman, +linked by a marriage bond of crime--they would set forth towards an +inevitable goal. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + + +A SCENE IN THE CORSO + + +On the appointed afternoon, Kenyon failed not to make his appearance in +the Corso, and at an hour much earlier than Miriam had named. + +It was carnival time. The merriment of this famous festival was in full +progress; and the stately avenue of the Corso was peopled with hundreds +of fantastic shapes, some of which probably represented the mirth of +ancient times, surviving through all manner of calamity, ever since the +days of the Roman Empire. For a few afternoons of early spring, this +mouldy gayety strays into the sunshine; all the remainder of the +year, it seems to be shut up in the catacombs or some other sepulchral +storehouse of the past. + +Besides these hereditary forms, at which a hundred generations have +laughed, there were others of modern date, the humorous effluence of the +day that was now passing. It is a day, however, and an age, that appears +to be remarkably barren, when compared with the prolific originality +of former times, in productions of a scenic and ceremonial character, +whether grave or gay. To own the truth, the Carnival is alive, this +present year, only because it has existed through centuries gone by. It +is traditionary, not actual. If decrepit and melancholy Rome smiles, +and laughs broadly, indeed, at carnival time, it is not in the old +simplicity of real mirth, but with a half-conscious effort, like our +self-deceptive pretence of jollity at a threadbare joke. Whatever it may +once have been, it is now but a narrow stream of merriment, noisy of set +purpose, running along the middle of the Corso, through the solemn heart +of the decayed city, without extending its shallow influence on either +side. Nor, even within its own limits, does it affect the mass of +spectators, but only a comparatively few, in street and balcony, who +carry on the warfare of nosegays and counterfeit sugar plums. The +populace look on with staid composure; the nobility and priesthood take +little or no part in the matter; and, but for the hordes of Anglo-Saxons +who annually take up the flagging mirth, the Carnival might long ago +have been swept away, with the snowdrifts of confetti that whiten all +the pavement. + +No doubt, however, the worn-out festival is still new to the youthful +and light hearted, who make the worn-out world itself as fresh as Adam +found it on his first forenoon in Paradise. It may be only age and +care that chill the life out of its grotesque and airy riot, with the +impertinence of their cold criticism. + +Kenyon, though young, had care enough within his breast to render the +Carnival the emptiest of mockeries. Contrasting the stern anxiety of his +present mood with the frolic spirit of the preceding year, he fancied +that so much trouble had, at all events, brought wisdom in its train. +But there is a wisdom that looks grave, and sneers at merriment; and +again a deeper wisdom, that stoops to be gay as often as occasion +serves, and oftenest avails itself of shallow and trifling grounds of +mirth; because, if we wait for more substantial ones, we seldom can be +gay at all. Therefore, had it been possible, Kenyon would have done well +to mask himself in some wild, hairy visage, and plunge into the throng +of other maskers, as at the Carnival before. Then Donatello had danced +along the Corso in all the equipment of a Faun, doing the part with +wonderful felicity of execution, and revealing furry ears, which looked +absolutely real; and Miriam had been alternately a lady of the antique +regime, in powder and brocade, and the prettiest peasant girl of the +Campagna, in the gayest of costumes; while Hilda, sitting demurely in a +balcony, had hit the sculptor with a single rosebud,--so sweet and fresh +a bud that he knew at once whose hand had flung it. + +These were all gone; all those dear friends whose sympathetic mirth had +made him gay. Kenyon felt as if an interval of many years had passed +since the last Carnival. He had grown old, the nimble jollity was tame, +and the maskers dull and heavy; the Corso was but a narrow and shabby +street of decaying palaces; and even the long, blue streamer of Italian +sky, above it, not half so brightly blue as formerly. + +Yet, if he could have beheld the scene with his clear, natural eyesight, +he might still have found both merriment and splendor in it. Everywhere, +and all day long, there had been tokens of the festival, in the baskets +brimming over with bouquets, for sale at the street corners, or borne +about on people’s heads; while bushels upon bushels of variously colored +confetti were displayed, looking just like veritable sugar plums; so +that a stranger would have imagined that the whole commerce and business +of stern old Rome lay in flowers and sweets. And now, in the sunny +afternoon, there could hardly be a spectacle more picturesque than the +vista of that noble street, stretching into the interminable distance +between two rows of lofty edifices, from every window of which, and +many a balcony, flaunted gay and gorgeous carpets, bright silks, scarlet +cloths with rich golden fringes, and Gobelin tapestry, still lustrous +with varied hues, though the product of antique looms. Each separate +palace had put on a gala dress, and looked festive for the occasion, +whatever sad or guilty secret it might hide within. Every window, +moreover, was alive with the faces of women, rosy girls, and children, +all kindled into brisk and mirthful expression, by the incidents in the +street below. In the balconies that projected along the palace fronts +stood groups of ladies, some beautiful, all richly dressed, scattering +forth their laughter, shrill, yet sweet, and the musical babble of their +voices, to thicken into an airy tumult over the heads of common mortals. + +All these innumerable eyes looked down into the street, the whole +capacity of which was thronged with festal figures, in such fantastic +variety that it had taken centuries to contrive them; and through the +midst of the mad, merry stream of human life rolled slowly onward a +never-ending procession of all the vehicles in Rome, from the ducal +carriage, with the powdered coachman high in front, and the three golden +lackeys clinging in the rear, down to the rustic cart drawn by its +single donkey. Among this various crowd, at windows and in balconies, in +cart, cab, barouche, or gorgeous equipage, or bustling to and fro afoot, +there was a sympathy of nonsense; a true and genial brotherhood and +sisterhood, based on the honest purpose--and a wise one, too--of being +foolish, all together. The sport of mankind, like its deepest earnest, +is a battle; so these festive people fought one another with an +ammunition of sugar plums and flowers. + +Not that they were veritable sugar plums, however, but something that +resembled them only as the apples of Sodom look like better fruit. +They were concocted mostly of lime, with a grain of oat, or some other +worthless kernel, in the midst. Besides the hailstorm of confetti, the +combatants threw handfuls of flour or lime into the air, where it hung +like smoke over a battlefield, or, descending, whitened a black coat or +priestly robe, and made the curly locks of youth irreverently hoary. + +At the same time with this acrid contest of quicklime, which caused much +effusion of tears from suffering eyes, a gentler warfare of flowers +was carried on, principally between knights and ladies. Originally, no +doubt, when this pretty custom was first instituted, it may have had a +sincere and modest import. Each youth and damsel, gathering bouquets +of field flowers, or the sweetest and fairest that grew in their own +gardens, all fresh and virgin blossoms, flung them with true aim at the +one, or few, whom they regarded with a sentiment of shy partiality at +least, if not with love. Often, the lover in the Corso may thus have +received from his bright mistress, in her father’s princely balcony, +the first sweet intimation that his passionate glances had not struck +against a heart of marble. What more appropriate mode of suggesting +her tender secret could a maiden find than by the soft hit of a rosebud +against a young man’s cheek? + +This was the pastime and the earnest of a more innocent and homelier +age. Nowadays the nosegays are gathered and tied up by sordid hands, +chiefly of the most ordinary flowers, and are sold along the Corso, +at mean price, yet more than such Venal things are worth. Buying a +basketful, you find them miserably wilted, as if they had flown hither +and thither through two or three carnival days already; muddy, too, +having been fished up from the pavement, where a hundred feet have +trampled on them. You may see throngs of men and boys who thrust +themselves beneath the horses’ hoofs to gather up bouquets that were +aimed amiss from balcony and carriage; these they sell again, and yet +once more, and ten times over, defiled as they all are with the wicked +filth of Rome. + +Such are the flowery favors--the fragrant bunches of sentiment--that fly +between cavalier and dame, and back again, from one end of the Corso to +the other. Perhaps they may symbolize, more aptly than was intended, +the poor, battered, wilted hearts of those who fling them; hearts +which--crumpled and crushed by former possessors, and stained with +various mishap--have been passed from hand to hand along the muddy +street-way of life, instead of being treasured in one faithful bosom. + +These venal and polluted flowers, therefore, and those deceptive +bonbons, are types of the small reality that still subsists in the +observance of the Carnival. Yet the government seemed to imagine that +there might be excitement enough,--wild mirth, perchance, following its +antics beyond law, and frisking from frolic into earnest,--to render it +expedient to guard the Corso with an imposing show of military power. +Besides the ordinary force of gendarmes, a strong patrol of papal +dragoons, in steel helmets and white cloaks, were stationed at all the +street corners. Detachments of French infantry stood by their stacked +muskets in the Piazza del Popolo, at one extremity of the course, and +before the palace of the Austrian embassy, at the other, and by the +column of Antoninus, midway between. Had that chained tiger-cat, the +Roman populace, shown only so much as the tip of his claws, the sabres +would have been flashing and the bullets whistling, in right earnest, +among the combatants who now pelted one another with mock sugar plums +and wilted flowers. + +But, to do the Roman people justice, they were restrained by a better +safeguard than the sabre or the bayonet; it was their own gentle +courtesy, which imparted a sort of sacredness to the hereditary +festival. At first sight of a spectacle so fantastic and extravagant, a +cool observer might have imagined the whole town gone mad; but, in the +end, he would see that all this apparently unbounded license is kept +strictly within a limit of its own; he would admire a people who can +so freely let loose their mirthful propensities, while muzzling those +fiercer ones that tend to mischief. Everybody seemed lawless; nobody was +rude. If any reveller overstepped the mark, it was sure to be no Roman, +but an Englishman or an American; and even the rougher play of this +Gothic race was still softened by the insensible influence of a moral +atmosphere more delicate, in some respects, than we breathe at home. Not +that, after all, we like the fine Italian spirit better than our own; +popular rudeness is sometimes the symptom of rude moral health. But, +where a Carnival is in question, it would probably pass off more +decorously, as well as more airily and delightfully, in Rome, than in +any Anglo-Saxon city. + +When Kenyon emerged from a side lane into the Corso, the mirth was at +its height. Out of the seclusion of his own feelings, he looked forth at +the tapestried and damask-curtained palaces, the slow-moving double line +of carriages, and the motley maskers that swarmed on foot, as if he were +gazing through the iron lattice of a prison window. So remote from +the scene were his sympathies, that it affected him like a thin dream, +through the dim, extravagant material of which he could discern more +substantial objects, while too much under its control to start forth +broad awake. Just at that moment, too, there came another spectacle, +making its way right through the masquerading throng. + +It was, first and foremost, a full band of martial music, reverberating, +in that narrow and confined though stately avenue, between the walls of +the lofty palaces, and roaring upward to the sky with melody so powerful +that it almost grew to discord. Next came a body of cavalry and mounted +gendarmes, with great display of military pomp. They were escorting a +long train of equipages, each and all of which shone as gorgeously as +Cinderella’s coach, with paint and gilding. Like that, too, they were +provided with coachmen of mighty breadth, and enormously tall footmen, +in immense powdered wigs, and all the splendor of gold-laced, three +cornered hats, and embroidered silk coats and breeches. By the +old-fashioned magnificence of this procession, it might worthily have +included his Holiness in person, with a suite of attendant Cardinals, +if those sacred dignitaries would kindly have lent their aid to heighten +the frolic of the Carnival. But, for all its show of a martial escort, +and its antique splendor of costume, it was but a train of the municipal +authorities of Rome,--illusive shadows, every one, and among them a +phantom, styled the Roman Senator,--proceeding to the Capitol. + +The riotous interchange of nosegays and confetti was partially +suspended, while the procession passed. One well-directed shot, +however,--it was a double handful of powdered lime, flung by an impious +New Englander,--hit the coachman of the Roman Senator full in the face, +and hurt his dignity amazingly. It appeared to be his opinion that the +Republic was again crumbling into ruin, and that the dust of it now +filled his nostrils; though, in fact, it would hardly be distinguished +from the official powder with which he was already plentifully bestrewn. + +While the sculptor, with his dreamy eyes, was taking idle note of this +trifling circumstance, two figures passed before him, hand in hand. The +countenance of each was covered with an impenetrable black mask; but one +seemed a peasant of the Campagna; the other, a contadina in her holiday +costume. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + + +A FROLIC OF THE CARNIVAL + + +The crowd and confusion, just at that moment, hindered the sculptor from +pursuing these figures,--the peasant and contadina,--who, indeed, were +but two of a numerous tribe that thronged the Corso, in similar costume. +As soon as he could squeeze a passage, Kenyon tried to follow in their +footsteps, but quickly lost sight of them, and was thrown off the track +by stopping to examine various groups of masqueraders, in which he +fancied the objects of his search to be included. He found many a sallow +peasant or herdsman of the Campagna, in such a dress as Donatello +wore; many a contadina, too, brown, broad, and sturdy, in her finery +of scarlet, and decked out with gold or coral beads, a pair of heavy +earrings, a curiously wrought cameo or mosaic brooch, and a silver comb +or long stiletto among her glossy hair. But those shapes of grace and +beauty which he sought had vanished. + +As soon as the procession of the Senator had passed, the merry-makers +resumed their antics with fresh spirit, and the artillery of bouquets +and sugar plums, suspended for a moment, began anew. The sculptor +himself, being probably the most anxious and unquiet spectator there, +was especially a mark for missiles from all quarters, and for the +practical jokes which the license of the Carnival permits. In fact, +his sad and contracted brow so ill accorded with the scene, that the +revellers might be pardoned for thus using him as the butt of their idle +mirth, since he evidently could not otherwise contribute to it. + +Fantastic figures, with bulbous heads, the circumference of a bushel, +grinned enormously in his face. Harlequins struck him with their wooden +swords, and appeared to expect his immediate transformation into some +jollier shape. A little, long-tailed, horned fiend sidled up to him and +suddenly blew at him through a tube, enveloping our poor friend in a +whole harvest of winged seeds. A biped, with an ass’s snout, brayed +close to his ear, ending his discordant uproar with a peal of human +laughter. Five strapping damsels--so, at least, their petticoats bespoke +them, in spite of an awful freedom in the flourish of their legs--joined +hands, and danced around him, inviting him by their gestures to perform +a hornpipe in the midst. Released from these gay persecutors, a clown in +motley rapped him on the back with a blown bladder, in which a handful +of dried peas rattled horribly. + +Unquestionably, a care-stricken mortal has no business abroad, when +the rest of mankind are at high carnival; they must either pelt him +and absolutely martyr him with jests, and finally bury him beneath the +aggregate heap; or else the potency of his darker mood, because the +tissue of human life takes a sad dye more readily than a gay one, will +quell their holiday humors, like the aspect of a death’s-head at a +banquet. Only that we know Kenyon’s errand, we could hardly forgive him +for venturing into the Corso with that troubled face. + +Even yet, his merry martyrdom was not half over. There came along a +gigantic female figure, seven feet high, at least, and taking up a third +of the street’s breadth with the preposterously swelling sphere of +her crinoline skirts. Singling out the sculptor, she began to make a +ponderous assault upon his heart, throwing amorous glances at him out +of her great goggle eyes, offering him a vast bouquet of sunflowers and +nettles, and soliciting his pity by all sorts of pathetic and passionate +dumb-show. Her suit meeting no favor, the rejected Titaness made a +gesture of despair and rage; then suddenly drawing a huge pistol, +she took aim right at the obdurate sculptor’s breast, and pulled the +trigger. The shot took effect, for the abominable plaything went off +by a spring, like a boy’s popgun, covering Kenyon with a cloud of lime +dust, under shelter of which the revengeful damsel strode away. + +Hereupon, a whole host of absurd figures surrounded him, pretending +to sympathize in his mishap. Clowns and party-colored harlequins; +orang-outangs; bear-headed, bull-headed, and dog-headed individuals; +faces that would have been human, but for their enormous noses; one +terrific creature, with a visage right in the centre of his breast; +and all other imaginable kinds of monstrosity and exaggeration. These +apparitions appeared to be investigating the case, after the fashion +of a coroner’s jury, poking their pasteboard countenances close to the +sculptor’s with an unchangeable grin, that gave still more ludicrous +effect to the comic alarm and sorrow of their gestures. Just then, a +figure came by, in a gray wig and rusty gown, with an inkhorn at his +buttonhole and a pen behind his ear; he announced himself as a notary, +and offered to make the last will and testament of the assassinated man. +This solemn duty, however, was interrupted by a surgeon, who brandished +a lancet, three feet long, and proposed to him to let him take blood. + +The affair was so like a feverish dream, that Kenyon resigned himself to +let it take its course. Fortunately the humors of the Carnival pass from +one absurdity to another, without lingering long enough on any, to wear +out even the slightest of them. The passiveness of his demeanor afforded +too little scope for such broad merriment as the masqueraders sought. In +a few moments they vanished from him, as dreams and spectres do, leaving +him at liberty to pursue his quest, with no impediment except the crowd +that blocked up the footway. + +He had not gone far when the peasant and the contadina met him. They +were still hand in hand, and appeared to be straying through the +grotesque and animated scene, taking as little part in it as himself. It +might be because he recognized them, and knew their solemn secret, that +the sculptor fancied a melancholy emotion to be expressed by the very +movement and attitudes of these two figures; and even the grasp of their +hands, uniting them so closely, seemed to set them in a sad remoteness +from the world at which they gazed. + +“I rejoice to meet you,” said Kenyon. But they looked at him through the +eye-holes of their black masks, without answering a word. + +“Pray give me a little light on the matter which I have so much at +heart,” said he; “if you know anything of Hilda, for Heaven’s sake, +speak!” + +Still they were silent; and the sculptor began to imagine that he +must have mistaken the identity of these figures, there being such a +multitude in similar costume. Yet there was no other Donatello, no other +Miriam. He felt, too, that spiritual certainty which impresses us with +the presence of our friends, apart from any testimony of the senses. + +“You are unkind,” resumed he,--“knowing the anxiety which oppresses me, +--not to relieve it, if in your power.” + +The reproach evidently had its effect; for the contadina now spoke, and +it was Miriam’s voice. + +“We gave you all the light we could,” said she. “You are yourself +unkind, though you little think how much so, to come between us at this +hour. There may be a sacred hour, even in carnival time.” + +In another state of mind, Kenyon could have been amused by the +impulsiveness of this response, and a sort of vivacity that he had +often noted in Miriam’s conversation. But he was conscious of a profound +sadness in her tone, overpowering its momentary irritation, and assuring +him that a pale, tear-stained face was hidden behind her mask. + +“Forgive me!” said he. + +Donatello here extended his hand,--not that which was clasping +Miriam’s,--and she, too, put her free one into the sculptor’s left; so +that they were a linked circle of three, with many reminiscences and +forebodings flashing through their hearts. Kenyon knew intuitively that +these once familiar friends were parting with him now. + +“Farewell!” they all three said, in the same breath. + +No sooner was the word spoken, than they loosed their hands; and the +uproar of the Carnival swept like a tempestuous sea over the spot which +they had included within their small circle of isolated feeling. + +By this interview, the sculptor had learned nothing in reference to +Hilda; but he understood that he was to adhere to the instructions +already received, and await a solution of the mystery in some mode +that he could not yet anticipate. Passing his hands over his eyes, and +looking about him,--for the event just described had made the scene even +more dreamlike than before,--he now found himself approaching that broad +piazza bordering on the Corso, which has for its central object the +sculptured column of Antoninus. It was not far from this vicinity +that Miriam had bid him wait. Struggling onward as fast as the tide of +merrymakers, setting strong against him, would permit, he was now beyond +the Palazzo Colonna, and began to count the houses. The fifth was a +palace, with a long front upon the Corso, and of stately height, but +somewhat grim with age. + +Over its arched and pillared entrance there was a balcony, richly hung +with tapestry and damask, and tenanted, for the time, by a gentleman of +venerable aspect and a group of ladies. The white hair and whiskers of +the former, and the winter roses in his cheeks, had an English look; the +ladies, too, showed a fair-haired Saxon bloom, and seemed to taste the +mirth of the Carnival with the freshness of spectators to whom the scene +was new. All the party, the old gentleman with grave earnestness, as if +he were defending a rampart, and his young companions with exuberance of +frolic, showered confetti inexhaustibly upon the passers-by. + +In the rear of the balcony, a broad-brimmed, ecclesiastical beaver was +visible. An abbate, probably an acquaintance and cicerone of the English +family, was sitting there, and enjoying the scene, though partially +withdrawn from view, as the decorum for his order dictated. + +There seemed no better nor other course for Kenyon than to keep watch at +this appointed spot, waiting for whatever should happen next. Clasping +his arm round a lamp-post, to prevent being carried away by the +turbulent stream of wayfarers, he scrutinized every face, with the idea +that some one of them might meet his eyes with a glance of intelligence. +He looked at each mask,--harlequin, ape, bulbous-headed monster, or +anything that was absurdest,--not knowing but that the messenger might +come, even in such fantastic guise. Or perhaps one of those quaint +figures, in the stately ruff, the cloak, tunic, and trunk-hose of three +centuries ago, might bring him tidings of Hilda, out of that long-past +age. At times his disquietude took a hopeful aspect; and he fancied that +Hilda might come by, her own sweet self, in some shy disguise which the +instinct Of his love would be sure to penetrate. Or, she might be +borne past on a triumphal car, like the one just now approaching, its +slow-moving wheels encircled and spoked with foliage, and drawn by +horses, that were harnessed and wreathed with flowers. Being, at best, +so far beyond the bounds of reasonable conjecture, he might anticipate +the wildest event, or find either his hopes or fears disappointed in +what appeared most probable. + +The old Englishman and his daughters, in the opposite balcony, must have +seen something unutterably absurd in the sculptor’s deportment, poring +into this whirlpool of nonsense so earnestly, in quest of what was to +make his life dark or bright. Earnest people, who try to get a reality +out of human existence, are necessarily absurd in the view of the +revellers and masqueraders. At all events, after a good deal of mirth at +the expense of his melancholy visage, the fair occupants of the balcony +favored Kenyon with a salvo of confetti, which came rattling about him +like a hailstorm. Looking up instinctively, he was surprised to see +the abbate in the background lean forward and give a courteous sign of +recognition. + +It was the same old priest with whom he had seen Hilda, at the +confessional; the same with whom he had talked of her disappearance on +meeting him in the street. + +Yet, whatever might be the reason, Kenyon did not now associate this +ecclesiastical personage with the idea of Hilda. His eyes lighted on the +old man, just for an instant, and then returned to the eddying throng of +the Corso, on his minute scrutiny of which depended, for aught he knew, +the sole chance of ever finding any trace of her. There was, about this +moment, a bustle on the other side of the street, the cause of which +Kenyon did not see, nor exert himself to discover. A small party of +soldiers or gendarmes appeared to be concerned in it; they were perhaps +arresting some disorderly character, who, under the influence of an +extra flask of wine, might have reeled across the mystic limitation of +carnival proprieties. + +The sculptor heard some people near him talking of the incident. + +“That contadina, in a black mask, was a fine figure of a woman.” + +“She was not amiss,” replied a female voice; “but her companion was far +the handsomer figure of the two. Could they be really a peasant and a +contadina, do you imagine?” + +“No, no,” said the other. “It is some frolic of the Carnival, carried a +little too far.” + +This conversation might have excited Kenyon’s interest; only that, just +as the last words were spoken, he was hit by two missiles, both of a +kind that were flying abundantly on that gay battlefield. One, we are +ashamed to say, was a cauliflower, which, flung by a young man from a +passing carriage, came with a prodigious thump against his shoulder; +the other was a single rosebud, so fresh that it seemed that moment +gathered. It flew from the opposite balcony, smote gently on his lips, +and fell into his hand. He looked upward, and beheld the face of his +lost Hilda! + +She was dressed in a white domino, and looked pale and bewildered, +and yet full of tender joy. Moreover, there was a gleam of delicate +mirthfulness in her eyes, which the sculptor had seen there only two or +three times in the course of their acquaintance, but thought it the most +bewitching and fairylike of all Hilda’s expressions. That soft, mirthful +smile caused her to melt, as it were, into the wild frolic of the +Carnival, and become not so strange and alien to the scene, as her +unexpected apparition must otherwise have made her. + +Meanwhile, the venerable Englishman and his daughters were staring at +poor Hilda in a way that proved them altogether astonished, as well +as inexpressibly shocked, by her sudden intrusion into their private +balcony. They looked,--as, indeed, English people of respectability +would, if an angel were to alight in their circle, without due +introduction from somebody whom they knew, in the court above,--they +looked as if an unpardonable liberty had been taken, and a suitable +apology must be made; after which, the intruder would be expected to +withdraw. + +The abbate, however, drew the old gentleman aside, and whispered a few +words that served to mollify him; he bestowed on Hilda a sufficiently +benignant, though still a perplexed and questioning regard, and invited +her, in dumb-show, to put herself at her ease. + +But, whoever was in fault, our shy and gentle Hilda had dreamed of no +intrusion. Whence she had come, or where she had been hidden, during +this mysterious interval, we can but imperfectly surmise, and do not +mean, at present, to make it a matter of formal explanation with the +reader. It is better, perhaps, to fancy that she had been snatched away +to a land of picture; that she had been straying with Claude in the +golden light which he used to shed over his landscapes, but which he +could never have beheld with his waking eyes till he awoke in the better +clime. We will imagine that, for the sake of the true simplicity +with which she loved them, Hilda had been permitted, for a season, to +converse with the great, departed masters of the pencil, and behold +the diviner works which they have painted in heavenly colors. Guido had +shown her another portrait of Beatrice Cenci, done from the celestial +life, in which that forlorn mystery of the earthly countenance was +exchanged for a radiant joy. Perugino had allowed her a glimpse at his +easel, on which she discerned what seemed a woman’s face, but so divine, +by the very depth and softness of its womanhood, that a gush of happy +tears blinded the maiden’s eyes before she had time to look. Raphael +had taken Hilda by the hand, that fine, forcible hand which Kenyon +sculptured,--and drawn aside the curtain of gold-fringed cloud that +hung before his latest masterpiece. On earth, Raphael painted the +Transfiguration. What higher scene may he have since depicted, not from +imagination, but as revealed to his actual sight! + +Neither will we retrace the steps by which she returned to the actual +world. For the present, be it enough to say that Hilda had been summoned +forth from a secret place, and led we know not through what mysterious +passages, to a point where the tumult of life burst suddenly upon her +ears. She heard the tramp of footsteps, the rattle of wheels, and the +mingled hum of a multitude of voices, with strains of music and loud +laughter breaking through. Emerging into a great, gloomy hall, a +curtain was drawn aside; she found herself gently propelled into an +open balcony, whence she looked out upon the festal street, with gay +tapestries flaunting over all the palace fronts, the windows thronged +with merry faces, and a crowd of maskers rioting upon the pavement +below. + +Immediately she seemed to become a portion of the scene. Her pale, +large-eyed, fragile beauty, her wondering aspect and bewildered grace, +attracted the gaze of many; and there fell around her a shower of +bouquets and bonbons--freshest blossoms and sweetest sugar plums, sweets +to the sweet--such as the revellers of the Carnival reserve as tributes +to especial loveliness. Hilda pressed her hand across her brow; she let +her eyelids fall, and, lifting them again, looked through the grotesque +and gorgeous show, the chaos of mad jollity, in quest of some object +by which she might assure herself that the whole spectacle was not an +illusion. + +Beneath the balcony, she recognized a familiar and fondly remembered +face. The spirit of the hour and the scene exercised its influence over +her quick and sensitive nature; she caught up one of the rosebuds that +had been showered upon her, and aimed it at the sculptor; It hit the +mark; he turned his sad eyes upward, and there was Hilda, in whose +gentle presence his own secret sorrow and the obtrusive uproar of the +Carnival alike died away from his perception. + +That night, the lamp beneath the Virgin’s shrine burned as brightly as +if it had never been extinguished; and though the one faithful dove had +gone to her melancholy perch, she greeted Hilda rapturously the next +morning, and summoned her less constant companions, whithersoever they +had flown, to renew their homage. + + + + + +CHAPTER L + + +MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + + +The gentle reader, we trust, would not thank us for one of those minute +elucidations, which are so tedious, and, after all, so unsatisfactory, +in clearing up the romantic mysteries of a story. He is too wise to +insist upon looking closely at the wrong side of the tapestry, after the +right one has been sufficiently displayed to him, woven with the best of +the artist’s skill, and cunningly arranged with a view to the harmonious +exhibition of its colors. If any brilliant, or beautiful, or even +tolerable effect have been produced, this pattern of kindly readers will +accept it at its worth, without tearing its web apart, with the idle +purpose of discovering how the threads have been knit together; for the +sagacity by which he is distinguished will long ago have taught him that +any narrative of human action and adventure whether we call it history +or romance--is certain to be a fragile handiwork, more easily rent than +mended. The actual experience of even the most ordinary life is full of +events that never explain themselves, either as regards their origin or +their tendency. + +It would be easy, from conversations which we have held with the +sculptor, to suggest a clew to the mystery of Hilda’s disappearance; +although, as long as she remained in Italy, there was a remarkable +reserve in her communications upon this subject, even to her most +intimate friends. Either a pledge of secrecy had been exacted, or a +prudential motive warned her not to reveal the stratagems of a religious +body, or the secret acts of a despotic government--whichever might be +responsible in the present instance--while still within the scope of +their jurisdiction. Possibly, she might not herself be fully aware what +power had laid its grasp upon her person. What has chiefly perplexed us, +however, among Hilda’s adventures, is the mode of her release, in which +some inscrutable tyranny or other seemed to take part in the frolic of +the Carnival. We can only account for it, by supposing that the fitful +and fantastic imagination of a woman--sportive, because she must +otherwise be desperate--had arranged this incident, and made it the +condition of a step which her conscience, or the conscience of another, +required her to take. + +A few days after Hilda’s reappearance, she and the sculptor were +straying together through the streets of Rome. Being deep in talk, it so +happened that they found themselves near the majestic, pillared portico, +and huge, black rotundity of the Pantheon. It stands almost at the +central point of the labyrinthine intricacies of the modern city, and +often presents itself before the bewildered stranger, when he is in +search of other objects. Hilda, looking up, proposed that they should +enter. + +“I never pass it without going in,” she said, “to pay my homage at the +tomb of Raphael.” + +“Nor I,” said Kenyon, “without stopping to admire the noblest edifice +which the barbarism of the early ages, and the more barbarous pontiffs +and princes of later ones, have spared to us.” + +They went in accordingly, and stood in the free space of that great +circle, around which are ranged the arched recesses and stately altars, +formerly dedicated to heathen gods, but Christianized through twelve +centuries gone by. The world has nothing else like the Pantheon. So +grand it is, that the pasteboard statues over the lofty cornice do not +disturb the effect, any more than the tin crowns and hearts, the dusty +artificial flowers, and all manner of trumpery gew-gaws, hanging at the +saintly shrines. The rust and dinginess that have dimmed the precious +marble on the walls; the pavement, with its great squares and rounds +of porphyry and granite, cracked crosswise and in a hundred directions, +showing how roughly the troublesome ages have trampled here; the gray +dome above, with its opening to the sky, as if heaven were looking down +into the interior of this place of worship, left unimpeded for prayers +to ascend the more freely; all these things make an impression of +solemnity, which St. Peter’s itself fails to produce. + +“I think,” said the sculptor, “it is to the aperture in the dome--that +great Eye, gazing heavenward that the Pantheon owes the peculiarity of +its effect. It is so heathenish, as it were,--so unlike all the snugness +of our modern civilization! Look, too, at the pavement, directly beneath +the open space! So much rain has fallen there, in the last two thousand +years, that it is green with small, fine moss, such as grows over +tombstones in a damp English churchyard.” + +“I like better,” replied Hilda, “to look at the bright, blue sky, +roofing the edifice where the builders left it open. It is very +delightful, in a breezy day, to see the masses of white cloud float over +the opening, and then the sunshine fall through it again, fitfully, as +it does now. Would it be any wonder if we were to see angels hovering +there, partly in and partly out, with genial, heavenly faces, not +intercepting the light, but only transmuting it into beautiful colors? +Look at that broad, golden beam--a sloping cataract of sunlight--which +comes down from the aperture and rests upon the shrine, at the right +hand of the entrance!” + +“There is a dusky picture over that altar,” observed the sculptor. “Let +us go and see if this strong illumination brings out any merit in it.” + +Approaching the shrine, they found the picture little worth looking at, +but could not forbear smiling, to see that a very plump and comfortable +tabby-cat--whom we ourselves have often observed haunting the +Pantheon--had established herself on the altar, in the genial sunbeam, +and was fast asleep among the holy tapers. Their footsteps disturbing +her, she awoke, raised herself, and sat blinking in the sun, yet with a +certain dignity and self-possession, as if conscious of representing a +saint. + +“I presume,” remarked Kenyon, “that this is the first of the feline race +that has ever set herself up as an object of worship, in the Pantheon or +elsewhere, since the days of ancient Egypt. See; there is a peasant from +the neighboring market, actually kneeling to her! She seems a gracious +and benignant saint enough.” + +“Do not make me laugh,” said Hilda reproachfully, “but help me to drive +the creature away. It distresses me to see that poor man, or any human +being, directing his prayers so much amiss.” + +“Then, Hilda,” answered the sculptor more seriously, “the only Place +in the Pantheon for you and me to kneel is on the pavement beneath +the central aperture. If we pray at a saint’s shrine, we shall give +utterance to earthly wishes; but if we pray face to face with the +Deity, we shall feel it impious to petition for aught that is narrow and +selfish. Methinks it is this that makes the Catholics so delight in the +worship of saints; they can bring up all their little worldly wants and +whims, their individualities and human weaknesses, not as things to be +repented of, but to be humored by the canonized humanity to which they +pray. Indeed, it is very tempting!” + +What Hilda might have answered must be left to conjecture; for as she +turned from the shrine, her eyes were attracted to the figure of a +female penitent, kneeling on the pavement just beneath the great central +eye, in the very spot which Kenyon had designated as the only one whence +prayers should ascend. The upturned face was invisible, behind a veil or +mask, which formed a part of the garb. + +“It cannot be!” whispered Hilda, with emotion. “No; it cannot be!” + +“What disturbs you?” asked Kenyon. “Why do you tremble so?” + +“If it were possible,” she replied, “I should fancy that kneeling figure +to be Miriam!” + +“As you say, it is impossible,” rejoined the sculptor; “We know too +well what has befallen both her and Donatello.” “Yes; it is impossible!” + repeated Hilda. Her voice was still tremulous, however, and she seemed +unable to withdraw her attention from the kneeling figure. Suddenly, +and as if the idea of Miriam had opened the whole volume of Hilda’s +reminiscences, she put this question to the sculptor: “Was Donatello +really a Faun?” + +“If you had ever studied the pedigree of the far-descended heir of Monte +Beni, as I did,” answered Kenyon, with an irrepressible smile, “you +would have retained few doubts on that point. Faun or not, he had a +genial nature, which, had the rest of mankind been in accordance with +it, would have made earth a paradise to our poor friend. It seems +the moral of his story, that human beings of Donatello’s character, +compounded especially for happiness, have no longer any business on +earth, or elsewhere. Life has grown so sadly serious, that such men must +change their nature, or else perish, like the antediluvian creatures +that required, as the condition of their existence, a more summer-like +atmosphere than ours.” + +“I will not accept your moral!” replied the hopeful and happy-natured +Hilda. + +“Then here is another; take your choice!” said the sculptor, remembering +what Miriam had recently suggested, in reference to the same point. “He +perpetrated a great crime; and his remorse, gnawing into his soul, +has awakened it; developing a thousand high capabilities, moral and +intellectual, which we never should have dreamed of asking for, within +the scanty compass of the Donatello whom we knew.” + +“I know not whether this is so,” said Hilda. “But what then?” + +“Here comes my perplexity,” continued Kenyon. “Sin has educated +Donatello, and elevated him. Is sin, then,--which we deem such a +dreadful blackness in the universe,--is it, like sorrow, merely an +element of human education, through which we struggle to a higher and +purer state than we could otherwise have attained? Did Adam fall, that +we might ultimately rise to a far loftier paradise than his?” “O hush!” + cried Hilda, shrinking from him with an expression of horror which +wounded the poor, speculative sculptor to the soul. “This is terrible; +and I could weep for you, if you indeed believe it. Do not you perceive +what a mockery your creed makes, not only of all religious sentiments, +but of moral law? And how it annuls and obliterates whatever precepts of +Heaven are written deepest within us? You have shocked me beyond words!” + +“Forgive me, Hilda!” exclaimed the sculptor, startled by her agitation; +“I never did believe it! But the mind wanders wild and wide; and, so +lonely as I live and work, I have neither pole-star above nor light +of cottage windows here below, to bring me home. Were you my guide, my +counsellor, my inmost friend, with that white wisdom which clothes you +as a celestial garment, all would go well. O Hilda, guide me home!” + +“We are both lonely; both far from home!” said Hilda, her eyes filling +with tears. “I am a poor, weak girl, and have no such wisdom as you +fancy in me.” + +What further may have passed between these lovers, while standing before +the pillared shrine, and the marble Madonna that marks Raphael’s tomb; +whither they had now wandered, we are unable to record. But when the +kneeling figure beneath the open eye of the Pantheon arose, she looked +towards the pair and extended her hands with a gesture of benediction. +Then they knew that it was Miriam. They suffered her to glide out of +the portal, however, without a greeting; for those extended hands, even +while they blessed, seemed to repel, as if Miriam stood on the other +side of a fathomless abyss, and warned them from its verge. + +So Kenyon won the gentle Hilda’s shy affection, and her consent to +be his bride. Another hand must henceforth trim the lamp before the +Virgin’s shrine; for Hilda was coming down from her old tower, to be +herself enshrined and worshipped as a household saint, in the light of +her husband’s fireside. And, now that life had so much human promise in +it, they resolved to go back to their own land; because the years, +after all, have a kind of emptiness, when we spend too many of them on +a foreign shore. We defer the reality of life, in such cases, until a +future moment, when we shall again breathe our native air; but, by and +by, there are no future moments; or, if we do return, we find that the +native air has lost its invigorating quality, and that life has shifted +its reality to the spot where we have deemed ourselves only temporary +residents. Thus, between two countries, we have none at all, or +only that little space of either in which we finally lay down our +discontented bones. It is wise, therefore, to come back betimes, or +never. + +Before they quitted Rome, a bridal gift was laid on Hilda’s table. It +was a bracelet, evidently of great cost, being composed of seven ancient +Etruscan gems, dug out of seven sepulchres, and each one of them the +signet of some princely personage, who had lived an immemorial time ago. +Hilda remembered this precious ornament. It had been Miriam’s; and once, +with the exuberance of fancy that distinguished her, she had amused +herself with telling a mythical and magic legend for each gem, +comprising the imaginary adventures and catastrophe of its former +wearer. Thus the Etruscan bracelet became the connecting bond of a +series of seven wondrous tales, all of which, as they were dug out of +seven sepulchres, were characterized by a sevenfold sepulchral gloom; +such as Miriam’s imagination, shadowed by her own misfortunes, was wont +to fling over its most sportive flights. + +And now, happy as Hilda was, the bracelet brought the tears into her +eyes, as being, in its entire circle, the symbol of as sad a mystery +as any that Miriam had attached to the separate gems. For, what was +Miriam’s life to be? And where was Donatello? But Hilda had a hopeful +soul, and saw sunlight on the mountain-tops. + + + + + +CONCLUSION + +There comes to the author, from many readers of the foregoing pages, a +demand for further elucidations respecting the mysteries of the story. + +He reluctantly avails himself of the opportunity afforded by a new +edition, to explain such incidents and passages as may have been left +too much in the dark; reluctantly, he repeats, because the necessity +makes him sensible that he can have succeeded but imperfectly, at best, +in throwing about this Romance the kind of atmosphere essential to the +effect at which he aimed. + +He designed the story and the characters to bear, of course, a certain +relation to human nature and human life, but still to be so artfully and +airily removed from our mundane sphere, that some laws and proprieties +of their own should be implicitly and insensibly acknowledged. + +The idea of the modern Faun, for example, loses all the poetry and +beauty which the Author fancied in it, and becomes nothing better than a +grotesque absurdity, if we bring it into the actual light of day. He +had hoped to mystify this anomalous creature between the Real and +the Fantastic, in such a manner that the reader’s sympathies might be +excited to a certain pleasurable degree, without impelling him to ask +how Cuvier would have classified poor Donatello, or to insist upon being +told, in so many words, whether he had furry ears or no. As respects all +who ask such questions, the book is, to that extent, a failure. + +Nevertheless, the Author fortunately has it in his power to throw light +upon several matters in which some of his readers appear to feel an +interest. To confess the truth, he was himself troubled with a curiosity +similar to that which he has just deprecated on the part of his readers, +and once took occasion to cross-examine his friends, Hilda and the +sculptor, and to pry into several dark recesses of the story, with which +they had heretofore imperfectly acquainted him. + +We three had climbed to the top of St. Peter’s, and were looking down +upon the Rome we were soon to leave, but which (having already sinned +sufficiently in that way) it is not my purpose further to describe. It +occurred to me, that, being so remote in the upper air, my friends might +safely utter here the secrets which it would be perilous even to whisper +on lower earth. + +“Hilda,” I began, “can you tell me the contents of that mysterious +packet which Miriam entrusted to your charge, and which was addressed to +Signore Luca Barboni, at the Palazzo Cenci?” + +“I never had any further knowledge of it,” replied Hilda, “nor felt it +right to let myself be curious upon the subject.” + +“As to its precise contents,” interposed Kenyon, “it is impossible to +speak. But Miriam, isolated as she seemed, had family connections in +Rome, one of whom, there is reason to believe, occupied a position in +the papal government. + +“This Signore Luca Barboni was either the assumed name of the personage +in question, or the medium of communication between that individual and +Miriam. Now, under such a government as that of Rome, it is obvious that +Miriam’s privacy and isolated life could only be maintained through the +connivance and support of some influential person connected with the +administration of affairs. Free and self-controlled as she appeared, her +every movement was watched and investigated far more thoroughly by the +priestly rulers than by her dearest friends. + +“Miriam, if I mistake not, had a purpose to withdraw herself from this +irksome scrutiny, and to seek real obscurity in another land; and the +packet, to be delivered long after her departure, contained a reference +to this design, besides certain family documents, which were to be +imparted to her relative as from one dead and gone.” + +“Yes, it is clear as a London fog,” I remarked. “On this head no further +elucidation can be desired. But when Hilda went quietly to deliver the +packet, why did she so mysteriously vanish?” + +“You must recollect,” replied Kenyon, with a glance of friendly +commiseration at my obtuseness, “that Miriam had utterly disappeared, +leaving no trace by which her whereabouts could be known. In the +meantime, the municipal authorities had become aware of the murder +of the Capuchin; and from many preceding circumstances, such as his +persecution of Miriam, they must have seen an obvious connection between +herself and that tragical event. Furthermore, there is reason to believe +that Miriam was suspected of connection with some plot, or political +intrigue, of which there may have been tokens in the packet. And when +Hilda appeared as the bearer of this missive, it was really quite +a matter of course, under a despotic government, that she should be +detained.” + +“Ah, quite a matter of course, as you say,” answered I. “How excessively +stupid in me not to have seen it sooner! But there are other riddles. +On the night of the extinction of the lamp, you met Donatello, in a +penitent’s garb, and afterwards saw and spoke to Miriam, in a coach, +with a gem glowing on her bosom. What was the business of these two +guilty ones in Rome, and who was Miriam’s companion?” + +“Who!” repeated Kenyon, “why, her official relative, to be sure; and +as to their business, Donatello’s still gnawing remorse had brought him +hitherward, in spite of Miriam’s entreaties, and kept him lingering +in the neighborhood of Rome, with the ultimate purpose of delivering +himself up to justice. Hilda’s disappearance, which took place the day +before, was known to them through a secret channel, and had brought them +into the city, where Miriam, as I surmise, began to make arrangements, +even then, for that sad frolic of the Carnival.” + +“And where was Hilda all that dreary time between?” inquired I. + +“Where were you, Hilda?” asked Kenyon, smiling. + +Hilda threw her eyes on all sides, and seeing that there was not even a +bird of the air to fly away with the secret, nor any human being nearer +than the loiterers by the obelisk in the piazza below, she told us about +her mysterious abode. + +“I was a prisoner in the Convent of the Sacre Coeur, in the Trinita +de Monte,” said she, “but in such kindly custody of pious maidens, and +watched over by such a dear old priest, that--had it not been for one +or two disturbing recollections, and also because I am a daughter of the +Puritans I could willingly have dwelt there forever. + +“My entanglement with Miriam’s misfortunes, and the good abbate’s +mistaken hope of a proselyte, seem to me a sufficient clew to the whole +mystery.” + +“The atmosphere is getting delightfully lucid,” observed I, “but there +are one or two things that still puzzle me. Could you tell me--and it +shall be kept a profound secret, I assure you what were Miriam’s real +name and rank, and precisely the nature of the troubles that led to all +those direful consequences?” + +“Is it possible that you need an answer to those questions?” exclaimed +Kenyon, with an aspect of vast surprise. “Have you not even surmised +Miriam’s name? Think awhile, and you will assuredly remember it. If not, +I congratulate you most sincerely; for it indicates that your feelings +have never been harrowed by one of the most dreadful and mysterious +events that have occurred within the present century!” + +“Well,” resumed I, after an interval of deep consideration, “I have but +few things more to ask. Where, at this moment, is Donatello?” + +“The Castle of Saint Angelo,” said Kenyon sadly, turning his face +towards that sepulchral fortress, “is no longer a prison; but there are +others which have dungeons as deep, and in one of them, I fear, lies our +poor Faun.” + +“And why, then, is Miriam at large?” I asked. + +“Call it cruelty if you like, not mercy,” answered Kenyon. “But, after +all, her crime lay merely in a glance. She did no murder!” + +“Only one question more,” said I, with intense earnestness. “Did +Donatello’s ears resemble those of the Faun of Praxiteles?” + +“I know, but may not tell,” replied Kenyon, smiling mysteriously. “On +that point, at all events, there shall be not one word of explanation.” + +Leamington, March 14, 1860. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Marble Faun, Volume II., by Nathaniel Hawthorne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARBLE FAUN, VOLUME II. *** + +***** This file should be named 2182-0.txt or 2182-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/8/2182/ + +Produced by Michael Pullen and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/2182-0.zip b/2182-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..649c878 --- /dev/null +++ b/2182-0.zip diff --git a/2182-h.zip b/2182-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f205e6e --- /dev/null +++ b/2182-h.zip diff --git a/2182-h/2182-h.htm b/2182-h/2182-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b279ae5 --- /dev/null +++ b/2182-h/2182-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9392 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Marble Faun, Volume II. by Nathaniel Hawthorne + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Marble Faun, Volume II., by Nathaniel Hawthorne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Marble Faun, Volume II. + The Romance of Monte Beni + +Author: Nathaniel Hawthorne + +Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #2182] +Last Updated: December 15, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARBLE FAUN, VOLUME II. *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Pullen and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE MARBLE FAUN, + </h1> + <h2> + or The Romance of Monte Beni + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Volume II. In Two Volumes + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>THE MARBLE FAUN, VOLUME II.</b></big> + </a> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER XXIV </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> + CHAPTER XXV </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER XXVI </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER XXVII </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> + CHAPTER XXIX </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER XXX </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER XXXI </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> + CHAPTER XXXII </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XXXV </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> + CHAPTER XXXVI </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XXXVII </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XXXVIII </a> <br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XXXIX </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XL </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> + CHAPTER XLI </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XLII </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XLIII </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XLIV </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> + CHAPTER XLV </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XLVI </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XLVII </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XLVIII </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> + CHAPTER XLIX </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER L </a> + </td> + <td> + THE TOWER AMONG THE APENNINES <br /> SUNSHINE <br /> THE PEDIGREE OF + MONTE BENI <br /> MYTHS <br /> THE OWL TOWER <br /> ON THE BATTLEMENTS + <br /> DONATELLO’S BUST <br /> THE MARBLE SALOON <br /> SCENES BY THE WAY + <br /> PICTURED WINDOWS <br /> MARKET-DAY IN PERUGIA <br /> THE BRONZE + PONTIFF’S BENEDICTION <br /> HILDA’S TOWER <br /> THE EMPTINESS OF + PICTURE GALLERIES <br /> ALTARS AND INCENSE <br /> THE WORLD’S CATHEDRAL + <br /> HILDA AND A FRIEND <br /> SNOWDROPS AND MAIDENLY DELIGHTS <br /> + REMINISCENCES OF MIRIAM <br /> THE EXTINCTION OF A LAMP <br /> THE + DESERTED SHRINE <br /> THE FLIGHT OF HILDA’S DOVES <br /> A WALK ON THE + CAMPAGNA <br /> THE PEASANT AND CONTADINA <br /> A SCENE IN THE CORSO + <br /> A FROLIC OF THE CARNIVAL <br /> MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_CONC"> CONCLUSION </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE MARBLE FAUN + </h1> + <h3> + Volume II + </h3> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <h3> + THE TOWER AMONG THE APENNINES + </h3> + <p> + It was in June that the sculptor, Kenyon, arrived on horseback at the gate + of an ancient country house (which, from some of its features, might + almost be called a castle) situated in a part of Tuscany somewhat remote + from the ordinary track of tourists. Thither we must now accompany him, + and endeavor to make our story flow onward, like a streamlet, past a gray + tower that rises on the hillside, overlooking a spacious valley, which is + set in the grand framework of the Apennines. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor had left Rome with the retreating tide of foreign residents. + For, as summer approaches, the Niobe of Nations is made to bewail anew, + and doubtless with sincerity, the loss of that large part of her + population which she derives from other lands, and on whom depends much of + whatever remnant of prosperity she still enjoys. Rome, at this season, is + pervaded and overhung with atmospheric terrors, and insulated within a + charmed and deadly circle. The crowd of wandering tourists betake + themselves to Switzerland, to the Rhine, or, from this central home of the + world, to their native homes in England or America, which they are apt + thenceforward to look upon as provincial, after once having yielded to the + spell of the Eternal City. The artist, who contemplates an indefinite + succession of winters in this home of art (though his first thought was + merely to improve himself by a brief visit), goes forth, in the summer + time, to sketch scenery and costume among the Tuscan hills, and pour, if + he can, the purple air of Italy over his canvas. He studies the old + schools of art in the mountain towns where they were born, and where they + are still to be seen in the faded frescos of Giotto and Cimabue, on the + walls of many a church, or in the dark chapels, in which the sacristan + draws aside the veil from a treasured picture of Perugino. Thence, the + happy painter goes to walk the long, bright galleries of Florence, or to + steal glowing colors from the miraculous works, which he finds in a score + of Venetian palaces. Such summers as these, spent amid whatever is + exquisite in art, or wild and picturesque in nature, may not inadequately + repay him for the chill neglect and disappointment through which he has + probably languished, in his Roman winter. This sunny, shadowy, breezy, + wandering life, in which he seeks for beauty as his treasure, and gathers + for his winter’s honey what is but a passing fragrance to all other men, + is worth living for, come afterwards what may. Even if he die + unrecognized, the artist has had his share of enjoyment and success. + </p> + <p> + Kenyon had seen, at a distance of many miles, the old villa or castle + towards which his journey lay, looking from its height over a broad + expanse of valley. As he drew nearer, however, it had been hidden among + the inequalities of the hillside, until the winding road brought him + almost to the iron gateway. The sculptor found this substantial barrier + fastened with lock and bolt. There was no bell, nor other instrument of + sound; and, after summoning the invisible garrison with his voice, instead + of a trumpet, he had leisure to take a glance at the exterior of the + fortress. + </p> + <p> + About thirty yards within the gateway rose a square tower, lofty enough to + be a very prominent object in the landscape, and more than sufficiently + massive in proportion to its height. Its antiquity was evidently such + that, in a climate of more abundant moisture, the ivy would have mantled + it from head to foot in a garment that might, by this time, have been + centuries old, though ever new. In the dry Italian air, however, Nature + had only so far adopted this old pile of stonework as to cover almost + every hand’s-breadth of it with close-clinging lichens and yellow moss; + and the immemorial growth of these kindly productions rendered the general + hue of the tower soft and venerable, and took away the aspect of nakedness + which would have made its age drearier than now. + </p> + <p> + Up and down the height of the tower were scattered three or four windows, + the lower ones grated with iron bars, the upper ones vacant both of window + frames and glass. Besides these larger openings, there were several + loopholes and little square apertures, which might be supposed to light + the staircase, that doubtless climbed the interior towards the + battlemented and machicolated summit. With this last-mentioned warlike + garniture upon its stern old head and brow, the tower seemed evidently a + stronghold of times long past. Many a crossbowman had shot his shafts from + those windows and loop-holes, and from the vantage height of those gray + battlements; many a flight of arrows, too, had hit all round about the + embrasures above, or the apertures below, where the helmet of a defender + had momentarily glimmered. On festal nights, moreover, a hundred lamps had + often gleamed afar over the valley, suspended from the iron hooks that + were ranged for the purpose beneath the battlements and every window. + </p> + <p> + Connected with the tower, and extending behind it, there seemed to be a + very spacious residence, chiefly of more modern date. It perhaps owed much + of its fresher appearance, however, to a coat of stucco and yellow wash, + which is a sort of renovation very much in vogue with the Italians. Kenyon + noticed over a doorway, in the portion of the edifice immediately adjacent + to the tower, a cross, which, with a bell suspended above the roof, + indicated that this was a consecrated precinct, and the chapel of the + mansion. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the hot sun so incommoded the unsheltered traveller, that he + shouted forth another impatient summons. Happening, at the same moment, to + look upward, he saw a figure leaning from an embrasure of the battlements, + and gazing down at him. + </p> + <p> + “Ho, Signore Count!” cried the sculptor, waving his straw hat, for he + recognized the face, after a moment’s doubt. “This is a warm reception, + truly! Pray bid your porter let me in, before the sun shrivels me quite + into a cinder.” + </p> + <p> + “I will come myself,” responded Donatello, flinging down his voice out of + the clouds, as it were; “old Tomaso and old Stella are both asleep, no + doubt, and the rest of the people are in the vineyard. But I have expected + you, and you are welcome!” + </p> + <p> + The young Count—as perhaps we had better designate him in his + ancestral tower—vanished from the battlements; and Kenyon saw his + figure appear successively at each of the windows, as he descended. On + every reappearance, he turned his face towards the sculptor and gave a nod + and smile; for a kindly impulse prompted him thus to assure his visitor of + a welcome, after keeping him so long at an inhospitable threshold. + </p> + <p> + Kenyon, however (naturally and professionally expert at reading the + expression of the human countenance), had a vague sense that this was not + the young friend whom he had known so familiarly in Rome; not the sylvan + and untutored youth, whom Miriam, Hilda, and himself had liked, laughed + at, and sported with; not the Donatello whose identity they had so + playfully mixed up with that of the Faun of Praxiteles. + </p> + <p> + Finally, when his host had emerged from a side portal of the mansion, and + approached the gateway, the traveller still felt that there was something + lost, or something gained (he hardly knew which), that set the Donatello + of to-day irreconcilably at odds with him of yesterday. His very gait + showed it, in a certain gravity, a weight and measure of step, that had + nothing in common with the irregular buoyancy which used to distinguish + him. His face was paler and thinner, and the lips less full and less + apart. + </p> + <p> + “I have looked for you a long while,” said Donatello; and, though his + voice sounded differently, and cut out its words more sharply than had + been its wont, still there was a smile shining on his face, that, for the + moment, quite brought back the Faun. “I shall be more cheerful, perhaps, + now that you have come. It is very solitary here.” + </p> + <p> + “I have come slowly along, often lingering, often turning aside,” replied + Kenyon; “for I found a great deal to interest me in the mediaeval + sculpture hidden away in the churches hereabouts. An artist, whether + painter or sculptor, may be pardoned for loitering through such a region. + But what a fine old tower! Its tall front is like a page of black letter, + taken from the history of the Italian republics.” + </p> + <p> + “I know little or nothing of its history,” said the Count, glancing upward + at the battlements, where he had just been standing. “But I thank my + forefathers for building it so high. I like the windy summit better than + the world below, and spend much of my time there, nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a pity you are not a star-gazer,” observed Kenyon, also looking up. + “It is higher than Galileo’s tower, which I saw, a week or two ago, + outside of the walls of Florence.” + </p> + <p> + “A star-gazer? I am one,” replied Donatello. “I sleep in the tower, and + often watch very late on the battlements. There is a dismal old staircase + to climb, however, before reaching the top, and a succession of dismal + chambers, from story to story. Some of them were prison chambers in times + past, as old Tomaso will tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The repugnance intimated in his tone at the idea of this gloomy staircase + and these ghostly, dimly lighted rooms, reminded Kenyon of the original + Donatello, much more than his present custom of midnight vigils on the + battlements. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be glad to share your watch,” said the guest; “especially by + moonlight. The prospect of this broad valley must be very fine. But I was + not aware, my friend, that these were your country habits. I have fancied + you in a sort of Arcadian life, tasting rich figs, and squeezing the juice + out of the sunniest grapes, and sleeping soundly all night, after a day of + simple pleasures.” + </p> + <p> + “I may have known such a life, when I was younger,” answered the Count + gravely. “I am not a boy now. Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow + behind.” + </p> + <p> + The sculptor could not but smile at the triteness of the remark, which, + nevertheless, had a kind of originality as coming from Donatello. He had + thought it out from his own experience, and perhaps considered himself as + communicating a new truth to mankind. + </p> + <p> + They were now advancing up the courtyard; and the long extent of the + villa, with its iron-barred lower windows and balconied upper ones, became + visible, stretching back towards a grove of trees. + </p> + <p> + “At some period of your family history,” observed Kenyon, “the Counts of + Monte Beni must have led a patriarchal life in this vast house. A + great-grandsire and all his descendants might find ample verge here, and + with space, too, for each separate brood of little ones to play within its + own precincts. Is your present household a large one?” + </p> + <p> + “Only myself,” answered Donatello, “and Tomaso, who has been butler since + my grandfather’s time, and old Stella, who goes sweeping and dusting about + the chambers, and Girolamo, the cook, who has but an idle life of it. He + shall send you up a chicken forthwith. But, first of all, I must summon + one of the contadini from the farmhouse yonder, to take your horse to the + stable.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, the young Count shouted again, and with such effect that, + after several repetitions of the outcry, an old gray woman protruded her + head and a broom-handle from a chamber window; the venerable butler + emerged from a recess in the side of the house, where was a well, or + reservoir, in which he had been cleansing a small wine cask; and a + sunburnt contadino, in his shirt-sleeves, showed himself on the outskirts + of the vineyard, with some kind of a farming tool in his hand. Donatello + found employment for all these retainers in providing accommodation for + his guest and steed, and then ushered the sculptor into the vestibule of + the house. + </p> + <p> + It was a square and lofty entrance-room, which, by the solidity of its + construction, might have been an Etruscan tomb, being paved and walled + with heavy blocks of stone, and vaulted almost as massively overhead. On + two sides there were doors, opening into long suites of anterooms and + saloons; on the third side, a stone staircase of spacious breadth, + ascending, by dignified degrees and with wide resting-places, to another + floor of similar extent. Through one of the doors, which was ajar, Kenyon + beheld an almost interminable vista of apartments, opening one beyond the + other, and reminding him of the hundred rooms in Blue Beard’s castle, or + the countless halls in some palace of the Arabian Nights. + </p> + <p> + It must have been a numerous family, indeed, that could ever have sufficed + to people with human life so large an abode as this, and impart social + warmth to such a wide world within doors. The sculptor confessed to + himself, that Donatello could allege reason enough for growing melancholy, + having only his own personality to vivify it all. + </p> + <p> + “How a woman’s face would brighten it up!” he ejaculated, not intending to + be overheard. + </p> + <p> + But, glancing at Donatello, he saw a stern and sorrowful look in his eyes, + which altered his youthful face as if it had seen thirty years of trouble; + and, at the same moment, old Stella showed herself through one of the + doorways, as the only representative of her sex at Monte Beni. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <h3> + SUNSHINE + </h3> + <p> + “Come,” said the Count, “I see you already find the old house dismal. So + do I, indeed! And yet it was a cheerful place in my boyhood. But, you see, + in my father’s days (and the same was true of all my endless line of + grandfathers, as I have heard), there used to be uncles, aunts, and all + manner of kindred, dwelling together as one family. They were a merry and + kindly race of people, for the most part, and kept one another’s hearts + warm.” + </p> + <p> + “Two hearts might be enough for warmth,” observed the sculptor, “even in + so large a house as this. One solitary heart, it is true, may be apt to + shiver a little. But, I trust, my friend, that the genial blood of your + race still flows in many veins besides your own?” + </p> + <p> + “I am the last,” said Donatello gloomily. “They have all vanished from me, + since my childhood. Old Tomaso will tell you that the air of Monte Beni is + not so favorable to length of days as it used to be. But that is not the + secret of the quick extinction of my kindred.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are aware of a more satisfactory reason?” suggested Kenyon. + </p> + <p> + “I thought of one, the other night, while I was gazing at the stars,” + answered Donatello; “but, pardon me, I do not mean to tell it. One cause, + however, of the longer and healthier life of my forefathers was, that they + had many pleasant customs, and means of making themselves glad, and their + guests and friends along with them. Nowadays we have but one!” + </p> + <p> + “And what is that?” asked the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “You shall see!” said his young host. + </p> + <p> + By this time, he had ushered the sculptor into one of the numberless + saloons; and, calling for refreshment, old Stella placed a cold fowl upon + the table, and quickly followed it with a savory omelet, which Girolamo + had lost no time in preparing. She also brought some cherries, plums, and + apricots, and a plate full of particularly delicate figs, of last year’s + growth. The butler showing his white head at the door, his master beckoned + to him. “Tomaso, bring some Sunshine!” said he. The readiest method of + obeying this order, one might suppose, would have been to fling wide the + green window-blinds, and let the glow of the summer noon into the + carefully shaded room. But, at Monte Beni, with provident caution against + the wintry days, when there is little sunshine, and the rainy ones, when + there is none, it was the hereditary custom to keep their Sunshine stored + away in the cellar. Old Tomaso quickly produced some of it in a small, + straw-covered flask, out of which he extracted the cork, and inserted a + little cotton wool, to absorb the olive oil that kept the precious liquid + from the air. + </p> + <p> + “This is a wine,” observed the Count, “the secret of making which has been + kept in our family for centuries upon centuries; nor would it avail any + man to steal the secret, unless he could also steal the vineyard, in which + alone the Monte Beni grape can be produced. There is little else left me, + save that patch of vines. Taste some of their juice, and tell me whether + it is worthy to be called Sunshine! for that is its name.” “A glorious + name, too!” cried the sculptor. “Taste it,” said Donatello, filling his + friend’s glass, and pouring likewise a little into his own. “But first + smell its fragrance; for the wine is very lavish of it, and will scatter + it all abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, how exquisite!” said Kenyon. “No other wine has a bouquet like this. + The flavor must be rare, indeed, if it fulfill the promise of this + fragrance, which is like the airy sweetness of youthful hopes, that no + realities will ever satisfy!” + </p> + <p> + This invaluable liquor was of a pale golden hue, like other of the rarest + Italian wines, and, if carelessly and irreligiously quaffed, might have + been mistaken for a very fine sort of champagne. It was not, however, an + effervescing wine, although its delicate piquancy produced a somewhat + similar effect upon the palate. Sipping, the guest longed to sip again; + but the wine demanded so deliberate a pause, in order to detect the hidden + peculiarities and subtile exquisiteness of its flavor, that to drink it + was really more a moral than a physical enjoyment. There was a + deliciousness in it that eluded analysis, and—like whatever else is + superlatively good—was perhaps better appreciated in the memory than + by present consciousness. + </p> + <p> + One of its most ethereal charms lay in the transitory life of the wine’s + richest qualities; for, while it required a certain leisure and delay, + yet, if you lingered too long upon the draught, it became disenchanted + both of its fragrance and its flavor. + </p> + <p> + The lustre should not be forgotten, among the other admirable endowments + of the Monte Beni wine; for, as it stood in Kenyon’s glass, a little + circle of light glowed on the table round about it, as if it were really + so much golden sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “I feel myself a better man for that ethereal potation,” observed the + sculptor. “The finest Orvieto, or that famous wine, the Est Est Est of + Montefiascone, is vulgar in comparison. This is surely the wine of the + Golden Age, such as Bacchus himself first taught mankind to press from the + choicest of his grapes. My dear Count, why is it not illustrious? The + pale, liquid gold, in every such flask as that, might be solidified into + golden scudi, and would quickly make you a millionaire!” + </p> + <p> + Tomaso, the old butler, who was standing by the table, and enjoying the + praises of the wine quite as much as if bestowed upon himself, made + answer,—“We have a tradition, Signore,” said he, “that this rare + wine of our vineyard would lose all its wonderful qualities, if any of it + were sent to market. The Counts of Monte Beni have never parted with a + single flask of it for gold. At their banquets, in the olden time, they + have entertained princes, cardinals, and once an emperor and once a pope, + with this delicious wine, and always, even to this day, it has been their + custom to let it flow freely, when those whom they love and honor sit at + the board. But the grand duke himself could not drink that wine, except it + were under this very roof!” + </p> + <p> + “What you tell me, my good friend,” replied Kenyon, “makes me venerate the + Sunshine of Monte Beni even more abundantly than before. As I understand + you, it is a sort of consecrated juice, and symbolizes the holy virtues of + hospitality and social kindness?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, partly so, Signore,” said the old butler, with a shrewd twinkle in + his eye; “but, to speak out all the truth, there is another excellent + reason why neither a cask nor a flask of our precious vintage should ever + be sent to market. The wine, Signore, is so fond of its native home, that + a transportation of even a few miles turns it quite sour. And yet it is a + wine that keeps well in the cellar, underneath this floor, and gathers + fragrance, flavor, and brightness, in its dark dungeon. That very flask of + Sunshine, now, has kept itself for you, sir guest (as a maid reserves her + sweetness till her lover comes for it), ever since a merry vintage-time, + when the Signore Count here was a boy!” + </p> + <p> + “You must not wait for Tomaso to end his discourse about the wine, before + drinking off your glass,” observed Donatello. “When once the flask is + uncorked, its finest qualities lose little time in making their escape. I + doubt whether your last sip will be quite so delicious as you found the + first.” + </p> + <p> + And, in truth, the sculptor fancied that the Sunshine became almost + imperceptibly clouded, as he approached the bottom of the flask. The + effect of the wine, however, was a gentle exhilaration, which did not so + speedily pass away. + </p> + <p> + Being thus refreshed, Kenyon looked around him at the antique saloon in + which they sat. It was constructed in a most ponderous style, with a stone + floor, on which heavy pilasters were planted against the wall, supporting + arches that crossed one another in the vaulted ceiling. The upright walls, + as well as the compartments of the roof, were completely Covered with + frescos, which doubtless had been brilliant when first executed, and + perhaps for generations afterwards. The designs were of a festive and + joyous character, representing Arcadian scenes, where nymphs, fauns, and + satyrs disported themselves among mortal youths and maidens; and Pan, and + the god of wine, and he of sunshine and music, disdained not to brighten + some sylvan merry-making with the scarcely veiled glory of their presence. + A wreath of dancing figures, in admirable variety of shape and motion, was + festooned quite round the cornice of the room. + </p> + <p> + In its first splendor, the saloon must have presented an aspect both + gorgeous and enlivening; for it invested some of the cheerfullest ideas + and emotions of which the human mind is susceptible with the external + reality of beautiful form, and rich, harmonious glow and variety of color. + But the frescos were now very ancient. They had been rubbed and scrubbed + by old Stein and many a predecessor, and had been defaced in one spot, and + retouched in another, and had peeled from the wall in patches, and had + hidden some of their brightest portions under dreary dust, till the + joyousness had quite vanished out of them all. It was often difficult to + puzzle out the design; and even where it was more readily intelligible, + the figures showed like the ghosts of dead and buried joys,—the + closer their resemblance to the happy past, the gloomier now. For it is + thus, that with only an inconsiderable change, the gladdest objects and + existences become the saddest; hope fading into disappointment; joy + darkening into grief, and festal splendor into funereal duskiness; and all + evolving, as their moral, a grim identity between gay things and sorrowful + ones. Only give them a little time, and they turn out to be just alike! + </p> + <p> + “There has been much festivity in this saloon, if I may judge by the + character of its frescos,” remarked Kenyon, whose spirits were still + upheld by the mild potency of the Monte Beni wine. “Your forefathers, my + dear Count, must have been joyous fellows, keeping up the vintage + merriment throughout the year. It does me good to think of them gladdening + the hearts of men and women, with their wine of Sunshine, even in the Iron + Age, as Pan and Bacchus, whom we see yonder, did in the Golden one!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; there have been merry times in the banquet hall of Monte Beni, even + within my own remembrance,” replied Donatello, looking gravely at the + painted walls. “It was meant for mirth, as you see; and when I brought my + own cheerfulness into the saloon, these frescos looked cheerful too. But, + methinks, they have all faded since I saw them last.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a good idea,” said the sculptor, falling into his companion’s + vein, and helping him out with an illustration which Donatello himself + could not have put into shape, “to convert this saloon into a chapel; and + when the priest tells his hearers of the instability of earthly joys, and + would show how drearily they vanish, he may point to these pictures, that + were so joyous and are so dismal. He could not illustrate his theme so + aptly in any other way.” + </p> + <p> + “True, indeed,” answered the Count, his former simplicity strangely mixing + itself up with ah experience that had changed him; “and yonder, where the + minstrels used to stand, the altar shall be placed. A sinful man might do + all the more effective penance in this old banquet hall.” + </p> + <p> + “But I should regret to have suggested so ungenial a transformation in + your hospitable saloon,” continued Kenyon, duly noting the change in + Donatello’s characteristics. “You startle me, my friend, by so ascetic a + design! It would hardly have entered your head, when we first met. Pray do + not,—if I may take the freedom of a somewhat elder man to advise + you,” added he, smiling,—“pray do not, under a notion of + improvement, take upon yourself to be sombre, thoughtful, and penitential, + like all the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + Donatello made no answer, but sat awhile, appearing to follow with his + eyes one of the figures, which was repeated many times over in the groups + upon the walls and ceiling. It formed the principal link of an allegory, + by which (as is often the case in such pictorial designs) the whole series + of frescos were bound together, but which it would be impossible, or, at + least, very wearisome, to unravel. The sculptor’s eyes took a similar + direction, and soon began to trace through the vicissitudes,—once + gay, now sombre,—in which the old artist had involved it, the same + individual figure. He fancied a resemblance in it to Donatello himself; + and it put him in mind of one of the purposes with which he had come to + Monte Beni. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Count,” said he, “I have a proposal to make. You must let me + employ a little of my leisure in modelling your bust. You remember what a + striking resemblance we all of us—Hilda, Miriam, and I—found + between your features and those of the Faun of Praxiteles. Then, it seemed + an identity; but now that I know your face better, the likeness is far + less apparent. Your head in marble would be a treasure to me. Shall I have + it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a weakness which I fear I cannot overcome,” replied the Count, + turning away his face. “It troubles me to be looked at steadfastly.” + </p> + <p> + “I have observed it since we have been sitting here, though never before,” + rejoined the sculptor. “It is a kind of nervousness, I apprehend, which, + you caught in the Roman air, and which grows upon you, in your solitary + life. It need be no hindrance to my taking your bust; for I will catch the + likeness and expression by side glimpses, which (if portrait painters and + bust makers did but know it) always bring home richer results than a broad + stare.” + </p> + <p> + “You may take me if you have the power,” said Donatello; but, even as he + spoke, he turned away his face; “and if you can see what makes me shrink + from you, you are welcome to put it in the bust. It is not my will, but my + necessity, to avoid men’s eyes. Only,” he added, with a smile which made + Kenyon doubt whether he might not as well copy the Faun as model a new + bust,—“only, you know, you must not insist on my uncovering these + ears of mine!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay; I never should dream of such a thing,” answered the sculptor, + laughing, as the young Count shook his clustering curls. “I could not hope + to persuade you, remembering how Miriam once failed!” + </p> + <p> + Nothing is more unaccountable than the spell that often lurks in a spoken + word. A thought may be present to the mind, so distinctly that no + utterance could make it more so; and two minds may be conscious of the + same thought, in which one or both take the profoundest interest; but as + long as it remains unspoken, their familiar talk flows quietly over the + hidden idea, as a rivulet may sparkle and dimple over something sunken in + its bed. But speak the word, and it is like bringing up a drowned body out + of the deepest pool of the rivulet, which has been aware of the horrible + secret all along, in spite of its smiling surface. + </p> + <p> + And even so, when Kenyon chanced to make a distinct reference to + Donatello’s relations with Miriam (though the subject was already in both + their minds), a ghastly emotion rose up out of the depths of the young + Count’s heart. He trembled either with anger or terror, and glared at the + sculptor with wild eyes, like a wolf that meets you in the forest, and + hesitates whether to flee or turn to bay. But, as Kenyon still looked + calmly at him, his aspect gradually became less disturbed, though far from + resuming its former quietude. + </p> + <p> + “You have spoken her name,” said he, at last, in an altered and tremulous + tone; “tell me, now, all that you know of her.” + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely think that I have any later intelligence than yourself,” + answered Kenyon; “Miriam left Rome at about the time of your own + departure. Within a day or two after our last meeting at the Church of the + Capuchins, I called at her studio and found it vacant. Whither she has + gone, I cannot tell.” + </p> + <p> + Donatello asked no further questions. + </p> + <p> + They rose from table, and strolled together about the premises, whiling + away the afternoon with brief intervals of unsatisfactory conversation, + and many shadowy silences. The sculptor had a perception of change in his + companion,—possibly of growth and development, but certainly of + change,—which saddened him, because it took away much of the simple + grace that was the best of Donatello’s peculiarities. + </p> + <p> + Kenyon betook himself to repose that night in a grim, old, vaulted + apartment, which, in the lapse of five or six centuries, had probably been + the birth, bridal, and death chamber of a great many generations of the + Monte Beni family. He was aroused, soon after daylight, by the clamor of a + tribe of beggars who had taken their stand in a little rustic lane that + crept beside that portion of the villa, and were addressing their + petitions to the open windows. By and by they appeared to have received + alms, and took their departure. + </p> + <p> + “Some charitable Christian has sent those vagabonds away,” thought the + sculptor, as he resumed his interrupted nap; “who could it be? Donatello + has his own rooms in the tower; Stella, Tomaso, and the cook are a world’s + width off; and I fancied myself the only inhabitant in this part of the + house.” + </p> + <p> + In the breadth and space which so delightfully characterize an Italian + villa, a dozen guests might have had each his suite of apartments without + infringing upon one another’s ample precincts. But, so far as Kenyon knew, + he was the only visitor beneath Donatello’s widely extended roof. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <h3> + THE PEDIGREE OF MONTE BENI + </h3> + <p> + From the old butler, whom he found to be a very gracious and affable + personage, Kenyon soon learned many curious particulars about the family + history and hereditary peculiarities of the Counts of Monte Beni. There + was a pedigree, the later portion of which—that is to say, for a + little more than a thousand years—a genealogist would have found + delight in tracing out, link by link, and authenticating by records and + documentary evidences. It would have been as difficult, however, to follow + up the stream of Donatello’s ancestry to its dim source, as travellers + have found it to reach the mysterious fountains of the Nile. And, far + beyond the region of definite and demonstrable fact, a romancer might have + strayed into a region of old poetry, where the rich soil, so long + uncultivated and untrodden, had lapsed into nearly its primeval state of + wilderness. Among those antique paths, now overgrown with tangled and + riotous vegetation, the wanderer must needs follow his own guidance, and + arrive nowhither at last. + </p> + <p> + The race of Monte Beni, beyond a doubt, was one of the oldest in Italy, + where families appear to survive at least, if not to flourish, on their + half-decayed roots, oftener than in England or France. It came down in a + broad track from the Middle Ages; but, at epochs anterior to those, it was + distinctly visible in the gloom of the period before chivalry put forth + its flower; and further still, we are almost afraid to say, it was seen, + though with a fainter and wavering course, in the early morn of + Christendom, when the Roman Empire had hardly begun to show symptoms of + decline. At that venerable distance, the heralds gave up the lineage in + despair. + </p> + <p> + But where written record left the genealogy of Monte Beni, tradition took + it up, and carried it without dread or shame beyond the Imperial ages into + the times of the Roman republic; beyond those, again, into the epoch of + kingly rule. Nor even so remotely among the mossy centuries did it pause, + but strayed onward into that gray antiquity of which there is no token + left, save its cavernous tombs, and a few bronzes, and some quaintly + wrought ornaments of gold, and gems with mystic figures and inscriptions. + There, or thereabouts, the line was supposed to have had its origin in the + sylvan life of Etruria, while Italy was yet guiltless of Rome. + </p> + <p> + Of course, as we regret to say, the earlier and very much the larger + portion of this respectable descent—and the same is true of many + briefer pedigrees—must be looked upon as altogether mythical. Still, + it threw a romantic interest around the unquestionable antiquity of the + Monte Beni family, and over that tract of their own vines and fig-trees + beneath the shade of which they had unquestionably dwelt for immemorial + ages. And there they had laid the foundations of their tower, so long ago + that one half of its height was said to be sunken under the surface and to + hide subterranean chambers which once were cheerful with the olden + sunshine. + </p> + <p> + One story, or myth, that had mixed itself up with their mouldy genealogy, + interested the sculptor by its wild, and perhaps grotesque, yet not + unfascinating peculiarity. He caught at it the more eagerly, as it + afforded a shadowy and whimsical semblance of explanation for the likeness + which he, with Miriam and Hilda, had seen or fancied between Donatello and + the Faun of Praxiteles. + </p> + <p> + The Monte Beni family, as this legend averred, drew their origin from the + Pelasgic race, who peopled Italy in times that may be called prehistoric. + It was the same noble breed of men, of Asiatic birth, that settled in + Greece; the same happy and poetic kindred who dwelt in Arcadia, and—whether + they ever lived such life or not—enriched the world with dreams, at + least, and fables, lovely, if unsubstantial, of a Golden Age. In those + delicious times, when deities and demigods appeared familiarly on earth, + mingling with its inhabitants as friend with friend,—when nymphs, + satyrs, and the whole train of classic faith or fable hardly took pains to + hide themselves in the primeval woods,—at that auspicious period the + lineage of Monte Beni had its rise. Its progenitor was a being not + altogether human, yet partaking so largely of the gentlest human + qualities, as to be neither awful nor shocking to the imagination. A + sylvan creature, native among the woods, had loved a mortal maiden, and—perhaps + by kindness, and the subtile courtesies which love might teach to his + simplicity, or possibly by a ruder wooing—had won her to his haunts. + In due time he gained her womanly affection; and, making their bridal + bower, for aught we know, in the hollow of a great tree, the pair spent a + happy wedded life in that ancient neighborhood where now stood Donatello’s + tower. + </p> + <p> + From this union sprang a vigorous progeny that took its place unquestioned + among human families. In that age, however, and long afterwards, it showed + the ineffaceable lineaments of its wild paternity: it was a pleasant and + kindly race of men, but capable of savage fierceness, and never quite + restrainable within the trammels of social law. They were strong, active, + genial, cheerful as the sunshine, passionate as the tornado. Their lives + were rendered blissful by art unsought harmony with nature. + </p> + <p> + But, as centuries passed away, the Faun’s wild blood had necessarily been + attempered with constant intermixtures from the more ordinary streams of + human life. It lost many of its original qualities, and served for the + most part only to bestow an unconquerable vigor, which kept the family + from extinction, and enabled them to make their own part good throughout + the perils and rude emergencies of their interminable descent. In the + constant wars with which Italy was plagued, by the dissensions of her + petty states and republics, there was a demand for native hardihood. + </p> + <p> + The successive members of the Monte Beni family showed valor and policy + enough’ at all events, to keep their hereditary possessions out of the + clutch of grasping neighbors, and probably differed very little from the + other feudal barons with whom they fought and feasted. Such a degree of + conformity with the manners of the generations through which it survived, + must have been essential to the prolonged continuance of the race. + </p> + <p> + It is well known, however, that any hereditary peculiarity—as a + supernumerary finger, or an anomalous shape of feature, like the Austrian + lip—is wont to show itself in a family after a very wayward fashion. + It skips at its own pleasure along the line, and, latent for half a + century or so, crops out again in a great-grandson. And thus, it was said, + from a period beyond memory or record, there had ever and anon been a + descendant of the Monte Benis bearing nearly all the characteristics that + were attributed to the original founder of the race. Some traditions even + went so far as to enumerate the ears, covered with a delicate fur, and + shaped like a pointed leaf, among the proofs of authentic descent which + were seen in these favored individuals. We appreciate the beauty of such + tokens of a nearer kindred to the great family of nature than other + mortals bear; but it would be idle to ask credit for a statement which + might be deemed to partake so largely of the grotesque. + </p> + <p> + But it was indisputable that, once in a century or oftener, a son of Monte + Beni gathered into himself the scattered qualities of his race, and + reproduced the character that had been assigned to it from immemorial + times. Beautiful, strong, brave, kindly, sincere, of honest impulses, and + endowed with simple tastes and the love of homely pleasures, he was + believed to possess gifts by which he could associate himself with the + wild things of the forests, and with the fowls of the air, and could feel + a sympathy even with the trees; among which it was his joy to dwell. On + the other hand, there were deficiencies both of intellect and heart, and + especially, as it seemed, in the development of the higher portion of + man’s nature. These defects were less perceptible in early youth, but + showed themselves more strongly with advancing age, when, as the animal + spirits settled down upon a lower level, the representative of the Monte + Benis was apt to become sensual, addicted to gross pleasures, heavy, + unsympathizing, and insulated within the narrow limits of a surly + selfishness. + </p> + <p> + A similar change, indeed, is no more than what we constantly observe to + take place in persons who are not careful to substitute other graces for + those which they inevitably lose along with the quick sensibility and + joyous vivacity of youth. At worst, the reigning Count of Monte Beni, as + his hair grew white, was still a jolly old fellow over his flask of wine, + the wine that Bacchus himself was fabled to have taught his sylvan + ancestor how to express, and from what choicest grapes, which would ripen + only in a certain divinely favored portion of the Monte Beni vineyard. + </p> + <p> + The family, be it observed, were both proud and ashamed of these legends; + but whatever part of them they might consent to incorporate into their + ancestral history, they steadily repudiated all that referred to their one + distinctive feature, the pointed and furry ears. In a great many years + past, no sober credence had been yielded to the mythical portion of the + pedigree. It might, however, be considered as typifying some such + assemblage of qualities—in this case, chiefly remarkable for their + simplicity and naturalness—as, when they reappear in successive + generations, constitute what we call family character. The sculptor found, + moreover, on the evidence of some old portraits, that the physical + features of the race had long been similar to what he now saw them in + Donatello. With accumulating years, it is true, the Monte Beni face had a + tendency to look grim and savage; and, in two or three instances, the + family pictures glared at the spectator in the eyes like some surly + animal, that had lost its good humor when it outlived its playfulness. + </p> + <p> + The young Count accorded his guest full liberty to investigate the + personal annals of these pictured worthies, as well as all the rest of his + progenitors; and ample materials were at hand in many chests of worm-eaten + papers and yellow parchments, that had been gathering into larger and + dustier piles ever since the dark ages. But, to confess the truth, the + information afforded by these musty documents was so much more prosaic + than what Kenyon acquired from Tomaso’s legends, that even the superior + authenticity of the former could not reconcile him to its dullness. What + especially delighted the sculptor was the analogy between Donatello’s + character, as he himself knew it, and those peculiar traits which the old + butler’s narrative assumed to have been long hereditary in the race. He + was amused at finding, too, that not only Tomaso but the peasantry of the + estate and neighboring village recognized his friend as a genuine Monte + Beni, of the original type. They seemed to cherish a great affection for + the young Count, and were full of stories about his sportive childhood; + how he had played among the little rustics, and been at once the wildest + and the sweetest of them all; and how, in his very infancy, he had plunged + into the deep pools of the streamlets and never been drowned, and had + clambered to the topmost branches of tall trees without ever breaking his + neck. No such mischance could happen to the sylvan child because, handling + all the elements of nature so fearlessly and freely, nothing had either + the power or the will to do him harm. + </p> + <p> + He grew up, said these humble friends, the playmate not only of all mortal + kind, but of creatures of the woods; although, when Kenyon pressed them + for some particulars of this latter mode of companionship, they could + remember little more than a few anecdotes of a pet fox, which used to + growl and snap at everybody save Donatello himself. + </p> + <p> + But they enlarged—and never were weary of the theme—upon the + blithesome effects of Donatello’s presence in his rosy childhood and + budding youth. Their hovels had always glowed like sunshine when he + entered them; so that, as the peasants expressed it, their young master + had never darkened a doorway in his life. He was the soul of vintage + festivals. While he was a mere infant, scarcely able to run alone, it had + been the custom to make him tread the winepress with his tender little + feet, if it were only to crush one cluster of the grapes. And the + grape-juice that gushed beneath his childish tread, be it ever so small in + quantity, sufficed to impart a pleasant flavor to a whole cask of wine. + The race of Monte Beni—so these rustic chroniclers assured the + sculptor—had possessed the gift from the oldest of old times of + expressing good wine from ordinary grapes, and a ravishing liquor from the + choice growth of their vineyard. + </p> + <p> + In a word, as he listened to such tales as these, Kenyon could have + imagined that the valleys and hillsides about him were a veritable + Arcadia; and that Donatello was not merely a sylvan faun, but the genial + wine god in his very person. Making many allowances for the poetic fancies + of Italian peasants, he set it down for fact that his friend, in a simple + way and among rustic folks, had been an exceedingly delightful fellow in + his younger days. + </p> + <p> + But the contadini sometimes added, shaking their heads and sighing, that + the young Count was sadly changed since he went to Rome. The village girls + now missed the merry smile with which he used to greet them. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor inquired of his good friend Tomaso, whether he, too, had + noticed the shadow which was said to have recently fallen over Donatello’s + life. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, Signore!” answered the old butler, “it is even so, since he came + back from that wicked and miserable city. The world has grown either too + evil, or else too wise and sad, for such men as the old Counts of Monte + Beni used to be. His very first taste of it, as you see, has changed and + spoilt my poor young lord. There had not been a single count in the family + these hundred years or more, who was so true a Monte Beni, of the antique + stamp, as this poor signorino; and now it brings the tears into my eyes to + hear him sighing over a cup of Sunshine! Ah, it is a sad world now!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think there was a merrier world once?” asked Kenyon. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, Signore,” said Tomaso; “a merrier world, and merrier Counts of + Monte Beni to live in it! Such tales of them as I have heard, when I was a + child on my grandfather’s knee! The good old man remembered a lord of + Monte Beni—at least, he had heard of such a one, though I will not + make oath upon the holy crucifix that my grandsire lived in his time who + used to go into the woods and call pretty damsels out of the fountains, + and out of the trunks of the old trees. That merry lord was known to dance + with them a whole long summer afternoon! When shall we see such frolics in + our days?” + </p> + <p> + “Not soon, I am afraid,” acquiesced the sculptor. “You are right, + excellent Tomaso; the world is sadder now!” + </p> + <p> + And, in truth, while our friend smiled at these wild fables, he sighed in + the same breath to think how the once genial earth produces, in every + successive generation, fewer flowers than used to gladden the preceding + ones. Not that the modes and seeming possibilities of human enjoyment are + rarer in our refined and softened era,—on the contrary, they never + before were nearly so abundant,—but that mankind are getting so far + beyond the childhood of their race that they scorn to be happy any longer. + A simple and joyous character can find no place for itself among the sage + and sombre figures that would put his unsophisticated cheerfulness to + shame. The entire system of man’s affairs, as at present established, is + built up purposely to exclude the careless and happy soul. The very + children would upbraid the wretched individual who should endeavor to take + life and the world as w what we might naturally suppose them meant for—a + place and opportunity for enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + It is the iron rule in our day to require an object and a purpose in life. + It makes us all parts of a complicated scheme of progress, which can only + result in our arrival at a colder and drearier region than we were born + in. It insists upon everybody’s adding somewhat—a mite, perhaps, but + earned by incessant effort—to an accumulated pile of usefulness, of + which the only use will be, to burden our posterity with even heavier + thoughts and more inordinate labor than our own. No life now wanders like + an unfettered stream; there is a mill-wheel for the tiniest rivulet to + turn. We go all wrong, by too strenuous a resolution to go all right. + </p> + <p> + Therefore it was—so, at least, the sculptor thought, although partly + suspicious of Donatello’s darker misfortune—that the young Count + found it impossible nowadays to be what his forefathers had been. He could + not live their healthy life of animal spirits, in their sympathy with + nature, and brotherhood with all that breathed around them. Nature, in + beast, fowl, and tree, and earth, flood, and sky, is what it was of old; + but sin, care, and self-consciousness have set the human portion of the + world askew; and thus the simplest character is ever the soonest to go + astray. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, Tomaso,” said Kenyon, doing his best to comfort the old man, + “let us hope that your young lord will still enjoy himself at vintage + time. By the aspect of the vineyard, I judge that this will be a famous + year for the golden wine of Monte Beni. As long as your grapes produce + that admirable liquor, sad as you think the world, neither the Count nor + his guests will quite forget to smile.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Signore,” rejoined the butler with a sigh, “but he scarcely wets his + lips with the sunny juice.” + </p> + <p> + “There is yet another hope,” observed Kenyon; “the young Count may fall in + love, and bring home a fair and laughing wife to chase the gloom out of + yonder old frescoed saloon. Do you think he could do a better thing, my + good Tomaso?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe not, Signore,” said the sage butler, looking earnestly at him; + “and, maybe, not a worse!” + </p> + <p> + The sculptor fancied that the good old man had it partly in his mind to + make some remark, or communicate some fact, which, on second thoughts, he + resolved to keep concealed in his own breast. He now took his departure + cellarward, shaking his white head and muttering to himself, and did not + reappear till dinner-time, when he favored Kenyon, whom he had taken far + into his good graces, with a choicer flask of Sunshine than had yet + blessed his palate. + </p> + <p> + To say the truth, this golden wine was no unnecessary ingredient towards + making the life of Monte Beni palatable. It seemed a pity that Donatello + did not drink a little more of it, and go jollily to bed at least, even if + he should awake with an accession of darker melancholy the next morning. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, there was no lack of outward means for leading an agreeable + life in the old villa. Wandering musicians haunted the precincts of Monte + Beni, where they seemed to claim a prescriptive right; they made the lawn + and shrubbery tuneful with the sound of fiddle, harp, and flute, and now + and then with the tangled squeaking of a bagpipe. Improvisatori likewise + came and told tales or recited verses to the contadini—among whom + Kenyon was often an auditor—after their day’s work in the vineyard. + Jugglers, too, obtained permission to do feats of magic in the hall, where + they set even the sage Tomaso, and Stella, Girolamo, and the peasant girls + from the farmhouse, all of a broad grin, between merriment and wonder. + These good people got food and lodging for their pleasant pains, and some + of the small wine of Tuscany, and a reasonable handful of the Grand Duke’s + copper coin, to keep up the hospitable renown of Monte Beni. But very + seldom had they the young Count as a listener or a spectator. + </p> + <p> + There were sometimes dances by moonlight on the lawn, but never since he + came from Rome did Donatello’s presence deepen the blushes of the pretty + contadinas, or his footstep weary out the most agile partner or + competitor, as once it was sure to do. + </p> + <p> + Paupers—for this kind of vermin infested the house of Monte Beni + worse than any other spot in beggar-haunted Italy—stood beneath all + the windows, making loud supplication, or even establishing themselves on + the marble steps of the grand entrance. They ate and drank, and filled + their bags, and pocketed the little money that was given them, and went + forth on their devious ways, showering blessings innumerable on the + mansion and its lord, and on the souls of his deceased forefathers, who + had always been just such simpletons as to be compassionate to beggary. + But, in spite of their favorable prayers, by which Italian philanthropists + set great store, a cloud seemed to hang over these once Arcadian + precincts, and to be darkest around the summit of the tower where + Donatello was wont to sit and brood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <h3> + MYTHS + </h3> + <p> + After the sculptor’s arrival, however, the young Count sometimes came down + from his forlorn elevation, and rambled with him among the neighboring + woods and hills. He led his friend to many enchanting nooks, with which he + himself had been familiar in his childhood. But of late, as he remarked to + Kenyon, a sort of strangeness had overgrown them, like clusters of dark + shrubbery, so that he hardly recognized the places which he had known and + loved so well. + </p> + <p> + To the sculptor’s eye, nevertheless, they were still rich with beauty. + They were picturesque in that sweetly impressive way where wildness, in a + long lapse of years, has crept over scenes that have been once adorned + with the careful art and toil of man; and when man could do no more for + them, time and nature came, and wrought hand in hand to bring them to a + soft and venerable perfection. There grew the fig-tree that had run wild + and taken to wife the vine, which likewise had gone rampant out of all + human control; so that the two wild things had tangled and knotted + themselves into a wild marriage bond, and hung their various progeny—the + luscious figs, the grapes, oozy with the Southern juice, and both endowed + with a wild flavor that added the final charm—on the same bough + together. + </p> + <p> + In Kenyon’s opinion, never was any other nook so lovely as a certain + little dell which he and Donatello visited. It was hollowed in among the + hills, and open to a glimpse of the broad, fertile valley. A fountain had + its birth here, and fell into a marble basin, which was all covered with + moss and shaggy with water-weeds. Over the gush of the small stream, with + an urn in her arms, stood a marble nymph, whose nakedness the moss had + kindly clothed as with a garment; and the long trails and tresses of the + maidenhair had done what they could in the poor thing’s behalf, by hanging + themselves about her waist, In former days—it might be a remote + antiquity—this lady of the fountain had first received the infant + tide into her urn and poured it thence into the marble basin. But now the + sculptured urn had a great crack from top to bottom; and the discontented + nymph was compelled to see the basin fill itself through a channel which + she could not control, although with water long ago consecrated to her. + </p> + <p> + For this reason, or some other, she looked terribly forlorn; and you might + have fancied that the whole fountain was but the overflow of her lonely + tears. + </p> + <p> + “This was a place that I used greatly to delight in,” remarked Donatello, + sighing. “As a child, and as a boy, I have been very happy here.” + </p> + <p> + “And, as a man, I should ask no fitter place to be happy in,” answered + Kenyon. “But you, my friend, are of such a social nature, that I should + hardly have thought these lonely haunts would take your fancy. It is a + place for a poet to dream in, and people it with the beings of his + imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “I am no poet, that I know of,” said Donatello, “but yet, as I tell you, I + have been very happy here, in the company of this fountain and this nymph. + It is said that a Faun, my oldest forefather, brought home hither to this + very spot a human maiden, whom he loved and wedded. This spring of + delicious water was their household well.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a most enchanting fable!” exclaimed Kenyon; “that is, if it be not + a fact.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not a fact?” said the simple Donatello. “There is, likewise, + another sweet old story connected with this spot. But, now that I remember + it, it seems to me more sad than sweet, though formerly the sorrow, in + which it closes, did not so much impress me. If I had the gift of + tale-telling, this one would be sure to interest you mightily.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray tell it,” said Kenyon; “no matter whether well or ill. These wild + legends have often the most powerful charm when least artfully told.” + </p> + <p> + So the young Count narrated a myth of one of his Progenitors,—he + might have lived a century ago, or a thousand years, or before the + Christian epoch, for anything that Donatello knew to the contrary,—who + had made acquaintance with a fair creature belonging to this fountain. + Whether woman or sprite was a mystery, as was all else about her, except + that her life and soul were somehow interfused throughout the gushing + water. She was a fresh, cool, dewy thing, sunny and shadowy, full of + pleasant little mischiefs, fitful and changeable with the whim of the + moment, but yet as constant as her native stream, which kept the same gush + and flow forever, while marble crumbled over and around it. The fountain + woman loved the youth,—a knight, as Donatello called him,—for, + according to the legend, his race was akin to hers. At least, whether kin + or no, there had been friendship and sympathy of old betwixt an ancestor + of his, with furry ears, and the long-lived lady of the fountain. And, + after all those ages, she was still as young as a May morning, and as + frolicsome as a bird upon a tree, or a breeze that makes merry with the + leaves. + </p> + <p> + She taught him how to call her from her pebbly source, and they spent many + a happy hour together, more especially in the fervor of the summer days. + For often as he sat waiting for her by the margin of the spring, she would + suddenly fall down around him in a shower of sunny raindrops, with a + rainbow glancing through them, and forthwith gather herself up into the + likeness of a beautiful girl, laughing—or was it the warble of the + rill over the pebbles?—to see the youth’s amazement. + </p> + <p> + Thus, kind maiden that she was, the hot atmosphere became deliciously cool + and fragrant for this favored knight; and, furthermore, when he knelt down + to drink out of the spring, nothing was more common than for a pair of + rosy lips to come up out of its little depths, and touch his mouth with + the thrill of a sweet, cool, dewy kiss! + </p> + <p> + “It is a delightful story for the hot noon of your Tuscan summer,” + observed the sculptor, at this point. “But the deportment of the watery + lady must have had a most chilling influence in midwinter. Her lover would + find it, very literally, a cold reception!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Donatello rather sulkily, “you are making fun of the + story. But I see nothing laughable in the thing itself, nor in what you + say about it.” + </p> + <p> + He went on to relate, that for a long While the knight found infinite + pleasure and comfort in the friendship of the fountain nymph. In his + merriest hours, she gladdened him with her sportive humor. If ever he was + annoyed with earthly trouble, she laid her moist hand upon his brow, and + charmed the fret and fever quite away. + </p> + <p> + But one day—one fatal noontide—the young knight came rushing + with hasty and irregular steps to the accustomed fountain. He called the + nymph; but—no doubt because there was something unusual and + frightful in his tone she did not appear, nor answer him. He flung himself + down, and washed his hands and bathed his feverish brow in the cool, pure + water. And then there was a sound of woe; it might have been a woman’s + voice; it might have been only the sighing of the brook over the pebbles. + The water shrank away from the youth’s hands, and left his brow as dry and + feverish as before. + </p> + <p> + Donatello here came to a dead pause. + </p> + <p> + “Why did the water shrink from this unhappy knight?” inquired the + sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “Because he had tried to wash off a bloodstain!” said the young Count, in + a horror-stricken whisper. “The guilty man had polluted the pure water. + The nymph might have comforted him in sorrow, but could not cleanse his + conscience of a crime.” + </p> + <p> + “And did he never behold her more?” asked Kenyon. + </p> + <p> + “Never but once,” replied his friend. “He never beheld her blessed face + but once again, and then there was a blood-stain on the poor nymph’s brow; + it was the stain his guilt had left in the fountain where he tried to wash + it off. He mourned for her his whole life long, and employed the best + sculptor of the time to carve this statue of the nymph from his + description of her aspect. But, though my ancestor would fain have had the + image wear her happiest look, the artist, unlike yourself, was so + impressed with the mournfulness of the story, that, in spite of his best + efforts, he made her forlorn, and forever weeping, as you see!” + </p> + <p> + Kenyon found a certain charm in this simple legend. Whether so intended or + not, he understood it as an apologue, typifying the soothing and genial + effects of an habitual intercourse with nature in all ordinary cares and + griefs; while, on the other hand, her mild influences fall short in their + effect upon the ruder passions, and are altogether powerless in the dread + fever-fit or deadly chill of guilt. + </p> + <p> + “Do you say,” he asked, “that the nymph’s race has never since been shown + to any mortal? Methinks you, by your native qualities, are as well + entitled to her favor as ever your progenitor could have been. Why have + you not summoned her?” + </p> + <p> + “I called her often when I was a silly child,” answered Donatello; and he + added, in an inward voice, “Thank Heaven, she did not come!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you never saw her?” said the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “Never in my life!” rejoined the Count. “No, my dear friend, I have not + seen the nymph; although here, by her fountain, I used to make many + strange acquaintances; for, from my earliest childhood, I was familiar + with whatever creatures haunt the woods. You would have laughed to see the + friends I had among them; yes, among the wild, nimble things, that reckon + man their deadliest enemy! How it was first taught me, I cannot tell; but + there was a charm—a voice, a murmur, a kind of chant—by which + I called the woodland inhabitants, the furry people, and the feathered + people, in a language that they seemed to understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard of such a gift,” responded the sculptor gravely, “but never + before met with a person endowed with it. Pray try the charm; and lest I + should frighten your friends away, I will withdraw into this thicket, and + merely peep at them.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt,” said Donatello, “whether they will remember my voice now. It + changes, you know, as the boy grows towards manhood.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, as the young Count’s good-nature and easy persuadability + were among his best characteristics, he set about complying with Kenyon’s + request. The latter, in his concealment among the shrubberies, heard him + send forth a sort of modulated breath, wild, rude, yet harmonious. It + struck the auditor as at once the strangest and the most natural utterance + that had ever reached his ears. Any idle boy, it should seem, singing to + himself and setting his wordless song to no other or more definite tune + than the play of his own pulses, might produce a sound almost identical + with this; and yet, it was as individual as a murmur of the breeze. + Donatello tried it, over and over again, with many breaks, at first, and + pauses of uncertainty; then with more confidence, and a fuller swell, like + a wayfarer groping out of obscurity into the light, and moving with freer + footsteps as it brightens around him. + </p> + <p> + Anon, his voice appeared to fill the air, yet not with an obtrusive + clangor. The sound was of a murmurous character, soft, attractive, + persuasive, friendly. The sculptor fancied that such might have been the + original voice and utterance of the natural man, before the sophistication + of the human intellect formed what we now call language. In this broad + dialect—broad as the sympathies of nature—the human brother + might have spoken to his inarticulate brotherhood that prowl the woods, or + soar upon the wing, and have been intelligible to such extent as to win + their confidence. + </p> + <p> + The sound had its pathos too. At some of its simple cadences, the tears + came quietly into Kenyon’s eyes. They welled up slowly from his heart, + which was thrilling with an emotion more delightful than he had often felt + before, but which he forbore to analyze, lest, if he seized it, it should + at once perish in his grasp. + </p> + <p> + Donatello paused two or three times, and seemed to listen,—then, + recommencing, he poured his spirit and life more earnestly into the + strain. And finally,—or else the sculptor’s hope and imagination + deceived him,—soft treads were audible upon the fallen leaves. There + was a rustling among the shrubbery; a whir of wings, moreover, that + hovered in the air. It may have been all an illusion; but Kenyon fancied + that he could distinguish the stealthy, cat-like movement of some small + forest citizen, and that he could even see its doubtful shadow, if not + really its substance. But, all at once, whatever might be the reason, + there ensued a hurried rush and scamper of little feet; and then the + sculptor heard a wild, sorrowful cry, and through the crevices of the + thicket beheld Donatello fling himself on the ground. + </p> + <p> + Emerging from his hiding-place, he saw no living thing, save a brown + lizard (it was of the tarantula species) rustling away through the + sunshine. To all present appearance, this venomous reptile was the only + creature that had responded to the young Count’s efforts to renew his + intercourse with the lower orders of nature. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened to you?” exclaimed Kenyon, stooping down over his + friend, and wondering at the anguish which he betrayed. + </p> + <p> + “Death, death!” sobbed Donatello. “They know it!” + </p> + <p> + He grovelled beside the fountain, in a fit of such passionate sobbing and + weeping, that it seemed as if his heart had broken, and spilt its wild + sorrows upon the ground. His unrestrained grief and childish tears made + Kenyon sensible in how small a degree the customs and restraints of + society had really acted upon this young man, in spite of the quietude of + his ordinary deportment. In response to his friend’s efforts to console + him, he murmured words hardly more articulate than the strange chant which + he had so recently been breathing into the air. + </p> + <p> + “They know it!” was all that Kenyon could yet distinguish,—“they + know it!” + </p> + <p> + “Who know it?” asked the sculptor. “And what is it their know?” “They know + it!” repeated Donatello, trembling. “They shun me! All nature shrinks from + me, and shudders at me! I live in the midst of a curse, that hems me round + with a circle of fire! No innocent thing can come near me.” + </p> + <p> + “Be comforted, my dear friend,” said Kenyon, kneeling beside him. “You + labor under some illusion, but no curse. As for this strange, natural + spell, which you have been exercising, and of which I have heard before, + though I never believed in, nor expected to witness it, I am satisfied + that you still possess it. It was my own half-concealed presence, no + doubt, and some involuntary little movement of mine, that scared away your + forest friends.” + </p> + <p> + “They are friends of mine no longer,” answered Donatello. + </p> + <p> + “We all of us, as we grow older,” rejoined Kenyon, “lose somewhat of our + proximity to nature. It is the price we pay for experience.” + </p> + <p> + “A heavy price, then!” said Donatello, rising from the ground. “But we + will speak no more of it. Forget this scene, my dear friend. In your eyes, + it must look very absurd. It is a grief, I presume, to all men, to find + the pleasant privileges and properties of early life departing from them. + That grief has now befallen me. Well; I shall waste no more tears for such + a cause!” + </p> + <p> + Nothing else made Kenyon so sensible of a change in Donatello, as his + newly acquired power of dealing with his own emotions, and, after a + struggle more or less fierce, thrusting them down into the prison cells + where he usually kept them confined. The restraint, which he now put upon + himself, and the mask of dull composure which he succeeded in clasping + over his still beautiful, and once faun-like face, affected the sensitive + sculptor more sadly than even the unrestrained passion of the preceding + scene. It is a very miserable epoch, when the evil necessities of life, in + our tortuous world, first get the better of us so far as to compel us to + attempt throwing a cloud over our transparency. Simplicity increases in + value the longer we can keep it, and the further we carry it onward into + life; the loss of a child’s simplicity, in the inevitable lapse of years, + causes but a natural sigh or two, because even his mother feared that he + could not keep it always. But after a young man has brought it through his + childhood, and has still worn it in his bosom, not as an early dewdrop, + but as a diamond of pure white lustre,—it is a pity to lose it, + then. And thus, when Kenyon saw how much his friend had now to hide, and + how well he hid it, he would have wept, although his tears would have been + even idler than those which Donatello had just shed. + </p> + <p> + They parted on the lawn before the house, the Count to climb his tower, + and the sculptor to read an antique edition of Dante, which he had found + among some old volumes of Catholic devotion, in a seldom-visited room, + Tomaso met him in the entrance hall, and showed a desire to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Our poor signorino looks very sad to-day!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Even so, good Tomaso,” replied the sculptor. “Would that we could raise + his spirits a little!” + </p> + <p> + “There might be means, Signore,” answered the old butler, “if one might + but be sure that they were the right ones. We men are but rough nurses for + a sick body or a sick spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “Women, you would say, my good friend, are better,” said the sculptor, + struck by an intelligence in the butler’s face. “That is possible! But it + depends.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah; we will wait a little longer,” said Tomaso, with the customary shake + of his head. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE OWL TOWER + </h3> + <p> + “Will you not show me your tower?” said the sculptor one day to his + friend. + </p> + <p> + “It is plainly enough to be seen, methinks,” answered the Count, with a + kind of sulkiness that often appeared in him, as one of the little + symptoms of inward trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; its exterior is visible far and wide,” said Kenyon. “But such a + gray, moss-grown tower as this, however valuable as an object of scenery, + will certainly be quite as interesting inside as out. It cannot be less + than six hundred years old; the foundations and lower story are much older + than that, I should judge; and traditions probably cling to the walls + within quite as plentifully as the gray and yellow lichens cluster on its + face without.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” replied Donatello,—“but I know little of such things, + and never could comprehend the interest which some of you Forestieri take + in them. A year or two ago an English signore, with a venerable white + beard—they say he was a magician, too—came hither from as far + off as Florence, just to see my tower.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I have seen him at Florence,” observed Kenyon. “He is a necromancer, + as you say, and dwells in an old mansion of the Knights Templars, close by + the Ponte Vecchio, with a great many ghostly books, pictures, and + antiquities, to make the house gloomy, and one bright-eyed little girl, to + keep it cheerful!” + </p> + <p> + “I know him only by his white beard,” said Donatello; “but he could have + told you a great deal about the tower, and the sieges which it has stood, + and the prisoners who have been confined in it. And he gathered up all the + traditions of the Monte Beni family, and, among the rest, the sad one + which I told you at the fountain the other day. He had known mighty poets, + he said, in his earlier life; and the most illustrious of them would have + rejoiced to preserve such a legend in immortal rhyme,—especially if + he could have had some of our wine of Sunshine to help out his + inspiration!” + </p> + <p> + “Any man might be a poet, as well as Byron, with such wine and such a + theme,” rejoined the sculptor. “But shall we climb your tower The + thunder-storm gathering yonder among the hills will be a spectacle worth + witnessing.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then,” said the Count, adding, with a sigh, “it has a weary + staircase, and dismal chambers, and it is very lonesome at the summit!” + </p> + <p> + “Like a man’s life, when he has climbed to eminence,” remarked the + sculptor; “or, let us rather say, with its difficult steps, and the dark + prison cells you speak of, your tower resembles the spiritual experience + of many a sinful soul, which, nevertheless, may struggle upward into the + pure air and light of Heaven at last!” + </p> + <p> + Donatello sighed again, and led the way up into the tower. + </p> + <p> + Mounting the broad staircase that ascended from the entrance hall, they + traversed the great wilderness of a house, through some obscure passages, + and came to a low, ancient doorway. It admitted them to a narrow turret + stair which zigzagged upward, lighted in its progress by loopholes and + iron-barred windows. Reaching the top of the first flight, the Count threw + open a door of worm-eaten oak, and disclosed a chamber that occupied the + whole area of the tower. It was most pitiably forlorn of aspect, with a + brick-paved floor, bare holes through the massive walls, grated with iron, + instead of windows, and for furniture an old stool, which increased the + dreariness of the place tenfold, by suggesting an idea of its having once + been tenanted. + </p> + <p> + “This was a prisoner’s cell in the old days,” said Donatello; “the + white-bearded necromancer, of whom I told you, found out that a certain + famous monk was confined here, about five hundred years ago. He was a very + holy man, and was afterwards burned at the stake in the Grand-ducal Square + at Firenze. There have always been stories, Tomaso says, of a hooded monk + creeping up and down these stairs, or standing in the doorway of this + chamber. It must needs be the ghost of the ancient prisoner. Do you + believe in ghosts?” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly tell,” replied Kenyon; “on the whole, I think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I,” responded the Count; “for, if spirits ever come back, I + should surely have met one within these two months past. Ghosts never + rise! So much I know, and am glad to know it!” + </p> + <p> + Following the narrow staircase still higher, they came to another room of + similar size and equally forlorn, but inhabited by two personages of a + race which from time immemorial have held proprietorship and occupancy in + ruined towers. These were a pair of owls, who, being doubtless acquainted + with Donatello, showed little sign of alarm at the entrance of visitors. + They gave a dismal croak or two, and hopped aside into the darkest corner, + since it was not yet their hour to flap duskily abroad. + </p> + <p> + “They do not desert me, like my other feathered acquaintances,” observed + the young Count, with a sad smile, alluding to the scene which Kenyon had + witnessed at the fountain-side. “When I was a wild, playful boy, the owls + did not love me half so well.” + </p> + <p> + He made no further pause here, but led his friend up another flight of + steps—while, at every stage, the windows and narrow loopholes + afforded Kenyon more extensive eye-shots over hill and valley, and allowed + him to taste the cool purity of mid-atmosphere. At length they reached the + topmost chamber, directly beneath the roof of the tower. + </p> + <p> + “This is my own abode,” said Donatello; “my own owl’s nest.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, the room was fitted up as a bedchamber, though in a style of the + utmost simplicity. It likewise served as an oratory; there being a + crucifix in one corner, and a multitude of holy emblems, such as Catholics + judge it necessary to help their devotion withal. Several ugly little + prints, representing the sufferings of the Saviour, and the martyrdoms of + saints, hung on the wall; and behind the crucifix there was a good copy of + Titian’s Magdalen of the Pitti Palace, clad only in the flow of her golden + ringlets. She had a confident look (but it was Titian’s fault, not the + penitent woman’s), as if expecting to win heaven by the free display of + her earthly charms. Inside of a glass case appeared an image of the sacred + Bambino, in the guise of a little waxen boy, very prettily made, reclining + among flowers, like a Cupid, and holding up a heart that resembled a bit + of red sealing-wax. A small vase of precious marble was full of holy + water. + </p> + <p> + Beneath the crucifix, on a table, lay a human skull, which looked as if it + might have been dug up out of some old grave. But, examining it more + closely, Kenyon saw that it was carved in gray alabaster; most skillfully + done to the death, with accurate imitation of the teeth, the sutures, the + empty eye-caverns, and the fragile little bones of the nose. This hideous + emblem rested on a cushion of white marble, so nicely wrought that you + seemed to see the impression of the heavy skull in a silken and downy + substance. + </p> + <p> + Donatello dipped his fingers into the holy-water vase, and crossed + himself. After doing so he trembled. + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to make the sacred symbol on a sinful breast!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “On what mortal breast can it be made, then?” asked the sculptor. “Is + there one that hides no sin?” + </p> + <p> + “But these blessed emblems make you smile, I fear,” resumed the Count, + looking askance at his friend. “You heretics, I know, attempt to pray + without even a crucifix to kneel at.” + </p> + <p> + “I, at least, whom you call a heretic, reverence that holy symbol,” + answered Kenyon. “What I am most inclined to murmur at is this death’s + head. I could laugh, moreover, in its ugly face! It is absurdly monstrous, + my dear friend, thus to fling the dead weight of our mortality upon our + immortal hopes. While we live on earth, ‘t is true, we must needs carry + our skeletons about with us; but, for Heaven’s sake, do not let us burden + our spirits with them, in our feeble efforts to soar upward! Believe me, + it will change the whole aspect of death, if you can once disconnect it, + in your idea, with that corruption from which it disengages our higher + part.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not well understand you,” said Donatello; and he took up the + alabaster skull, shuddering, and evidently feeling it a kind of penance to + touch it. “I only know that this skull has been in my family for + centuries. Old Tomaso has a story that it was copied by a famous sculptor + from the skull of that same unhappy knight who loved the fountain lady, + and lost her by a blood-stain. He lived and died with a deep sense of sin + upon him, and on his death-bed he ordained that this token of him should + go down to his posterity. And my forefathers, being a cheerful race of men + in their natural disposition, found it needful to have the skull often + before their eyes, because they dearly loved life and its enjoyments, and + hated the very thought of death.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” said Kenyon, “they liked it none the better, for seeing its + face under this abominable mask.” + </p> + <p> + Without further discussion, the Count led the way up one more flight of + stairs, at the end of which they emerged upon the summit of the tower. The + sculptor felt as if his being were suddenly magnified a hundredfold; so + wide was the Umbrian valley that suddenly opened before him, set in its + grand framework of nearer and more distant hills. It seemed as if all + Italy lay under his eyes in that one picture. For there was the broad, + sunny smile of God, which we fancy to be spread over that favored land + more abundantly than on other regions, and beneath it glowed a most rich + and varied fertility. The trim vineyards were there, and the fig-trees, + and the mulberries, and the smoky-hued tracts of the olive orchards; + there, too, were fields of every kind of grain, among which, waved the + Indian corn, putting Kenyon in mind of the fondly remembered acres of his + father’s homestead. White villas, gray convents, church spires, villages, + towns, each with its battlemented walls and towered gateway, were + scattered upon this spacious map; a river gleamed across it; and lakes + opened their blue eyes in its face, reflecting heaven, lest mortals should + forget that better land when they beheld the earth so beautiful. + </p> + <p> + What made the valley look still wider was the two or three varieties of + weather that were visible on its surface, all at the same instant of time. + Here lay the quiet sunshine; there fell the great black patches of ominous + shadow from the clouds; and behind them, like a giant of league-long + strides, came hurrying the thunderstorm, which had already swept midway + across the plain. In the rear of the approaching tempest, brightened forth + again the sunny splendor, which its progress had darkened with so terrible + a frown. + </p> + <p> + All round this majestic landscape, the bald-peaked or forest-crowned + mountains descended boldly upon the plain. On many of their spurs and + midway declivities, and even on their summits, stood cities, some of them + famous of old; for these had been the seats and nurseries of early art, + where the flower of beauty sprang out of a rocky soil, and in a high, keen + atmosphere, when the richest and most sheltered gardens failed to nourish + it. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God for letting me again behold this scene!” Said the sculptor, a + devout man in his way, reverently taking off his hat. “I have viewed it + from many points, and never without as full a sensation of gratitude as my + heart seems capable of feeling. How it strengthens the poor human spirit + in its reliance on His providence, to ascend but this little way above the + common level, and so attain a somewhat wider glimpse of His dealings with + mankind! He doeth all things right! His will be done!” + </p> + <p> + “You discern something that is hidden from me,” observed Donatello + gloomily, yet striving with unwonted grasp to catch the analogies which so + cheered his friend. “I see sunshine on one spot, and cloud in another, and + no reason for it in either ease. The sun on you; the cloud on me! What + comfort can I draw from this?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay; I cannot preach,” said Kenyon, “with a page of heaven and a page of + earth spread wide open before us! Only begin to read it, and you will find + it interpreting itself without the aid of words. It is a great mistake to + try to put our best thoughts into human language. When we ascend into the + higher regions of emotion and spiritual enjoyment, they are only + expressible by such grand hieroglyphics as these around us.” + </p> + <p> + They stood awhile, contemplating the scene; but, as inevitably happens + after a spiritual flight, it was not long before the sculptor felt his + wings flagging in the rarity of the upper atmosphere. He was glad to let + himself quietly downward out of the mid-sky, as it were, and alight on the + solid platform of the battlemented tower. He looked about him, and beheld + growing out of the stone pavement, which formed the roof, a little shrub, + with green and glossy leaves. It was the only green thing there; and + Heaven knows how its seeds had ever been planted, at that airy height, or + how it had found nourishment for its small life in the chinks of the + stones; for it had no earth, and nothing more like soil than the crumbling + mortar, which had been crammed into the crevices in a long-past age. + </p> + <p> + Yet the plant seemed fond of its native site; and Donatello said it had + always grown there from his earliest remembrance, and never, he believed, + any smaller or any larger than they saw it now. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if the shrub teaches you any good lesson,” said he, observing + the interest with which Kenyon examined it. “If the wide valley has a + great meaning, the plant ought to have at least a little one; and it has + been growing on our tower long enough to have learned how to speak it.” + </p> + <p> + “O, certainly!” answered the sculptor; “the shrub has its moral, or it + would have perished long ago. And, no doubt, it is for your use and + edification, since you have had it before your eyes all your lifetime, and + now are moved to ask what may be its lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “It teaches me nothing,” said the simple Donatello, stooping over the + plant, and perplexing himself with a minute scrutiny. “But here was a worm + that would have killed it; an ugly creature, which I will fling over the + battlements.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <h3> + ON THE BATTLEMENTS + </h3> + <p> + The sculptor now looked through art embrasure, and threw down a bit of + lime, watching its fall, till it struck upon a stone bench at the rocky + foundation of the tower, and flew into many fragments. + </p> + <p> + “Pray pardon me for helping Time to crumble away your ancestral walls,” + said he. “But I am one of those persons who have a natural tendency to + climb heights, and to stand on the verge of them, measuring the depth + below. If I were to do just as I like, at this moment, I should fling + myself down after that bit of lime. It is a very singular temptation, and + all but irresistible; partly, I believe, because it might be so easily + done, and partly because such momentous consequences would ensue, without + my being compelled to wait a moment for them. Have you never felt this + strange impulse of an evil spirit at your back, shoving you towards a + precipice?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, no!” cried. Donatello, shrinking from the battlemented wall with a + face of horror. “I cling to life in a way which you cannot conceive; it + has been so rich, so warm, so sunny!—and beyond its verge, nothing + but the chilly dark! And then a fall from a precipice is such an awful + death!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay; if it be a great height,” said Kenyon, “a man would leave his life + in the air, and never feel the hard shock at the bottom.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the way with this kind of death!” exclaimed Donatello, in a + low, horror-stricken voice, which grew higher and more full of emotion as + he proceeded. “Imagine a fellow creature,—breathing now, and looking + you in the face,—and now tumbling down, down, down, with a long + shriek wavering after him, all the way! He does not leave his life in the + air! No; but it keeps in him till he thumps against the stones, a horribly + long while; then he lies there frightfully quiet, a dead heap of bruised + flesh and broken bones! A quiver runs through the crushed mass; and no + more movement after that! No; not if you would give your soul to make him + stir a finger! Ah, terrible! Yes, yes; I would fain fling myself down for + the very dread of it, that I might endure it once for all, and dream of it + no more!” + </p> + <p> + “How forcibly, how frightfully you conceive this!” said the sculptor, + aghast at the passionate horror which was betrayed in the Count’s words, + and still more in his wild gestures and ghastly look. “Nay, if the height + of your tower affects your imagination thus, you do wrong to trust + yourself here in solitude, and in the night-time, and at all unguarded + hours. You are not safe in your chamber. It is but a step or two; and what + if a vivid dream should lead you up hither at midnight, and act itself out + as a reality!” + </p> + <p> + Donatello had hidden his face in his hands, and was leaning against the + parapet. + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that!” said he. “Whatever the dream may be, I am too genuine a + coward to act out my own death in it.” + </p> + <p> + The paroxysm passed away, and the two friends continued their desultory + talk, very much as if no such interruption had occurred. Nevertheless, it + affected the sculptor with infinite pity to see this young man, who had + been born to gladness as an assured heritage, now involved in a misty + bewilderment of grievous thoughts, amid which he seemed to go staggering + blindfold. Kenyon, not without an unshaped suspicion of the definite fact, + knew that his condition must have resulted from the weight and gloom of + life, now first, through the agency of a secret trouble, making themselves + felt on a character that had heretofore breathed only an atmosphere of + joy. The effect of this hard lesson, upon Donatello’s intellect and + disposition, was very striking. It was perceptible that he had already had + glimpses of strange and subtle matters in those dark caverns, into which + all men must descend, if they would know anything beneath the surface and + illusive pleasures of existence. And when they emerge, though dazzled and + blinded by the first glare of daylight, they take truer and sadder views + of life forever afterwards. + </p> + <p> + From some mysterious source, as the sculptor felt assured, a soul had been + inspired into the young Count’s simplicity, since their intercourse in + Rome. He now showed a far deeper sense, and an intelligence that began to + deal with high subjects, though in a feeble and childish way. He evinced, + too, a more definite and nobler individuality, but developed out of grief + and pain, and fearfully conscious of the pangs that had given it birth. + Every human life, if it ascends to truth or delves down to reality, must + undergo a similar change; but sometimes, perhaps, the instruction comes + without the sorrow; and oftener the sorrow teaches no lesson that abides + with us. In Donatello’s case, it was pitiful, and almost ludicrous, to + observe the confused struggle that he made; how completely he was taken by + surprise; how ill-prepared he stood, on this old battlefield of the world, + to fight with such an inevitable foe as mortal calamity, and sin for its + stronger ally. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” thought Kenyon, “the poor fellow bears himself like a hero, + too! If he would only tell me his trouble, or give me an opening to speak + frankly about it, I might help him; but he finds it too horrible to be + uttered, and fancies himself the only mortal that ever felt the anguish of + remorse. Yes; he believes that nobody ever endured his agony before; so + that—sharp enough in itself—it has all the additional zest of + a torture just invented to plague him individually.” + </p> + <p> + The sculptor endeavored to dismiss the painful subject from his mind; and, + leaning against the battlements, he turned his face southward and + westward, and gazed across the breadth of the valley. His thoughts flew + far beyond even those wide boundaries, taking an air-line from Donatello’s + tower to another turret that ascended into the sky of the summer + afternoon, invisibly to him, above the roofs of distant Rome. Then rose + tumultuously into his consciousness that strong love for Hilda, which it + was his habit to confine in one of the heart’s inner chambers, because he + had found no encouragement to bring it forward. But now he felt a strange + pull at his heart-strings. It could not have been more perceptible, if all + the way between these battlements and Hilda’s dove-cote had stretched an + exquisitely sensitive cord, which, at the hither end, was knotted with his + aforesaid heart-strings, and, at the remoter one, was grasped by a gentle + hand. His breath grew tremulous. He put his hand to his breast; so + distinctly did he seem to feel that cord drawn once, and again, and again, + as if—though still it was bashfully intimated there were an + importunate demand for his presence. O for the white wings of Hilda’s + doves, that he might, have flown thither, and alighted at the Virgin’s + shrine! + </p> + <p> + But lovers, and Kenyon knew it well, project so lifelike a copy of their + mistresses out of their own imaginations, that it can pull at the + heartstrings almost as perceptibly as the genuine original. No airy + intimations are to be trusted; no evidences of responsive affection less + positive than whispered and broken words, or tender pressures of the hand, + allowed and half returned; or glances, that distil many passionate avowals + into one gleam of richly colored light. Even these should be weighed + rigorously, at the instant; for, in another instant, the imagination + seizes on them as its property, and stamps them with its own arbitrary + value. But Hilda’s maidenly reserve had given her lover no such tokens, to + be interpreted either by his hopes or fears. + </p> + <p> + “Yonder, over mountain and valley, lies Rome,” said the sculptor; “shall + you return thither in the autumn?” + </p> + <p> + “Never! I hate Rome,” answered Donatello; “and have good cause.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet it was a pleasant winter that we spent there,” observed Kenyon, + “and with pleasant friends about us. You would meet them again there—all + of them.” + </p> + <p> + “All?” asked Donatello. + </p> + <p> + “All, to the best of my belief,” said the sculptor: “but you need not go + to Rome to seek them. If there were one of those friends whose lifetime + was twisted with your own, I am enough of a fatalist to feel assured that + you will meet that one again, wander whither you may. Neither can we + escape the companions whom Providence assigns for us, by climbing an old + tower like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet the stairs are steep and dark,” rejoined the Count; “none but + yourself would seek me here, or find me, if they sought.” + </p> + <p> + As Donatello did not take advantage of this opening which his friend had + kindly afforded him to pour out his hidden troubles, the latter again + threw aside the subject, and returned to the enjoyment of the scene before + him. The thunder-storm, which he had beheld striding across the valley, + had passed to the left of Monte Beni, and was continuing its march towards + the hills that formed the boundary on the eastward. Above the whole + valley, indeed, the sky was heavy with tumbling vapors, interspersed with + which were tracts of blue, vividly brightened by the sun; but, in the + east, where the tempest was yet trailing its ragged skirts, lay a dusky + region of cloud and sullen mist, in which some of the hills appeared of a + dark purple hue. Others became so indistinct, that the spectator could not + tell rocky height from impalpable cloud. Far into this misty cloud region, + however,—within the domain of chaos, as it were,—hilltops were + seen brightening in the sunshine; they looked like fragments of the world, + broken adrift and based on nothingness, or like portions of a sphere + destined to exist, but not yet finally compacted. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor, habitually drawing many of the images and illustrations of + his thoughts from the plastic art, fancied that the scene represented the + process of the Creator, when he held the new, imperfect earth in his hand, + and modelled it. + </p> + <p> + “What a magic is in mist and vapor among the mountains!” he exclaimed. + “With their help, one single scene becomes a thousand. The cloud scenery + gives such variety to a hilly landscape that it would be worth while to + journalize its aspect from hour to hour. A cloud, however,—as I have + myself experienced,—is apt to grow solid and as heavy as a stone the + instant that you take in hand to describe it, But, in my own heart, I have + found great use in clouds. Such silvery ones as those to the northward, + for example, have often suggested sculpturesque groups, figures, and + attitudes; they are especially rich in attitudes of living repose, which a + sculptor only hits upon by the rarest good fortune. When I go back to my + dear native land, the clouds along the horizon will be my only gallery of + art!” + </p> + <p> + “I can see cloud shapes, too,” said Donatello; “yonder is one that shifts + strangely; it has been like people whom I knew. And now, if I watch it a + little longer, it will take the figure of a monk reclining, with his cowl + about his head and drawn partly over his face, and—well! did I not + tell you so?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” remarked Kenyon, “we can hardly be gazing at the same cloud. + What I behold is a reclining figure, to be sure, but feminine, and with a + despondent air, wonderfully well expressed in the wavering outline from + head to foot. It moves my very heart by something indefinable that it + suggests.” + </p> + <p> + “I see the figure, and almost the face,” said the Count; adding, in a + lower voice, “It is Miriam’s!” + </p> + <p> + “No, not Miriam’s,” answered the sculptor. While the two gazers thus found + their own reminiscences and presentiments floating among the clouds, the + day drew to its close, and now showed them the fair spectacle of an + Italian sunset. The sky was soft and bright, but not so gorgeous as Kenyon + had seen it, a thousand times, in America; for there the western sky is + wont to be set aflame with breadths and depths of color with which poets + seek in vain to dye their verses, and which painters never dare to copy. + As beheld from the tower of Monte Beni, the scene was tenderly + magnificent, with mild gradations of hue and a lavish outpouring of gold, + but rather such gold as we see on the leaf of a bright flower than the + burnished glow of metal from the mine. Or, if metallic, it looked airy and + unsubstantial, like the glorified dreams of an alchemist. And speedily—more + speedily than in our own clime—came the twilight, and, brightening + through its gray transparency, the stars. + </p> + <p> + A swarm of minute insects that had been hovering all day round the + battlements were now swept away by the freshness of a rising breeze. The + two owls in the chamber beneath Donatello’s uttered their soft melancholy + cry,—which, with national avoidance of harsh sounds, Italian owls + substitute for the hoot of their kindred in other countries,—and + flew darkling forth among the shrubbery. A convent bell rang out near at + hand, and was not only echoed among the hills, but answered by another + bell, and still another, which doubtless had farther and farther + responses, at various distances along the valley; for, like the English + drumbeat around the globe, there is a chain of convent bells from end to + end, and crosswise, and in all possible directions over priest-ridden + Italy. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said the sculptor, “the evening air grows cool. It is time to + descend.” + </p> + <p> + “Time for you, my friend,” replied the Count; and he hesitated a little + before adding, “I must keep a vigil here for some hours longer. It is my + frequent custom to keep vigils,—and sometimes the thought occurs to + me whether it were not better to keep them in yonder convent, the bell of + which just now seemed to summon me. Should I do wisely, do you think, to + exchange this old tower for a cell?” + </p> + <p> + “What! Turn monk?” exclaimed his friend. “A horrible idea!” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Donatello, sighing. “Therefore, if at all, I purpose doing + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then think of it no more, for Heaven’s sake!” cried the sculptor. “There + are a thousand better and more poignant methods of being miserable than + that, if to be miserable is what you wish. Nay; I question whether a monk + keeps himself up to the intellectual and spiritual height which misery + implies. A monk I judge from their sensual physiognomies, which meet me at + every turn—is inevitably a beast! Their souls, if they have any to + begin with, perish out of them, before their sluggish, swinish existence + is half done. Better, a million times, to stand star-gazing on these airy + battlements, than to smother your new germ of a higher life in a monkish + cell!” + </p> + <p> + “You make me tremble,” said Donatello, “by your bold aspersion of men who + have devoted themselves to God’s service!” + </p> + <p> + “They serve neither God nor man, and themselves least of all, though their + motives be utterly selfish,” replied Kenyon. “Avoid the convent, my dear + friend, as you would shun the death of the soul! But, for my own part, if + I had an insupportable burden,—if, for any cause, I were bent upon + sacrificing every earthly hope as a peace-offering towards Heaven,—I + would make the wide world my cell, and good deeds to mankind my prayer. + Many penitent men have done this, and found peace in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you are a heretic!” said the Count. + </p> + <p> + Yet his face brightened beneath the stars; and, looking at it through the + twilight, the sculptor’s remembrance went back to that scene in the + Capitol, where, both in features and expression, Donatello had seemed + identical with the Faun. And still there was a resemblance; for now, when + first the idea was suggested of living for the welfare of his + fellow-creatures, the original beauty, which sorrow had partly effaced, + came back elevated and spiritualized. In the black depths the Faun had + found a soul, and was struggling with it towards the light of heaven. + </p> + <p> + The illumination, it is true, soon faded out of Donatello’s face. The idea + of lifelong and unselfish effort was too high to be received by him with + more than a momentary comprehension. An Italian, indeed, seldom dreams of + being philanthropic, except in bestowing alms among the paupers, who + appeal to his beneficence at every step; nor does it occur to him that + there are fitter modes of propitiating Heaven than by penances, + pilgrimages, and offerings at shrines. Perhaps, too, their system has its + share of moral advantages; they, at all events, cannot well pride + themselves, as our own more energetic benevolence is apt to do, upon + sharing in the counsels of Providence and kindly helping out its otherwise + impracticable designs. + </p> + <p> + And now the broad valley twinkled with lights, that glimmered through its + duskiness like the fireflies in the garden of a Florentine palace. A gleam + of lightning from the rear of the tempest showed the circumference of + hills and the great space between, as the last cannon-flash of a + retreating army reddens across the field where it has fought. The sculptor + was on the point of descending the turret stair, when, somewhere in the + darkness that lay beneath them, a woman’s voice was heard, singing a low, + sad strain. + </p> + <p> + “Hark!” said he, laying his hand on Donatello’s arm. + </p> + <p> + And Donatello had said “Hark!” at the same instant. + </p> + <p> + The song, if song it could be called, that had only a wild rhythm, and + flowed forth in the fitful measure of a wind-harp, did not clothe itself + in the sharp brilliancy of the Italian tongue. The words, so far as they + could be distinguished, were German, and therefore unintelligible to the + Count, and hardly less so to the sculptor; being softened and molten, as + it were, into the melancholy richness of the voice that sung them. It was + as the murmur of a soul bewildered amid the sinful gloom of earth, and + retaining only enough memory of a better state to make sad music of the + wail, which would else have been a despairing shriek. Never was there + profounder pathos than breathed through that mysterious voice; it brought + the tears into the sculptor’s eyes, with remembrances and forebodings of + whatever sorrow he had felt or apprehended; it made Donatello sob, as + chiming in with the anguish that he found unutterable, and giving it the + expression which he vaguely sought. + </p> + <p> + But, when the emotion was at its profoundest depth, the voice rose out of + it, yet so gradually that a gloom seemed to pervade it, far upward from + the abyss, and not entirely to fall away as it ascended into a higher and + purer region. At last, the auditors would have fancied that the melody, + with its rich sweetness all there, and much of its sorrow gone, was + floating around the very summit of the tower. + </p> + <p> + “Donatello,” said the sculptor, when there was silence again, “had that + voice no message for your ear?” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not receive it,” said Donatello; “the anguish of which it spoke + abides with me: the hope dies away with the breath that brought it hither. + It is not good for me to hear that voice.” + </p> + <p> + The sculptor sighed, and left the poor penitent keeping his vigil on the + tower. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <h3> + DONATELLO’S BUST + </h3> + <p> + Kenyon, it will be remembered, had asked Donatello’s permission to model + his bust. The work had now made considerable progress, and necessarily + kept the sculptor’s thoughts brooding much and often upon his host’s + personal characteristics. These it was his difficult office to bring out + from their depths, and interpret them to all men, showing them what they + could not discern for themselves, yet must be compelled to recognize at a + glance, on the surface of a block of marble. + </p> + <p> + He had never undertaken a portrait-bust which gave him so much trouble as + Donatello’s; not that there was any special difficulty in hitting the + likeness, though even in this respect the grace and harmony of the + features seemed inconsistent with a prominent expression of individuality; + but he was chiefly perplexed how to make this genial and kind type of + countenance the index of the mind within. His acuteness and his + sympathies, indeed, were both somewhat at fault in their efforts to + enlighten him as to the moral phase through which the Count was now + passing. If at one sitting he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a + genuine and permanent trait, it would probably be less perceptible on a + second occasion, and perhaps have vanished entirely at a third. So + evanescent a show of character threw the sculptor into despair; not marble + or clay, but cloud and vapor, was the material in which it ought to be + represented. Even the ponderous depression which constantly weighed upon + Donatello’s heart could not compel him into the kind of repose which the + plastic art requires. + </p> + <p> + Hopeless of a good result, Kenyon gave up all preconceptions about the + character of his subject, and let his hands work uncontrolled with the + clay, somewhat as a spiritual medium, while holding a pen, yields it to an + unseen guidance other than that of her own will. Now and then he fancied + that this plan was destined to be the successful one. A skill and insight + beyond his consciousness seemed occasionally to take up the task. The + mystery, the miracle, of imbuing an inanimate substance with thought, + feeling, and all the intangible attributes of the soul, appeared on the + verge of being wrought. And now, as he flattered himself, the true image + of his friend was about to emerge from the facile material, bringing with + it more of Donatello’s character than the keenest observer could detect at + any one moment in the face of the original Vain expectation!—some + touch, whereby the artist thought to improve or hasten the result, + interfered with the design of his unseen spiritual assistant, and spoilt + the whole. There was still the moist, brown clay, indeed, and the features + of Donatello, but without any semblance of intelligent and sympathetic + life. + </p> + <p> + “The difficulty will drive me mad, I verily believe!” cried the sculptor + nervously. “Look at the wretched piece of work yourself, my dear friend, + and tell me whether you recognize any manner of likeness to your inner + man?” + </p> + <p> + “None,” replied Donatello, speaking the simple truth. “It is like looking + a stranger in the face.” + </p> + <p> + This frankly unfavorable testimony so wrought with the sensitive artist, + that he fell into a passion with the stubborn image, and cared not what + might happen to it thenceforward. Wielding that wonderful power which + sculptors possess over moist clay, however refractory it may show itself + in certain respects, he compressed, elongated, widened, and otherwise + altered the features of the bust in mere recklessness, and at every change + inquired of the Count whether the expression became anywise more + satisfactory. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Donatello at last, catching the sculptor’s hand. “Let it + remain so!” By some accidental handling of the clay, entirely independent + of his own will, Kenyon had given the countenance a distorted and violent + look, combining animal fierceness with intelligent hatred. Had Hilda, or + had Miriam, seen the bust, with the expression which it had now assumed, + they might have recognized Donatello’s face as they beheld it at that + terrible moment when he held his victim over the edge of the precipice. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done?” said the sculptor, shocked at his own casual + production. “It were a sin to let the clay which bears your features + harden into a look like that. Cain never wore an uglier one.” + </p> + <p> + “For that very reason, let it remain!” answered the Count, who had grown + pale as ashes at the aspect of his crime, thus strangely presented to him + in another of the many guises under which guilt stares the criminal in the + face. “Do not alter it! Chisel it, rather, in eternal marble! I will set + it up in my oratory and keep it continually before my eyes. Sadder and + more horrible is a face like this, alive with my own crime, than the dead + skull which my forefathers handed down to me!” + </p> + <p> + But, without in the least heeding Donatello’s remonstrances, the sculptor + again applied his artful fingers to the clay, and compelled the bust to + dismiss the expression that had so startled them both. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me,” said he, turning his eyes upon his friend, full of grave and + tender sympathy, “you know not what is requisite for your spiritual + growth, seeking, as you do, to keep your soul perpetually in the + unwholesome region of remorse. It was needful for you to pass through that + dark valley, but it is infinitely dangerous to linger there too long; + there is poison in the atmosphere, when we sit down and brood in it, + instead of girding up our loins to press onward. Not despondency, not + slothful anguish, is what you now require,—but effort! Has there + been an unalterable evil in your young life? Then crowd it out with good, + or it will lie corrupting there forever, and cause your capacity for + better things to partake its noisome corruption!” + </p> + <p> + “You stir up many thoughts,” said Donatello, pressing his hand upon his + brow, “but the multitude and the whirl of them make me dizzy.” + </p> + <p> + They now left the sculptor’s temporary studio, without observing that his + last accidental touches, with which he hurriedly effaced the look of + deadly rage, had given the bust a higher and sweeter expression than it + had hitherto worn. It is to be regretted that Kenyon had not seen it; for + only an artist, perhaps, can conceive the irksomeness, the irritation of + brain, the depression of spirits, that resulted from his failure to + satisfy himself, after so much toil and thought as he had bestowed on + Donatello’s bust. In case of success, indeed, all this thoughtful toil + would have been reckoned, not only as well bestowed, but as among the + happiest hours of his life; whereas, deeming himself to have failed, it + was just so much of life that had better never have been lived; for thus + does the good or ill result of his labor throw back sunshine or gloom upon + the artist’s mind. The sculptor, therefore, would have done well to glance + again at his work; for here were still the features of the antique Faun, + but now illuminated with a higher meaning, such as the old marble never + bore. + </p> + <p> + Donatello having quitted him, Kenyon spent the rest of the day strolling + about the pleasant precincts of Monte Beni, where the summer was now so + far advanced that it began, indeed, to partake of the ripe wealth of + autumn. Apricots had long been abundant, and had passed away, and plums + and cherries along with them. But now came great, juicy pears, melting and + delicious, and peaches of goodly size and tempting aspect, though cold and + watery to the palate, compared with the sculptor’s rich reminiscences of + that fruit in America. The purple figs had already enjoyed their day, and + the white ones were luscious now. The contadini (who, by this time, knew + Kenyon well) found many clusters of ripe grapes for him, in every little + globe of which was included a fragrant draught of the sunny Monte Beni + wine. + </p> + <p> + Unexpectedly, in a nook close by the farmhouse, he happened upon a spot + where the vintage had actually commenced. A great heap of early ripened + grapes had been gathered, and thrown into a mighty tub. In the middle of + it stood a lusty and jolly contadino, nor stood, merely, but stamped with + all his might, and danced amain; while the red juice bathed his feet, and + threw its foam midway up his brown and shaggy legs. Here, then, was the + very process that shows so picturesquely in Scripture and in poetry, of + treading out the wine-press and dyeing the feet and garments with the + crimson effusion as with the blood of a battlefield. The memory of the + process does not make the Tuscan wine taste more deliciously. The + contadini hospitably offered Kenyon a sample of the new liquor, that had + already stood fermenting for a day or two. He had tried a similar draught, + however, in years past, and was little inclined to make proof of it again; + for he knew that it would be a sour and bitter juice, a wine of woe and + tribulation, and that the more a man drinks of such liquor, the sorrier he + is likely to be. + </p> + <p> + The scene reminded the sculptor of our New England vintages, where the big + piles of golden and rosy apples lie under the orchard trees, in the mild, + autumnal sunshine; and the creaking cider-mill, set in motion by a + circumgyratory horse, is all a-gush with the luscious juice. To speak + frankly, the cider-making is the more picturesque sight of the two, and + the new, sweet cider an infinitely better drink than the ordinary, unripe + Tuscan wine. Such as it is, however, the latter fills thousands upon + thousands of small, flat barrels, and, still growing thinner and sharper, + loses the little life it had, as wine, and becomes apotheosized as a more + praiseworthy vinegar. + </p> + <p> + Yet all these vineyard scenes, and the processes connected with the + culture of the grape, had a flavor of poetry about them. The toil that + produces those kindly gifts of nature which are not the substance of life, + but its luxury, is unlike other toil. We are inclined to fancy that it + does not bend the sturdy frame and stiffen the overwrought muscles, like + the labor that is devoted in sad, hard earnest to raise grain for sour + bread. Certainly, the sunburnt young men and dark-cheeked, laughing girls, + who weeded the rich acres of Monte Beni, might well enough have passed for + inhabitants of an unsophisticated Arcadia. Later in the season, when the + true vintage time should come, and the wine of Sunshine gush into the + vats, it was hardly too wild a dream that Bacchus himself might revisit + the haunts which he loved of old. But, alas! where now would he find the + Faun with whom we see him consorting in so many an antique group? + </p> + <p> + Donatello’s remorseful anguish saddened this primitive and delightful + life. Kenyon had a pain of his own, moreover, although not all a pain, in + the never quiet, never satisfied yearning of his heart towards Hilda. He + was authorized to use little freedom towards that shy maiden, even in his + visions; so that he almost reproached himself when sometimes his + imagination pictured in detail the sweet years that they might spend + together, in a retreat like this. It had just that rarest quality of + remoteness from the actual and ordinary world B a remoteness through which + all delights might visit them freely, sifted from all troubles—which + lovers so reasonably insist upon, in their ideal arrangements for a happy + union. It is possible, indeed, that even Donatello’s grief and Kenyon’s + pale, sunless affection lent a charm to Monte Beni, which it would not + have retained amid a more abundant joyousness. The sculptor strayed amid + its vineyards and orchards, its dells and tangled shrubberies, with + somewhat the sensations of an adventurer who should find his way to the + site of ancient Eden, and behold its loveliness through the transparency + of that gloom which has been brooding over those haunts of innocence ever + since the fall. Adam saw it in a brighter sunshine, but never knew the + shade of Pensive beauty which Eden won from his expulsion. + </p> + <p> + It was in the decline of the afternoon that Kenyon returned from his long, + musing ramble, Old Tomaso—between whom and himself for some time + past there had been a mysterious understanding,—met him in the + entrance hall, and drew him a little aside. + </p> + <p> + “The signorina would speak with you,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “In the chapel?” asked the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “No; in the saloon beyond it,” answered the butler: “the entrance you once + saw the signorina appear through it is near the altar, hidden behind the + tapestry.” + </p> + <p> + Kenyon lost no time in obeying the summons. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <h3> + THE MARBLE SALOON + </h3> + <p> + In an old Tuscan villa, a chapel ordinarily makes one among the numerous + apartments; though it often happens that the door is permanently closed, + the key lost, and the place left to itself, in dusty sanctity, like that + chamber in man’s heart where he hides his religious awe. This was very + much the case with the chapel of Monte Beni. One rainy day, however, in + his wanderings through the great, intricate house, Kenyon had unexpectedly + found his way into it, and been impressed by its solemn aspect. The arched + windows, high upward in the wall, and darkened with dust and cobweb, threw + down a dim light that showed the altar, with a picture of a martyrdom + above, and some tall tapers ranged before it. They had apparently been + lighted, and burned an hour or two, and been extinguished perhaps half a + century before. The marble vase at the entrance held some hardened mud at + the bottom, accruing from the dust that had settled in it during the + gradual evaporation of the holy water; and a spider (being an insect that + delights in pointing the moral of desolation and neglect) had taken pains + to weave a prodigiously thick tissue across the circular brim. An old + family banner, tattered by the moths, drooped from the vaulted roof. In + niches there were some mediaeval busts of Donatello’s forgotten ancestry; + and among them, it might be, the forlorn visage of that hapless knight + between whom and the fountain-nymph had occurred such tender love + passages. + </p> + <p> + Throughout all the jovial prosperity of Monte Beni, this one spot within + the domestic walls had kept itself silent, stern, and sad. When the + individual or the family retired from song and mirth, they here sought + those realities which men do not invite their festive associates to share. + And here, on the occasion above referred to, the sculptor had discovered—accidentally, + so far as he was concerned, though with a purpose on her part—that + there was a guest under Donatello’s roof, whose presence the Count did not + suspect. An interview had since taken place, and he was now summoned to + another. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the chapel, in compliance with Tomaso’s instructions, and, + passing through the side entrance, found himself in a saloon, of no great + size, but more magnificent than he had supposed the villa to contain. As + it was vacant, Kenyon had leisure to pace it once or twice, and examine it + with a careless sort of scrutiny, before any person appeared. + </p> + <p> + This beautiful hall was floored with rich marbles, in artistically + arranged figures and compartments. The walls, likewise, were almost + entirely cased in marble of various kinds, the prevalent, variety being + giallo antico, intermixed with verd-antique, and others equally precious. + The splendor of the giallo antico, however, was what gave character to the + saloon; and the large and deep niches, apparently intended for full length + statues, along the walls, were lined with the same costly material. + Without visiting Italy, one can have no idea of the beauty and + magnificence that are produced by these fittings-up of polished marble. + Without such experience, indeed, we do not even know what marble means, in + any sense, save as the white limestone of which we carve our mantelpieces. + This rich hall of Monte Beni, moreover, was adorned, at its upper end, + with two pillars that seemed to consist of Oriental alabaster; and + wherever there was a space vacant of precious and variegated marble, it + was frescoed with ornaments in arabesque. Above, there was a coved and + vaulted ceiling, glowing with pictured scenes, which affected Kenyon with + a vague sense of splendor, without his twisting his neck to gaze at them. + </p> + <p> + It is one of the special excellences of such a saloon of polished and + richly colored marble, that decay can never tarnish it. Until the house + crumbles down upon it, it shines indestructibly, and, with a little + dusting, looks just as brilliant in its three hundredth year as the day + after the final slab of giallo antico was fitted into the wall. To the + sculptor, at this first View of it, it seemed a hall where the sun was + magically imprisoned, and must always shine. He anticipated Miriam’s + entrance, arrayed in queenly robes, and beaming with even more than the + singular beauty that had heretofore distinguished her. + </p> + <p> + While this thought was passing through his mind, the pillared door, at the + upper end of the saloon, was partly opened, and Miriam appeared. She was + very pale, and dressed in deep mourning. As she advanced towards the + sculptor, the feebleness of her step was so apparent that he made haste to + meet her, apprehending that she might sink down on the marble floor, + without the instant support of his arm. + </p> + <p> + But, with a gleam of her natural self-reliance, she declined his aid, and, + after touching her cold hand to his, went and sat down on one of the + cushioned divans that were ranged against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “You are very ill, Miriam!” said Kenyon, much shocked at her appearance. + “I had not thought of this.” + </p> + <p> + “No; not so ill as I seem to you,” she answered; adding despondently, “yet + I am ill enough, I believe, to die, unless some change speedily occurs.” + </p> + <p> + “What, then, is your disorder?” asked the sculptor; “and what the remedy?” + </p> + <p> + “The disorder!” repeated Miriam. “There is none that I know of save too + much life and strength, without a purpose for one or the other. It is my + too redundant energy that is slowly—or perhaps rapidly—wearing + me away, because I can apply it to no use. The object, which I am bound to + consider my only one on earth, fails me utterly. The sacrifice which I + yearn to make of myself, my hopes, my everything, is coldly put aside. + Nothing is left for me but to brood, brood, brood, all day, all night, in + unprofitable longings and repinings.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very sad, Miriam,” said Kenyon. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, indeed; I fancy so,” she replied, with a short, unnatural laugh. + </p> + <p> + “With all your activity of mind,” resumed he, “so fertile in plans as I + have known you, can you imagine no method of bringing your resources into + play?” + </p> + <p> + “My mind is not active any longer,” answered Miriam, in a cold, + indifferent tone. “It deals with one thought and no more. One recollection + paralyzes it. It is not remorse; do not think it! I put myself out of the + question, and feel neither regret nor penitence on my own behalf. But what + benumbs me, what robs me of all power,-it is no secret for a woman to tell + a man, yet I care not though you know it, —is the certainty that I + am, and must ever be, an object of horror in Donatello’s sight.” + </p> + <p> + The sculptor—a young man, and cherishing a love which insulated him + from the wild experiences which some men gather—was startled to + perceive how Miriam’s rich, ill-regulated nature impelled her to fling + herself, conscience and all, on one passion, the object of which + intellectually seemed far beneath her. + </p> + <p> + “How have you obtained the certainty of which you speak?” asked he, after + a pause. + </p> + <p> + “O, by a sure token,” said Miriam; “a gesture, merely; a shudder, a cold + shiver, that ran through him one sunny morning when his hand happened to + touch mine! But it was enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I firmly believe, Miriam,” said the sculptor, “that he loves you still.” + </p> + <p> + She started, and a flush of color came tremulously over the paleness of + her cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” repeated Kenyon, “if my interest in Donatello—and in + yourself, Miriam—endows me with any true insight, he not only loves + you still, but with a force and depth proportioned to the stronger grasp + of his faculties, in their new development.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not deceive me,” said Miriam, growing pale again. + </p> + <p> + “Not for the world!” replied Kenyon. “Here is what I take to be the truth. + There was an interval, no doubt, when the horror of some calamity, which I + need not shape out in my conjectures, threw Donatello into a stupor of + misery. Connected with the first shock there was an intolerable pain and + shuddering repugnance attaching themselves to all the circumstances and + surroundings of the event that so terribly affected him. Was his dearest + friend involved within the horror of that moment? He would shrink from her + as he shrank most of all from himself. But as his mind roused itself,—as + it rose to a higher life than he had hitherto experienced,—whatever + had been true and permanent within him revived by the selfsame impulse. So + has it been with his love.” + </p> + <p> + “But, surely,” said Miriam, “he knows that I am here! Why, then, except + that I am odious to him, does he not bid me welcome?” + </p> + <p> + “He is, I believe, aware of your presence here,” answered the sculptor. + “Your song, a night or two ago, must have revealed it to him, and, in + truth, I had fancied that there was already a consciousness of it in his + mind. But, the more passionately he longs for your society, the more + religiously he deems himself bound to avoid it. The idea of a lifelong + penance has taken strong possession of Donatello. He gropes blindly about + him for some method of sharp self-torture, and finds, of course, no other + so efficacious as this.” + </p> + <p> + “But he loves me,” repeated Miriam, in a low voice, to herself. “Yes; he + loves me!” + </p> + <p> + It was strange to observe the womanly softness that came over her, as she + admitted that comfort into her bosom. The cold, unnatural indifference of + her manner, a kind of frozen passionateness which had shocked and chilled + the sculptor, disappeared. She blushed, and turned away her eyes, knowing + that there was more surprise and joy in their dewy glances than any man + save one ought to detect there. + </p> + <p> + “In other respects,” she inquired at length, “is he much changed?” + </p> + <p> + “A wonderful process is going forward in Donatello’s mind,” answered the + sculptor. “The germs of faculties that have heretofore slept are fast + springing into activity. The world of thought is disclosing itself to his + inward sight. He startles me, at times, with his perception of deep + truths; and, quite as often, it must be owned, he compels me to smile by + the intermixture of his former simplicity with a new intelligence. But he + is bewildered with the revelations that each day brings. Out of his bitter + agony, a soul and intellect, I could almost say, have been inspired into + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I could help him here!” cried Miriam, clasping her hands. “And how + sweet a toil to bend and adapt my whole nature to do him good! To + instruct, to elevate, to enrich his mind with the wealth that would flow + in upon me, had I such a motive for acquiring it! Who else can perform the + task? Who else has the tender sympathy which he requires? Who else, save + only me,—a woman, a sharer in the same dread secret, a partaker in + one identical guilt,—could meet him on such terms of intimate + equality as the case demands? With this object before me, I might feel a + right to live! Without it, it is a shame for me to have lived so long.” + </p> + <p> + “I fully agree with you,” said Kenyon, “that your true place is by his + side.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely it is,” replied Miriam. “If Donatello is entitled to aught on + earth, it is to my complete self-sacrifice for his sake. It does not + weaken his claim, methinks, that my only prospect of happiness a fearful + word, however lies in the good that may accrue to him from our + intercourse. But he rejects me! He will not listen to the whisper of his + heart, telling him that she, most wretched, who beguiled him into evil, + might guide him to a higher innocence than that from which he fell. How is + this first great difficulty to be obviated?” + </p> + <p> + “It lies at your own option, Miriam, to do away the obstacle, at any + moment,” remarked the sculptor. “It is but to ascend Donatello’s tower, + and you will meet him there, under the eye of God.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not,” answered Miriam. “No; I dare not!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you fear,” asked the sculptor, “the dread eye-witness whom I have + named?” + </p> + <p> + “No; for, as far as I can see into that cloudy and inscrutable thing, my + heart, it has none but pure motives,” replied Miriam. “But, my friend, you + little know what a weak or what a strong creature a woman is! I fear not + Heaven, in this case, at least, but—shall I confess it? I am greatly + in dread of Donatello. Once he shuddered at my touch. If he shudder once + again, or frown, I die!” + </p> + <p> + Kenyon could not but marvel at the subjection into which this proud and + self-dependent woman had willfully flung herself, hanging her life upon + the chance of an angry or favorable regard from a person who, a little + while before, had seemed the plaything of a moment. But, in Miriam’s eyes, + Donatello was always, thenceforth, invested with the tragic dignity of + their hour of crime; and, furthermore, the keen and deep insight, with + which her love endowed her, enabled her to know him far better than he + could be known by ordinary observation. Beyond all question, since she + loved him so, there was a force in Donatello worthy of her respect and + love. + </p> + <p> + “You see my weakness,” said Miriam, flinging out her hands, as a person + does when a defect is acknowledged, and beyond remedy. “What I need, now, + is an opportunity to show my strength.” + </p> + <p> + “It has occurred to me,” Kenyon remarked, “that the time is come when it + may be desirable to remove Donatello from the complete seclusion in which + he buries himself. He has struggled long enough with one idea. He now + needs a variety of thought, which cannot be otherwise so readily supplied + to him, as through the medium of a variety of scenes. His mind is + awakened, now; his heart, though full of pain, is no longer benumbed. They + should have food and solace. If he linger here much longer, I fear that he + may sink back into a lethargy. The extreme excitability, which + circumstances have imparted to his moral system, has its dangers and its + advantages; it being one of the dangers, that an obdurate scar may + supervene upon its very tenderness. Solitude has done what it could for + him; now, for a while, let him be enticed into the outer world.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your plan, then?” asked Miriam. + </p> + <p> + “Simply,” replied Kenyon, “to persuade Donatello to be my companion in a + ramble among these hills and valleys. The little adventures and + vicissitudes of travel will do him infinite good. After his recent + profound experience, he will re-create the world by the new eyes with + which he will regard it. He will escape, I hope, out of a morbid life, and + find his way into a healthy one.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is to be my part in this process?” inquired Miriam sadly, and + not without jealousy. “You are taking him from me, and putting yourself, + and all manner of living interests, into the place which I ought to fill!” + </p> + <p> + “It would rejoice me, Miriam, to yield the entire responsibility of this + office to yourself,” answered the sculptor. “I do not pretend to be the + guide and counsellor whom Donatello needs; for, to mention no other + obstacle, I am a man, and between man and man there is always an + insuperable gulf. They can never quite grasp each other’s hands; and + therefore man never derives any intimate help, any heart sustenance, from + his brother man, but from woman—his mother, his sister, or his wife. + Be Donatello’s friend at need, therefore, and most gladly will I resign + him!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not kind to taunt me thus,” said Miriam. “I have told you that I + cannot do what you suggest, because I dare not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” rejoined the sculptor, “see if there is any possibility of + adapting yourself to my scheme. The incidents of a journey often fling + people together in the oddest and therefore the most natural way. + Supposing you were to find yourself on the same route, a reunion with + Donatello might ensue, and Providence have a larger hand in it than either + of us.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not a hopeful plan,” said Miriam, shaking her head, after a + moment’s thought; “yet I will not reject it without a trial. Only in case + it fail, here is a resolution to which I bind myself, come what come may! + You know the bronze statue of Pope Julius in the great square of Perugia? + I remember standing in the shadow of that statue one sunny noontime, and + being impressed by its paternal aspect, and fancying that a blessing fell + upon me from its outstretched hand. Ever since, I have had a superstition, + you will call it foolish, but sad and ill-fated persons always dream such + things,—that, if I waited long enough in that same spot, some good + event would come to pass. Well, my friend, precisely a fortnight after you + begin your tour,—unless we sooner meet,—bring Donatello, at + noon, to the base of the statue. You will find me there!” + </p> + <p> + Kenyon assented to the proposed arrangement, and, after some conversation + respecting his contemplated line of travel, prepared to take his leave. As + he met Miriam’s eyes, in bidding farewell, he was surprised at the new, + tender gladness that beamed out of them, and at the appearance of health + and bloom, which, in this little while, had overspread her face.’ + </p> + <p> + “May I tell you, Miriam,” said he, smiling, “that you are still as + beautiful as ever?” + </p> + <p> + “You have a right to notice it,” she replied, “for, if it be so, my faded + bloom has been revived by the hopes you give me. Do you, then, think me + beautiful? I rejoice, most truly. Beauty—if I possess it—shall + be one of the instruments by which I will try to educate and elevate him, + to whose good I solely dedicate myself.” + </p> + <p> + The sculptor had nearly reached the door, when, hearing her call him, he + turned back, and beheld Miriam still standing where he had left her, in + the magnificent hall which seemed only a fit setting for her beauty. She + beckoned him to return. + </p> + <p> + “You are a man of refined taste,” said she; “more than that,—a man + of delicate sensibility. Now tell me frankly, and on your honor! Have I + not shocked you many times during this interview by my betrayal of woman’s + cause, my lack of feminine modesty, my reckless, passionate, most + indecorous avowal, that I live only in the life of one who, perhaps, + scorns and shudders at me?” + </p> + <p> + Thus adjured, however difficult the point to which she brought him, the + sculptor was not a man to swerve aside from the simple truth. + </p> + <p> + “Miriam,” replied he, “you exaggerate the impression made upon my mind; + but it has been painful, and somewhat of the character which you suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it,” said Miriam, mournfully, and with no resentment. “What + remains of my finer nature would have told me so, even if it had not been + perceptible in all your manner. Well, my dear friend, when you go back to + Rome, tell Hilda what her severity has done! She was all womanhood to me; + and when she cast me off, I had no longer any terms to keep with the + reserves and decorums of my sex. Hilda has set me free! Pray tell her so, + from Miriam, and thank her!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell Hilda nothing that will give her pain,” answered Kenyon. + “But, Miriam, though I know not what passed between her and yourself, I + feel,—and let the noble frankness of your disposition forgive me if + I say so,—I feel that she was right. You have a thousand admirable + qualities. Whatever mass of evil may have fallen into your life, —pardon + me, but your own words suggest it,—you are still as capable as ever + of many high and heroic virtues. But the white shining purity of Hilda’s + nature is a thing apart; and she is bound, by the undefiled material of + which God moulded her, to keep that severity which I, as well as you, have + recognized.” + </p> + <p> + “O, you are right!” said Miriam; “I never questioned it; though, as I told + you, when she cast me off, it severed some few remaining bonds between me + and decorous womanhood. But were there anything to forgive, I do forgive + her. May you win her virgin heart; for methinks there can be few men in + this evil world who are not more unworthy of her than yourself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <h3> + SCENES BY THE WAY + </h3> + <p> + When it came to the point of quitting the reposeful life of Monte Beni, + the sculptor was not without regrets, and would willingly have dreamed a + little longer of the sweet paradise on earth that Hilda’s presence there + might make. Nevertheless, amid all its repose, he had begun to be sensible + of a restless melancholy, to which the cultivators of the ideal arts are + more liable than sturdier men. On his own part, therefore, and leaving + Donatello out of the case, he would have judged it well to go. He made + parting visits to the legendary dell, and to other delightful spots with + which he had grown familiar; he climbed the tower again, and saw a sunset + and a moonrise over the great valley; he drank, on the eve of his + departure, one flask, and then another, of the Monte Beni Sunshine, and + stored up its flavor in his memory as the standard of what is exquisite in + wine. These things accomplished, Kenyon was ready for the journey. + </p> + <p> + Donatello had not very easily been stirred out of the peculiar + sluggishness, which enthralls and bewitches melancholy people. He had + offered merely a passive resistance, however, not an active one, to his + friend’s schemes; and when the appointed hour came, he yielded to the + impulse which Kenyon failed not to apply; and was started upon the journey + before he had made up his mind to undertake it. They wandered forth at + large, like two knights-errant, among the valleys, and the mountains, and + the old mountain towns of that picturesque and lovely region. Save to keep + the appointment with Miriam, a fortnight thereafter, in the great square + of Perugia, there was nothing more definite in the sculptor’s plan than + that they should let themselves be blown hither and thither like Winged + seeds, that mount upon each wandering breeze. Yet there was an idea of + fatality implied in the simile of the winged seeds which did not + altogether suit Kenyon’s fancy; for, if you look closely into the matter, + it will be seen that whatever appears most vagrant, and utterly + purposeless, turns out, in the end, to have been impelled the most surely + on a preordained and unswerving track. Chance and change love to deal with + men’s settled plans, not with their idle vagaries. If we desire unexpected + and unimaginable events, we should contrive an iron framework, such as we + fancy may compel the future to take one inevitable shape; then comes in + the unexpected, and shatters our design in fragments. + </p> + <p> + The travellers set forth on horseback, and purposed to perform much of + their aimless journeyings under the moon, and in the cool of the morning + or evening twilight; the midday sun, while summer had hardly begun to + trail its departing skirts over Tuscany, being still too fervid to allow + of noontide exposure. + </p> + <p> + For a while, they wandered in that same broad valley which Kenyon had + viewed with such delight from the Monte Beni tower. The sculptor soon + began to enjoy the idle activity of their new life, which the lapse of a + day or two sufficed to establish as a kind of system; it is so natural for + mankind to be nomadic, that a very little taste of that primitive mode of + existence subverts the settled habits of many preceding years. Kenyon’s + cares, and whatever gloomy ideas before possessed him, seemed to be left + at Monte Beni, and were scarcely remembered by the time that its gray + tower grew undistinguishable on the brown hillside. His perceptive + faculties, which had found little exercise of late, amid so thoughtful a + way of life, became keen, and kept his eyes busy with a hundred agreeable + scenes. + </p> + <p> + He delighted in the picturesque bits of rustic character and manners, so + little of which ever comes upon the surface of our life at home. There, + for example, were the old women, tending pigs or sheep by the wayside. As + they followed the vagrant steps of their charge, these venerable ladies + kept spinning yarn with that elsewhere forgotten contrivance, the distaff; + and so wrinkled and stern looking were they, that you might have taken + them for the Parcae, spinning the threads of human destiny. In contrast + with their great-grandmothers were the children, leading goats of shaggy + beard, tied by the horns, and letting them browse on branch and shrub. It + is the fashion of Italy to add the petty industry of age and childhood to + the hum of human toil. To the eyes of an observer from the Western world, + it was a strange spectacle to see sturdy, sunburnt creatures, in + petticoats, but otherwise manlike, toiling side by side with male + laborers, in the rudest work of the fields. These sturdy women (if as such + we must recognize them) wore the high-crowned, broad brimmed hat of Tuscan + straw, the customary female head-apparel; and, as every breeze blew back + its breadth of brim, the sunshine constantly added depth to the brown glow + of their cheeks. The elder sisterhood, however, set off their witch-like + ugliness to the worst advantage with black felt hats, bequeathed them, one + would fancy, by their long-buried husbands. + </p> + <p> + Another ordinary sight, as sylvan as the above and more agreeable, was a + girl, bearing on her back a huge bundle of green twigs and shrubs, or + grass, intermixed with scarlet poppies and blue flowers; the verdant + burden being sometimes of such size as to hide the bearer’s figure, and + seem a self-moving mass of fragrant bloom and verdure. Oftener, however, + the bundle reached only halfway down the back of the rustic nymph, leaving + in sight her well-developed lower limbs, and the crooked knife, hanging + behind her, with which she had been reaping this strange harvest sheaf. A + pre-Raphaelite artist (he, for instance, who painted so marvellously a + wind-swept heap of autumnal leaves) might find an admirable subject in one + of these Tuscan girls, stepping with a free, erect, and graceful carriage. + The miscellaneous herbage and tangled twigs and blossoms of her bundle, + crowning her head (while her ruddy, comely face looks out between the + hanging side festoons like a larger flower), would give the painter + boundless scope for the minute delineation which he loves. + </p> + <p> + Though mixed up with what was rude and earthlike, there was still a + remote, dreamlike, Arcadian charm, which is scarcely to be found in the + daily toil of other lands. Among the pleasant features of the wayside were + always the vines, clambering on fig-trees, or other sturdy trunks; they + wreathed themselves in huge and rich festoons from one tree to another, + suspending clusters of ripening grapes in the interval between. Under such + careless mode of culture, the luxuriant vine is a lovelier spectacle than + where it produces a more precious liquor, and is therefore more + artificially restrained and trimmed. Nothing can be more picturesque than + an old grapevine, with almost a trunk of its own, clinging fast around its + supporting tree. Nor does the picture lack its moral. You might twist it + to more than one grave purpose, as you saw how the knotted, serpentine + growth imprisoned within its strong embrace the friend that had supported + its tender infancy; and how (as seemingly flexible natures are prone to + do) it converted the sturdier tree entirely to its own selfish ends, + extending its innumerable arms on every bough, and permitting hardly a + leaf to sprout except its own. It occurred to Kenyon, that the enemies of + the vine, in his native land, might here have seen an emblem of the + remorseless gripe, which the habit of vinous enjoyment lays upon its + victim, possessing him wholly, and letting him live no life but such as it + bestows. + </p> + <p> + The scene was not less characteristic when their path led the two + wanderers through some small, ancient town. There, besides the + peculiarities of present life, they saw tokens of the life that had long + ago been lived and flung aside. The little town, such as we see in our + mind’s eye, would have its gate and its surrounding walls, so ancient and + massive that ages had not sufficed to crumble them away; but in the lofty + upper portion of the gateway, still standing over the empty arch, where + there was no longer a gate to shut, there would be a dove-cote, and + peaceful doves for the only warders. Pumpkins lay ripening in the open + chambers of the structure. Then, as for the town wall, on the outside an + orchard extends peacefully along its base, full, not of apple-trees, but + of those old humorists with gnarled trunks and twisted boughs, the olives. + Houses have been built upon the ramparts, or burrowed out of their + ponderous foundation. Even the gray, martial towers, crowned with ruined + turrets, have been converted into rustic habitations, from the windows of + which hang ears of Indian corn. At a door, that has been broken through + the massive stonework where it was meant to be strongest, some contadini + are winnowing grain. Small windows, too, are pierced through the whole + line of ancient wall, so that it seems a row of dwellings with one + continuous front, built in a strange style of needless strength; but + remnants of the old battlements and machicolations are interspersed with + the homely chambers and earthen-tiled housetops; and all along its extent + both grapevines and running flower-shrubs are encouraged to clamber and + sport over the roughness of its decay. + </p> + <p> + Finally the long grass, intermixed with weeds and wild flowers, waves on + the uppermost height of the shattered rampart; and it is exceedingly + pleasant in the golden sunshine of the afternoon to behold the warlike + precinct so friendly in its old days, and so overgrown with rural peace. + In its guard rooms, its prison chambers, and scooped out of its ponderous + breadth, there are dwellings nowadays where happy human lives are spent. + Human parents and broods of children nestle in them, even as the swallows + nestle in the little crevices along the broken summit of the wall. + </p> + <p> + Passing through the gateway of this same little town, challenged only by + those watchful sentinels, the pigeons, we find ourselves in a long, narrow + street, paved from side to side with flagstones, in the old Roman fashion. + Nothing can exceed the grim ugliness of the houses, most of which are + three or four stories high, stone built, gray, dilapidated, or + half-covered with plaster in patches, and contiguous all along from end to + end of the town. Nature, in the shape of tree, shrub, or grassy sidewalk, + is as much shut out from the one street of the rustic village as from the + heart of any swarming city. The dark and half ruinous habitations, with + their small windows, many of which are drearily closed with wooden + shutters, are but magnified hovels, piled story upon story, and squalid + with the grime that successive ages have left behind them. It would be a + hideous scene to contemplate in a rainy day, or when no human life + pervaded it. In the summer noon, however, it possesses vivacity enough to + keep itself cheerful; for all the within-doors of the village then bubbles + over upon the flagstones, or looks out from the small windows, and from + here and there a balcony. Some of the populace are at the butcher’s shop; + others are at the fountain, which gushes into a marble basin that + resembles an antique sarcophagus. A tailor is sewing before his door with + a young priest seated sociably beside him; a burly friar goes by with an + empty wine-barrel on his head; children are at play; women, at their own + doorsteps, mend clothes, embroider, weave hats of Tuscan straw, or twirl + the distaff. Many idlers, meanwhile, strolling from one group to another, + let the warm day slide by in the sweet, interminable task of doing + nothing. + </p> + <p> + From all these people there comes a babblement that seems quite + disproportioned to the number of tongues that make it. So many words are + not uttered in a New England village throughout the year—except it + be at a political canvass or town-meeting—as are spoken here, with + no especial purpose, in a single day. Neither so many words, nor so much + laughter; for people talk about nothing as if they were terribly in + earnest, and make merry at nothing as if it were the best of all possible + jokes. In so long a time as they have existed, and within such narrow + precincts, these little walled towns are brought into a closeness of + society that makes them but a larger household. All the inhabitants are + akin to each, and each to all; they assemble in the street as their common + saloon, and thus live and die in a familiarity of intercourse, such as + never can be known where a village is open at either end, and all + roundabout, and has ample room within itself. + </p> + <p> + Stuck up beside the door of one house, in this village street, is a + withered bough; and on a stone seat, just under the shadow of the bough, + sits a party of jolly drinkers, making proof of the new wine, or quaffing + the old, as their often-tried and comfortable friend. Kenyon draws bridle + here (for the bough, or bush, is a symbol of the wine-shop at this day in + Italy, as it was three hundred years ago in England), and calls for a + goblet of the deep, mild, purple juice, well diluted with water from the + fountain. The Sunshine of Monte Beni would be welcome now. Meanwhile, + Donatello has ridden onward, but alights where a shrine, with a burning + lamp before it, is built into the wall of an inn stable. He kneels and + crosses himself, and mutters a brief prayer, without attracting notice + from the passers-by, many of whom are parenthetically devout in a similar + fashion. By this time the sculptor has drunk off his wine-and-water, and + our two travellers resume their way, emerging from the opposite gate of + the village. + </p> + <p> + Before them, again, lies the broad valley, with a mist so thinly scattered + over it as to be perceptible only in the distance, and most so in the + nooks of the hills. Now that we have called it mist, it seems a mistake + not rather to have called it sunshine; the glory of so much light being + mingled with so little gloom, in the airy material of that vapor. Be it + mist or sunshine, it adds a touch of ideal beauty to the scene, almost + persuading the spectator that this valley and those hills are visionary, + because their visible atmosphere is so like the substance of a dream. + </p> + <p> + Immediately about them, however, there were abundant tokens that the + country was not really the paradise it looked to be, at a casual glance. + Neither the wretched cottages nor the dreary farmhouses seemed to partake + of the prosperity, with which so kindly a climate, and so fertile a + portion of Mother Earth’s bosom, should have filled them, one and all. But + possibly the peasant inhabitants do not exist in so grimy a poverty, and + in homes so comfortless, as a stranger, with his native ideas of those + matters, would be likely to imagine. The Italians appear to possess none + of that emulative pride which we see in our New England villages, where + every householder, according to his taste and means, endeavors to make his + homestead an ornament to the grassy and elm-shadowed wayside. In Italy + there are no neat doorsteps and thresholds; no pleasant, vine-sheltered + porches; none of those grass-plots or smoothly shorn lawns, which + hospitably invite the imagination into the sweet domestic interiors of + English life. Everything, however sunny and luxuriant may be the scene + around, is especially disheartening in the immediate neighborhood of an + Italian home. + </p> + <p> + An artist, it is true, might often thank his stars for those old houses, + so picturesquely time-stained, and with the plaster falling in blotches + from the ancient brick-work. The prison-like, iron-barred windows, and the + wide arched, dismal entrance, admitting on one hand to the stable, on the + other to the kitchen, might impress him as far better worth his pencil + than the newly painted pine boxes, in which—if he be an American—his + countrymen live and thrive. But there is reason to suspect that a people + are waning to decay and ruin the moment that their life becomes + fascinating either in the poet’s imagination or the painter’s eye. + </p> + <p> + As usual on Italian waysides, the wanderers passed great, black crosses, + hung with all the instruments of the sacred agony and passion: there were + the crown of thorns, the hammer and nails, the pincers, the spear, the + sponge; and perched over the whole, the cock that crowed to St. Peter’s + remorseful conscience. Thus, while the fertile scene showed the + never-failing beneficence of the Creator towards man in his transitory + state, these symbols reminded each wayfarer of the Saviour’s infinitely + greater love for him as an immortal spirit. Beholding these consecrated + stations, the idea seemed to strike Donatello of converting the otherwise + aimless journey into a penitential pilgrimage. At each of them he alighted + to kneel and kiss the cross, and humbly press his forehead against its + foot; and this so invariably, that the sculptor soon learned to draw + bridle of his own accord. It may be, too, heretic as he was, that Kenyon + likewise put up a prayer, rendered more fervent by the symbols before his + eyes, for the peace of his friend’s conscience and the pardon of the sin + that so oppressed him. + </p> + <p> + Not only at the crosses did Donatello kneel, but at each of the many + shrines, where the Blessed Virgin in fresco—faded with sunshine and + half washed out with showers—looked benignly at her worshipper; or + where she was represented in a wooden image, or a bas-relief of plaster or + marble, as accorded with the means of the devout person who built, or + restored from a mediaeval antiquity, these places of wayside worship. They + were everywhere: under arched niches, or in little penthouses with a brick + tiled roof just large enough to shelter them; or perhaps in some bit of + old Roman masonry, the founders of which had died before the Advent; or in + the wall of a country inn or farmhouse; or at the midway point of a + bridge; or in the shallow cavity of a natural rock; or high upward in the + deep cuts of the road. It appeared to the sculptor that Donatello prayed + the more earnestly and the more hopefully at these shrines, because the + mild face of the Madonna promised him to intercede as a tender mother + betwixt the poor culprit and the awfulness of judgment. + </p> + <p> + It was beautiful to observe, indeed, how tender was the soul of man and + woman towards the Virgin mother, in recognition of the tenderness which, + as their faith taught them, she immortally cherishes towards all human + souls. In the wire-work screen ‘before each shrine hung offerings of + roses, or whatever flower was sweetest and most seasonable; some already + wilted and withered, some fresh with that very morning’s dewdrops. Flowers + there were, too, that, being artificial, never bloomed on earth, nor would + ever fade. The thought occurred to Kenyon, that flower-pots with living + plants might be set within the niches, or even that rose-trees, and all + kinds of flowering shrubs, might be reared under the shrines, and taught + to twine and wreathe themselves around; so that the Virgin should dwell + within a bower of verdure, bloom, and fragrant freshness, symbolizing a + homage perpetually new. There are many things in the religious customs of + these people that seem good; many things, at least, that might be both + good and beautiful, if the soul of goodness and the sense of beauty were + as much alive in the Italians now as they must have been when those + customs were first imagined and adopted. But, instead of blossoms on the + shrub, or freshly gathered, with the dewdrops on their leaves, their + worship, nowadays, is best symbolized by the artificial flower. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor fancied, moreover (but perhaps it was his heresy that + suggested the idea), that it would be of happy influence to place a + comfortable and shady seat beneath every wayside shrine. Then the weary + and sun-scorched traveller, while resting himself under her protecting + shadow, might thank the Virgin for her hospitality. Nor, perchance, were + he to regale himself, even in such a consecrated spot, with the fragrance + of a pipe, would it rise to heaven more offensively than the smoke of + priestly incense. We do ourselves wrong, and too meanly estimate the + Holiness above us, when we deem that any act or enjoyment, good in itself, + is not good to do religiously. + </p> + <p> + Whatever may be the iniquities of the papal system, it was a wise and + lovely sentiment that set up the frequent shrine and cross along the + roadside. No wayfarer, bent on whatever worldly errand, can fail to be + reminded, at every mile or two, that this is not the business which most + concerns him. The pleasure-seeker is silently admonished to look + heavenward for a joy infinitely greater than he now possesses. The wretch + in temptation beholds the cross, and is warned that, if he yield, the + Saviour’s agony for his sake will have been endured in vain. The stubborn + criminal, whose heart has long been like a stone, feels it throb anew with + dread and hope; and our poor Donatello, as he went kneeling from shrine to + cross, and from cross to shrine, doubtless found an efficacy in these + symbols that helped him towards a higher penitence. + </p> + <p> + Whether the young Count of Monte Beni noticed the fact, or no, there was + more than one incident of their journey that led Kenyon to believe that + they were attended, or closely followed, or preceded, near at hand, by + some one who took an interest in their motions. As it were, the step, the + sweeping garment, the faintly heard breath, of an invisible companion, was + beside them, as they went on their way. It was like a dream that had + strayed out of their slumber, and was haunting them in the daytime, when + its shadowy substance could have neither density nor outline, in the too + obtrusive light. After sunset, it grew a little more distinct. + </p> + <p> + “On the left of that last shrine,” asked the sculptor, as they rode, under + the moon, “did you observe the figure of a woman kneeling, with her, face + hidden in her hands?” + </p> + <p> + “I never looked that way,” replied Donatello. “I was saying my own prayer. + It was some penitent, perchance. May the Blessed Virgin be the more + gracious to the poor soul, because she is a woman.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <h3> + PICTURED WINDOWS + </h3> + <p> + After wide wanderings through the valley, the two travellers directed + their course towards its boundary of hills. Here, the natural scenery and + men’s modifications of it immediately took a different aspect from that of + the fertile and smiling plain. Not unfrequently there was a convent on the + hillside; or, on some insulated promontory, a mined castle, once the den + of a robber chieftain, who was accustomed to dash down from his commanding + height upon the road that wound below. For ages back, the old fortress had + been flinging down its crumbling ramparts, stone by stone, towards the + grimy village at its foot. + </p> + <p> + Their road wound onward among the hills, which rose steep and lofty from + the scanty level space that lay between them. They continually thrust + their great bulks before the wayfarers, as if grimly resolute to forbid + their passage, or closed abruptly behind them, when they still dared to + proceed. A gigantic hill would set its foot right down before them, and + only at the last moment would grudgingly withdraw it, just far enough to + let them creep towards another obstacle. Adown these rough heights were + visible the dry tracks of many a mountain torrent that had lived a life + too fierce and passionate to be a long one. Or, perhaps, a stream was yet + hurrying shyly along the edge of a far wider bed of pebbles and shelving + rock than it seemed to need, though not too wide for the swollen rage of + which this shy rivulet was capable. A stone bridge bestrode it, the + ponderous arches of which were upheld and rendered indestructible by the + weight of the very stones that threatened to crush them down. Old Roman + toil was perceptible in the foundations of that massive bridge; the first + weight that it ever bore was that of an army of the Republic. + </p> + <p> + Threading these defiles, they would arrive at some immemorial city, + crowning the high summit of a hill with its cathedral, its many churches, + and public edifices, all of Gothic architecture. With no more level ground + than a single piazza in the midst, the ancient town tumbled its crooked + and narrow streets down the mountainside, through arched passages and by + steps of stone. The aspect of everything was awfully old; older, indeed, + in its effect on the imagination than Rome itself, because history does + not lay its finger on these forgotten edifices and tell us all about their + origin. Etruscan princes may have dwelt in them. A thousand years, at all + events, would seem but a middle age for these structures. They are built + of such huge, square stones, that their appearance of ponderous durability + distresses the beholder with the idea that they can never fall,—never + crumble away,—never be less fit than now for human habitation. Many + of them may once have been palaces, and still retain a squalid grandeur. + But, gazing at them, we recognize how undesirable it is to build the + tabernacle of our brief lifetime out of permanent materials, and with a + view to their being occupied by future ‘generations. + </p> + <p> + All towns should be made capable of purification by fire, or of decay, + within each half-century. Otherwise, they become the hereditary haunts of + vermin and noisomeness, besides standing apart from the possibility of + such improvements as are constantly introduced into the rest of man’s + contrivances and accommodations. It is beautiful, no doubt, and + exceedingly satisfactory to some of our natural instincts, to imagine our + far posterity dwelling under the same roof-tree as ourselves. Still, when + people insist on building indestructible houses, they incur, or their + children do, a misfortune analogous to that of the Sibyl, when she + obtained the grievous boon of immortality. So we may build almost immortal + habitations, it is true; but we cannot keep them from growing old, musty, + unwholesome, dreary,—full of death scents, ghosts, and murder + stains; in short, such habitations as one sees everywhere in Italy, be + they hovels or palaces. + </p> + <p> + “You should go with me to my native country,” observed the sculptor to + Donatello. “In that fortunate land, each generation has only its own sins + and sorrows to bear. Here, it seems as if all the weary and dreary Past + were piled upon the back of the Present. If I were to lose my spirits in + this country,—if I were to suffer any heavy misfortune here,—methinks + it would be impossible to stand up against it, under such adverse + influences.” + </p> + <p> + “The sky itself is an old roof, now,” answered the Count; “and, no doubt, + the sins of mankind have made it gloomier than it used to be.” “O, my poor + Faun,” thought Kenyon to himself, “how art thou changed!” + </p> + <p> + A city, like this of which we speak, seems a sort of stony growth out of + the hillside, or a fossilized town; so ancient and strange it looks, + without enough of life and juiciness in it to be any longer susceptible of + decay. An earthquake would afford it the only chance of being ruined, + beyond its present ruin. + </p> + <p> + Yet, though dead to all the purposes for which we live to-day, the place + has its glorious recollections, and not merely rude and warlike ones, but + those of brighter and milder triumphs, the fruits of which we still enjoy. + Italy can count several of these lifeless towns which, four or five + hundred years ago, were each the birthplace of its own school of art; nor + have they yet forgotten to be proud of the dark old pictures, and the + faded frescos, the pristine beauty of which was a light and gladness to + the world. But now, unless one happens to be a painter, these famous works + make us miserably desperate. They are poor, dim ghosts of what, when + Giotto or Cimabue first created them, threw a splendor along the stately + aisles; so far gone towards nothingness, in our day, that scarcely a hint + of design or expression can glimmer through the dusk. Those early artists + did well to paint their frescos. Glowing on the church-walls, they might + be looked upon as symbols of the living spirit that made Catholicism a + true religion, and that glorified it as long as it retained a genuine + life; they filled the transepts with a radiant throng of saints and + angels, and threw around the high altar a faint reflection—as much + as mortals could see, or bear—of a Diviner Presence. But now that + the colors are so wretchedly bedimmed,—now that blotches of + plastered wall dot the frescos all over, like a mean reality thrusting + itself through life’s brightest illusions,—the next best artist to + Cimabue or Giotto or Ghirlandaio or Pinturicchio will be he that shall + reverently cover their ruined masterpieces with whitewash! + </p> + <p> + Kenyon, however, being an earnest student and critic of Art, lingered long + before these pathetic relics; and Donatello, in his present phase of + penitence, thought no time spent amiss while he could be kneeling before + an altar. Whenever they found a cathedral, therefore, or a Gothic church, + the two travellers were of one mind to enter it. In some of these holy + edifices they saw pictures that time had not dimmed nor injured in the + least, though they perhaps belonged to as old a school of Art as any that + were perishing around them. These were the painted windows; and as often + as he gazed at them the sculptor blessed the medieval time, and its + gorgeous contrivances of splendor; for surely the skill of man has never + accomplished, nor his mind imagined, any other beauty or glory worthy to + be compared with these. + </p> + <p> + It is the special excellence of pictured glass, that the light, which + falls merely on the outside of other pictures, is here interfused + throughout the work; it illuminates the design, and invests it with a + living radiance; and in requital the unfading colors transmute the common + daylight into a miracle of richness and glory in its passage through the + heavenly substance of the blessed and angelic shapes which throng the + high-arched window. + </p> + <p> + “It is a woeful thing,” cried Kenyon, while one of these frail yet + enduring and fadeless pictures threw its hues on his face, and on the + pavement of the church around him,—“a sad necessity that any + Christian soul should pass from earth without once seeing an antique + painted window, with the bright Italian sunshine glowing through it! There + is no other such true symbol of the glories of the better world, where a + celestial radiance will be inherent in all things and persons, and render + each continually transparent to the sight of all.” + </p> + <p> + “But what a horror it would be,” said Donatello sadly, “if there were a + soul among them through which the light could not be transfused!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and perhaps this is to be the punishment of sin,” replied the + sculptor; “not that it shall be made evident to the universe, which can + profit nothing by such knowledge, but that it shall insulate the sinner + from all sweet society by rendering him impermeable to light, and, + therefore, unrecognizable in the abode of heavenly simplicity and truth. + Then, what remains for him, but the dreariness of infinite and eternal + solitude?” + </p> + <p> + “That would be a horrible destiny, indeed!” said Donatello. + </p> + <p> + His voice as he spoke the words had a hollow and dreary cadence, as if he + anticipated some such frozen solitude for himself. A figure in a dark robe + was lurking in the obscurity of a side chapel close by, and made an + impulsive movement forward, but hesitated as Donatello spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “But there might be a more miserable torture than to be solitary forever,” + said he. “Think of having a single companion in eternity, and instead of + finding any consolation, or at all events variety of torture, to see your + own weary, weary sin repeated in that inseparable soul.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, my dear Count, you have never read Dante,” observed Kenyon. + “That idea is somewhat in his style, but I cannot help regretting that it + came into your mind just then.” + </p> + <p> + The dark-robed figure had shrunk back, and was quite lost to sight among + the shadows of the chapel. + </p> + <p> + “There was an English poet,” resumed Kenyon, turning again towards the + window, “who speaks of the ‘dim, religious light,’ transmitted through + painted glass. I always admired this richly descriptive phrase; but, + though he was once in Italy, I question whether Milton ever saw any but + the dingy pictures in the dusty windows of English cathedrals, imperfectly + shown by the gray English daylight. He would else have illuminated that + word ‘dim’ with some epithet that should not chase away the dimness, yet + should make it glow like a million of rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and + topazes. Is it not so with yonder window? The pictures are most brilliant + in themselves, yet dim with tenderness and reverence, because God himself + is shining through them.” + </p> + <p> + “The pictures fill me with emotion, but not such as you seem to + experience,” said Donatello. “I tremble at those awful saints; and, most + of all, at the figure above them. He glows with Divine wrath!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” said Kenyon, “how strangely your eyes have transmuted + the expression of the figure! It is divine love, not wrath!” + </p> + <p> + “To my eyes,” said Donatello stubbornly, “it is wrath, not love! Each must + interpret for himself.” + </p> + <p> + The friends left the church, and looking up, from the exterior, at the + window which they had just been contemplating within, nothing; was visible + but the merest outline of dusky shapes, Neither the individual likeness of + saint, angel, nor Saviour, and far less the combined scheme and purport of + the picture, could anywise be made out. That miracle of radiant art, thus + viewed, was nothing better than an incomprehensible obscurity, without a + gleam of beauty to induce the beholder to attempt unravelling it. + </p> + <p> + “All this,” thought the sculptor, “is a most forcible emblem of the + different aspect of religious truth and sacred story, as viewed from the + warm interior of belief, or from its cold and dreary outside. Christian + faith is a grand cathedral, with divinely pictured windows. Standing + without, you see no glory, nor can possibly imagine any; standing within, + every ray of light reveals a harmony of unspeakable splendors.” + </p> + <p> + After Kenyon and Donatello emerged from the church, however, they had + better opportunity for acts of charity and mercy than for religious + contemplation; being immediately surrounded by a swarm of beggars, who are + the present possessors of Italy, and share the spoil of the stranger with + the fleas and mosquitoes, their formidable allies. These pests—the + human ones—had hunted the two travellers at every stage of their + journey. From village to village, ragged boys and girls kept almost under + the horses’ feet; hoary grandsires and grandames caught glimpses of their + approach, and hobbled to intercept them at some point of vantage; blind + men stared them out of countenance with their sightless orbs; women held + up their unwashed babies; cripples displayed their wooden legs, their + grievous scars, their dangling, boneless arms, their broken backs, their + burden of a hump, or whatever infirmity or deformity Providence had + assigned them for an inheritance. On the highest mountain summit—in + the most shadowy ravine—there was a beggar waiting for them. In one + small village, Kenyon had the curiosity to count merely how many children + were crying, whining, and bellowing all at once for alms. They proved to + be more than forty of as ragged and dirty little imps as any in the world; + besides whom, all the wrinkled matrons, and most of the village maids, and + not a few stalwart men, held out their hands grimly, piteously, or + smilingly in the forlorn hope of whatever trifle of coin might remain in + pockets already so fearfully taxed. Had they been permitted, they would + gladly have knelt down and worshipped the travellers, and have cursed + them, without rising from their knees, if the expected boon failed to be + awarded. + </p> + <p> + Yet they were not so miserably poor but that the grown people kept houses + over their heads. + </p> + <p> + In the way of food, they had, at least, vegetables in their little + gardens, pigs and chickens to kill, eggs to fry into omelets with oil, + wine to drink, and many other things to make life comfortable. As for the + children, when no more small coin appeared to be forthcoming, they began + to laugh and play, and turn heels over head, showing themselves jolly and + vivacious brats, and evidently as well fed as needs be. The truth is, the + Italian peasantry look upon strangers as the almoners of Providence, and + therefore feel no more shame in asking and receiving alms, than in + availing themselves of providential bounties in whatever other form. + </p> + <p> + In accordance with his nature, Donatello was always exceedingly charitable + to these ragged battalions, and appeared to derive a certain consolation + from the prayers which many of them put up in his behalf. In Italy a + copper coin of minute value will often make all the difference between a + vindictive curse—death by apoplexy being the favorite one-mumbled in + an old witch’s toothless jaws, and a prayer from the same lips, so earnest + that it would seem to reward the charitable soul with at least a puff of + grateful breath to help him heavenward. Good wishes being so cheap, though + possibly not very efficacious, and anathemas so exceedingly bitter,—even + if the greater portion of their poison remain in the mouth that utters + them,—it may be wise to expend some reasonable amount in the + purchase of the former. Donatello invariably did so; and as he distributed + his alms under the pictured window, of which we have been speaking, no + less than seven ancient women lifted their hands and besought blessings on + his head. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said the sculptor, rejoicing at the happier expression which he + saw in his friend’s face. “I think your steed will not stumble with you + to-day. Each of these old dames looks as much like Horace’s Atra Cura as + can well be conceived; but, though there are seven of them, they will make + your burden on horseback lighter instead of heavier.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we to ride far?” asked the Count. + </p> + <p> + “A tolerable journey betwixt now and to-morrow noon,” Kenyon replied; + “for, at that hour, I purpose to be standing by the Pope’s statue in the + great square of Perugia.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <h3> + MARKET DAY IN PERUGIA + </h3> + <p> + Perugia, on its lofty hilltop, was reached by the two travellers before + the sun had quite kissed away the early freshness of the morning. Since + midnight, there had been a heavy, rain, bringing infinite refreshment to + the scene of verdure and fertility amid which this ancient civilization + stands; insomuch that Kenyon loitered, when they came to the gray city + wall, and was loath to give up the prospect of the sunny wilderness that + lay below. It was as green as England, and bright as Italy alone. There + was all the wide valley, sweeping down and spreading away on all sides + from the weed grown ramparts, and bounded afar by mountains, which lay + asleep in the sun, with thin mists and silvery clouds floating about their + heads by way of morning dreams. + </p> + <p> + “It lacks still two hours of noon,” said the sculptor to his friend, as + they stood under the arch of the gateway, waiting for their passports to + be examined; “will you come with me to see some admirable frescos by + Perugino? There is a hall in the Exchange, of no great magnitude, but + covered with what must have been—at the time it was painted—such + magnificence and beauty as the world had not elsewhere to show.” + </p> + <p> + “It depresses me to look at old frescos,” responded the Count; “it is a + pain, yet not enough of a pain to answer as a penance.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you look at some pictures by Fra Angelico in the Church of San + Domenico?” asked Kenyon; “they are full of religious sincerity, When one + studies them faithfully, it is like holding a conversation about heavenly + things with a tender and devout-minded man.” + </p> + <p> + “You have shown me some of Fra Angelico’s pictures, I remember,” answered + Donatello; “his angels look as if they had never taken a flight out of + heaven; and his saints seem to have been born saints, and always to have + lived so. Young maidens, and all innocent persons, I doubt not, may find + great delight and profit in looking at such holy pictures. But they are + not for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your criticism, I fancy, has great moral depth,” replied Kenyon; “and I + see in it the reason why Hilda so highly appreciates Fra Angelico’s + pictures. Well; we will let all such matters pass for to-day, and stroll + about this fine old city till noon.” + </p> + <p> + They wandered to and fro, accordingly, and lost themselves among the + strange, precipitate passages, which, in Perugia, are called streets, Some + of them are like caverns, being arched all over, and plunging down + abruptly towards an unknown darkness; which, when you have fathomed its + depths, admits you to a daylight that you scarcely hoped to behold again. + Here they met shabby men, and the careworn wives and mothers of the + people, some of whom guided children in leading strings through those dim + and antique thoroughfares, where a hundred generations had passed before + the little feet of to-day began to tread them. Thence they climbed upward + again, and came to the level plateau, on the summit of the hill, where are + situated the grand piazza and the principal public edifices. + </p> + <p> + It happened to be market day in Perugia. The great square, therefore, + presented a far more vivacious spectacle than would have been witnessed in + it at any other time of the week, though not so lively as to overcome the + gray solemnity of the architectural portion of the scene. In the shadow of + the cathedral and other old Gothic structures—seeking shelter from + the sunshine that fell across the rest of the piazza—was a crowd of + people, engaged as buyers or sellers in the petty traffic of a country + fair. Dealers had erected booths and stalls on the pavement, and + overspread them with scanty awnings, beneath which they stood, + vociferously crying their merchandise; such as shoes, hats and caps, yarn + stockings, cheap jewelry and cutlery, books, chiefly little volumes of a + religious Character, and a few French novels; toys, tinware, old iron, + cloth, rosaries of beads, crucifixes, cakes, biscuits, sugar-plums, and + innumerable little odds and ends, which we see no object in advertising. + Baskets of grapes, figs, and pears stood on the ground. Donkeys, bearing + panniers stuffed out with kitchen vegetables, and requiring an ample + roadway, roughly shouldered aside the throng. + </p> + <p> + Crowded as the square was, a juggler found room to spread out a white + cloth upon the pavement, and cover it with cups, plates, balls, cards, w + the whole material of his magic, in short,—wherewith he proceeded to + work miracles under the noonday sun. An organ grinder at one point, and a + clarion and a flute at another, accomplished what their could towards + filling the wide space with tuneful noise, Their small uproar, however, + was nearly drowned by the multitudinous voices of the people, bargaining, + quarrelling, laughing, and babbling copiously at random; for the briskness + of the mountain atmosphere, or some other cause, made everybody so + loquacious, that more words were wasted in Perugia on this one market day, + than the noisiest piazza of Rome would utter in a month. + </p> + <p> + Through all this petty tumult, which kept beguiling one’s eyes and upper + strata of thought, it was delightful to catch glimpses of the grand old + architecture that stood around the square. The life of the flitting + moment, existing in the antique shell of an age gone by, has a fascination + which we do not find in either the past or present, taken by themselves. + It might seem irreverent to make the gray cathedral and the tall, + time-worn palaces echo back the exuberant vociferation of the market; but + they did so, and caused the sound to assume a kind of poetic rhythm, and + themselves looked only the more majestic for their condescension. + </p> + <p> + On one side, there was an immense edifice devoted to public purposes, with + an antique gallery, and a range of arched and stone-mullioned windows, + running along its front; and by way of entrance it had a central Gothic + arch, elaborately wreathed around with sculptured semicircles, within + which the spectator was aware of a stately and impressive gloom. Though + merely the municipal council-house and exchange of a decayed country town, + this structure was worthy to have held in one portion of it the parliament + hall of a nation, and in the other, the state apartments of its ruler. On + another side of the square rose the mediaeval front of the cathedral, + where the imagination of a Gothic architect had long ago flowered out + indestructibly, in the first place, a grand design, and then covering it + with such abundant detail of ornament, that the magnitude of the work + seemed less a miracle than its minuteness. You would suppose that he must + have softened the stone into wax, until his most delicate fancies were + modelled in the pliant material, and then had hardened it into stone + again. The whole was a vast, black-letter page of the richest and + quaintest poetry. In fit keeping with all this old magnificence was a + great marble fountain, where again the Gothic imagination showed its + overflow and gratuity of device in the manifold sculptures which it + lavished as freely as the water did its shifting shapes. + </p> + <p> + Besides the two venerable structures which we have described, there were + lofty palaces, perhaps of as old a date, rising story above Story, and + adorned with balconies, whence, hundreds of years ago, the princely + occupants had been accustomed to gaze down at the sports, business, and + popular assemblages of the piazza. And, beyond all question, they thus + witnessed the erection of a bronze statue, which, three centuries since, + was placed on the pedestal that it still occupies. + </p> + <p> + “I never come to Perugia,” said Kenyon, “without spending as much time as + I can spare in studying yonder statue of Pope Julius the Third. Those + sculptors of the Middle Age have fitter lessons for the professors of my + art than we can find in the Grecian masterpieces. They belong to our + Christian civilization; and, being earnest works, they always express + something which we do not get from the antique. Will you look at it?” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly,” replied the Count, “for I see, even so far off, that the + statue is bestowing a benediction, and there is a feeling in my heart that + I may be permitted to share it.” + </p> + <p> + Remembering the similar idea which Miriam a short time before had + expressed, the sculptor smiled hopefully at the coincidence. They made + their way through the throng of the market place, and approached close to + the iron railing that protected the pedestal of the statue. + </p> + <p> + It was the figure of a pope, arrayed in his pontifical robes, and crowned + with the tiara. He sat in a bronze chair, elevated high above the + pavement, and seemed to take kindly yet authoritative cognizance of the + busy scene which was at that moment passing before his eye. His right hand + was raised and spread abroad, as if in the act of shedding forth a + benediction, which every man—so broad, so wise, and so serenely + affectionate was the bronze pope’s regard—might hope to feel quietly + descending upon the need, or the distress, that he had closest at his + heart. The statue had life and observation in it, as well as patriarchal + majesty. An imaginative spectator could not but be impressed with the idea + that this benignly awful representative of divine and human authority + might rise from his brazen chair, should any great public exigency demand + his interposition, and encourage or restrain the people by his gesture, or + even by prophetic utterances worthy of so grand a presence. + </p> + <p> + And in the long, calm intervals, amid the quiet lapse of ages, the pontiff + watched the daily turmoil around his seat, listening with majestic + patience to the market cries, and all the petty uproar that awoke the + echoes of the stately old piazza. He was the enduring friend of these men, + and of their forefathers and children, the familiar face of generations. + </p> + <p> + “The pope’s blessing, methinks, has fallen upon you,” observed the + sculptor, looking at his friend. + </p> + <p> + In truth, Donatello’s countenance indicated a healthier spirit than while + he was brooding in his melancholy tower. The change of scene, the breaking + up of custom, the fresh flow of incidents, the sense of being homeless, + and therefore free, had done something for our poor Faun; these + circumstances had at least promoted a reaction, which might else have been + slower in its progress. Then, no doubt, the bright day, the gay spectacle + of the market place, and the sympathetic exhilaration of so many people’s + cheerfulness, had each their suitable effect on a temper naturally prone + to be glad. Perhaps, too, he was magnetically conscious of a presence that + formerly sufficed to make him happy. Be the cause what it might, + Donatello’s eyes shone with a serene and hopeful expression while looking + upward at the bronze pope, to whose widely diffused blessing, it may be, + he attributed all this good influence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear friend,” said he, in reply to the sculptor’s remark, “I feel + the blessing upon my spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “It is wonderful,” said Kenyon, with a smile, “wonderful and delightful to + think how long a good man’s beneficence may be potent, even after his + death. How great, then, must have been the efficacy of this excellent + pontiff’s blessing while he was alive!” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard,” remarked the Count, “that there was a brazen image set up + in the wilderness, the sight of which healed the Israelites of their + poisonous and rankling wounds. If it be the Blessed Virgin’s pleasure, why + should not this holy image before us do me equal good? A wound has long + been rankling in my soul, and filling it with poison.” + </p> + <p> + “I did wrong to smile,” answered Kenyon. “It is not for me to limit + Providence in its operations on man’s spirit.” + </p> + <p> + While they stood talking, the clock in the neighboring cathedral told the + hour, with twelve reverberating strokes, which it flung down upon the + crowded market place, as if warning one and all to take advantage of the + bronze pontiff’s benediction, or of Heaven’s blessing, however proffered, + before the opportunity were lost. + </p> + <p> + “High noon,” said the sculptor. “It is Miriam’s hour!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <h3> + THE BRONZE PONTIFF’S BENEDICTION + </h3> + <p> + When the last of the twelve strokes had fallen from the cathedral clock, + Kenyon threw his eyes over the busy scene of the market place, expecting + to discern Miriam somewhere in the ‘crowd. He looked next towards the + cathedral itself, where it was reasonable to imagine that she might have + taken shelter, while awaiting her appointed time. Seeing no trace of her + in either direction, his eyes came back from their quest somewhat + disappointed, and rested on a figure which was leaning, like Donatello and + himself, on the iron balustrade that surrounded the statue. Only a moment + before, they two had been alone. + </p> + <p> + It was the figure of a woman, with her head bowed on her hands, as if she + deeply felt—what we have been endeavoring to convey into our feeble + description—the benign and awe-inspiring influence which the + pontiff’s statue exercises upon a sensitive spectator. No matter though it + were modelled for a Catholic chief priest, the desolate heart, whatever be + its religion, recognizes in that image the likeness of a father. + </p> + <p> + “Miriam,” said the sculptor, with a tremor in his voice, “is it yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “It is I,” she replied; “I am faithful to my engagement, though with many + fears.” She lifted her head, and revealed to Kenyon—revealed to + Donatello likewise—the well-remembered features of Miriam. They were + pale and worn, but distinguished even now, though less gorgeously, by a + beauty that might be imagined bright enough to glimmer with its own light + in a dim cathedral aisle, and had no need to shrink from the severer test + of the mid-day sun. But she seemed tremulous, and hardly able to go + through with a scene which at a distance she had found courage to + undertake. + </p> + <p> + “You are most welcome, Miriam!” said the sculptor, seeking to afford her + the encouragement which he saw she so greatly required. “I have a hopeful + trust that the result of this interview will be propitious. Come; let me + lead you to Donatello.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Kenyon, no!” whispered Miriam, shrinking back; “unless of his own + accord he speaks my name,—unless he bids me stay,—no word + shall ever pass between him and me. It is not that I take upon me to be + proud at this late hour. Among other feminine qualities, I threw away my + pride when Hilda cast me off.” + </p> + <p> + “If not pride, what else restrains you?” Kenyon asked, a little angry at + her unseasonable scruples, and also at this half-complaining reference to + Hilda’s just severity. “After daring so much, it is no time for fear! If + we let him part from you without a word, your opportunity of doing him + inestimable good is lost forever.” + </p> + <p> + “True; it will be lost forever!” repeated Miriam sadly. “But, dear friend, + will it be my fault? I willingly fling my woman’s pride at his feet. But—do + you not see?—his heart must be left freely to its own decision + whether to recognize me, because on his voluntary choice depends the whole + question whether my devotion will do him good or harm. Except he feel an + infinite need of me, I am a burden and fatal obstruction to him!” + </p> + <p> + “Take your own course, then, Miriam,” said Kenyon; “and, doubtless, the + crisis being what it is, your spirit is better instructed for its + emergencies than mine.” + </p> + <p> + While the foregoing words passed between them they had withdrawn a little + from the immediate vicinity of the statue, so as to be out of Donatello’s + hearing. Still, however, they were beneath the pontiff’s outstretched + hand; and Miriam, with her beauty and her sorrow, looked up into his + benignant face, as if she had come thither for his pardon and paternal + affection, and despaired of so vast a boon. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, she had not stood thus long in the public square of Perugia, + without attracting the observation of many eyes. With their quick sense of + beauty, these Italians had recognized her loveliness, and spared not to + take their fill of gazing at it; though their native gentleness and + courtesy made their homage far less obtrusive than that of Germans, + French, or Anglo-Saxons might have been. It is not improbable that Miriam + had planned this momentous interview, on so public a spot and at high + noon, with an eye to the sort of protection that would be thrown over it + by a multitude of eye-witnesses. In circumstances of profound feeling and + passion, there is often a sense that too great a seclusion cannot be + endured; there is an indefinite dread of being quite alone with the object + of our deepest interest. The species of solitude that a crowd harbors + within itself is felt to be preferable, in certain conditions of the + heart, to the remoteness of a desert or the depths of an untrodden wood. + Hatred, love, or whatever kind of too intense emotion, or even + indifference, where emotion has once been, instinctively seeks to + interpose some barrier between itself and the corresponding passion in + another breast. This, we suspect, was what Miriam had thought of, in + coming to the thronged piazza; partly this, and partly, as she said, her + superstition that the benign statue held good influences in store. + </p> + <p> + But Donatello remained leaning against the balustrade. She dared not + glance towards him, to see whether he were pale and agitated, or calm as + ice. Only, she knew that the moments were fleetly lapsing away, and that + his heart must call her soon, or the voice would never reach her. She + turned quite away from him and spoke again to the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “I have wished to meet you,” said she, “for more than one reason. News has + come to me respecting a dear friend of ours. Nay, not of mine! I dare not + call her a friend of mine, though once the dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you speak of Hilda?” exclaimed Kenyon, with quick alarm. “Has anything + befallen her? When I last heard of her, she was still in Rome, and well.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda remains in Rome,” replied Miriam, “nor is she ill as regards + physical health, though much depressed in spirits. She lives quite alone + in her dove-cote; not a friend near her, not one in Rome, which, you know, + is deserted by all but its native inhabitants. I fear for her health, if + she continue long in such solitude, with despondency preying on her mind. + I tell you this, knowing the interest which the rare beauty of her + character has awakened in you.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go to Rome!” said the sculptor, in great emotion. “Hilda has never + allowed me to manifest more than a friendly regard; but, at least, she + cannot prevent my watching over her at a humble distance. I will set out + this very hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not leave us now!” whispered Miriam imploringly, and laying her hand + on his arm. “One moment more! Ah; he has no word for me!” + </p> + <p> + “Miriam!” said Donatello. + </p> + <p> + Though but a single word, and the first that he had spoken, its tone was a + warrant of the sad and tender depth from which it came. It told Miriam + things of infinite importance, and, first of all, that he still loved her. + The sense of their mutual crime had stunned, but not destroyed, the + vitality of his affection; it was therefore indestructible. That tone, + too, bespoke an altered and deepened character; it told of a vivified + intellect, and of spiritual instruction that had come through sorrow and + remorse; so that instead of the wild boy, the thing of sportive, animal + nature, the sylvan Faun, here was now the man of feeling and intelligence. + </p> + <p> + She turned towards him, while his voice still reverberated in the depths + of her soul. + </p> + <p> + “You have called me!” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Because my deepest heart has need of you!” he replied. “Forgive, Miriam, + the coldness, the hardness with which I parted from you! I was bewildered + with strange horror and gloom.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! and it was I that brought it on you,” said she. “What repentance, + what self-sacrifice, can atone for that infinite wrong? There was + something so sacred in the innocent and joyous life which you were + leading! A happy person is such an unaccustomed and holy creature in this + sad world! And, encountering so rare a being, and gifted with the power of + sympathy with his sunny life, it was my doom, mine, to bring him within + the limits of sinful, sorrowful mortality! Bid me depart, Donatello! Fling + me off! No good, through my agency, can follow upon such a mighty evil!” + </p> + <p> + “Miriam,” said he, “our lot lies together. Is it not so? Tell me, in + Heaven’s name, if it be otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + Donatello’s conscience was evidently perplexed with doubt, whether the + communion of a crime, such as they two were jointly stained with, ought + not to stifle all the instinctive motions of their hearts, impelling them + one towards the other. Miriam, on the other hand, remorsefully questioned + with herself whether the misery, already accruing from her influence, + should not warn her to withdraw from his path. In this momentous + interview, therefore, two souls were groping for each other in the + darkness of guilt and sorrow, and hardly were bold enough to grasp the + cold hands that they found. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor stood watching the scene with earnest sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “It seems irreverent,” said he, at length; “intrusive, if not irreverent, + for a third person to thrust himself between the two solely concerned in a + crisis like the present. Yet, possibly as a bystander, though a deeply + interested one, I may discern somewhat of truth that is hidden from you + both; nay, at least interpret or suggest some ideas which you might not so + readily convey to each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” said Miriam. “We confide in you.” “Speak!” said Donatello. “You + are true and upright.” + </p> + <p> + “I well know,” rejoined Kenyon, “that I shall not succeed in uttering the + few, deep words which, in this matter, as in all others, include the + absolute truth. But here, Miriam, is one whom a terrible misfortune has + begun to educate; it has taken him, and through your agency, out of a wild + and happy state, which, within circumscribed limits, gave him joys that he + cannot elsewhere find on earth. On his behalf, you have incurred a + responsibility which you cannot fling aside. And here, Donatello, is one + whom Providence marks out as intimately connected with your destiny. The + mysterious process, by which our earthly life instructs us for another + state of being, was begun for you by her. She has rich gifts of heart and + mind, a suggestive power, a magnetic influence, a sympathetic knowledge, + which, wisely and religiously exercised, are what your condition needs. + She possesses what you require, and, with utter self devotion, will use it + for your good. The bond betwixt you, therefore, is a true one, and never—except + by Heaven’s own act—should be rent asunder.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah; he has spoken the truth!” cried Donatello, grasping Miriam’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “The very truth, dear friend,” cried Miriam. + </p> + <p> + “But take heed,” resumed the sculptor, anxious not to violate the + integrity of his own conscience, “take heed; for you love one another, and + yet your bond is twined with such black threads that you must never look + upon it as identical with the ties that unite other loving souls. It is + for mutual support; it is for one another’s final good; it is for effort, + for sacrifice, but not for earthly happiness. If such be your motive, + believe me, friends, it were better to relinquish each other’s hands at + this sad moment. There would be no holy sanction on your wedded life.” + </p> + <p> + “None,” said Donatello, shuddering. “We know it well.” + </p> + <p> + “None,” repeated Miriam, also shuddering. “United—miserably + entangled with me, rather—by a bond of guilt, our union might be for + eternity, indeed, and most intimate;—but, through all that endless + duration, I should be conscious of his horror.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for earthly bliss, therefore,” said Kenyon, “but for mutual + elevation, and encouragement towards a severe and painful life, you take + each other’s hands. And if, out of toil, sacrifice, prayer, penitence, and + earnest effort towards right things, there comes at length a sombre and + thoughtful, happiness, taste it, and thank Heaven! So that you live not + for it,—so that it be a wayside flower, springing along a path that + leads to higher ends,—it will be Heaven’s gracious gift, and a token + that it recognizes your union here below.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you no more to say?” asked Miriam earnestly. “There is matter of + sorrow and lofty consolation strangely mingled in your words.” + </p> + <p> + “Only this, dear Miriam,” said the sculptor; “if ever in your lives the + highest duty should require from either of you the sacrifice of the other, + meet the occasion without shrinking. This is all.” + </p> + <p> + While Kenyon spoke, Donatello had evidently taken in the ideas which he + propounded, and had ennobled them by the sincerity of his reception. His + aspect unconsciously assumed a dignity, which, elevating his former + beauty, accorded with the change that had long been taking place in his + interior self. He was a man, revolving grave and deep thoughts in his + breast. He still held Miriam’s hand; and there they stood, the beautiful + man, the beautiful woman, united forever, as they felt, in the presence of + these thousand eye-witnesses, who gazed so curiously at the unintelligible + scene. Doubtless the crowd recognized them as lovers, and fancied this a + betrothal that was destined to result in lifelong happiness. And possibly + it might be so. Who can tell where happiness may come; or where, though an + expected guest, it may never show its face? Perhaps—shy, subtle + thing—it had crept into this sad marriage bond, when the partners + would have trembled at its presence as a crime. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell!” said Kenyon; “I go to Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, true friend!” said Miriam. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell!” said Donatello too. “May you be happy. You have no guilt to + make you shrink from happiness.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment it so chanced that all the three friends by one impulse + glanced upward at the statue of Pope Julius; and there was the majestic + figure stretching out the hand of benediction over them, and bending down + upon this guilty and repentant pair its visage of grand benignity. There + is a singular effect oftentimes when, out of the midst of engrossing + thought and deep absorption, we suddenly look up, and catch a glimpse of + external objects. We seem at such moments to look farther and deeper into + them, than by any premeditated observation; it is as if they met our eyes + alive, and with all their hidden meaning on the surface, but grew again + inanimate and inscrutable the instant that they became aware of our + glances. So now, at that unexpected glimpse, Miriam, Donatello, and the + sculptor, all three imagined that they beheld the bronze pontiff endowed + with spiritual life. A blessing was felt descending upon them from his + outstretched hand; he approved by look and gesture the pledge of a deep + union that had passed under his auspices. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI + </h2> + <h3> + HILDA’S TOWER + </h3> + <p> + When we have once known Rome, and left her where she lies, like a + long-decaying corpse, retaining a trace of the noble shape it was, but + with accumulated dust and a fungous growth overspreading all its more + admirable features, left her in utter weariness, no doubt, of her narrow, + crooked, intricate streets, so uncomfortably paved with little squares of + lava that to tread over them is a penitential pilgrimage, so indescribably + ugly, moreover, so cold, so alley-like, into which the sun never falls, + and where a chill wind forces its deadly breath into our lungs,—left + her, tired of the sight of those immense seven-storied, yellow-washed + hovels, or call them palaces, where all that is dreary in domestic life + seems magnified and multiplied, and weary of climbing those staircases, + which ascend from a ground-floor of cook shops, cobblers’ stalls, stables, + and regiments of cavalry, to a middle region of princes, cardinals, and + ambassadors, and an upper tier of artists, just beneath the unattainable + sky,—left her, worn out with shivering at the cheerless and smoky + fireside by day, and feasting with our own substance the ravenous little + populace of a Roman bed at night,—left her, sick at heart of Italian + trickery, which has uprooted whatever faith in man’s integrity had endured + till now, and sick at stomach of sour bread, sour wine, rancid butter, and + bad cookery, needlessly bestowed on evil meats,—left her, disgusted + with the pretence of holiness and the reality of nastiness, each equally + omnipresent,—left her, half lifeless from the languid atmosphere, + the vital principle of which has been used up long ago, or corrupted by + myriads of slaughters,—left her, crushed down in spirit with the + desolation of her ruin, and the hopelessness of her future,—left + her, in short, hating her with all our might, and adding our individual + curse to the infinite anathema which her old crimes have unmistakably + brought down,—when we have left Rome in such mood as this, we are + astonished by the discovery, by and by, that our heart-strings have + mysteriously attached themselves to the Eternal City, and are drawing us + thitherward again, as if it were more familiar, more intimately our home, + than even the spot where we were born. + </p> + <p> + It is with a kindred sentiment, that we now follow the course of our story + back through the Flaminian Gate, and, treading our way to the Via + Portoghese, climb the staircase to the upper chamber of the tower where we + last saw Hilda. + </p> + <p> + Hilda all along intended to pass the summer in Rome; for she had laid out + many high and delightful tasks, which she could the better complete while + her favorite haunts were deserted by the multitude that thronged them + throughout the winter and early spring. Nor did she dread the summer + atmosphere, although generally held to be so pestilential. She had already + made trial of it, two years before, and found no worse effect than a kind + of dreamy languor, which was dissipated by the first cool breezes that + came with autumn. The thickly populated centre of the city, indeed, is + never affected by the feverish influence that lies in wait in the + Campagna, like a besieging foe, and nightly haunts those beautiful lawns + and woodlands, around the suburban villas, just at the season when they + most resemble Paradise. What the flaming sword was to the first Eden, such + is the malaria to these sweet gardens and grove. We may wander through + them, of an afternoon, it is true, but they cannot be made a home and a + reality, and to sleep among them is death. They are but illusions, + therefore, like the show of gleaming waters and shadowy foliage in a + desert. + </p> + <p> + But Rome, within the walls, at this dreaded season, enjoys its festal + days, and makes itself merry with characteristic and hereditary pas-times, + for which its broad piazzas afford abundant room. It leads its own life + with a freer spirit, now that the artists and foreign visitors are + scattered abroad. No bloom, perhaps, would be visible in a cheek that + should be unvisited, throughout the summer, by more invigorating winds + than any within fifty miles of the city; no bloom, but yet, if the mind + kept its healthy energy, a subdued and colorless well-being. There was + consequently little risk in Hilda’s purpose to pass the summer days in the + galleries of Roman palaces, and her nights in that aerial chamber, whither + the heavy breath of the city and its suburbs could not aspire. It would + probably harm her no more than it did the white doves, who sought the same + high atmosphere at sunset, and, when morning came, flew down into the + narrow streets, about their daily business, as Hilda likewise did. + </p> + <p> + With the Virgin’s aid and blessing, which might be hoped for even by a + heretic, who so religiously lit the lamp before her shrine, the New + England girl would sleep securely in her old Roman tower, and go forth on + her pictorial pilgrimages without dread or peril. In view of such a + summer, Hilda had anticipated many months of lonely, but unalloyed + enjoyment. Not that she had a churlish disinclination to society, or + needed to be told that we taste one intellectual pleasure twice, and with + double the result, when we taste it with a friend. But, keeping a maiden + heart within her bosom, she rejoiced in the freedom that enabled her still + to choose her own sphere, and dwell in it, if she pleased, without another + inmate. + </p> + <p> + Her expectation, however, of a delightful summer was woefully + disappointed. Even had she formed no previous plan of remaining there, it + is improbable that Hilda would have gathered energy to stir from Rome. A + torpor, heretofore unknown to her vivacious though quiet temperament, had + possessed itself of the poor girl, like a half-dead serpent knotting its + cold, inextricable wreaths about her limbs. It was that peculiar despair, + that chill and heavy misery, which only the innocent can experience, + although it possesses many of the gloomy characteristics that mark a sense + of guilt. It was that heartsickness, which, it is to be hoped, we may all + of us have been pure enough to feel, once in our lives, but the capacity + for which is usually exhausted early, and perhaps with a single agony. It + was that dismal certainty of the existence of evil in the world, which, + though we may fancy ourselves fully assured of the sad mystery long + before, never becomes a portion of our practical belief until it takes + substance and reality from the sin of some guide, whom we have deeply + trusted and revered, or some friend whom we have dearly loved. + </p> + <p> + When that knowledge comes, it is as if a cloud had suddenly gathered over + the morning light; so dark a cloud, that there seems to be no longer any + sunshine behind it or above it. The character of our individual beloved + one having invested itself with all the attributes of right,—that + one friend being to us the symbol and representative of whatever is good + and true,—when he falls, the effect is almost as if the sky fell + with him, bringing down in chaotic ruin the columns that upheld our faith. + We struggle forth again, no doubt, bruised and bewildered. We stare wildly + about us, and discover—or, it may be, we never make the discovery—that + it was not actually the sky that has tumbled down, but merely a frail + structure of our own rearing, which never rose higher than the housetops, + and has fallen because we founded it on nothing. But the crash, and the + affright and trouble, are as overwhelming, for the time, as if the + catastrophe involved the whole moral world. Remembering these things, let + them suggest one generous motive for walking heedfully amid the defilement + of earthly ways! Let us reflect, that the highest path is pointed out by + the pure Ideal of those who look up to us, and who, if we tread less + loftily, may never look so high again. + </p> + <p> + Hilda’s situation was made infinitely more wretched by the necessity of + Confining all her trouble within her own consciousness. To this innocent + girl, holding the knowledge of Miriam’s crime within her tender and + delicate soul, the effect was almost the same as if she herself had + participated in the guilt. Indeed, partaking the human nature of those who + could perpetrate such deeds, she felt her own spotlessness impugnent. + </p> + <p> + Had there been but a single friend,—or not a friend, since friends + were no longer to be confided in, after Miriam had betrayed her trust,—but, + had there been any calm, wise mind, any sympathizing intelligence; or, if + not these, any dull, half-listening ear into which she might have flung + the dreadful secret, as into an echoless cavern, what a relief would have + ensued! But this awful loneliness! It enveloped her whithersoever she + went. It was a shadow in the sunshine of festal days; a mist between her + eyes and the pictures at which she strove to look; a chill dungeon, which + kept her in its gray twilight and fed her with its unwholesome air, fit + only for a criminal to breathe and pine in! She could not escape from it. + In the effort to do so, straying farther into the intricate passages of + our nature, she stumbled, ever and again, over this deadly idea of mortal + guilt. + </p> + <p> + Poor sufferer for another’s sin! Poor wellspring of a virgin’s heart, into + which a murdered corpse had casually fallen, and whence it could not be + drawn forth again, but lay there, day after day, night after night, + tainting its sweet atmosphere with the scent of crime and ugly death! + </p> + <p> + The strange sorrow that had befallen Hilda did not fail to impress its + mysterious seal upon her face, and to make itself perceptible to sensitive + observers in her manner and carriage. A young Italian artist, who + frequented the same galleries which Hilda haunted, grew deeply interested + in her expression. One day, while she stood before Leonardo da Vinci’s + picture of Joanna of Aragon, but evidently without seeing it,—for, + though it had attracted her eyes, a fancied resemblance to Miriam had + immediately drawn away her thoughts,—this artist drew a hasty sketch + which he afterwards elaborated into a finished portrait. It represented + Hilda as gazing with sad and earnest horror at a bloodspot which she + seemed just then to have discovered on her white robe. The picture + attracted considerable notice. Copies of an engraving from it may still be + found in the print shops along the Corso. By many connoisseurs, the idea + of the face was supposed to have been suggested by the portrait of + Beatrice Cenci; and, in fact, there was a look somewhat similar to poor + Beatrice’s forlorn gaze out of the dreary isolation and remoteness, in + which a terrible doom had involved a tender soul. But the modern artist + strenuously upheld the originality of his own picture, as well as the + stainless purity its subject, and chose to call it—and was laughed + at for his pains—“Innocence, dying of a Blood-stain!” + </p> + <p> + “Your picture, Signore Panini, does you credit,” remarked the picture + dealer, who had bought it of the young man for fifteen scudi, and + afterwards sold it for ten times the sum; “but it would be worth a better + price if you had given it a more intelligible title. Looking at the face + and expression of this fair signorina, we seem to comprehend readily + enough, that she is undergoing one or another of those troubles of the + heart to which young ladies are but too liable. But what is this + blood-stain? And what has innocence to do with it? Has she stabbed her + perfidious lover with a bodkin?” + </p> + <p> + “She! she commit a crime!” cried the young artist. “Can you look at the + innocent anguish in her face, and ask that question? No; but, as I read + the mystery, a man has been slain in her presence, and the blood, spurting + accidentally on her white robe, has made a stain which eats into her + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, in the name of her patron saint,” exclaimed the picture dealer, + “why don’t she get the robe made white again at the expense of a few + baiocchi to her washerwoman? No, no, my dear Panini. The picture being now + my property, I shall call it ‘The Signorina’s Vengeance.’ She has stabbed + her lover overnight, and is repenting it betimes the next morning. So + interpreted, the picture becomes an intelligible and very natural + representation of a not uncommon fact.” + </p> + <p> + Thus coarsely does the world translate all finer griefs that meet its eye. + It is more a coarse world than an unkind one. + </p> + <p> + But Hilda sought nothing either from the world’s delicacy or its pity, and + never dreamed of its misinterpretations. Her doves often flew in through + the windows of the tower, winged messengers, bringing her what sympathy + they could, and uttering soft, tender, and complaining sounds, deep in + their bosoms, which soothed the girl more than a distincter utterance + might. And sometimes Hilda moaned quietly among the doves, teaching her + voice to accord with theirs, and thus finding a temporary relief from the + burden of her incommunicable sorrow, as if a little portion of it, at + least, had been told to these innocent friends, and been understood and + pitied. + </p> + <p> + When she trimmed the lamp before the Virgin’s shrine, Hilda gazed at the + sacred image, and, rude as was the workmanship, beheld, or fancied, + expressed with the quaint, powerful simplicity which sculptors sometimes + had five hundred years ago, a woman’s tenderness responding to her gaze. + If she knelt, if she prayed, if her oppressed heart besought the sympathy + of divine womanhood afar in bliss, but not remote, because forever + humanized by the memory of mortal griefs, was Hilda to be blamed? It was + not a Catholic kneeling at an idolatrous shrine, but a child lifting its + tear-stained face to seek comfort from a mother. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII + </h2> + <h3> + THE EMPTINESS OF PICTURE GALLERIES + </h3> + <p> + Hilda descended, day by day, from her dove-cote, and went to one or + another of the great old palaces,—the Pamfili Doria, the Corsini, + the Sciarra, the Borghese, the Colonna,—where the doorkeepers knew + her well, and offered her a kindly greeting. But they shook their heads + and sighed, on observing the languid step with which the poor girl toiled + up the grand marble staircases. There was no more of that cheery alacrity + with which she used to flit upward, as if her doves had lent her their + wings, nor of that glow of happy spirits which had been wont to set the + tarnished gilding of the picture frames and the shabby splendor of the + furniture all a-glimmer, as she hastened to her congenial and delightful + toil. + </p> + <p> + An old German artist, whom she often met in the galleries, once laid a + paternal hand on Hilda’s head, and bade her go back to her own country. + </p> + <p> + “Go back soon,” he said, with kindly freedom and directness, “or you will + go never more. And, if you go not, why, at least, do you spend the whole + summer-time in Rome? The air has been breathed too often, in so many + thousand years, and is not wholesome for a little foreign flower like you, + my child, a delicate wood-anemone from the western forest-land.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no task nor duty anywhere but here,” replied Hilda. “The old + masters will not set me free!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, those old masters!” cried the veteran artist, shaking his head. “They + are a tyrannous race! You will find them of too mighty a spirit to be + dealt with, for long together, by the slender hand, the fragile mind, and + the delicate heart, of a young girl. Remember that Raphael’s genius wore + out that divinest painter before half his life was lived. Since you feel + his influence powerfully enough to reproduce his miracles so well, it will + assuredly consume you like a flame.” + </p> + <p> + “That might have been my peril once,” answered Hilda. “It is not so now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, fair maiden, you stand in that peril now!” insisted the kind old + man; and he added, smiling, yet in a melancholy vein, and with a German + grotesqueness of idea, “Some fine morning, I shall come to the Pinacotheca + of the Vatican, with my palette and my brushes, and shall look for my + little American artist that sees into the very heart of the grand + pictures! And what shall I behold? A heap of white ashes on the marble + floor, just in front of the divine Raphael’s picture of the Madonna da + Foligno! Nothing more, upon my word! The fire, which the poor child feels + so fervently, will have gone into her innermost, and burnt her quite up!” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a happy martyrdom!” said Hilda, faintly smiling. “But I am + far from being worthy of it. What troubles me much, among other troubles, + is quite the reverse of what you think. The old masters hold me here, it + is true, but they no longer warm me with their influence. It is not flame + consuming, but torpor chilling me, that helps to make me wretched.” + </p> + <p> + “Perchance, then,” said the German, looking keenly at her, “Raphael has a + rival in your heart? He was your first love; but young maidens are not + always constant, and one flame is sometimes extinguished by another!” + Hilda shook her head, and turned away. She had spoken the truth, however, + in alleging that torpor, rather than fire, was what she had to dread. In + those gloomy days that had befallen her, it was a great additional + calamity that she felt conscious of the present dimness of an insight + which she once possessed in more than ordinary measure. She had lost—and + she trembled lest it should have departed forever—the faculty of + appreciating those great works of art, which heretofore had made so large + a portion of her happiness. It was no wonder. + </p> + <p> + A picture, however admirable the painter’s art, and wonderful his power, + requires of the spectator a surrender of himself, in due proportion with + the miracle which has been wrought. Let the canvas glow as it may, you + must look with the eye of faith, or its highest excellence escapes you. + There is always the necessity of helping out the painter’s art with your + own resources of sensibility and imagination. Not that these qualities + shall really add anything to what the master has effected; but they must + be put so entirely under his control, and work along with him to such an + extent, that, in a different mood, when you are cold and critical, instead + of sympathetic, you will be apt to fancy that the loftier merits of the + picture were of your own dreaming, not of his creating. + </p> + <p> + Like all revelations of the better life, the adequate perception of a + great work of art demands a gifted simplicity of vision. In this, and in + her self-surrender, and the depth and tenderness of her sympathy, had lain + Hilda’s remarkable power as a copyist of the old masters. And now that her + capacity of emotion was choked up with a horrible experience, it + inevitably followed that she should seek in vain, among those friends so + venerated and beloved, for the marvels which they had heretofore shown + her. In spite of a reverence that lingered longer than her recognition, + their poor worshipper became almost an infidel, and sometimes doubted + whether the pictorial art be not altogether a delusion. + </p> + <p> + For the first time in her life, Hilda now grew acquainted with that icy + demon of weariness, who haunts great picture galleries. He is a plausible + Mephistopheles, and possesses the magic that is the destruction of all + other magic. He annihilates color, warmth, and, more especially, sentiment + and passion, at a touch. If he spare anything, it will be some such matter + as an earthen pipkin, or a bunch of herrings by Teniers; a brass kettle, + in which you can see your rice, by Gerard Douw; a furred robe, or the + silken texture of a mantle, or a straw hat, by Van Mieris; or a + long-stalked wineglass, transparent and full of shifting reflection, or a + bit of bread and cheese, or an over-ripe peach with a fly upon it, truer + than reality itself, by the school of Dutch conjurers. These men, and a + few Flemings, whispers the wicked demon, were the only painters. The + mighty Italian masters, as you deem them, were not human, nor addressed + their work to human sympathies, but to a false intellectual taste, which + they themselves were the first to create. Well might they call their + doings “art,” for they substituted art instead of nature. Their fashion is + past, and ought, indeed, to have died and been buried along with them. + </p> + <p> + Then there is such a terrible lack of variety in their subjects. The + churchmen, their great patrons, suggested most of their themes, and a dead + mythology the rest. A quarter part, probably, of any large collection of + pictures consists of Virgins and infant Christs, repeated over and over + again in pretty much an identical spirit, and generally with no more + mixture of the Divine than just enough to spoil them as representations of + maternity and childhood, with which everybody’s heart might have something + to do. Half of the other pictures are Magdalens, Flights into Egypt, + Crucifixions, Depositions from the Cross, Pietas, Noli-me-tangeres, or the + Sacrifice of Abraham, or martyrdoms of saints, originally painted as + altar-pieces, or for the shrines of chapels, and woefully lacking the + accompaniments which the artist haft in view. + </p> + <p> + The remainder of the gallery comprises mythological subjects, such as nude + Venuses, Ledas, Graces, and, in short, a general apotheosis of nudity, + once fresh and rosy perhaps, but yellow and dingy in our day, and + retaining only a traditionary charm. These impure pictures are from the + same illustrious and impious hands that adventured to call before us the + august forms of Apostles and Saints, the Blessed Mother of the Redeemer, + and her Son, at his death, and in his glory, and even the awfulness of + Him, to whom the martyrs, dead a thousand years ago, have not yet dared to + raise their eyes. They seem to take up one task or the other w the + disrobed woman whom they call Venus, or the type of highest and tenderest + womanhood in the mother of their Saviour with equal readiness, but to + achieve the former with far more satisfactory success. If an artist + sometimes produced a picture of the Virgin, possessing warmth enough to + excite devotional feelings, it was probably the object of his earthly love + to whom he thus paid the stupendous and fearful homage of setting up her + portrait to be worshipped, not figuratively as a mortal, but by religious + souls in their earnest aspirations towards Divinity. And who can trust the + religious sentiment of Raphael, or receive any of his Virgins as + heaven-descended likenesses, after seeing, for example, the Fornarina of + the Barberini Palace, and feeling how sensual the artist must have been to + paint such a brazen trollop of his own accord, and lovingly? Would the + Blessed Mary reveal herself to his spiritual vision, and favor him with + sittings alternately with that type of glowing earthliness, the Fornarina? + </p> + <p> + But no sooner have we given expression to this irreverent criticism, than + a throng of spiritual faces look reproachfully upon us. We see cherubs by + Raphael, whose baby innocence could only have been nursed in paradise; + angels by Raphael as innocent as they, but whose serene intelligence + embraces both earthly and celestial things; madonnas by Raphael, on whose + lips he has impressed a holy and delicate reserve, implying sanctity on + earth, and into whose soft eyes he has thrown a light which he never could + have imagined except by raising his own eyes with a pure aspiration + heavenward. We remember, too, that divinest countenance in the + Transfiguration, and withdraw all that we have said. + </p> + <p> + Poor Hilda, however, in her gloomiest moments, was never guilty of the + high treason suggested in the above remarks against her beloved and + honored Raphael. She had a faculty (which, fortunately for themselves, + pure women often have) of ignoring all moral blotches in a character that + won her admiration. She purified the objects; of her regard by the mere + act of turning such spotless eyes upon them. + </p> + <p> + Hilda’s despondency, nevertheless, while it dulled her perceptions in one + respect, had deepened them in another; she saw beauty less vividly, but + felt truth, or the lack of it, more profoundly. She began to suspect that + some, at least, of her venerated painters, had left an inevitable + hollowness in their works, because, in the most renowned of them, they + essayed to express to the world what they had not in their own souls. They + deified their light and Wandering affections, and were continually playing + off the tremendous jest, alluded to above, of offering the features of + some venal beauty to be enshrined in the holiest places. A deficiency of + earnestness and absolute truth is generally discoverable in Italian + pictures, after the art had become consummate. When you demand what is + deepest, these painters have not wherewithal to respond. They substituted + a keen intellectual perception, and a marvellous knack of external + arrangement, instead of the live sympathy and sentiment which should have + been their inspiration. And hence it happens, that shallow and worldly men + are among the best critics of their works; a taste for pictorial art is + often no more than a polish upon the hard enamel of an artificial + character. Hilda had lavished her whole heart upon it, and found (just as + if she had lavished it upon a human idol) that the greater part was thrown + away. + </p> + <p> + For some of the earlier painters, however, she still retained much of her + former reverence. Fra Angelico, she felt, must have breathed a humble + aspiration between every two touches of his brush, in order to have made + the finished picture such a visible prayer as we behold it, in the guise + of a prim angel, or a saint without the human nature. Through all these + dusky centuries, his works may still help a struggling heart to pray. + Perugino was evidently a devout man; and the Virgin, therefore, revealed + herself to him in loftier and sweeter faces of celestial womanhood, and + yet with a kind of homeliness in their human mould, than even the genius + of Raphael could imagine. Sodoma, beyond a question, both prayed and wept, + while painting his fresco, at Siena, of Christ bound to a pillar. + </p> + <p> + In her present need and hunger for a spiritual revelation, Hilda felt a + vast and weary longing to see this last-mentioned picture once again. It + is inexpressibly touching. So weary is the Saviour and utterly worn out + with agony, that his lips have fallen apart from mere exhaustion; his eyes + seem to be set; he tries to lean his head against the pillar, but is kept + from sinking down upon the ground only by the cords that bind him. One of + the most striking effects produced is the sense of loneliness. You behold + Christ deserted both in heaven and earth; that despair is in him which + wrung forth the saddest utterance man ever made, “Why hast Thou forsaken + me?” Even in this extremity, however, he is still divine. The great and + reverent painter has not suffered the Son of God to be merely an object of + pity, though depicting him in a state so profoundly pitiful. He is rescued + from it, we know not how,—by nothing less than miracle,—by a + celestial majesty and beauty, and some quality of which these are the + outward garniture. He is as much, and as visibly, our Redeemer, there + bound, there fainting, and bleeding from the scourge, with the cross in + view, as if he sat on his throne of glory in the heavens! Sodoma, in this + matchless picture, has done more towards reconciling the incongruity of + Divine Omnipotence and outraged, suffering Humanity, combined in one + person, than the theologians ever did. + </p> + <p> + This hallowed work of genius shows what pictorial art, devoutly exercised, + might effect in behalf of religious truth; involving, as it does, deeper + mysteries of revelation, and bringing them closer to man’s heart, and + making him tenderer to be impressed by them, than the most eloquent words + of preacher or prophet. + </p> + <p> + It is not of pictures like the above that galleries, in Rome or elsewhere, + are made up, but of productions immeasurably below them, and requiring to + be appreciated by a very different frame of mind. Few amateurs are endowed + with a tender susceptibility to the sentiment of a picture; they are not + won from an evil life, nor anywise morally improved by it. The love of + art, therefore, differs widely in its influence from the love of nature; + whereas, if art had not strayed away from its legitimate paths and aims, + it ought to soften and sweeten the lives of its worshippers, in even a + more exquisite degree than the contemplation of natural objects. But, of + its own potency, it has no such effect; and it fails, likewise, in that + other test of its moral value which poor Hilda was now involuntarily + trying upon it. It cannot comfort the heart in affliction; it grows dim + when the shadow is upon us. + </p> + <p> + So the melancholy girl wandered through those long galleries, and over the + mosaic pavements of vast, solitary saloons, wondering what had become of + the splendor that used to beam upon her from the walls. She grew sadly + critical, and condemned almost everything that she was wont to admire. + Heretofore, her sympathy went deeply into a picture, yet seemed to leave a + depth which it was inadequate to sound; now, on the contrary, her + perceptive faculty penetrated the canvas like a steel probe, and found but + a crust of paint over an emptiness. Not that she gave up all art as + worthless; only it had lost its consecration. One picture in ten thousand, + perhaps, ought to live in the applause of mankind, from generation to + generation, until the colors fade and blacken out of sight, or the canvas + rot entirely away. For the rest, let them be piled in garrets, just as the + tolerable poets are shelved, when their little day is over. Is a painter + more sacred than a poet? + </p> + <p> + And as for these galleries of Roman palaces, they were to Hilda, —though + she still trod them with the forlorn hope of getting back her sympathies,—they + were drearier than the whitewashed walls of a prison corridor. If a + magnificent palace were founded, as was generally the case, on hardened + guilt and a stony conscience,—if the prince or cardinal who stole + the marble of his vast mansion from the Coliseum, or some Roman temple, + had perpetrated still deadlier crimes, as probably he did,—there + could be no fitter punishment for his ghost than to wander, perpetually + through these long suites of rooms, over the cold marble or mosaic of the + floors, growing chiller at every eternal footstep. Fancy the progenitor of + the Dorias thus haunting those heavy halls where his posterity reside! Nor + would it assuage his monotonous misery, but increase it manifold, to be + compelled to scrutinize those masterpieces of art, which he collected with + so much cost and care, and gazing at them unintelligently, still leave a + further portion of his vital warmth at every one. + </p> + <p> + Such, or of a similar kind, is the torment of those who seek to enjoy + pictures in an uncongenial mood. Every haunter of picture galleries, we + should imagine, must have experienced it, in greater or less degree; Hilda + never till now, but now most bitterly. + </p> + <p> + And now, for the first time in her lengthened absence, comprising so many + years of her young life, she began to be acquainted with the exile’s pain. + Her pictorial imagination brought up vivid scenes of her native village, + with its great old elm-trees; and the neat, comfortable houses, scattered + along the wide, grassy margin of its street, and the white meeting-house, + and her mother’s very door, and the stream of gold brown water, which her + taste for color had kept flowing, all this while, through her remembrance. + O dreary streets, palaces, churches, and imperial sepulchres of hot and + dusty Rome, with the muddy Tiber eddying through the midst, instead of the + gold-brown rivulet! How she pined under this crumbly magnificence, as if + it were piled all upon her human heart! How she yearned for that native + homeliness, those familiar sights, those faces which she had known always, + those days that never brought any strange event; that life of sober + week-days, and a solemn sabbath at the close! The peculiar fragrance of a + flower-bed, which Hilda used to cultivate, came freshly to her memory, + across the windy sea, and through the long years since the flowers had + withered. Her heart grew faint at the hundred reminiscences that were + awakened by that remembered smell of dead blossoms; it was like opening a + drawer, where many things were laid away, and every one of them scented + with lavender and dried rose-leaves. + </p> + <p> + We ought not to betray Hilda’s secret; but it is the truth, that being so + sad, and so utterly alone, and in such great need of sympathy, her + thoughts sometimes recurred to the sculptor. Had she met him now, her + heart, indeed, might not have been won, but her confidence would have + flown to him like a bird to its nest. One summer afternoon, especially, + Hilda leaned upon the battlements of her tower, and looked over Rome + towards the distant mountains, whither Kenyon had told her that he was + going. + </p> + <p> + “O that he were here!” she sighed; “I perish under this terrible secret; + and he might help me to endure it. O that he were here!” + </p> + <p> + That very afternoon, as the reader may remember, Kenyon felt Hilda’s hand + pulling at the silken cord that was connected with his heart-strings, as + he stood looking towards Rome from the battlements of Monte Beni. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <h3> + ALTARS AND INCENSE + </h3> + <p> + Rome has a certain species of consolation readier at hand, for all the + necessitous, than any other spot under the sun; and Hilda’s despondent + state made her peculiarly liable to the peril, if peril it can justly be + termed, of seeking, or consenting, to be thus consoled. + </p> + <p> + Had the Jesuits known the situation of this troubled heart, her + inheritance of New England Puritanism would hardly have protected the poor + girl from the pious strategy of those good fathers. Knowing, as they do, + how to work each proper engine, it would have been ultimately impossible + for Hilda to resist the attractions of a faith, which so marvellously + adapts itself to every human need. Not, indeed, that it can satisfy the + soul’s cravings, but, at least, it can sometimes help the soul towards a + higher satisfaction than the faith contains within itself. It supplies a + multitude of external forms, in which the spiritual may be clothed and + manifested; it has many painted windows, as it were, through which the + celestial sunshine, else disregarded, may make itself gloriously + perceptible in visions of beauty and splendor. There is no one want or + weakness of human nature for which Catholicism will own itself without a + remedy; cordials, certainly, it possesses in abundance, and sedatives in + inexhaustible variety, and what may once have been genuine medicaments, + though a little the worse for long keeping. + </p> + <p> + To do it justice, Catholicism is such a miracle of fitness for its own + ends, many of which might seem to be admirable ones, that it is difficult + to imagine it a contrivance of mere man. Its mighty machinery was forged + and put together, not on middle earth, but either above or below. If there + were but angels to work it, instead of the very different class of + engineers who now manage its cranks and safety valves, the system would + soon vindicate the dignity and holiness of its origin. + </p> + <p> + Hilda had heretofore made many pilgrimages among the churches of Rome, for + the sake of wondering at their gorgeousness. Without a glimpse at these + palaces of worship, it is impossible to imagine the magnificence of the + religion that reared them. Many of them shine with burnished gold. They + glow with pictures. Their walls, columns, and arches seem a quarry of + precious stones, so beautiful and costly are the marbles with which they + are inlaid. Their pavements are often a mosaic, of rare workmanship. + Around their lofty cornices hover flights of sculptured angels; and within + the vault of the ceiling and the swelling interior of the dome, there are + frescos of such brilliancy, and wrought with so artful a perspective, that + the sky, peopled with sainted forms, appears to be opened only a little + way above the spectator. Then there are chapels, opening from the side + aisles and transepts, decorated by princes for their own burial places, + and as shrines for their especial saints. In these, the splendor of the + entire edifice is intensified and gathered to a focus. Unless words were + gems, that would flame with many-colored light upon the page, and throw + thence a tremulous glimmer into the reader’s eyes, it were wain to attempt + a description of a princely chapel. + </p> + <p> + Restless with her trouble, Hilda now entered upon another pilgrimage among + these altars and shrines. She climbed the hundred steps of the Ara Coeli; + she trod the broad, silent nave of St. John Lateran; she stood in the + Pantheon, under the round opening in the dome, through which the blue + sunny sky still gazes down, as it used to gaze when there were Roman + deities in the antique niches. She went into every church that rose before + her, but not now to wonder at its magnificence, when she hardly noticed + more than if it had been the pine-built interior of a New England + meeting-house. + </p> + <p> + She went—and it was a dangerous errand—to observe how closely + and comfortingly the popish faith applied itself to all human occasions. + It was impossible to doubt that multitudes of people found their spiritual + advantage in it, who would find none at all in our own formless mode of + worship; which, besides, so far as the sympathy of prayerful souls is + concerned, can be enjoyed only at stated and too unfrequent periods. But + here, whenever the hunger for divine nutriment came upon the soul, it + could on the instant be appeased. At one or another altar, the incense was + forever ascending; the mass always being performed, and carrying upward + with it the devotion of such as had not words for their own prayer. And + yet, if the worshipper had his individual petition to offer, his own + heart-secret to whisper below his breath, there were divine auditors ever + ready to receive it from his lips; and what encouraged him still more, + these auditors had not always been divine, but kept, within their heavenly + memories, the tender humility of a human experience. Now a saint in + heaven, but once a man on earth. + </p> + <p> + Hilda saw peasants, citizens, soldiers, nobles, women with bare heads, + ladies in their silks, entering the churches individually, kneeling for + moments or for hours, and directing their inaudible devotions to the + shrine of some saint of their own choice. In his hallowed person, they + felt themselves possessed of an own friend in heaven. They were too humble + to approach the Deity directly. Conscious of their unworthiness, they + asked the mediation of their sympathizing patron, who, on the score of his + ancient martyrdom, and after many ages of celestial life, might venture to + talk with the Divine Presence, almost as friend with friend. Though dumb + before its Judge, even despair could speak, and pour out the misery of its + soul like water, to an advocate so wise to comprehend the case, and + eloquent to plead it, and powerful to win pardon whatever were the guilt. + Hilda witnessed what she deemed to be an example of this species of + confidence between a young man and his saint. He stood before a shrine, + writhing, wringing his hands, contorting his whole frame in an agony of + remorseful recollection, but finally knelt down to weep and pray. If this + youth had been a Protestant, he would have kept all that torture pent up + in his heart, and let it burn there till it seared him into indifference. + </p> + <p> + Often and long, Hilda lingered before the shrines and chapels of the + Virgin, and departed from them with reluctant steps. Here, perhaps, + strange as it may seem, her delicate appreciation of art stood her in good + stead, and lost Catholicism a convert. If the painter had represented Mary + with a heavenly face, poor Hilda was now in the very mood to worship her, + and adopt the faith in which she held so elevated a position. But she saw + that it was merely the flattered portrait of an earthly beauty; the wife, + at best, of the artist; or, it might be, a peasant girl of the Campagna, + or some Roman princess, to whom he desired to pay his court. For love, or + some even less justifiable motive, the old painter had apotheosized these + women; he thus gained for them, as far as his skill would go, not only the + meed of immortality, but the privilege of presiding over Christian altars, + and of being worshipped with far holier fervors than while they dwelt on + earth. Hilda’s fine sense of the fit and decorous could not be betrayed + into kneeling at such a shrine. + </p> + <p> + She never found just the virgin mother whom she needed. Here it was an + earthly mother, worshipping the earthly baby in her lap, as any and every + mother does, from Eve’s time downward. In another picture, there was a dim + sense, shown in the mother’s face, of some divine quality in the child. In + a third, the artist seemed to have had a higher perception, and had + striven hard to shadow out the Virgin’s joy at bringing the Saviour into + the world, and her awe and love, inextricably mingled, of the little form + which she pressed against her bosom. So far was good. But still, Hilda + looked for something more; a face of celestial beauty, but human as well + as heavenly, and with the shadow of past grief upon it; bright with + immortal youth, yet matronly and motherly; and endowed with a queenly + dignity, but infinitely tender, as the highest and deepest attribute of + her divinity. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” thought Hilda to herself, “why should not there be a woman to listen + to the prayers of women? A mother in heaven for all motherless girls like + me? In all God’s thought and care for us, can he have withheld this boon, + which our weakness so much needs?” + </p> + <p> + Oftener than to the other churches, she wandered into St. Peter’s. Within + its vast limits, she thought, and beneath the sweep of its great dome, + there should be space for all forms of Christian truth; room both for the + faithful and the heretic to kneel; due help for every creature’s spiritual + want. + </p> + <p> + Hilda had not always been adequately impressed by the grandeur of this + mighty cathedral. When she first lifted the heavy leathern curtain, at one + of the doors, a shadowy edifice in her imagination had been dazzled out of + sight by the reality. Her preconception of St. Peter’s was a structure of + no definite outline, misty in its architecture, dim and gray and huge, + stretching into an interminable perspective, and overarched by a dome like + the cloudy firmament. Beneath that vast breadth and height, as she had + fancied them, the personal man might feel his littleness, and the soul + triumph in its immensity. So, in her earlier visits, when the compassed + splendor Of the actual interior glowed before her eyes, she had profanely + called it a great prettiness; a gay piece of cabinet work, on a Titanic + scale; a jewel casket, marvellously magnified. + </p> + <p> + This latter image best pleased her fancy; a casket, all inlaid in the + inside with precious stones of various hue, so that there Should not be a + hair’s-breadth of the small interior unadorned with its resplendent gem. + Then, conceive this minute wonder of a mosaic box, increased to the + magnitude of a cathedral, without losing the intense lustre of its + littleness, but all its petty glory striving to be sublime. The magic + transformation from the minute to the vast has not been so cunningly + effected but that the rich adornment still counteracts the impression of + space and loftiness. The spectator is more sensible of its limits than of + its extent. + </p> + <p> + Until after many visits, Hilda continued to mourn for that dim, + illimitable interior, which with her eyes shut she had seen from + childhood, but which vanished at her first glimpse through the actual + door. Her childish vision seemed preferable to the cathedral which Michael + Angelo, and all the great architects, had built; because, of the dream + edifice, she had said, “How vast it is!” while of the real St. Peter’s she + could only say, “After all, it is not so immense!” Besides, such as the + church is, it can nowhere be made visible at one glance. It stands in its + own way. You see an aisle, or a transept; you see the nave, or the + tribune; but, on account of its ponderous piers and other obstructions, it + is only by this fragmentary process that you get an idea of the cathedral. + </p> + <p> + There is no answering such objections. The great church smiles calmly upon + its critics, and, for all response, says, “Look at me!” and if you still + murmur for the loss of your shadowy perspective, there comes no reply, + save, “Look at me!” in endless repetition, as the one thing to be said. + And, after looking many times, with long intervals between, you discover + that the cathedral has gradually extended itself over the whole compass of + your idea; it covers all the site of your visionary temple, and has room + for its cloudy pinnacles beneath the dome. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, as Hilda entered St. Peter’s in sombre mood, its interior + beamed upon her with all the effect of a new creation. It seemed an + embodiment of whatever the imagination could conceive, or the heart + desire, as a magnificent, comprehensive, majestic symbol of religious + faith. All splendor was included within its verge, and there was space for + all. She gazed with delight even at the multiplicity of ornament. She was + glad at the cherubim that fluttered upon the pilasters, and of the marble + doves, hovering unexpectedly, with green olive-branches of precious + stones. She could spare nothing, now, of the manifold magnificence that + had been lavished, in a hundred places, richly enough to have made + world-famous shrines in any other church, but which here melted away into + the vast sunny breadth, and were of no separate account. Yet each + contributed its little all towards the grandeur of the whole. + </p> + <p> + She would not have banished one of those grim popes, who sit each over his + own tomb, scattering cold benedictions out of their marble hands; nor a + single frozen sister of the Allegoric family, to whom—as, like hired + mourners at an English funeral, it costs them no wear and tear of heart—is + assigned the office of weeping for the dead. If you choose to see these + things, they present themselves; if you deem them unsuitable and out of + place, they vanish, individually, but leave their life upon the walls. + </p> + <p> + The pavement! it stretched out illimitably, a plain of many-colored + marble, where thousands of worshippers might kneel together, and + shadowless angels tread among them without brushing their heavenly + garments against those earthly ones. The roof! the dome! Rich, gorgeous, + filled with sunshine, cheerfully sublime, and fadeless after centuries, + those lofty depths seemed to translate the heavens to mortal + comprehension, and help the spirit upward to a yet higher and wider + sphere. Must not the faith, that built this matchless edifice, and warmed, + illuminated, and overflowed from it, include whatever can satisfy human + aspirations at the loftiest, or minister to human necessity at the sorest? + If Religion had a material home, was it not here? + </p> + <p> + As the scene which we but faintly suggest shone calmly before the New + England maiden at her entrance, she moved, as if by very instinct, to one + of the vases of holy water, upborne against a column by two mighty + cherubs. Hilda dipped her fingers, and had almost signed the cross upon + her breast, but forbore, and trembled, while shaking the water from her + finger-tips. She felt as if her mother’s spirit, somewhere within the + dome, were looking down upon her child, the daughter of Puritan + forefathers, and weeping to behold her ensnared by these gaudy + superstitions. So she strayed sadly onward, up the nave, and towards the + hundred golden lights that swarm before the high altar. Seeing a woman; a + priest, and a soldier kneel to kiss the toe of the brazen St. Peter, who + protrudes it beyond his pedestal for the purpose, polished bright with + former salutations, while a child stood on tiptoe to do the same, the + glory of the church was darkened before Hilda’s eyes. But again she went + onward into remoter regions. She turned into the right transept, and + thence found her way to a shrine, in the extreme corner of the edifice, + which is adorned with a mosaic copy of Guido’s beautiful Archangel, + treading on the prostrate fiend. + </p> + <p> + This was one of the few pictures, which, in these dreary days, had not + faded nor deteriorated in Hilda’s estimation; not that it was better than + many in which she no longer took an interest; but the subtile delicacy of + the painter’s genius was peculiarly adapted to her character. She felt, + while gazing at it, that the artist had done a great thing, not merely for + the Church of Rome, but for the cause of Good. The moral of the picture, + the immortal youth and loveliness of virtue, and its irresistibles might + against ugly Evil, appealed as much to Puritans as Catholics. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, and as if it were done in a dream, Hilda found herself kneeling + before the shrine, under the ever-burning lamp that throws its rays upon + the Archangel’s face. She laid her forehead on the marble steps before the + altar, and sobbed out a prayer; she hardly knew to whom, whether Michael, + the Virgin, or the Father; she hardly knew for what, save only a vague + longing, that thus the burden of her spirit might be lightened a little. + </p> + <p> + In an instant she snatched herself up, as it were, from her knees, all + a-throb with the emotions which were struggling to force their way out of + her heart by the avenue that had so nearly been opened for them. Yet there + was a strange sense of relief won by that momentary, passionate prayer; a + strange joy, moreover, whether from what she had done, or for what she had + escaped doing, Hilda could not tell. But she felt as one half stifled, who + has stolen a breath of air. + </p> + <p> + Next to the shrine where she had knelt there is another, adorned with a + picture by Guercino, representing a maiden’s body in the jaws of the + sepulchre, and her lover weeping over it; while her beatified spirit looks + down upon the scene, in the society of the Saviour and a throng of saints. + Hilda wondered if it were not possible, by some miracle of faith, so to + rise above her present despondency that she might look down upon what she + was, just as Petronilla in the picture looked at her own corpse. A hope, + born of hysteric trouble, fluttered in her heart. A presentiment, or what + she fancied such, whispered her, that, before she had finished the circuit + of the cathedral, relief would come. + </p> + <p> + The unhappy are continually tantalized by similar delusions of succor near + at hand; at least, the despair is very dark that has no such + will-o’-the-wisp to glimmer in it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX + </h2> + <h3> + THE WORLD’S CATHEDRAL + </h3> + <p> + Still gliding onward, Hilda now looked up into the dome, where the + sunshine came through the western windows, and threw across long shafts of + light. They rested upon the mosaic figures of two evangelists above the + cornice. These great beams of radiance, traversing what seemed the empty + space, were made visible in misty glory, by the holy cloud of incense, + else unseen, which had risen into the middle dome. It was to Hilda as if + she beheld the worship of the priest and people ascending heavenward, + purified from its alloy of earth, and acquiring celestial substance in the + golden atmosphere to which it aspired, She wondered if angels did not + sometimes hover within the dome, and show themselves, in brief glimpses, + floating amid the sunshine and the glorified vapor, to those who devoutly + worshipped on the pavement. + </p> + <p> + She had now come into the southern transept. Around this portion of the + church are ranged a number of confessionals. They are small tabernacles of + carved wood, with a closet for the priest in the centre; and, on either + side, a space for a penitent to kneel, and breathe his confession through + a perforated auricle into the good father’s ear. Observing this + arrangement, though already familiar to her, our poor Hilda was anew + impressed with the infinite convenience—if we may use so poor a + phrase—of the Catholic religion to its devout believers. + </p> + <p> + Who, in truth, that considers the matter, can resist a similar impression! + In the hottest fever-fit of life, they can always find, ready for their + need, a cool, quiet, beautiful place of worship. They may enter its sacred + precincts at any hour, leaving the fret and trouble of the world behind + them, and purifying themselves with a touch of holy water at the + threshold. In the calm interior, fragrant of rich and soothing incense, + they may hold converse with some saint, their awful, kindly friend. And, + most precious privilege of all, whatever perplexity, sorrow, guilt, may + weigh upon their souls, they can fling down the dark burden at the foot of + the cross, and go forth—to sin no more, nor be any longer + disquieted; but to live again in the freshness and elasticity of + innocence. + </p> + <p> + “Do not these inestimable advantages,” thought Hilda, “or some of them at + least, belong to Christianity itself? Are they not a part of the blessings + which the system was meant to bestow upon mankind? Can the faith in which + I was born and bred be perfect, if it leave a weak girl like me to wander, + desolate, with this great trouble crushing me down?” + </p> + <p> + A poignant anguish thrilled within her breast; it was like a thing that + had life, and was struggling to get out. + </p> + <p> + “O help! O help!” cried Hilda; “I cannot, cannot bear it!” + </p> + <p> + Only by the reverberations that followed—arch echoing the sound to + arch, and a pope of bronze repeating it to a pope of marble, as each sat + enthroned over his tomb—did Hilda become aware that she had really + spoken above her breath. But, in that great space, there is no need to + hush up the heart within one’s own bosom, so carefully as elsewhere; and + if the cry reached any distant auditor, it came broken into many + fragments, and from various quarters of the church. + </p> + <p> + Approaching one of the confessionals, she saw a woman kneeling within. + Just as Hilda drew near, the penitent rose, came forth, and kissed the + hand of the priest, who regarded her with a look of paternal benignity, + and appeared to be giving her some spiritual counsel, in a low voice. She + then knelt to receive his blessing, which was fervently bestowed. Hilda + was so struck with the peace and joy in the woman’s face, that, as the + latter retired, she could not help speaking to her. + </p> + <p> + “You look very happy!” said she. “Is it so sweet, then, to go to the + confessional?” + </p> + <p> + “O, very sweet, my dear signorina!” answered the woman, with moistened + eyes and an affectionate smile; for she was so thoroughly softened with + what she had been doing, that she felt as if Hilda were her younger + sister. “My heart is at rest now. Thanks be to the Saviour, and the + Blessed Virgin and the saints, and this good father, there is no more + trouble for poor Teresa!” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad for your sake,” said Hilda, sighing for her own. “I am a poor + heretic, but a human sister; and I rejoice for you!” + </p> + <p> + She went from one to another of the confessionals, and, looking at each, + perceived that they were inscribed with gilt letters: on one, Pro Italica + Lingua; on another, Pro Flandrica Lingua; on a third, Pro Polonica Lingua; + on a fourth, Pro Illyrica Lingua; on a fifth, Pro Hispanica Lingua. In + this vast and hospitable cathedral, worthy to be the religious heart of + the whole world, there was room for all nations; there was access to the + Divine Grace for every Christian soul; there was an ear for what the + overburdened heart might have to murmur, speak in what native tongue it + would. + </p> + <p> + When Hilda had almost completed the circuit of the transept, she came to a + confessional—the central part was closed, but a mystic room + protruded from it, indicating the presence of a priest within—on + which was inscribed, Pro Anglica Lingua. + </p> + <p> + It was the word in season! If she had heard her mother’s voice from within + the tabernacle, calling her, in her own mother-tongue, to come and lay her + poor head in her lap, and sob out all her troubles, Hilda could not have + responded with a more inevitable obedience. She did not think; she only + felt. Within her heart was a great need. Close at hand, within the veil of + the confessional, was the relief. She flung herself down in the penitent’s + place; and, tremulously, passionately, with sobs, tears, and the turbulent + overflow of emotion too long repressed, she poured out the dark story + which had infused its poison into her innocent life. + </p> + <p> + Hilda had not seen, nor could she now see, the visage of the priest. But, + at intervals, in the pauses of that strange confession, half choked by the + struggle of her feelings toward an outlet, she heard a mild, calm voice, + somewhat mellowed by age. It spoke soothingly; it encouraged her; it led + her on by apposite questions that seemed to be suggested by a great and + tender interest, and acted like magnetism in attracting the girl’s + confidence to this unseen friend. The priest’s share in the interview, + indeed, resembled that of one who removes the stones, clustered branches, + or whatever entanglements impede the current of a swollen stream. Hilda + could have imagined—so much to the purpose were his inquiries—that + he was already acquainted with some outline of what she strove to tell + him. + </p> + <p> + Thus assisted, she revealed the whole of her terrible secret! The whole, + except that no name escaped her lips. + </p> + <p> + And, ah, what a relief! When the hysteric gasp, the strife between words + and sobs, had subsided, what a torture had passed away from her soul! It + was all gone; her bosom was as pure now as in her childhood. She was a + girl again; she was Hilda of the dove-cote; not that doubtful creature + whom her own doves had hardly recognized as their mistress and playmate, + by reason of the death-scent that clung to her garments! + </p> + <p> + After she had ceased to speak, Hilda heard the priest bestir himself with + an old man’s reluctant movement. He stepped out of the confessional; and + as the girl was still kneeling in the penitential corner, he summoned her + forth. + </p> + <p> + “Stand up, my daughter,” said the mild voice of the confessor; “what we + have further to say must be spoken face to face.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda did his bidding, and stood before him with a downcast visage, which + flushed and grew pale again. But it had the wonderful beauty which we may + often observe in those who have recently gone through a great struggle, + and won the peace that lies just on the other side. We see it in a new + mother’s face; we see it in the faces of the dead; and in Hilda’s + countenance—which had always a rare natural charm for her friends—this + glory of peace made her as lovely as an angel. + </p> + <p> + On her part, Hilda beheld a venerable figure with hair as white as snow, + and a face strikingly characterized by benevolence. It bore marks of + thought, however, and penetrative insight; although the keen glances of + the eyes were now somewhat bedimmed with tears, which the aged shed, or + almost shed, on lighter stress of emotion than would elicit them from + younger men. + </p> + <p> + “It has not escaped my observation, daughter,” said the priest, “that this + is your first acquaintance with the confessional. How is this?” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” replied Hilda, raising her eyes, and again letting them fall, “I + am of New Eng land birth, and was bred as what you call a heretic.” + </p> + <p> + “From New England!” exclaimed the priest. “It was my own birthplace, + likewise; nor have fifty years of absence made me cease to love it. But a + heretic! And are you reconciled to the Church?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, father,” said Hilda. + </p> + <p> + “And, that being the case,” demanded the old man, “on what ground, my + daughter, have you sought to avail yourself of these blessed privileges, + confined exclusively to members of the one true Church, of confession and + absolution?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolution, father?” exclaimed Hilda, shrinking back. “O no, no! I never + dreamed of that! Only our Heavenly Father can forgive my sins; and it is + only by sincere repentance of whatever wrong I may have done, and by my + own best efforts towards a higher life, that I can hope for his + forgiveness! God forbid that I should ask absolution from mortal man!” + </p> + <p> + “Then wherefore,” rejoined the priest, with somewhat less mildness in his + tone,—“wherefore, I ask again, have you taken possession, as I may + term it, of this holy ordinance; being a heretic, and neither seeking to + share, nor having faith in, the unspeakable advantages which the Church + offers to its penitents?” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” answered Hilda, trying to tell the old man the simple truth, “I + am a motherless girl, and a stranger here in Italy. I had only God to take + care of me, and be my closest friend; and the terrible, terrible crime, + which I have revealed to you, thrust itself between him and me; so that I + groped for him in the darkness, as it were, and found him not,—found + nothing but a dreadful solitude, and this crime in the midst of it! I + could not bear it. It seemed as if I made the awful guilt my own, by + keeping it hidden in my heart. I grew a fearful thing to myself. I was + going mad!” + </p> + <p> + “It was a grievous trial, my poor child!” observed the confessor. “Your + relief, I trust, will prove to be greater than you yet know!” + </p> + <p> + “I feel already how immense it is!” said Hilda, looking gratefully in his + face. “Surely, father, it was the hand of Providence that led me hither, + and made me feel that this vast temple of Christianity, this great home of + religion, must needs contain some cure, some ease, at least, for my + unutterable anguish. And it has proved so. I have told the hideous secret; + told it under the sacred seal of the confessional; and now it will burn my + poor heart no more!” + </p> + <p> + “But, daughter,” answered the venerable priest, not unmoved by what Hilda + said, “you forget! you mistake!—you claim a privilege to which you + have not entitled yourself! The seal of the confessional, do you say? God + forbid that it should ever be broken where it has been fairly impressed; + but it applies only to matters that have been confided to its keeping in a + certain prescribed method, and by persons, moreover, who have faith in the + sanctity of the ordinance. I hold myself, and any learned casuist of the + Church would hold me, as free to disclose all the particulars of what you + term your confession, as if they had come to my knowledge in a secular + way.” + </p> + <p> + “This is not right, father!” said Hilda, fixing her eyes on the old man’s. + </p> + <p> + “Do not you see, child,” he rejoined, with some little heat, “with all + your nicety of conscience, cannot you recognize it as my duty to make the + story known to the proper authorities; a great crime against public + justice being involved, and further evil consequences likely to ensue?” + </p> + <p> + “No, father, no!” answered Hilda, courageously, her cheeks flushing and + her eyes brightening as she spoke. “Trust a girl’s simple heart sooner + than any casuist of your Church, however learned he may be. Trust your own + heart, too! I came to your confessional, father, as I devoutly believe, by + the direct impulse of Heaven, which also brought you hither to-day, in its + mercy and love, to relieve me of a torture that I could no longer bear. I + trusted in the pledge which your Church has always held sacred between the + priest and the human soul, which, through his medium, is struggling + towards its Father above. What I have confided to you lies sacredly + between God and yourself. Let it rest there, father; for this is right, + and if you do otherwise, you will perpetrate a great wrong, both as a + priest and a man! And believe me, no question, no torture, shall ever + force my lips to utter what would be necessary, in order to make my + confession available towards the punishment of the guilty ones. Leave + Providence to deal with them!” + </p> + <p> + “My quiet little countrywoman,” said the priest, with half a smile on his + kindly old face, “you can pluck up a spirit, I perceive, when you fancy an + occasion for one.” + </p> + <p> + “I have spirit only to do what I think right,” replied Hilda simply. “In + other respects I am timorous.” + </p> + <p> + “But you confuse yourself between right feelings and very foolish + inferences,” continued the priest, “as is the wont of women,—so much + I have learnt by long experience in the confessional,—be they young + or old. However, to set your heart at rest, there is no probable need for + me to reveal the matter. What you have told, if I mistake not, and perhaps + more, is already known in the quarter which it most concerns.” + </p> + <p> + “Known!” exclaimed Hilda. “Known to the authorities of Rome! And what will + be the consequence?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” answered the confessor, laying his finger on his lips. “I tell you + my supposition—mind, it is no assertion of the fact—in order + that you may go the more cheerfully on your way, not deeming yourself + burdened with any responsibility as concerns this dark deed. And now, + daughter, what have you to give in return for an old man’s kindness and + sympathy?” + </p> + <p> + “My grateful remembrance,” said Hilda, fervently, “as long as I live!” + </p> + <p> + “And nothing more?” the priest inquired, with a persuasive smile. “Will + you not reward him with a great joy; one of the last joys that he may know + on earth, and a fit one to take with him into the better world? In a word, + will you not allow me to bring you as a stray lamb into the true fold? You + have experienced some little taste of the relief and comfort which the + Church keeps abundantly in store for all its faithful children. Come home, + dear child,—poor wanderer, who hast caught a glimpse of the heavenly + light,—come home, and be at rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Hilda, much moved by his kindly earnestness, in which, + however, genuine as it was, there might still be a leaven of professional + craft, “I dare not come a step farther than Providence shall guide me. Do + not let it grieve you, therefore, if I never return to the confessional; + never dip my fingers in holy water; never sign my bosom with the cross. I + am a daughter of the Puritans. But, in spite of my heresy,” she added with + a sweet, tearful smile, “you may one day see the poor girl, to whom you + have done this great Christian kindness, coming to remind you of it, and + thank you for it, in the Better Land.” + </p> + <p> + The old priest shook his head. But, as he stretched out his hands at the + same moment, in the act of benediction, Hilda knelt down and received the + blessing with as devout a simplicity as any Catholic of them all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL + </h2> + <h3> + HILDA AND A FRIEND + </h3> + <p> + When Hilda knelt to receive the priest’s benediction, the act was + witnessed by a person who stood leaning against the marble balustrade that + surrounds the hundred golden lights, before the high altar. He had stood + there, indeed, from the moment of the girl’s entrance into the + confessional. His start of surprise, at first beholding her, and the + anxious gloom that afterwards settled on his face, sufficiently betokened + that he felt a deep and sad interest in what was going forward. + </p> + <p> + After Hilda had bidden the priest farewell, she came slowly towards the + high altar. The individual to whom we have alluded seemed irresolute + whether to advance or retire. His hesitation lasted so long that the + maiden, straying through a happy reverie, had crossed the wide extent of + the pavement between the confessional and the altar, before he had decided + whether to meet her. At last, when within a pace or two, she raised her + eyes and recognized Kenyon. + </p> + <p> + “It is you!” she exclaimed, with joyful surprise. “I am so happy.” + </p> + <p> + In truth, the sculptor had never before seen, nor hardly imagined, such a + figure of peaceful beatitude as Hilda now presented. While coming towards + him in the solemn radiance which, at that period of the day, is diffused + through the transept, and showered down beneath the dome, she seemed of + the same substance as the atmosphere that enveloped her. He could scarcely + tell whether she was imbued with sunshine, or whether it was a glow of + happiness that shone out of her. + </p> + <p> + At all events, it was a marvellous change from the sad girl, who had + entered the confessional bewildered with anguish, to this bright, yet + softened image of religious consolation that emerged from it. It was as if + one of the throng of angelic people, who might be hovering in the sunny + depths of the dome, had alighted on the pavement. Indeed, this capability + of transfiguration, which we often see wrought by inward delight on + persons far less capable of it than Hilda, suggests how angels come by + their beauty, it grows out of their happiness, and lasts forever only + because that is immortal. + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand, and Kenyon was glad to take it in his own, if only + to assure himself that she was made of earthly material. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Hilda, I see that you are very happy,” he replied gloomily, and + withdrawing his hand after a single pressure. “For me, I never was less so + than at this moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Has any misfortune befallen you?” asked Hilda with earnestness. “Pray + tell me, and you shall have my sympathy, though I must still be very + happy. Now I know how it is that the saints above are touched by the + sorrows of distressed people on earth, and yet are never made wretched by + them. Not that I profess to be a saint, you know,” she added, smiling + radiantly. “But the heart grows so large, and so rich, and so variously + endowed, when it has a great sense of bliss, that it can give smiles to + some, and tears to others, with equal sincerity, and enjoy its own peace + throughout all.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not say you are no saint!” answered Kenyon with a smile, though he + felt that the tears stood in his eves. “You will still be Saint Hilda, + whatever church may canonize you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you would not have said so, had you seen me but an hour ago!” + murmured she. “I was so wretched, that there seemed a grievous sin in it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what has made you so suddenly happy?” inquired the sculptor. “But + first, Hilda, will you not tell me why you were so wretched?” + </p> + <p> + “Had I met you yesterday, I might have told you that,” she replied. + “To-day, there is no need.” + </p> + <p> + “Your happiness, then?” said the sculptor, as sadly as before. “Whence + comes it?” + </p> + <p> + “A great burden has been lifted from my heart—from my conscience, I + had almost said,”—answered Hilda, without shunning the glance that + he fixed upon her. “I am a new creature, since this morning, Heaven be + praised for it! It was a blessed hour—a blessed impulse—that + brought me to this beautiful and glorious cathedral. I shall hold it in + loving remembrance while I live, as the spot where I found infinite peace + after infinite trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Her heart seemed so full, that it spilt its new gush of happiness, as it + were, like rich and sunny wine out of an over-brimming goblet. Kenyon saw + that she was in one of those moods of elevated feeling, when the soul is + upheld by a strange tranquility, which is really more passionate and less + controllable than emotions far exceeding it in violence. He felt that + there would be indelicacy, if he ought not rather to call it impiety, in + his stealing upon Hilda, while she was thus beyond her own guardianship, + and surprising her out of secrets which she might afterwards bitterly + regret betraying to him. Therefore, though yearning to know what had + happened, he resolved to forbear further question. + </p> + <p> + Simple and earnest people, however, being accustomed to speak from their + genuine impulses, cannot easily, as craftier men do, avoid the subject + which they have at heart. As often as the sculptor unclosed his lips, such + words as these were ready to burst out:—“Hilda, have you flung your + angelic purity into that mass of unspeakable corruption, the Roman + Church?” + </p> + <p> + “What were you saying?” she asked, as Kenyon forced back an almost uttered + exclamation of this kind. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of what you have just remarked about the cathedral,” said + he, looking up into the mighty hollow of the dome. “It is indeed a + magnificent structure, and an adequate expression of the Faith which built + it. When I behold it in a proper mood,—that is to say, when I bring + my mind into a fair relation with the minds and purposes of its spiritual + and material architects,—I see but one or two criticisms to make. + One is, that it needs painted windows.” + </p> + <p> + “O, no!” said Hilda. “They would be quite inconsistent with so much + richness of color in the interior of the church. Besides, it is a Gothic + ornament, and only suited to that style of architecture, which requires a + gorgeous dimness.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” continued the sculptor, “yonder square apertures, filled + with ordinary panes of glass, are quite out of keeping with the + superabundant splendor of everything about them. They remind me of that + portion of Aladdin’s palace which he left unfinished, in order that his + royal father-in-law might put the finishing touch. Daylight, in its + natural state, ought not to be admitted here. It should stream through a + brilliant illusion of saints and hierarchies, and old scriptural images, + and symbolized dogmas, purple, blue, golden, and a broad flame of scarlet. + Then, it would be just such an illumination as the Catholic faith allows + to its believers. But, give me—to live and die in—the pure, + white light of heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you look so sorrowfully at me?” asked Hilda, quietly meeting his + disturbed gaze. “What would you say to me? I love the white light too!” + </p> + <p> + “I fancied so,” answered Kenyon. “Forgive me, Hilda; but I must needs + speak. You seemed to me a rare mixture of impressibility, sympathy, + sensitiveness to many influences, with a certain quality of common sense;—no, + not that, but a higher and finer attribute, for which I find no better + word. However tremulously you might vibrate, this quality, I supposed, + would always bring you back to the equipoise. You were a creature of + imagination, and yet as truly a New England girl as any with whom you grew + up in your native village. If there were one person in the world whose + native rectitude of thought, and something deeper, more reliable, than + thought, I would have trusted against all the arts of a priesthood,—whose + taste alone, so exquisite and sincere that it rose to be a moral virtue, I + would have rested upon as a sufficient safeguard,—it was yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “I am conscious of no such high and delicate qualities as you allow me,” + answered Hilda. “But what have I done that a girl of New England birth and + culture, with the right sense that her mother taught her, and the + conscience that she developed in her, should not do?” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda, I saw you at the confessional!” said Kenyon. + </p> + <p> + “Ah well, my dear friend,” replied Hilda, casting down her eyes, and + looking somewhat confused, yet not ashamed, “you must try to forgive me + for that,—if you deem it wrong, because it has saved my reason, and + made me very happy. Had you been here yesterday, I would have confessed to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Would to Heaven I had!” ejaculated Kenyon. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” Hilda resumed, “I shall never go to the confessional again; for + there can scarcely come such a sore trial twice in my life. If I had been + a wiser girl, a stronger, and a more sensible, very likely I might not + have gone to the confessional at all. It was the sin of others that drove + me thither; not my own, though it almost seemed so. Being what I am, I + must either have done what you saw me doing, or have gone mad. Would that + have been better?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not a Catholic?” asked the sculptor earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Really, I do not quite know what I am,” replied Hilda, encountering his + eyes with a frank and simple gaze. “I have a great deal of faith, and + Catholicism seems to have a great deal of good. Why should not I be a + Catholic, if I find there what I need, and what I cannot find elsewhere? + The more I see of this worship, the more I wonder at the exuberance with + which it adapts itself to all the demands of human infirmity. If its + ministers were but a little more than human, above all error, pure from + all iniquity, what a religion would it be!” + </p> + <p> + “I need not fear your conversion to the Catholic faith,” remarked Kenyon, + “if you are at all aware of the bitter sarcasm implied in your last + observation. It is very just. Only the exceeding ingenuity of the system + stamps it as the contrivance of man, or some worse author; not an + emanation of the broad and simple wisdom from on high.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be so,” said Hilda; “but I meant no sarcasm.” + </p> + <p> + Thus conversing, the two friends went together down the grand extent of + the nave. Before leaving the church, they turned to admire again its + mighty breadth, the remoteness of the glory behind the altar, and the + effect of visionary splendor and magnificence imparted by the long bars of + smoky sunshine, which travelled so far before arriving at a place of rest. + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven for having brought me hither!” said Hilda fervently. + </p> + <p> + Kenyon’s mind was deeply disturbed by his idea of her Catholic + propensities; and now what he deemed her disproportionate and misapplied + veneration for the sublime edifice stung him into irreverence. + </p> + <p> + “The best thing I know of St. Peter’s,” observed he, “is its equable + temperature. We are now enjoying the coolness of last winter, which, a few + months hence, will be the warmth of the present summer. It has no cure, I + suspect, in all its length and breadth, for a sick soul, but it would make + an admirable atmospheric hospital for sick bodies. What a delightful + shelter would it be for the invalids who throng to Rome, where the sirocco + steals away their strength, and the tramontana stabs them through and + through, like cold steel with a poisoned point! But within these walls, + the thermometer never varies. Winter and summer are married at the high + altar, and dwell together in perfect harmony.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Hilda; “and I have always felt this soft, unchanging climate + of St. Peter’s to be another manifestation of its sanctity.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not precisely my idea,” replied Kenyon. “But what a delicious + life it would be, if a colony of people with delicate lungs or merely with + delicate fancies—could take up their abode in this ever-mild and + tranquil air. These architectural tombs of the popes might serve for + dwellings, and each brazen sepulchral doorway would become a domestic + threshold. Then the lover, if he dared, might say to his mistress, ‘Will + you share my tomb with me?’ and, winning her soft consent, he would lead + her to the altar, and thence to yonder sepulchre of Pope Gregory, which + should be their nuptial home. What a life would be theirs, Hilda, in their + marble Eden!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not kind, nor like yourself,” said Hilda gently, “to throw ridicule + on emotions which are genuine. I revere this glorious church for itself + and its purposes; and love it, moreover, because here I have found sweet + peace, after’ a great anguish.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” answered the sculptor, “and I will do so no more. My heart + is not so irreverent as my words.” + </p> + <p> + They went through the piazza of St. Peter’s and the adjacent streets, + silently at first; but, before reaching the bridge of St. Angelo, Hilda’s + flow of spirits began to bubble forth, like the gush of a streamlet that + has been shut up by frost, or by a heavy stone over its source. Kenyon had + never found her so delightful as now; so softened out of the chillness of + her virgin pride; so full of fresh thoughts, at which he was often moved + to smile, although, on turning them over a little more, he sometimes + discovered that they looked fanciful only because so absolutely true. + </p> + <p> + But, indeed, she was not quite in a normal state. Emerging from gloom into + sudden cheerfulness, the effect upon Hilda was as if she were just now + created. After long torpor, receiving back her intellectual activity, she + derived an exquisite pleasure from the use of her faculties, which were + set in motion by causes that seemed inadequate. She continually brought to + Kenyon’s mind the image of a child, making its plaything of every object, + but sporting in good faith, and with a kind of seriousness. Looking up, + for example, at the statue of St. Michael, on the top of Hadrian’s + castellated tomb, Hilda fancied an interview between the Archangel and the + old emperor’s ghost, who was naturally displeased at finding his + mausoleum, which he had ordained for the stately and solemn repose of his + ashes, converted to its present purposes. + </p> + <p> + “But St. Michael, no doubt,” she thoughtfully remarked, “would finally + convince the Emperor Hadrian that where a warlike despot is sown as the + seed, a fortress and a prison are the only possible crop.” + </p> + <p> + They stopped on the bridge to look into the swift eddying flow of the + yellow Tiber, a mud puddle in strenuous motion; and Hilda wondered whether + the seven-branched golden candlestick,—the holy candlestick of the + Jews, which was lost at the Ponte Molle, in Constantine’s time, had yet + been swept as far down the river as this. + </p> + <p> + “It probably stuck where it fell,” said the sculptor; “and, by this time, + is imbedded thirty feet deep in the mud of the Tiber. Nothing will ever + bring it to light again.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy you are mistaken,” replied Hilda, smiling. “There was a meaning + and purpose in each of its seven branches, and such a candlestick cannot + be lost forever. When it is found again, and seven lights are kindled and + burning in it, the whole world will gain the illumination which it needs. + Would not this be an admirable idea for a mystic story or parable, or + seven-branched allegory, full of poetry, art, philosophy, and religion? It + shall be called ‘The Recovery of the Sacred Candlestick.’ As each branch + is lighted, it shall have a differently colored lustre from the other six; + and when all the seven are kindled, their radiance shall combine into the + intense white light of truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Positively, Hilda, this is a magnificent conception,” cried Kenyon. “The + more I look at it, the brighter it burns.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so too,” said Hilda, enjoying a childlike pleasure in her own + idea. “The theme is better suited for verse than prose; and when I go home + to America, I will suggest it to one of our poets. Or seven poets might + write the poem together, each lighting a separate branch of the Sacred + Candlestick.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think of going home?” Kenyon asked. + </p> + <p> + “Only yesterday,” she replied, “I longed to flee away. Now, all is + changed, and, being happy again, I should feel deep regret at leaving the + Pictorial Land. But I cannot tell. In Rome, there is something dreary and + awful, which we can never quite escape. At least, I thought so yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the Via Portoghese, and approached Hilda’s tower, the + doves, who were waiting aloft, flung themselves upon the air, and came + floating down about her head. The girl caressed them, and responded to + their cooings with similar sounds from her own lips, and with words of + endearment; and their joyful flutterings and airy little flights, + evidently impelled by pure exuberance of spirits, seemed to show that the + doves had a real sympathy with their mistress’s state of mind. For peace + had descended upon her like a dove. + </p> + <p> + Bidding the sculptor farewell, Hilda climbed her tower, and came forth + upon its summit to trim the Virgin’s lamp. The doves, well knowing her + custom, had flown up thither to meet her, and again hovered about her + head; and very lovely was her aspect, in the evening Sunlight, which had + little further to do with the world just then, save to fling a golden + glory on Hilda’s hair, and vanish. + </p> + <p> + Turning her eyes down into the dusky street which she had just quitted, + Hilda saw the sculptor still there, and waved her hand to him. + </p> + <p> + “How sad and dim he looks, down there in that dreary street!” she said to + herself. “Something weighs upon his spirits. Would I could comfort him!” + </p> + <p> + “How like a spirit she looks, aloft there, with the evening glory round + her head, and those winged creatures claiming her as akin to them!” + thought Kenyon, on his part. “How far above me! how unattainable! Ah, if I + could lift myself to her region! Or—if it be not a sin to wish it—would + that I might draw her down to an earthly fireside!” + </p> + <p> + What a sweet reverence is that, when a young man deems his mistress a + little more than mortal, and almost chides himself for longing to bring + her close to his heart! A trifling circumstance, but such as lovers make + much of, gave him hope. One of the doves, which had been resting on + Hilda’s shoulder, suddenly flew downward, as if recognizing him as its + mistress’s dear friend; and, perhaps commissioned with an errand of + regard, brushed his upturned face with its wings, and again soared aloft. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor watched the bird’s return, and saw Hilda greet it with a + smile. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI + </h2> + <h3> + SNOWDROPS AND MAIDENLY DELIGHTS + </h3> + <p> + It being still considerably earlier than the period at which artists and + tourists are accustomed to assemble in Rome, the sculptor and Hilda found + themselves comparatively alone there. The dense mass of native Roman life, + in the midst of which they were, served to press them near one another. It + was as if they had been thrown together on a desert island. Or they seemed + to have wandered, by some strange chance, out of the common world, and + encountered each other in a depopulated city, where there were streets of + lonely palaces, and unreckonable treasures of beautiful and admirable + things, of which they two became the sole inheritors. + </p> + <p> + In such circumstances, Hilda’s gentle reserve must have been stronger than + her kindly disposition permitted, if the friendship between Kenyon and + herself had not grown as warm as a maiden’s friendship can ever be, + without absolutely and avowedly blooming into love. On the sculptor’s + side, the amaranthine flower was already in full blow. But it is very + beautiful, though the lover’s heart may grow chill at the perception, to + see how the snow will sometimes linger in a virgin’s breast, even after + the spring is well advanced. In such alpine soils, the summer will not be + anticipated; we seek vainly for passionate flowers, and blossoms of fervid + hue and spicy fragrance, finding only snowdrops and sunless violets, when + it is almost the full season for the crimson rose. + </p> + <p> + With so much tenderness as Hilda had in her nature, it was strange that + she so reluctantly admitted the idea of love; especially as, in the + sculptor, she found both congeniality and variety of taste, and likenesses + and differences of character; these being as essential as those to any + poignancy of mutual emotion. + </p> + <p> + So Hilda, as far as Kenyon could discern, still did not love him, though + she admitted him within the quiet circle of her affections as a dear + friend and trusty counsellor. If we knew what is best for us, or could be + content with what is reasonably good, the sculptor might well have been + satisfied, for a season, with this calm intimacy, which so sweetly kept + him a stranger in her heart, and a ceremonious guest; and yet allowed him + the free enjoyment of all but its deeper recesses. The flowers that grow + outside of those minor sanctities have a wild, hasty charm, which it is + well to prove; there may be sweeter ones within the sacred precinct, but + none that will die while you are handling them, and bequeath you a + delicious legacy, as these do, in the perception of their evanescence and + unreality. + </p> + <p> + And this may be the reason, after all, why Hilda, like so many other + maidens, lingered on the hither side of passion; her finer instinct and + keener sensibility made her enjoy those pale delights in a degree of which + men are incapable. She hesitated to grasp a richer happiness, as + possessing already such measure of it as her heart could hold, and of a + quality most agreeable to her virgin tastes. + </p> + <p> + Certainly, they both were very happy. Kenyon’s genius, unconsciously + wrought upon by Hilda’s influence, took a more delicate character than + heretofore. He modelled, among other things, a beautiful little statue of + maidenhood gathering a snowdrop. It was never put into marble, however, + because the sculptor soon recognized it as one of those fragile creations + which are true only to the moment that produces them, and are wronged if + we try to imprison their airy excellence in a permanent material. + </p> + <p> + On her part, Hilda returned to her customary Occupations with a fresh love + for them, and yet with a deeper look into the heart of things; such as + those necessarily acquire who have passed from picture galleries into + dungeon gloom, and thence come back to the picture gallery again. It is + questionable whether she was ever so perfect a copyist thenceforth. She + could not yield herself up to the painter so unreservedly as in times + past; her character had developed a sturdier quality, which made her less + pliable to the influence of other minds. She saw into the picture as + profoundly as ever, and perhaps more so, but not with the devout sympathy + that had formerly given her entire possession of the old master’s idea. + She had known such a reality, that it taught her to distinguish inevitably + the large portion that is unreal, in every work of art. Instructed by + sorrow, she felt that there is something beyond almost all which pictorial + genius has produced; and she never forgot those sad wanderings from + gallery to gallery, and from church to church, where she had vainly sought + a type of the Virgin Mother, or the Saviour, or saint, or martyr, which a + soul in extreme need might recognize as the adequate one. + </p> + <p> + How, indeed, should she have found such? How could holiness be revealed to + the artist of an age when the greatest of them put genius and imagination + in the place of spiritual insight, and when, from the pope downward, all + Christendom was corrupt? + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, months wore away, and Rome received back that large portion of + its life-blood which runs in the veins of its foreign and temporary + population. English visitors established themselves in the hotels, and in + all the sunny suites of apartments, in the streets convenient to the + Piazza di Spagna; the English tongue was heard familiarly along the Corso, + and English children sported in the Pincian Gardens. + </p> + <p> + The native Romans, on the other hand, like the butterflies and + grasshoppers, resigned themselves to the short, sharp misery which winter + brings to a people whose arrangements are made almost exclusively with a + view to summer. Keeping no fire within-doors, except possibly a spark or + two in the kitchen, they crept out of their cheerless houses into the + narrow, sunless, sepulchral streets, bringing their firesides along with + them, in the shape of little earthen pots, vases, or pipkins, full of + lighted charcoal and warm ashes, over which they held their tingling + finger-ends. Even in this half-torpid wretchedness, they still seemed to + dread a pestilence in the sunshine, and kept on the shady side of the + piazzas, as scrupulously as in summer. Through the open doorways w no need + to shut them when the weather within was bleaker than without—a + glimpse into the interior of their dwellings showed the uncarpeted brick + floors, as dismal as the pavement of a tomb. + </p> + <p> + They drew their old cloaks about them, nevertheless, and threw the corners + over their shoulders, with the dignity of attitude and action that have + come down to these modern citizens, as their sole inheritance from the + togated nation. Somehow or other, they managed to keep up their poor, + frost-bitten hearts against the pitiless atmosphere with a quiet and + uncomplaining endurance that really seems the most respectable point in + the present Roman character. For in New England, or in Russia, or scarcely + in a hut of the Esquimaux, there is no such discomfort to be borne as by + Romans in wintry weather, when the orange-trees bear icy fruit in the + gardens; and when the rims of all the fountains are shaggy with icicles, + and the Fountain of Trevi skimmed almost across with a glassy surface; and + when there is a slide in the piazza of St. Peter’s, and a fringe of brown, + frozen foam along the eastern shore of the Tiber, and sometimes a fall of + great snowflakes into the dreary lanes and alleys of the miserable city. + Cold blasts, that bring death with them, now blow upon the shivering + invalids, who came hither in the hope of breathing balmy airs. + </p> + <p> + Wherever we pass our summers, may all our inclement months, from November + to April, henceforth be spent in some country that recognizes winter as an + integral portion of its year! + </p> + <p> + Now, too, there was especial discomfort in the stately picture galleries, + where nobody, indeed,—not the princely or priestly founders, nor any + who have inherited their cheerless magnificence,—ever dreamed of + such an impossibility as fireside warmth, since those great palaces were + built. Hilda, therefore, finding her fingers so much benumbed that the + spiritual influence could not be transmitted to them, was persuaded to + leave her easel before a picture, on one of these wintry days, and pay a + visit to Kenyon’s studio. But neither was the studio anything better than + a dismal den, with its marble shapes shivering around the walls, cold as + the snow images which the sculptor used to model in his boyhood, and sadly + behold them weep themselves away at the first thaw. + </p> + <p> + Kenyon’s Roman artisans, all this while, had been at work on the + Cleopatra. The fierce Egyptian queen had now struggled almost out of the + imprisoning stone; or, rather, the workmen had found her within the mass + of marble, imprisoned there by magic, but still fervid to the touch with + fiery life, the fossil woman of an age that produced statelier, stronger, + and more passionate creatures than our own. You already felt her + compressed heat, and were aware of a tiger-like character even in her + repose. If Octavius should make his appearance, though the marble still + held her within its embrace, it was evident that she would tear herself + forth in a twinkling, either to spring enraged at his throat, or, sinking + into his arms, to make one more proof of her rich blandishments, or, + falling lowly at his feet, to try the efficacy of a woman’s tears. + </p> + <p> + “I am ashamed to tell you how much I admire this statue,” said Hilda. “No + other sculptor could have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very sweet for me to hear,” replied Kenyon; “and since your + reserve keeps you from saying more, I shall imagine you expressing + everything that an artist would wish to hear said about his work.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not easily go beyond my genuine opinion,” answered Hilda, with a + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, your kind word makes me very happy,” said the sculptor, “and I need + it, just now, on behalf of my Cleopatra. That inevitable period has come,—for + I have found it inevitable, in regard to all my works,—when I look + at what I fancied to be a statue, lacking only breath to make it live, and + find it a mere lump of senseless stone, into which I have not really + succeeded in moulding the spiritual part of my idea. I should like, now,—only + it would be such shameful treatment for a discrowned queen, and my own + offspring too,—I should like to hit poor Cleopatra a bitter blow on + her Egyptian nose with this mallet.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a blow which all statues seem doomed to receive, sooner or later, + though seldom from the hand that sculptured them,” said Hilda, laughing. + “But you must not let yourself be too much disheartened by the decay of + your faith in what you produce. I have heard a poet express similar + distaste for his own most exquisite poem, and I am afraid that this final + despair, and sense of short-coming, must always be the reward and + punishment of those who try to grapple with a great or beautiful idea. It + only proves that you have been able to imagine things too high for mortal + faculties to execute. The idea leaves you an imperfect image of itself, + which you at first mistake for the ethereal reality, but soon find that + the latter has escaped out of your closest embrace.” + </p> + <p> + “And the only consolation is,” remarked Kenyon, “that the blurred and + imperfect image may still make a very respectable appearance in the eyes + of those who have not seen the original.” + </p> + <p> + “More than that,” rejoined Hilda; “for there is a class of spectators + whose sympathy will help them to see the perfect through a mist of + imperfection. Nobody, I think, ought to read poetry, or look at pictures + or statues, who cannot find a great deal more in them than the poet or + artist has actually expressed. Their highest merit is suggestiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “You, Hilda, are yourself the only critic in whom I have much faith,” said + Kenyon. “Had you condemned Cleopatra, nothing should have saved her.” + </p> + <p> + “You invest me with such an awful responsibility,” she replied, “that I + shall not dare to say a single word about your other works.” + </p> + <p> + “At least,” said the sculptor, “tell me whether you recognize this bust?” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to a bust of Donatello. It was not the one which Kenyon had + begun to model at Monte Beni, but a reminiscence of the Count’s face, + wrought under the influence of all the sculptor’s knowledge of his + history, and of his personal and hereditary character. It stood on a + wooden pedestal, not nearly finished, but with fine white dust and small + chips of marble scattered about it, and itself incrusted all round with + the white, shapeless substance of the block. In the midst appeared the + features, lacking sharpness, and very much resembling a fossil + countenance,—but we have already used this simile, in reference to + Cleopatra, with the accumulations of long-past ages clinging to it. + </p> + <p> + And yet, strange to say, the face had an expression, and a more + recognizable one than Kenyon had succeeded in putting into the clay model + at Monte Beni. The reader is probably acquainted with Thorwaldsen’s + three-fold analogy,—the clay model, the Life; the plaster cast, the + Death; and the sculptured marble, the Resurrection,—and it seemed to + be made good by the spirit that was kindling up these imperfect features, + like a lambent flame. + </p> + <p> + “I was not quite sure, at first glance, that I knew the face,” observed + Hilda; “the likeness surely is not a striking one. There is a good deal of + external resemblance, still, to the features of the Faun of Praxiteles, + between whom and Donatello, you know, we once insisted that there was a + perfect twin-brotherhood. But the expression is now so very different!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you take it to be?” asked the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know how to define it,” she answered. “But it has an effect as + if I could see this countenance gradually brightening while I look at it. + It gives the impression of a growing intellectual power and moral sense. + Donatello’s face used to evince little more than a genial, pleasurable + sort of vivacity, and capability of enjoyment. But here, a soul is being + breathed into him; it is the Faun, but advancing towards a state of higher + development.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda, do you see all this?” exclaimed Kenyon, in considerable surprise. + “I may have had such an idea in my mind, but was quite unaware that I had + succeeded in conveying it into the marble.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” said Hilda, “but I question whether this striking effect has + been brought about by any skill or purpose on the sculptor’s part. Is it + not, perhaps, the chance result of the bust being just so far shaped out, + in the marble, as the process of moral growth had advanced in the + original? A few more strokes of the chisel might change the whole + expression, and so spoil it for what it is now worth.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are right,” answered Kenyon, thoughtfully examining his + work; “and, strangely enough, it was the very expression that I tried + unsuccessfully to produce in the clay model. Well; not another chip shall + be struck from the marble.” + </p> + <p> + And, accordingly, Donatello’s bust (like that rude, rough mass of the head + of Brutus, by Michael Angelo, at Florence) has ever since remained in an + unfinished state. Most spectators mistake it for an unsuccessful attempt + towards copying the features of the Faun of Praxiteles. One observer in a + thousand is conscious of something more, and lingers long over this + mysterious face, departing from it reluctantly, and with many a glance + thrown backward. What perplexes him is the riddle that he sees propounded + there; the riddle of the soul’s growth, taking its first impulse amid + remorse and pain, and struggling through the incrustations of the senses. + It was the contemplation of this imperfect portrait of Donatello that + originally interested us in his history, and impelled us to elicit from + Kenyon what he knew of his friend’s adventures. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII + </h2> + <h3> + REMINISCENCES OF MIRIAM + </h3> + <p> + When Hilda and himself turned away from the unfinished bust, the + sculptor’s mind still dwelt upon the reminiscences which it suggested. + “You have not seen Donatello recently,” he remarked, “and therefore cannot + be aware how sadly he is changed.” + </p> + <p> + “No wonder!” exclaimed Hilda, growing pale. + </p> + <p> + The terrible scene which she had witnessed, when Donatello’s face gleamed + out in so fierce a light, came back upon her memory, almost for the first + time since she knelt at the confessional. Hilda, as is sometimes the case + with persons whose delicate organization requires a peculiar safeguard, + had an elastic faculty of throwing off such recollections as would be too + painful for endurance. The first shock of Donatello’s and Miriam’s crime + had, indeed, broken through the frail defence of this voluntary + forgetfulness; but, once enabled to relieve herself of the ponderous + anguish over which she had so long brooded, she had practised a subtile + watchfulness in preventing its return. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder, do you say?” repeated the sculptor, looking at her with + interest, but not exactly with surprise; for he had long suspected that + Hilda had a painful knowledge of events which he himself little more than + surmised. “Then you know!—you have heard! But what can you possibly + have heard, and through what channel?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” replied Hilda faintly. “Not one word has reached my ears from + the lips of any human being. Let us never speak of it again! No, no! never + again!” + </p> + <p> + “And Miriam!” said Kenyon, with irrepressible interest. “Is it also + forbidden to speak of her?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! do not even utter her name! Try not to think of it!” Hilda + whispered. “It may bring terrible consequences!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Hilda!” exclaimed Kenyon, regarding her with wonder and deep + sympathy. “My sweet friend, have you had this secret hidden in your + delicate, maidenly heart, through all these many months! No wonder that + your life was withering out of you.” + </p> + <p> + “It was so, indeed!” said Hilda, shuddering. “Even now, I sicken at the + recollection.” + </p> + <p> + “And how could it have come to your knowledge?” continued the sculptor. + “But no matter! Do not torture yourself with referring to the subject. + Only, if at any time it should be a relief to you, remember that we can + speak freely together, for Miriam has herself suggested a confidence + between us.” + </p> + <p> + “Miriam has suggested this!” exclaimed Hilda. “Yes, I remember, now, her + advising that the secret should be shared with you. But I have survived + the death struggle that it cost me, and need make no further revelations. + And Miriam has spoken to you! What manner of woman can she be, who, after + sharing in such a deed, can make it a topic of conversation with her + friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Hilda,” replied Kenyon, “you do not know, for you could never learn + it from your own heart, which is all purity and rectitude, what a mixture + of good there may be in things evil; and how the greatest criminal, if you + look at his conduct from his own point of view, or from any side point, + may seem not so unquestionably guilty, after all. So with Miriam; so with + Donatello. They are, perhaps, partners in what we must call awful guilt; + and yet, I will own to you,—when I think of the original cause, the + motives, the feelings, the sudden concurrence of circumstances thrusting + them onward, the urgency of the moment, and the sublime unselfishness on + either part,—I know not well how to distinguish it from much that + the world calls heroism. Might we not render some such verdict as this?—‘Worthy + of Death, but not unworthy of Love! ‘” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” answered Hilda, looking at the matter through the clear crystal + medium of her own integrity. “This thing, as regards its causes, is all a + mystery to me, and must remain so. But there is, I believe, only one right + and one wrong; and I do not understand, and may God keep me from ever + understanding, how two things so totally unlike can be mistaken for one + another; nor how two mortal foes, as Right and Wrong surely are, can work + together in the same deed. This is my faith; and I should be led astray, + if you could persuade me to give it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas for poor human nature, then!” said Kenyon sadly, and yet half + smiling at Hilda’s unworldly and impracticable theory. “I always felt you, + my dear friend, a terribly severe judge, and have been perplexed to + conceive how such tender sympathy could coexist with the remorselessness + of a steel blade. You need no mercy, and therefore know not how to show + any.” + </p> + <p> + “That sounds like a bitter gibe,” said Hilda, with the tears springing + into her eyes. “But I cannot help it. It does not alter my perception of + the truth. If there be any such dreadful mixture of good and evil as you + affirm,—and which appears to me almost more shocking than pure evil,—then + the good is turned to poison, not the evil to wholesomeness.” + </p> + <p> + The sculptor seemed disposed to say something more, but yielded to the + gentle steadfastness with which Hilda declined to listen. She grew very + sad; for a reference to this one dismal topic had set, as it were, a + prison door ajar, and allowed a throng of torturing recollections to + escape from their dungeons into the pure air and white radiance of her + soul. She bade Kenyon a briefer farewell than ordinary, and went homeward + to her tower. + </p> + <p> + In spite of her efforts to withdraw them to other subjects, her thoughts + dwelt upon Miriam; and, as had not heretofore happened, they brought with + them a painful doubt whether a wrong had not been committed on Hilda’s + part, towards the friend once so beloved. Something that Miriam had said, + in their final conversation, recurred to her memory, and seemed now to + deserve more weight than Hilda had assigned to it, in her horror at the + crime just perpetrated. It was not that the deed looked less wicked and + terrible in the retrospect; but she asked herself whether there were not + other questions to be considered, aside from that single one of Miriam’s + guilt or innocence; as, for example, whether a close bond of friendship, + in which we once voluntarily engage, ought to be severed on account of any + unworthiness, which we subsequently detect in our friend. For, in these + unions of hearts,—call them marriage, or whatever else,—we + take each other for better for worse. Availing ourselves of our friend’s + intimate affection, we pledge our own, as to be relied upon in every + emergency. And what sadder, more desperate emergency could there be, than + had befallen Miriam? Who more need the tender succor of the innocent, than + wretches stained with guilt! And must a selfish care for the spotlessness + of our own garments keep us from pressing the guilty ones close to our + hearts, wherein, for the very reason that we are innocent, lies their + securest refuge from further ill? + </p> + <p> + It was a sad thing for Hilda to find this moral enigma propounded to her + conscience; and to feel that, whichever way she might settle it, there + would be a cry of wrong on the other side. Still, the idea stubbornly came + back, that the tie between Miriam and herself had been real, the affection + true, and that therefore the implied compact was not to be shaken off. + </p> + <p> + “Miriam loved me well,” thought Hilda remorsefully, “and I failed her at + her sorest need.” + </p> + <p> + Miriam loved her well; and not less ardent had been the affection which + Miriam’s warm, tender, and generous characteristics had excited in Hilda’s + more reserved and quiet nature. It had never been extinguished; for, in + part, the wretchedness which Hilda had since endured was but the struggle + and writhing of her sensibility, still yearning towards her friend. And + now, at the earliest encouragement, it awoke again, and cried out + piteously, complaining of the violence that had been done it. + </p> + <p> + Recurring to the delinquencies of which she fancied (we say “fancied,” + because we do not unhesitatingly adopt Hilda’s present view, but rather + suppose her misled by her feelings)—of which she fancied herself + guilty towards her friend, she suddenly remembered a sealed packet that + Miriam had confided to her. It had been put into her hands with earnest + injunctions of secrecy and care, and if unclaimed after a certain period, + was to be delivered according to its address. Hilda had forgotten it; or, + rather, she had kept the thought of this commission in the background of + her consciousness, with all other thoughts referring to Miriam. + </p> + <p> + But now the recollection of this packet, and the evident stress which + Miriam laid upon its delivery at the specified time, impelled Hilda to + hurry up the staircase of her tower, dreading lest the period should + already have elapsed. + </p> + <p> + No; the hour had not gone by, but was on the very point of passing. Hilda + read the brief note of instruction, on a corner of the envelope, and + discovered, that, in case of Miriam’s absence from Rome, the packet was to + be taken to its destination that very day. + </p> + <p> + “How nearly I had violated my promise!” said Hilda. “And, since we are + separated forever, it has the sacredness of an injunction from a dead + friend. There is no time to be lost.” + </p> + <p> + So Hilda set forth in the decline of the afternoon, and pursued her way + towards the quarter of the city in which stands the Palazzo Cenci. Her + habit of self-reliance was so simply strong, so natural, and now so well + established by long use, that the idea of peril seldom or never occurred + to Hilda, in her lonely life. + </p> + <p> + She differed, in this particular, from the generality of her sex, —although + the customs and character of her native land often produce women who meet + the world with gentle fearlessness, and discover that its terrors have + been absurdly exaggerated by the tradition of mankind. In ninety-nine + cases out of a hundred, the apprehensiveness of women is quite gratuitous. + Even as matters now stand, they are really safer in perilous situations + and emergencies than men; and might be still more so, if they trusted + themselves more confidingly to the chivalry of manhood. In all her + wanderings about Rome, Hilda had gone and returned as securely as she had + been accustomed to tread the familiar street of her New England village, + where every face wore a look of recognition. With respect to whatever was + evil, foul, and ugly, in this populous and corrupt city, she trod as if + invisible, and not only so, but blind. She was altogether unconscious of + anything wicked that went along the same pathway, but without jostling or + impeding her, any more than gross substance hinders the wanderings of a + spirit. Thus it is, that, bad as the world is said to have grown, + innocence continues to make a paradise around itself, and keep it still + unfallen. + </p> + <p> + Hilda’s present expedition led her into what was—physically, at + least—the foulest and ugliest part of Rome. In that vicinity lies + the Ghetto, where thousands of Jews are crowded within a narrow compass, + and lead a close, unclean, and multitudinous life, resembling that of + maggots when they over-populate a decaying cheese. + </p> + <p> + Hilda passed on the borders of this region, but had no occasion to step + within it. Its neighborhood, however, naturally partook of characteristics + ‘like its own. There was a confusion of black and hideous houses, piled + massively out of the ruins of former ages; rude and destitute of plan, as + a pauper would build his hovel, and yet displaying here and there an + arched gateway, a cornice, a pillar, or a broken arcade, that might have + adorned a palace. Many of the houses, indeed, as they stood, might once + have been palaces, and possessed still a squalid kind of grandeur. Dirt + was everywhere, strewing the narrow streets, and incrusting the tall + shabbiness of the edifices, from the foundations to the roofs; it lay upon + the thresholds, and looked out of the windows, and assumed the guise of + human life in the children that Seemed to be engendered out of it. Their + father was the sun, and their mother—a heap of Roman mud. + </p> + <p> + It is a question of speculative interest, whether the ancient Romans were + as unclean a people as we everywhere find those who have succeeded them. + There appears to be a kind of malignant spell in the spots that have been + inhabited by these masters of the world, or made famous in their history; + an inherited and inalienable curse, impelling their successors to fling + dirt and defilement upon whatever temple, column, mined palace, or + triumphal arch may be nearest at hand, and on every monument that the old + Romans built. It is most probably a classic trait, regularly transmitted + downward, and perhaps a little modified by the better civilization of + Christianity; so that Caesar may have trod narrower and filthier ways in + his path to the Capitol, than even those of modern Rome. + </p> + <p> + As the paternal abode of Beatrice, the gloomy old palace of the Cencis had + an interest for Hilda, although not sufficiently strong, hitherto, to + overcome the disheartening effect of the exterior, and draw her over its + threshold. The adjacent piazza, of poor aspect, contained only an old + woman selling roasted chestnuts and baked squash-seeds; she looked sharply + at Hilda, and inquired whether she had lost her way. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Hilda; “I seek the Palazzo Cenci.” + </p> + <p> + “Yonder it is, fair signorina,” replied the Roman matron. “If you wish + that packet delivered, which I see in your hand, my grandson Pietro shall + run with it for a baiocco. The Cenci palace is a spot of ill omen for + young maidens.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda thanked the old dame, but alleged the necessity of doing her errand + in person. She approached the front of the palace, which, with all its + immensity, had but a mean appearance, and seemed an abode which the lovely + shade of Beatrice would not be apt to haunt, unless her doom made it + inevitable. Some soldiers stood about the portal, and gazed at the + brown-haired, fair-cheeked Anglo-Saxon girl, with approving glances, but + not indecorously. Hilda began to ascend the staircase, three lofty flights + of which were to be surmounted, before reaching the door whither she was + bound. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE EXTINCTION OF A LAMP + </h3> + <p> + Between Hilda and the sculptor there had been a kind of half-expressed + understanding, that both were to visit the galleries of the Vatican the + day subsequent to their meeting at the studio. Kenyon, accordingly, failed + not to be there, and wandered through the vast ranges of apartments, but + saw nothing of his expected friend. The marble faces, which stand + innumerable along the walls, and have kept themselves so calm through the + vicissitudes of twenty centuries, had no sympathy for his disappointment; + and he, on the other hand, strode past these treasures and marvels of + antique art, with the indifference which any preoccupation of the feelings + is apt to produce, in reference to objects of sculpture. Being of so cold + and pure a substance, and mostly deriving their vitality more from thought + than passion, they require to be seen through a perfectly transparent + medium. + </p> + <p> + And, moreover, Kenyon had counted so much upon Hilda’s delicate + perceptions in enabling him to look at two or three of the statues, about + which they had talked together, that the entire purpose of his visit was + defeated by her absence. It is a delicious sort of mutual aid, when the + united power of two sympathetic, yet dissimilar, intelligences is brought + to bear upon a poem by reading it aloud, or upon a picture or statue by + viewing it in each other’s company. Even if not a word of criticism be + uttered, the insight of either party is wonderfully deepened, and the + comprehension broadened; so that the inner mystery of a work of genius, + hidden from one, will often reveal itself to two. Missing such help, + Kenyon saw nothing at the Vatican which he had not seen a thousand times + before, and more perfectly than now. + </p> + <p> + In the chili of his disappointment, he suspected that it was a very cold + art to which he had devoted himself. He questioned, at that moment, + whether sculpture really ever softens and warms the material which it + handles; whether carved marble is anything but limestone, after all; and + whether the Apollo Belvedere itself possesses any merit above its physical + beauty, or is beyond criticism even in that generally acknowledged + excellence. In flitting glances, heretofore, he had seemed to behold this + statue, as something ethereal and godlike, but not now. + </p> + <p> + Nothing pleased him, unless it were the group of the Laocoon, which, in + its immortal agony, impressed Kenyon as a type of the long, fierce + struggle of man, involved in the knotted entanglements of Error and Evil, + those two snakes, which, if no divine help intervene, will be sure to + strangle him and his children in the end. What he most admired was the + strange calmness diffused through this bitter strife; so that it resembled + the rage of the sea made calm by its immensity,’ or the tumult of Niagara + which ceases to be tumult because it lasts forever. Thus, in the Laocoon, + the horror of a moment grew to be the fate of interminable ages. Kenyon + looked upon the group as the one triumph of sculpture, creating the + repose, which is essential to it, in the very acme of turbulent effort; + but, in truth, it was his mood of unwonted despondency that made him so + sensitive to the terrible magnificence, as well as to the sad moral, of + this work. Hilda herself could not have helped him to see it with nearly + such intelligence. + </p> + <p> + A good deal more depressed than the nature of the disappointment + warranted, Kenyon went to his studio, and took in hand a great lump of + clay. He soon found, however, that his plastic cunning had departed from + him for the time. So he wandered forth again into the uneasy streets of + Rome, and walked up and down the Corso, where, at that period of the day, + a throng of passers-by and loiterers choked up the narrow sidewalk. A + penitent was thus brought in contact with the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + It was a figure in a white robe, with a kind of featureless mask over the + face, through the apertures of which the eyes threw an unintelligible + light. Such odd, questionable shapes are often seen gliding through the + streets of Italian cities, and are understood to be usually persons of + rank, who quit their palaces, their gayeties, their pomp and pride, and + assume the penitential garb for a season, with a view of thus expiating + some crime, or atoning for the aggregate of petty sins that make up a + worldly life. It is their custom to ask alms, and perhaps to measure the + duration of their penance by the time requisite to accumulate a sum of + money out of the little droppings of individual charity. The avails are + devoted to some beneficent or religious purpose; so that the benefit + accruing to their own souls is, in a manner, linked with a good done, or + intended, to their fellow-men. These figures have a ghastly and startling + effect, not so much from any very impressive peculiarity in the garb, as + from the mystery which they bear about with them, and the sense that there + is an acknowledged sinfulness as the nucleus of it. + </p> + <p> + In the present instance, however, the penitent asked no alms of Kenyon; + although, for the space of a minute or two, they stood face to face, the + hollow eyes of the mask encountering the sculptor’s gaze. But, just as the + crowd was about to separate them, the former spoke, in a voice not + unfamiliar to Kenyon, though rendered remote and strange by the guilty + veil through which it penetrated. + </p> + <p> + “Is all well with you, Signore?” inquired the penitent, out of the cloud + in which he walked. + </p> + <p> + “All is well,” answered Kenyon. “And with you?” + </p> + <p> + But the masked penitent returned no answer, being borne away by the + pressure of the throng. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor stood watching the figure, and was almost of a mind to hurry + after him and follow up the conversation that had been begun; but it + occurred to him that there is a sanctity (or, as we might rather term it, + an inviolable etiquette) which prohibits the recognition of persons who + choose to walk under the veil of penitence. + </p> + <p> + “How strange!” thought Kenyon to himself. “It was surely Donatello! What + can bring him to Rome, where his recollections must be so painful, and his + presence not without peril? And Miriam! Can she have accompanied him?” + </p> + <p> + He walked on, thinking of the vast change in Donatello, since those days + of gayety and innocence, when the young Italian was new in Rome, and was + just beginning to be sensible of a more poignant felicity than he had yet + experienced, in the sunny warmth of Miriam’s smile. The growth of a soul, + which the sculptor half imagined that he had witnessed in his friend, + seemed hardly worth the heavy price that it had cost, in the sacrifice of + those simple enjoyments that were gone forever. A creature of antique + healthfulness had vanished from the earth; and, in his stead, there was + only one other morbid and remorseful man, among millions that were cast in + the same indistinguishable mould. + </p> + <p> + The accident of thus meeting Donatello the glad Faun of his imagination + and memory, now transformed into a gloomy penitent—contributed to + deepen the cloud that had fallen over Kenyon’s spirits. It caused him to + fancy, as we generally do, in the petty troubles which extend not a + hand’s-breadth beyond our own sphere, that the whole world was saddening + around him. It took the sinister aspect of an omen, although he could not + distinctly see what trouble it might forebode. + </p> + <p> + If it had not been for a peculiar sort of pique, with which lovers are + much conversant, a preposterous kind of resentment which endeavors to + wreak itself on the beloved object, and on one’s own heart, in requital of + mishaps for which neither are in fault, Kenyon might at once have betaken + himself to Hilda’s studio, and asked why the appointment was not kept. But + the interview of to-day was to have been so rich in present joy, and its + results so important to his future life, that the bleak failure was too + much for his equanimity. He was angry with poor Hilda, and censured her + without a hearing; angry with himself, too, and therefore inflicted on + this latter criminal the severest penalty in his power; angry with the day + that was passing over him, and would not permit its latter hours to redeem + the disappointment of the morning. + </p> + <p> + To confess the truth, it had been the sculptor’s purpose to stake all his + hopes on that interview in the galleries of the Vatican. Straying with + Hilda through those long vistas of ideal beauty, he meant, at last, to + utter himself upon that theme which lovers are fain to discuss in village + lanes, in wood paths, on seaside sands, in crowded streets; it little + matters where, indeed, since roses are sure to blush along the way, and + daisies and violets to spring beneath the feet, if the spoken word be + graciously received. He was resolved to make proof whether the kindness + that Hilda evinced for him was the precious token of an individual + preference, or merely the sweet fragrance of her disposition, which other + friends might share as largely as himself. He would try if it were + possible to take this shy, yet frank, and innocently fearless creature + captive, and imprison her in his heart, and make her sensible of a wider + freedom there, than in all the world besides. + </p> + <p> + It was hard, we must allow, to see the shadow of a wintry sunset falling + upon a day that was to have been so bright, and to find himself just where + yesterday had left him, only with a sense of being drearily balked, and + defeated without an opportunity for struggle. So much had been anticipated + from these now vanished hours, that it seemed as if no other day could + bring back the same golden hopes. + </p> + <p> + In a case like this, it is doubtful whether Kenyon could have done a much + better thing than he actually did, by going to dine at the Cafe Nuovo, and + drinking a flask of Montefiascone; longing, the while, for a beaker or two + of Donatello’s Sunshine. It would have been just the wine to cure a + lover’s melancholy, by illuminating his heart with tender light and + warmth, and suggestions of undefined hopes, too ethereal for his morbid + humor to examine and reject them. + </p> + <p> + No decided improvement resulting from the draught of Montefiascone, he + went to the Teatro Argentino, and sat gloomily to see an Italian comedy, + which ought to have cheered him somewhat, being full of glancing + merriment, and effective over everybody’s disabilities except his own. The + sculptor came out, however, before the close of the performance, as + disconsolate as he went in. + </p> + <p> + As he made his way through the complication of narrow streets, which + perplex that portion of the city, a carriage passed him. It was driven + rapidly, but not too fast for the light of a gas-lamp to flare upon a face + within—especially as it was bent forward, appearing to recognize + him, while a beckoning hand was protruded from the window. On his part, + Kenyon at once knew the face, and hastened to the carriage, which had now + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Miriam! you in Rome?” he exclaimed “And your friends know nothing of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Is all well with you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + This inquiry, in the identical words which Donatello had so recently + addressed to him from beneath the penitent’s mask, startled the sculptor. + Either the previous disquietude of his mind, or some tone in Miriam’s + voice, or the unaccountableness of beholding her there at all, made it + seem ominous. + </p> + <p> + “All is well, I believe,” answered he doubtfully. “I am aware of no + misfortune. Have you any to announce’?” + </p> + <p> + He looked still more earnestly at Miriam, and felt a dreamy uncertainty + whether it was really herself to whom he spoke. True; there were those + beautiful features, the contour of which he had studied too often, and + with a sculptor’s accuracy of perception, to be in any doubt that it was + Miriam’s identical face. But he was conscious of a change, the nature of + which he could not satisfactorily define; it might be merely her dress, + which, imperfect as the light was, he saw to be richer than the simple + garb that she had usually worn. The effect, he fancied, was partly owing + to a gem which she had on her bosom; not a diamond, but something that + glimmered with a clear, red lustre, like the stars in a southern sky. + Somehow or other, this colored light seemed an emanation of herself, as if + all that was passionate and glowing in her native disposition had + crystallized upon her breast, and were just now scintillating more + brilliantly than ever, in sympathy with some emotion of her heart. + </p> + <p> + Of course there could be no real doubt that it was Miriam, his artist + friend, with whom and Hilda he had spent so many pleasant and familiar + hours, and whom he had last seen at Perugia, bending with Donatello + beneath the bronze pope’s benediction. It must be that selfsame Miriam; + but the sensitive sculptor felt a difference of manner, which impressed + him more than he conceived it possible to be affected by so external a + thing. He remembered the gossip so prevalent in Rome on Miriam’s first + appearance; how that she was no real artist, but the daughter of an + illustrious or golden lineage, who was merely playing at necessity; + mingling with human struggle for her pastime; stepping out of her native + sphere only for an interlude, just as a princess might alight from her + gilded equipage to go on foot through a rustic lane. And now, after a mask + in which love and death had performed their several parts, she had resumed + her proper character. + </p> + <p> + “Have you anything to tell me?” cried he impatiently; for nothing causes a + more disagreeable vibration of the nerves than this perception of + ambiguousness in familiar persons or affairs. “Speak; for my spirits and + patience have been much tried to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Miriam put her finger on her lips, and seemed desirous that Kenyon should + know of the presence of a third person. He now saw, indeed, that, there + was some one beside her in the carriage, hitherto concealed by her + attitude; a man, it appeared, with a sallow Italian face, which the + sculptor distinguished but imperfectly, and did not recognize. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you nothing,” she replied; and leaning towards him, she + whispered,—appearing then more like the Miriam whom he knew than in + what had before passed,—“Only, when the lamp goes out do not + despair.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage drove on, leaving Kenyon to muse over this unsatisfactory + interview, which seemed to have served no better purpose than to fill his + mind with more ominous forebodings than before. Why were Donatello and + Miriam in Rome, where both, in all likelihood, might have much to dread? + And why had one and the other addressed him with a question that seemed + prompted by a knowledge of some calamity, either already fallen on his + unconscious head, or impending closely over him? + </p> + <p> + “I am sluggish,” muttered Kenyon, to himself; “a weak, nerveless fool, + devoid of energy and promptitude; or neither Donatello nor Miriam could + have escaped me thus! They are aware of some misfortune that concerns me + deeply. How soon am I to know it too?” + </p> + <p> + There seemed but a single calamity possible to happen within so narrow a + sphere as that with which the sculptor was connected; and even to that one + mode of evil he could assign no definite shape, but only felt that it must + have some reference to Hilda. + </p> + <p> + Flinging aside the morbid hesitation, and the dallyings with his own + wishes, which he had permitted to influence his mind throughout the day, + he now hastened to the Via Portoghese. Soon the old palace stood before + him, with its massive tower rising into the clouded night; obscured from + view at its midmost elevation, but revealed again, higher upward, by the + Virgin’s lamp that twinkled on the summit. Feeble as it was, in the broad, + surrounding gloom, that little ray made no inconsiderable illumination + among Kenyon’s sombre thoughts; for; remembering Miriam’s last words, a + fantasy had seized him that he should find the sacred lamp extinguished. + </p> + <p> + And even while he stood gazing, as a mariner at the star in which he put + his trust, the light quivered, sank, gleamed up again, and finally went + out, leaving the battlements of Hilda’s tower in utter darkness. For the + first time in centuries, the consecrated and legendary flame before the + loftiest shrine in Rome had ceased to burn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV + </h2> + <h3> + THE DESERTED SHRINE + </h3> + <p> + Kenyon knew the sanctity which Hilda (faithful Protestant, and daughter of + the Puritans, as the girl was) imputed to this shrine. He was aware of the + profound feeling of responsibility, as well earthly as religious, with + which her conscience had been impressed, when she became the occupant of + her aerial chamber, and undertook the task of keeping the consecrated lamp + alight. There was an accuracy and a certainty about Hilda’s movements, as + regarded all matters that lay deep enough to have their roots in right or + wrong, which made it as possible and safe to rely upon the timely and + careful trimming of this lamp (if she were in life, and able to creep up + the steps), as upon the rising of to-morrow’s sun, with + lustre-undiminished from to-day. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor could scarcely believe his eyes, therefore, when he saw the + flame flicker and expire. His sight had surely deceived him. And now, + since the light did not reappear, there must be some smoke wreath or + impenetrable mist brooding about the tower’s gray old head, and obscuring + it from the lower world. But no! For right over the dim battlements, as + the wind chased away a mass of clouds, he beheld a star, and moreover, by + an earnest concentration of his sight, was soon able to discern even the + darkened shrine itself. There was no obscurity around the tower; no + infirmity of his own vision. The flame had exhausted its supply of oil, + and become extinct. But where was Hilda? + </p> + <p> + A man in a cloak happened to be passing; and Kenyon—anxious to + distrust the testimony of his senses, if he could get more acceptable + evidence on the other side—appealed to him. + </p> + <p> + “Do me the favor, Signore,” said he, “to look at the top of yonder tower, + and tell me whether you see the lamp burning at the Virgin’s shrine.” + </p> + <p> + “The lamp, Signore?” answered the man, without at first troubling himself + to look up. “The lamp that has burned these four hundred years! How is it + possible, Signore, that it should not be burning now?” “But look!” said + the sculptor impatiently. With good-natured indulgence for what he seemed + to consider as the whim of an eccentric Forestiero, the Italian carelessly + threw his eyes upwards; but, as soon as he perceived that there was really + no light, he lifted his hands with a vivid expression of wonder and alarm. + </p> + <p> + “The lamp is extinguished!” cried he. “The lamp that has been burning + these four hundred years! This surely must portend some great misfortune; + and, by my advice, Signore, you will hasten hence, lest the tower tumble + on our heads. A priest once told me that, if the Virgin withdrew her + blessing and the light went out, the old Palazzo del Torte would sink into + the earth, with all that dwell in it. There will be a terrible crash + before morning!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger made the best of his way from the doomed premises; while + Kenyon—who would willingly have seen the tower crumble down before + his eyes, on condition of Hilda’s safety—determined, late as it was, + to attempt ascertaining if she were in her dove-cote. + </p> + <p> + Passing through the arched entrance,—which, as is often the case + with Roman entrances, was as accessible at midnight as at noon,—he + groped his way to the broad staircase, and, lighting his wax taper, went + glimmering up the multitude of steps that led to Hilda’s door. The hour + being so unseasonable, he intended merely to knock, and, as soon as her + voice from within should reassure him, to retire, keeping his explanations + and apologies for a fitter time. Accordingly, reaching the lofty height + where the maiden, as he trusted, lay asleep, with angels watching over + her, though the Virgin seemed to have suspended her care, he tapped + lightly at the door panels,—then knocked more forcibly,—then + thundered an impatient summons. No answer came; Hilda, evidently, was not + there. + </p> + <p> + After assuring himself that this must be the fact, Kenyon descended the + stairs, but made a pause at every successive stage, and knocked at the + door of its apartment, regardless whose slumbers he might disturb, in his + anxiety to learn where the girl had last been seen. But, at each closed + entrance, there came those hollow echoes, which a chamber, or any + dwelling, great or small, never sends out, in response to human knuckles + or iron hammer, as long as there is life within to keep its heart from + getting dreary. + </p> + <p> + Once indeed, on the lower landing-place, the sculptor fancied that there + was a momentary stir inside the door, as if somebody were listening at the + threshold. He hoped, at least, that the small iron-barred aperture would + be unclosed, through which Roman housekeepers are wont to take careful + cognizance of applicants for admission, from a traditionary dread, + perhaps, of letting in a robber or assassin. But it remained shut; neither + was the sound repeated; and Kenyon concluded that his excited nerves had + played a trick upon his senses, as they are apt to do when we most wish + for the clear evidence of the latter. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to be done, save to go heavily away, and await whatever + good or ill to-morrow’s daylight might disclose. + </p> + <p> + Betimes in the morning, therefore, Kenyon went back to the Via Portoghese, + before the slant rays of the sun had descended halfway down the gray front + of Hilda’s tower. As he drew near its base, he saw the doves perched in + full session, on the sunny height of the battlements, and a pair of them—who + were probably their mistress’s especial pets, and the confidants of her + bosom secrets, if Hilda had any—came shooting down, and made a feint + of alighting on his shoulder. But, though they evidently recognized him, + their shyness would not yet allow so decided a demonstration. Kenyon’s + eyes followed them as they flew upward, hoping that they might have come + as joyful messengers of the girl’s safety, and that he should discern her + slender form, half hidden by the parapet, trimming the extinguished lamp + at the Virgin’s shrine, just as other maidens set about the little duties + of a household. Or, perhaps, he might see her gentle and sweet face + smiling down upon him, midway towards heaven, as if she had flown thither + for a day or two, just to visit her kindred, but had been drawn earthward + again by the spell of unacknowledged love. + </p> + <p> + But his eyes were blessed by no such fair vision or reality; nor, in + truth, were the eager, unquiet flutterings of the doves indicative of any + joyful intelligence, which they longed to share with Hilda’s friend, but + of anxious inquiries that they knew not how to utter. They could not tell, + any more than he, whither their lost companion had withdrawn herself, but + were in the same void despondency with him, feeling their sunny and airy + lives darkened and grown imperfect, now that her sweet society was taken + out of it. + </p> + <p> + In the brisk morning air, Kenyon found it much easier to pursue his + researches than at the preceding midnight, when, if any slumberers heard + the clamor that he made, they had responded only with sullen and drowsy + maledictions, and turned to sleep again. It must be a very dear and + intimate reality for which people will be content to give up a dream. When + the sun was fairly up, however, it was quite another thing. The + heterogeneous population, inhabiting the lower floor of the old tower, and + the other extensive regions of the palace, were now willing to tell all + they knew, and imagine a great deal more. The amiability of these + Italians, assisted by their sharp and nimble wits, caused them to overflow + with plausible suggestions, and to be very bounteous in their avowals of + interest for the lost Hilda. In a less demonstrative people, such + expressions would have implied an eagerness to search land and sea, and + never rest till she were found. In the mouths that uttered them they meant + good wishes, and were, so far, better than indifference. There was little + doubt that many of them felt a genuine kindness for the shy, brown-haired, + delicate young foreign maiden, who had flown from some distant land to + alight upon their tower, where she consorted only with the doves. But + their energy expended itself in exclamation, and they were content to + leave all more active measures to Kenyon, and to the Virgin, whose affair + it was to see that the faithful votary of her lamp received no harm. + </p> + <p> + In a great Parisian domicile, multifarious as its inhabitants might be, + the concierge under the archway would be cognizant of all their incomings + and issuings forth. But except in rare cases, the general entrance and + main staircase of a Roman house are left as free as the street, of which + they form a sort of by-lane. The sculptor, therefore, could hope to find + information about Hilda’s movements only from casual observers. + </p> + <p> + On probing the knowledge of these people to the bottom, there was various + testimony as to the period when the girl had last been seen. Some said + that it was four days since there had been a trace of her; but an English + lady, in the second piano of the palace, was rather of opinion that she + had met her, the morning before, with a drawing-book in her hand. Having + no acquaintance with the young person, she had taken little notice and + might have been mistaken. A count, on the piano next above, was very + certain that he had lifted his hat to Hilda, under the archway, two + afternoons ago. An old woman, who had formerly tended the shrine, threw + some light upon the matter, by testifying that the lamp required to be + replenished once, at least, in three days, though its reservoir of oil was + exceedingly capacious. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, though there was other evidence enough to create some + perplexity, Kenyon could not satisfy himself that she had been visible + since the afternoon of the third preceding day, when a fruit seller + remembered her coming out of the arched passage, with a sealed packet in + her hand. As nearly as he could ascertain, this was within an hour after + Hilda had taken leave of the sculptor at his own studio, with the + understanding that they were to meet at the Vatican the next day. Two + nights, therefore, had intervened, during which the lost maiden was + unaccounted for. + </p> + <p> + The door of Hilda’s apartments was still locked, as on the preceding + night; but Kenyon sought out the wife of the person who sublet them, and + prevailed on her to give him admittance by means of the duplicate key + which the good woman had in her possession. On entering, the maidenly + neatness and simple grace, recognizable in all the arrangements, made him + visibly sensible that this was the daily haunt of a pure soul, in whom + religion and the love of beauty were at one. + </p> + <p> + Thence, the sturdy Roman matron led the sculptor across a narrow passage, + and threw open the door of a small chamber, on the threshold of which he + reverently paused. Within, there was a bed, covered with white drapery, + enclosed with snowy curtains like a tent, and of barely width enough for a + slender figure to repose upon it. The sight of this cool, airy, and + secluded bower caused the lover’s heart to stir as if enough of Hilda’s + gentle dreams were lingering there to make him happy for a single instant. + But then came the closer consciousness of her loss, bringing along with it + a sharp sting of anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Behold, Signore,” said the matron; “here is the little staircase by which + the signorina used to ascend and trim the Blessed Virgin’s lamp. She was + worthy to be a Catholic, such pains the good child bestowed to keep it + burning; and doubtless the Blessed Mary will intercede for her, in + consideration of her pious offices, heretic though she was. What will + become of the old palazzo, now that the lamp is extinguished, the saints + above us only know! Will you mount, Signore, to the battlements, and see + if she have left any trace of herself there?” + </p> + <p> + The sculptor stepped across the chamber and ascended the little staircase, + which gave him access to the breezy summit of the tower. It affected him + inexpressibly to see a bouquet of beautiful flowers beneath the shrine, + and to recognize in them an offering of his own to Hilda, who had put them + in a vase of water, and dedicated them to the Virgin, in a spirit partly + fanciful, perhaps, but still partaking of the religious sentiment which so + profoundly influenced her character. One rosebud, indeed, she had selected + for herself from the rich mass of flowers; for Kenyon well remembered + recognizing it in her bosom when he last saw her at his studio. + </p> + <p> + “That little part of my great love she took,” said he to himself. “The + remainder she would have devoted to Heaven; but has left it withering in + the sun and wind. Ah! Hilda, Hilda, had you given me a right to watch over + you, this evil had not come!” + </p> + <p> + “Be not downcast, signorino mio,” said the Roman matron, in response to + the deep sigh which struggled out of Kenyon’s breast. “The dear little + maiden, as we see, has decked yonder blessed shrine as devoutly as I + myself, or any Other good Catholic woman, could have done. It is a + religious act, and has more than the efficacy of a prayer. The signorina + will as surely come back as the sun will fall through the window to-morrow + no less than to-day. Her own doves have often been missing for a day or + two, but they were sure to come fluttering about her head again, when she + least expected them. So will it be with this dove-like child.” + </p> + <p> + “It might be so,” thought Kenyon, with yearning anxiety, “if a pure maiden + were as safe as a dove, in this evil world of ours.” + </p> + <p> + As they returned through the studio, with the furniture and arrangements + of which the sculptor was familiar, he missed a small ebony writing-desk + that he remembered as having always been placed on a table there. He knew + that it was Hilda’s custom to deposit her letters in this desk, as well as + other little objects of which she wished to be specially careful. + </p> + <p> + “What has become of it?” he suddenly inquired, laying his hand on the + table. + </p> + <p> + “Become of what, pray?” exclaimed the woman, a little disturbed. “Does the + Signore suspect a robbery, then?” + </p> + <p> + “The signorina’s writing-desk is gone,” replied Kenyon; “it always stood + on this table, and I myself saw it there only a few days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well!” said the woman, recovering her composure, which she seemed + partly to have lost. “The signorina has doubtless taken it away with her. + The fact is of good omen; for it proves that she did not go unexpectedly, + and is likely to return when it may best suit her convenience.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very singular,” observed Kenyon. “Have the rooms been entered by + yourself, or any other person, since the signorina’s disappearance?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by me, Signore, so help me Heaven and the saints!” said the matron. + “And I question whether there are more than two keys in Rome that will + suit this strange old lock. Here is one; and as for the other, the + signorina carlies it in her pocket.” + </p> + <p> + The sculptor had no reason to doubt the word of this respectable dame. She + appeared to be well meaning and kind hearted, as Roman matrons generally + are; except when a fit of passion incites them to shower horrible curses + on an obnoxious individual, or perhaps to stab him with the steel stiletto + that serves them for a hairpin. But Italian asseverations of any + questionable fact, however true they may chance to be, have no witness of + their truth in the faces of those who utter them. Their words are spoken + with strange earnestness, and yet do not vouch for themselves as coming + from any depth, like roots drawn out of the substance of the soul, with + some of the soil clinging to them. There is always a something + inscrutable, instead of frankness, in their eyes. In short, they lie so + much like truth, and speak truth so much as if they were telling a lie, + that their auditor suspects himself in the wrong, whether he believes or + disbelieves them; it being the one thing certain, that falsehood is seldom + an intolerable burden to the tenderest of Italian consciences. + </p> + <p> + “It is very strange what can have become of the desk!” repeated Kenyon, + looking the woman in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Very strange, indeed, Signore,” she replied meekly, without turning away + her eyes in the least, but checking his insight of them at about half an + inch below the surface. “I think the signorina must have taken it with + her.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed idle to linger here any longer. Kenyon therefore departed, after + making an arrangement with the woman, by the terms of which she was to + allow the apartments to remain in their present state, on his assuming the + responsibility for the rent. + </p> + <p> + He spent the day in making such further search and investigation as he + found practicable; and, though at first trammelled by an unwillingness to + draw public attention to Hilda’s affairs, the urgency of the circumstances + soon compelled him to be thoroughly in earnest. In the course of a week, + he tried all conceivable modes of fathoming the mystery, not merely by his + personal efforts and those of his brother artists and friends, but through + the police, who readily undertook the task, and expressed strong + confidence of success. But the Roman police has very little efficiency, + except in the interest of the despotism of which it is a tool. With their + cocked hats, shoulder belts, and swords, they wear a sufficiently imposing + aspect, and doubtless keep their eyes open wide enough to track a + political offender, but are too often blind to private outrage, be it + murder or any lesser crime. Kenyon counted little upon their assistance, + and profited by it not at all. + </p> + <p> + Remembering the mystic words which Miriam had addressed to him, he was + anxious to meet her, but knew not whither she had gone, nor how to obtain + an interview either with herself or Donatello. The days wore away, and + still there were no tidings of the lost one; no lamp rekindled before the + Virgin’s shrine; no light shining into the lover’s heart; no star of Hope—he + was ready to say, as he turned his eyes almost reproachfully upward—in + heaven itself! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV + </h2> + <h3> + THE FLIGHT OF HILDA’S DOVES + </h3> + <p> + Along with the lamp on Hilda’s tower, the sculptor now felt that a light + had gone out, or, at least, was ominously obscured, to which he owed + whatever cheerfulness had heretofore illuminated his cold, artistic life. + The idea of this girl had been like a taper of virgin wax, burning with a + pure and steady flame, and chasing away the evil spirits out of the magic + circle of its beams. It had darted its rays afar, and modified the whole + sphere in which Kenyon had his being. Beholding it no more, he at once + found himself in darkness and astray. + </p> + <p> + This was the time, perhaps, when Kenyon first became sensible what a + dreary city is Rome, and what a terrible weight is there imposed on human + life, when any gloom within the heart corresponds to the spell of ruin + that has been thrown over the site of ancient empire. He wandered, as it + were, and stumbled over the fallen columns, and among the tombs, and + groped his way into the sepulchral darkness of the catacombs, and found no + path emerging from them. The happy may well enough continue to be such, + beneath the brilliant sky of Rome. But, if you go thither in melancholy + mood, if you go with a ruin in your heart, or with a vacant site there, + where once stood the airy fabric of happiness, now vanished,—all the + ponderous gloom of the Roman Past will pile itself upon that spot, and + crush you down as with the heaped-up marble and granite, the earth-mounds, + and multitudinous bricks of its material decay. + </p> + <p> + It might be supposed that a melancholy man would here make acquaintance + with a grim philosophy. He should learn to bear patiently his individual + griefs, that endure only for one little lifetime, when here are the tokens + of such infinite misfortune on an imperial scale, and when so many far + landmarks of time, all around him, are bringing the remoteness of a + thousand years ago into the sphere of yesterday. But it is in vain that + you seek this shrub of bitter sweetness among the plants that root + themselves on the roughness of massive walls, or trail downward from the + capitals of pillars, or spring out of the green turf in the palace of the + Caesars. It does not grow in Rome; not even among the five hundred various + weeds which deck the grassy arches of the Coliseum. You look through a + vista of century beyond century,—through much shadow, and a little + sunshine,—through barbarism and civilization, alternating with one + another like actors that have prearranged their parts: through a broad + pathway of progressive generations bordered by palaces and temples, and + bestridden by old, triumphal arches, until, in the distance, you behold + the obelisks, with their unintelligible inscriptions, hinting at a past + infinitely more remote than history can define. Your own life is as + nothing, when compared with that immeasurable distance; but still you + demand, none the less earnestly, a gleam of sunshine, instead of a speck + of shadow, on the step or two that will bring you to your quiet rest. + </p> + <p> + How exceedingly absurd! All men, from the date of the earliest obelisk,—and + of the whole world, moreover, since that far epoch, and before,—have + made a similar demand, and seldom had their wish. If they had it, what are + they the better now? But, even while you taunt yourself with this sad + lesson, your heart cries out obstreperously for its small share of earthly + happiness, and will not be appeased by the myriads of dead hopes that lie + crushed into the soil of Rome. How wonderful that this our narrow foothold + of the Present should hold its own so constantly, and, while every moment + changing, should still be like a rock betwixt the encountering tides of + the long Past and the infinite To-come! + </p> + <p> + Man of marble though he was, the sculptor grieved for the Irrevocable. + Looking back upon Hilda’s way of life, he marvelled at his own blind + stupidity, which had kept him from remonstrating as a friend, if with no + stronger right against the risks that she continually encountered. Being + so innocent, she had no means of estimating those risks, nor even a + possibility of suspecting their existence. But he—who had spent + years in Rome, with a man’s far wider scope of observation and experience—knew + things that made him shudder. It seemed to Kenyon, looking through the + darkly colored medium of his fears, that all modes of crime were crowded + into the close intricacy of Roman streets, and that there was no redeeming + element, such as exists in other dissolute and wicked cities. + </p> + <p> + For here was a priesthood, pampered, sensual, with red and bloated cheeks, + and carnal eyes. With apparently a grosser development of animal life than + most men, they were placed in an unnatural relation with woman, and + thereby lost the healthy, human conscience that pertains to other human + beings, who own the sweet household ties connecting them with wife and + daughter. And here was an indolent nobility, with no high aims or + opportunities, but cultivating a vicious way of life, as if it were an + art, and the only one which they cared to learn. Here was a population, + high and low, that had no genuine belief in virtue; and if they recognized + any act as criminal, they might throw off all care, remorse, and memory of + it, by kneeling a little while at the confessional, and rising unburdened, + active, elastic, and incited by fresh appetite for the next ensuing sin. + Here was a soldiery who felt Rome to be their conquered city, and + doubtless considered themselves the legal inheritors of the foul license + which Gaul, Goth, and Vandal have here exercised in days gone by. + </p> + <p> + And what localities for new crime existed in those guilty sites, where the + crime of departed ages used to be at home, and had its long, hereditary + haunt! What street in Rome, what ancient ruin, what one place where man + had standing-room, what fallen stone was there, unstained with one or + another kind of guilt! In some of the vicissitudes of the city’s pride or + its calamity, the dark tide of human evil had swelled over it, far higher + than the Tiber ever rose against the acclivities of the seven hills. To + Kenyon’s morbid view, there appeared to be a contagious element, rising + fog-like from the ancient depravity of Rome, and brooding over the dead + and half-rotten city, as nowhere else on earth. It prolonged the tendency + to crime, and developed an instantaneous growth of it, whenever an + opportunity was found; And where could it be found so readily as here! In + those vast palaces, there were a hundred remote nooks where Innocence + might shriek in vain. Beneath meaner houses there were unsuspected + dungeons that had once been princely chambers, and open to the daylight; + but, on account of some wickedness there perpetrated, each passing age had + thrown its handful of dust upon the spot, and buried it from sight. Only + ruffians knew of its existence, and kept it for murder, and worse crime. + </p> + <p> + Such was the city through which Hilda, for three years past, had been + wandering without a protector or a guide. She had trodden lightly over the + crumble of old crimes; she had taken her way amid the grime and corruption + which Paganism had left there, and a perverted Christianity had made more + noisome; walking saint-like through it all, with white, innocent feet; + until, in some dark pitfall that lay right across her path, she had + vanished out of sight. It was terrible to imagine what hideous outrage + might have thrust her into that abyss! + </p> + <p> + Then the lover tried to comfort himself with the idea that Hilda’s + sanctity was a sufficient safeguard. Ah, yes; she was so pure! The angels, + that were of the same sisterhood, would never let Hilda come to harm. A + miracle would be wrought on her behalf, as naturally as a father would + stretch out his hand to save a best-beloved child. Providence would keep a + little area and atmosphere about her as safe and wholesome as heaven + itself, although the flood of perilous iniquity might hem her round, and + its black waves hang curling above her head! But these reflections were of + slight avail. No doubt they were the religious truth. Yet the ways of + Providence are utterly inscrutable; and many a murder has been done, and + many an innocent virgin has lifted her white arms, beseeching its aid in + her extremity, and all in vain; so that, though Providence is infinitely + good and wise, and perhaps for that very reason, it may be half an + eternity before the great circle of its scheme shall bring us the + superabundant recompense for all these sorrows! But what the lover asked + was such prompt consolation as might consist with the brief span of mortal + life; the assurance of Hilda’s present safety, and her restoration within + that very hour. + </p> + <p> + An imaginative man, he suffered the penalty of his endowment in the + hundred-fold variety of gloomily tinted scenes that it presented to him, + in which Hilda was always a central figure. The sculptor forgot his + marble. Rome ceased to be anything, for him, but a labyrinth of dismal + streets, in one or another of which the lost girl had disappeared. He was + haunted with the idea that some circumstance, most important to be known, + and perhaps easily discoverable, had hitherto been overlooked, and that, + if he could lay hold of this one clew, it would guide him directly in the + track of Hilda’s footsteps. With this purpose in view, he went, every + morning, to the Via Portoghese, and made it the starting-point of fresh + investigations. After nightfall, too, he invariably returned thither, with + a faint hope fluttering at his heart that the lamp might again be shining + on the summit of the tower, and would dispel this ugly mystery out of the + circle consecrated by its rays. There being no point of which he could + take firm hold, his mind was filled with unsubstantial hopes and fears. + Once Kenyon had seemed to cut his life in marble; now he vaguely clutched + at it, and found it vapor. + </p> + <p> + In his unstrung and despondent mood, one trifling circumstance affected + him with an idle pang. The doves had at first been faithful to their lost + mistress. They failed not to sit in a row upon her window-sill, or to + alight on the shrine, or the church-angels, and on the roofs and portals + of the neighboring houses, in evident expectation of her reappearance. + After the second week, however, they began to take flight, and dropping + off by pairs, betook themselves to other dove-cotes. Only a single dove + remained, and brooded drearily beneath the shrine. The flock that had + departed were like the many hopes that had vanished from Kenyon’s heart; + the one that still lingered, and looked so wretched,—was it a Hope, + or already a Despair? + </p> + <p> + In the street, one day, the sculptor met a priest of mild and venerable + aspect; and as his mind dwelt continually upon Hilda, and was especially + active in bringing up all incidents that had ever been connected with her, + it immediately struck him that this was the very father with whom he had + seen her at the confessional. Such trust did Hilda inspire in him, that + Kenyon had never asked what was the subject of the communication between + herself and this old priest. He had no reason for imagining that it could + have any relation with her disappearance, so long subsequently; but, being + thus brought face to face with a personage, mysteriously associated, as he + now remembered, with her whom he had lost, an impulse ran before his + thoughts and led the sculptor to address him. + </p> + <p> + It might be that the reverend kindliness of the old man’s expression took + Kenyon’s heart by surprise; at all events, he spoke as if there were a + recognized acquaintanceship, and an object of mutual interest between + them. + </p> + <p> + “She has gone from me, father,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Of whom do you speak, my son?” inquired the priest. + </p> + <p> + “Of that sweet girl,” answered Kenyon, “who knelt to you at the + confessional. Surely you remember her, among all the mortals to whose + confessions you have listened! For she alone could have had no sins to + reveal.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I remember,” said the priest, with a gleam of recollection in his + eyes. “She was made to bear a miraculous testimony to the efficacy of the + divine ordinances of the Church, by seizing forcibly upon one of them, and + finding immediate relief from it, heretic though she was. It is my purpose + to publish a brief narrative of this miracle, for the edification of + mankind, in Latin, Italian, and English, from the printing press of the + Propaganda. Poor child! Setting apart her heresy, she was spotless, as you + say. And is she dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid, father!” exclaimed Kenyon, shrinking back. “But she has + gone from me, I know not whither. It may be—yes, the idea seizes + upon my mind—that what she revealed to you will suggest some clew to + the mystery of her disappearance.’” + </p> + <p> + “None, my son, none,” answered the priest, shaking his head; + “nevertheless, I bid you be of good cheer. That young maiden is not doomed + to die a heretic. Who knows what the Blessed Virgin may at this moment be + doing for her soul! Perhaps, when you next behold her, she will be clad in + the shining white robe of the true faith.” + </p> + <p> + This latter suggestion did not convey all the comfort which the old priest + possibly intended by it; but he imparted it to the sculptor, along with + his blessing, as the two best things that he could bestow, and said + nothing further, except to bid him farewell. + </p> + <p> + When they had parted, however, the idea of Hilda’s conversion to + Catholicism recurred to her lover’s mind, bringing with it certain + reflections, that gave a new turn to his surmises about the mystery into + which she had vanished. Not that he seriously apprehended—although + the superabundance of her religious sentiment might mislead her for a + moment—that the New England girl would permanently succumb to the + scarlet superstitions which surrounded her in Italy. But the incident of + the confessional if known, as probably it was, to the eager propagandists + who prowl about for souls, as cats to catch a mouse—would surely + inspire the most confident expectations of bringing her over to the faith. + With so pious an end in view, would Jesuitical morality be shocked at the + thought of kidnapping the mortal body, for the sake of the immortal spirit + that might otherwise be lost forever? Would not the kind old priest, + himself, deem this to be infinitely the kindest service that he could + perform for the stray lamb, who had so strangely sought his aid? + </p> + <p> + If these suppositions were well founded, Hilda was most likely a prisoner + in one of the religious establishments that are so numerous in Rome. The + idea, according to the aspect in which it was viewed, brought now a degree + of comfort, and now an additional perplexity. On the one hand, Hilda was + safe from any but spiritual assaults; on the other, where was the + possibility of breaking through all those barred portals, and searching a + thousand convent cells, to set her free? + </p> + <p> + Kenyon, however, as it happened, was prevented from endeavoring to follow + out this surmise, which only the state of hopeless uncertainty, that + almost bewildered his reason, could have led him for a moment to + entertain. A communication reached him by an unknown hand, in consequence + of which, and within an hour after receiving it, he took his way through + one of the gates of Rome. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI + </h2> + <h3> + A WALK ON THE CAMPAGNA + </h3> + <p> + It was a bright forenoon of February; a month in which the brief severity + of a Roman winter is already past, and when violets and daisies begin to + show themselves in spots favored by the sun. The sculptor came out of the + city by the gate of San Sebastiano, and walked briskly along the Appian + Way. + </p> + <p> + For the space of a mile or two beyond the gate, this ancient and famous + road is as desolate and disagreeable as most of the other Roman avenues. + It extends over small, uncomfortable paving-stones, between brick and + plastered walls, which are very solidly constructed, and so high as almost + to exclude a view of the surrounding country. The houses are of most + uninviting aspect, neither picturesque, nor homelike and social; they have + seldom or never a door opening on the wayside, but are accessible only + from the rear, and frown inhospitably upon the traveller through + iron-grated windows. Here and there appears a dreary inn or a wine-shop, + designated by the withered bush beside the entrance, within which you + discern a stone-built and sepulchral interior, where guests refresh + themselves with sour bread and goats’-milk cheese, washed down with wine + of dolorous acerbity. + </p> + <p> + At frequent intervals along the roadside up-rises the ruin of an ancient + tomb. As they stand now, these structures are immensely high and broken + mounds of conglomerated brick, stone, pebbles, and earth, all molten by + time into a mass as solid and indestructible as if each tomb were composed + of a single boulder of granite. When first erected, they were cased + externally, no doubt, with slabs of polished marble, artfully wrought + bas-reliefs, and all such suitable adornments, and were rendered + majestically beautiful by grand architectural designs. This antique + splendor has long since been stolen from the dead, to decorate the palaces + and churches of the living. Nothing remains to the dishonored sepulchres, + except their massiveness. + </p> + <p> + Even the pyramids form hardly a stranger spectacle, or are more alien from + human sympathies, than the tombs of the Appian Way, with their gigantic + height, breadth, and solidity, defying time and the elements, and far too + mighty to be demolished by an ordinary earthquake. Here you may see a + modern dwelling, and a garden with its vines and olive-trees, perched on + the lofty dilapidation of a tomb, which forms a precipice of fifty feet in + depth on each of the four sides. There is a home on that funereal mound, + where generations of children have been born, and successive lives been + spent, undisturbed by the ghost of the stern Roman whose ashes were so + preposterously burdened. Other sepulchres wear a crown of grass, + shrubbery, and forest-trees, which throw out a broad sweep of branches, + having had time, twice over, to be a thousand years of age. On one of them + stands a tower, which, though immemorially more modern than the tomb, was + itself built by immemorial hands, and is now rifted quite from top to + bottom by a vast fissure of decay; the tomb-hillock, its foundation, being + still as firm as ever, and likely to endure until the last trump shall + rend it wide asunder, and summon forth its unknown dead. + </p> + <p> + Yes; its unknown dead! For, except in one or two doubtful instances, these + mountainous sepulchral edifices have not availed to keep so much as the + bare name of an individual or a family from oblivion. Ambitious of + everlasting remembrance, as they were, the slumberers might just as well + have gone quietly to rest, each in his pigeon-hole of a columbarium, or + under his little green hillock in a graveyard, without a headstone to mark + the spot. It is rather satisfactory than otherwise, to think that all + these idle pains have turned out so utterly abortive. + </p> + <p> + About two miles, or more, from the city gate, and right upon the roadside, + Kenyon passed an immense round pile, sepulchral in its original purposes, + like those already mentioned. It was built of great blocks of hewn stone, + on a vast, square foundation of rough, agglomerated material, such as + composes the mass of all the other ruinous tombs. But whatever might be + the cause, it was in a far better state of preservation than they. On its + broad summit rose the battlements of a mediaeval fortress, out of the + midst of which (so long since had time begun to crumble the supplemental + structure, and cover it with soil, by means of wayside dust) grew trees, + bushes, and thick festoons of ivy. This tomb of a woman had become the + citadel and donjon-keep of a castle; and all the care that Cecilia + Metella’s husband could bestow, to secure endless peace for her beloved + relics, had only sufficed to make that handful of precious ashes the + nucleus of battles, long ages after her death. + </p> + <p> + A little beyond this point, the sculptor turned aside from the Appian Way, + and directed his course across the Campagna, guided by tokens that were + obvious only to himself. On one side of him, but at a distance, the + Claudian aqueduct was striding over fields and watercourses. Before him, + many miles away, with a blue atmosphere between, rose the Alban hills, + brilliantly silvered with snow and sunshine. + </p> + <p> + He was not without a companion. A buffalo-calf, that seemed shy and + sociable by the selfsame impulse, had begun to make acquaintance with him, + from the moment when he left the road. This frolicsome creature gambolled + along, now before, now behind; standing a moment to gaze at him, with + wild, curious eyes, he leaped aside and shook his shaggy head, as Kenyon + advanced too nigh; then, after loitering in the rear, he came galloping + up, like a charge of cavalry, but halted, all of a sudden, when the + sculptor turned to look, and bolted across the Campagna at the slightest + signal of nearer approach. The young, sportive thing, Kenyon half fancied, + was serving him as a guide, like the heifer that led Cadmus to the site of + his destined city; for, in spite of a hundred vagaries, his general course + was in the right direction, and along by several objects which the + sculptor had noted as landmarks of his way. + </p> + <p> + In this natural intercourse with a rude and healthy form of animal life, + there was something that wonderfully revived Kenyon’s spirits. The warm + rays of the sun, too, were wholesome for him in body and soul; and so was + a breeze that bestirred itself occasionally, as if for the sole purpose of + breathing upon his cheek and dying softly away, when he would fain have + felt a little more decided kiss. This shy but loving breeze reminded him + strangely of what Hilda’s deportment had sometimes been towards himself. + </p> + <p> + The weather had very much to do, no doubt, with these genial and + delightful sensations, that made the sculptor so happy with mere life, in + spite of a head and heart full of doleful thoughts, anxieties, and fears, + which ought in all reason to have depressed him. It was like no weather + that exists anywhere, save in Paradise and in Italy; certainly not in + America, where it is always too strenuous on the side either of heat or + cold. Young as the season was, and wintry, as it would have been under a + more rigid sky, it resembled summer rather than what we New Englanders + recognize in our idea of spring. But there was an indescribable something, + sweet, fresh, and remotely affectionate, which the matronly summer loses, + and which thrilled, and, as it were, tickled Kenyon’s heart with a feeling + partly of the senses, yet far more a spiritual delight. In a word, it was + as if Hilda’s delicate breath were on his cheek. + </p> + <p> + After walking at a brisk pace for about half an hour, he reached a spot + where an excavation appeared to have been begun, at some not very distant + period. There was a hollow space in the earth, looking exceedingly like a + deserted cellar, being enclosed within old subterranean walls, constructed + of thin Roman bricks, and made accessible by a narrow flight of stone + steps. A suburban villa had probably stood over this site, in the imperial + days of Rome, and these might have been the ruins of a bathroom, or some + other apartment that was required to be wholly or partly under ground. A + spade can scarcely be put into that soil, so rich in lost and forgotten + things, without hitting upon some discovery which would attract all eyes, + in any other land. If you dig but a little way, you gather bits of + precious marble, coins, rings, and engraved gems; if you go deeper, you + break into columbaria, or into sculptured and richly frescoed apartments + that look like festive halls, but were only sepulchres. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor descended into the cellar-like cavity, and sat down on a + block of stone. His eagerness had brought him thither sooner than the + appointed hour. The sunshine fell slantwise into the hollow, and happened + to be resting on what Kenyon at first took to be a shapeless fragment of + stone, possibly marble, which was partly concealed by the crumbling down + of earth. + </p> + <p> + But his practised eye was soon aware of something artistic in this rude + object. To relieve the anxious tedium of his situation, he cleared away + some of the soil, which seemed to have fallen very recently, and + discovered a headless figure of marble. It was earth stained, as well it + might be, and had a slightly corroded surface, but at once impressed the + sculptor as a Greek production, and wonderfully delicate and beautiful. + The head was gone; both arms were broken off at the elbow. Protruding from + the loose earth, however, Kenyon beheld the fingers of a marble hand; it + was still appended to its arm, and a little further search enabled him to + find the other. Placing these limbs in what the nice adjustment of the + fractures proved to be their true position, the poor, fragmentary woman + forthwith showed that she retained her modest instincts to the last. She + had perished with them, and snatched them back at the moment of revival. + For these long-buried hands immediately disposed themselves in the manner + that nature prompts, as the antique artist knew, and as all the world has + seen, in the Venus de’ Medici. + </p> + <p> + “What a discovery is here!” thought Kenyon to himself. “I seek for Hilda, + and find a marble woman! Is the omen good or ill?” + </p> + <p> + In a corner of the excavation lay a small round block of stone, much + incrusted with earth that had dried and hardened upon it. So, at least, + you would have described this object, until the sculptor lifted it, turned + it hither and thither in his hands, brushed off the clinging soil, and + finally placed it on the slender neck of the newly discovered statue. The + effect was magical. It immediately lighted up and vivified the whole + figure, endowing it with personality, soul, and intelligence. The + beautiful Idea at once asserted its immortality, and converted that heap + of forlorn fragments into a whole, as perfect to the mind, if not to the + eye, as when the new marble gleamed with snowy lustre; nor was the + impression marred by the earth that still hung upon the exquisitely + graceful limbs, and even filled the lovely crevice of the lips. Kenyon + cleared it away from between them, and almost deemed himself rewarded with + a living smile. + </p> + <p> + It was either the prototype or a better repetition of the Venus of the + Tribune. But those who have been dissatisfied with the small head, the + narrow, soulless face, the button-hole eyelids, of that famous statue, and + its mouth such as nature never moulded, should see the genial breadth of + this far nobler and sweeter countenance. It is one of the few works of + antique sculpture in which we recognize womanhood, and that, moreover, + without prejudice to its divinity. + </p> + <p> + Here, then, was a treasure for the sculptor to have found! How happened it + to be lying there, beside its grave of twenty centuries? Why were not the + tidings of its discovery already noised abroad? The world was richer than + yesterday, by something far more precious than gold. Forgotten beauty had + come back, as beautiful as ever; a goddess had risen from her long + slumber, and was a goddess still. Another cabinet in the Vatican was + destined to shine as lustrously as that of the Apollo Belvedere; or, if + the aged pope should resign his claim, an emperor would woo this tender + marble, and win her as proudly as an imperial bride! + </p> + <p> + Such were the thoughts with which Kenyon exaggerated to himself the + importance of the newly discovered statue, and strove to feel at least a + portion of the interest which this event would have inspired in him a + little while before. But, in reality, he found it difficult to fix his + mind upon the subject. He could hardly, we fear, be reckoned a consummate + artist, because there was something dearer to him than his art; and, by + the greater strength of a human affection, the divine statue seemed to + fall asunder again, and become only a heap of worthless fragments. + </p> + <p> + While the sculptor sat listlessly gazing at it, there was a sound of small + hoofs, clumsily galloping on the Campagna; and soon his frisky + acquaintance, the buffalo-calf, came and peeped over the edge of the + excavation. Almost at the same moment he heard voices, which approached + nearer and nearer; a man’s voice, and a feminine one, talking the musical + tongue of Italy. Besides the hairy visage of his four footed friend, + Kenyon now saw the figures of a peasant and a contadina, making gestures + of salutation to him, on the opposite verge of the hollow space. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII + </h2> + <h3> + THE PEASANT AND CONTADINA + </h3> + <p> + They descended into the excavation: a young peasant, in the short blue + jacket, the small-clothes buttoned at the knee, and buckled shoes, that + compose one of the ugliest dresses ever worn by man, except the wearer’s + form have a grace which any garb, or the nudity of an antique statue, + would equally set off; and, hand in hand with him, a village girl, in one + of those brilliant costumes largely kindled up with scarlet, and decorated + with gold embroidery, in which the contadinas array themselves on + feast-days. But Kenyon was not deceived; he had recognized the voices of + his friends, indeed, even before their disguised figures came between him + and the sunlight. Donatello was the peasant; the contadina, with the airy + smile, half mirthful, though it shone out of melancholy eyes,—was + Miriam. + </p> + <p> + They both greeted the sculptor with a familiar kindness which reminded him + of the days when Hilda and they and he had lived so happily together, + before the mysterious adventure of the catacomb. What a succession of + sinister events had followed one spectral figure out of that gloomy + labyrinth. + </p> + <p> + “It is carnival time, you know,” said Miriam, as if in explanation of + Donatello’s and her own costume. “Do you remember how merrily we spent the + Carnival, last year?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems many years ago,” replied Kenyon. “We are all so changed!” + </p> + <p> + When individuals approach one another with deep purposes on both sides, + they seldom come at once to the matter which they have most at heart. They + dread the electric shock of a too sudden contact with it. A natural + impulse leads them to steal gradually onward, hiding themselves, as it + were, behind a closer, and still a closer topic, until they stand face to + face with the true point of interest. Miriam was conscious of this + impulse, and partially obeyed it. + </p> + <p> + “So your instincts as a sculptor have brought you into the presence of our + newly discovered statue,” she observed. “Is it not beautiful? A far truer + image of immortal womanhood than the poor little damsel at Florence, world + famous though she be.” + </p> + <p> + “Most beautiful,” said Kenyon, casting an indifferent glance at the Venus. + “The time has been when the sight of this statue would have been enough to + make the day memorable.” + </p> + <p> + “And will it not do so now?” Miriam asked. + </p> + <p> + “I fancied so, indeed, when we discovered it two days ago. It is + Donatello’s prize. We were sitting here together, planning an interview + with you, when his keen eyes detected the fallen goddess, almost entirely + buried under that heap of earth, which the clumsy excavators showered down + upon her, I suppose. We congratulated ourselves, chiefly for your sake. + The eyes of us three are the only ones to which she has yet revealed + herself. Does it not frighten you a little, like the apparition of a + lovely woman that livid of old, and has long lain in the grave?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Miriam! I cannot respond to you,” said the sculptor, with + irrepressible impatience. “Imagination and the love of art have both died + out of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Miriam,” interposed Donatello with gentle gravity, “why should we keep + our friend in suspense? We know what anxiety he feels. Let us give him + what intelligence we can.” + </p> + <p> + “You are so direct and immediate, my beloved friend!” answered Miriam with + an unquiet smile. “There are several reasons why I should like to play + round this matter a little while, and cover it with fanciful thoughts, as + we strew a grave with flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “A grave!” exclaimed the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “No grave in which your heart need be buried,” she replied; “you have no + such calamity to dread. But I linger and hesitate, because every word I + speak brings me nearer to a crisis from which I shrink. Ah, Donatello! let + us live a little longer the life of these last few days! It is so bright, + so airy, so childlike, so without either past or future! Here, on the wild + Campagna, you seem to have found, both for yourself and me, the life that + belonged to you in early youth; the sweet irresponsible life which you + inherited from your mythic ancestry, the Fauns of Monte Beni. Our stern + and black reality will come upon us speedily enough. But, first, a brief + time more of this strange happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not linger upon it,” answered Donatello, with an expression that + reminded the sculptor of the gloomiest days of his remorse at Monte Beni. + “I dare to be so happy as you have seen me, only because I have felt the + time to be so brief.” + </p> + <p> + “One day, then!” pleaded Miriam. “One more day in the wild freedom of this + sweet-scented air.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, one more day,” said Donatello, smiling; and his smile touched + Kenyon with a pathos beyond words, there being gayety and sadness both + melted into it; “but here is Hilda’s friend, and our own. Comfort him, at + least, and set his heart at rest, since you have it partly in your power.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, surely he might endure his pangs a little longer!” cried Miriam, + turning to Kenyon with a tricksy, fitful kind of mirth, that served to + hide some solemn necessity, too sad and serious to be looked at in its + naked aspect. “You love us both, I think, and will be content to suffer + for our sakes, one other day. Do I ask too much?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me of Hilda,” replied the sculptor; “tell me only that she is safe, + and keep back what else you will.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda is safe,” said Miriam. “There is a Providence purposely for Hilda, + as I remember to have told you long ago. But a great trouble—an evil + deed, let us acknowledge it has spread out its dark branches so widely, + that the shadow falls on innocence as well as guilt. There was one slight + link that connected your sweet Hilda with a crime which it was her unhappy + fortune to witness, but of which I need not say she was as guiltless as + the angels that looked out of heaven, and saw it too. No matter, now, what + the consequence has been. You shall have your lost Hilda back, and—who + knows?—perhaps tenderer than she was.” + </p> + <p> + “But when will she return?” persisted the sculptor; “tell me the when, and + where, and how!” + </p> + <p> + “A little patience. Do not press me so,” said Miriam; and again Kenyon was + struck by the sprite-like, fitful characteristic of her manner, and a sort + of hysteric gayety, which seemed to be a will-o’-the-wisp from a sorrow + stagnant at her heart. “You have more time to spare than I. First, listen + to something that I have to tell. We will talk of Hilda by and by.” + </p> + <p> + Then Miriam spoke of her own life, and told facts that threw a gleam of + light over many things which had perplexed the sculptor in all his + previous knowledge of her. She described herself as springing from English + parentage, on the mother’s side, but with a vein, likewise, of Jewish + blood; yet connected, through her father, with one of those few princely + families of Southern Italy, which still retain great wealth and influence. + And she revealed a name at which her auditor started and grew pale; for it + was one that, only a few years before, had been familiar to the world in + connection with a mysterious and terrible event. The reader, if he think + it worth while to recall some of the strange incidents which have been + talked of, and forgotten, within no long time past, will remember Miriam’s + name. + </p> + <p> + “You shudder at me, I perceive,” said Miriam, suddenly interrupting her + narrative. + </p> + <p> + “No; you were innocent,” replied the sculptor. “I shudder at the fatality + that seems to haunt your footsteps, and throws a shadow of crime about + your path, you being guiltless.” + </p> + <p> + “There was such a fatality,” said Miriam; “yes; the shadow fell upon me, + innocent, but I went astray in it, and wandered—as Hilda could tell + you—into crime.” + </p> + <p> + She went on to say that, while yet a child, she had lost her English + mother. From a very early period of her life, there had been a contract of + betrothal between herself and a certain marchese, the representative of + another branch of her paternal house,—a family arrangement between + two persons of disproportioned ages, and in which feeling went for + nothing. Most Italian girls of noble rank would have yielded themselves to + such a marriage as an affair of course. But there was something in + Miriam’s blood, in her mixed race, in her recollections of her mother,—some + characteristic, finally, in her own nature,—which had given her + freedom of thought, and force of will, and made this prearranged + connection odious to her. Moreover, the character of her destined husband + would have been a sufficient and insuperable objection; for it betrayed + traits so evil, so treacherous, so vile, and yet so strangely subtle, as + could only be accounted for by the insanity which often develops itself in + old, close-kept races of men, when long unmixed with newer blood. Reaching + the age when the marriage contract should have been fulfilled, Miriam had + utterly repudiated it. + </p> + <p> + Some time afterwards had occurred that terrible event to which Miriam had + alluded when she revealed her name; an event, the frightful and mysterious + circumstances of which will recur to many minds, but of which few or none + can have found for themselves a satisfactory explanation. It only concerns + the present narrative, inasmuch as the suspicion of being at least an + accomplice in the crime fell darkly and directly upon Miriam herself. + </p> + <p> + “But you know that I am innocent!” she cried, interrupting herself again, + and looking Kenyon in the face. + </p> + <p> + “I know it by my deepest consciousness,” he answered; “and I know it by + Hilda’s trust and entire affection, which you never could have won had you + been capable of guilt.” + </p> + <p> + “That is sure ground, indeed, for pronouncing me innocent,” said Miriam, + with the tears gushing into her eyes. “Yet I have since become a horror to + your saint-like Hilda, by a crime which she herself saw me help to + perpetrate!” + </p> + <p> + She proceeded with her story. The great influence of her family + connections had shielded her from some of the consequences of her imputed + guilt. But, in her despair, she had fled from home, and had surrounded her + flight with such circumstances as rendered it the most probable conclusion + that she had committed suicide. Miriam, however, was not of the feeble + nature which takes advantage of that obvious and poor resource in earthly + difficulties. She flung herself upon the world, and speedily created a new + sphere, in which Hilda’s gentle purity, the sculptor’s sensibility, clear + thought, and genius, and Donatello’s genial simplicity had given her + almost her first experience of happiness. Then came that ill-omened + adventure of the catacomb, The spectral figure which she encountered there + was the evil fate that had haunted her through life. + </p> + <p> + Looking back upon what had happened, Miriam observed, she now considered + him a madman. Insanity must have been mixed up with his original + composition, and developed by those very acts of depravity which it + suggested, and still more intensified, by the remorse that ultimately + followed them. Nothing was stranger in his dark career than the penitence + which often seemed to go hand in hand with crime. Since his death she had + ascertained that it finally led him to a convent, where his severe and + self-inflicted penance had even acquired him the reputation of unusual + sanctity, and had been the cause of his enjoying greater freedom than is + commonly allowed to monks. + </p> + <p> + “Need I tell you more?” asked Miriam, after proceeding thus far. “It is + still a dim and dreary mystery, a gloomy twilight into which I guide you; + but possibly you may catch a glimpse of much that I myself can explain + only by conjecture. At all events, you can comprehend what my situation + must have been, after that fatal interview in the catacomb. My persecutor + had gone thither for penance, but followed me forth with fresh impulses to + crime. He had me in his power. Mad as he was, and wicked as he was, with + one word he could have blasted me in the belief of all the world. In your + belief too, and Hilda’s! Even Donatello would have shrunk from me with + horror!” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” said Donatello, “my instinct would have known you innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda and Donatello and myself,—we three would have acquitted you,” + said Kenyon, “let the world say what it might. Ah, Miriam, you should have + told us this sad story sooner!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought often of revealing it to you,” answered Miriam; “on one + occasion, especially,—it was after you had shown me your Cleopatra; + it seemed to leap out of my heart, and got as far as my very lips. But + finding you cold to accept my confidence, I thrust it back again. Had I + obeyed my first impulse, all would have turned out differently.” + </p> + <p> + “And Hilda!” resumed the sculptor. “What can have been her connection with + these dark incidents?” + </p> + <p> + “She will, doubtless, tell you with her own lips,” replied Miriam. + “Through sources of information which I possess in Rome, I can assure you + of her safety. In two days more—by the help of the special + Providence that, as I love to tell you, watches over Hilda—she shall + rejoin you.” + </p> + <p> + “Still two days more!” murmured the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are cruel now! More cruel than you know!” exclaimed Miriam, with + another gleam of that fantastic, fitful gayety, which had more than once + marked her manner during this interview. “Spare your poor friends!” + </p> + <p> + “I know not what you mean, Miriam,” said Kenyon. + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” she replied; “you will understand hereafter. But could you + think it? Here is Donatello haunted with strange remorse, and an + unmitigable resolve to obtain what he deems justice upon himself. He + fancies, with a kind of direct simplicity, which I have vainly tried to + combat, that, when a wrong has been done, the doer is bound to submit + himself to whatsoever tribunal takes cognizance of such things, and abide + its judgment. I have assured him that there is no such thing as earthly + justice, and especially none here, under the head of Christendom.” + </p> + <p> + “We will not argue the point again,” said Donatello, smiling. “I have no + head for argument, but only a sense, an impulse, an instinct, I believe, + which sometimes leads me right. But why do we talk now of what may make us + sorrowful? There are still two days more. Let us be happy!” + </p> + <p> + It appeared to Kenyon that since he last saw Donatello, some of the sweet + and delightful characteristics of the antique Faun had returned to him. + There were slight, careless graces, pleasant and simple peculiarities, + that had been obliterated by the heavy grief through which he was passing + at Monte Beni, and out of which he had hardly emerged when the sculptor + parted with Miriam and him beneath the bronze pontiffs outstretched hand. + These happy blossoms had now reappeared. A playfulness came out of his + heart, and glimmered like firelight in his actions, alternating, or even + closely intermingled, with profound sympathy and serious thought. + </p> + <p> + “Is he not beautiful?” said Miriam, watching the sculptor’s eye as it + dwelt admiringly on Donatello. “So changed, yet still, in a deeper sense, + so much the same! He has travelled in a circle, as all things heavenly and + earthly do, and now comes back to his original self, with an inestimable + treasure of improvement won from an experience of pain. How wonderful is + this! I tremble at my own thoughts, yet must needs probe them to their + depths. Was the crime—in which he and I were wedded—was it a + blessing, in that strange disguise? Was it a means of education, bringing + a simple and imperfect nature to a point of feeling and intelligence which + it could have reached under no other discipline?” + </p> + <p> + “You stir up deep and perilous matter, Miriam,” replied Kenyon. “I dare + not follow you into the unfathomable abysses whither you are tending.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet there is a pleasure in them! I delight to brood on the verge of this + great mystery,” returned she. “The story of the fall of man! Is it not + repeated in our romance of Monte Beni? And may we follow the analogy yet + further? Was that very sin,—into which Adam precipitated himself and + all his race, was it the destined means by which, over a long pathway of + toil and sorrow, we are to attain a higher, brighter, and profounder + happiness, than our lost birthright gave? Will not this idea account for + the permitted existence of sin, as no other theory can?” + </p> + <p> + “It is too dangerous, Miriam! I cannot follow you!” repeated the sculptor. + “Mortal man has no right to tread on the ground where you now set your + feet.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask Hilda what she thinks of it,” said Miriam, with a thoughtful smile. + “At least, she might conclude that sin—which man chose instead of + good—has been so beneficently handled by omniscience and + omnipotence, that, whereas our dark enemy sought to destroy us by it, it + has really become an instrument most effective in the education of + intellect and soul.” + </p> + <p> + Miriam paused a little longer among these meditations, which the sculptor + rightly felt to be so perilous; she then pressed his hand, in token of + farewell. + </p> + <p> + “The day after to-morrow,” said she, “an hour before sunset, go to the + Corso, and stand in front of the fifth house on your left, beyond the + Antonine column. You will learn tidings of a friend.” + </p> + <p> + Kenyon would have besought her for more definite intelligence, but she + shook her head, put her finger on her lips, and turned away with an + illusive smile. The fancy impressed him that she too, like Donatello, had + reached a wayside paradise, in their mysterious life journey, where they + both threw down the burden of the before and after, and, except for this + interview with himself, were happy in the flitting moment. To-day + Donatello was the sylvan Faun; to-day Miriam was his fit companion, a + Nymph of grove or fountain; to-morrow—a remorseful man and woman, + linked by a marriage bond of crime—they would set forth towards an + inevitable goal. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII + </h2> + <h3> + A SCENE IN THE CORSO + </h3> + <p> + On the appointed afternoon, Kenyon failed not to make his appearance in + the Corso, and at an hour much earlier than Miriam had named. + </p> + <p> + It was carnival time. The merriment of this famous festival was in full + progress; and the stately avenue of the Corso was peopled with hundreds of + fantastic shapes, some of which probably represented the mirth of ancient + times, surviving through all manner of calamity, ever since the days of + the Roman Empire. For a few afternoons of early spring, this mouldy gayety + strays into the sunshine; all the remainder of the year, it seems to be + shut up in the catacombs or some other sepulchral storehouse of the past. + </p> + <p> + Besides these hereditary forms, at which a hundred generations have + laughed, there were others of modern date, the humorous effluence of the + day that was now passing. It is a day, however, and an age, that appears + to be remarkably barren, when compared with the prolific originality of + former times, in productions of a scenic and ceremonial character, whether + grave or gay. To own the truth, the Carnival is alive, this present year, + only because it has existed through centuries gone by. It is traditionary, + not actual. If decrepit and melancholy Rome smiles, and laughs broadly, + indeed, at carnival time, it is not in the old simplicity of real mirth, + but with a half-conscious effort, like our self-deceptive pretence of + jollity at a threadbare joke. Whatever it may once have been, it is now + but a narrow stream of merriment, noisy of set purpose, running along the + middle of the Corso, through the solemn heart of the decayed city, without + extending its shallow influence on either side. Nor, even within its own + limits, does it affect the mass of spectators, but only a comparatively + few, in street and balcony, who carry on the warfare of nosegays and + counterfeit sugar plums. The populace look on with staid composure; the + nobility and priesthood take little or no part in the matter; and, but for + the hordes of Anglo-Saxons who annually take up the flagging mirth, the + Carnival might long ago have been swept away, with the snowdrifts of + confetti that whiten all the pavement. + </p> + <p> + No doubt, however, the worn-out festival is still new to the youthful and + light hearted, who make the worn-out world itself as fresh as Adam found + it on his first forenoon in Paradise. It may be only age and care that + chill the life out of its grotesque and airy riot, with the impertinence + of their cold criticism. + </p> + <p> + Kenyon, though young, had care enough within his breast to render the + Carnival the emptiest of mockeries. Contrasting the stern anxiety of his + present mood with the frolic spirit of the preceding year, he fancied that + so much trouble had, at all events, brought wisdom in its train. But there + is a wisdom that looks grave, and sneers at merriment; and again a deeper + wisdom, that stoops to be gay as often as occasion serves, and oftenest + avails itself of shallow and trifling grounds of mirth; because, if we + wait for more substantial ones, we seldom can be gay at all. Therefore, + had it been possible, Kenyon would have done well to mask himself in some + wild, hairy visage, and plunge into the throng of other maskers, as at the + Carnival before. Then Donatello had danced along the Corso in all the + equipment of a Faun, doing the part with wonderful felicity of execution, + and revealing furry ears, which looked absolutely real; and Miriam had + been alternately a lady of the antique regime, in powder and brocade, and + the prettiest peasant girl of the Campagna, in the gayest of costumes; + while Hilda, sitting demurely in a balcony, had hit the sculptor with a + single rosebud,—so sweet and fresh a bud that he knew at once whose + hand had flung it. + </p> + <p> + These were all gone; all those dear friends whose sympathetic mirth had + made him gay. Kenyon felt as if an interval of many years had passed since + the last Carnival. He had grown old, the nimble jollity was tame, and the + maskers dull and heavy; the Corso was but a narrow and shabby street of + decaying palaces; and even the long, blue streamer of Italian sky, above + it, not half so brightly blue as formerly. + </p> + <p> + Yet, if he could have beheld the scene with his clear, natural eyesight, + he might still have found both merriment and splendor in it. Everywhere, + and all day long, there had been tokens of the festival, in the baskets + brimming over with bouquets, for sale at the street corners, or borne + about on people’s heads; while bushels upon bushels of variously colored + confetti were displayed, looking just like veritable sugar plums; so that + a stranger would have imagined that the whole commerce and business of + stern old Rome lay in flowers and sweets. And now, in the sunny afternoon, + there could hardly be a spectacle more picturesque than the vista of that + noble street, stretching into the interminable distance between two rows + of lofty edifices, from every window of which, and many a balcony, + flaunted gay and gorgeous carpets, bright silks, scarlet cloths with rich + golden fringes, and Gobelin tapestry, still lustrous with varied hues, + though the product of antique looms. Each separate palace had put on a + gala dress, and looked festive for the occasion, whatever sad or guilty + secret it might hide within. Every window, moreover, was alive with the + faces of women, rosy girls, and children, all kindled into brisk and + mirthful expression, by the incidents in the street below. In the + balconies that projected along the palace fronts stood groups of ladies, + some beautiful, all richly dressed, scattering forth their laughter, + shrill, yet sweet, and the musical babble of their voices, to thicken into + an airy tumult over the heads of common mortals. + </p> + <p> + All these innumerable eyes looked down into the street, the whole capacity + of which was thronged with festal figures, in such fantastic variety that + it had taken centuries to contrive them; and through the midst of the mad, + merry stream of human life rolled slowly onward a never-ending procession + of all the vehicles in Rome, from the ducal carriage, with the powdered + coachman high in front, and the three golden lackeys clinging in the rear, + down to the rustic cart drawn by its single donkey. Among this various + crowd, at windows and in balconies, in cart, cab, barouche, or gorgeous + equipage, or bustling to and fro afoot, there was a sympathy of nonsense; + a true and genial brotherhood and sisterhood, based on the honest purpose—and + a wise one, too—of being foolish, all together. The sport of + mankind, like its deepest earnest, is a battle; so these festive people + fought one another with an ammunition of sugar plums and flowers. + </p> + <p> + Not that they were veritable sugar plums, however, but something that + resembled them only as the apples of Sodom look like better fruit. They + were concocted mostly of lime, with a grain of oat, or some other + worthless kernel, in the midst. Besides the hailstorm of confetti, the + combatants threw handfuls of flour or lime into the air, where it hung + like smoke over a battlefield, or, descending, whitened a black coat or + priestly robe, and made the curly locks of youth irreverently hoary. + </p> + <p> + At the same time with this acrid contest of quicklime, which caused much + effusion of tears from suffering eyes, a gentler warfare of flowers was + carried on, principally between knights and ladies. Originally, no doubt, + when this pretty custom was first instituted, it may have had a sincere + and modest import. Each youth and damsel, gathering bouquets of field + flowers, or the sweetest and fairest that grew in their own gardens, all + fresh and virgin blossoms, flung them with true aim at the one, or few, + whom they regarded with a sentiment of shy partiality at least, if not + with love. Often, the lover in the Corso may thus have received from his + bright mistress, in her father’s princely balcony, the first sweet + intimation that his passionate glances had not struck against a heart of + marble. What more appropriate mode of suggesting her tender secret could a + maiden find than by the soft hit of a rosebud against a young man’s cheek? + </p> + <p> + This was the pastime and the earnest of a more innocent and homelier age. + Nowadays the nosegays are gathered and tied up by sordid hands, chiefly of + the most ordinary flowers, and are sold along the Corso, at mean price, + yet more than such Venal things are worth. Buying a basketful, you find + them miserably wilted, as if they had flown hither and thither through two + or three carnival days already; muddy, too, having been fished up from the + pavement, where a hundred feet have trampled on them. You may see throngs + of men and boys who thrust themselves beneath the horses’ hoofs to gather + up bouquets that were aimed amiss from balcony and carriage; these they + sell again, and yet once more, and ten times over, defiled as they all are + with the wicked filth of Rome. + </p> + <p> + Such are the flowery favors—the fragrant bunches of sentiment—that + fly between cavalier and dame, and back again, from one end of the Corso + to the other. Perhaps they may symbolize, more aptly than was intended, + the poor, battered, wilted hearts of those who fling them; hearts which—crumpled + and crushed by former possessors, and stained with various mishap—have + been passed from hand to hand along the muddy street-way of life, instead + of being treasured in one faithful bosom. + </p> + <p> + These venal and polluted flowers, therefore, and those deceptive bonbons, + are types of the small reality that still subsists in the observance of + the Carnival. Yet the government seemed to imagine that there might be + excitement enough,—wild mirth, perchance, following its antics + beyond law, and frisking from frolic into earnest,—to render it + expedient to guard the Corso with an imposing show of military power. + Besides the ordinary force of gendarmes, a strong patrol of papal + dragoons, in steel helmets and white cloaks, were stationed at all the + street corners. Detachments of French infantry stood by their stacked + muskets in the Piazza del Popolo, at one extremity of the course, and + before the palace of the Austrian embassy, at the other, and by the column + of Antoninus, midway between. Had that chained tiger-cat, the Roman + populace, shown only so much as the tip of his claws, the sabres would + have been flashing and the bullets whistling, in right earnest, among the + combatants who now pelted one another with mock sugar plums and wilted + flowers. + </p> + <p> + But, to do the Roman people justice, they were restrained by a better + safeguard than the sabre or the bayonet; it was their own gentle courtesy, + which imparted a sort of sacredness to the hereditary festival. At first + sight of a spectacle so fantastic and extravagant, a cool observer might + have imagined the whole town gone mad; but, in the end, he would see that + all this apparently unbounded license is kept strictly within a limit of + its own; he would admire a people who can so freely let loose their + mirthful propensities, while muzzling those fiercer ones that tend to + mischief. Everybody seemed lawless; nobody was rude. If any reveller + overstepped the mark, it was sure to be no Roman, but an Englishman or an + American; and even the rougher play of this Gothic race was still softened + by the insensible influence of a moral atmosphere more delicate, in some + respects, than we breathe at home. Not that, after all, we like the fine + Italian spirit better than our own; popular rudeness is sometimes the + symptom of rude moral health. But, where a Carnival is in question, it + would probably pass off more decorously, as well as more airily and + delightfully, in Rome, than in any Anglo-Saxon city. + </p> + <p> + When Kenyon emerged from a side lane into the Corso, the mirth was at its + height. Out of the seclusion of his own feelings, he looked forth at the + tapestried and damask-curtained palaces, the slow-moving double line of + carriages, and the motley maskers that swarmed on foot, as if he were + gazing through the iron lattice of a prison window. So remote from the + scene were his sympathies, that it affected him like a thin dream, through + the dim, extravagant material of which he could discern more substantial + objects, while too much under its control to start forth broad awake. Just + at that moment, too, there came another spectacle, making its way right + through the masquerading throng. + </p> + <p> + It was, first and foremost, a full band of martial music, reverberating, + in that narrow and confined though stately avenue, between the walls of + the lofty palaces, and roaring upward to the sky with melody so powerful + that it almost grew to discord. Next came a body of cavalry and mounted + gendarmes, with great display of military pomp. They were escorting a long + train of equipages, each and all of which shone as gorgeously as + Cinderella’s coach, with paint and gilding. Like that, too, they were + provided with coachmen of mighty breadth, and enormously tall footmen, in + immense powdered wigs, and all the splendor of gold-laced, three cornered + hats, and embroidered silk coats and breeches. By the old-fashioned + magnificence of this procession, it might worthily have included his + Holiness in person, with a suite of attendant Cardinals, if those sacred + dignitaries would kindly have lent their aid to heighten the frolic of the + Carnival. But, for all its show of a martial escort, and its antique + splendor of costume, it was but a train of the municipal authorities of + Rome,—illusive shadows, every one, and among them a phantom, styled + the Roman Senator,—proceeding to the Capitol. + </p> + <p> + The riotous interchange of nosegays and confetti was partially suspended, + while the procession passed. One well-directed shot, however,—it was + a double handful of powdered lime, flung by an impious New Englander,—hit + the coachman of the Roman Senator full in the face, and hurt his dignity + amazingly. It appeared to be his opinion that the Republic was again + crumbling into ruin, and that the dust of it now filled his nostrils; + though, in fact, it would hardly be distinguished from the official powder + with which he was already plentifully bestrewn. + </p> + <p> + While the sculptor, with his dreamy eyes, was taking idle note of this + trifling circumstance, two figures passed before him, hand in hand. The + countenance of each was covered with an impenetrable black mask; but one + seemed a peasant of the Campagna; the other, a contadina in her holiday + costume. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX + </h2> + <h3> + A FROLIC OF THE CARNIVAL + </h3> + <p> + The crowd and confusion, just at that moment, hindered the sculptor from + pursuing these figures,—the peasant and contadina,—who, + indeed, were but two of a numerous tribe that thronged the Corso, in + similar costume. As soon as he could squeeze a passage, Kenyon tried to + follow in their footsteps, but quickly lost sight of them, and was thrown + off the track by stopping to examine various groups of masqueraders, in + which he fancied the objects of his search to be included. He found many a + sallow peasant or herdsman of the Campagna, in such a dress as Donatello + wore; many a contadina, too, brown, broad, and sturdy, in her finery of + scarlet, and decked out with gold or coral beads, a pair of heavy + earrings, a curiously wrought cameo or mosaic brooch, and a silver comb or + long stiletto among her glossy hair. But those shapes of grace and beauty + which he sought had vanished. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the procession of the Senator had passed, the merry-makers + resumed their antics with fresh spirit, and the artillery of bouquets and + sugar plums, suspended for a moment, began anew. The sculptor himself, + being probably the most anxious and unquiet spectator there, was + especially a mark for missiles from all quarters, and for the practical + jokes which the license of the Carnival permits. In fact, his sad and + contracted brow so ill accorded with the scene, that the revellers might + be pardoned for thus using him as the butt of their idle mirth, since he + evidently could not otherwise contribute to it. + </p> + <p> + Fantastic figures, with bulbous heads, the circumference of a bushel, + grinned enormously in his face. Harlequins struck him with their wooden + swords, and appeared to expect his immediate transformation into some + jollier shape. A little, long-tailed, horned fiend sidled up to him and + suddenly blew at him through a tube, enveloping our poor friend in a whole + harvest of winged seeds. A biped, with an ass’s snout, brayed close to his + ear, ending his discordant uproar with a peal of human laughter. Five + strapping damsels—so, at least, their petticoats bespoke them, in + spite of an awful freedom in the flourish of their legs—joined + hands, and danced around him, inviting him by their gestures to perform a + hornpipe in the midst. Released from these gay persecutors, a clown in + motley rapped him on the back with a blown bladder, in which a handful of + dried peas rattled horribly. + </p> + <p> + Unquestionably, a care-stricken mortal has no business abroad, when the + rest of mankind are at high carnival; they must either pelt him and + absolutely martyr him with jests, and finally bury him beneath the + aggregate heap; or else the potency of his darker mood, because the tissue + of human life takes a sad dye more readily than a gay one, will quell + their holiday humors, like the aspect of a death’s-head at a banquet. Only + that we know Kenyon’s errand, we could hardly forgive him for venturing + into the Corso with that troubled face. + </p> + <p> + Even yet, his merry martyrdom was not half over. There came along a + gigantic female figure, seven feet high, at least, and taking up a third + of the street’s breadth with the preposterously swelling sphere of her + crinoline skirts. Singling out the sculptor, she began to make a ponderous + assault upon his heart, throwing amorous glances at him out of her great + goggle eyes, offering him a vast bouquet of sunflowers and nettles, and + soliciting his pity by all sorts of pathetic and passionate dumb-show. Her + suit meeting no favor, the rejected Titaness made a gesture of despair and + rage; then suddenly drawing a huge pistol, she took aim right at the + obdurate sculptor’s breast, and pulled the trigger. The shot took effect, + for the abominable plaything went off by a spring, like a boy’s popgun, + covering Kenyon with a cloud of lime dust, under shelter of which the + revengeful damsel strode away. + </p> + <p> + Hereupon, a whole host of absurd figures surrounded him, pretending to + sympathize in his mishap. Clowns and party-colored harlequins; + orang-outangs; bear-headed, bull-headed, and dog-headed individuals; faces + that would have been human, but for their enormous noses; one terrific + creature, with a visage right in the centre of his breast; and all other + imaginable kinds of monstrosity and exaggeration. These apparitions + appeared to be investigating the case, after the fashion of a coroner’s + jury, poking their pasteboard countenances close to the sculptor’s with an + unchangeable grin, that gave still more ludicrous effect to the comic + alarm and sorrow of their gestures. Just then, a figure came by, in a gray + wig and rusty gown, with an inkhorn at his buttonhole and a pen behind his + ear; he announced himself as a notary, and offered to make the last will + and testament of the assassinated man. This solemn duty, however, was + interrupted by a surgeon, who brandished a lancet, three feet long, and + proposed to him to let him take blood. + </p> + <p> + The affair was so like a feverish dream, that Kenyon resigned himself to + let it take its course. Fortunately the humors of the Carnival pass from + one absurdity to another, without lingering long enough on any, to wear + out even the slightest of them. The passiveness of his demeanor afforded + too little scope for such broad merriment as the masqueraders sought. In a + few moments they vanished from him, as dreams and spectres do, leaving him + at liberty to pursue his quest, with no impediment except the crowd that + blocked up the footway. + </p> + <p> + He had not gone far when the peasant and the contadina met him. They were + still hand in hand, and appeared to be straying through the grotesque and + animated scene, taking as little part in it as himself. It might be + because he recognized them, and knew their solemn secret, that the + sculptor fancied a melancholy emotion to be expressed by the very movement + and attitudes of these two figures; and even the grasp of their hands, + uniting them so closely, seemed to set them in a sad remoteness from the + world at which they gazed. + </p> + <p> + “I rejoice to meet you,” said Kenyon. But they looked at him through the + eye-holes of their black masks, without answering a word. + </p> + <p> + “Pray give me a little light on the matter which I have so much at heart,” + said he; “if you know anything of Hilda, for Heaven’s sake, speak!” + </p> + <p> + Still they were silent; and the sculptor began to imagine that he must + have mistaken the identity of these figures, there being such a multitude + in similar costume. Yet there was no other Donatello, no other Miriam. He + felt, too, that spiritual certainty which impresses us with the presence + of our friends, apart from any testimony of the senses. + </p> + <p> + “You are unkind,” resumed he,—“knowing the anxiety which oppresses + me, —not to relieve it, if in your power.” + </p> + <p> + The reproach evidently had its effect; for the contadina now spoke, and it + was Miriam’s voice. + </p> + <p> + “We gave you all the light we could,” said she. “You are yourself unkind, + though you little think how much so, to come between us at this hour. + There may be a sacred hour, even in carnival time.” + </p> + <p> + In another state of mind, Kenyon could have been amused by the + impulsiveness of this response, and a sort of vivacity that he had often + noted in Miriam’s conversation. But he was conscious of a profound sadness + in her tone, overpowering its momentary irritation, and assuring him that + a pale, tear-stained face was hidden behind her mask. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me!” said he. + </p> + <p> + Donatello here extended his hand,—not that which was clasping + Miriam’s,—and she, too, put her free one into the sculptor’s left; + so that they were a linked circle of three, with many reminiscences and + forebodings flashing through their hearts. Kenyon knew intuitively that + these once familiar friends were parting with him now. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell!” they all three said, in the same breath. + </p> + <p> + No sooner was the word spoken, than they loosed their hands; and the + uproar of the Carnival swept like a tempestuous sea over the spot which + they had included within their small circle of isolated feeling. + </p> + <p> + By this interview, the sculptor had learned nothing in reference to Hilda; + but he understood that he was to adhere to the instructions already + received, and await a solution of the mystery in some mode that he could + not yet anticipate. Passing his hands over his eyes, and looking about + him,—for the event just described had made the scene even more + dreamlike than before,—he now found himself approaching that broad + piazza bordering on the Corso, which has for its central object the + sculptured column of Antoninus. It was not far from this vicinity that + Miriam had bid him wait. Struggling onward as fast as the tide of + merrymakers, setting strong against him, would permit, he was now beyond + the Palazzo Colonna, and began to count the houses. The fifth was a + palace, with a long front upon the Corso, and of stately height, but + somewhat grim with age. + </p> + <p> + Over its arched and pillared entrance there was a balcony, richly hung + with tapestry and damask, and tenanted, for the time, by a gentleman of + venerable aspect and a group of ladies. The white hair and whiskers of the + former, and the winter roses in his cheeks, had an English look; the + ladies, too, showed a fair-haired Saxon bloom, and seemed to taste the + mirth of the Carnival with the freshness of spectators to whom the scene + was new. All the party, the old gentleman with grave earnestness, as if he + were defending a rampart, and his young companions with exuberance of + frolic, showered confetti inexhaustibly upon the passers-by. + </p> + <p> + In the rear of the balcony, a broad-brimmed, ecclesiastical beaver was + visible. An abbate, probably an acquaintance and cicerone of the English + family, was sitting there, and enjoying the scene, though partially + withdrawn from view, as the decorum for his order dictated. + </p> + <p> + There seemed no better nor other course for Kenyon than to keep watch at + this appointed spot, waiting for whatever should happen next. Clasping his + arm round a lamp-post, to prevent being carried away by the turbulent + stream of wayfarers, he scrutinized every face, with the idea that some + one of them might meet his eyes with a glance of intelligence. He looked + at each mask,—harlequin, ape, bulbous-headed monster, or anything + that was absurdest,—not knowing but that the messenger might come, + even in such fantastic guise. Or perhaps one of those quaint figures, in + the stately ruff, the cloak, tunic, and trunk-hose of three centuries ago, + might bring him tidings of Hilda, out of that long-past age. At times his + disquietude took a hopeful aspect; and he fancied that Hilda might come + by, her own sweet self, in some shy disguise which the instinct Of his + love would be sure to penetrate. Or, she might be borne past on a + triumphal car, like the one just now approaching, its slow-moving wheels + encircled and spoked with foliage, and drawn by horses, that were + harnessed and wreathed with flowers. Being, at best, so far beyond the + bounds of reasonable conjecture, he might anticipate the wildest event, or + find either his hopes or fears disappointed in what appeared most + probable. + </p> + <p> + The old Englishman and his daughters, in the opposite balcony, must have + seen something unutterably absurd in the sculptor’s deportment, poring + into this whirlpool of nonsense so earnestly, in quest of what was to make + his life dark or bright. Earnest people, who try to get a reality out of + human existence, are necessarily absurd in the view of the revellers and + masqueraders. At all events, after a good deal of mirth at the expense of + his melancholy visage, the fair occupants of the balcony favored Kenyon + with a salvo of confetti, which came rattling about him like a hailstorm. + Looking up instinctively, he was surprised to see the abbate in the + background lean forward and give a courteous sign of recognition. + </p> + <p> + It was the same old priest with whom he had seen Hilda, at the + confessional; the same with whom he had talked of her disappearance on + meeting him in the street. + </p> + <p> + Yet, whatever might be the reason, Kenyon did not now associate this + ecclesiastical personage with the idea of Hilda. His eyes lighted on the + old man, just for an instant, and then returned to the eddying throng of + the Corso, on his minute scrutiny of which depended, for aught he knew, + the sole chance of ever finding any trace of her. There was, about this + moment, a bustle on the other side of the street, the cause of which + Kenyon did not see, nor exert himself to discover. A small party of + soldiers or gendarmes appeared to be concerned in it; they were perhaps + arresting some disorderly character, who, under the influence of an extra + flask of wine, might have reeled across the mystic limitation of carnival + proprieties. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor heard some people near him talking of the incident. + </p> + <p> + “That contadina, in a black mask, was a fine figure of a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “She was not amiss,” replied a female voice; “but her companion was far + the handsomer figure of the two. Could they be really a peasant and a + contadina, do you imagine?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said the other. “It is some frolic of the Carnival, carried a + little too far.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation might have excited Kenyon’s interest; only that, just as + the last words were spoken, he was hit by two missiles, both of a kind + that were flying abundantly on that gay battlefield. One, we are ashamed + to say, was a cauliflower, which, flung by a young man from a passing + carriage, came with a prodigious thump against his shoulder; the other was + a single rosebud, so fresh that it seemed that moment gathered. It flew + from the opposite balcony, smote gently on his lips, and fell into his + hand. He looked upward, and beheld the face of his lost Hilda! + </p> + <p> + She was dressed in a white domino, and looked pale and bewildered, and yet + full of tender joy. Moreover, there was a gleam of delicate mirthfulness + in her eyes, which the sculptor had seen there only two or three times in + the course of their acquaintance, but thought it the most bewitching and + fairylike of all Hilda’s expressions. That soft, mirthful smile caused her + to melt, as it were, into the wild frolic of the Carnival, and become not + so strange and alien to the scene, as her unexpected apparition must + otherwise have made her. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the venerable Englishman and his daughters were staring at poor + Hilda in a way that proved them altogether astonished, as well as + inexpressibly shocked, by her sudden intrusion into their private balcony. + They looked,—as, indeed, English people of respectability would, if + an angel were to alight in their circle, without due introduction from + somebody whom they knew, in the court above,—they looked as if an + unpardonable liberty had been taken, and a suitable apology must be made; + after which, the intruder would be expected to withdraw. + </p> + <p> + The abbate, however, drew the old gentleman aside, and whispered a few + words that served to mollify him; he bestowed on Hilda a sufficiently + benignant, though still a perplexed and questioning regard, and invited + her, in dumb-show, to put herself at her ease. + </p> + <p> + But, whoever was in fault, our shy and gentle Hilda had dreamed of no + intrusion. Whence she had come, or where she had been hidden, during this + mysterious interval, we can but imperfectly surmise, and do not mean, at + present, to make it a matter of formal explanation with the reader. It is + better, perhaps, to fancy that she had been snatched away to a land of + picture; that she had been straying with Claude in the golden light which + he used to shed over his landscapes, but which he could never have beheld + with his waking eyes till he awoke in the better clime. We will imagine + that, for the sake of the true simplicity with which she loved them, Hilda + had been permitted, for a season, to converse with the great, departed + masters of the pencil, and behold the diviner works which they have + painted in heavenly colors. Guido had shown her another portrait of + Beatrice Cenci, done from the celestial life, in which that forlorn + mystery of the earthly countenance was exchanged for a radiant joy. + Perugino had allowed her a glimpse at his easel, on which she discerned + what seemed a woman’s face, but so divine, by the very depth and softness + of its womanhood, that a gush of happy tears blinded the maiden’s eyes + before she had time to look. Raphael had taken Hilda by the hand, that + fine, forcible hand which Kenyon sculptured,—and drawn aside the + curtain of gold-fringed cloud that hung before his latest masterpiece. On + earth, Raphael painted the Transfiguration. What higher scene may he have + since depicted, not from imagination, but as revealed to his actual sight! + </p> + <p> + Neither will we retrace the steps by which she returned to the actual + world. For the present, be it enough to say that Hilda had been summoned + forth from a secret place, and led we know not through what mysterious + passages, to a point where the tumult of life burst suddenly upon her + ears. She heard the tramp of footsteps, the rattle of wheels, and the + mingled hum of a multitude of voices, with strains of music and loud + laughter breaking through. Emerging into a great, gloomy hall, a curtain + was drawn aside; she found herself gently propelled into an open balcony, + whence she looked out upon the festal street, with gay tapestries + flaunting over all the palace fronts, the windows thronged with merry + faces, and a crowd of maskers rioting upon the pavement below. + </p> + <p> + Immediately she seemed to become a portion of the scene. Her pale, + large-eyed, fragile beauty, her wondering aspect and bewildered grace, + attracted the gaze of many; and there fell around her a shower of bouquets + and bonbons—freshest blossoms and sweetest sugar plums, sweets to + the sweet—such as the revellers of the Carnival reserve as tributes + to especial loveliness. Hilda pressed her hand across her brow; she let + her eyelids fall, and, lifting them again, looked through the grotesque + and gorgeous show, the chaos of mad jollity, in quest of some object by + which she might assure herself that the whole spectacle was not an + illusion. + </p> + <p> + Beneath the balcony, she recognized a familiar and fondly remembered face. + The spirit of the hour and the scene exercised its influence over her + quick and sensitive nature; she caught up one of the rosebuds that had + been showered upon her, and aimed it at the sculptor; It hit the mark; he + turned his sad eyes upward, and there was Hilda, in whose gentle presence + his own secret sorrow and the obtrusive uproar of the Carnival alike died + away from his perception. + </p> + <p> + That night, the lamp beneath the Virgin’s shrine burned as brightly as if + it had never been extinguished; and though the one faithful dove had gone + to her melancholy perch, she greeted Hilda rapturously the next morning, + and summoned her less constant companions, whithersoever they had flown, + to renew their homage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L + </h2> + <h3> + MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + </h3> + <p> + The gentle reader, we trust, would not thank us for one of those minute + elucidations, which are so tedious, and, after all, so unsatisfactory, in + clearing up the romantic mysteries of a story. He is too wise to insist + upon looking closely at the wrong side of the tapestry, after the right + one has been sufficiently displayed to him, woven with the best of the + artist’s skill, and cunningly arranged with a view to the harmonious + exhibition of its colors. If any brilliant, or beautiful, or even + tolerable effect have been produced, this pattern of kindly readers will + accept it at its worth, without tearing its web apart, with the idle + purpose of discovering how the threads have been knit together; for the + sagacity by which he is distinguished will long ago have taught him that + any narrative of human action and adventure whether we call it history or + romance—is certain to be a fragile handiwork, more easily rent than + mended. The actual experience of even the most ordinary life is full of + events that never explain themselves, either as regards their origin or + their tendency. + </p> + <p> + It would be easy, from conversations which we have held with the sculptor, + to suggest a clew to the mystery of Hilda’s disappearance; although, as + long as she remained in Italy, there was a remarkable reserve in her + communications upon this subject, even to her most intimate friends. + Either a pledge of secrecy had been exacted, or a prudential motive warned + her not to reveal the stratagems of a religious body, or the secret acts + of a despotic government—whichever might be responsible in the + present instance—while still within the scope of their jurisdiction. + Possibly, she might not herself be fully aware what power had laid its + grasp upon her person. What has chiefly perplexed us, however, among + Hilda’s adventures, is the mode of her release, in which some inscrutable + tyranny or other seemed to take part in the frolic of the Carnival. We can + only account for it, by supposing that the fitful and fantastic + imagination of a woman—sportive, because she must otherwise be + desperate—had arranged this incident, and made it the condition of a + step which her conscience, or the conscience of another, required her to + take. + </p> + <p> + A few days after Hilda’s reappearance, she and the sculptor were straying + together through the streets of Rome. Being deep in talk, it so happened + that they found themselves near the majestic, pillared portico, and huge, + black rotundity of the Pantheon. It stands almost at the central point of + the labyrinthine intricacies of the modern city, and often presents itself + before the bewildered stranger, when he is in search of other objects. + Hilda, looking up, proposed that they should enter. + </p> + <p> + “I never pass it without going in,” she said, “to pay my homage at the + tomb of Raphael.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” said Kenyon, “without stopping to admire the noblest edifice + which the barbarism of the early ages, and the more barbarous pontiffs and + princes of later ones, have spared to us.” + </p> + <p> + They went in accordingly, and stood in the free space of that great + circle, around which are ranged the arched recesses and stately altars, + formerly dedicated to heathen gods, but Christianized through twelve + centuries gone by. The world has nothing else like the Pantheon. So grand + it is, that the pasteboard statues over the lofty cornice do not disturb + the effect, any more than the tin crowns and hearts, the dusty artificial + flowers, and all manner of trumpery gew-gaws, hanging at the saintly + shrines. The rust and dinginess that have dimmed the precious marble on + the walls; the pavement, with its great squares and rounds of porphyry and + granite, cracked crosswise and in a hundred directions, showing how + roughly the troublesome ages have trampled here; the gray dome above, with + its opening to the sky, as if heaven were looking down into the interior + of this place of worship, left unimpeded for prayers to ascend the more + freely; all these things make an impression of solemnity, which St. + Peter’s itself fails to produce. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said the sculptor, “it is to the aperture in the dome—that + great Eye, gazing heavenward that the Pantheon owes the peculiarity of its + effect. It is so heathenish, as it were,—so unlike all the snugness + of our modern civilization! Look, too, at the pavement, directly beneath + the open space! So much rain has fallen there, in the last two thousand + years, that it is green with small, fine moss, such as grows over + tombstones in a damp English churchyard.” + </p> + <p> + “I like better,” replied Hilda, “to look at the bright, blue sky, roofing + the edifice where the builders left it open. It is very delightful, in a + breezy day, to see the masses of white cloud float over the opening, and + then the sunshine fall through it again, fitfully, as it does now. Would + it be any wonder if we were to see angels hovering there, partly in and + partly out, with genial, heavenly faces, not intercepting the light, but + only transmuting it into beautiful colors? Look at that broad, golden beam—a + sloping cataract of sunlight—which comes down from the aperture and + rests upon the shrine, at the right hand of the entrance!” + </p> + <p> + “There is a dusky picture over that altar,” observed the sculptor. “Let us + go and see if this strong illumination brings out any merit in it.” + </p> + <p> + Approaching the shrine, they found the picture little worth looking at, + but could not forbear smiling, to see that a very plump and comfortable + tabby-cat—whom we ourselves have often observed haunting the + Pantheon—had established herself on the altar, in the genial + sunbeam, and was fast asleep among the holy tapers. Their footsteps + disturbing her, she awoke, raised herself, and sat blinking in the sun, + yet with a certain dignity and self-possession, as if conscious of + representing a saint. + </p> + <p> + “I presume,” remarked Kenyon, “that this is the first of the feline race + that has ever set herself up as an object of worship, in the Pantheon or + elsewhere, since the days of ancient Egypt. See; there is a peasant from + the neighboring market, actually kneeling to her! She seems a gracious and + benignant saint enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not make me laugh,” said Hilda reproachfully, “but help me to drive + the creature away. It distresses me to see that poor man, or any human + being, directing his prayers so much amiss.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Hilda,” answered the sculptor more seriously, “the only Place in + the Pantheon for you and me to kneel is on the pavement beneath the + central aperture. If we pray at a saint’s shrine, we shall give utterance + to earthly wishes; but if we pray face to face with the Deity, we shall + feel it impious to petition for aught that is narrow and selfish. Methinks + it is this that makes the Catholics so delight in the worship of saints; + they can bring up all their little worldly wants and whims, their + individualities and human weaknesses, not as things to be repented of, but + to be humored by the canonized humanity to which they pray. Indeed, it is + very tempting!” + </p> + <p> + What Hilda might have answered must be left to conjecture; for as she + turned from the shrine, her eyes were attracted to the figure of a female + penitent, kneeling on the pavement just beneath the great central eye, in + the very spot which Kenyon had designated as the only one whence prayers + should ascend. The upturned face was invisible, behind a veil or mask, + which formed a part of the garb. + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be!” whispered Hilda, with emotion. “No; it cannot be!” + </p> + <p> + “What disturbs you?” asked Kenyon. “Why do you tremble so?” + </p> + <p> + “If it were possible,” she replied, “I should fancy that kneeling figure + to be Miriam!” + </p> + <p> + “As you say, it is impossible,” rejoined the sculptor; “We know too well + what has befallen both her and Donatello.” “Yes; it is impossible!” + repeated Hilda. Her voice was still tremulous, however, and she seemed + unable to withdraw her attention from the kneeling figure. Suddenly, and + as if the idea of Miriam had opened the whole volume of Hilda’s + reminiscences, she put this question to the sculptor: “Was Donatello + really a Faun?” + </p> + <p> + “If you had ever studied the pedigree of the far-descended heir of Monte + Beni, as I did,” answered Kenyon, with an irrepressible smile, “you would + have retained few doubts on that point. Faun or not, he had a genial + nature, which, had the rest of mankind been in accordance with it, would + have made earth a paradise to our poor friend. It seems the moral of his + story, that human beings of Donatello’s character, compounded especially + for happiness, have no longer any business on earth, or elsewhere. Life + has grown so sadly serious, that such men must change their nature, or + else perish, like the antediluvian creatures that required, as the + condition of their existence, a more summer-like atmosphere than ours.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not accept your moral!” replied the hopeful and happy-natured + Hilda. + </p> + <p> + “Then here is another; take your choice!” said the sculptor, remembering + what Miriam had recently suggested, in reference to the same point. “He + perpetrated a great crime; and his remorse, gnawing into his soul, has + awakened it; developing a thousand high capabilities, moral and + intellectual, which we never should have dreamed of asking for, within the + scanty compass of the Donatello whom we knew.” + </p> + <p> + “I know not whether this is so,” said Hilda. “But what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Here comes my perplexity,” continued Kenyon. “Sin has educated Donatello, + and elevated him. Is sin, then,—which we deem such a dreadful + blackness in the universe,—is it, like sorrow, merely an element of + human education, through which we struggle to a higher and purer state + than we could otherwise have attained? Did Adam fall, that we might + ultimately rise to a far loftier paradise than his?” “O hush!” cried + Hilda, shrinking from him with an expression of horror which wounded the + poor, speculative sculptor to the soul. “This is terrible; and I could + weep for you, if you indeed believe it. Do not you perceive what a mockery + your creed makes, not only of all religious sentiments, but of moral law? + And how it annuls and obliterates whatever precepts of Heaven are written + deepest within us? You have shocked me beyond words!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Hilda!” exclaimed the sculptor, startled by her agitation; “I + never did believe it! But the mind wanders wild and wide; and, so lonely + as I live and work, I have neither pole-star above nor light of cottage + windows here below, to bring me home. Were you my guide, my counsellor, my + inmost friend, with that white wisdom which clothes you as a celestial + garment, all would go well. O Hilda, guide me home!” + </p> + <p> + “We are both lonely; both far from home!” said Hilda, her eyes filling + with tears. “I am a poor, weak girl, and have no such wisdom as you fancy + in me.” + </p> + <p> + What further may have passed between these lovers, while standing before + the pillared shrine, and the marble Madonna that marks Raphael’s tomb; + whither they had now wandered, we are unable to record. But when the + kneeling figure beneath the open eye of the Pantheon arose, she looked + towards the pair and extended her hands with a gesture of benediction. + Then they knew that it was Miriam. They suffered her to glide out of the + portal, however, without a greeting; for those extended hands, even while + they blessed, seemed to repel, as if Miriam stood on the other side of a + fathomless abyss, and warned them from its verge. + </p> + <p> + So Kenyon won the gentle Hilda’s shy affection, and her consent to be his + bride. Another hand must henceforth trim the lamp before the Virgin’s + shrine; for Hilda was coming down from her old tower, to be herself + enshrined and worshipped as a household saint, in the light of her + husband’s fireside. And, now that life had so much human promise in it, + they resolved to go back to their own land; because the years, after all, + have a kind of emptiness, when we spend too many of them on a foreign + shore. We defer the reality of life, in such cases, until a future moment, + when we shall again breathe our native air; but, by and by, there are no + future moments; or, if we do return, we find that the native air has lost + its invigorating quality, and that life has shifted its reality to the + spot where we have deemed ourselves only temporary residents. Thus, + between two countries, we have none at all, or only that little space of + either in which we finally lay down our discontented bones. It is wise, + therefore, to come back betimes, or never. + </p> + <p> + Before they quitted Rome, a bridal gift was laid on Hilda’s table. It was + a bracelet, evidently of great cost, being composed of seven ancient + Etruscan gems, dug out of seven sepulchres, and each one of them the + signet of some princely personage, who had lived an immemorial time ago. + Hilda remembered this precious ornament. It had been Miriam’s; and once, + with the exuberance of fancy that distinguished her, she had amused + herself with telling a mythical and magic legend for each gem, comprising + the imaginary adventures and catastrophe of its former wearer. Thus the + Etruscan bracelet became the connecting bond of a series of seven wondrous + tales, all of which, as they were dug out of seven sepulchres, were + characterized by a sevenfold sepulchral gloom; such as Miriam’s + imagination, shadowed by her own misfortunes, was wont to fling over its + most sportive flights. + </p> + <p> + And now, happy as Hilda was, the bracelet brought the tears into her eyes, + as being, in its entire circle, the symbol of as sad a mystery as any that + Miriam had attached to the separate gems. For, what was Miriam’s life to + be? And where was Donatello? But Hilda had a hopeful soul, and saw + sunlight on the mountain-tops. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCLUSION + </h2> + <p> + There comes to the author, from many readers of the foregoing pages, a + demand for further elucidations respecting the mysteries of the story. + </p> + <p> + He reluctantly avails himself of the opportunity afforded by a new + edition, to explain such incidents and passages as may have been left too + much in the dark; reluctantly, he repeats, because the necessity makes him + sensible that he can have succeeded but imperfectly, at best, in throwing + about this Romance the kind of atmosphere essential to the effect at which + he aimed. + </p> + <p> + He designed the story and the characters to bear, of course, a certain + relation to human nature and human life, but still to be so artfully and + airily removed from our mundane sphere, that some laws and proprieties of + their own should be implicitly and insensibly acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + The idea of the modern Faun, for example, loses all the poetry and beauty + which the Author fancied in it, and becomes nothing better than a + grotesque absurdity, if we bring it into the actual light of day. He had + hoped to mystify this anomalous creature between the Real and the + Fantastic, in such a manner that the reader’s sympathies might be excited + to a certain pleasurable degree, without impelling him to ask how Cuvier + would have classified poor Donatello, or to insist upon being told, in so + many words, whether he had furry ears or no. As respects all who ask such + questions, the book is, to that extent, a failure. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the Author fortunately has it in his power to throw light + upon several matters in which some of his readers appear to feel an + interest. To confess the truth, he was himself troubled with a curiosity + similar to that which he has just deprecated on the part of his readers, + and once took occasion to cross-examine his friends, Hilda and the + sculptor, and to pry into several dark recesses of the story, with which + they had heretofore imperfectly acquainted him. + </p> + <p> + We three had climbed to the top of St. Peter’s, and were looking down upon + the Rome we were soon to leave, but which (having already sinned + sufficiently in that way) it is not my purpose further to describe. It + occurred to me, that, being so remote in the upper air, my friends might + safely utter here the secrets which it would be perilous even to whisper + on lower earth. + </p> + <p> + “Hilda,” I began, “can you tell me the contents of that mysterious packet + which Miriam entrusted to your charge, and which was addressed to Signore + Luca Barboni, at the Palazzo Cenci?” + </p> + <p> + “I never had any further knowledge of it,” replied Hilda, “nor felt it + right to let myself be curious upon the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “As to its precise contents,” interposed Kenyon, “it is impossible to + speak. But Miriam, isolated as she seemed, had family connections in Rome, + one of whom, there is reason to believe, occupied a position in the papal + government. + </p> + <p> + “This Signore Luca Barboni was either the assumed name of the personage in + question, or the medium of communication between that individual and + Miriam. Now, under such a government as that of Rome, it is obvious that + Miriam’s privacy and isolated life could only be maintained through the + connivance and support of some influential person connected with the + administration of affairs. Free and self-controlled as she appeared, her + every movement was watched and investigated far more thoroughly by the + priestly rulers than by her dearest friends. + </p> + <p> + “Miriam, if I mistake not, had a purpose to withdraw herself from this + irksome scrutiny, and to seek real obscurity in another land; and the + packet, to be delivered long after her departure, contained a reference to + this design, besides certain family documents, which were to be imparted + to her relative as from one dead and gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is clear as a London fog,” I remarked. “On this head no further + elucidation can be desired. But when Hilda went quietly to deliver the + packet, why did she so mysteriously vanish?” + </p> + <p> + “You must recollect,” replied Kenyon, with a glance of friendly + commiseration at my obtuseness, “that Miriam had utterly disappeared, + leaving no trace by which her whereabouts could be known. In the meantime, + the municipal authorities had become aware of the murder of the Capuchin; + and from many preceding circumstances, such as his persecution of Miriam, + they must have seen an obvious connection between herself and that + tragical event. Furthermore, there is reason to believe that Miriam was + suspected of connection with some plot, or political intrigue, of which + there may have been tokens in the packet. And when Hilda appeared as the + bearer of this missive, it was really quite a matter of course, under a + despotic government, that she should be detained.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, quite a matter of course, as you say,” answered I. “How excessively + stupid in me not to have seen it sooner! But there are other riddles. On + the night of the extinction of the lamp, you met Donatello, in a + penitent’s garb, and afterwards saw and spoke to Miriam, in a coach, with + a gem glowing on her bosom. What was the business of these two guilty ones + in Rome, and who was Miriam’s companion?” + </p> + <p> + “Who!” repeated Kenyon, “why, her official relative, to be sure; and as to + their business, Donatello’s still gnawing remorse had brought him + hitherward, in spite of Miriam’s entreaties, and kept him lingering in the + neighborhood of Rome, with the ultimate purpose of delivering himself up + to justice. Hilda’s disappearance, which took place the day before, was + known to them through a secret channel, and had brought them into the + city, where Miriam, as I surmise, began to make arrangements, even then, + for that sad frolic of the Carnival.” + </p> + <p> + “And where was Hilda all that dreary time between?” inquired I. + </p> + <p> + “Where were you, Hilda?” asked Kenyon, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Hilda threw her eyes on all sides, and seeing that there was not even a + bird of the air to fly away with the secret, nor any human being nearer + than the loiterers by the obelisk in the piazza below, she told us about + her mysterious abode. + </p> + <p> + “I was a prisoner in the Convent of the Sacre Coeur, in the Trinita de + Monte,” said she, “but in such kindly custody of pious maidens, and + watched over by such a dear old priest, that—had it not been for one + or two disturbing recollections, and also because I am a daughter of the + Puritans I could willingly have dwelt there forever. + </p> + <p> + “My entanglement with Miriam’s misfortunes, and the good abbate’s mistaken + hope of a proselyte, seem to me a sufficient clew to the whole mystery.” + </p> + <p> + “The atmosphere is getting delightfully lucid,” observed I, “but there are + one or two things that still puzzle me. Could you tell me—and it + shall be kept a profound secret, I assure you what were Miriam’s real name + and rank, and precisely the nature of the troubles that led to all those + direful consequences?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that you need an answer to those questions?” exclaimed + Kenyon, with an aspect of vast surprise. “Have you not even surmised + Miriam’s name? Think awhile, and you will assuredly remember it. If not, I + congratulate you most sincerely; for it indicates that your feelings have + never been harrowed by one of the most dreadful and mysterious events that + have occurred within the present century!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” resumed I, after an interval of deep consideration, “I have but + few things more to ask. Where, at this moment, is Donatello?” + </p> + <p> + “The Castle of Saint Angelo,” said Kenyon sadly, turning his face towards + that sepulchral fortress, “is no longer a prison; but there are others + which have dungeons as deep, and in one of them, I fear, lies our poor + Faun.” + </p> + <p> + “And why, then, is Miriam at large?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Call it cruelty if you like, not mercy,” answered Kenyon. “But, after + all, her crime lay merely in a glance. She did no murder!” + </p> + <p> + “Only one question more,” said I, with intense earnestness. “Did + Donatello’s ears resemble those of the Faun of Praxiteles?” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but may not tell,” replied Kenyon, smiling mysteriously. “On that + point, at all events, there shall be not one word of explanation.” + </p> + <p> + Leamington, March 14, 1860. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Marble Faun, Volume II., by Nathaniel Hawthorne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARBLE FAUN, VOLUME II. *** + +***** This file should be named 2182-h.htm or 2182-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/8/2182/ + +Produced by Michael Pullen and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Marble Faun, Volume II. + The Romance of Monte Beni + +Author: Nathaniel Hawthorne + +Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #2182] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARBLE FAUN, VOLUME II. *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Pullen and David Widger + + + + + +THE MARBLE FAUN, + +or The Romance of Monte Beni + +BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE + + +Volume II. + +In Two Volumes + + + + +Contents: + + Volume I + + I MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + II THE FAUN + III SUBTERRANEAN REMINISCENCES + IV THE SPECTRE OF THE CATACOMB + V MIRIAM'S STUDIO + VI THE VIRGIN'S SHRINE + VII BEATRICE + VIII THE SUBURBAN VILLA + IX THE FAUN AND NYMPH + X THE SYLVAN DANCE + XI FRAGMENTARY SENTENCES + XII A STROLL ON THE PINCIAN + XIII A SCULPTOR'S STUDIO + XIV CLEOPATRA + XV AN AESTHETIC COMPANY + XVI A MOONLIGHT RAMBLE + XVII MIRIAM'S TROUBLE + XVIII ON THE EDGE OF A PRECIPICE + XIX THE FAUN'S TRANSFORMATION + XX THE BURIAL CHANT + XXI THE DEAD CAPUCHIN + XXII THE MEDICI GARDENS + XXIII MIRIAM AND HILDA + + + Volume II + + XXIV THE TOWER AMONG THE APENNINES + XXV SUNSHINE + XXVI THE PEDIGREE OF MONTE BENI + XXVII MYTHS + XXVIII THE OWL TOWER + XXIX ON THE BATTLEMENTS + XXX DONATELLO'S BUST + XXXI THE MARBLE SALOON + XXXII SCENES BY THE WAY + XXXIII PICTURED WINDOWS + XXXIV MARKET-DAY IN PERUGIA + XXXV THE BRONZE PONTIFF'S BENEDICTION + XXXVI HILDA'S TOWER + XXXVII THE EMPTINESS OF PICTURE GALLERIES + XXXVIII ALTARS AND INCENSE + XXXIX THE WORLD'S CATHEDRAL + XL HILDA AND A FRIEND + XLI SNOWDROPS AND MAIDENLY DELIGHTS + XLII REMINISCENCES OF MIRIAM + XLIII THE EXTINCTION OF A LAMP + XLIV THE DESERTED SHRINE + XLV THE FLIGHT OF HILDA'S DOVES + XLVI A WALK ON THE CAMPAGNA + XLVII THE PEASANT AND CONTADINA + XLVIII A SCENE IN THE CORSO + XLIX A FROLIC OF THE CARNIVAL + L MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + + + + +THE MARBLE FAUN + +Volume II + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +THE TOWER AMONG THE APENNINES + + +It was in June that the sculptor, Kenyon, arrived on horseback at the +gate of an ancient country house (which, from some of its features, +might almost be called a castle) situated in a part of Tuscany somewhat +remote from the ordinary track of tourists. Thither we must now +accompany him, and endeavor to make our story flow onward, like a +streamlet, past a gray tower that rises on the hillside, overlooking a +spacious valley, which is set in the grand framework of the Apennines. + +The sculptor had left Rome with the retreating tide of foreign +residents. For, as summer approaches, the Niobe of Nations is made to +bewail anew, and doubtless with sincerity, the loss of that large +part of her population which she derives from other lands, and on whom +depends much of whatever remnant of prosperity she still enjoys. Rome, +at this season, is pervaded and overhung with atmospheric terrors, and +insulated within a charmed and deadly circle. The crowd of wandering +tourists betake themselves to Switzerland, to the Rhine, or, from this +central home of the world, to their native homes in England or America, +which they are apt thenceforward to look upon as provincial, after +once having yielded to the spell of the Eternal City. The artist, who +contemplates an indefinite succession of winters in this home of art +(though his first thought was merely to improve himself by a brief +visit), goes forth, in the summer time, to sketch scenery and costume +among the Tuscan hills, and pour, if he can, the purple air of Italy +over his canvas. He studies the old schools of art in the mountain towns +where they were born, and where they are still to be seen in the faded +frescos of Giotto and Cimabue, on the walls of many a church, or in +the dark chapels, in which the sacristan draws aside the veil from a +treasured picture of Perugino. Thence, the happy painter goes to walk +the long, bright galleries of Florence, or to steal glowing colors from +the miraculous works, which he finds in a score of Venetian palaces. +Such summers as these, spent amid whatever is exquisite in art, or wild +and picturesque in nature, may not inadequately repay him for the chill +neglect and disappointment through which he has probably languished, in +his Roman winter. This sunny, shadowy, breezy, wandering life, in which +he seeks for beauty as his treasure, and gathers for his winter's honey +what is but a passing fragrance to all other men, is worth living for, +come afterwards what may. Even if he die unrecognized, the artist has +had his share of enjoyment and success. + +Kenyon had seen, at a distance of many miles, the old villa or castle +towards which his journey lay, looking from its height over a broad +expanse of valley. As he drew nearer, however, it had been hidden among +the inequalities of the hillside, until the winding road brought him +almost to the iron gateway. The sculptor found this substantial barrier +fastened with lock and bolt. There was no bell, nor other instrument +of sound; and, after summoning the invisible garrison with his voice, +instead of a trumpet, he had leisure to take a glance at the exterior of +the fortress. + +About thirty yards within the gateway rose a square tower, lofty +enough to be a very prominent object in the landscape, and more than +sufficiently massive in proportion to its height. Its antiquity was +evidently such that, in a climate of more abundant moisture, the ivy +would have mantled it from head to foot in a garment that might, by this +time, have been centuries old, though ever new. In the dry Italian air, +however, Nature had only so far adopted this old pile of stonework as to +cover almost every hand's-breadth of it with close-clinging lichens +and yellow moss; and the immemorial growth of these kindly productions +rendered the general hue of the tower soft and venerable, and took away +the aspect of nakedness which would have made its age drearier than now. + +Up and down the height of the tower were scattered three or four +windows, the lower ones grated with iron bars, the upper ones vacant +both of window frames and glass. Besides these larger openings, there +were several loopholes and little square apertures, which might be +supposed to light the staircase, that doubtless climbed the +interior towards the battlemented and machicolated summit. With this +last-mentioned warlike garniture upon its stern old head and brow, +the tower seemed evidently a stronghold of times long past. Many a +crossbowman had shot his shafts from those windows and loop-holes, and +from the vantage height of those gray battlements; many a flight of +arrows, too, had hit all round about the embrasures above, or the +apertures below, where the helmet of a defender had momentarily +glimmered. On festal nights, moreover, a hundred lamps had often gleamed +afar over the valley, suspended from the iron hooks that were ranged for +the purpose beneath the battlements and every window. + +Connected with the tower, and extending behind it, there seemed to be +a very spacious residence, chiefly of more modern date. It perhaps owed +much of its fresher appearance, however, to a coat of stucco and +yellow wash, which is a sort of renovation very much in vogue with the +Italians. Kenyon noticed over a doorway, in the portion of the edifice +immediately adjacent to the tower, a cross, which, with a bell suspended +above the roof, indicated that this was a consecrated precinct, and the +chapel of the mansion. + +Meanwhile, the hot sun so incommoded the unsheltered traveller, that he +shouted forth another impatient summons. Happening, at the same moment, +to look upward, he saw a figure leaning from an embrasure of the +battlements, and gazing down at him. + +"Ho, Signore Count!" cried the sculptor, waving his straw hat, for he +recognized the face, after a moment's doubt. "This is a warm reception, +truly! Pray bid your porter let me in, before the sun shrivels me quite +into a cinder." + +"I will come myself," responded Donatello, flinging down his voice out +of the clouds, as it were; "old Tomaso and old Stella are both asleep, +no doubt, and the rest of the people are in the vineyard. But I have +expected you, and you are welcome!" + +The young Count--as perhaps we had better designate him in his ancestral +tower--vanished from the battlements; and Kenyon saw his figure +appear successively at each of the windows, as he descended. On every +reappearance, he turned his face towards the sculptor and gave a nod and +smile; for a kindly impulse prompted him thus to assure his visitor of a +welcome, after keeping him so long at an inhospitable threshold. + +Kenyon, however (naturally and professionally expert at reading the +expression of the human countenance), had a vague sense that this was +not the young friend whom he had known so familiarly in Rome; not the +sylvan and untutored youth, whom Miriam, Hilda, and himself had liked, +laughed at, and sported with; not the Donatello whose identity they had +so playfully mixed up with that of the Faun of Praxiteles. + +Finally, when his host had emerged from a side portal of the mansion, +and approached the gateway, the traveller still felt that there was +something lost, or something gained (he hardly knew which), that set the +Donatello of to-day irreconcilably at odds with him of yesterday. His +very gait showed it, in a certain gravity, a weight and measure of step, +that had nothing in common with the irregular buoyancy which used to +distinguish him. His face was paler and thinner, and the lips less full +and less apart. + +"I have looked for you a long while," said Donatello; and, though his +voice sounded differently, and cut out its words more sharply than had +been its wont, still there was a smile shining on his face, that, for +the moment, quite brought back the Faun. "I shall be more cheerful, +perhaps, now that you have come. It is very solitary here." + +"I have come slowly along, often lingering, often turning aside," +replied Kenyon; "for I found a great deal to interest me in the +mediaeval sculpture hidden away in the churches hereabouts. An artist, +whether painter or sculptor, may be pardoned for loitering through such +a region. But what a fine old tower! Its tall front is like a page of +black letter, taken from the history of the Italian republics." + +"I know little or nothing of its history," said the Count, glancing +upward at the battlements, where he had just been standing. "But I thank +my forefathers for building it so high. I like the windy summit better +than the world below, and spend much of my time there, nowadays." + +"It is a pity you are not a star-gazer," observed Kenyon, also looking +up. "It is higher than Galileo's tower, which I saw, a week or two ago, +outside of the walls of Florence." + +"A star-gazer? I am one," replied Donatello. "I sleep in the tower, +and often watch very late on the battlements. There is a dismal old +staircase to climb, however, before reaching the top, and a succession +of dismal chambers, from story to story. Some of them were prison +chambers in times past, as old Tomaso will tell you." + +The repugnance intimated in his tone at the idea of this gloomy +staircase and these ghostly, dimly lighted rooms, reminded Kenyon of the +original Donatello, much more than his present custom of midnight vigils +on the battlements. + +"I shall be glad to share your watch," said the guest; "especially by +moonlight. The prospect of this broad valley must be very fine. But I +was not aware, my friend, that these were your country habits. I have +fancied you in a sort of Arcadian life, tasting rich figs, and squeezing +the juice out of the sunniest grapes, and sleeping soundly all night, +after a day of simple pleasures." + +"I may have known such a life, when I was younger," answered the Count +gravely. "I am not a boy now. Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow +behind." + +The sculptor could not but smile at the triteness of the remark, which, +nevertheless, had a kind of originality as coming from Donatello. He had +thought it out from his own experience, and perhaps considered himself +as communicating a new truth to mankind. + +They were now advancing up the courtyard; and the long extent of the +villa, with its iron-barred lower windows and balconied upper ones, +became visible, stretching back towards a grove of trees. + +"At some period of your family history," observed Kenyon, "the Counts +of Monte Beni must have led a patriarchal life in this vast house. A +great-grandsire and all his descendants might find ample verge here, and +with space, too, for each separate brood of little ones to play within +its own precincts. Is your present household a large one?" + +"Only myself," answered Donatello, "and Tomaso, who has been butler +since my grandfather's time, and old Stella, who goes sweeping and +dusting about the chambers, and Girolamo, the cook, who has but an idle +life of it. He shall send you up a chicken forthwith. But, first of all, +I must summon one of the contadini from the farmhouse yonder, to take +your horse to the stable." + +Accordingly, the young Count shouted again, and with such effect that, +after several repetitions of the outcry, an old gray woman protruded +her head and a broom-handle from a chamber window; the venerable butler +emerged from a recess in the side of the house, where was a well, or +reservoir, in which he had been cleansing a small wine cask; and +a sunburnt contadino, in his shirt-sleeves, showed himself on the +outskirts of the vineyard, with some kind of a farming tool in his +hand. Donatello found employment for all these retainers in providing +accommodation for his guest and steed, and then ushered the sculptor +into the vestibule of the house. + +It was a square and lofty entrance-room, which, by the solidity of its +construction, might have been an Etruscan tomb, being paved and walled +with heavy blocks of stone, and vaulted almost as massively overhead. +On two sides there were doors, opening into long suites of anterooms +and saloons; on the third side, a stone staircase of spacious breadth, +ascending, by dignified degrees and with wide resting-places, to another +floor of similar extent. Through one of the doors, which was ajar, +Kenyon beheld an almost interminable vista of apartments, opening one +beyond the other, and reminding him of the hundred rooms in Blue Beard's +castle, or the countless halls in some palace of the Arabian Nights. + +It must have been a numerous family, indeed, that could ever have +sufficed to people with human life so large an abode as this, and impart +social warmth to such a wide world within doors. The sculptor confessed +to himself, that Donatello could allege reason enough for growing +melancholy, having only his own personality to vivify it all. + +"How a woman's face would brighten it up!" he ejaculated, not intending +to be overheard. + +But, glancing at Donatello, he saw a stern and sorrowful look in his +eyes, which altered his youthful face as if it had seen thirty years of +trouble; and, at the same moment, old Stella showed herself through one +of the doorways, as the only representative of her sex at Monte Beni. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +SUNSHINE + + +"Come," said the Count, "I see you already find the old house dismal. +So do I, indeed! And yet it was a cheerful place in my boyhood. But, you +see, in my father's days (and the same was true of all my endless line +of grandfathers, as I have heard), there used to be uncles, aunts, and +all manner of kindred, dwelling together as one family. They were +a merry and kindly race of people, for the most part, and kept one +another's hearts warm." + +"Two hearts might be enough for warmth," observed the sculptor, "even in +so large a house as this. One solitary heart, it is true, may be apt to +shiver a little. But, I trust, my friend, that the genial blood of your +race still flows in many veins besides your own?" + +"I am the last," said Donatello gloomily. "They have all vanished from +me, since my childhood. Old Tomaso will tell you that the air of Monte +Beni is not so favorable to length of days as it used to be. But that is +not the secret of the quick extinction of my kindred." + +"Then you are aware of a more satisfactory reason?" suggested Kenyon. + +"I thought of one, the other night, while I was gazing at the stars," +answered Donatello; "but, pardon me, I do not mean to tell it. One +cause, however, of the longer and healthier life of my forefathers was, +that they had many pleasant customs, and means of making themselves +glad, and their guests and friends along with them. Nowadays we have but +one!" + +"And what is that?" asked the sculptor. + +"You shall see!" said his young host. + +By this time, he had ushered the sculptor into one of the numberless +saloons; and, calling for refreshment, old Stella placed a cold fowl +upon the table, and quickly followed it with a savory omelet, which +Girolamo had lost no time in preparing. She also brought some cherries, +plums, and apricots, and a plate full of particularly delicate figs, of +last year's growth. The butler showing his white head at the door, his +master beckoned to him. "Tomaso, bring some Sunshine!" said he. The +readiest method of obeying this order, one might suppose, would have +been to fling wide the green window-blinds, and let the glow of the +summer noon into the carefully shaded room. But, at Monte Beni, with +provident caution against the wintry days, when there is little +sunshine, and the rainy ones, when there is none, it was the hereditary +custom to keep their Sunshine stored away in the cellar. Old Tomaso +quickly produced some of it in a small, straw-covered flask, out of +which he extracted the cork, and inserted a little cotton wool, to +absorb the olive oil that kept the precious liquid from the air. + +"This is a wine," observed the Count, "the secret of making which has +been kept in our family for centuries upon centuries; nor would it avail +any man to steal the secret, unless he could also steal the vineyard, in +which alone the Monte Beni grape can be produced. There is little else +left me, save that patch of vines. Taste some of their juice, and tell +me whether it is worthy to be called Sunshine! for that is its name." +"A glorious name, too!" cried the sculptor. "Taste it," said Donatello, +filling his friend's glass, and pouring likewise a little into his own. +"But first smell its fragrance; for the wine is very lavish of it, and +will scatter it all abroad." + +"Ah, how exquisite!" said Kenyon. "No other wine has a bouquet like +this. The flavor must be rare, indeed, if it fulfill the promise of this +fragrance, which is like the airy sweetness of youthful hopes, that no +realities will ever satisfy!" + +This invaluable liquor was of a pale golden hue, like other of the +rarest Italian wines, and, if carelessly and irreligiously quaffed, +might have been mistaken for a very fine sort of champagne. It was not, +however, an effervescing wine, although its delicate piquancy produced +a somewhat similar effect upon the palate. Sipping, the guest longed +to sip again; but the wine demanded so deliberate a pause, in order to +detect the hidden peculiarities and subtile exquisiteness of its flavor, +that to drink it was really more a moral than a physical enjoyment. +There was a deliciousness in it that eluded analysis, and--like whatever +else is superlatively good--was perhaps better appreciated in the memory +than by present consciousness. + +One of its most ethereal charms lay in the transitory life of the wine's +richest qualities; for, while it required a certain leisure and delay, +yet, if you lingered too long upon the draught, it became disenchanted +both of its fragrance and its flavor. + +The lustre should not be forgotten, among the other admirable endowments +of the Monte Beni wine; for, as it stood in Kenyon's glass, a little +circle of light glowed on the table round about it, as if it were really +so much golden sunshine. + +"I feel myself a better man for that ethereal potation," observed the +sculptor. "The finest Orvieto, or that famous wine, the Est Est Est of +Montefiascone, is vulgar in comparison. This is surely the wine of the +Golden Age, such as Bacchus himself first taught mankind to press from +the choicest of his grapes. My dear Count, why is it not illustrious? +The pale, liquid gold, in every such flask as that, might be solidified +into golden scudi, and would quickly make you a millionaire!" + +Tomaso, the old butler, who was standing by the table, and enjoying +the praises of the wine quite as much as if bestowed upon himself, made +answer,--"We have a tradition, Signore," said he, "that this rare wine +of our vineyard would lose all its wonderful qualities, if any of it +were sent to market. The Counts of Monte Beni have never parted with a +single flask of it for gold. At their banquets, in the olden time, they +have entertained princes, cardinals, and once an emperor and once a +pope, with this delicious wine, and always, even to this day, it has +been their custom to let it flow freely, when those whom they love and +honor sit at the board. But the grand duke himself could not drink that +wine, except it were under this very roof!" + +"What you tell me, my good friend," replied Kenyon, "makes me venerate +the Sunshine of Monte Beni even more abundantly than before. As I +understand you, it is a sort of consecrated juice, and symbolizes the +holy virtues of hospitality and social kindness?" + +"Why, partly so, Signore," said the old butler, with a shrewd twinkle +in his eye; "but, to speak out all the truth, there is another excellent +reason why neither a cask nor a flask of our precious vintage should +ever be sent to market. The wine, Signore, is so fond of its native +home, that a transportation of even a few miles turns it quite sour. And +yet it is a wine that keeps well in the cellar, underneath this floor, +and gathers fragrance, flavor, and brightness, in its dark dungeon. That +very flask of Sunshine, now, has kept itself for you, sir guest (as a +maid reserves her sweetness till her lover comes for it), ever since a +merry vintage-time, when the Signore Count here was a boy!" + +"You must not wait for Tomaso to end his discourse about the wine, +before drinking off your glass," observed Donatello. "When once the +flask is uncorked, its finest qualities lose little time in making their +escape. I doubt whether your last sip will be quite so delicious as you +found the first." + +And, in truth, the sculptor fancied that the Sunshine became almost +imperceptibly clouded, as he approached the bottom of the flask. The +effect of the wine, however, was a gentle exhilaration, which did not so +speedily pass away. + +Being thus refreshed, Kenyon looked around him at the antique saloon +in which they sat. It was constructed in a most ponderous style, with +a stone floor, on which heavy pilasters were planted against the wall, +supporting arches that crossed one another in the vaulted ceiling. The +upright walls, as well as the compartments of the roof, were completely +Covered with frescos, which doubtless had been brilliant when first +executed, and perhaps for generations afterwards. The designs were of +a festive and joyous character, representing Arcadian scenes, where +nymphs, fauns, and satyrs disported themselves among mortal youths and +maidens; and Pan, and the god of wine, and he of sunshine and music, +disdained not to brighten some sylvan merry-making with the scarcely +veiled glory of their presence. A wreath of dancing figures, in +admirable variety of shape and motion, was festooned quite round the +cornice of the room. + +In its first splendor, the saloon must have presented an aspect both +gorgeous and enlivening; for it invested some of the cheerfullest ideas +and emotions of which the human mind is susceptible with the external +reality of beautiful form, and rich, harmonious glow and variety of +color. But the frescos were now very ancient. They had been rubbed and +scrubbed by old Stein and many a predecessor, and had been defaced in +one spot, and retouched in another, and had peeled from the wall in +patches, and had hidden some of their brightest portions under dreary +dust, till the joyousness had quite vanished out of them all. It was +often difficult to puzzle out the design; and even where it was more +readily intelligible, the figures showed like the ghosts of dead and +buried joys,--the closer their resemblance to the happy past, the +gloomier now. For it is thus, that with only an inconsiderable change, +the gladdest objects and existences become the saddest; hope fading +into disappointment; joy darkening into grief, and festal splendor into +funereal duskiness; and all evolving, as their moral, a grim identity +between gay things and sorrowful ones. Only give them a little time, and +they turn out to be just alike! + +"There has been much festivity in this saloon, if I may judge by the +character of its frescos," remarked Kenyon, whose spirits were still +upheld by the mild potency of the Monte Beni wine. "Your forefathers, +my dear Count, must have been joyous fellows, keeping up the vintage +merriment throughout the year. It does me good to think of them +gladdening the hearts of men and women, with their wine of Sunshine, +even in the Iron Age, as Pan and Bacchus, whom we see yonder, did in the +Golden one!" + +"Yes; there have been merry times in the banquet hall of Monte Beni, +even within my own remembrance," replied Donatello, looking gravely +at the painted walls. "It was meant for mirth, as you see; and when +I brought my own cheerfulness into the saloon, these frescos looked +cheerful too. But, methinks, they have all faded since I saw them last." + +"It would be a good idea," said the sculptor, falling into his +companion's vein, and helping him out with an illustration which +Donatello himself could not have put into shape, "to convert this saloon +into a chapel; and when the priest tells his hearers of the instability +of earthly joys, and would show how drearily they vanish, he may point +to these pictures, that were so joyous and are so dismal. He could not +illustrate his theme so aptly in any other way." + +"True, indeed," answered the Count, his former simplicity strangely +mixing itself up with ah experience that had changed him; "and yonder, +where the minstrels used to stand, the altar shall be placed. A sinful +man might do all the more effective penance in this old banquet hall." + +"But I should regret to have suggested so ungenial a transformation in +your hospitable saloon," continued Kenyon, duly noting the change in +Donatello's characteristics. "You startle me, my friend, by so ascetic a +design! It would hardly have entered your head, when we first met. Pray +do not,--if I may take the freedom of a somewhat elder man to advise +you," added he, smiling,--"pray do not, under a notion of improvement, +take upon yourself to be sombre, thoughtful, and penitential, like all +the rest of us." + +Donatello made no answer, but sat awhile, appearing to follow with +his eyes one of the figures, which was repeated many times over in the +groups upon the walls and ceiling. It formed the principal link of an +allegory, by which (as is often the case in such pictorial designs) +the whole series of frescos were bound together, but which it would be +impossible, or, at least, very wearisome, to unravel. The sculptor's +eyes took a similar direction, and soon began to trace through the +vicissitudes,--once gay, now sombre,--in which the old artist had +involved it, the same individual figure. He fancied a resemblance in it +to Donatello himself; and it put him in mind of one of the purposes with +which he had come to Monte Beni. + +"My dear Count," said he, "I have a proposal to make. You must let me +employ a little of my leisure in modelling your bust. You remember what +a striking resemblance we all of us--Hilda, Miriam, and I--found between +your features and those of the Faun of Praxiteles. Then, it seemed an +identity; but now that I know your face better, the likeness is far less +apparent. Your head in marble would be a treasure to me. Shall I have +it?" + +"I have a weakness which I fear I cannot overcome," replied the Count, +turning away his face. "It troubles me to be looked at steadfastly." + +"I have observed it since we have been sitting here, though never +before," rejoined the sculptor. "It is a kind of nervousness, I +apprehend, which, you caught in the Roman air, and which grows upon you, +in your solitary life. It need be no hindrance to my taking your bust; +for I will catch the likeness and expression by side glimpses, which +(if portrait painters and bust makers did but know it) always bring home +richer results than a broad stare." + +"You may take me if you have the power," said Donatello; but, even as he +spoke, he turned away his face; "and if you can see what makes me shrink +from you, you are welcome to put it in the bust. It is not my will, but +my necessity, to avoid men's eyes. Only," he added, with a smile which +made Kenyon doubt whether he might not as well copy the Faun as model a +new bust,--"only, you know, you must not insist on my uncovering these +ears of mine!" + +"Nay; I never should dream of such a thing," answered the sculptor, +laughing, as the young Count shook his clustering curls. "I could not +hope to persuade you, remembering how Miriam once failed!" + +Nothing is more unaccountable than the spell that often lurks in a +spoken word. A thought may be present to the mind, so distinctly that +no utterance could make it more so; and two minds may be conscious of +the same thought, in which one or both take the profoundest interest; +but as long as it remains unspoken, their familiar talk flows quietly +over the hidden idea, as a rivulet may sparkle and dimple over something +sunken in its bed. But speak the word, and it is like bringing up a +drowned body out of the deepest pool of the rivulet, which has been +aware of the horrible secret all along, in spite of its smiling surface. + +And even so, when Kenyon chanced to make a distinct reference to +Donatello's relations with Miriam (though the subject was already in +both their minds), a ghastly emotion rose up out of the depths of the +young Count's heart. He trembled either with anger or terror, and +glared at the sculptor with wild eyes, like a wolf that meets you in +the forest, and hesitates whether to flee or turn to bay. But, as Kenyon +still looked calmly at him, his aspect gradually became less disturbed, +though far from resuming its former quietude. + +"You have spoken her name," said he, at last, in an altered and +tremulous tone; "tell me, now, all that you know of her." + +"I scarcely think that I have any later intelligence than yourself," +answered Kenyon; "Miriam left Rome at about the time of your own +departure. Within a day or two after our last meeting at the Church of +the Capuchins, I called at her studio and found it vacant. Whither she +has gone, I cannot tell." + +Donatello asked no further questions. + +They rose from table, and strolled together about the premises, whiling +away the afternoon with brief intervals of unsatisfactory conversation, +and many shadowy silences. The sculptor had a perception of change in +his companion,--possibly of growth and development, but certainly of +change,--which saddened him, because it took away much of the simple +grace that was the best of Donatello's peculiarities. + +Kenyon betook himself to repose that night in a grim, old, vaulted +apartment, which, in the lapse of five or six centuries, had probably +been the birth, bridal, and death chamber of a great many generations +of the Monte Beni family. He was aroused, soon after daylight, by the +clamor of a tribe of beggars who had taken their stand in a little +rustic lane that crept beside that portion of the villa, and were +addressing their petitions to the open windows. By and by they appeared +to have received alms, and took their departure. + +"Some charitable Christian has sent those vagabonds away," thought the +sculptor, as he resumed his interrupted nap; "who could it be? Donatello +has his own rooms in the tower; Stella, Tomaso, and the cook are a +world's width off; and I fancied myself the only inhabitant in this part +of the house." + +In the breadth and space which so delightfully characterize an Italian +villa, a dozen guests might have had each his suite of apartments +without infringing upon one another's ample precincts. But, so far as +Kenyon knew, he was the only visitor beneath Donatello's widely extended +roof. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +THE PEDIGREE OF MONTE BENI + + +From the old butler, whom he found to be a very gracious and affable +personage, Kenyon soon learned many curious particulars about the family +history and hereditary peculiarities of the Counts of Monte Beni. There +was a pedigree, the later portion of which--that is to say, for a little +more than a thousand years--a genealogist would have found delight in +tracing out, link by link, and authenticating by records and documentary +evidences. It would have been as difficult, however, to follow up the +stream of Donatello's ancestry to its dim source, as travellers have +found it to reach the mysterious fountains of the Nile. And, far beyond +the region of definite and demonstrable fact, a romancer might have +strayed into a region of old poetry, where the rich soil, so long +uncultivated and untrodden, had lapsed into nearly its primeval state +of wilderness. Among those antique paths, now overgrown with tangled and +riotous vegetation, the wanderer must needs follow his own guidance, and +arrive nowhither at last. + +The race of Monte Beni, beyond a doubt, was one of the oldest in Italy, +where families appear to survive at least, if not to flourish, on their +half-decayed roots, oftener than in England or France. It came down in +a broad track from the Middle Ages; but, at epochs anterior to those, +it was distinctly visible in the gloom of the period before chivalry put +forth its flower; and further still, we are almost afraid to say, it was +seen, though with a fainter and wavering course, in the early morn of +Christendom, when the Roman Empire had hardly begun to show symptoms of +decline. At that venerable distance, the heralds gave up the lineage in +despair. + +But where written record left the genealogy of Monte Beni, tradition +took it up, and carried it without dread or shame beyond the Imperial +ages into the times of the Roman republic; beyond those, again, into the +epoch of kingly rule. Nor even so remotely among the mossy centuries did +it pause, but strayed onward into that gray antiquity of which there +is no token left, save its cavernous tombs, and a few bronzes, and some +quaintly wrought ornaments of gold, and gems with mystic figures and +inscriptions. There, or thereabouts, the line was supposed to have had +its origin in the sylvan life of Etruria, while Italy was yet guiltless +of Rome. + +Of course, as we regret to say, the earlier and very much the larger +portion of this respectable descent--and the same is true of many +briefer pedigrees--must be looked upon as altogether mythical. Still, +it threw a romantic interest around the unquestionable antiquity of the +Monte Beni family, and over that tract of their own vines and fig-trees +beneath the shade of which they had unquestionably dwelt for immemorial +ages. And there they had laid the foundations of their tower, so long +ago that one half of its height was said to be sunken under the surface +and to hide subterranean chambers which once were cheerful with the +olden sunshine. + +One story, or myth, that had mixed itself up with their mouldy +genealogy, interested the sculptor by its wild, and perhaps grotesque, +yet not unfascinating peculiarity. He caught at it the more eagerly, +as it afforded a shadowy and whimsical semblance of explanation for the +likeness which he, with Miriam and Hilda, had seen or fancied between +Donatello and the Faun of Praxiteles. + +The Monte Beni family, as this legend averred, drew their origin +from the Pelasgic race, who peopled Italy in times that may be called +prehistoric. It was the same noble breed of men, of Asiatic birth, +that settled in Greece; the same happy and poetic kindred who dwelt in +Arcadia, and--whether they ever lived such life or not--enriched the +world with dreams, at least, and fables, lovely, if unsubstantial, of a +Golden Age. In those delicious times, when deities and demigods appeared +familiarly on earth, mingling with its inhabitants as friend with +friend,--when nymphs, satyrs, and the whole train of classic faith or +fable hardly took pains to hide themselves in the primeval woods,--at +that auspicious period the lineage of Monte Beni had its rise. Its +progenitor was a being not altogether human, yet partaking so largely of +the gentlest human qualities, as to be neither awful nor shocking to +the imagination. A sylvan creature, native among the woods, had loved +a mortal maiden, and--perhaps by kindness, and the subtile courtesies +which love might teach to his simplicity, or possibly by a ruder +wooing--had won her to his haunts. In due time he gained her womanly +affection; and, making their bridal bower, for aught we know, in the +hollow of a great tree, the pair spent a happy wedded life in that +ancient neighborhood where now stood Donatello's tower. + +From this union sprang a vigorous progeny that took its place +unquestioned among human families. In that age, however, and long +afterwards, it showed the ineffaceable lineaments of its wild paternity: +it was a pleasant and kindly race of men, but capable of savage +fierceness, and never quite restrainable within the trammels of social +law. They were strong, active, genial, cheerful as the sunshine, +passionate as the tornado. Their lives were rendered blissful by art +unsought harmony with nature. + +But, as centuries passed away, the Faun's wild blood had necessarily +been attempered with constant intermixtures from the more ordinary +streams of human life. It lost many of its original qualities, and +served for the most part only to bestow an unconquerable vigor, which +kept the family from extinction, and enabled them to make their own part +good throughout the perils and rude emergencies of their interminable +descent. In the constant wars with which Italy was plagued, by the +dissensions of her petty states and republics, there was a demand for +native hardihood. + +The successive members of the Monte Beni family showed valor and policy +enough' at all events, to keep their hereditary possessions out of the +clutch of grasping neighbors, and probably differed very little from the +other feudal barons with whom they fought and feasted. Such a degree +of conformity with the manners of the generations through which it +survived, must have been essential to the prolonged continuance of the +race. + +It is well known, however, that any hereditary peculiarity--as a +supernumerary finger, or an anomalous shape of feature, like the +Austrian lip--is wont to show itself in a family after a very wayward +fashion. It skips at its own pleasure along the line, and, latent for +half a century or so, crops out again in a great-grandson. And thus, it +was said, from a period beyond memory or record, there had ever and +anon been a descendant of the Monte Benis bearing nearly all the +characteristics that were attributed to the original founder of the +race. Some traditions even went so far as to enumerate the ears, covered +with a delicate fur, and shaped like a pointed leaf, among the proofs +of authentic descent which were seen in these favored individuals. We +appreciate the beauty of such tokens of a nearer kindred to the great +family of nature than other mortals bear; but it would be idle to ask +credit for a statement which might be deemed to partake so largely of +the grotesque. + +But it was indisputable that, once in a century or oftener, a son of +Monte Beni gathered into himself the scattered qualities of his +race, and reproduced the character that had been assigned to it from +immemorial times. Beautiful, strong, brave, kindly, sincere, of +honest impulses, and endowed with simple tastes and the love of homely +pleasures, he was believed to possess gifts by which he could associate +himself with the wild things of the forests, and with the fowls of the +air, and could feel a sympathy even with the trees; among which it was +his joy to dwell. On the other hand, there were deficiencies both of +intellect and heart, and especially, as it seemed, in the development of +the higher portion of man's nature. These defects were less perceptible +in early youth, but showed themselves more strongly with advancing +age, when, as the animal spirits settled down upon a lower level, the +representative of the Monte Benis was apt to become sensual, addicted to +gross pleasures, heavy, unsympathizing, and insulated within the narrow +limits of a surly selfishness. + +A similar change, indeed, is no more than what we constantly observe to +take place in persons who are not careful to substitute other graces for +those which they inevitably lose along with the quick sensibility and +joyous vivacity of youth. At worst, the reigning Count of Monte Beni, +as his hair grew white, was still a jolly old fellow over his flask of +wine, the wine that Bacchus himself was fabled to have taught his sylvan +ancestor how to express, and from what choicest grapes, which would +ripen only in a certain divinely favored portion of the Monte Beni +vineyard. + +The family, be it observed, were both proud and ashamed of these +legends; but whatever part of them they might consent to incorporate +into their ancestral history, they steadily repudiated all that referred +to their one distinctive feature, the pointed and furry ears. In a great +many years past, no sober credence had been yielded to the mythical +portion of the pedigree. It might, however, be considered as typifying +some such assemblage of qualities--in this case, chiefly remarkable for +their simplicity and naturalness--as, when they reappear in successive +generations, constitute what we call family character. The sculptor +found, moreover, on the evidence of some old portraits, that the +physical features of the race had long been similar to what he now saw +them in Donatello. With accumulating years, it is true, the Monte +Beni face had a tendency to look grim and savage; and, in two or three +instances, the family pictures glared at the spectator in the eyes like +some surly animal, that had lost its good humor when it outlived its +playfulness. + +The young Count accorded his guest full liberty to investigate the +personal annals of these pictured worthies, as well as all the rest +of his progenitors; and ample materials were at hand in many chests of +worm-eaten papers and yellow parchments, that had been gathering into +larger and dustier piles ever since the dark ages. But, to confess the +truth, the information afforded by these musty documents was so much +more prosaic than what Kenyon acquired from Tomaso's legends, that even +the superior authenticity of the former could not reconcile him to its +dullness. What especially delighted the sculptor was the analogy between +Donatello's character, as he himself knew it, and those peculiar traits +which the old butler's narrative assumed to have been long hereditary +in the race. He was amused at finding, too, that not only Tomaso but the +peasantry of the estate and neighboring village recognized his friend +as a genuine Monte Beni, of the original type. They seemed to cherish a +great affection for the young Count, and were full of stories about his +sportive childhood; how he had played among the little rustics, and been +at once the wildest and the sweetest of them all; and how, in his very +infancy, he had plunged into the deep pools of the streamlets and never +been drowned, and had clambered to the topmost branches of tall trees +without ever breaking his neck. No such mischance could happen to the +sylvan child because, handling all the elements of nature so fearlessly +and freely, nothing had either the power or the will to do him harm. + +He grew up, said these humble friends, the playmate not only of all +mortal kind, but of creatures of the woods; although, when Kenyon +pressed them for some particulars of this latter mode of companionship, +they could remember little more than a few anecdotes of a pet fox, which +used to growl and snap at everybody save Donatello himself. + +But they enlarged--and never were weary of the theme--upon the +blithesome effects of Donatello's presence in his rosy childhood and +budding youth. Their hovels had always glowed like sunshine when he +entered them; so that, as the peasants expressed it, their young master +had never darkened a doorway in his life. He was the soul of vintage +festivals. While he was a mere infant, scarcely able to run alone, it +had been the custom to make him tread the winepress with his tender +little feet, if it were only to crush one cluster of the grapes. And the +grape-juice that gushed beneath his childish tread, be it ever so small +in quantity, sufficed to impart a pleasant flavor to a whole cask of +wine. The race of Monte Beni--so these rustic chroniclers assured +the sculptor--had possessed the gift from the oldest of old times of +expressing good wine from ordinary grapes, and a ravishing liquor from +the choice growth of their vineyard. + +In a word, as he listened to such tales as these, Kenyon could have +imagined that the valleys and hillsides about him were a veritable +Arcadia; and that Donatello was not merely a sylvan faun, but the genial +wine god in his very person. Making many allowances for the poetic +fancies of Italian peasants, he set it down for fact that his friend, in +a simple way and among rustic folks, had been an exceedingly delightful +fellow in his younger days. + +But the contadini sometimes added, shaking their heads and sighing, that +the young Count was sadly changed since he went to Rome. The village +girls now missed the merry smile with which he used to greet them. + +The sculptor inquired of his good friend Tomaso, whether he, too, +had noticed the shadow which was said to have recently fallen over +Donatello's life. + +"Ah, yes, Signore!" answered the old butler, "it is even so, since +he came back from that wicked and miserable city. The world has grown +either too evil, or else too wise and sad, for such men as the old +Counts of Monte Beni used to be. His very first taste of it, as you see, +has changed and spoilt my poor young lord. There had not been a single +count in the family these hundred years or more, who was so true a Monte +Beni, of the antique stamp, as this poor signorino; and now it brings +the tears into my eyes to hear him sighing over a cup of Sunshine! Ah, +it is a sad world now!" + +"Then you think there was a merrier world once?" asked Kenyon. + +"Surely, Signore," said Tomaso; "a merrier world, and merrier Counts of +Monte Beni to live in it! Such tales of them as I have heard, when I was +a child on my grandfather's knee! The good old man remembered a lord of +Monte Beni--at least, he had heard of such a one, though I will not make +oath upon the holy crucifix that my grandsire lived in his time who used +to go into the woods and call pretty damsels out of the fountains, and +out of the trunks of the old trees. That merry lord was known to dance +with them a whole long summer afternoon! When shall we see such frolics +in our days?" + +"Not soon, I am afraid," acquiesced the sculptor. "You are right, +excellent Tomaso; the world is sadder now!" + +And, in truth, while our friend smiled at these wild fables, he sighed +in the same breath to think how the once genial earth produces, in every +successive generation, fewer flowers than used to gladden the preceding +ones. Not that the modes and seeming possibilities of human enjoyment +are rarer in our refined and softened era,--on the contrary, they never +before were nearly so abundant,--but that mankind are getting so far +beyond the childhood of their race that they scorn to be happy any +longer. A simple and joyous character can find no place for itself +among the sage and sombre figures that would put his unsophisticated +cheerfulness to shame. The entire system of man's affairs, as at present +established, is built up purposely to exclude the careless and happy +soul. The very children would upbraid the wretched individual who should +endeavor to take life and the world as w what we might naturally suppose +them meant for--a place and opportunity for enjoyment. + +It is the iron rule in our day to require an object and a purpose in +life. It makes us all parts of a complicated scheme of progress, which +can only result in our arrival at a colder and drearier region than +we were born in. It insists upon everybody's adding somewhat--a mite, +perhaps, but earned by incessant effort--to an accumulated pile of +usefulness, of which the only use will be, to burden our posterity with +even heavier thoughts and more inordinate labor than our own. No life +now wanders like an unfettered stream; there is a mill-wheel for the +tiniest rivulet to turn. We go all wrong, by too strenuous a resolution +to go all right. + +Therefore it was--so, at least, the sculptor thought, although partly +suspicious of Donatello's darker misfortune--that the young Count found +it impossible nowadays to be what his forefathers had been. He could +not live their healthy life of animal spirits, in their sympathy with +nature, and brotherhood with all that breathed around them. Nature, in +beast, fowl, and tree, and earth, flood, and sky, is what it was of old; +but sin, care, and self-consciousness have set the human portion of the +world askew; and thus the simplest character is ever the soonest to go +astray. + +"At any rate, Tomaso," said Kenyon, doing his best to comfort the old +man, "let us hope that your young lord will still enjoy himself at +vintage time. By the aspect of the vineyard, I judge that this will be +a famous year for the golden wine of Monte Beni. As long as your grapes +produce that admirable liquor, sad as you think the world, neither the +Count nor his guests will quite forget to smile." + +"Ah, Signore," rejoined the butler with a sigh, "but he scarcely wets +his lips with the sunny juice." + +"There is yet another hope," observed Kenyon; "the young Count may fall +in love, and bring home a fair and laughing wife to chase the gloom out +of yonder old frescoed saloon. Do you think he could do a better thing, +my good Tomaso?" + +"Maybe not, Signore," said the sage butler, looking earnestly at him; +"and, maybe, not a worse!" + +The sculptor fancied that the good old man had it partly in his mind to +make some remark, or communicate some fact, which, on second thoughts, +he resolved to keep concealed in his own breast. He now took his +departure cellarward, shaking his white head and muttering to himself, +and did not reappear till dinner-time, when he favored Kenyon, whom he +had taken far into his good graces, with a choicer flask of Sunshine +than had yet blessed his palate. + +To say the truth, this golden wine was no unnecessary ingredient towards +making the life of Monte Beni palatable. It seemed a pity that Donatello +did not drink a little more of it, and go jollily to bed at least, +even if he should awake with an accession of darker melancholy the next +morning. + +Nevertheless, there was no lack of outward means for leading an +agreeable life in the old villa. Wandering musicians haunted the +precincts of Monte Beni, where they seemed to claim a prescriptive +right; they made the lawn and shrubbery tuneful with the sound of +fiddle, harp, and flute, and now and then with the tangled squeaking of +a bagpipe. Improvisatori likewise came and told tales or recited verses +to the contadini--among whom Kenyon was often an auditor--after their +day's work in the vineyard. Jugglers, too, obtained permission to do +feats of magic in the hall, where they set even the sage Tomaso, and +Stella, Girolamo, and the peasant girls from the farmhouse, all of a +broad grin, between merriment and wonder. These good people got food and +lodging for their pleasant pains, and some of the small wine of Tuscany, +and a reasonable handful of the Grand Duke's copper coin, to keep up +the hospitable renown of Monte Beni. But very seldom had they the young +Count as a listener or a spectator. + +There were sometimes dances by moonlight on the lawn, but never since he +came from Rome did Donatello's presence deepen the blushes of the +pretty contadinas, or his footstep weary out the most agile partner or +competitor, as once it was sure to do. + +Paupers--for this kind of vermin infested the house of Monte Beni worse +than any other spot in beggar-haunted Italy--stood beneath all the +windows, making loud supplication, or even establishing themselves on +the marble steps of the grand entrance. They ate and drank, and filled +their bags, and pocketed the little money that was given them, and went +forth on their devious ways, showering blessings innumerable on the +mansion and its lord, and on the souls of his deceased forefathers, who +had always been just such simpletons as to be compassionate to +beggary. But, in spite of their favorable prayers, by which Italian +philanthropists set great store, a cloud seemed to hang over these once +Arcadian precincts, and to be darkest around the summit of the tower +where Donatello was wont to sit and brood. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +MYTHS + + +After the sculptor's arrival, however, the young Count sometimes +came down from his forlorn elevation, and rambled with him among the +neighboring woods and hills. He led his friend to many enchanting nooks, +with which he himself had been familiar in his childhood. But of late, +as he remarked to Kenyon, a sort of strangeness had overgrown them, +like clusters of dark shrubbery, so that he hardly recognized the places +which he had known and loved so well. + +To the sculptor's eye, nevertheless, they were still rich with beauty. +They were picturesque in that sweetly impressive way where wildness, in +a long lapse of years, has crept over scenes that have been once adorned +with the careful art and toil of man; and when man could do no more for +them, time and nature came, and wrought hand in hand to bring them to a +soft and venerable perfection. There grew the fig-tree that had run wild +and taken to wife the vine, which likewise had gone rampant out of +all human control; so that the two wild things had tangled and +knotted themselves into a wild marriage bond, and hung their various +progeny--the luscious figs, the grapes, oozy with the Southern juice, +and both endowed with a wild flavor that added the final charm--on the +same bough together. + +In Kenyon's opinion, never was any other nook so lovely as a certain +little dell which he and Donatello visited. It was hollowed in among the +hills, and open to a glimpse of the broad, fertile valley. A fountain +had its birth here, and fell into a marble basin, which was all covered +with moss and shaggy with water-weeds. Over the gush of the small +stream, with an urn in her arms, stood a marble nymph, whose nakedness +the moss had kindly clothed as with a garment; and the long trails and +tresses of the maidenhair had done what they could in the poor thing's +behalf, by hanging themselves about her waist, In former days--it might +be a remote antiquity--this lady of the fountain had first received the +infant tide into her urn and poured it thence into the marble basin. +But now the sculptured urn had a great crack from top to bottom; and the +discontented nymph was compelled to see the basin fill itself through +a channel which she could not control, although with water long ago +consecrated to her. + +For this reason, or some other, she looked terribly forlorn; and you +might have fancied that the whole fountain was but the overflow of her +lonely tears. + +"This was a place that I used greatly to delight in," remarked +Donatello, sighing. "As a child, and as a boy, I have been very happy +here." + +"And, as a man, I should ask no fitter place to be happy in," answered +Kenyon. "But you, my friend, are of such a social nature, that I should +hardly have thought these lonely haunts would take your fancy. It is +a place for a poet to dream in, and people it with the beings of his +imagination." + +"I am no poet, that I know of," said Donatello, "but yet, as I tell you, +I have been very happy here, in the company of this fountain and this +nymph. It is said that a Faun, my oldest forefather, brought home hither +to this very spot a human maiden, whom he loved and wedded. This spring +of delicious water was their household well." + +"It is a most enchanting fable!" exclaimed Kenyon; "that is, if it be +not a fact." + +"And why not a fact?" said the simple Donatello. "There is, likewise, +another sweet old story connected with this spot. But, now that I +remember it, it seems to me more sad than sweet, though formerly the +sorrow, in which it closes, did not so much impress me. If I had the +gift of tale-telling, this one would be sure to interest you mightily." + +"Pray tell it," said Kenyon; "no matter whether well or ill. These wild +legends have often the most powerful charm when least artfully told." + +So the young Count narrated a myth of one of his Progenitors,--he might +have lived a century ago, or a thousand years, or before the Christian +epoch, for anything that Donatello knew to the contrary,--who had made +acquaintance with a fair creature belonging to this fountain. Whether +woman or sprite was a mystery, as was all else about her, except that +her life and soul were somehow interfused throughout the gushing water. +She was a fresh, cool, dewy thing, sunny and shadowy, full of pleasant +little mischiefs, fitful and changeable with the whim of the moment, but +yet as constant as her native stream, which kept the same gush and flow +forever, while marble crumbled over and around it. The fountain woman +loved the youth,--a knight, as Donatello called him,--for, according +to the legend, his race was akin to hers. At least, whether kin or no, +there had been friendship and sympathy of old betwixt an ancestor of +his, with furry ears, and the long-lived lady of the fountain. And, +after all those ages, she was still as young as a May morning, and as +frolicsome as a bird upon a tree, or a breeze that makes merry with the +leaves. + +She taught him how to call her from her pebbly source, and they spent +many a happy hour together, more especially in the fervor of the summer +days. For often as he sat waiting for her by the margin of the spring, +she would suddenly fall down around him in a shower of sunny raindrops, +with a rainbow glancing through them, and forthwith gather herself up +into the likeness of a beautiful girl, laughing--or was it the warble of +the rill over the pebbles?--to see the youth's amazement. + + +Thus, kind maiden that she was, the hot atmosphere became deliciously +cool and fragrant for this favored knight; and, furthermore, when he +knelt down to drink out of the spring, nothing was more common than for +a pair of rosy lips to come up out of its little depths, and touch his +mouth with the thrill of a sweet, cool, dewy kiss! + +"It is a delightful story for the hot noon of your Tuscan summer," +observed the sculptor, at this point. "But the deportment of the watery +lady must have had a most chilling influence in midwinter. Her lover +would find it, very literally, a cold reception!" + +"I suppose," said Donatello rather sulkily, "you are making fun of the +story. But I see nothing laughable in the thing itself, nor in what you +say about it." + +He went on to relate, that for a long While the knight found infinite +pleasure and comfort in the friendship of the fountain nymph. In his +merriest hours, she gladdened him with her sportive humor. If ever he +was annoyed with earthly trouble, she laid her moist hand upon his brow, +and charmed the fret and fever quite away. + +But one day--one fatal noontide--the young knight came rushing with +hasty and irregular steps to the accustomed fountain. He called the +nymph; but--no doubt because there was something unusual and frightful +in his tone she did not appear, nor answer him. He flung himself down, +and washed his hands and bathed his feverish brow in the cool, pure +water. And then there was a sound of woe; it might have been a woman's +voice; it might have been only the sighing of the brook over the +pebbles. The water shrank away from the youth's hands, and left his brow +as dry and feverish as before. + +Donatello here came to a dead pause. + +"Why did the water shrink from this unhappy knight?" inquired the +sculptor. + +"Because he had tried to wash off a bloodstain!" said the young Count, +in a horror-stricken whisper. "The guilty man had polluted the pure +water. The nymph might have comforted him in sorrow, but could not +cleanse his conscience of a crime." + +"And did he never behold her more?" asked Kenyon. + +"Never but once," replied his friend. "He never beheld her blessed face +but once again, and then there was a blood-stain on the poor nymph's +brow; it was the stain his guilt had left in the fountain where he tried +to wash it off. He mourned for her his whole life long, and employed +the best sculptor of the time to carve this statue of the nymph from his +description of her aspect. But, though my ancestor would fain have had +the image wear her happiest look, the artist, unlike yourself, was so +impressed with the mournfulness of the story, that, in spite of his best +efforts, he made her forlorn, and forever weeping, as you see!" + +Kenyon found a certain charm in this simple legend. Whether so intended +or not, he understood it as an apologue, typifying the soothing and +genial effects of an habitual intercourse with nature in all ordinary +cares and griefs; while, on the other hand, her mild influences fall +short in their effect upon the ruder passions, and are altogether +powerless in the dread fever-fit or deadly chill of guilt. + +"Do you say," he asked, "that the nymph's race has never since been +shown to any mortal? Methinks you, by your native qualities, are as well +entitled to her favor as ever your progenitor could have been. Why have +you not summoned her?" + +"I called her often when I was a silly child," answered Donatello; and +he added, in an inward voice, "Thank Heaven, she did not come!" + +"Then you never saw her?" said the sculptor. + +"Never in my life!" rejoined the Count. "No, my dear friend, I have +not seen the nymph; although here, by her fountain, I used to make many +strange acquaintances; for, from my earliest childhood, I was familiar +with whatever creatures haunt the woods. You would have laughed to see +the friends I had among them; yes, among the wild, nimble things, that +reckon man their deadliest enemy! How it was first taught me, I cannot +tell; but there was a charm--a voice, a murmur, a kind of chant--by +which I called the woodland inhabitants, the furry people, and the +feathered people, in a language that they seemed to understand." + +"I have heard of such a gift," responded the sculptor gravely, "but +never before met with a person endowed with it. Pray try the charm; +and lest I should frighten your friends away, I will withdraw into this +thicket, and merely peep at them." + +"I doubt," said Donatello, "whether they will remember my voice now. It +changes, you know, as the boy grows towards manhood." + +Nevertheless, as the young Count's good-nature and easy persuadability +were among his best characteristics, he set about complying with +Kenyon's request. The latter, in his concealment among the shrubberies, +heard him send forth a sort of modulated breath, wild, rude, yet +harmonious. It struck the auditor as at once the strangest and the +most natural utterance that had ever reached his ears. Any idle boy, +it should seem, singing to himself and setting his wordless song to +no other or more definite tune than the play of his own pulses, +might produce a sound almost identical with this; and yet, it was as +individual as a murmur of the breeze. Donatello tried it, over and over +again, with many breaks, at first, and pauses of uncertainty; then with +more confidence, and a fuller swell, like a wayfarer groping out +of obscurity into the light, and moving with freer footsteps as it +brightens around him. + +Anon, his voice appeared to fill the air, yet not with an obtrusive +clangor. The sound was of a murmurous character, soft, attractive, +persuasive, friendly. The sculptor fancied that such might have been +the original voice and utterance of the natural man, before the +sophistication of the human intellect formed what we now call language. +In this broad dialect--broad as the sympathies of nature--the human +brother might have spoken to his inarticulate brotherhood that prowl the +woods, or soar upon the wing, and have been intelligible to such extent +as to win their confidence. + +The sound had its pathos too. At some of its simple cadences, the tears +came quietly into Kenyon's eyes. They welled up slowly from his heart, +which was thrilling with an emotion more delightful than he had often +felt before, but which he forbore to analyze, lest, if he seized it, it +should at once perish in his grasp. + +Donatello paused two or three times, and seemed to listen,--then, +recommencing, he poured his spirit and life more earnestly into the +strain. And finally,--or else the sculptor's hope and imagination +deceived him,--soft treads were audible upon the fallen leaves. There +was a rustling among the shrubbery; a whir of wings, moreover, that +hovered in the air. It may have been all an illusion; but Kenyon fancied +that he could distinguish the stealthy, cat-like movement of some small +forest citizen, and that he could even see its doubtful shadow, if not +really its substance. But, all at once, whatever might be the reason, +there ensued a hurried rush and scamper of little feet; and then the +sculptor heard a wild, sorrowful cry, and through the crevices of the +thicket beheld Donatello fling himself on the ground. + +Emerging from his hiding-place, he saw no living thing, save a brown +lizard (it was of the tarantula species) rustling away through the +sunshine. To all present appearance, this venomous reptile was the only +creature that had responded to the young Count's efforts to renew his +intercourse with the lower orders of nature. + +"What has happened to you?" exclaimed Kenyon, stooping down over his +friend, and wondering at the anguish which he betrayed. + +"Death, death!" sobbed Donatello. "They know it!" + +He grovelled beside the fountain, in a fit of such passionate sobbing +and weeping, that it seemed as if his heart had broken, and spilt its +wild sorrows upon the ground. His unrestrained grief and childish tears +made Kenyon sensible in how small a degree the customs and restraints of +society had really acted upon this young man, in spite of the quietude +of his ordinary deportment. In response to his friend's efforts to +console him, he murmured words hardly more articulate than the strange +chant which he had so recently been breathing into the air. + +"They know it!" was all that Kenyon could yet distinguish,--"they know +it!" + +"Who know it?" asked the sculptor. "And what is it their know?" "They +know it!" repeated Donatello, trembling. "They shun me! All nature +shrinks from me, and shudders at me! I live in the midst of a curse, +that hems me round with a circle of fire! No innocent thing can come +near me." + +"Be comforted, my dear friend," said Kenyon, kneeling beside him. "You +labor under some illusion, but no curse. As for this strange, natural +spell, which you have been exercising, and of which I have heard before, +though I never believed in, nor expected to witness it, I am satisfied +that you still possess it. It was my own half-concealed presence, no +doubt, and some involuntary little movement of mine, that scared away +your forest friends." + +"They are friends of mine no longer," answered Donatello. + +"We all of us, as we grow older," rejoined Kenyon, "lose somewhat of our +proximity to nature. It is the price we pay for experience." + +"A heavy price, then!" said Donatello, rising from the ground. "But we +will speak no more of it. Forget this scene, my dear friend. In your +eyes, it must look very absurd. It is a grief, I presume, to all men, to +find the pleasant privileges and properties of early life departing from +them. That grief has now befallen me. Well; I shall waste no more tears +for such a cause!" + +Nothing else made Kenyon so sensible of a change in Donatello, as his +newly acquired power of dealing with his own emotions, and, after a +struggle more or less fierce, thrusting them down into the prison cells +where he usually kept them confined. The restraint, which he now put +upon himself, and the mask of dull composure which he succeeded in +clasping over his still beautiful, and once faun-like face, affected the +sensitive sculptor more sadly than even the unrestrained passion of the +preceding scene. It is a very miserable epoch, when the evil necessities +of life, in our tortuous world, first get the better of us so far as to +compel us to attempt throwing a cloud over our transparency. Simplicity +increases in value the longer we can keep it, and the further we carry +it onward into life; the loss of a child's simplicity, in the inevitable +lapse of years, causes but a natural sigh or two, because even his +mother feared that he could not keep it always. But after a young man +has brought it through his childhood, and has still worn it in +his bosom, not as an early dewdrop, but as a diamond of pure white +lustre,--it is a pity to lose it, then. And thus, when Kenyon saw how +much his friend had now to hide, and how well he hid it, he would have +wept, although his tears would have been even idler than those which +Donatello had just shed. + +They parted on the lawn before the house, the Count to climb his tower, +and the sculptor to read an antique edition of Dante, which he had found +among some old volumes of Catholic devotion, in a seldom-visited room, +Tomaso met him in the entrance hall, and showed a desire to speak. + +"Our poor signorino looks very sad to-day!" he said. + +"Even so, good Tomaso," replied the sculptor. "Would that we could raise +his spirits a little!" + +"There might be means, Signore," answered the old butler, "if one might +but be sure that they were the right ones. We men are but rough nurses +for a sick body or a sick spirit." + +"Women, you would say, my good friend, are better," said the sculptor, +struck by an intelligence in the butler's face. "That is possible! But +it depends." + +"Ah; we will wait a little longer," said Tomaso, with the customary +shake of his head. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +THE OWL TOWER + + +"Will you not show me your tower?" said the sculptor one day to his +friend. + +"It is plainly enough to be seen, methinks," answered the Count, with +a kind of sulkiness that often appeared in him, as one of the little +symptoms of inward trouble. + +"Yes; its exterior is visible far and wide," said Kenyon. "But such +a gray, moss-grown tower as this, however valuable as an object of +scenery, will certainly be quite as interesting inside as out. It cannot +be less than six hundred years old; the foundations and lower story are +much older than that, I should judge; and traditions probably cling to +the walls within quite as plentifully as the gray and yellow lichens +cluster on its face without." + +"No doubt," replied Donatello,--"but I know little of such things, and +never could comprehend the interest which some of you Forestieri take +in them. A year or two ago an English signore, with a venerable white +beard--they say he was a magician, too--came hither from as far off as +Florence, just to see my tower." + +"Ah, I have seen him at Florence," observed Kenyon. "He is a +necromancer, as you say, and dwells in an old mansion of the Knights +Templars, close by the Ponte Vecchio, with a great many ghostly books, +pictures, and antiquities, to make the house gloomy, and one bright-eyed +little girl, to keep it cheerful!" + +"I know him only by his white beard," said Donatello; "but he could +have told you a great deal about the tower, and the sieges which it has +stood, and the prisoners who have been confined in it. And he gathered +up all the traditions of the Monte Beni family, and, among the rest, +the sad one which I told you at the fountain the other day. He had known +mighty poets, he said, in his earlier life; and the most illustrious +of them would have rejoiced to preserve such a legend in immortal +rhyme,--especially if he could have had some of our wine of Sunshine to +help out his inspiration!" + +"Any man might be a poet, as well as Byron, with such wine and such +a theme," rejoined the sculptor. "But shall we climb your tower The +thunder-storm gathering yonder among the hills will be a spectacle worth +witnessing." + +"Come, then," said the Count, adding, with a sigh, "it has a weary +staircase, and dismal chambers, and it is very lonesome at the summit!" + +"Like a man's life, when he has climbed to eminence," remarked the +sculptor; "or, let us rather say, with its difficult steps, and the dark +prison cells you speak of, your tower resembles the spiritual experience +of many a sinful soul, which, nevertheless, may struggle upward into the +pure air and light of Heaven at last!" + +Donatello sighed again, and led the way up into the tower. + +Mounting the broad staircase that ascended from the entrance hall, +they traversed the great wilderness of a house, through some obscure +passages, and came to a low, ancient doorway. It admitted them to a +narrow turret stair which zigzagged upward, lighted in its progress by +loopholes and iron-barred windows. Reaching the top of the first flight, +the Count threw open a door of worm-eaten oak, and disclosed a chamber +that occupied the whole area of the tower. It was most pitiably forlorn +of aspect, with a brick-paved floor, bare holes through the massive +walls, grated with iron, instead of windows, and for furniture an +old stool, which increased the dreariness of the place tenfold, by +suggesting an idea of its having once been tenanted. + +"This was a prisoner's cell in the old days," said Donatello; "the +white-bearded necromancer, of whom I told you, found out that a certain +famous monk was confined here, about five hundred years ago. He was a +very holy man, and was afterwards burned at the stake in the Grand-ducal +Square at Firenze. There have always been stories, Tomaso says, of +a hooded monk creeping up and down these stairs, or standing in the +doorway of this chamber. It must needs be the ghost of the ancient +prisoner. Do you believe in ghosts?" + +"I can hardly tell," replied Kenyon; "on the whole, I think not." + +"Neither do I," responded the Count; "for, if spirits ever come back, +I should surely have met one within these two months past. Ghosts never +rise! So much I know, and am glad to know it!" + +Following the narrow staircase still higher, they came to another room +of similar size and equally forlorn, but inhabited by two personages of +a race which from time immemorial have held proprietorship and occupancy +in ruined towers. These were a pair of owls, who, being doubtless +acquainted with Donatello, showed little sign of alarm at the entrance +of visitors. They gave a dismal croak or two, and hopped aside into the +darkest corner, since it was not yet their hour to flap duskily abroad. + +"They do not desert me, like my other feathered acquaintances," observed +the young Count, with a sad smile, alluding to the scene which Kenyon +had witnessed at the fountain-side. "When I was a wild, playful boy, the +owls did not love me half so well." + +He made no further pause here, but led his friend up another flight of +steps--while, at every stage, the windows and narrow loopholes afforded +Kenyon more extensive eye-shots over hill and valley, and allowed him +to taste the cool purity of mid-atmosphere. At length they reached the +topmost chamber, directly beneath the roof of the tower. + +"This is my own abode," said Donatello; "my own owl's nest." + +In fact, the room was fitted up as a bedchamber, though in a style of +the utmost simplicity. It likewise served as an oratory; there being +a crucifix in one corner, and a multitude of holy emblems, such as +Catholics judge it necessary to help their devotion withal. Several +ugly little prints, representing the sufferings of the Saviour, and the +martyrdoms of saints, hung on the wall; and behind the crucifix there +was a good copy of Titian's Magdalen of the Pitti Palace, clad only in +the flow of her golden ringlets. She had a confident look (but it was +Titian's fault, not the penitent woman's), as if expecting to win +heaven by the free display of her earthly charms. Inside of a glass case +appeared an image of the sacred Bambino, in the guise of a little waxen +boy, very prettily made, reclining among flowers, like a Cupid, and +holding up a heart that resembled a bit of red sealing-wax. A small vase +of precious marble was full of holy water. + +Beneath the crucifix, on a table, lay a human skull, which looked as if +it might have been dug up out of some old grave. But, examining it +more closely, Kenyon saw that it was carved in gray alabaster; most +skillfully done to the death, with accurate imitation of the teeth, +the sutures, the empty eye-caverns, and the fragile little bones of the +nose. This hideous emblem rested on a cushion of white marble, so nicely +wrought that you seemed to see the impression of the heavy skull in a +silken and downy substance. + +Donatello dipped his fingers into the holy-water vase, and crossed +himself. After doing so he trembled. + +"I have no right to make the sacred symbol on a sinful breast!" he said. + +"On what mortal breast can it be made, then?" asked the sculptor. "Is +there one that hides no sin?" + +"But these blessed emblems make you smile, I fear," resumed the Count, +looking askance at his friend. "You heretics, I know, attempt to pray +without even a crucifix to kneel at." + +"I, at least, whom you call a heretic, reverence that holy symbol," +answered Kenyon. "What I am most inclined to murmur at is this death's +head. I could laugh, moreover, in its ugly face! It is absurdly +monstrous, my dear friend, thus to fling the dead weight of our +mortality upon our immortal hopes. While we live on earth, 't is true, +we must needs carry our skeletons about with us; but, for Heaven's sake, +do not let us burden our spirits with them, in our feeble efforts to +soar upward! Believe me, it will change the whole aspect of death, if +you can once disconnect it, in your idea, with that corruption from +which it disengages our higher part." + +"I do not well understand you," said Donatello; and he took up the +alabaster skull, shuddering, and evidently feeling it a kind of penance +to touch it. "I only know that this skull has been in my family for +centuries. Old Tomaso has a story that it was copied by a famous +sculptor from the skull of that same unhappy knight who loved the +fountain lady, and lost her by a blood-stain. He lived and died with a +deep sense of sin upon him, and on his death-bed he ordained that this +token of him should go down to his posterity. And my forefathers, being +a cheerful race of men in their natural disposition, found it needful to +have the skull often before their eyes, because they dearly loved life +and its enjoyments, and hated the very thought of death." + +"I am afraid," said Kenyon, "they liked it none the better, for seeing +its face under this abominable mask." + +Without further discussion, the Count led the way up one more flight of +stairs, at the end of which they emerged upon the summit of the tower. +The sculptor felt as if his being were suddenly magnified a hundredfold; +so wide was the Umbrian valley that suddenly opened before him, set in +its grand framework of nearer and more distant hills. It seemed as if +all Italy lay under his eyes in that one picture. For there was the +broad, sunny smile of God, which we fancy to be spread over that favored +land more abundantly than on other regions, and beneath it glowed a +most rich and varied fertility. The trim vineyards were there, and the +fig-trees, and the mulberries, and the smoky-hued tracts of the olive +orchards; there, too, were fields of every kind of grain, among which, +waved the Indian corn, putting Kenyon in mind of the fondly remembered +acres of his father's homestead. White villas, gray convents, church +spires, villages, towns, each with its battlemented walls and towered +gateway, were scattered upon this spacious map; a river gleamed across +it; and lakes opened their blue eyes in its face, reflecting heaven, +lest mortals should forget that better land when they beheld the earth +so beautiful. + + +What made the valley look still wider was the two or three varieties +of weather that were visible on its surface, all at the same instant of +time. Here lay the quiet sunshine; there fell the great black patches +of ominous shadow from the clouds; and behind them, like a giant of +league-long strides, came hurrying the thunderstorm, which had already +swept midway across the plain. In the rear of the approaching tempest, +brightened forth again the sunny splendor, which its progress had +darkened with so terrible a frown. + +All round this majestic landscape, the bald-peaked or forest-crowned +mountains descended boldly upon the plain. On many of their spurs and +midway declivities, and even on their summits, stood cities, some of +them famous of old; for these had been the seats and nurseries of early +art, where the flower of beauty sprang out of a rocky soil, and in +a high, keen atmosphere, when the richest and most sheltered gardens +failed to nourish it. + +"Thank God for letting me again behold this scene!" Said the sculptor, a +devout man in his way, reverently taking off his hat. "I have viewed it +from many points, and never without as full a sensation of gratitude +as my heart seems capable of feeling. How it strengthens the poor human +spirit in its reliance on His providence, to ascend but this little way +above the common level, and so attain a somewhat wider glimpse of His +dealings with mankind! He doeth all things right! His will be done!" + +"You discern something that is hidden from me," observed Donatello +gloomily, yet striving with unwonted grasp to catch the analogies +which so cheered his friend. "I see sunshine on one spot, and cloud in +another, and no reason for it in either ease. The sun on you; the cloud +on me! What comfort can I draw from this?" + +"Nay; I cannot preach," said Kenyon, "with a page of heaven and a page +of earth spread wide open before us! Only begin to read it, and you +will find it interpreting itself without the aid of words. It is a great +mistake to try to put our best thoughts into human language. When we +ascend into the higher regions of emotion and spiritual enjoyment, they +are only expressible by such grand hieroglyphics as these around us." + +They stood awhile, contemplating the scene; but, as inevitably happens +after a spiritual flight, it was not long before the sculptor felt his +wings flagging in the rarity of the upper atmosphere. He was glad to let +himself quietly downward out of the mid-sky, as it were, and alight on +the solid platform of the battlemented tower. He looked about him, +and beheld growing out of the stone pavement, which formed the roof, a +little shrub, with green and glossy leaves. It was the only green thing +there; and Heaven knows how its seeds had ever been planted, at that +airy height, or how it had found nourishment for its small life in the +chinks of the stones; for it had no earth, and nothing more like soil +than the crumbling mortar, which had been crammed into the crevices in a +long-past age. + +Yet the plant seemed fond of its native site; and Donatello said it +had always grown there from his earliest remembrance, and never, he +believed, any smaller or any larger than they saw it now. + +"I wonder if the shrub teaches you any good lesson," said he, observing +the interest with which Kenyon examined it. "If the wide valley has a +great meaning, the plant ought to have at least a little one; and it has +been growing on our tower long enough to have learned how to speak it." + +"O, certainly!" answered the sculptor; "the shrub has its moral, or +it would have perished long ago. And, no doubt, it is for your use and +edification, since you have had it before your eyes all your lifetime, +and now are moved to ask what may be its lesson." + +"It teaches me nothing," said the simple Donatello, stooping over the +plant, and perplexing himself with a minute scrutiny. "But here was a +worm that would have killed it; an ugly creature, which I will fling +over the battlements." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +ON THE BATTLEMENTS + + +The sculptor now looked through art embrasure, and threw down a bit of +lime, watching its fall, till it struck upon a stone bench at the rocky +foundation of the tower, and flew into many fragments. + +"Pray pardon me for helping Time to crumble away your ancestral walls," +said he. "But I am one of those persons who have a natural tendency to +climb heights, and to stand on the verge of them, measuring the depth +below. If I were to do just as I like, at this moment, I should fling +myself down after that bit of lime. It is a very singular temptation, +and all but irresistible; partly, I believe, because it might be so +easily done, and partly because such momentous consequences would ensue, +without my being compelled to wait a moment for them. Have you never +felt this strange impulse of an evil spirit at your back, shoving you +towards a precipice?" + +"Ah, no!" cried. Donatello, shrinking from the battlemented wall with a +face of horror. "I cling to life in a way which you cannot conceive; it +has been so rich, so warm, so sunny!--and beyond its verge, nothing +but the chilly dark! And then a fall from a precipice is such an awful +death!" + +"Nay; if it be a great height," said Kenyon, "a man would leave his life +in the air, and never feel the hard shock at the bottom." + +"That is not the way with this kind of death!" exclaimed Donatello, in a +low, horror-stricken voice, which grew higher and more full of emotion +as he proceeded. "Imagine a fellow creature,--breathing now, and looking +you in the face,--and now tumbling down, down, down, with a long shriek +wavering after him, all the way! He does not leave his life in the air! +No; but it keeps in him till he thumps against the stones, a horribly +long while; then he lies there frightfully quiet, a dead heap of bruised +flesh and broken bones! A quiver runs through the crushed mass; and no +more movement after that! No; not if you would give your soul to make +him stir a finger! Ah, terrible! Yes, yes; I would fain fling myself +down for the very dread of it, that I might endure it once for all, and +dream of it no more!" + +"How forcibly, how frightfully you conceive this!" said the sculptor, +aghast at the passionate horror which was betrayed in the Count's words, +and still more in his wild gestures and ghastly look. "Nay, if the +height of your tower affects your imagination thus, you do wrong to +trust yourself here in solitude, and in the night-time, and at all +unguarded hours. You are not safe in your chamber. It is but a step or +two; and what if a vivid dream should lead you up hither at midnight, +and act itself out as a reality!" + +Donatello had hidden his face in his hands, and was leaning against the +parapet. + +"No fear of that!" said he. "Whatever the dream may be, I am too genuine +a coward to act out my own death in it." + +The paroxysm passed away, and the two friends continued their desultory +talk, very much as if no such interruption had occurred. Nevertheless, +it affected the sculptor with infinite pity to see this young man, who +had been born to gladness as an assured heritage, now involved in a +misty bewilderment of grievous thoughts, amid which he seemed to go +staggering blindfold. Kenyon, not without an unshaped suspicion of +the definite fact, knew that his condition must have resulted from the +weight and gloom of life, now first, through the agency of a secret +trouble, making themselves felt on a character that had heretofore +breathed only an atmosphere of joy. The effect of this hard lesson, +upon Donatello's intellect and disposition, was very striking. It was +perceptible that he had already had glimpses of strange and subtle +matters in those dark caverns, into which all men must descend, if +they would know anything beneath the surface and illusive pleasures of +existence. And when they emerge, though dazzled and blinded by the first +glare of daylight, they take truer and sadder views of life forever +afterwards. + +From some mysterious source, as the sculptor felt assured, a soul had +been inspired into the young Count's simplicity, since their intercourse +in Rome. He now showed a far deeper sense, and an intelligence that +began to deal with high subjects, though in a feeble and childish way. +He evinced, too, a more definite and nobler individuality, but developed +out of grief and pain, and fearfully conscious of the pangs that had +given it birth. Every human life, if it ascends to truth or delves down +to reality, must undergo a similar change; but sometimes, perhaps, the +instruction comes without the sorrow; and oftener the sorrow teaches +no lesson that abides with us. In Donatello's case, it was pitiful, and +almost ludicrous, to observe the confused struggle that he made; how +completely he was taken by surprise; how ill-prepared he stood, on this +old battlefield of the world, to fight with such an inevitable foe as +mortal calamity, and sin for its stronger ally. + +"And yet," thought Kenyon, "the poor fellow bears himself like a hero, +too! If he would only tell me his trouble, or give me an opening to +speak frankly about it, I might help him; but he finds it too horrible +to be uttered, and fancies himself the only mortal that ever felt the +anguish of remorse. Yes; he believes that nobody ever endured his agony +before; so that--sharp enough in itself--it has all the additional zest +of a torture just invented to plague him individually." + +The sculptor endeavored to dismiss the painful subject from his mind; +and, leaning against the battlements, he turned his face southward and +westward, and gazed across the breadth of the valley. His thoughts +flew far beyond even those wide boundaries, taking an air-line from +Donatello's tower to another turret that ascended into the sky of the +summer afternoon, invisibly to him, above the roofs of distant Rome. +Then rose tumultuously into his consciousness that strong love for +Hilda, which it was his habit to confine in one of the heart's inner +chambers, because he had found no encouragement to bring it forward. But +now he felt a strange pull at his heart-strings. It could not have been +more perceptible, if all the way between these battlements and Hilda's +dove-cote had stretched an exquisitely sensitive cord, which, at the +hither end, was knotted with his aforesaid heart-strings, and, at the +remoter one, was grasped by a gentle hand. His breath grew tremulous. He +put his hand to his breast; so distinctly did he seem to feel that cord +drawn once, and again, and again, as if--though still it was bashfully +intimated there were an importunate demand for his presence. O for the +white wings of Hilda's doves, that he might, have flown thither, and +alighted at the Virgin's shrine! + +But lovers, and Kenyon knew it well, project so lifelike a copy of +their mistresses out of their own imaginations, that it can pull at +the heartstrings almost as perceptibly as the genuine original. No airy +intimations are to be trusted; no evidences of responsive affection less +positive than whispered and broken words, or tender pressures of the +hand, allowed and half returned; or glances, that distil many passionate +avowals into one gleam of richly colored light. Even these should +be weighed rigorously, at the instant; for, in another instant, the +imagination seizes on them as its property, and stamps them with its +own arbitrary value. But Hilda's maidenly reserve had given her lover no +such tokens, to be interpreted either by his hopes or fears. + +"Yonder, over mountain and valley, lies Rome," said the sculptor; "shall +you return thither in the autumn?" + +"Never! I hate Rome," answered Donatello; "and have good cause." + +"And yet it was a pleasant winter that we spent there," observed +Kenyon, "and with pleasant friends about us. You would meet them again +there--all of them." + +"All?" asked Donatello. + +"All, to the best of my belief," said the sculptor: "but you need not go +to Rome to seek them. If there were one of those friends whose lifetime +was twisted with your own, I am enough of a fatalist to feel assured +that you will meet that one again, wander whither you may. Neither can +we escape the companions whom Providence assigns for us, by climbing an +old tower like this." + +"Yet the stairs are steep and dark," rejoined the Count; "none but +yourself would seek me here, or find me, if they sought." + +As Donatello did not take advantage of this opening which his friend had +kindly afforded him to pour out his hidden troubles, the latter again +threw aside the subject, and returned to the enjoyment of the scene +before him. The thunder-storm, which he had beheld striding across the +valley, had passed to the left of Monte Beni, and was continuing its +march towards the hills that formed the boundary on the eastward. +Above the whole valley, indeed, the sky was heavy with tumbling vapors, +interspersed with which were tracts of blue, vividly brightened by the +sun; but, in the east, where the tempest was yet trailing its ragged +skirts, lay a dusky region of cloud and sullen mist, in which some of +the hills appeared of a dark purple hue. Others became so indistinct, +that the spectator could not tell rocky height from impalpable cloud. +Far into this misty cloud region, however,--within the domain of chaos, +as it were,--hilltops were seen brightening in the sunshine; they looked +like fragments of the world, broken adrift and based on nothingness, +or like portions of a sphere destined to exist, but not yet finally +compacted. + +The sculptor, habitually drawing many of the images and illustrations +of his thoughts from the plastic art, fancied that the scene represented +the process of the Creator, when he held the new, imperfect earth in his +hand, and modelled it. + +"What a magic is in mist and vapor among the mountains!" he exclaimed. +"With their help, one single scene becomes a thousand. The cloud scenery +gives such variety to a hilly landscape that it would be worth while to +journalize its aspect from hour to hour. A cloud, however,--as I have +myself experienced,--is apt to grow solid and as heavy as a stone the +instant that you take in hand to describe it, But, in my own heart, +I have found great use in clouds. Such silvery ones as those to the +northward, for example, have often suggested sculpturesque groups, +figures, and attitudes; they are especially rich in attitudes of living +repose, which a sculptor only hits upon by the rarest good fortune. When +I go back to my dear native land, the clouds along the horizon will be +my only gallery of art!" + +"I can see cloud shapes, too," said Donatello; "yonder is one that +shifts strangely; it has been like people whom I knew. And now, if I +watch it a little longer, it will take the figure of a monk reclining, +with his cowl about his head and drawn partly over his face, and--well! +did I not tell you so?" + +"I think," remarked Kenyon, "we can hardly be gazing at the same cloud. +What I behold is a reclining figure, to be sure, but feminine, and with +a despondent air, wonderfully well expressed in the wavering outline +from head to foot. It moves my very heart by something indefinable that +it suggests." + +"I see the figure, and almost the face," said the Count; adding, in a +lower voice, "It is Miriam's!" + +"No, not Miriam's," answered the sculptor. While the two gazers thus +found their own reminiscences and presentiments floating among the +clouds, the day drew to its close, and now showed them the fair +spectacle of an Italian sunset. The sky was soft and bright, but not so +gorgeous as Kenyon had seen it, a thousand times, in America; for there +the western sky is wont to be set aflame with breadths and depths of +color with which poets seek in vain to dye their verses, and which +painters never dare to copy. As beheld from the tower of Monte Beni, the +scene was tenderly magnificent, with mild gradations of hue and a lavish +outpouring of gold, but rather such gold as we see on the leaf of a +bright flower than the burnished glow of metal from the mine. Or, if +metallic, it looked airy and unsubstantial, like the glorified dreams +of an alchemist. And speedily--more speedily than in our own clime--came +the twilight, and, brightening through its gray transparency, the stars. + +A swarm of minute insects that had been hovering all day round the +battlements were now swept away by the freshness of a rising breeze. +The two owls in the chamber beneath Donatello's uttered their soft +melancholy cry,--which, with national avoidance of harsh sounds, Italian +owls substitute for the hoot of their kindred in other countries,--and +flew darkling forth among the shrubbery. A convent bell rang out near at +hand, and was not only echoed among the hills, but answered by another +bell, and still another, which doubtless had farther and farther +responses, at various distances along the valley; for, like the English +drumbeat around the globe, there is a chain of convent bells from end +to end, and crosswise, and in all possible directions over priest-ridden +Italy. + +"Come," said the sculptor, "the evening air grows cool. It is time to +descend." + +"Time for you, my friend," replied the Count; and he hesitated a little +before adding, "I must keep a vigil here for some hours longer. It is my +frequent custom to keep vigils,--and sometimes the thought occurs to me +whether it were not better to keep them in yonder convent, the bell of +which just now seemed to summon me. Should I do wisely, do you think, to +exchange this old tower for a cell?" + +"What! Turn monk?" exclaimed his friend. "A horrible idea!" + +"True," said Donatello, sighing. "Therefore, if at all, I purpose doing +it." + +"Then think of it no more, for Heaven's sake!" cried the sculptor. +"There are a thousand better and more poignant methods of being +miserable than that, if to be miserable is what you wish. Nay; I +question whether a monk keeps himself up to the intellectual and +spiritual height which misery implies. A monk I judge from their sensual +physiognomies, which meet me at every turn--is inevitably a beast! Their +souls, if they have any to begin with, perish out of them, before their +sluggish, swinish existence is half done. Better, a million times, to +stand star-gazing on these airy battlements, than to smother your new +germ of a higher life in a monkish cell!" + +"You make me tremble," said Donatello, "by your bold aspersion of men +who have devoted themselves to God's service!" + +"They serve neither God nor man, and themselves least of all, though +their motives be utterly selfish," replied Kenyon. "Avoid the convent, +my dear friend, as you would shun the death of the soul! But, for my own +part, if I had an insupportable burden,--if, for any cause, I were +bent upon sacrificing every earthly hope as a peace-offering towards +Heaven,--I would make the wide world my cell, and good deeds to mankind +my prayer. Many penitent men have done this, and found peace in it." + +"Ah, but you are a heretic!" said the Count. + +Yet his face brightened beneath the stars; and, looking at it through +the twilight, the sculptor's remembrance went back to that scene in the +Capitol, where, both in features and expression, Donatello had seemed +identical with the Faun. And still there was a resemblance; for now, +when first the idea was suggested of living for the welfare of his +fellow-creatures, the original beauty, which sorrow had partly effaced, +came back elevated and spiritualized. In the black depths the Faun had +found a soul, and was struggling with it towards the light of heaven. + +The illumination, it is true, soon faded out of Donatello's face. The +idea of lifelong and unselfish effort was too high to be received by +him with more than a momentary comprehension. An Italian, indeed, +seldom dreams of being philanthropic, except in bestowing alms among the +paupers, who appeal to his beneficence at every step; nor does it +occur to him that there are fitter modes of propitiating Heaven than +by penances, pilgrimages, and offerings at shrines. Perhaps, too, their +system has its share of moral advantages; they, at all events, cannot +well pride themselves, as our own more energetic benevolence is apt to +do, upon sharing in the counsels of Providence and kindly helping out +its otherwise impracticable designs. + +And now the broad valley twinkled with lights, that glimmered through +its duskiness like the fireflies in the garden of a Florentine palace. A +gleam of lightning from the rear of the tempest showed the circumference +of hills and the great space between, as the last cannon-flash of a +retreating army reddens across the field where it has fought. The +sculptor was on the point of descending the turret stair, when, +somewhere in the darkness that lay beneath them, a woman's voice was +heard, singing a low, sad strain. + +"Hark!" said he, laying his hand on Donatello's arm. + +And Donatello had said "Hark!" at the same instant. + +The song, if song it could be called, that had only a wild rhythm, and +flowed forth in the fitful measure of a wind-harp, did not clothe itself +in the sharp brilliancy of the Italian tongue. The words, so far as they +could be distinguished, were German, and therefore unintelligible to the +Count, and hardly less so to the sculptor; being softened and molten, +as it were, into the melancholy richness of the voice that sung them. It +was as the murmur of a soul bewildered amid the sinful gloom of earth, +and retaining only enough memory of a better state to make sad music +of the wail, which would else have been a despairing shriek. Never was +there profounder pathos than breathed through that mysterious voice; +it brought the tears into the sculptor's eyes, with remembrances and +forebodings of whatever sorrow he had felt or apprehended; it made +Donatello sob, as chiming in with the anguish that he found unutterable, +and giving it the expression which he vaguely sought. + +But, when the emotion was at its profoundest depth, the voice rose out +of it, yet so gradually that a gloom seemed to pervade it, far upward +from the abyss, and not entirely to fall away as it ascended into a +higher and purer region. At last, the auditors would have fancied that +the melody, with its rich sweetness all there, and much of its sorrow +gone, was floating around the very summit of the tower. + +"Donatello," said the sculptor, when there was silence again, "had that +voice no message for your ear?" + +"I dare not receive it," said Donatello; "the anguish of which it spoke +abides with me: the hope dies away with the breath that brought it +hither. It is not good for me to hear that voice." + +The sculptor sighed, and left the poor penitent keeping his vigil on the +tower. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +DONATELLO'S BUST + + +Kenyon, it will be remembered, had asked Donatello's permission to model +his bust. The work had now made considerable progress, and necessarily +kept the sculptor's thoughts brooding much and often upon his host's +personal characteristics. These it was his difficult office to bring out +from their depths, and interpret them to all men, showing them what they +could not discern for themselves, yet must be compelled to recognize at +a glance, on the surface of a block of marble. + +He had never undertaken a portrait-bust which gave him so much trouble +as Donatello's; not that there was any special difficulty in hitting +the likeness, though even in this respect the grace and harmony of +the features seemed inconsistent with a prominent expression of +individuality; but he was chiefly perplexed how to make this genial and +kind type of countenance the index of the mind within. His acuteness and +his sympathies, indeed, were both somewhat at fault in their efforts +to enlighten him as to the moral phase through which the Count was now +passing. If at one sitting he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a +genuine and permanent trait, it would probably be less perceptible on +a second occasion, and perhaps have vanished entirely at a third. So +evanescent a show of character threw the sculptor into despair; not +marble or clay, but cloud and vapor, was the material in which it +ought to be represented. Even the ponderous depression which constantly +weighed upon Donatello's heart could not compel him into the kind of +repose which the plastic art requires. + +Hopeless of a good result, Kenyon gave up all preconceptions about the +character of his subject, and let his hands work uncontrolled with the +clay, somewhat as a spiritual medium, while holding a pen, yields it +to an unseen guidance other than that of her own will. Now and then he +fancied that this plan was destined to be the successful one. A skill +and insight beyond his consciousness seemed occasionally to take up the +task. The mystery, the miracle, of imbuing an inanimate substance +with thought, feeling, and all the intangible attributes of the soul, +appeared on the verge of being wrought. And now, as he flattered +himself, the true image of his friend was about to emerge from the +facile material, bringing with it more of Donatello's character than +the keenest observer could detect at any one moment in the face of the +original Vain expectation!--some touch, whereby the artist thought to +improve or hasten the result, interfered with the design of his unseen +spiritual assistant, and spoilt the whole. There was still the moist, +brown clay, indeed, and the features of Donatello, but without any +semblance of intelligent and sympathetic life. + +"The difficulty will drive me mad, I verily believe!" cried the sculptor +nervously. "Look at the wretched piece of work yourself, my dear friend, +and tell me whether you recognize any manner of likeness to your inner +man?" + +"None," replied Donatello, speaking the simple truth. "It is like +looking a stranger in the face." + +This frankly unfavorable testimony so wrought with the sensitive artist, +that he fell into a passion with the stubborn image, and cared not what +might happen to it thenceforward. Wielding that wonderful power which +sculptors possess over moist clay, however refractory it may show itself +in certain respects, he compressed, elongated, widened, and otherwise +altered the features of the bust in mere recklessness, and at every +change inquired of the Count whether the expression became anywise more +satisfactory. + +"Stop!" cried Donatello at last, catching the sculptor's hand. "Let +it remain so!" By some accidental handling of the clay, entirely +independent of his own will, Kenyon had given the countenance a +distorted and violent look, combining animal fierceness with intelligent +hatred. Had Hilda, or had Miriam, seen the bust, with the expression +which it had now assumed, they might have recognized Donatello's face as +they beheld it at that terrible moment when he held his victim over the +edge of the precipice. + +"What have I done?" said the sculptor, shocked at his own casual +production. "It were a sin to let the clay which bears your features +harden into a look like that. Cain never wore an uglier one." + +"For that very reason, let it remain!" answered the Count, who had grown +pale as ashes at the aspect of his crime, thus strangely presented to +him in another of the many guises under which guilt stares the criminal +in the face. "Do not alter it! Chisel it, rather, in eternal marble! +I will set it up in my oratory and keep it continually before my eyes. +Sadder and more horrible is a face like this, alive with my own crime, +than the dead skull which my forefathers handed down to me!" + +But, without in the least heeding Donatello's remonstrances, the +sculptor again applied his artful fingers to the clay, and compelled the +bust to dismiss the expression that had so startled them both. + +"Believe me," said he, turning his eyes upon his friend, full of grave +and tender sympathy, "you know not what is requisite for your spiritual +growth, seeking, as you do, to keep your soul perpetually in the +unwholesome region of remorse. It was needful for you to pass through +that dark valley, but it is infinitely dangerous to linger there too +long; there is poison in the atmosphere, when we sit down and brood in +it, instead of girding up our loins to press onward. Not despondency, +not slothful anguish, is what you now require,--but effort! Has there +been an unalterable evil in your young life? Then crowd it out with +good, or it will lie corrupting there forever, and cause your capacity +for better things to partake its noisome corruption!" + +"You stir up many thoughts," said Donatello, pressing his hand upon his +brow, "but the multitude and the whirl of them make me dizzy." + +They now left the sculptor's temporary studio, without observing that +his last accidental touches, with which he hurriedly effaced the look of +deadly rage, had given the bust a higher and sweeter expression than it +had hitherto worn. It is to be regretted that Kenyon had not seen +it; for only an artist, perhaps, can conceive the irksomeness, the +irritation of brain, the depression of spirits, that resulted from his +failure to satisfy himself, after so much toil and thought as he had +bestowed on Donatello's bust. In case of success, indeed, all this +thoughtful toil would have been reckoned, not only as well bestowed, +but as among the happiest hours of his life; whereas, deeming himself to +have failed, it was just so much of life that had better never have +been lived; for thus does the good or ill result of his labor throw back +sunshine or gloom upon the artist's mind. The sculptor, therefore, would +have done well to glance again at his work; for here were still the +features of the antique Faun, but now illuminated with a higher meaning, +such as the old marble never bore. + +Donatello having quitted him, Kenyon spent the rest of the day strolling +about the pleasant precincts of Monte Beni, where the summer was now +so far advanced that it began, indeed, to partake of the ripe wealth of +autumn. Apricots had long been abundant, and had passed away, and plums +and cherries along with them. But now came great, juicy pears, melting +and delicious, and peaches of goodly size and tempting aspect, though +cold and watery to the palate, compared with the sculptor's rich +reminiscences of that fruit in America. The purple figs had already +enjoyed their day, and the white ones were luscious now. The contadini +(who, by this time, knew Kenyon well) found many clusters of ripe grapes +for him, in every little globe of which was included a fragrant draught +of the sunny Monte Beni wine. + +Unexpectedly, in a nook close by the farmhouse, he happened upon a spot +where the vintage had actually commenced. A great heap of early ripened +grapes had been gathered, and thrown into a mighty tub. In the middle +of it stood a lusty and jolly contadino, nor stood, merely, but stamped +with all his might, and danced amain; while the red juice bathed his +feet, and threw its foam midway up his brown and shaggy legs. Here, +then, was the very process that shows so picturesquely in Scripture +and in poetry, of treading out the wine-press and dyeing the feet and +garments with the crimson effusion as with the blood of a battlefield. +The memory of the process does not make the Tuscan wine taste more +deliciously. The contadini hospitably offered Kenyon a sample of the new +liquor, that had already stood fermenting for a day or two. He had tried +a similar draught, however, in years past, and was little inclined to +make proof of it again; for he knew that it would be a sour and bitter +juice, a wine of woe and tribulation, and that the more a man drinks of +such liquor, the sorrier he is likely to be. + +The scene reminded the sculptor of our New England vintages, where the +big piles of golden and rosy apples lie under the orchard trees, in the +mild, autumnal sunshine; and the creaking cider-mill, set in motion by +a circumgyratory horse, is all a-gush with the luscious juice. To speak +frankly, the cider-making is the more picturesque sight of the two, +and the new, sweet cider an infinitely better drink than the ordinary, +unripe Tuscan wine. Such as it is, however, the latter fills thousands +upon thousands of small, flat barrels, and, still growing thinner and +sharper, loses the little life it had, as wine, and becomes apotheosized +as a more praiseworthy vinegar. + +Yet all these vineyard scenes, and the processes connected with the +culture of the grape, had a flavor of poetry about them. The toil that +produces those kindly gifts of nature which are not the substance of +life, but its luxury, is unlike other toil. We are inclined to fancy +that it does not bend the sturdy frame and stiffen the overwrought +muscles, like the labor that is devoted in sad, hard earnest to +raise grain for sour bread. Certainly, the sunburnt young men and +dark-cheeked, laughing girls, who weeded the rich acres of Monte Beni, +might well enough have passed for inhabitants of an unsophisticated +Arcadia. Later in the season, when the true vintage time should come, +and the wine of Sunshine gush into the vats, it was hardly too wild a +dream that Bacchus himself might revisit the haunts which he loved of +old. But, alas! where now would he find the Faun with whom we see him +consorting in so many an antique group? + +Donatello's remorseful anguish saddened this primitive and delightful +life. Kenyon had a pain of his own, moreover, although not all a pain, +in the never quiet, never satisfied yearning of his heart towards Hilda. +He was authorized to use little freedom towards that shy maiden, even +in his visions; so that he almost reproached himself when sometimes his +imagination pictured in detail the sweet years that they might spend +together, in a retreat like this. It had just that rarest quality of +remoteness from the actual and ordinary world B a remoteness +through which all delights might visit them freely, sifted from all +troubles--which lovers so reasonably insist upon, in their ideal +arrangements for a happy union. It is possible, indeed, that even +Donatello's grief and Kenyon's pale, sunless affection lent a charm +to Monte Beni, which it would not have retained amid a more abundant +joyousness. The sculptor strayed amid its vineyards and orchards, +its dells and tangled shrubberies, with somewhat the sensations of an +adventurer who should find his way to the site of ancient Eden, and +behold its loveliness through the transparency of that gloom which has +been brooding over those haunts of innocence ever since the fall. Adam +saw it in a brighter sunshine, but never knew the shade of Pensive +beauty which Eden won from his expulsion. + +It was in the decline of the afternoon that Kenyon returned from his +long, musing ramble, Old Tomaso--between whom and himself for some time +past there had been a mysterious understanding,--met him in the entrance +hall, and drew him a little aside. + +"The signorina would speak with you," he whispered. + +"In the chapel?" asked the sculptor. + +"No; in the saloon beyond it," answered the butler: "the entrance you +once saw the signorina appear through it is near the altar, hidden +behind the tapestry." + +Kenyon lost no time in obeying the summons. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +THE MARBLE SALOON + + +In an old Tuscan villa, a chapel ordinarily makes one among the numerous +apartments; though it often happens that the door is permanently closed, +the key lost, and the place left to itself, in dusty sanctity, like that +chamber in man's heart where he hides his religious awe. This was very +much the case with the chapel of Monte Beni. One rainy day, however, +in his wanderings through the great, intricate house, Kenyon had +unexpectedly found his way into it, and been impressed by its solemn +aspect. The arched windows, high upward in the wall, and darkened with +dust and cobweb, threw down a dim light that showed the altar, with a +picture of a martyrdom above, and some tall tapers ranged before it. +They had apparently been lighted, and burned an hour or two, and been +extinguished perhaps half a century before. The marble vase at the +entrance held some hardened mud at the bottom, accruing from the dust +that had settled in it during the gradual evaporation of the holy water; +and a spider (being an insect that delights in pointing the moral of +desolation and neglect) had taken pains to weave a prodigiously thick +tissue across the circular brim. An old family banner, tattered by +the moths, drooped from the vaulted roof. In niches there were some +mediaeval busts of Donatello's forgotten ancestry; and among them, it +might be, the forlorn visage of that hapless knight between whom and the +fountain-nymph had occurred such tender love passages. + +Throughout all the jovial prosperity of Monte Beni, this one spot within +the domestic walls had kept itself silent, stern, and sad. When the +individual or the family retired from song and mirth, they here sought +those realities which men do not invite their festive associates to +share. And here, on the occasion above referred to, the sculptor had +discovered--accidentally, so far as he was concerned, though with a +purpose on her part--that there was a guest under Donatello's roof, +whose presence the Count did not suspect. An interview had since taken +place, and he was now summoned to another. + +He crossed the chapel, in compliance with Tomaso's instructions, and, +passing through the side entrance, found himself in a saloon, of no +great size, but more magnificent than he had supposed the villa to +contain. As it was vacant, Kenyon had leisure to pace it once or twice, +and examine it with a careless sort of scrutiny, before any person +appeared. + +This beautiful hall was floored with rich marbles, in artistically +arranged figures and compartments. The walls, likewise, were almost +entirely cased in marble of various kinds, the prevalent, variety +being giallo antico, intermixed with verd-antique, and others equally +precious. The splendor of the giallo antico, however, was what gave +character to the saloon; and the large and deep niches, apparently +intended for full length statues, along the walls, were lined with the +same costly material. Without visiting Italy, one can have no idea of +the beauty and magnificence that are produced by these fittings-up of +polished marble. Without such experience, indeed, we do not even know +what marble means, in any sense, save as the white limestone of which +we carve our mantelpieces. This rich hall of Monte Beni, moreover, was +adorned, at its upper end, with two pillars that seemed to consist of +Oriental alabaster; and wherever there was a space vacant of precious +and variegated marble, it was frescoed with ornaments in arabesque. +Above, there was a coved and vaulted ceiling, glowing with pictured +scenes, which affected Kenyon with a vague sense of splendor, without +his twisting his neck to gaze at them. + +It is one of the special excellences of such a saloon of polished and +richly colored marble, that decay can never tarnish it. Until the house +crumbles down upon it, it shines indestructibly, and, with a little +dusting, looks just as brilliant in its three hundredth year as the day +after the final slab of giallo antico was fitted into the wall. To the +sculptor, at this first View of it, it seemed a hall where the sun was +magically imprisoned, and must always shine. He anticipated Miriam's +entrance, arrayed in queenly robes, and beaming with even more than the +singular beauty that had heretofore distinguished her. + +While this thought was passing through his mind, the pillared door, at +the upper end of the saloon, was partly opened, and Miriam appeared. She +was very pale, and dressed in deep mourning. As she advanced towards the +sculptor, the feebleness of her step was so apparent that he made haste +to meet her, apprehending that she might sink down on the marble floor, +without the instant support of his arm. + +But, with a gleam of her natural self-reliance, she declined his aid, +and, after touching her cold hand to his, went and sat down on one of +the cushioned divans that were ranged against the wall. + +"You are very ill, Miriam!" said Kenyon, much shocked at her appearance. +"I had not thought of this." + +"No; not so ill as I seem to you," she answered; adding despondently, +"yet I am ill enough, I believe, to die, unless some change speedily +occurs." + +"What, then, is your disorder?" asked the sculptor; "and what the +remedy?" + +"The disorder!" repeated Miriam. "There is none that I know of save too +much life and strength, without a purpose for one or the other. It is +my too redundant energy that is slowly--or perhaps rapidly--wearing me +away, because I can apply it to no use. The object, which I am bound to +consider my only one on earth, fails me utterly. The sacrifice which I +yearn to make of myself, my hopes, my everything, is coldly put aside. +Nothing is left for me but to brood, brood, brood, all day, all night, +in unprofitable longings and repinings." + +"This is very sad, Miriam," said Kenyon. + +"Ay, indeed; I fancy so," she replied, with a short, unnatural laugh. + +"With all your activity of mind," resumed he, "so fertile in plans as +I have known you, can you imagine no method of bringing your resources +into play?" + +"My mind is not active any longer," answered Miriam, in a cold, +indifferent tone. "It deals with one thought and no more. One +recollection paralyzes it. It is not remorse; do not think it! I put +myself out of the question, and feel neither regret nor penitence on +my own behalf. But what benumbs me, what robs me of all power,-it is +no secret for a woman to tell a man, yet I care not though you know it, +--is the certainty that I am, and must ever be, an object of horror in +Donatello's sight." + +The sculptor--a young man, and cherishing a love which insulated +him from the wild experiences which some men gather--was startled to +perceive how Miriam's rich, ill-regulated nature impelled her to +fling herself, conscience and all, on one passion, the object of which +intellectually seemed far beneath her. + +"How have you obtained the certainty of which you speak?" asked he, +after a pause. + +"O, by a sure token," said Miriam; "a gesture, merely; a shudder, a cold +shiver, that ran through him one sunny morning when his hand happened to +touch mine! But it was enough." + +"I firmly believe, Miriam," said the sculptor, "that he loves you +still." + +She started, and a flush of color came tremulously over the paleness of +her cheek. + +"Yes," repeated Kenyon, "if my interest in Donatello--and in yourself, +Miriam--endows me with any true insight, he not only loves you still, +but with a force and depth proportioned to the stronger grasp of his +faculties, in their new development." + +"Do not deceive me," said Miriam, growing pale again. + +"Not for the world!" replied Kenyon. "Here is what I take to be +the truth. There was an interval, no doubt, when the horror of some +calamity, which I need not shape out in my conjectures, threw Donatello +into a stupor of misery. Connected with the first shock there was an +intolerable pain and shuddering repugnance attaching themselves to +all the circumstances and surroundings of the event that so terribly +affected him. Was his dearest friend involved within the horror of that +moment? He would shrink from her as he shrank most of all from himself. +But as his mind roused itself,--as it rose to a higher life than he had +hitherto experienced,--whatever had been true and permanent within him +revived by the selfsame impulse. So has it been with his love." + +"But, surely," said Miriam, "he knows that I am here! Why, then, except +that I am odious to him, does he not bid me welcome?" + +"He is, I believe, aware of your presence here," answered the sculptor. +"Your song, a night or two ago, must have revealed it to him, and, in +truth, I had fancied that there was already a consciousness of it in +his mind. But, the more passionately he longs for your society, the more +religiously he deems himself bound to avoid it. The idea of a lifelong +penance has taken strong possession of Donatello. He gropes blindly +about him for some method of sharp self-torture, and finds, of course, +no other so efficacious as this." + +"But he loves me," repeated Miriam, in a low voice, to herself. "Yes; he +loves me!" + +It was strange to observe the womanly softness that came over her, +as she admitted that comfort into her bosom. The cold, unnatural +indifference of her manner, a kind of frozen passionateness which had +shocked and chilled the sculptor, disappeared. She blushed, and turned +away her eyes, knowing that there was more surprise and joy in their +dewy glances than any man save one ought to detect there. + +"In other respects," she inquired at length, "is he much changed?" + +"A wonderful process is going forward in Donatello's mind," answered the +sculptor. "The germs of faculties that have heretofore slept are fast +springing into activity. The world of thought is disclosing itself to +his inward sight. He startles me, at times, with his perception of deep +truths; and, quite as often, it must be owned, he compels me to smile by +the intermixture of his former simplicity with a new intelligence. But +he is bewildered with the revelations that each day brings. Out of +his bitter agony, a soul and intellect, I could almost say, have been +inspired into him." + +"Ah, I could help him here!" cried Miriam, clasping her hands. "And +how sweet a toil to bend and adapt my whole nature to do him good! To +instruct, to elevate, to enrich his mind with the wealth that would flow +in upon me, had I such a motive for acquiring it! Who else can perform +the task? Who else has the tender sympathy which he requires? Who else, +save only me,--a woman, a sharer in the same dread secret, a partaker in +one identical guilt,--could meet him on such terms of intimate equality +as the case demands? With this object before me, I might feel a right to +live! Without it, it is a shame for me to have lived so long." + +"I fully agree with you," said Kenyon, "that your true place is by his +side." + +"Surely it is," replied Miriam. "If Donatello is entitled to aught on +earth, it is to my complete self-sacrifice for his sake. It does not +weaken his claim, methinks, that my only prospect of happiness a +fearful word, however lies in the good that may accrue to him from our +intercourse. But he rejects me! He will not listen to the whisper of his +heart, telling him that she, most wretched, who beguiled him into evil, +might guide him to a higher innocence than that from which he fell. How +is this first great difficulty to be obviated?" + +"It lies at your own option, Miriam, to do away the obstacle, at any +moment," remarked the sculptor. "It is but to ascend Donatello's tower, +and you will meet him there, under the eye of God." + +"I dare not," answered Miriam. "No; I dare not!" + +"Do you fear," asked the sculptor, "the dread eye-witness whom I have +named?" + +"No; for, as far as I can see into that cloudy and inscrutable thing, my +heart, it has none but pure motives," replied Miriam. "But, my friend, +you little know what a weak or what a strong creature a woman is! I +fear not Heaven, in this case, at least, but--shall I confess it? I +am greatly in dread of Donatello. Once he shuddered at my touch. If he +shudder once again, or frown, I die!" + +Kenyon could not but marvel at the subjection into which this proud and +self-dependent woman had willfully flung herself, hanging her life upon +the chance of an angry or favorable regard from a person who, a little +while before, had seemed the plaything of a moment. But, in Miriam's +eyes, Donatello was always, thenceforth, invested with the tragic +dignity of their hour of crime; and, furthermore, the keen and deep +insight, with which her love endowed her, enabled her to know him +far better than he could be known by ordinary observation. Beyond all +question, since she loved him so, there was a force in Donatello worthy +of her respect and love. + +"You see my weakness," said Miriam, flinging out her hands, as a person +does when a defect is acknowledged, and beyond remedy. "What I need, +now, is an opportunity to show my strength." + +"It has occurred to me," Kenyon remarked, "that the time is come when +it may be desirable to remove Donatello from the complete seclusion in +which he buries himself. He has struggled long enough with one idea. +He now needs a variety of thought, which cannot be otherwise so readily +supplied to him, as through the medium of a variety of scenes. His mind +is awakened, now; his heart, though full of pain, is no longer benumbed. +They should have food and solace. If he linger here much longer, I fear +that he may sink back into a lethargy. The extreme excitability, which +circumstances have imparted to his moral system, has its dangers and +its advantages; it being one of the dangers, that an obdurate scar may +supervene upon its very tenderness. Solitude has done what it could for +him; now, for a while, let him be enticed into the outer world." + +"What is your plan, then?" asked Miriam. + +"Simply," replied Kenyon, "to persuade Donatello to be my companion in +a ramble among these hills and valleys. The little adventures and +vicissitudes of travel will do him infinite good. After his recent +profound experience, he will re-create the world by the new eyes with +which he will regard it. He will escape, I hope, out of a morbid life, +and find his way into a healthy one." + +"And what is to be my part in this process?" inquired Miriam sadly, and +not without jealousy. "You are taking him from me, and putting yourself, +and all manner of living interests, into the place which I ought to +fill!" + +"It would rejoice me, Miriam, to yield the entire responsibility of this +office to yourself," answered the sculptor. "I do not pretend to be +the guide and counsellor whom Donatello needs; for, to mention no +other obstacle, I am a man, and between man and man there is always an +insuperable gulf. They can never quite grasp each other's hands; and +therefore man never derives any intimate help, any heart sustenance, +from his brother man, but from woman--his mother, his sister, or his +wife. Be Donatello's friend at need, therefore, and most gladly will I +resign him!" + +"It is not kind to taunt me thus," said Miriam. "I have told you that I +cannot do what you suggest, because I dare not." + +"Well, then," rejoined the sculptor, "see if there is any possibility of +adapting yourself to my scheme. The incidents of a journey often fling +people together in the oddest and therefore the most natural way. +Supposing you were to find yourself on the same route, a reunion with +Donatello might ensue, and Providence have a larger hand in it than +either of us." + +"It is not a hopeful plan," said Miriam, shaking her head, after a +moment's thought; "yet I will not reject it without a trial. Only in +case it fail, here is a resolution to which I bind myself, come what +come may! You know the bronze statue of Pope Julius in the great square +of Perugia? I remember standing in the shadow of that statue one sunny +noontime, and being impressed by its paternal aspect, and fancying that +a blessing fell upon me from its outstretched hand. Ever since, I have +had a superstition, you will call it foolish, but sad and ill-fated +persons always dream such things,--that, if I waited long enough in +that same spot, some good event would come to pass. Well, my friend, +precisely a fortnight after you begin your tour,--unless we sooner +meet,--bring Donatello, at noon, to the base of the statue. You will +find me there!" + +Kenyon assented to the proposed arrangement, and, after some +conversation respecting his contemplated line of travel, prepared to +take his leave. As he met Miriam's eyes, in bidding farewell, he was +surprised at the new, tender gladness that beamed out of them, and at +the appearance of health and bloom, which, in this little while, had +overspread her face.' + +"May I tell you, Miriam," said he, smiling, "that you are still as +beautiful as ever?" + +"You have a right to notice it," she replied, "for, if it be so, my +faded bloom has been revived by the hopes you give me. Do you, then, +think me beautiful? I rejoice, most truly. Beauty--if I possess +it--shall be one of the instruments by which I will try to educate and +elevate him, to whose good I solely dedicate myself." + +The sculptor had nearly reached the door, when, hearing her call him, he +turned back, and beheld Miriam still standing where he had left her, in +the magnificent hall which seemed only a fit setting for her beauty. She +beckoned him to return. + +"You are a man of refined taste," said she; "more than that,--a man of +delicate sensibility. Now tell me frankly, and on your honor! Have I not +shocked you many times during this interview by my betrayal of woman's +cause, my lack of feminine modesty, my reckless, passionate, most +indecorous avowal, that I live only in the life of one who, perhaps, +scorns and shudders at me?" + +Thus adjured, however difficult the point to which she brought him, the +sculptor was not a man to swerve aside from the simple truth. + +"Miriam," replied he, "you exaggerate the impression made upon my +mind; but it has been painful, and somewhat of the character which you +suppose." + +"I knew it," said Miriam, mournfully, and with no resentment. "What +remains of my finer nature would have told me so, even if it had not +been perceptible in all your manner. Well, my dear friend, when you +go back to Rome, tell Hilda what her severity has done! She was all +womanhood to me; and when she cast me off, I had no longer any terms to +keep with the reserves and decorums of my sex. Hilda has set me free! +Pray tell her so, from Miriam, and thank her!" + +"I shall tell Hilda nothing that will give her pain," answered Kenyon. +"But, Miriam, though I know not what passed between her and yourself, I +feel,--and let the noble frankness of your disposition forgive me if +I say so,--I feel that she was right. You have a thousand admirable +qualities. Whatever mass of evil may have fallen into your life, +--pardon me, but your own words suggest it,--you are still as capable +as ever of many high and heroic virtues. But the white shining purity +of Hilda's nature is a thing apart; and she is bound, by the undefiled +material of which God moulded her, to keep that severity which I, as +well as you, have recognized." + +"O, you are right!" said Miriam; "I never questioned it; though, as +I told you, when she cast me off, it severed some few remaining bonds +between me and decorous womanhood. But were there anything to forgive, I +do forgive her. May you win her virgin heart; for methinks there can +be few men in this evil world who are not more unworthy of her than +yourself." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +SCENES BY THE WAY + + +When it came to the point of quitting the reposeful life of Monte Beni, +the sculptor was not without regrets, and would willingly have dreamed a +little longer of the sweet paradise on earth that Hilda's presence +there might make. Nevertheless, amid all its repose, he had begun to be +sensible of a restless melancholy, to which the cultivators of the ideal +arts are more liable than sturdier men. On his own part, therefore, and +leaving Donatello out of the case, he would have judged it well to go. +He made parting visits to the legendary dell, and to other delightful +spots with which he had grown familiar; he climbed the tower again, and +saw a sunset and a moonrise over the great valley; he drank, on the +eve of his departure, one flask, and then another, of the Monte Beni +Sunshine, and stored up its flavor in his memory as the standard of what +is exquisite in wine. These things accomplished, Kenyon was ready for +the journey. + +Donatello had not very easily been stirred out of the peculiar +sluggishness, which enthralls and bewitches melancholy people. He had +offered merely a passive resistance, however, not an active one, to his +friend's schemes; and when the appointed hour came, he yielded to the +impulse which Kenyon failed not to apply; and was started upon the +journey before he had made up his mind to undertake it. They wandered +forth at large, like two knights-errant, among the valleys, and the +mountains, and the old mountain towns of that picturesque and +lovely region. Save to keep the appointment with Miriam, a fortnight +thereafter, in the great square of Perugia, there was nothing more +definite in the sculptor's plan than that they should let themselves +be blown hither and thither like Winged seeds, that mount upon each +wandering breeze. Yet there was an idea of fatality implied in the +simile of the winged seeds which did not altogether suit Kenyon's fancy; +for, if you look closely into the matter, it will be seen that whatever +appears most vagrant, and utterly purposeless, turns out, in the end, +to have been impelled the most surely on a preordained and unswerving +track. Chance and change love to deal with men's settled plans, not with +their idle vagaries. If we desire unexpected and unimaginable events, +we should contrive an iron framework, such as we fancy may compel the +future to take one inevitable shape; then comes in the unexpected, and +shatters our design in fragments. + +The travellers set forth on horseback, and purposed to perform much of +their aimless journeyings under the moon, and in the cool of the morning +or evening twilight; the midday sun, while summer had hardly begun to +trail its departing skirts over Tuscany, being still too fervid to allow +of noontide exposure. + +For a while, they wandered in that same broad valley which Kenyon had +viewed with such delight from the Monte Beni tower. The sculptor soon +began to enjoy the idle activity of their new life, which the lapse of +a day or two sufficed to establish as a kind of system; it is so natural +for mankind to be nomadic, that a very little taste of that primitive +mode of existence subverts the settled habits of many preceding years. +Kenyon's cares, and whatever gloomy ideas before possessed him, seemed +to be left at Monte Beni, and were scarcely remembered by the time +that its gray tower grew undistinguishable on the brown hillside. His +perceptive faculties, which had found little exercise of late, amid so +thoughtful a way of life, became keen, and kept his eyes busy with a +hundred agreeable scenes. + +He delighted in the picturesque bits of rustic character and manners, so +little of which ever comes upon the surface of our life at home. There, +for example, were the old women, tending pigs or sheep by the wayside. +As they followed the vagrant steps of their charge, these venerable +ladies kept spinning yarn with that elsewhere forgotten contrivance, +the distaff; and so wrinkled and stern looking were they, that you might +have taken them for the Parcae, spinning the threads of human destiny. +In contrast with their great-grandmothers were the children, leading +goats of shaggy beard, tied by the horns, and letting them browse on +branch and shrub. It is the fashion of Italy to add the petty industry +of age and childhood to the hum of human toil. To the eyes of an +observer from the Western world, it was a strange spectacle to see +sturdy, sunburnt creatures, in petticoats, but otherwise manlike, +toiling side by side with male laborers, in the rudest work of the +fields. These sturdy women (if as such we must recognize them) wore the +high-crowned, broad brimmed hat of Tuscan straw, the customary female +head-apparel; and, as every breeze blew back its breadth of brim, the +sunshine constantly added depth to the brown glow of their cheeks. The +elder sisterhood, however, set off their witch-like ugliness to the +worst advantage with black felt hats, bequeathed them, one would fancy, +by their long-buried husbands. + +Another ordinary sight, as sylvan as the above and more agreeable, was +a girl, bearing on her back a huge bundle of green twigs and shrubs, +or grass, intermixed with scarlet poppies and blue flowers; the verdant +burden being sometimes of such size as to hide the bearer's figure, and +seem a self-moving mass of fragrant bloom and verdure. Oftener, however, +the bundle reached only halfway down the back of the rustic nymph, +leaving in sight her well-developed lower limbs, and the crooked knife, +hanging behind her, with which she had been reaping this strange +harvest sheaf. A pre-Raphaelite artist (he, for instance, who painted +so marvellously a wind-swept heap of autumnal leaves) might find an +admirable subject in one of these Tuscan girls, stepping with a free, +erect, and graceful carriage. The miscellaneous herbage and tangled +twigs and blossoms of her bundle, crowning her head (while her ruddy, +comely face looks out between the hanging side festoons like a +larger flower), would give the painter boundless scope for the minute +delineation which he loves. + +Though mixed up with what was rude and earthlike, there was still a +remote, dreamlike, Arcadian charm, which is scarcely to be found in the +daily toil of other lands. Among the pleasant features of the wayside +were always the vines, clambering on fig-trees, or other sturdy trunks; +they wreathed themselves in huge and rich festoons from one tree to +another, suspending clusters of ripening grapes in the interval between. +Under such careless mode of culture, the luxuriant vine is a lovelier +spectacle than where it produces a more precious liquor, and is +therefore more artificially restrained and trimmed. Nothing can be +more picturesque than an old grapevine, with almost a trunk of its own, +clinging fast around its supporting tree. Nor does the picture lack its +moral. You might twist it to more than one grave purpose, as you saw how +the knotted, serpentine growth imprisoned within its strong embrace +the friend that had supported its tender infancy; and how (as seemingly +flexible natures are prone to do) it converted the sturdier tree +entirely to its own selfish ends, extending its innumerable arms on +every bough, and permitting hardly a leaf to sprout except its own. It +occurred to Kenyon, that the enemies of the vine, in his native land, +might here have seen an emblem of the remorseless gripe, which the habit +of vinous enjoyment lays upon its victim, possessing him wholly, and +letting him live no life but such as it bestows. + +The scene was not less characteristic when their path led the two +wanderers through some small, ancient town. There, besides the +peculiarities of present life, they saw tokens of the life that had long +ago been lived and flung aside. The little town, such as we see in our +mind's eye, would have its gate and its surrounding walls, so ancient +and massive that ages had not sufficed to crumble them away; but in the +lofty upper portion of the gateway, still standing over the empty arch, +where there was no longer a gate to shut, there would be a dove-cote, +and peaceful doves for the only warders. Pumpkins lay ripening in the +open chambers of the structure. Then, as for the town wall, on the +outside an orchard extends peacefully along its base, full, not of +apple-trees, but of those old humorists with gnarled trunks and twisted +boughs, the olives. Houses have been built upon the ramparts, or +burrowed out of their ponderous foundation. Even the gray, martial +towers, crowned with ruined turrets, have been converted into rustic +habitations, from the windows of which hang ears of Indian corn. At a +door, that has been broken through the massive stonework where it +was meant to be strongest, some contadini are winnowing grain. Small +windows, too, are pierced through the whole line of ancient wall, so +that it seems a row of dwellings with one continuous front, built in a +strange style of needless strength; but remnants of the old battlements +and machicolations are interspersed with the homely chambers and +earthen-tiled housetops; and all along its extent both grapevines and +running flower-shrubs are encouraged to clamber and sport over the +roughness of its decay. + +Finally the long grass, intermixed with weeds and wild flowers, waves +on the uppermost height of the shattered rampart; and it is exceedingly +pleasant in the golden sunshine of the afternoon to behold the warlike +precinct so friendly in its old days, and so overgrown with rural +peace. In its guard rooms, its prison chambers, and scooped out of its +ponderous breadth, there are dwellings nowadays where happy human lives +are spent. Human parents and broods of children nestle in them, even as +the swallows nestle in the little crevices along the broken summit of +the wall. + +Passing through the gateway of this same little town, challenged only +by those watchful sentinels, the pigeons, we find ourselves in a long, +narrow street, paved from side to side with flagstones, in the old Roman +fashion. Nothing can exceed the grim ugliness of the houses, most of +which are three or four stories high, stone built, gray, dilapidated, or +half-covered with plaster in patches, and contiguous all along from +end to end of the town. Nature, in the shape of tree, shrub, or grassy +sidewalk, is as much shut out from the one street of the rustic village +as from the heart of any swarming city. The dark and half ruinous +habitations, with their small windows, many of which are drearily closed +with wooden shutters, are but magnified hovels, piled story upon story, +and squalid with the grime that successive ages have left behind them. +It would be a hideous scene to contemplate in a rainy day, or when +no human life pervaded it. In the summer noon, however, it possesses +vivacity enough to keep itself cheerful; for all the within-doors of +the village then bubbles over upon the flagstones, or looks out from the +small windows, and from here and there a balcony. Some of the populace +are at the butcher's shop; others are at the fountain, which gushes into +a marble basin that resembles an antique sarcophagus. A tailor is sewing +before his door with a young priest seated sociably beside him; a burly +friar goes by with an empty wine-barrel on his head; children are at +play; women, at their own doorsteps, mend clothes, embroider, weave hats +of Tuscan straw, or twirl the distaff. Many idlers, meanwhile, strolling +from one group to another, let the warm day slide by in the sweet, +interminable task of doing nothing. + +From all these people there comes a babblement that seems quite +disproportioned to the number of tongues that make it. So many words are +not uttered in a New England village throughout the year--except it +be at a political canvass or town-meeting--as are spoken here, with no +especial purpose, in a single day. Neither so many words, nor so much +laughter; for people talk about nothing as if they were terribly +in earnest, and make merry at nothing as if it were the best of all +possible jokes. In so long a time as they have existed, and within such +narrow precincts, these little walled towns are brought into a closeness +of society that makes them but a larger household. All the inhabitants +are akin to each, and each to all; they assemble in the street as their +common saloon, and thus live and die in a familiarity of intercourse, +such as never can be known where a village is open at either end, and +all roundabout, and has ample room within itself. + +Stuck up beside the door of one house, in this village street, is a +withered bough; and on a stone seat, just under the shadow of the +bough, sits a party of jolly drinkers, making proof of the new wine, or +quaffing the old, as their often-tried and comfortable friend. Kenyon +draws bridle here (for the bough, or bush, is a symbol of the wine-shop +at this day in Italy, as it was three hundred years ago in England), and +calls for a goblet of the deep, mild, purple juice, well diluted with +water from the fountain. The Sunshine of Monte Beni would be welcome +now. Meanwhile, Donatello has ridden onward, but alights where a shrine, +with a burning lamp before it, is built into the wall of an inn stable. +He kneels and crosses himself, and mutters a brief prayer, without +attracting notice from the passers-by, many of whom are parenthetically +devout in a similar fashion. By this time the sculptor has drunk off his +wine-and-water, and our two travellers resume their way, emerging from +the opposite gate of the village. + +Before them, again, lies the broad valley, with a mist so thinly +scattered over it as to be perceptible only in the distance, and most so +in the nooks of the hills. Now that we have called it mist, it seems +a mistake not rather to have called it sunshine; the glory of so much +light being mingled with so little gloom, in the airy material of that +vapor. Be it mist or sunshine, it adds a touch of ideal beauty to the +scene, almost persuading the spectator that this valley and those hills +are visionary, because their visible atmosphere is so like the substance +of a dream. + +Immediately about them, however, there were abundant tokens that the +country was not really the paradise it looked to be, at a casual glance. +Neither the wretched cottages nor the dreary farmhouses seemed to +partake of the prosperity, with which so kindly a climate, and so +fertile a portion of Mother Earth's bosom, should have filled them, one +and all. But possibly the peasant inhabitants do not exist in so grimy +a poverty, and in homes so comfortless, as a stranger, with his native +ideas of those matters, would be likely to imagine. The Italians appear +to possess none of that emulative pride which we see in our New England +villages, where every householder, according to his taste and +means, endeavors to make his homestead an ornament to the grassy +and elm-shadowed wayside. In Italy there are no neat doorsteps +and thresholds; no pleasant, vine-sheltered porches; none of those +grass-plots or smoothly shorn lawns, which hospitably invite the +imagination into the sweet domestic interiors of English life. +Everything, however sunny and luxuriant may be the scene around, is +especially disheartening in the immediate neighborhood of an Italian +home. + +An artist, it is true, might often thank his stars for those old houses, +so picturesquely time-stained, and with the plaster falling in blotches +from the ancient brick-work. The prison-like, iron-barred windows, and +the wide arched, dismal entrance, admitting on one hand to the stable, +on the other to the kitchen, might impress him as far better worth +his pencil than the newly painted pine boxes, in which--if he be an +American--his countrymen live and thrive. But there is reason to suspect +that a people are waning to decay and ruin the moment that their life +becomes fascinating either in the poet's imagination or the painter's +eye. + +As usual on Italian waysides, the wanderers passed great, black crosses, +hung with all the instruments of the sacred agony and passion: there +were the crown of thorns, the hammer and nails, the pincers, the spear, +the sponge; and perched over the whole, the cock that crowed to St. +Peter's remorseful conscience. Thus, while the fertile scene showed the +never-failing beneficence of the Creator towards man in his transitory +state, these symbols reminded each wayfarer of the Saviour's infinitely +greater love for him as an immortal spirit. Beholding these consecrated +stations, the idea seemed to strike Donatello of converting the +otherwise aimless journey into a penitential pilgrimage. At each of them +he alighted to kneel and kiss the cross, and humbly press his forehead +against its foot; and this so invariably, that the sculptor soon learned +to draw bridle of his own accord. It may be, too, heretic as he was, +that Kenyon likewise put up a prayer, rendered more fervent by the +symbols before his eyes, for the peace of his friend's conscience and +the pardon of the sin that so oppressed him. + +Not only at the crosses did Donatello kneel, but at each of the many +shrines, where the Blessed Virgin in fresco--faded with sunshine and +half washed out with showers--looked benignly at her worshipper; or +where she was represented in a wooden image, or a bas-relief of plaster +or marble, as accorded with the means of the devout person who built, +or restored from a mediaeval antiquity, these places of wayside worship. +They were everywhere: under arched niches, or in little penthouses with +a brick tiled roof just large enough to shelter them; or perhaps in +some bit of old Roman masonry, the founders of which had died before the +Advent; or in the wall of a country inn or farmhouse; or at the midway +point of a bridge; or in the shallow cavity of a natural rock; or high +upward in the deep cuts of the road. It appeared to the sculptor that +Donatello prayed the more earnestly and the more hopefully at these +shrines, because the mild face of the Madonna promised him to intercede +as a tender mother betwixt the poor culprit and the awfulness of +judgment. + +It was beautiful to observe, indeed, how tender was the soul of man and +woman towards the Virgin mother, in recognition of the tenderness which, +as their faith taught them, she immortally cherishes towards all human +souls. In the wire-work screen 'before each shrine hung offerings of +roses, or whatever flower was sweetest and most seasonable; some already +wilted and withered, some fresh with that very morning's dewdrops. +Flowers there were, too, that, being artificial, never bloomed on earth, +nor would ever fade. The thought occurred to Kenyon, that flower-pots +with living plants might be set within the niches, or even that +rose-trees, and all kinds of flowering shrubs, might be reared under the +shrines, and taught to twine and wreathe themselves around; so that +the Virgin should dwell within a bower of verdure, bloom, and fragrant +freshness, symbolizing a homage perpetually new. There are many things +in the religious customs of these people that seem good; many things, +at least, that might be both good and beautiful, if the soul of goodness +and the sense of beauty were as much alive in the Italians now as they +must have been when those customs were first imagined and adopted. But, +instead of blossoms on the shrub, or freshly gathered, with the dewdrops +on their leaves, their worship, nowadays, is best symbolized by the +artificial flower. + +The sculptor fancied, moreover (but perhaps it was his heresy that +suggested the idea), that it would be of happy influence to place a +comfortable and shady seat beneath every wayside shrine. Then the weary +and sun-scorched traveller, while resting himself under her protecting +shadow, might thank the Virgin for her hospitality. Nor, perchance, +were he to regale himself, even in such a consecrated spot, with the +fragrance of a pipe, would it rise to heaven more offensively than +the smoke of priestly incense. We do ourselves wrong, and too meanly +estimate the Holiness above us, when we deem that any act or enjoyment, +good in itself, is not good to do religiously. + +Whatever may be the iniquities of the papal system, it was a wise and +lovely sentiment that set up the frequent shrine and cross along the +roadside. No wayfarer, bent on whatever worldly errand, can fail to be +reminded, at every mile or two, that this is not the business which +most concerns him. The pleasure-seeker is silently admonished to look +heavenward for a joy infinitely greater than he now possesses. The +wretch in temptation beholds the cross, and is warned that, if he yield, +the Saviour's agony for his sake will have been endured in vain. The +stubborn criminal, whose heart has long been like a stone, feels it +throb anew with dread and hope; and our poor Donatello, as he went +kneeling from shrine to cross, and from cross to shrine, doubtless found +an efficacy in these symbols that helped him towards a higher penitence. + +Whether the young Count of Monte Beni noticed the fact, or no, there was +more than one incident of their journey that led Kenyon to believe that +they were attended, or closely followed, or preceded, near at hand, by +some one who took an interest in their motions. As it were, the +step, the sweeping garment, the faintly heard breath, of an invisible +companion, was beside them, as they went on their way. It was like a +dream that had strayed out of their slumber, and was haunting them in +the daytime, when its shadowy substance could have neither density nor +outline, in the too obtrusive light. After sunset, it grew a little more +distinct. + +"On the left of that last shrine," asked the sculptor, as they rode, +under the moon, "did you observe the figure of a woman kneeling, with +her, face hidden in her hands?" + +"I never looked that way," replied Donatello. "I was saying my own +prayer. It was some penitent, perchance. May the Blessed Virgin be the +more gracious to the poor soul, because she is a woman." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +PICTURED WINDOWS + + +After wide wanderings through the valley, the two travellers directed +their course towards its boundary of hills. Here, the natural scenery +and men's modifications of it immediately took a different aspect from +that of the fertile and smiling plain. Not unfrequently there was a +convent on the hillside; or, on some insulated promontory, a mined +castle, once the den of a robber chieftain, who was accustomed to dash +down from his commanding height upon the road that wound below. For ages +back, the old fortress had been flinging down its crumbling ramparts, +stone by stone, towards the grimy village at its foot. + +Their road wound onward among the hills, which rose steep and lofty from +the scanty level space that lay between them. They continually thrust +their great bulks before the wayfarers, as if grimly resolute to forbid +their passage, or closed abruptly behind them, when they still dared to +proceed. A gigantic hill would set its foot right down before them, and +only at the last moment would grudgingly withdraw it, just far enough to +let them creep towards another obstacle. Adown these rough heights were +visible the dry tracks of many a mountain torrent that had lived a life +too fierce and passionate to be a long one. Or, perhaps, a stream was +yet hurrying shyly along the edge of a far wider bed of pebbles and +shelving rock than it seemed to need, though not too wide for the +swollen rage of which this shy rivulet was capable. A stone bridge +bestrode it, the ponderous arches of which were upheld and rendered +indestructible by the weight of the very stones that threatened to crush +them down. Old Roman toil was perceptible in the foundations of that +massive bridge; the first weight that it ever bore was that of an army +of the Republic. + +Threading these defiles, they would arrive at some immemorial city, +crowning the high summit of a hill with its cathedral, its many +churches, and public edifices, all of Gothic architecture. With no more +level ground than a single piazza in the midst, the ancient town tumbled +its crooked and narrow streets down the mountainside, through arched +passages and by steps of stone. The aspect of everything was awfully +old; older, indeed, in its effect on the imagination than Rome itself, +because history does not lay its finger on these forgotten edifices and +tell us all about their origin. Etruscan princes may have dwelt in them. +A thousand years, at all events, would seem but a middle age for these +structures. They are built of such huge, square stones, that their +appearance of ponderous durability distresses the beholder with the idea +that they can never fall,--never crumble away,--never be less fit than +now for human habitation. Many of them may once have been palaces, and +still retain a squalid grandeur. But, gazing at them, we recognize how +undesirable it is to build the tabernacle of our brief lifetime out of +permanent materials, and with a view to their being occupied by future +'generations. + +All towns should be made capable of purification by fire, or of decay, +within each half-century. Otherwise, they become the hereditary haunts +of vermin and noisomeness, besides standing apart from the possibility +of such improvements as are constantly introduced into the rest of +man's contrivances and accommodations. It is beautiful, no doubt, and +exceedingly satisfactory to some of our natural instincts, to imagine +our far posterity dwelling under the same roof-tree as ourselves. Still, +when people insist on building indestructible houses, they incur, or +their children do, a misfortune analogous to that of the Sibyl, when +she obtained the grievous boon of immortality. So we may build almost +immortal habitations, it is true; but we cannot keep them from growing +old, musty, unwholesome, dreary,--full of death scents, ghosts, and +murder stains; in short, such habitations as one sees everywhere in +Italy, be they hovels or palaces. + +"You should go with me to my native country," observed the sculptor to +Donatello. "In that fortunate land, each generation has only its own +sins and sorrows to bear. Here, it seems as if all the weary and dreary +Past were piled upon the back of the Present. If I were to lose my +spirits in this country,--if I were to suffer any heavy misfortune +here,--methinks it would be impossible to stand up against it, under +such adverse influences." + +"The sky itself is an old roof, now," answered the Count; "and, no +doubt, the sins of mankind have made it gloomier than it used to be." +"O, my poor Faun," thought Kenyon to himself, "how art thou changed!" + +A city, like this of which we speak, seems a sort of stony growth out +of the hillside, or a fossilized town; so ancient and strange it looks, +without enough of life and juiciness in it to be any longer susceptible +of decay. An earthquake would afford it the only chance of being ruined, +beyond its present ruin. + +Yet, though dead to all the purposes for which we live to-day, the place +has its glorious recollections, and not merely rude and warlike ones, +but those of brighter and milder triumphs, the fruits of which we still +enjoy. Italy can count several of these lifeless towns which, four or +five hundred years ago, were each the birthplace of its own school of +art; nor have they yet forgotten to be proud of the dark old pictures, +and the faded frescos, the pristine beauty of which was a light and +gladness to the world. But now, unless one happens to be a painter, +these famous works make us miserably desperate. They are poor, dim +ghosts of what, when Giotto or Cimabue first created them, threw a +splendor along the stately aisles; so far gone towards nothingness, +in our day, that scarcely a hint of design or expression can glimmer +through the dusk. Those early artists did well to paint their frescos. +Glowing on the church-walls, they might be looked upon as symbols of the +living spirit that made Catholicism a true religion, and that glorified +it as long as it retained a genuine life; they filled the transepts with +a radiant throng of saints and angels, and threw around the high altar +a faint reflection--as much as mortals could see, or bear--of a Diviner +Presence. But now that the colors are so wretchedly bedimmed,--now that +blotches of plastered wall dot the frescos all over, like a mean reality +thrusting itself through life's brightest illusions,--the next best +artist to Cimabue or Giotto or Ghirlandaio or Pinturicchio will be he +that shall reverently cover their ruined masterpieces with whitewash! + +Kenyon, however, being an earnest student and critic of Art, lingered +long before these pathetic relics; and Donatello, in his present phase +of penitence, thought no time spent amiss while he could be kneeling +before an altar. Whenever they found a cathedral, therefore, or a Gothic +church, the two travellers were of one mind to enter it. In some of +these holy edifices they saw pictures that time had not dimmed nor +injured in the least, though they perhaps belonged to as old a school +of Art as any that were perishing around them. These were the painted +windows; and as often as he gazed at them the sculptor blessed the +medieval time, and its gorgeous contrivances of splendor; for surely the +skill of man has never accomplished, nor his mind imagined, any other +beauty or glory worthy to be compared with these. + +It is the special excellence of pictured glass, that the light, which +falls merely on the outside of other pictures, is here interfused +throughout the work; it illuminates the design, and invests it with +a living radiance; and in requital the unfading colors transmute the +common daylight into a miracle of richness and glory in its passage +through the heavenly substance of the blessed and angelic shapes which +throng the high-arched window. + +"It is a woeful thing," cried Kenyon, while one of these frail yet +enduring and fadeless pictures threw its hues on his face, and on the +pavement of the church around him,--"a sad necessity that any Christian +soul should pass from earth without once seeing an antique painted +window, with the bright Italian sunshine glowing through it! There is +no other such true symbol of the glories of the better world, where +a celestial radiance will be inherent in all things and persons, and +render each continually transparent to the sight of all." + +"But what a horror it would be," said Donatello sadly, "if there were a +soul among them through which the light could not be transfused!" + +"Yes; and perhaps this is to be the punishment of sin," replied the +sculptor; "not that it shall be made evident to the universe, which can +profit nothing by such knowledge, but that it shall insulate the sinner +from all sweet society by rendering him impermeable to light, and, +therefore, unrecognizable in the abode of heavenly simplicity and truth. +Then, what remains for him, but the dreariness of infinite and eternal +solitude?" + +"That would be a horrible destiny, indeed!" said Donatello. + +His voice as he spoke the words had a hollow and dreary cadence, as if +he anticipated some such frozen solitude for himself. A figure in a dark +robe was lurking in the obscurity of a side chapel close by, and made an +impulsive movement forward, but hesitated as Donatello spoke again. + +"But there might be a more miserable torture than to be solitary +forever," said he. "Think of having a single companion in eternity, and +instead of finding any consolation, or at all events variety of torture, +to see your own weary, weary sin repeated in that inseparable soul." + +"I think, my dear Count, you have never read Dante," observed Kenyon. +"That idea is somewhat in his style, but I cannot help regretting that +it came into your mind just then." + +The dark-robed figure had shrunk back, and was quite lost to sight among +the shadows of the chapel. + +"There was an English poet," resumed Kenyon, turning again towards the +window, "who speaks of the 'dim, religious light,' transmitted through +painted glass. I always admired this richly descriptive phrase; but, +though he was once in Italy, I question whether Milton ever saw any +but the dingy pictures in the dusty windows of English cathedrals, +imperfectly shown by the gray English daylight. He would else have +illuminated that word 'dim' with some epithet that should not chase +away the dimness, yet should make it glow like a million of rubies, +sapphires, emeralds, and topazes. Is it not so with yonder window? The +pictures are most brilliant in themselves, yet dim with tenderness and +reverence, because God himself is shining through them." + +"The pictures fill me with emotion, but not such as you seem to +experience," said Donatello. "I tremble at those awful saints; and, most +of all, at the figure above them. He glows with Divine wrath!" + +"My dear friend," said Kenyon, "how strangely your eyes have transmuted +the expression of the figure! It is divine love, not wrath!" + +"To my eyes," said Donatello stubbornly, "it is wrath, not love! Each +must interpret for himself." + +The friends left the church, and looking up, from the exterior, at +the window which they had just been contemplating within, nothing; was +visible but the merest outline of dusky shapes, Neither the individual +likeness of saint, angel, nor Saviour, and far less the combined scheme +and purport of the picture, could anywise be made out. That miracle of +radiant art, thus viewed, was nothing better than an incomprehensible +obscurity, without a gleam of beauty to induce the beholder to attempt +unravelling it. + +"All this," thought the sculptor, "is a most forcible emblem of the +different aspect of religious truth and sacred story, as viewed from the +warm interior of belief, or from its cold and dreary outside. Christian +faith is a grand cathedral, with divinely pictured windows. Standing +without, you see no glory, nor can possibly imagine any; standing +within, every ray of light reveals a harmony of unspeakable splendors." + +After Kenyon and Donatello emerged from the church, however, they had +better opportunity for acts of charity and mercy than for religious +contemplation; being immediately surrounded by a swarm of beggars, who +are the present possessors of Italy, and share the spoil of the stranger +with the fleas and mosquitoes, their formidable allies. These pests--the +human ones--had hunted the two travellers at every stage of their +journey. From village to village, ragged boys and girls kept almost +under the horses' feet; hoary grandsires and grandames caught glimpses +of their approach, and hobbled to intercept them at some point of +vantage; blind men stared them out of countenance with their sightless +orbs; women held up their unwashed babies; cripples displayed their +wooden legs, their grievous scars, their dangling, boneless arms, their +broken backs, their burden of a hump, or whatever infirmity or deformity +Providence had assigned them for an inheritance. On the highest mountain +summit--in the most shadowy ravine--there was a beggar waiting for them. +In one small village, Kenyon had the curiosity to count merely how many +children were crying, whining, and bellowing all at once for alms. They +proved to be more than forty of as ragged and dirty little imps as any +in the world; besides whom, all the wrinkled matrons, and most of the +village maids, and not a few stalwart men, held out their hands grimly, +piteously, or smilingly in the forlorn hope of whatever trifle of +coin might remain in pockets already so fearfully taxed. Had they +been permitted, they would gladly have knelt down and worshipped the +travellers, and have cursed them, without rising from their knees, if +the expected boon failed to be awarded. + +Yet they were not so miserably poor but that the grown people kept +houses over their heads. + +In the way of food, they had, at least, vegetables in their little +gardens, pigs and chickens to kill, eggs to fry into omelets with oil, +wine to drink, and many other things to make life comfortable. As for +the children, when no more small coin appeared to be forthcoming, they +began to laugh and play, and turn heels over head, showing themselves +jolly and vivacious brats, and evidently as well fed as needs be. The +truth is, the Italian peasantry look upon strangers as the almoners of +Providence, and therefore feel no more shame in asking and receiving +alms, than in availing themselves of providential bounties in whatever +other form. + +In accordance with his nature, Donatello was always exceedingly +charitable to these ragged battalions, and appeared to derive a certain +consolation from the prayers which many of them put up in his behalf. In +Italy a copper coin of minute value will often make all the difference +between a vindictive curse--death by apoplexy being the favorite +one-mumbled in an old witch's toothless jaws, and a prayer from the same +lips, so earnest that it would seem to reward the charitable soul with +at least a puff of grateful breath to help him heavenward. Good wishes +being so cheap, though possibly not very efficacious, and anathemas so +exceedingly bitter,--even if the greater portion of their poison remain +in the mouth that utters them,--it may be wise to expend some reasonable +amount in the purchase of the former. Donatello invariably did so; and +as he distributed his alms under the pictured window, of which we have +been speaking, no less than seven ancient women lifted their hands and +besought blessings on his head. + +"Come," said the sculptor, rejoicing at the happier expression which he +saw in his friend's face. "I think your steed will not stumble with you +to-day. Each of these old dames looks as much like Horace's Atra Cura +as can well be conceived; but, though there are seven of them, they will +make your burden on horseback lighter instead of heavier." + +"Are we to ride far?" asked the Count. + +"A tolerable journey betwixt now and to-morrow noon," Kenyon replied; +"for, at that hour, I purpose to be standing by the Pope's statue in the +great square of Perugia." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +MARKET DAY IN PERUGIA + + +Perugia, on its lofty hilltop, was reached by the two travellers before +the sun had quite kissed away the early freshness of the morning. Since +midnight, there had been a heavy, rain, bringing infinite refreshment to +the scene of verdure and fertility amid which this ancient civilization +stands; insomuch that Kenyon loitered, when they came to the gray city +wall, and was loath to give up the prospect of the sunny wilderness that +lay below. It was as green as England, and bright as Italy alone. There +was all the wide valley, sweeping down and spreading away on all sides +from the weed grown ramparts, and bounded afar by mountains, which lay +asleep in the sun, with thin mists and silvery clouds floating about +their heads by way of morning dreams. + +"It lacks still two hours of noon," said the sculptor to his friend, as +they stood under the arch of the gateway, waiting for their passports +to be examined; "will you come with me to see some admirable frescos by +Perugino? There is a hall in the Exchange, of no great magnitude, but +covered with what must have been--at the time it was painted--such +magnificence and beauty as the world had not elsewhere to show." + +"It depresses me to look at old frescos," responded the Count; "it is a +pain, yet not enough of a pain to answer as a penance." + +"Will you look at some pictures by Fra Angelico in the Church of San +Domenico?" asked Kenyon; "they are full of religious sincerity, When +one studies them faithfully, it is like holding a conversation about +heavenly things with a tender and devout-minded man." + +"You have shown me some of Fra Angelico's pictures, I remember," +answered Donatello; "his angels look as if they had never taken a flight +out of heaven; and his saints seem to have been born saints, and always +to have lived so. Young maidens, and all innocent persons, I doubt not, +may find great delight and profit in looking at such holy pictures. But +they are not for me." + +"Your criticism, I fancy, has great moral depth," replied Kenyon; "and +I see in it the reason why Hilda so highly appreciates Fra Angelico's +pictures. Well; we will let all such matters pass for to-day, and stroll +about this fine old city till noon." + +They wandered to and fro, accordingly, and lost themselves among the +strange, precipitate passages, which, in Perugia, are called streets, +Some of them are like caverns, being arched all over, and plunging down +abruptly towards an unknown darkness; which, when you have fathomed +its depths, admits you to a daylight that you scarcely hoped to behold +again. Here they met shabby men, and the careworn wives and mothers +of the people, some of whom guided children in leading strings through +those dim and antique thoroughfares, where a hundred generations had +passed before the little feet of to-day began to tread them. Thence they +climbed upward again, and came to the level plateau, on the summit of +the hill, where are situated the grand piazza and the principal public +edifices. + +It happened to be market day in Perugia. The great square, therefore, +presented a far more vivacious spectacle than would have been witnessed +in it at any other time of the week, though not so lively as to overcome +the gray solemnity of the architectural portion of the scene. In the +shadow of the cathedral and other old Gothic structures--seeking shelter +from the sunshine that fell across the rest of the piazza--was a crowd +of people, engaged as buyers or sellers in the petty traffic of a +country fair. Dealers had erected booths and stalls on the pavement, +and overspread them with scanty awnings, beneath which they stood, +vociferously crying their merchandise; such as shoes, hats and caps, +yarn stockings, cheap jewelry and cutlery, books, chiefly little volumes +of a religious Character, and a few French novels; toys, tinware, +old iron, cloth, rosaries of beads, crucifixes, cakes, biscuits, +sugar-plums, and innumerable little odds and ends, which we see no +object in advertising. Baskets of grapes, figs, and pears stood on the +ground. Donkeys, bearing panniers stuffed out with kitchen vegetables, +and requiring an ample roadway, roughly shouldered aside the throng. + +Crowded as the square was, a juggler found room to spread out a white +cloth upon the pavement, and cover it with cups, plates, balls, cards, +w the whole material of his magic, in short,--wherewith he proceeded to +work miracles under the noonday sun. An organ grinder at one point, and +a clarion and a flute at another, accomplished what their could towards +filling the wide space with tuneful noise, Their small uproar, +however, was nearly drowned by the multitudinous voices of the people, +bargaining, quarrelling, laughing, and babbling copiously at random; +for the briskness of the mountain atmosphere, or some other cause, made +everybody so loquacious, that more words were wasted in Perugia on this +one market day, than the noisiest piazza of Rome would utter in a month. + +Through all this petty tumult, which kept beguiling one's eyes and upper +strata of thought, it was delightful to catch glimpses of the grand +old architecture that stood around the square. The life of the +flitting moment, existing in the antique shell of an age gone by, has a +fascination which we do not find in either the past or present, taken by +themselves. It might seem irreverent to make the gray cathedral and +the tall, time-worn palaces echo back the exuberant vociferation of the +market; but they did so, and caused the sound to assume a kind of +poetic rhythm, and themselves looked only the more majestic for their +condescension. + +On one side, there was an immense edifice devoted to public purposes, +with an antique gallery, and a range of arched and stone-mullioned +windows, running along its front; and by way of entrance it had a +central Gothic arch, elaborately wreathed around with sculptured +semicircles, within which the spectator was aware of a stately and +impressive gloom. Though merely the municipal council-house and exchange +of a decayed country town, this structure was worthy to have held in +one portion of it the parliament hall of a nation, and in the other, the +state apartments of its ruler. On another side of the square rose the +mediaeval front of the cathedral, where the imagination of a Gothic +architect had long ago flowered out indestructibly, in the first place, +a grand design, and then covering it with such abundant detail of +ornament, that the magnitude of the work seemed less a miracle than its +minuteness. You would suppose that he must have softened the stone +into wax, until his most delicate fancies were modelled in the pliant +material, and then had hardened it into stone again. The whole was a +vast, black-letter page of the richest and quaintest poetry. In fit +keeping with all this old magnificence was a great marble fountain, +where again the Gothic imagination showed its overflow and gratuity of +device in the manifold sculptures which it lavished as freely as the +water did its shifting shapes. + +Besides the two venerable structures which we have described, there were +lofty palaces, perhaps of as old a date, rising story above Story, and +adorned with balconies, whence, hundreds of years ago, the princely +occupants had been accustomed to gaze down at the sports, business, and +popular assemblages of the piazza. And, beyond all question, they thus +witnessed the erection of a bronze statue, which, three centuries since, +was placed on the pedestal that it still occupies. + +"I never come to Perugia," said Kenyon, "without spending as much time +as I can spare in studying yonder statue of Pope Julius the Third. Those +sculptors of the Middle Age have fitter lessons for the professors of +my art than we can find in the Grecian masterpieces. They belong to our +Christian civilization; and, being earnest works, they always express +something which we do not get from the antique. Will you look at it?" + +"Willingly," replied the Count, "for I see, even so far off, that the +statue is bestowing a benediction, and there is a feeling in my heart +that I may be permitted to share it." + +Remembering the similar idea which Miriam a short time before had +expressed, the sculptor smiled hopefully at the coincidence. They made +their way through the throng of the market place, and approached close +to the iron railing that protected the pedestal of the statue. + +It was the figure of a pope, arrayed in his pontifical robes, and +crowned with the tiara. He sat in a bronze chair, elevated high above +the pavement, and seemed to take kindly yet authoritative cognizance +of the busy scene which was at that moment passing before his eye. His +right hand was raised and spread abroad, as if in the act of shedding +forth a benediction, which every man--so broad, so wise, and so serenely +affectionate was the bronze pope's regard--might hope to feel quietly +descending upon the need, or the distress, that he had closest at his +heart. The statue had life and observation in it, as well as patriarchal +majesty. An imaginative spectator could not but be impressed with +the idea that this benignly awful representative of divine and human +authority might rise from his brazen chair, should any great public +exigency demand his interposition, and encourage or restrain the people +by his gesture, or even by prophetic utterances worthy of so grand a +presence. + +And in the long, calm intervals, amid the quiet lapse of ages, the +pontiff watched the daily turmoil around his seat, listening with +majestic patience to the market cries, and all the petty uproar that +awoke the echoes of the stately old piazza. He was the enduring friend +of these men, and of their forefathers and children, the familiar face +of generations. + +"The pope's blessing, methinks, has fallen upon you," observed the +sculptor, looking at his friend. + +In truth, Donatello's countenance indicated a healthier spirit than +while he was brooding in his melancholy tower. The change of scene, the +breaking up of custom, the fresh flow of incidents, the sense of being +homeless, and therefore free, had done something for our poor Faun; +these circumstances had at least promoted a reaction, which might else +have been slower in its progress. Then, no doubt, the bright day, the +gay spectacle of the market place, and the sympathetic exhilaration +of so many people's cheerfulness, had each their suitable effect on a +temper naturally prone to be glad. Perhaps, too, he was magnetically +conscious of a presence that formerly sufficed to make him happy. Be the +cause what it might, Donatello's eyes shone with a serene and hopeful +expression while looking upward at the bronze pope, to whose widely +diffused blessing, it may be, he attributed all this good influence. + +"Yes, my dear friend," said he, in reply to the sculptor's remark, "I +feel the blessing upon my spirit." + +"It is wonderful," said Kenyon, with a smile, "wonderful and delightful +to think how long a good man's beneficence may be potent, even after his +death. How great, then, must have been the efficacy of this excellent +pontiff's blessing while he was alive!" + +"I have heard," remarked the Count, "that there was a brazen image set +up in the wilderness, the sight of which healed the Israelites of their +poisonous and rankling wounds. If it be the Blessed Virgin's pleasure, +why should not this holy image before us do me equal good? A wound has +long been rankling in my soul, and filling it with poison." + +"I did wrong to smile," answered Kenyon. "It is not for me to limit +Providence in its operations on man's spirit." + +While they stood talking, the clock in the neighboring cathedral told +the hour, with twelve reverberating strokes, which it flung down upon +the crowded market place, as if warning one and all to take advantage +of the bronze pontiff's benediction, or of Heaven's blessing, however +proffered, before the opportunity were lost. + +"High noon," said the sculptor. "It is Miriam's hour!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +THE BRONZE PONTIFF'S BENEDICTION + + +When the last of the twelve strokes had fallen from the cathedral clock, +Kenyon threw his eyes over the busy scene of the market place, expecting +to discern Miriam somewhere in the 'crowd. He looked next towards the +cathedral itself, where it was reasonable to imagine that she might have +taken shelter, while awaiting her appointed time. Seeing no trace of +her in either direction, his eyes came back from their quest somewhat +disappointed, and rested on a figure which was leaning, like Donatello +and himself, on the iron balustrade that surrounded the statue. Only a +moment before, they two had been alone. + +It was the figure of a woman, with her head bowed on her hands, as if +she deeply felt--what we have been endeavoring to convey into our feeble +description--the benign and awe-inspiring influence which the pontiff's +statue exercises upon a sensitive spectator. No matter though it were +modelled for a Catholic chief priest, the desolate heart, whatever be +its religion, recognizes in that image the likeness of a father. + +"Miriam," said the sculptor, with a tremor in his voice, "is it +yourself?" + +"It is I," she replied; "I am faithful to my engagement, though with +many fears." She lifted her head, and revealed to Kenyon--revealed to +Donatello likewise--the well-remembered features of Miriam. They were +pale and worn, but distinguished even now, though less gorgeously, by +a beauty that might be imagined bright enough to glimmer with its own +light in a dim cathedral aisle, and had no need to shrink from the +severer test of the mid-day sun. But she seemed tremulous, and hardly +able to go through with a scene which at a distance she had found +courage to undertake. + +"You are most welcome, Miriam!" said the sculptor, seeking to afford +her the encouragement which he saw she so greatly required. "I have +a hopeful trust that the result of this interview will be propitious. +Come; let me lead you to Donatello." + +"No, Kenyon, no!" whispered Miriam, shrinking back; "unless of his own +accord he speaks my name,--unless he bids me stay,--no word shall ever +pass between him and me. It is not that I take upon me to be proud at +this late hour. Among other feminine qualities, I threw away my pride +when Hilda cast me off." + +"If not pride, what else restrains you?" Kenyon asked, a little angry at +her unseasonable scruples, and also at this half-complaining reference +to Hilda's just severity. "After daring so much, it is no time for fear! +If we let him part from you without a word, your opportunity of doing +him inestimable good is lost forever." + +"True; it will be lost forever!" repeated Miriam sadly. "But, dear +friend, will it be my fault? I willingly fling my woman's pride at his +feet. But--do you not see?--his heart must be left freely to its own +decision whether to recognize me, because on his voluntary choice +depends the whole question whether my devotion will do him good or +harm. Except he feel an infinite need of me, I am a burden and fatal +obstruction to him!" + +"Take your own course, then, Miriam," said Kenyon; "and, doubtless, +the crisis being what it is, your spirit is better instructed for its +emergencies than mine." + +While the foregoing words passed between them they had withdrawn a +little from the immediate vicinity of the statue, so as to be out of +Donatello's hearing. Still, however, they were beneath the pontiff's +outstretched hand; and Miriam, with her beauty and her sorrow, looked up +into his benignant face, as if she had come thither for his pardon and +paternal affection, and despaired of so vast a boon. + +Meanwhile, she had not stood thus long in the public square of Perugia, +without attracting the observation of many eyes. With their quick sense +of beauty, these Italians had recognized her loveliness, and spared not +to take their fill of gazing at it; though their native gentleness and +courtesy made their homage far less obtrusive than that of Germans, +French, or Anglo-Saxons might have been. It is not improbable that +Miriam had planned this momentous interview, on so public a spot and at +high noon, with an eye to the sort of protection that would be thrown +over it by a multitude of eye-witnesses. In circumstances of profound +feeling and passion, there is often a sense that too great a seclusion +cannot be endured; there is an indefinite dread of being quite alone +with the object of our deepest interest. The species of solitude that +a crowd harbors within itself is felt to be preferable, in certain +conditions of the heart, to the remoteness of a desert or the depths +of an untrodden wood. Hatred, love, or whatever kind of too +intense emotion, or even indifference, where emotion has once been, +instinctively seeks to interpose some barrier between itself and the +corresponding passion in another breast. This, we suspect, was what +Miriam had thought of, in coming to the thronged piazza; partly this, +and partly, as she said, her superstition that the benign statue held +good influences in store. + +But Donatello remained leaning against the balustrade. She dared not +glance towards him, to see whether he were pale and agitated, or calm as +ice. Only, she knew that the moments were fleetly lapsing away, and that +his heart must call her soon, or the voice would never reach her. She +turned quite away from him and spoke again to the sculptor. + +"I have wished to meet you," said she, "for more than one reason. News +has come to me respecting a dear friend of ours. Nay, not of mine! I +dare not call her a friend of mine, though once the dearest." + +"Do you speak of Hilda?" exclaimed Kenyon, with quick alarm. "Has +anything befallen her? When I last heard of her, she was still in Rome, +and well." + +"Hilda remains in Rome," replied Miriam, "nor is she ill as regards +physical health, though much depressed in spirits. She lives quite alone +in her dove-cote; not a friend near her, not one in Rome, which, you +know, is deserted by all but its native inhabitants. I fear for her +health, if she continue long in such solitude, with despondency preying +on her mind. I tell you this, knowing the interest which the rare beauty +of her character has awakened in you." + +"I will go to Rome!" said the sculptor, in great emotion. "Hilda has +never allowed me to manifest more than a friendly regard; but, at least, +she cannot prevent my watching over her at a humble distance. I will set +out this very hour." + +"Do not leave us now!" whispered Miriam imploringly, and laying her hand +on his arm. "One moment more! Ah; he has no word for me!" + +"Miriam!" said Donatello. + +Though but a single word, and the first that he had spoken, its tone was +a warrant of the sad and tender depth from which it came. It told Miriam +things of infinite importance, and, first of all, that he still loved +her. The sense of their mutual crime had stunned, but not destroyed, the +vitality of his affection; it was therefore indestructible. That tone, +too, bespoke an altered and deepened character; it told of a vivified +intellect, and of spiritual instruction that had come through sorrow and +remorse; so that instead of the wild boy, the thing of sportive, +animal nature, the sylvan Faun, here was now the man of feeling and +intelligence. + +She turned towards him, while his voice still reverberated in the depths +of her soul. + +"You have called me!" said she. + +"Because my deepest heart has need of you!" he replied. "Forgive, +Miriam, the coldness, the hardness with which I parted from you! I was +bewildered with strange horror and gloom." + +"Alas! and it was I that brought it on you," said she. "What repentance, +what self-sacrifice, can atone for that infinite wrong? There was +something so sacred in the innocent and joyous life which you were +leading! A happy person is such an unaccustomed and holy creature in +this sad world! And, encountering so rare a being, and gifted with the +power of sympathy with his sunny life, it was my doom, mine, to bring +him within the limits of sinful, sorrowful mortality! Bid me depart, +Donatello! Fling me off! No good, through my agency, can follow upon +such a mighty evil!" + +"Miriam," said he, "our lot lies together. Is it not so? Tell me, in +Heaven's name, if it be otherwise." + +Donatello's conscience was evidently perplexed with doubt, whether the +communion of a crime, such as they two were jointly stained with, ought +not to stifle all the instinctive motions of their hearts, impelling +them one towards the other. Miriam, on the other hand, remorsefully +questioned with herself whether the misery, already accruing from +her influence, should not warn her to withdraw from his path. In this +momentous interview, therefore, two souls were groping for each other in +the darkness of guilt and sorrow, and hardly were bold enough to grasp +the cold hands that they found. + +The sculptor stood watching the scene with earnest sympathy. + +"It seems irreverent," said he, at length; "intrusive, if not +irreverent, for a third person to thrust himself between the two solely +concerned in a crisis like the present. Yet, possibly as a bystander, +though a deeply interested one, I may discern somewhat of truth that +is hidden from you both; nay, at least interpret or suggest some ideas +which you might not so readily convey to each other." + +"Speak!" said Miriam. "We confide in you." "Speak!" said Donatello. "You +are true and upright." + +"I well know," rejoined Kenyon, "that I shall not succeed in uttering +the few, deep words which, in this matter, as in all others, include the +absolute truth. But here, Miriam, is one whom a terrible misfortune has +begun to educate; it has taken him, and through your agency, out of a +wild and happy state, which, within circumscribed limits, gave him joys +that he cannot elsewhere find on earth. On his behalf, you have incurred +a responsibility which you cannot fling aside. And here, Donatello, is +one whom Providence marks out as intimately connected with your destiny. +The mysterious process, by which our earthly life instructs us for +another state of being, was begun for you by her. She has rich gifts of +heart and mind, a suggestive power, a magnetic influence, a sympathetic +knowledge, which, wisely and religiously exercised, are what your +condition needs. She possesses what you require, and, with utter self +devotion, will use it for your good. The bond betwixt you, therefore, +is a true one, and never--except by Heaven's own act--should be rent +asunder." + +"Ah; he has spoken the truth!" cried Donatello, grasping Miriam's hand. + + +"The very truth, dear friend," cried Miriam. + +"But take heed," resumed the sculptor, anxious not to violate the +integrity of his own conscience, "take heed; for you love one another, +and yet your bond is twined with such black threads that you must never +look upon it as identical with the ties that unite other loving souls. +It is for mutual support; it is for one another's final good; it is for +effort, for sacrifice, but not for earthly happiness. If such be your +motive, believe me, friends, it were better to relinquish each other's +hands at this sad moment. There would be no holy sanction on your wedded +life." + +"None," said Donatello, shuddering. "We know it well." + +"None," repeated Miriam, also shuddering. "United--miserably entangled +with me, rather--by a bond of guilt, our union might be for eternity, +indeed, and most intimate;--but, through all that endless duration, I +should be conscious of his horror." + +"Not for earthly bliss, therefore," said Kenyon, "but for mutual +elevation, and encouragement towards a severe and painful life, you take +each other's hands. And if, out of toil, sacrifice, prayer, penitence, +and earnest effort towards right things, there comes at length a sombre +and thoughtful, happiness, taste it, and thank Heaven! So that you live +not for it,--so that it be a wayside flower, springing along a path that +leads to higher ends,--it will be Heaven's gracious gift, and a token +that it recognizes your union here below." + +"Have you no more to say?" asked Miriam earnestly. "There is matter of +sorrow and lofty consolation strangely mingled in your words." + +"Only this, dear Miriam," said the sculptor; "if ever in your lives +the highest duty should require from either of you the sacrifice of the +other, meet the occasion without shrinking. This is all." + +While Kenyon spoke, Donatello had evidently taken in the ideas which he +propounded, and had ennobled them by the sincerity of his reception. +His aspect unconsciously assumed a dignity, which, elevating his former +beauty, accorded with the change that had long been taking place in his +interior self. He was a man, revolving grave and deep thoughts in his +breast. He still held Miriam's hand; and there they stood, the beautiful +man, the beautiful woman, united forever, as they felt, in the +presence of these thousand eye-witnesses, who gazed so curiously at the +unintelligible scene. Doubtless the crowd recognized them as lovers, +and fancied this a betrothal that was destined to result in lifelong +happiness. And possibly it might be so. Who can tell where happiness may +come; or where, though an expected guest, it may never show its face? +Perhaps--shy, subtle thing--it had crept into this sad marriage bond, +when the partners would have trembled at its presence as a crime. + +"Farewell!" said Kenyon; "I go to Rome." + +"Farewell, true friend!" said Miriam. + +"Farewell!" said Donatello too. "May you be happy. You have no guilt to +make you shrink from happiness." + +At this moment it so chanced that all the three friends by one impulse +glanced upward at the statue of Pope Julius; and there was the majestic +figure stretching out the hand of benediction over them, and bending +down upon this guilty and repentant pair its visage of grand benignity. +There is a singular effect oftentimes when, out of the midst of +engrossing thought and deep absorption, we suddenly look up, and catch a +glimpse of external objects. We seem at such moments to look farther and +deeper into them, than by any premeditated observation; it is as if they +met our eyes alive, and with all their hidden meaning on the surface, +but grew again inanimate and inscrutable the instant that they became +aware of our glances. So now, at that unexpected glimpse, Miriam, +Donatello, and the sculptor, all three imagined that they beheld the +bronze pontiff endowed with spiritual life. A blessing was felt +descending upon them from his outstretched hand; he approved by look and +gesture the pledge of a deep union that had passed under his auspices. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +HILDA'S TOWER + + +When we have once known Rome, and left her where she lies, like a +long-decaying corpse, retaining a trace of the noble shape it was, but +with accumulated dust and a fungous growth overspreading all its more +admirable features, left her in utter weariness, no doubt, of her +narrow, crooked, intricate streets, so uncomfortably paved with little +squares of lava that to tread over them is a penitential pilgrimage, so +indescribably ugly, moreover, so cold, so alley-like, into which the sun +never falls, and where a chill wind forces its deadly breath into our +lungs,--left her, tired of the sight of those immense seven-storied, +yellow-washed hovels, or call them palaces, where all that is dreary +in domestic life seems magnified and multiplied, and weary of climbing +those staircases, which ascend from a ground-floor of cook shops, +cobblers' stalls, stables, and regiments of cavalry, to a middle region +of princes, cardinals, and ambassadors, and an upper tier of artists, +just beneath the unattainable sky,--left her, worn out with shivering +at the cheerless and smoky fireside by day, and feasting with our own +substance the ravenous little populace of a Roman bed at night,--left +her, sick at heart of Italian trickery, which has uprooted whatever +faith in man's integrity had endured till now, and sick at stomach +of sour bread, sour wine, rancid butter, and bad cookery, needlessly +bestowed on evil meats,--left her, disgusted with the pretence of +holiness and the reality of nastiness, each equally omnipresent,--left +her, half lifeless from the languid atmosphere, the vital principle +of which has been used up long ago, or corrupted by myriads of +slaughters,--left her, crushed down in spirit with the desolation of her +ruin, and the hopelessness of her future,--left her, in short, hating +her with all our might, and adding our individual curse to the infinite +anathema which her old crimes have unmistakably brought down,--when we +have left Rome in such mood as this, we are astonished by the discovery, +by and by, that our heart-strings have mysteriously attached themselves +to the Eternal City, and are drawing us thitherward again, as if it were +more familiar, more intimately our home, than even the spot where we +were born. + +It is with a kindred sentiment, that we now follow the course of our +story back through the Flaminian Gate, and, treading our way to the Via +Portoghese, climb the staircase to the upper chamber of the tower where +we last saw Hilda. + +Hilda all along intended to pass the summer in Rome; for she had laid +out many high and delightful tasks, which she could the better complete +while her favorite haunts were deserted by the multitude that thronged +them throughout the winter and early spring. Nor did she dread the +summer atmosphere, although generally held to be so pestilential. She +had already made trial of it, two years before, and found no worse +effect than a kind of dreamy languor, which was dissipated by the first +cool breezes that came with autumn. The thickly populated centre of the +city, indeed, is never affected by the feverish influence that lies in +wait in the Campagna, like a besieging foe, and nightly haunts those +beautiful lawns and woodlands, around the suburban villas, just at the +season when they most resemble Paradise. What the flaming sword was to +the first Eden, such is the malaria to these sweet gardens and grove. We +may wander through them, of an afternoon, it is true, but they cannot +be made a home and a reality, and to sleep among them is death. They are +but illusions, therefore, like the show of gleaming waters and shadowy +foliage in a desert. + +But Rome, within the walls, at this dreaded season, enjoys its festal +days, and makes itself merry with characteristic and hereditary +pas-times, for which its broad piazzas afford abundant room. It leads +its own life with a freer spirit, now that the artists and foreign +visitors are scattered abroad. No bloom, perhaps, would be visible in +a cheek that should be unvisited, throughout the summer, by more +invigorating winds than any within fifty miles of the city; no bloom, +but yet, if the mind kept its healthy energy, a subdued and colorless +well-being. There was consequently little risk in Hilda's purpose to +pass the summer days in the galleries of Roman palaces, and her nights +in that aerial chamber, whither the heavy breath of the city and its +suburbs could not aspire. It would probably harm her no more than it +did the white doves, who sought the same high atmosphere at sunset, and, +when morning came, flew down into the narrow streets, about their daily +business, as Hilda likewise did. + +With the Virgin's aid and blessing, which might be hoped for even by +a heretic, who so religiously lit the lamp before her shrine, the New +England girl would sleep securely in her old Roman tower, and go forth +on her pictorial pilgrimages without dread or peril. In view of such +a summer, Hilda had anticipated many months of lonely, but unalloyed +enjoyment. Not that she had a churlish disinclination to society, or +needed to be told that we taste one intellectual pleasure twice, and +with double the result, when we taste it with a friend. But, keeping a +maiden heart within her bosom, she rejoiced in the freedom that enabled +her still to choose her own sphere, and dwell in it, if she pleased, +without another inmate. + +Her expectation, however, of a delightful summer was woefully +disappointed. Even had she formed no previous plan of remaining there, +it is improbable that Hilda would have gathered energy to stir from +Rome. A torpor, heretofore unknown to her vivacious though quiet +temperament, had possessed itself of the poor girl, like a half-dead +serpent knotting its cold, inextricable wreaths about her limbs. It +was that peculiar despair, that chill and heavy misery, which only +the innocent can experience, although it possesses many of the gloomy +characteristics that mark a sense of guilt. It was that heartsickness, +which, it is to be hoped, we may all of us have been pure enough to +feel, once in our lives, but the capacity for which is usually exhausted +early, and perhaps with a single agony. It was that dismal certainty of +the existence of evil in the world, which, though we may fancy ourselves +fully assured of the sad mystery long before, never becomes a portion of +our practical belief until it takes substance and reality from the sin +of some guide, whom we have deeply trusted and revered, or some friend +whom we have dearly loved. + +When that knowledge comes, it is as if a cloud had suddenly gathered +over the morning light; so dark a cloud, that there seems to be +no longer any sunshine behind it or above it. The character of our +individual beloved one having invested itself with all the attributes +of right,--that one friend being to us the symbol and representative of +whatever is good and true,--when he falls, the effect is almost as if +the sky fell with him, bringing down in chaotic ruin the columns +that upheld our faith. We struggle forth again, no doubt, bruised and +bewildered. We stare wildly about us, and discover--or, it may be, we +never make the discovery--that it was not actually the sky that has +tumbled down, but merely a frail structure of our own rearing, which +never rose higher than the housetops, and has fallen because we founded +it on nothing. But the crash, and the affright and trouble, are as +overwhelming, for the time, as if the catastrophe involved the whole +moral world. Remembering these things, let them suggest one generous +motive for walking heedfully amid the defilement of earthly ways! Let us +reflect, that the highest path is pointed out by the pure Ideal of those +who look up to us, and who, if we tread less loftily, may never look so +high again. + +Hilda's situation was made infinitely more wretched by the necessity of +Confining all her trouble within her own consciousness. To this innocent +girl, holding the knowledge of Miriam's crime within her tender and +delicate soul, the effect was almost the same as if she herself had +participated in the guilt. Indeed, partaking the human nature of +those who could perpetrate such deeds, she felt her own spotlessness +impugnent. + +Had there been but a single friend,--or not a friend, since friends were +no longer to be confided in, after Miriam had betrayed her trust,--but, +had there been any calm, wise mind, any sympathizing intelligence; or, +if not these, any dull, half-listening ear into which she might have +flung the dreadful secret, as into an echoless cavern, what a relief +would have ensued! But this awful loneliness! It enveloped her +whithersoever she went. It was a shadow in the sunshine of festal days; +a mist between her eyes and the pictures at which she strove to look; a +chill dungeon, which kept her in its gray twilight and fed her with its +unwholesome air, fit only for a criminal to breathe and pine in! She +could not escape from it. In the effort to do so, straying farther into +the intricate passages of our nature, she stumbled, ever and again, over +this deadly idea of mortal guilt. + +Poor sufferer for another's sin! Poor wellspring of a virgin's heart, +into which a murdered corpse had casually fallen, and whence it could +not be drawn forth again, but lay there, day after day, night after +night, tainting its sweet atmosphere with the scent of crime and ugly +death! + +The strange sorrow that had befallen Hilda did not fail to impress +its mysterious seal upon her face, and to make itself perceptible to +sensitive observers in her manner and carriage. A young Italian artist, +who frequented the same galleries which Hilda haunted, grew deeply +interested in her expression. One day, while she stood before Leonardo +da Vinci's picture of Joanna of Aragon, but evidently without seeing +it,--for, though it had attracted her eyes, a fancied resemblance to +Miriam had immediately drawn away her thoughts,--this artist drew a +hasty sketch which he afterwards elaborated into a finished portrait. It +represented Hilda as gazing with sad and earnest horror at a bloodspot +which she seemed just then to have discovered on her white robe. The +picture attracted considerable notice. Copies of an engraving from +it may still be found in the print shops along the Corso. By many +connoisseurs, the idea of the face was supposed to have been suggested +by the portrait of Beatrice Cenci; and, in fact, there was a look +somewhat similar to poor Beatrice's forlorn gaze out of the dreary +isolation and remoteness, in which a terrible doom had involved a tender +soul. But the modern artist strenuously upheld the originality of his +own picture, as well as the stainless purity its subject, and chose +to call it--and was laughed at for his pains--"Innocence, dying of a +Blood-stain!" + +"Your picture, Signore Panini, does you credit," remarked the picture +dealer, who had bought it of the young man for fifteen scudi, and +afterwards sold it for ten times the sum; "but it would be worth a +better price if you had given it a more intelligible title. Looking at +the face and expression of this fair signorina, we seem to comprehend +readily enough, that she is undergoing one or another of those troubles +of the heart to which young ladies are but too liable. But what is this +blood-stain? And what has innocence to do with it? Has she stabbed her +perfidious lover with a bodkin?" + +"She! she commit a crime!" cried the young artist. "Can you look at the +innocent anguish in her face, and ask that question? No; but, as I +read the mystery, a man has been slain in her presence, and the blood, +spurting accidentally on her white robe, has made a stain which eats +into her life." + +"Then, in the name of her patron saint," exclaimed the picture dealer, +"why don't she get the robe made white again at the expense of a few +baiocchi to her washerwoman? No, no, my dear Panini. The picture being +now my property, I shall call it 'The Signorina's Vengeance.' She +has stabbed her lover overnight, and is repenting it betimes the next +morning. So interpreted, the picture becomes an intelligible and very +natural representation of a not uncommon fact." + +Thus coarsely does the world translate all finer griefs that meet its +eye. It is more a coarse world than an unkind one. + +But Hilda sought nothing either from the world's delicacy or its pity, +and never dreamed of its misinterpretations. Her doves often flew in +through the windows of the tower, winged messengers, bringing her what +sympathy they could, and uttering soft, tender, and complaining sounds, +deep in their bosoms, which soothed the girl more than a distincter +utterance might. And sometimes Hilda moaned quietly among the doves, +teaching her voice to accord with theirs, and thus finding a temporary +relief from the burden of her incommunicable sorrow, as if a little +portion of it, at least, had been told to these innocent friends, and +been understood and pitied. + +When she trimmed the lamp before the Virgin's shrine, Hilda gazed at +the sacred image, and, rude as was the workmanship, beheld, or fancied, +expressed with the quaint, powerful simplicity which sculptors sometimes +had five hundred years ago, a woman's tenderness responding to her +gaze. If she knelt, if she prayed, if her oppressed heart besought the +sympathy of divine womanhood afar in bliss, but not remote, because +forever humanized by the memory of mortal griefs, was Hilda to be +blamed? It was not a Catholic kneeling at an idolatrous shrine, but a +child lifting its tear-stained face to seek comfort from a mother. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +THE EMPTINESS OF PICTURE GALLERIES + + +Hilda descended, day by day, from her dove-cote, and went to one or +another of the great old palaces,--the Pamfili Doria, the Corsini, the +Sciarra, the Borghese, the Colonna,--where the doorkeepers knew her +well, and offered her a kindly greeting. But they shook their heads and +sighed, on observing the languid step with which the poor girl toiled up +the grand marble staircases. There was no more of that cheery alacrity +with which she used to flit upward, as if her doves had lent her their +wings, nor of that glow of happy spirits which had been wont to set the +tarnished gilding of the picture frames and the shabby splendor of the +furniture all a-glimmer, as she hastened to her congenial and delightful +toil. + +An old German artist, whom she often met in the galleries, once laid a +paternal hand on Hilda's head, and bade her go back to her own country. + + +"Go back soon," he said, with kindly freedom and directness, "or you +will go never more. And, if you go not, why, at least, do you spend the +whole summer-time in Rome? The air has been breathed too often, in so +many thousand years, and is not wholesome for a little foreign +flower like you, my child, a delicate wood-anemone from the western +forest-land." + +"I have no task nor duty anywhere but here," replied Hilda. "The old +masters will not set me free!" + +"Ah, those old masters!" cried the veteran artist, shaking his head. +"They are a tyrannous race! You will find them of too mighty a spirit to +be dealt with, for long together, by the slender hand, the fragile mind, +and the delicate heart, of a young girl. Remember that Raphael's genius +wore out that divinest painter before half his life was lived. Since you +feel his influence powerfully enough to reproduce his miracles so well, +it will assuredly consume you like a flame." + +"That might have been my peril once," answered Hilda. "It is not so +now." + +"Yes, fair maiden, you stand in that peril now!" insisted the kind old +man; and he added, smiling, yet in a melancholy vein, and with a +German grotesqueness of idea, "Some fine morning, I shall come to the +Pinacotheca of the Vatican, with my palette and my brushes, and shall +look for my little American artist that sees into the very heart of the +grand pictures! And what shall I behold? A heap of white ashes on the +marble floor, just in front of the divine Raphael's picture of the +Madonna da Foligno! Nothing more, upon my word! The fire, which the poor +child feels so fervently, will have gone into her innermost, and burnt +her quite up!" + +"It would be a happy martyrdom!" said Hilda, faintly smiling. "But I +am far from being worthy of it. What troubles me much, among other +troubles, is quite the reverse of what you think. The old masters hold +me here, it is true, but they no longer warm me with their influence. +It is not flame consuming, but torpor chilling me, that helps to make me +wretched." + +"Perchance, then," said the German, looking keenly at her, "Raphael has +a rival in your heart? He was your first love; but young maidens are not +always constant, and one flame is sometimes extinguished by another!" +Hilda shook her head, and turned away. She had spoken the truth, +however, in alleging that torpor, rather than fire, was what she had +to dread. In those gloomy days that had befallen her, it was a great +additional calamity that she felt conscious of the present dimness of an +insight which she once possessed in more than ordinary measure. She had +lost--and she trembled lest it should have departed forever--the faculty +of appreciating those great works of art, which heretofore had made so +large a portion of her happiness. It was no wonder. + +A picture, however admirable the painter's art, and wonderful his power, +requires of the spectator a surrender of himself, in due proportion with +the miracle which has been wrought. Let the canvas glow as it may, you +must look with the eye of faith, or its highest excellence escapes you. +There is always the necessity of helping out the painter's art with your +own resources of sensibility and imagination. Not that these qualities +shall really add anything to what the master has effected; but they must +be put so entirely under his control, and work along with him to such +an extent, that, in a different mood, when you are cold and critical, +instead of sympathetic, you will be apt to fancy that the loftier merits +of the picture were of your own dreaming, not of his creating. + +Like all revelations of the better life, the adequate perception of a +great work of art demands a gifted simplicity of vision. In this, and +in her self-surrender, and the depth and tenderness of her sympathy, had +lain Hilda's remarkable power as a copyist of the old masters. And now +that her capacity of emotion was choked up with a horrible experience, +it inevitably followed that she should seek in vain, among those friends +so venerated and beloved, for the marvels which they had heretofore +shown her. In spite of a reverence that lingered longer than her +recognition, their poor worshipper became almost an infidel, and +sometimes doubted whether the pictorial art be not altogether a +delusion. + +For the first time in her life, Hilda now grew acquainted with that +icy demon of weariness, who haunts great picture galleries. He is +a plausible Mephistopheles, and possesses the magic that is the +destruction of all other magic. He annihilates color, warmth, and, more +especially, sentiment and passion, at a touch. If he spare anything, it +will be some such matter as an earthen pipkin, or a bunch of herrings by +Teniers; a brass kettle, in which you can see your rice, by Gerard Douw; +a furred robe, or the silken texture of a mantle, or a straw hat, by Van +Mieris; or a long-stalked wineglass, transparent and full of shifting +reflection, or a bit of bread and cheese, or an over-ripe peach with +a fly upon it, truer than reality itself, by the school of Dutch +conjurers. These men, and a few Flemings, whispers the wicked demon, +were the only painters. The mighty Italian masters, as you deem them, +were not human, nor addressed their work to human sympathies, but to +a false intellectual taste, which they themselves were the first to +create. Well might they call their doings "art," for they substituted +art instead of nature. Their fashion is past, and ought, indeed, to have +died and been buried along with them. + +Then there is such a terrible lack of variety in their subjects. The +churchmen, their great patrons, suggested most of their themes, and +a dead mythology the rest. A quarter part, probably, of any large +collection of pictures consists of Virgins and infant Christs, repeated +over and over again in pretty much an identical spirit, and generally +with no more mixture of the Divine than just enough to spoil them as +representations of maternity and childhood, with which everybody's heart +might have something to do. Half of the other pictures are Magdalens, +Flights into Egypt, Crucifixions, Depositions from the Cross, Pietas, +Noli-me-tangeres, or the Sacrifice of Abraham, or martyrdoms of saints, +originally painted as altar-pieces, or for the shrines of chapels, and +woefully lacking the accompaniments which the artist haft in view. + +The remainder of the gallery comprises mythological subjects, such as +nude Venuses, Ledas, Graces, and, in short, a general apotheosis of +nudity, once fresh and rosy perhaps, but yellow and dingy in our day, +and retaining only a traditionary charm. These impure pictures are from +the same illustrious and impious hands that adventured to call before +us the august forms of Apostles and Saints, the Blessed Mother of the +Redeemer, and her Son, at his death, and in his glory, and even the +awfulness of Him, to whom the martyrs, dead a thousand years ago, have +not yet dared to raise their eyes. They seem to take up one task or the +other w the disrobed woman whom they call Venus, or the type of highest +and tenderest womanhood in the mother of their Saviour with equal +readiness, but to achieve the former with far more satisfactory success. +If an artist sometimes produced a picture of the Virgin, possessing +warmth enough to excite devotional feelings, it was probably the object +of his earthly love to whom he thus paid the stupendous and fearful +homage of setting up her portrait to be worshipped, not figuratively as +a mortal, but by religious souls in their earnest aspirations towards +Divinity. And who can trust the religious sentiment of Raphael, or +receive any of his Virgins as heaven-descended likenesses, after seeing, +for example, the Fornarina of the Barberini Palace, and feeling how +sensual the artist must have been to paint such a brazen trollop of his +own accord, and lovingly? Would the Blessed Mary reveal herself to his +spiritual vision, and favor him with sittings alternately with that type +of glowing earthliness, the Fornarina? + +But no sooner have we given expression to this irreverent criticism, +than a throng of spiritual faces look reproachfully upon us. We see +cherubs by Raphael, whose baby innocence could only have been nursed +in paradise; angels by Raphael as innocent as they, but whose serene +intelligence embraces both earthly and celestial things; madonnas by +Raphael, on whose lips he has impressed a holy and delicate reserve, +implying sanctity on earth, and into whose soft eyes he has thrown a +light which he never could have imagined except by raising his own +eyes with a pure aspiration heavenward. We remember, too, that divinest +countenance in the Transfiguration, and withdraw all that we have said. + +Poor Hilda, however, in her gloomiest moments, was never guilty of the +high treason suggested in the above remarks against her beloved and +honored Raphael. She had a faculty (which, fortunately for themselves, +pure women often have) of ignoring all moral blotches in a character +that won her admiration. She purified the objects; of her regard by the +mere act of turning such spotless eyes upon them. + +Hilda's despondency, nevertheless, while it dulled her perceptions in +one respect, had deepened them in another; she saw beauty less vividly, +but felt truth, or the lack of it, more profoundly. She began to suspect +that some, at least, of her venerated painters, had left an inevitable +hollowness in their works, because, in the most renowned of them, they +essayed to express to the world what they had not in their own souls. +They deified their light and Wandering affections, and were continually +playing off the tremendous jest, alluded to above, of offering the +features of some venal beauty to be enshrined in the holiest places. A +deficiency of earnestness and absolute truth is generally discoverable +in Italian pictures, after the art had become consummate. When you +demand what is deepest, these painters have not wherewithal to respond. +They substituted a keen intellectual perception, and a marvellous knack +of external arrangement, instead of the live sympathy and sentiment +which should have been their inspiration. And hence it happens, that +shallow and worldly men are among the best critics of their works; a +taste for pictorial art is often no more than a polish upon the hard +enamel of an artificial character. Hilda had lavished her whole heart +upon it, and found (just as if she had lavished it upon a human idol) +that the greater part was thrown away. + +For some of the earlier painters, however, she still retained much +of her former reverence. Fra Angelico, she felt, must have breathed a +humble aspiration between every two touches of his brush, in order to +have made the finished picture such a visible prayer as we behold it, in +the guise of a prim angel, or a saint without the human nature. Through +all these dusky centuries, his works may still help a struggling heart +to pray. Perugino was evidently a devout man; and the Virgin, therefore, +revealed herself to him in loftier and sweeter faces of celestial +womanhood, and yet with a kind of homeliness in their human mould, than +even the genius of Raphael could imagine. Sodoma, beyond a question, +both prayed and wept, while painting his fresco, at Siena, of Christ +bound to a pillar. + +In her present need and hunger for a spiritual revelation, Hilda felt a +vast and weary longing to see this last-mentioned picture once again. It +is inexpressibly touching. So weary is the Saviour and utterly worn out +with agony, that his lips have fallen apart from mere exhaustion; his +eyes seem to be set; he tries to lean his head against the pillar, but +is kept from sinking down upon the ground only by the cords that +bind him. One of the most striking effects produced is the sense of +loneliness. You behold Christ deserted both in heaven and earth; that +despair is in him which wrung forth the saddest utterance man ever made, +"Why hast Thou forsaken me?" Even in this extremity, however, he is +still divine. The great and reverent painter has not suffered the Son of +God to be merely an object of pity, though depicting him in a state so +profoundly pitiful. He is rescued from it, we know not how,--by nothing +less than miracle,--by a celestial majesty and beauty, and some quality +of which these are the outward garniture. He is as much, and as visibly, +our Redeemer, there bound, there fainting, and bleeding from the +scourge, with the cross in view, as if he sat on his throne of glory in +the heavens! Sodoma, in this matchless picture, has done more towards +reconciling the incongruity of Divine Omnipotence and outraged, +suffering Humanity, combined in one person, than the theologians ever +did. + +This hallowed work of genius shows what pictorial art, devoutly +exercised, might effect in behalf of religious truth; involving, as it +does, deeper mysteries of revelation, and bringing them closer to man's +heart, and making him tenderer to be impressed by them, than the most +eloquent words of preacher or prophet. + +It is not of pictures like the above that galleries, in Rome or +elsewhere, are made up, but of productions immeasurably below them, +and requiring to be appreciated by a very different frame of mind. Few +amateurs are endowed with a tender susceptibility to the sentiment of +a picture; they are not won from an evil life, nor anywise morally +improved by it. The love of art, therefore, differs widely in its +influence from the love of nature; whereas, if art had not strayed away +from its legitimate paths and aims, it ought to soften and sweeten +the lives of its worshippers, in even a more exquisite degree than the +contemplation of natural objects. But, of its own potency, it has no +such effect; and it fails, likewise, in that other test of its moral +value which poor Hilda was now involuntarily trying upon it. It cannot +comfort the heart in affliction; it grows dim when the shadow is upon +us. + +So the melancholy girl wandered through those long galleries, and over +the mosaic pavements of vast, solitary saloons, wondering what had +become of the splendor that used to beam upon her from the walls. She +grew sadly critical, and condemned almost everything that she was wont +to admire. Heretofore, her sympathy went deeply into a picture, yet +seemed to leave a depth which it was inadequate to sound; now, on the +contrary, her perceptive faculty penetrated the canvas like a steel +probe, and found but a crust of paint over an emptiness. Not that she +gave up all art as worthless; only it had lost its consecration. One +picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the applause of +mankind, from generation to generation, until the colors fade and +blacken out of sight, or the canvas rot entirely away. For the rest, let +them be piled in garrets, just as the tolerable poets are shelved, when +their little day is over. Is a painter more sacred than a poet? + +And as for these galleries of Roman palaces, they were to Hilda, +--though she still trod them with the forlorn hope of getting back her +sympathies,--they were drearier than the whitewashed walls of a prison +corridor. If a magnificent palace were founded, as was generally the +case, on hardened guilt and a stony conscience,--if the prince or +cardinal who stole the marble of his vast mansion from the Coliseum, or +some Roman temple, had perpetrated still deadlier crimes, as probably he +did,--there could be no fitter punishment for his ghost than to wander, +perpetually through these long suites of rooms, over the cold marble or +mosaic of the floors, growing chiller at every eternal footstep. Fancy +the progenitor of the Dorias thus haunting those heavy halls where +his posterity reside! Nor would it assuage his monotonous misery, but +increase it manifold, to be compelled to scrutinize those masterpieces +of art, which he collected with so much cost and care, and gazing at +them unintelligently, still leave a further portion of his vital warmth +at every one. + +Such, or of a similar kind, is the torment of those who seek to enjoy +pictures in an uncongenial mood. Every haunter of picture galleries, +we should imagine, must have experienced it, in greater or less degree; +Hilda never till now, but now most bitterly. + +And now, for the first time in her lengthened absence, comprising +so many years of her young life, she began to be acquainted with the +exile's pain. Her pictorial imagination brought up vivid scenes of her +native village, with its great old elm-trees; and the neat, comfortable +houses, scattered along the wide, grassy margin of its street, and the +white meeting-house, and her mother's very door, and the stream of gold +brown water, which her taste for color had kept flowing, all this +while, through her remembrance. O dreary streets, palaces, churches, and +imperial sepulchres of hot and dusty Rome, with the muddy Tiber eddying +through the midst, instead of the gold-brown rivulet! How she pined +under this crumbly magnificence, as if it were piled all upon her +human heart! How she yearned for that native homeliness, those familiar +sights, those faces which she had known always, those days that never +brought any strange event; that life of sober week-days, and a solemn +sabbath at the close! The peculiar fragrance of a flower-bed, which +Hilda used to cultivate, came freshly to her memory, across the windy +sea, and through the long years since the flowers had withered. Her +heart grew faint at the hundred reminiscences that were awakened by that +remembered smell of dead blossoms; it was like opening a drawer, where +many things were laid away, and every one of them scented with lavender +and dried rose-leaves. + +We ought not to betray Hilda's secret; but it is the truth, that being +so sad, and so utterly alone, and in such great need of sympathy, her +thoughts sometimes recurred to the sculptor. Had she met him now, her +heart, indeed, might not have been won, but her confidence would have +flown to him like a bird to its nest. One summer afternoon, especially, +Hilda leaned upon the battlements of her tower, and looked over Rome +towards the distant mountains, whither Kenyon had told her that he was +going. + +"O that he were here!" she sighed; "I perish under this terrible secret; +and he might help me to endure it. O that he were here!" + +That very afternoon, as the reader may remember, Kenyon felt +Hilda's hand pulling at the silken cord that was connected with his +heart-strings, as he stood looking towards Rome from the battlements of +Monte Beni. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +ALTARS AND INCENSE + + +Rome has a certain species of consolation readier at hand, for all the +necessitous, than any other spot under the sun; and Hilda's despondent +state made her peculiarly liable to the peril, if peril it can justly be +termed, of seeking, or consenting, to be thus consoled. + +Had the Jesuits known the situation of this troubled heart, her +inheritance of New England Puritanism would hardly have protected the +poor girl from the pious strategy of those good fathers. Knowing, as +they do, how to work each proper engine, it would have been ultimately +impossible for Hilda to resist the attractions of a faith, which so +marvellously adapts itself to every human need. Not, indeed, that it can +satisfy the soul's cravings, but, at least, it can sometimes help +the soul towards a higher satisfaction than the faith contains within +itself. It supplies a multitude of external forms, in which the +spiritual may be clothed and manifested; it has many painted windows, +as it were, through which the celestial sunshine, else disregarded, may +make itself gloriously perceptible in visions of beauty and splendor. +There is no one want or weakness of human nature for which Catholicism +will own itself without a remedy; cordials, certainly, it possesses in +abundance, and sedatives in inexhaustible variety, and what may once +have been genuine medicaments, though a little the worse for long +keeping. + +To do it justice, Catholicism is such a miracle of fitness for its +own ends, many of which might seem to be admirable ones, that it is +difficult to imagine it a contrivance of mere man. Its mighty machinery +was forged and put together, not on middle earth, but either above +or below. If there were but angels to work it, instead of the very +different class of engineers who now manage its cranks and safety +valves, the system would soon vindicate the dignity and holiness of its +origin. + +Hilda had heretofore made many pilgrimages among the churches of Rome, +for the sake of wondering at their gorgeousness. Without a glimpse at +these palaces of worship, it is impossible to imagine the magnificence +of the religion that reared them. Many of them shine with burnished +gold. They glow with pictures. Their walls, columns, and arches seem a +quarry of precious stones, so beautiful and costly are the marbles +with which they are inlaid. Their pavements are often a mosaic, of rare +workmanship. Around their lofty cornices hover flights of sculptured +angels; and within the vault of the ceiling and the swelling interior +of the dome, there are frescos of such brilliancy, and wrought with so +artful a perspective, that the sky, peopled with sainted forms, appears +to be opened only a little way above the spectator. Then there are +chapels, opening from the side aisles and transepts, decorated by +princes for their own burial places, and as shrines for their especial +saints. In these, the splendor of the entire edifice is intensified +and gathered to a focus. Unless words were gems, that would flame with +many-colored light upon the page, and throw thence a tremulous glimmer +into the reader's eyes, it were wain to attempt a description of a +princely chapel. + +Restless with her trouble, Hilda now entered upon another pilgrimage +among these altars and shrines. She climbed the hundred steps of the Ara +Coeli; she trod the broad, silent nave of St. John Lateran; she stood +in the Pantheon, under the round opening in the dome, through which +the blue sunny sky still gazes down, as it used to gaze when there were +Roman deities in the antique niches. She went into every church that +rose before her, but not now to wonder at its magnificence, when she +hardly noticed more than if it had been the pine-built interior of a New +England meeting-house. + +She went--and it was a dangerous errand--to observe how closely and +comfortingly the popish faith applied itself to all human occasions. It +was impossible to doubt that multitudes of people found their spiritual +advantage in it, who would find none at all in our own formless mode of +worship; which, besides, so far as the sympathy of prayerful souls is +concerned, can be enjoyed only at stated and too unfrequent periods. But +here, whenever the hunger for divine nutriment came upon the soul, it +could on the instant be appeased. At one or another altar, the incense +was forever ascending; the mass always being performed, and carrying +upward with it the devotion of such as had not words for their own +prayer. And yet, if the worshipper had his individual petition to offer, +his own heart-secret to whisper below his breath, there were divine +auditors ever ready to receive it from his lips; and what encouraged him +still more, these auditors had not always been divine, but kept, within +their heavenly memories, the tender humility of a human experience. Now +a saint in heaven, but once a man on earth. + +Hilda saw peasants, citizens, soldiers, nobles, women with bare heads, +ladies in their silks, entering the churches individually, kneeling for +moments or for hours, and directing their inaudible devotions to the +shrine of some saint of their own choice. In his hallowed person, they +felt themselves possessed of an own friend in heaven. They were too +humble to approach the Deity directly. Conscious of their unworthiness, +they asked the mediation of their sympathizing patron, who, on the score +of his ancient martyrdom, and after many ages of celestial life, might +venture to talk with the Divine Presence, almost as friend with friend. +Though dumb before its Judge, even despair could speak, and pour out the +misery of its soul like water, to an advocate so wise to comprehend the +case, and eloquent to plead it, and powerful to win pardon whatever +were the guilt. Hilda witnessed what she deemed to be an example of this +species of confidence between a young man and his saint. He stood before +a shrine, writhing, wringing his hands, contorting his whole frame in +an agony of remorseful recollection, but finally knelt down to weep and +pray. If this youth had been a Protestant, he would have kept all that +torture pent up in his heart, and let it burn there till it seared him +into indifference. + +Often and long, Hilda lingered before the shrines and chapels of the +Virgin, and departed from them with reluctant steps. Here, perhaps, +strange as it may seem, her delicate appreciation of art stood her +in good stead, and lost Catholicism a convert. If the painter had +represented Mary with a heavenly face, poor Hilda was now in the very +mood to worship her, and adopt the faith in which she held so elevated +a position. But she saw that it was merely the flattered portrait of +an earthly beauty; the wife, at best, of the artist; or, it might be, a +peasant girl of the Campagna, or some Roman princess, to whom he desired +to pay his court. For love, or some even less justifiable motive, the +old painter had apotheosized these women; he thus gained for them, as +far as his skill would go, not only the meed of immortality, but the +privilege of presiding over Christian altars, and of being worshipped +with far holier fervors than while they dwelt on earth. Hilda's fine +sense of the fit and decorous could not be betrayed into kneeling at +such a shrine. + +She never found just the virgin mother whom she needed. Here it was +an earthly mother, worshipping the earthly baby in her lap, as any and +every mother does, from Eve's time downward. In another picture, there +was a dim sense, shown in the mother's face, of some divine quality +in the child. In a third, the artist seemed to have had a higher +perception, and had striven hard to shadow out the Virgin's joy at +bringing the Saviour into the world, and her awe and love, inextricably +mingled, of the little form which she pressed against her bosom. So +far was good. But still, Hilda looked for something more; a face of +celestial beauty, but human as well as heavenly, and with the shadow +of past grief upon it; bright with immortal youth, yet matronly and +motherly; and endowed with a queenly dignity, but infinitely tender, as +the highest and deepest attribute of her divinity. + +"Ah," thought Hilda to herself, "why should not there be a woman to +listen to the prayers of women? A mother in heaven for all motherless +girls like me? In all God's thought and care for us, can he have +withheld this boon, which our weakness so much needs?" + +Oftener than to the other churches, she wandered into St. Peter's. +Within its vast limits, she thought, and beneath the sweep of its great +dome, there should be space for all forms of Christian truth; room both +for the faithful and the heretic to kneel; due help for every creature's +spiritual want. + +Hilda had not always been adequately impressed by the grandeur of this +mighty cathedral. When she first lifted the heavy leathern curtain, at +one of the doors, a shadowy edifice in her imagination had been dazzled +out of sight by the reality. Her preconception of St. Peter's was a +structure of no definite outline, misty in its architecture, dim +and gray and huge, stretching into an interminable perspective, and +overarched by a dome like the cloudy firmament. Beneath that vast +breadth and height, as she had fancied them, the personal man might +feel his littleness, and the soul triumph in its immensity. So, in +her earlier visits, when the compassed splendor Of the actual interior +glowed before her eyes, she had profanely called it a great prettiness; +a gay piece of cabinet work, on a Titanic scale; a jewel casket, +marvellously magnified. + +This latter image best pleased her fancy; a casket, all inlaid in the +inside with precious stones of various hue, so that there Should not be +a hair's-breadth of the small interior unadorned with its resplendent +gem. Then, conceive this minute wonder of a mosaic box, increased to +the magnitude of a cathedral, without losing the intense lustre of its +littleness, but all its petty glory striving to be sublime. The magic +transformation from the minute to the vast has not been so cunningly +effected but that the rich adornment still counteracts the impression of +space and loftiness. The spectator is more sensible of its limits than +of its extent. + +Until after many visits, Hilda continued to mourn for that dim, +illimitable interior, which with her eyes shut she had seen from +childhood, but which vanished at her first glimpse through the actual +door. Her childish vision seemed preferable to the cathedral which +Michael Angelo, and all the great architects, had built; because, of +the dream edifice, she had said, "How vast it is!" while of the real St. +Peter's she could only say, "After all, it is not so immense!" Besides, +such as the church is, it can nowhere be made visible at one glance. +It stands in its own way. You see an aisle, or a transept; you see the +nave, or the tribune; but, on account of its ponderous piers and other +obstructions, it is only by this fragmentary process that you get an +idea of the cathedral. + +There is no answering such objections. The great church smiles calmly +upon its critics, and, for all response, says, "Look at me!" and if you +still murmur for the loss of your shadowy perspective, there comes no +reply, save, "Look at me!" in endless repetition, as the one thing to +be said. And, after looking many times, with long intervals between, you +discover that the cathedral has gradually extended itself over the whole +compass of your idea; it covers all the site of your visionary temple, +and has room for its cloudy pinnacles beneath the dome. + +One afternoon, as Hilda entered St. Peter's in sombre mood, its interior +beamed upon her with all the effect of a new creation. It seemed an +embodiment of whatever the imagination could conceive, or the heart +desire, as a magnificent, comprehensive, majestic symbol of religious +faith. All splendor was included within its verge, and there was space +for all. She gazed with delight even at the multiplicity of ornament. +She was glad at the cherubim that fluttered upon the pilasters, and of +the marble doves, hovering unexpectedly, with green olive-branches +of precious stones. She could spare nothing, now, of the manifold +magnificence that had been lavished, in a hundred places, richly enough +to have made world-famous shrines in any other church, but which +here melted away into the vast sunny breadth, and were of no separate +account. Yet each contributed its little all towards the grandeur of the +whole. + +She would not have banished one of those grim popes, who sit each over +his own tomb, scattering cold benedictions out of their marble hands; +nor a single frozen sister of the Allegoric family, to whom--as, like +hired mourners at an English funeral, it costs them no wear and tear of +heart--is assigned the office of weeping for the dead. If you choose to +see these things, they present themselves; if you deem them unsuitable +and out of place, they vanish, individually, but leave their life upon +the walls. + +The pavement! it stretched out illimitably, a plain of many-colored +marble, where thousands of worshippers might kneel together, and +shadowless angels tread among them without brushing their heavenly +garments against those earthly ones. The roof! the dome! Rich, gorgeous, +filled with sunshine, cheerfully sublime, and fadeless after +centuries, those lofty depths seemed to translate the heavens to mortal +comprehension, and help the spirit upward to a yet higher and wider +sphere. Must not the faith, that built this matchless edifice, and +warmed, illuminated, and overflowed from it, include whatever can +satisfy human aspirations at the loftiest, or minister to human +necessity at the sorest? If Religion had a material home, was it not +here? + +As the scene which we but faintly suggest shone calmly before the New +England maiden at her entrance, she moved, as if by very instinct, to +one of the vases of holy water, upborne against a column by two mighty +cherubs. Hilda dipped her fingers, and had almost signed the cross upon +her breast, but forbore, and trembled, while shaking the water from her +finger-tips. She felt as if her mother's spirit, somewhere within +the dome, were looking down upon her child, the daughter of Puritan +forefathers, and weeping to behold her ensnared by these gaudy +superstitions. So she strayed sadly onward, up the nave, and towards the +hundred golden lights that swarm before the high altar. Seeing a woman; +a priest, and a soldier kneel to kiss the toe of the brazen St. Peter, +who protrudes it beyond his pedestal for the purpose, polished bright +with former salutations, while a child stood on tiptoe to do the same, +the glory of the church was darkened before Hilda's eyes. But again she +went onward into remoter regions. She turned into the right transept, +and thence found her way to a shrine, in the extreme corner of the +edifice, which is adorned with a mosaic copy of Guido's beautiful +Archangel, treading on the prostrate fiend. + +This was one of the few pictures, which, in these dreary days, had not +faded nor deteriorated in Hilda's estimation; not that it was better +than many in which she no longer took an interest; but the subtile +delicacy of the painter's genius was peculiarly adapted to her +character. She felt, while gazing at it, that the artist had done a +great thing, not merely for the Church of Rome, but for the cause of +Good. The moral of the picture, the immortal youth and loveliness of +virtue, and its irresistibles might against ugly Evil, appealed as much +to Puritans as Catholics. + +Suddenly, and as if it were done in a dream, Hilda found herself +kneeling before the shrine, under the ever-burning lamp that throws +its rays upon the Archangel's face. She laid her forehead on the marble +steps before the altar, and sobbed out a prayer; she hardly knew to +whom, whether Michael, the Virgin, or the Father; she hardly knew for +what, save only a vague longing, that thus the burden of her spirit +might be lightened a little. + +In an instant she snatched herself up, as it were, from her knees, all +a-throb with the emotions which were struggling to force their way out +of her heart by the avenue that had so nearly been opened for them. Yet +there was a strange sense of relief won by that momentary, passionate +prayer; a strange joy, moreover, whether from what she had done, or for +what she had escaped doing, Hilda could not tell. But she felt as one +half stifled, who has stolen a breath of air. + +Next to the shrine where she had knelt there is another, adorned with +a picture by Guercino, representing a maiden's body in the jaws of the +sepulchre, and her lover weeping over it; while her beatified spirit +looks down upon the scene, in the society of the Saviour and a throng +of saints. Hilda wondered if it were not possible, by some miracle of +faith, so to rise above her present despondency that she might look down +upon what she was, just as Petronilla in the picture looked at her own +corpse. A hope, born of hysteric trouble, fluttered in her heart. A +presentiment, or what she fancied such, whispered her, that, before she +had finished the circuit of the cathedral, relief would come. + +The unhappy are continually tantalized by similar delusions of succor +near at hand; at least, the despair is very dark that has no such +will-o'-the-wisp to glimmer in it. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +THE WORLD'S CATHEDRAL + + +Still gliding onward, Hilda now looked up into the dome, where the +sunshine came through the western windows, and threw across long shafts +of light. They rested upon the mosaic figures of two evangelists above +the cornice. These great beams of radiance, traversing what seemed the +empty space, were made visible in misty glory, by the holy cloud of +incense, else unseen, which had risen into the middle dome. It was to +Hilda as if she beheld the worship of the priest and people ascending +heavenward, purified from its alloy of earth, and acquiring celestial +substance in the golden atmosphere to which it aspired, She wondered if +angels did not sometimes hover within the dome, and show themselves, in +brief glimpses, floating amid the sunshine and the glorified vapor, to +those who devoutly worshipped on the pavement. + +She had now come into the southern transept. Around this portion of the +church are ranged a number of confessionals. They are small tabernacles +of carved wood, with a closet for the priest in the centre; and, on +either side, a space for a penitent to kneel, and breathe his confession +through a perforated auricle into the good father's ear. Observing this +arrangement, though already familiar to her, our poor Hilda was anew +impressed with the infinite convenience--if we may use so poor a +phrase--of the Catholic religion to its devout believers. + +Who, in truth, that considers the matter, can resist a similar +impression! In the hottest fever-fit of life, they can always find, +ready for their need, a cool, quiet, beautiful place of worship. They +may enter its sacred precincts at any hour, leaving the fret and trouble +of the world behind them, and purifying themselves with a touch of +holy water at the threshold. In the calm interior, fragrant of rich and +soothing incense, they may hold converse with some saint, their awful, +kindly friend. And, most precious privilege of all, whatever perplexity, +sorrow, guilt, may weigh upon their souls, they can fling down the dark +burden at the foot of the cross, and go forth--to sin no more, nor be +any longer disquieted; but to live again in the freshness and elasticity +of innocence. + +"Do not these inestimable advantages," thought Hilda, "or some of them +at least, belong to Christianity itself? Are they not a part of the +blessings which the system was meant to bestow upon mankind? Can the +faith in which I was born and bred be perfect, if it leave a weak girl +like me to wander, desolate, with this great trouble crushing me down?" + +A poignant anguish thrilled within her breast; it was like a thing that +had life, and was struggling to get out. + +"O help! O help!" cried Hilda; "I cannot, cannot bear it!" + +Only by the reverberations that followed--arch echoing the sound to +arch, and a pope of bronze repeating it to a pope of marble, as each +sat enthroned over his tomb--did Hilda become aware that she had really +spoken above her breath. But, in that great space, there is no need to +hush up the heart within one's own bosom, so carefully as elsewhere; +and if the cry reached any distant auditor, it came broken into many +fragments, and from various quarters of the church. + +Approaching one of the confessionals, she saw a woman kneeling within. +Just as Hilda drew near, the penitent rose, came forth, and kissed the +hand of the priest, who regarded her with a look of paternal benignity, +and appeared to be giving her some spiritual counsel, in a low voice. +She then knelt to receive his blessing, which was fervently bestowed. +Hilda was so struck with the peace and joy in the woman's face, that, as +the latter retired, she could not help speaking to her. + +"You look very happy!" said she. "Is it so sweet, then, to go to the +confessional?" + +"O, very sweet, my dear signorina!" answered the woman, with moistened +eyes and an affectionate smile; for she was so thoroughly softened with +what she had been doing, that she felt as if Hilda were her younger +sister. "My heart is at rest now. Thanks be to the Saviour, and the +Blessed Virgin and the saints, and this good father, there is no more +trouble for poor Teresa!" + +"I am glad for your sake," said Hilda, sighing for her own. "I am a poor +heretic, but a human sister; and I rejoice for you!" + +She went from one to another of the confessionals, and, looking at +each, perceived that they were inscribed with gilt letters: on one, +Pro Italica Lingua; on another, Pro Flandrica Lingua; on a third, Pro +Polonica Lingua; on a fourth, Pro Illyrica Lingua; on a fifth, Pro +Hispanica Lingua. In this vast and hospitable cathedral, worthy to be +the religious heart of the whole world, there was room for all nations; +there was access to the Divine Grace for every Christian soul; there was +an ear for what the overburdened heart might have to murmur, speak in +what native tongue it would. + +When Hilda had almost completed the circuit of the transept, she came to +a confessional--the central part was closed, but a mystic room protruded +from it, indicating the presence of a priest within--on which was +inscribed, Pro Anglica Lingua. + +It was the word in season! If she had heard her mother's voice from +within the tabernacle, calling her, in her own mother-tongue, to come +and lay her poor head in her lap, and sob out all her troubles, Hilda +could not have responded with a more inevitable obedience. She did not +think; she only felt. Within her heart was a great need. Close at hand, +within the veil of the confessional, was the relief. She flung herself +down in the penitent's place; and, tremulously, passionately, with sobs, +tears, and the turbulent overflow of emotion too long repressed, she +poured out the dark story which had infused its poison into her innocent +life. + +Hilda had not seen, nor could she now see, the visage of the priest. +But, at intervals, in the pauses of that strange confession, half choked +by the struggle of her feelings toward an outlet, she heard a mild, calm +voice, somewhat mellowed by age. It spoke soothingly; it encouraged her; +it led her on by apposite questions that seemed to be suggested by a +great and tender interest, and acted like magnetism in attracting the +girl's confidence to this unseen friend. The priest's share in the +interview, indeed, resembled that of one who removes the stones, +clustered branches, or whatever entanglements impede the current of a +swollen stream. Hilda could have imagined--so much to the purpose were +his inquiries--that he was already acquainted with some outline of what +she strove to tell him. + +Thus assisted, she revealed the whole of her terrible secret! The whole, +except that no name escaped her lips. + +And, ah, what a relief! When the hysteric gasp, the strife between words +and sobs, had subsided, what a torture had passed away from her soul! It +was all gone; her bosom was as pure now as in her childhood. She was a +girl again; she was Hilda of the dove-cote; not that doubtful creature +whom her own doves had hardly recognized as their mistress and playmate, +by reason of the death-scent that clung to her garments! + +After she had ceased to speak, Hilda heard the priest bestir +himself with an old man's reluctant movement. He stepped out of the +confessional; and as the girl was still kneeling in the penitential +corner, he summoned her forth. + +"Stand up, my daughter," said the mild voice of the confessor; "what we +have further to say must be spoken face to face." + +Hilda did his bidding, and stood before him with a downcast visage, +which flushed and grew pale again. But it had the wonderful beauty which +we may often observe in those who have recently gone through a great +struggle, and won the peace that lies just on the other side. We see +it in a new mother's face; we see it in the faces of the dead; and +in Hilda's countenance--which had always a rare natural charm for her +friends--this glory of peace made her as lovely as an angel. + +On her part, Hilda beheld a venerable figure with hair as white as snow, +and a face strikingly characterized by benevolence. It bore marks of +thought, however, and penetrative insight; although the keen glances of +the eyes were now somewhat bedimmed with tears, which the aged shed, or +almost shed, on lighter stress of emotion than would elicit them from +younger men. + +"It has not escaped my observation, daughter," said the priest, "that +this is your first acquaintance with the confessional. How is this?" + +"Father," replied Hilda, raising her eyes, and again letting them fall, +"I am of New Eng land birth, and was bred as what you call a heretic." + +"From New England!" exclaimed the priest. "It was my own birthplace, +likewise; nor have fifty years of absence made me cease to love it. But +a heretic! And are you reconciled to the Church?" + +"Never, father," said Hilda. + +"And, that being the case," demanded the old man, "on what ground, my +daughter, have you sought to avail yourself of these blessed privileges, +confined exclusively to members of the one true Church, of confession +and absolution?" + +"Absolution, father?" exclaimed Hilda, shrinking back. "O no, no! I +never dreamed of that! Only our Heavenly Father can forgive my sins; and +it is only by sincere repentance of whatever wrong I may have done, and +by my own best efforts towards a higher life, that I can hope for his +forgiveness! God forbid that I should ask absolution from mortal man!" + +"Then wherefore," rejoined the priest, with somewhat less mildness in +his tone,--"wherefore, I ask again, have you taken possession, as I may +term it, of this holy ordinance; being a heretic, and neither seeking to +share, nor having faith in, the unspeakable advantages which the Church +offers to its penitents?" + +"Father," answered Hilda, trying to tell the old man the simple truth, +"I am a motherless girl, and a stranger here in Italy. I had only God +to take care of me, and be my closest friend; and the terrible, terrible +crime, which I have revealed to you, thrust itself between him and me; +so that I groped for him in the darkness, as it were, and found him +not,--found nothing but a dreadful solitude, and this crime in the midst +of it! I could not bear it. It seemed as if I made the awful guilt my +own, by keeping it hidden in my heart. I grew a fearful thing to myself. +I was going mad!" + +"It was a grievous trial, my poor child!" observed the confessor. "Your +relief, I trust, will prove to be greater than you yet know!" + +"I feel already how immense it is!" said Hilda, looking gratefully in +his face. "Surely, father, it was the hand of Providence that led me +hither, and made me feel that this vast temple of Christianity, this +great home of religion, must needs contain some cure, some ease, at +least, for my unutterable anguish. And it has proved so. I have told the +hideous secret; told it under the sacred seal of the confessional; and +now it will burn my poor heart no more!" + +"But, daughter," answered the venerable priest, not unmoved by what +Hilda said, "you forget! you mistake!--you claim a privilege to which +you have not entitled yourself! The seal of the confessional, do you +say? God forbid that it should ever be broken where it has been fairly +impressed; but it applies only to matters that have been confided to its +keeping in a certain prescribed method, and by persons, moreover, who +have faith in the sanctity of the ordinance. I hold myself, and any +learned casuist of the Church would hold me, as free to disclose all the +particulars of what you term your confession, as if they had come to my +knowledge in a secular way." + +"This is not right, father!" said Hilda, fixing her eyes on the old +man's. + +"Do not you see, child," he rejoined, with some little heat, "with all +your nicety of conscience, cannot you recognize it as my duty to make +the story known to the proper authorities; a great crime against public +justice being involved, and further evil consequences likely to ensue?" + +"No, father, no!" answered Hilda, courageously, her cheeks flushing and +her eyes brightening as she spoke. "Trust a girl's simple heart sooner +than any casuist of your Church, however learned he may be. Trust your +own heart, too! I came to your confessional, father, as I devoutly +believe, by the direct impulse of Heaven, which also brought you hither +to-day, in its mercy and love, to relieve me of a torture that I could +no longer bear. I trusted in the pledge which your Church has always +held sacred between the priest and the human soul, which, through his +medium, is struggling towards its Father above. What I have confided to +you lies sacredly between God and yourself. Let it rest there, father; +for this is right, and if you do otherwise, you will perpetrate a great +wrong, both as a priest and a man! And believe me, no question, no +torture, shall ever force my lips to utter what would be necessary, +in order to make my confession available towards the punishment of the +guilty ones. Leave Providence to deal with them!" + +"My quiet little countrywoman," said the priest, with half a smile on +his kindly old face, "you can pluck up a spirit, I perceive, when you +fancy an occasion for one." + +"I have spirit only to do what I think right," replied Hilda simply. "In +other respects I am timorous." + +"But you confuse yourself between right feelings and very foolish +inferences," continued the priest, "as is the wont of women,--so much +I have learnt by long experience in the confessional,--be they young or +old. However, to set your heart at rest, there is no probable need +for me to reveal the matter. What you have told, if I mistake not, and +perhaps more, is already known in the quarter which it most concerns." + +"Known!" exclaimed Hilda. "Known to the authorities of Rome! And what +will be the consequence?" + +"Hush!" answered the confessor, laying his finger on his lips. "I tell +you my supposition--mind, it is no assertion of the fact--in order +that you may go the more cheerfully on your way, not deeming yourself +burdened with any responsibility as concerns this dark deed. And now, +daughter, what have you to give in return for an old man's kindness and +sympathy?" + +"My grateful remembrance," said Hilda, fervently, "as long as I live!" + +"And nothing more?" the priest inquired, with a persuasive smile. "Will +you not reward him with a great joy; one of the last joys that he may +know on earth, and a fit one to take with him into the better world? In +a word, will you not allow me to bring you as a stray lamb into the true +fold? You have experienced some little taste of the relief and comfort +which the Church keeps abundantly in store for all its faithful +children. Come home, dear child,--poor wanderer, who hast caught a +glimpse of the heavenly light,--come home, and be at rest." + +"Father," said Hilda, much moved by his kindly earnestness, in +which, however, genuine as it was, there might still be a leaven of +professional craft, "I dare not come a step farther than Providence +shall guide me. Do not let it grieve you, therefore, if I never return +to the confessional; never dip my fingers in holy water; never sign my +bosom with the cross. I am a daughter of the Puritans. But, in spite of +my heresy," she added with a sweet, tearful smile, "you may one day +see the poor girl, to whom you have done this great Christian kindness, +coming to remind you of it, and thank you for it, in the Better Land." + +The old priest shook his head. But, as he stretched out his hands at the +same moment, in the act of benediction, Hilda knelt down and received +the blessing with as devout a simplicity as any Catholic of them all. + + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +HILDA AND A FRIEND + + +When Hilda knelt to receive the priest's benediction, the act was +witnessed by a person who stood leaning against the marble balustrade +that surrounds the hundred golden lights, before the high altar. He had +stood there, indeed, from the moment of the girl's entrance into the +confessional. His start of surprise, at first beholding her, and +the anxious gloom that afterwards settled on his face, sufficiently +betokened that he felt a deep and sad interest in what was going +forward. + +After Hilda had bidden the priest farewell, she came slowly towards the +high altar. The individual to whom we have alluded seemed irresolute +whether to advance or retire. His hesitation lasted so long that the +maiden, straying through a happy reverie, had crossed the wide extent +of the pavement between the confessional and the altar, before he had +decided whether to meet her. At last, when within a pace or two, she +raised her eyes and recognized Kenyon. + +"It is you!" she exclaimed, with joyful surprise. "I am so happy." + +In truth, the sculptor had never before seen, nor hardly imagined, such +a figure of peaceful beatitude as Hilda now presented. While coming +towards him in the solemn radiance which, at that period of the day, is +diffused through the transept, and showered down beneath the dome, she +seemed of the same substance as the atmosphere that enveloped her. He +could scarcely tell whether she was imbued with sunshine, or whether it +was a glow of happiness that shone out of her. + +At all events, it was a marvellous change from the sad girl, who had +entered the confessional bewildered with anguish, to this bright, yet +softened image of religious consolation that emerged from it. It was +as if one of the throng of angelic people, who might be hovering in the +sunny depths of the dome, had alighted on the pavement. Indeed, this +capability of transfiguration, which we often see wrought by inward +delight on persons far less capable of it than Hilda, suggests how +angels come by their beauty, it grows out of their happiness, and lasts +forever only because that is immortal. + +She held out her hand, and Kenyon was glad to take it in his own, if +only to assure himself that she was made of earthly material. + +"Yes, Hilda, I see that you are very happy," he replied gloomily, and +withdrawing his hand after a single pressure. "For me, I never was less +so than at this moment." + +"Has any misfortune befallen you?" asked Hilda with earnestness. "Pray +tell me, and you shall have my sympathy, though I must still be very +happy. Now I know how it is that the saints above are touched by the +sorrows of distressed people on earth, and yet are never made wretched +by them. Not that I profess to be a saint, you know," she added, smiling +radiantly. "But the heart grows so large, and so rich, and so variously +endowed, when it has a great sense of bliss, that it can give smiles to +some, and tears to others, with equal sincerity, and enjoy its own peace +throughout all." + +"Do not say you are no saint!" answered Kenyon with a smile, though he +felt that the tears stood in his eves. "You will still be Saint Hilda, +whatever church may canonize you." + +"Ah! you would not have said so, had you seen me but an hour ago!" +murmured she. "I was so wretched, that there seemed a grievous sin in +it." + +"And what has made you so suddenly happy?" inquired the sculptor. "But +first, Hilda, will you not tell me why you were so wretched?" + +"Had I met you yesterday, I might have told you that," she replied. +"To-day, there is no need." + +"Your happiness, then?" said the sculptor, as sadly as before. "Whence +comes it?" + +"A great burden has been lifted from my heart--from my conscience, I had +almost said,"--answered Hilda, without shunning the glance that he fixed +upon her. "I am a new creature, since this morning, Heaven be praised +for it! It was a blessed hour--a blessed impulse--that brought me +to this beautiful and glorious cathedral. I shall hold it in loving +remembrance while I live, as the spot where I found infinite peace after +infinite trouble." + +Her heart seemed so full, that it spilt its new gush of happiness, as +it were, like rich and sunny wine out of an over-brimming goblet. Kenyon +saw that she was in one of those moods of elevated feeling, when the +soul is upheld by a strange tranquility, which is really more passionate +and less controllable than emotions far exceeding it in violence. He +felt that there would be indelicacy, if he ought not rather to call it +impiety, in his stealing upon Hilda, while she was thus beyond her +own guardianship, and surprising her out of secrets which she might +afterwards bitterly regret betraying to him. Therefore, though yearning +to know what had happened, he resolved to forbear further question. + +Simple and earnest people, however, being accustomed to speak from their +genuine impulses, cannot easily, as craftier men do, avoid the subject +which they have at heart. As often as the sculptor unclosed his lips, +such words as these were ready to burst out:--"Hilda, have you flung +your angelic purity into that mass of unspeakable corruption, the Roman +Church?" + +"What were you saying?" she asked, as Kenyon forced back an almost +uttered exclamation of this kind. + +"I was thinking of what you have just remarked about the cathedral," +said he, looking up into the mighty hollow of the dome. "It is indeed +a magnificent structure, and an adequate expression of the Faith which +built it. When I behold it in a proper mood,--that is to say, when I +bring my mind into a fair relation with the minds and purposes of its +spiritual and material architects,--I see but one or two criticisms to +make. One is, that it needs painted windows." + +"O, no!" said Hilda. "They would be quite inconsistent with so much +richness of color in the interior of the church. Besides, it is a Gothic +ornament, and only suited to that style of architecture, which requires +a gorgeous dimness." + +"Nevertheless," continued the sculptor, "yonder square apertures, +filled with ordinary panes of glass, are quite out of keeping with the +superabundant splendor of everything about them. They remind me of that +portion of Aladdin's palace which he left unfinished, in order that +his royal father-in-law might put the finishing touch. Daylight, in its +natural state, ought not to be admitted here. It should stream through a +brilliant illusion of saints and hierarchies, and old scriptural images, +and symbolized dogmas, purple, blue, golden, and a broad flame of +scarlet. Then, it would be just such an illumination as the Catholic +faith allows to its believers. But, give me--to live and die in--the +pure, white light of heaven!" + +"Why do you look so sorrowfully at me?" asked Hilda, quietly meeting his +disturbed gaze. "What would you say to me? I love the white light too!" + +"I fancied so," answered Kenyon. "Forgive me, Hilda; but I must needs +speak. You seemed to me a rare mixture of impressibility, sympathy, +sensitiveness to many influences, with a certain quality of common +sense;--no, not that, but a higher and finer attribute, for which I find +no better word. However tremulously you might vibrate, this quality, +I supposed, would always bring you back to the equipoise. You were a +creature of imagination, and yet as truly a New England girl as any with +whom you grew up in your native village. If there were one person in +the world whose native rectitude of thought, and something deeper, more +reliable, than thought, I would have trusted against all the arts of a +priesthood,--whose taste alone, so exquisite and sincere that it rose +to be a moral virtue, I would have rested upon as a sufficient +safeguard,--it was yourself!" + +"I am conscious of no such high and delicate qualities as you allow me," +answered Hilda. "But what have I done that a girl of New England birth +and culture, with the right sense that her mother taught her, and the +conscience that she developed in her, should not do?" + +"Hilda, I saw you at the confessional!" said Kenyon. + +"Ah well, my dear friend," replied Hilda, casting down her eyes, and +looking somewhat confused, yet not ashamed, "you must try to forgive me +for that,--if you deem it wrong, because it has saved my reason, and +made me very happy. Had you been here yesterday, I would have confessed +to you." + +"Would to Heaven I had!" ejaculated Kenyon. + +"I think," Hilda resumed, "I shall never go to the confessional again; +for there can scarcely come such a sore trial twice in my life. If I had +been a wiser girl, a stronger, and a more sensible, very likely I might +not have gone to the confessional at all. It was the sin of others that +drove me thither; not my own, though it almost seemed so. Being what +I am, I must either have done what you saw me doing, or have gone mad. +Would that have been better?" + +"Then you are not a Catholic?" asked the sculptor earnestly. + +"Really, I do not quite know what I am," replied Hilda, encountering his +eyes with a frank and simple gaze. "I have a great deal of faith, and +Catholicism seems to have a great deal of good. Why should not I be a +Catholic, if I find there what I need, and what I cannot find elsewhere? +The more I see of this worship, the more I wonder at the exuberance with +which it adapts itself to all the demands of human infirmity. If its +ministers were but a little more than human, above all error, pure from +all iniquity, what a religion would it be!" + +"I need not fear your conversion to the Catholic faith," remarked +Kenyon, "if you are at all aware of the bitter sarcasm implied in your +last observation. It is very just. Only the exceeding ingenuity of the +system stamps it as the contrivance of man, or some worse author; not an +emanation of the broad and simple wisdom from on high." + +"It may be so," said Hilda; "but I meant no sarcasm." + +Thus conversing, the two friends went together down the grand extent +of the nave. Before leaving the church, they turned to admire again its +mighty breadth, the remoteness of the glory behind the altar, and the +effect of visionary splendor and magnificence imparted by the long bars +of smoky sunshine, which travelled so far before arriving at a place of +rest. + +"Thank Heaven for having brought me hither!" said Hilda fervently. + +Kenyon's mind was deeply disturbed by his idea of her Catholic +propensities; and now what he deemed her disproportionate and misapplied +veneration for the sublime edifice stung him into irreverence. + +"The best thing I know of St. Peter's," observed he, "is its equable +temperature. We are now enjoying the coolness of last winter, which, a +few months hence, will be the warmth of the present summer. It has no +cure, I suspect, in all its length and breadth, for a sick soul, but +it would make an admirable atmospheric hospital for sick bodies. What +a delightful shelter would it be for the invalids who throng to Rome, +where the sirocco steals away their strength, and the tramontana stabs +them through and through, like cold steel with a poisoned point! But +within these walls, the thermometer never varies. Winter and summer are +married at the high altar, and dwell together in perfect harmony." + +"Yes," said Hilda; "and I have always felt this soft, unchanging climate +of St. Peter's to be another manifestation of its sanctity." + +"That is not precisely my idea," replied Kenyon. "But what a delicious +life it would be, if a colony of people with delicate lungs or merely +with delicate fancies--could take up their abode in this ever-mild and +tranquil air. These architectural tombs of the popes might serve for +dwellings, and each brazen sepulchral doorway would become a domestic +threshold. Then the lover, if he dared, might say to his mistress, +'Will you share my tomb with me?' and, winning her soft consent, he +would lead her to the altar, and thence to yonder sepulchre of Pope +Gregory, which should be their nuptial home. What a life would be +theirs, Hilda, in their marble Eden!" + +"It is not kind, nor like yourself," said Hilda gently, "to throw +ridicule on emotions which are genuine. I revere this glorious church +for itself and its purposes; and love it, moreover, because here I have +found sweet peace, after' a great anguish." + +"Forgive me," answered the sculptor, "and I will do so no more. My heart +is not so irreverent as my words." + +They went through the piazza of St. Peter's and the adjacent streets, +silently at first; but, before reaching the bridge of St. Angelo, +Hilda's flow of spirits began to bubble forth, like the gush of a +streamlet that has been shut up by frost, or by a heavy stone over its +source. Kenyon had never found her so delightful as now; so softened +out of the chillness of her virgin pride; so full of fresh thoughts, +at which he was often moved to smile, although, on turning them over +a little more, he sometimes discovered that they looked fanciful only +because so absolutely true. + +But, indeed, she was not quite in a normal state. Emerging from gloom +into sudden cheerfulness, the effect upon Hilda was as if she were +just now created. After long torpor, receiving back her intellectual +activity, she derived an exquisite pleasure from the use of her +faculties, which were set in motion by causes that seemed inadequate. +She continually brought to Kenyon's mind the image of a child, making +its plaything of every object, but sporting in good faith, and with +a kind of seriousness. Looking up, for example, at the statue of St. +Michael, on the top of Hadrian's castellated tomb, Hilda fancied an +interview between the Archangel and the old emperor's ghost, who was +naturally displeased at finding his mausoleum, which he had ordained +for the stately and solemn repose of his ashes, converted to its present +purposes. + +"But St. Michael, no doubt," she thoughtfully remarked, "would finally +convince the Emperor Hadrian that where a warlike despot is sown as the +seed, a fortress and a prison are the only possible crop." + +They stopped on the bridge to look into the swift eddying flow of the +yellow Tiber, a mud puddle in strenuous motion; and Hilda wondered +whether the seven-branched golden candlestick,--the holy candlestick of +the Jews, which was lost at the Ponte Molle, in Constantine's time, had +yet been swept as far down the river as this. + +"It probably stuck where it fell," said the sculptor; "and, by this +time, is imbedded thirty feet deep in the mud of the Tiber. Nothing will +ever bring it to light again." + +"I fancy you are mistaken," replied Hilda, smiling. "There was a meaning +and purpose in each of its seven branches, and such a candlestick cannot +be lost forever. When it is found again, and seven lights are kindled +and burning in it, the whole world will gain the illumination which +it needs. Would not this be an admirable idea for a mystic story or +parable, or seven-branched allegory, full of poetry, art, philosophy, +and religion? It shall be called 'The Recovery of the Sacred +Candlestick.' As each branch is lighted, it shall have a differently +colored lustre from the other six; and when all the seven are kindled, +their radiance shall combine into the intense white light of truth." + +"Positively, Hilda, this is a magnificent conception," cried Kenyon. +"The more I look at it, the brighter it burns." + +"I think so too," said Hilda, enjoying a childlike pleasure in her own +idea. "The theme is better suited for verse than prose; and when I go +home to America, I will suggest it to one of our poets. Or seven poets +might write the poem together, each lighting a separate branch of the +Sacred Candlestick." + +"Then you think of going home?" Kenyon asked. + +"Only yesterday," she replied, "I longed to flee away. Now, all is +changed, and, being happy again, I should feel deep regret at leaving +the Pictorial Land. But I cannot tell. In Rome, there is something +dreary and awful, which we can never quite escape. At least, I thought +so yesterday." + +When they reached the Via Portoghese, and approached Hilda's tower, the +doves, who were waiting aloft, flung themselves upon the air, and came +floating down about her head. The girl caressed them, and responded to +their cooings with similar sounds from her own lips, and with words +of endearment; and their joyful flutterings and airy little flights, +evidently impelled by pure exuberance of spirits, seemed to show that +the doves had a real sympathy with their mistress's state of mind. For +peace had descended upon her like a dove. + +Bidding the sculptor farewell, Hilda climbed her tower, and came forth +upon its summit to trim the Virgin's lamp. The doves, well knowing her +custom, had flown up thither to meet her, and again hovered about her +head; and very lovely was her aspect, in the evening Sunlight, which had +little further to do with the world just then, save to fling a golden +glory on Hilda's hair, and vanish. + +Turning her eyes down into the dusky street which she had just quitted, +Hilda saw the sculptor still there, and waved her hand to him. + +"How sad and dim he looks, down there in that dreary street!" she said +to herself. "Something weighs upon his spirits. Would I could comfort +him!" + +"How like a spirit she looks, aloft there, with the evening glory round +her head, and those winged creatures claiming her as akin to them!" +thought Kenyon, on his part. "How far above me! how unattainable! Ah, +if I could lift myself to her region! Or--if it be not a sin to wish +it--would that I might draw her down to an earthly fireside!" + +What a sweet reverence is that, when a young man deems his mistress a +little more than mortal, and almost chides himself for longing to bring +her close to his heart! A trifling circumstance, but such as lovers +make much of, gave him hope. One of the doves, which had been resting on +Hilda's shoulder, suddenly flew downward, as if recognizing him as its +mistress's dear friend; and, perhaps commissioned with an errand of +regard, brushed his upturned face with its wings, and again soared +aloft. + +The sculptor watched the bird's return, and saw Hilda greet it with a +smile. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +SNOWDROPS AND MAIDENLY DELIGHTS + + +It being still considerably earlier than the period at which artists +and tourists are accustomed to assemble in Rome, the sculptor and Hilda +found themselves comparatively alone there. The dense mass of native +Roman life, in the midst of which they were, served to press them near +one another. It was as if they had been thrown together on a desert +island. Or they seemed to have wandered, by some strange chance, out +of the common world, and encountered each other in a depopulated city, +where there were streets of lonely palaces, and unreckonable treasures +of beautiful and admirable things, of which they two became the sole +inheritors. + +In such circumstances, Hilda's gentle reserve must have been stronger +than her kindly disposition permitted, if the friendship between Kenyon +and herself had not grown as warm as a maiden's friendship can ever be, +without absolutely and avowedly blooming into love. On the sculptor's +side, the amaranthine flower was already in full blow. But it is very +beautiful, though the lover's heart may grow chill at the perception, to +see how the snow will sometimes linger in a virgin's breast, even after +the spring is well advanced. In such alpine soils, the summer will not +be anticipated; we seek vainly for passionate flowers, and blossoms +of fervid hue and spicy fragrance, finding only snowdrops and sunless +violets, when it is almost the full season for the crimson rose. + +With so much tenderness as Hilda had in her nature, it was strange that +she so reluctantly admitted the idea of love; especially as, in +the sculptor, she found both congeniality and variety of taste, and +likenesses and differences of character; these being as essential as +those to any poignancy of mutual emotion. + +So Hilda, as far as Kenyon could discern, still did not love him, though +she admitted him within the quiet circle of her affections as a dear +friend and trusty counsellor. If we knew what is best for us, or could +be content with what is reasonably good, the sculptor might well have +been satisfied, for a season, with this calm intimacy, which so sweetly +kept him a stranger in her heart, and a ceremonious guest; and yet +allowed him the free enjoyment of all but its deeper recesses. The +flowers that grow outside of those minor sanctities have a wild, hasty +charm, which it is well to prove; there may be sweeter ones within the +sacred precinct, but none that will die while you are handling them, and +bequeath you a delicious legacy, as these do, in the perception of their +evanescence and unreality. + +And this may be the reason, after all, why Hilda, like so many other +maidens, lingered on the hither side of passion; her finer instinct and +keener sensibility made her enjoy those pale delights in a degree of +which men are incapable. She hesitated to grasp a richer happiness, as +possessing already such measure of it as her heart could hold, and of a +quality most agreeable to her virgin tastes. + +Certainly, they both were very happy. Kenyon's genius, unconsciously +wrought upon by Hilda's influence, took a more delicate character than +heretofore. He modelled, among other things, a beautiful little statue +of maidenhood gathering a snowdrop. It was never put into marble, +however, because the sculptor soon recognized it as one of those fragile +creations which are true only to the moment that produces them, and +are wronged if we try to imprison their airy excellence in a permanent +material. + +On her part, Hilda returned to her customary Occupations with a fresh +love for them, and yet with a deeper look into the heart of things; such +as those necessarily acquire who have passed from picture galleries into +dungeon gloom, and thence come back to the picture gallery again. It is +questionable whether she was ever so perfect a copyist thenceforth. She +could not yield herself up to the painter so unreservedly as in times +past; her character had developed a sturdier quality, which made her +less pliable to the influence of other minds. She saw into the picture +as profoundly as ever, and perhaps more so, but not with the devout +sympathy that had formerly given her entire possession of the old +master's idea. She had known such a reality, that it taught her to +distinguish inevitably the large portion that is unreal, in every work +of art. Instructed by sorrow, she felt that there is something beyond +almost all which pictorial genius has produced; and she never forgot +those sad wanderings from gallery to gallery, and from church to church, +where she had vainly sought a type of the Virgin Mother, or the Saviour, +or saint, or martyr, which a soul in extreme need might recognize as the +adequate one. + +How, indeed, should she have found such? How could holiness be revealed +to the artist of an age when the greatest of them put genius and +imagination in the place of spiritual insight, and when, from the pope +downward, all Christendom was corrupt? + +Meanwhile, months wore away, and Rome received back that large portion +of its life-blood which runs in the veins of its foreign and temporary +population. English visitors established themselves in the hotels, and +in all the sunny suites of apartments, in the streets convenient to +the Piazza di Spagna; the English tongue was heard familiarly along the +Corso, and English children sported in the Pincian Gardens. + +The native Romans, on the other hand, like the butterflies and +grasshoppers, resigned themselves to the short, sharp misery which +winter brings to a people whose arrangements are made almost exclusively +with a view to summer. Keeping no fire within-doors, except possibly a +spark or two in the kitchen, they crept out of their cheerless houses +into the narrow, sunless, sepulchral streets, bringing their firesides +along with them, in the shape of little earthen pots, vases, or pipkins, +full of lighted charcoal and warm ashes, over which they held their +tingling finger-ends. Even in this half-torpid wretchedness, they still +seemed to dread a pestilence in the sunshine, and kept on the shady side +of the piazzas, as scrupulously as in summer. Through the open doorways +w no need to shut them when the weather within was bleaker than +without--a glimpse into the interior of their dwellings showed the +uncarpeted brick floors, as dismal as the pavement of a tomb. + +They drew their old cloaks about them, nevertheless, and threw the +corners over their shoulders, with the dignity of attitude and action +that have come down to these modern citizens, as their sole inheritance +from the togated nation. Somehow or other, they managed to keep up their +poor, frost-bitten hearts against the pitiless atmosphere with a quiet +and uncomplaining endurance that really seems the most respectable point +in the present Roman character. For in New England, or in Russia, or +scarcely in a hut of the Esquimaux, there is no such discomfort to be +borne as by Romans in wintry weather, when the orange-trees bear icy +fruit in the gardens; and when the rims of all the fountains are shaggy +with icicles, and the Fountain of Trevi skimmed almost across with a +glassy surface; and when there is a slide in the piazza of St. Peter's, +and a fringe of brown, frozen foam along the eastern shore of the Tiber, +and sometimes a fall of great snowflakes into the dreary lanes and +alleys of the miserable city. Cold blasts, that bring death with them, +now blow upon the shivering invalids, who came hither in the hope of +breathing balmy airs. + +Wherever we pass our summers, may all our inclement months, from +November to April, henceforth be spent in some country that recognizes +winter as an integral portion of its year! + +Now, too, there was especial discomfort in the stately picture +galleries, where nobody, indeed,--not the princely or priestly founders, +nor any who have inherited their cheerless magnificence,--ever dreamed +of such an impossibility as fireside warmth, since those great palaces +were built. Hilda, therefore, finding her fingers so much benumbed that +the spiritual influence could not be transmitted to them, was persuaded +to leave her easel before a picture, on one of these wintry days, and +pay a visit to Kenyon's studio. But neither was the studio anything +better than a dismal den, with its marble shapes shivering around the +walls, cold as the snow images which the sculptor used to model in his +boyhood, and sadly behold them weep themselves away at the first thaw. + +Kenyon's Roman artisans, all this while, had been at work on the +Cleopatra. The fierce Egyptian queen had now struggled almost out of the +imprisoning stone; or, rather, the workmen had found her within the mass +of marble, imprisoned there by magic, but still fervid to the touch +with fiery life, the fossil woman of an age that produced statelier, +stronger, and more passionate creatures than our own. You already felt +her compressed heat, and were aware of a tiger-like character even in +her repose. If Octavius should make his appearance, though the marble +still held her within its embrace, it was evident that she would tear +herself forth in a twinkling, either to spring enraged at his +throat, or, sinking into his arms, to make one more proof of her rich +blandishments, or, falling lowly at his feet, to try the efficacy of a +woman's tears. + +"I am ashamed to tell you how much I admire this statue," said Hilda. +"No other sculptor could have done it." + +"This is very sweet for me to hear," replied Kenyon; "and since your +reserve keeps you from saying more, I shall imagine you expressing +everything that an artist would wish to hear said about his work." + +"You will not easily go beyond my genuine opinion," answered Hilda, with +a smile. + +"Ah, your kind word makes me very happy," said the sculptor, "and I +need it, just now, on behalf of my Cleopatra. That inevitable period has +come,--for I have found it inevitable, in regard to all my works,--when +I look at what I fancied to be a statue, lacking only breath to make it +live, and find it a mere lump of senseless stone, into which I have not +really succeeded in moulding the spiritual part of my idea. I should +like, now,--only it would be such shameful treatment for a discrowned +queen, and my own offspring too,--I should like to hit poor Cleopatra a +bitter blow on her Egyptian nose with this mallet." + +"That is a blow which all statues seem doomed to receive, sooner or +later, though seldom from the hand that sculptured them," said Hilda, +laughing. "But you must not let yourself be too much disheartened by +the decay of your faith in what you produce. I have heard a poet express +similar distaste for his own most exquisite poem, and I am afraid that +this final despair, and sense of short-coming, must always be the reward +and punishment of those who try to grapple with a great or beautiful +idea. It only proves that you have been able to imagine things too high +for mortal faculties to execute. The idea leaves you an imperfect image +of itself, which you at first mistake for the ethereal reality, but soon +find that the latter has escaped out of your closest embrace." + +"And the only consolation is," remarked Kenyon, "that the blurred and +imperfect image may still make a very respectable appearance in the eyes +of those who have not seen the original." + +"More than that," rejoined Hilda; "for there is a class of spectators +whose sympathy will help them to see the perfect through a mist of +imperfection. Nobody, I think, ought to read poetry, or look at pictures +or statues, who cannot find a great deal more in them than the poet or +artist has actually expressed. Their highest merit is suggestiveness." + +"You, Hilda, are yourself the only critic in whom I have much faith," +said Kenyon. "Had you condemned Cleopatra, nothing should have saved +her." + +"You invest me with such an awful responsibility," she replied, "that I +shall not dare to say a single word about your other works." + +"At least," said the sculptor, "tell me whether you recognize this +bust?" + +He pointed to a bust of Donatello. It was not the one which Kenyon had +begun to model at Monte Beni, but a reminiscence of the Count's face, +wrought under the influence of all the sculptor's knowledge of his +history, and of his personal and hereditary character. It stood on a +wooden pedestal, not nearly finished, but with fine white dust and small +chips of marble scattered about it, and itself incrusted all round with +the white, shapeless substance of the block. In the midst appeared +the features, lacking sharpness, and very much resembling a fossil +countenance,--but we have already used this simile, in reference to +Cleopatra, with the accumulations of long-past ages clinging to it. + +And yet, strange to say, the face had an expression, and a more +recognizable one than Kenyon had succeeded in putting into the +clay model at Monte Beni. The reader is probably acquainted with +Thorwaldsen's three-fold analogy,--the clay model, the Life; the plaster +cast, the Death; and the sculptured marble, the Resurrection,--and +it seemed to be made good by the spirit that was kindling up these +imperfect features, like a lambent flame. + +"I was not quite sure, at first glance, that I knew the face," observed +Hilda; "the likeness surely is not a striking one. There is a good +deal of external resemblance, still, to the features of the Faun of +Praxiteles, between whom and Donatello, you know, we once insisted that +there was a perfect twin-brotherhood. But the expression is now so very +different!" + +"What do you take it to be?" asked the sculptor. + +"I hardly know how to define it," she answered. "But it has an effect +as if I could see this countenance gradually brightening while I look +at it. It gives the impression of a growing intellectual power and +moral sense. Donatello's face used to evince little more than a genial, +pleasurable sort of vivacity, and capability of enjoyment. But here, a +soul is being breathed into him; it is the Faun, but advancing towards a +state of higher development." + +"Hilda, do you see all this?" exclaimed Kenyon, in considerable +surprise. "I may have had such an idea in my mind, but was quite unaware +that I had succeeded in conveying it into the marble." + +"Forgive me," said Hilda, "but I question whether this striking effect +has been brought about by any skill or purpose on the sculptor's part. +Is it not, perhaps, the chance result of the bust being just so far +shaped out, in the marble, as the process of moral growth had advanced +in the original? A few more strokes of the chisel might change the whole +expression, and so spoil it for what it is now worth." + +"I believe you are right," answered Kenyon, thoughtfully examining his +work; "and, strangely enough, it was the very expression that I tried +unsuccessfully to produce in the clay model. Well; not another chip +shall be struck from the marble." + +And, accordingly, Donatello's bust (like that rude, rough mass of the +head of Brutus, by Michael Angelo, at Florence) has ever since remained +in an unfinished state. Most spectators mistake it for an unsuccessful +attempt towards copying the features of the Faun of Praxiteles. One +observer in a thousand is conscious of something more, and lingers long +over this mysterious face, departing from it reluctantly, and with many +a glance thrown backward. What perplexes him is the riddle that he sees +propounded there; the riddle of the soul's growth, taking its first +impulse amid remorse and pain, and struggling through the incrustations +of the senses. It was the contemplation of this imperfect portrait of +Donatello that originally interested us in his history, and impelled us +to elicit from Kenyon what he knew of his friend's adventures. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +REMINISCENCES OF MIRIAM + + +When Hilda and himself turned away from the unfinished bust, the +sculptor's mind still dwelt upon the reminiscences which it suggested. +"You have not seen Donatello recently," he remarked, "and therefore +cannot be aware how sadly he is changed." + +"No wonder!" exclaimed Hilda, growing pale. + +The terrible scene which she had witnessed, when Donatello's face +gleamed out in so fierce a light, came back upon her memory, almost +for the first time since she knelt at the confessional. Hilda, as is +sometimes the case with persons whose delicate organization requires +a peculiar safeguard, had an elastic faculty of throwing off such +recollections as would be too painful for endurance. The first shock +of Donatello's and Miriam's crime had, indeed, broken through the frail +defence of this voluntary forgetfulness; but, once enabled to relieve +herself of the ponderous anguish over which she had so long brooded, she +had practised a subtile watchfulness in preventing its return. + +"No wonder, do you say?" repeated the sculptor, looking at her with +interest, but not exactly with surprise; for he had long suspected that +Hilda had a painful knowledge of events which he himself little more +than surmised. "Then you know!--you have heard! But what can you +possibly have heard, and through what channel?" + +"Nothing!" replied Hilda faintly. "Not one word has reached my ears from +the lips of any human being. Let us never speak of it again! No, no! +never again!" + +"And Miriam!" said Kenyon, with irrepressible interest. "Is it also +forbidden to speak of her?" + +"Hush! do not even utter her name! Try not to think of it!" Hilda +whispered. "It may bring terrible consequences!" + +"My dear Hilda!" exclaimed Kenyon, regarding her with wonder and deep +sympathy. "My sweet friend, have you had this secret hidden in your +delicate, maidenly heart, through all these many months! No wonder that +your life was withering out of you." + +"It was so, indeed!" said Hilda, shuddering. "Even now, I sicken at the +recollection." + +"And how could it have come to your knowledge?" continued the sculptor. +"But no matter! Do not torture yourself with referring to the subject. +Only, if at any time it should be a relief to you, remember that we can +speak freely together, for Miriam has herself suggested a confidence +between us." + +"Miriam has suggested this!" exclaimed Hilda. "Yes, I remember, now, her +advising that the secret should be shared with you. But I have +survived the death struggle that it cost me, and need make no further +revelations. And Miriam has spoken to you! What manner of woman can +she be, who, after sharing in such a deed, can make it a topic of +conversation with her friends?" + +"Ah, Hilda," replied Kenyon, "you do not know, for you could never +learn it from your own heart, which is all purity and rectitude, what +a mixture of good there may be in things evil; and how the greatest +criminal, if you look at his conduct from his own point of view, or from +any side point, may seem not so unquestionably guilty, after all. So +with Miriam; so with Donatello. They are, perhaps, partners in what we +must call awful guilt; and yet, I will own to you,--when I think of the +original cause, the motives, the feelings, the sudden concurrence of +circumstances thrusting them onward, the urgency of the moment, and +the sublime unselfishness on either part,--I know not well how to +distinguish it from much that the world calls heroism. Might we not +render some such verdict as this?--'Worthy of Death, but not unworthy of +Love! '" + +"Never!" answered Hilda, looking at the matter through the clear crystal +medium of her own integrity. "This thing, as regards its causes, is all +a mystery to me, and must remain so. But there is, I believe, only one +right and one wrong; and I do not understand, and may God keep me from +ever understanding, how two things so totally unlike can be mistaken for +one another; nor how two mortal foes, as Right and Wrong surely are, can +work together in the same deed. This is my faith; and I should be led +astray, if you could persuade me to give it up." + +"Alas for poor human nature, then!" said Kenyon sadly, and yet half +smiling at Hilda's unworldly and impracticable theory. "I always felt +you, my dear friend, a terribly severe judge, and have been perplexed to +conceive how such tender sympathy could coexist with the remorselessness +of a steel blade. You need no mercy, and therefore know not how to show +any." + +"That sounds like a bitter gibe," said Hilda, with the tears springing +into her eyes. "But I cannot help it. It does not alter my perception of +the truth. If there be any such dreadful mixture of good and evil as +you affirm,--and which appears to me almost more shocking than +pure evil,--then the good is turned to poison, not the evil to +wholesomeness." + +The sculptor seemed disposed to say something more, but yielded to the +gentle steadfastness with which Hilda declined to listen. She grew very +sad; for a reference to this one dismal topic had set, as it were, a +prison door ajar, and allowed a throng of torturing recollections to +escape from their dungeons into the pure air and white radiance of +her soul. She bade Kenyon a briefer farewell than ordinary, and went +homeward to her tower. + +In spite of her efforts to withdraw them to other subjects, her thoughts +dwelt upon Miriam; and, as had not heretofore happened, they brought +with them a painful doubt whether a wrong had not been committed on +Hilda's part, towards the friend once so beloved. Something that Miriam +had said, in their final conversation, recurred to her memory, and +seemed now to deserve more weight than Hilda had assigned to it, in her +horror at the crime just perpetrated. It was not that the deed looked +less wicked and terrible in the retrospect; but she asked herself +whether there were not other questions to be considered, aside from that +single one of Miriam's guilt or innocence; as, for example, whether a +close bond of friendship, in which we once voluntarily engage, ought to +be severed on account of any unworthiness, which we subsequently detect +in our friend. For, in these unions of hearts,--call them marriage, +or whatever else,--we take each other for better for worse. Availing +ourselves of our friend's intimate affection, we pledge our own, as +to be relied upon in every emergency. And what sadder, more desperate +emergency could there be, than had befallen Miriam? Who more need the +tender succor of the innocent, than wretches stained with guilt! And +must a selfish care for the spotlessness of our own garments keep us +from pressing the guilty ones close to our hearts, wherein, for the very +reason that we are innocent, lies their securest refuge from further +ill? + +It was a sad thing for Hilda to find this moral enigma propounded to her +conscience; and to feel that, whichever way she might settle it, there +would be a cry of wrong on the other side. Still, the idea stubbornly +came back, that the tie between Miriam and herself had been real, the +affection true, and that therefore the implied compact was not to be +shaken off. + +"Miriam loved me well," thought Hilda remorsefully, "and I failed her at +her sorest need." + +Miriam loved her well; and not less ardent had been the affection which +Miriam's warm, tender, and generous characteristics had excited in +Hilda's more reserved and quiet nature. It had never been extinguished; +for, in part, the wretchedness which Hilda had since endured was but +the struggle and writhing of her sensibility, still yearning towards +her friend. And now, at the earliest encouragement, it awoke again, and +cried out piteously, complaining of the violence that had been done it. + +Recurring to the delinquencies of which she fancied (we say "fancied," +because we do not unhesitatingly adopt Hilda's present view, but rather +suppose her misled by her feelings)--of which she fancied herself guilty +towards her friend, she suddenly remembered a sealed packet that +Miriam had confided to her. It had been put into her hands with earnest +injunctions of secrecy and care, and if unclaimed after a certain +period, was to be delivered according to its address. Hilda had +forgotten it; or, rather, she had kept the thought of this commission in +the background of her consciousness, with all other thoughts referring +to Miriam. + +But now the recollection of this packet, and the evident stress which +Miriam laid upon its delivery at the specified time, impelled Hilda to +hurry up the staircase of her tower, dreading lest the period should +already have elapsed. + +No; the hour had not gone by, but was on the very point of passing. +Hilda read the brief note of instruction, on a corner of the envelope, +and discovered, that, in case of Miriam's absence from Rome, the packet +was to be taken to its destination that very day. + +"How nearly I had violated my promise!" said Hilda. "And, since we are +separated forever, it has the sacredness of an injunction from a dead +friend. There is no time to be lost." + +So Hilda set forth in the decline of the afternoon, and pursued her way +towards the quarter of the city in which stands the Palazzo Cenci. Her +habit of self-reliance was so simply strong, so natural, and now so well +established by long use, that the idea of peril seldom or never occurred +to Hilda, in her lonely life. + +She differed, in this particular, from the generality of her sex, +--although the customs and character of her native land often produce +women who meet the world with gentle fearlessness, and discover that its +terrors have been absurdly exaggerated by the tradition of mankind. In +ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the apprehensiveness of women is +quite gratuitous. Even as matters now stand, they are really safer in +perilous situations and emergencies than men; and might be still more +so, if they trusted themselves more confidingly to the chivalry of +manhood. In all her wanderings about Rome, Hilda had gone and returned +as securely as she had been accustomed to tread the familiar street of +her New England village, where every face wore a look of recognition. +With respect to whatever was evil, foul, and ugly, in this populous and +corrupt city, she trod as if invisible, and not only so, but blind. She +was altogether unconscious of anything wicked that went along the same +pathway, but without jostling or impeding her, any more than gross +substance hinders the wanderings of a spirit. Thus it is, that, bad as +the world is said to have grown, innocence continues to make a paradise +around itself, and keep it still unfallen. + +Hilda's present expedition led her into what was--physically, at +least--the foulest and ugliest part of Rome. In that vicinity lies the +Ghetto, where thousands of Jews are crowded within a narrow compass, +and lead a close, unclean, and multitudinous life, resembling that of +maggots when they over-populate a decaying cheese. + +Hilda passed on the borders of this region, but had no occasion to +step within it. Its neighborhood, however, naturally partook of +characteristics 'like its own. There was a confusion of black and +hideous houses, piled massively out of the ruins of former ages; rude +and destitute of plan, as a pauper would build his hovel, and yet +displaying here and there an arched gateway, a cornice, a pillar, or +a broken arcade, that might have adorned a palace. Many of the houses, +indeed, as they stood, might once have been palaces, and possessed still +a squalid kind of grandeur. Dirt was everywhere, strewing the narrow +streets, and incrusting the tall shabbiness of the edifices, from the +foundations to the roofs; it lay upon the thresholds, and looked out of +the windows, and assumed the guise of human life in the children that +Seemed to be engendered out of it. Their father was the sun, and their +mother--a heap of Roman mud. + +It is a question of speculative interest, whether the ancient Romans +were as unclean a people as we everywhere find those who have succeeded +them. There appears to be a kind of malignant spell in the spots that +have been inhabited by these masters of the world, or made famous in +their history; an inherited and inalienable curse, impelling their +successors to fling dirt and defilement upon whatever temple, column, +mined palace, or triumphal arch may be nearest at hand, and on every +monument that the old Romans built. It is most probably a classic trait, +regularly transmitted downward, and perhaps a little modified by the +better civilization of Christianity; so that Caesar may have trod +narrower and filthier ways in his path to the Capitol, than even those +of modern Rome. + +As the paternal abode of Beatrice, the gloomy old palace of the Cencis +had an interest for Hilda, although not sufficiently strong, hitherto, +to overcome the disheartening effect of the exterior, and draw her over +its threshold. The adjacent piazza, of poor aspect, contained only an +old woman selling roasted chestnuts and baked squash-seeds; she looked +sharply at Hilda, and inquired whether she had lost her way. + + +"No," said Hilda; "I seek the Palazzo Cenci." + +"Yonder it is, fair signorina," replied the Roman matron. "If you wish +that packet delivered, which I see in your hand, my grandson Pietro +shall run with it for a baiocco. The Cenci palace is a spot of ill omen +for young maidens." + +Hilda thanked the old dame, but alleged the necessity of doing her +errand in person. She approached the front of the palace, which, with +all its immensity, had but a mean appearance, and seemed an abode which +the lovely shade of Beatrice would not be apt to haunt, unless her doom +made it inevitable. Some soldiers stood about the portal, and gazed at +the brown-haired, fair-cheeked Anglo-Saxon girl, with approving glances, +but not indecorously. Hilda began to ascend the staircase, three lofty +flights of which were to be surmounted, before reaching the door whither +she was bound. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + + +THE EXTINCTION OF A LAMP + +Between Hilda and the sculptor there had been a kind of half-expressed +understanding, that both were to visit the galleries of the Vatican +the day subsequent to their meeting at the studio. Kenyon, accordingly, +failed not to be there, and wandered through the vast ranges of +apartments, but saw nothing of his expected friend. The marble faces, +which stand innumerable along the walls, and have kept themselves so +calm through the vicissitudes of twenty centuries, had no sympathy +for his disappointment; and he, on the other hand, strode past these +treasures and marvels of antique art, with the indifference which any +preoccupation of the feelings is apt to produce, in reference to objects +of sculpture. Being of so cold and pure a substance, and mostly deriving +their vitality more from thought than passion, they require to be seen +through a perfectly transparent medium. + +And, moreover, Kenyon had counted so much upon Hilda's delicate +perceptions in enabling him to look at two or three of the statues, +about which they had talked together, that the entire purpose of his +visit was defeated by her absence. It is a delicious sort of mutual aid, +when the united power of two sympathetic, yet dissimilar, intelligences +is brought to bear upon a poem by reading it aloud, or upon a picture +or statue by viewing it in each other's company. Even if not a word +of criticism be uttered, the insight of either party is wonderfully +deepened, and the comprehension broadened; so that the inner mystery +of a work of genius, hidden from one, will often reveal itself to two. +Missing such help, Kenyon saw nothing at the Vatican which he had not +seen a thousand times before, and more perfectly than now. + +In the chili of his disappointment, he suspected that it was a very +cold art to which he had devoted himself. He questioned, at that moment, +whether sculpture really ever softens and warms the material which it +handles; whether carved marble is anything but limestone, after all; +and whether the Apollo Belvedere itself possesses any merit above +its physical beauty, or is beyond criticism even in that generally +acknowledged excellence. In flitting glances, heretofore, he had seemed +to behold this statue, as something ethereal and godlike, but not now. + +Nothing pleased him, unless it were the group of the Laocoon, which, +in its immortal agony, impressed Kenyon as a type of the long, fierce +struggle of man, involved in the knotted entanglements of Error and +Evil, those two snakes, which, if no divine help intervene, will be sure +to strangle him and his children in the end. What he most admired was +the strange calmness diffused through this bitter strife; so that it +resembled the rage of the sea made calm by its immensity,' or the tumult +of Niagara which ceases to be tumult because it lasts forever. Thus, in +the Laocoon, the horror of a moment grew to be the fate of interminable +ages. Kenyon looked upon the group as the one triumph of sculpture, +creating the repose, which is essential to it, in the very acme of +turbulent effort; but, in truth, it was his mood of unwonted despondency +that made him so sensitive to the terrible magnificence, as well as to +the sad moral, of this work. Hilda herself could not have helped him to +see it with nearly such intelligence. + +A good deal more depressed than the nature of the disappointment +warranted, Kenyon went to his studio, and took in hand a great lump of +clay. He soon found, however, that his plastic cunning had departed from +him for the time. So he wandered forth again into the uneasy streets +of Rome, and walked up and down the Corso, where, at that period of the +day, a throng of passers-by and loiterers choked up the narrow sidewalk. +A penitent was thus brought in contact with the sculptor. + +It was a figure in a white robe, with a kind of featureless mask +over the face, through the apertures of which the eyes threw an +unintelligible light. Such odd, questionable shapes are often seen +gliding through the streets of Italian cities, and are understood to be +usually persons of rank, who quit their palaces, their gayeties, their +pomp and pride, and assume the penitential garb for a season, with a +view of thus expiating some crime, or atoning for the aggregate of petty +sins that make up a worldly life. It is their custom to ask alms, and +perhaps to measure the duration of their penance by the time requisite +to accumulate a sum of money out of the little droppings of individual +charity. The avails are devoted to some beneficent or religious purpose; +so that the benefit accruing to their own souls is, in a manner, linked +with a good done, or intended, to their fellow-men. These figures have +a ghastly and startling effect, not so much from any very impressive +peculiarity in the garb, as from the mystery which they bear about with +them, and the sense that there is an acknowledged sinfulness as the +nucleus of it. + +In the present instance, however, the penitent asked no alms of Kenyon; +although, for the space of a minute or two, they stood face to face, the +hollow eyes of the mask encountering the sculptor's gaze. But, just as +the crowd was about to separate them, the former spoke, in a voice not +unfamiliar to Kenyon, though rendered remote and strange by the guilty +veil through which it penetrated. + +"Is all well with you, Signore?" inquired the penitent, out of the cloud +in which he walked. + +"All is well," answered Kenyon. "And with you?" + +But the masked penitent returned no answer, being borne away by the +pressure of the throng. + +The sculptor stood watching the figure, and was almost of a mind to +hurry after him and follow up the conversation that had been begun; but +it occurred to him that there is a sanctity (or, as we might rather term +it, an inviolable etiquette) which prohibits the recognition of persons +who choose to walk under the veil of penitence. + +"How strange!" thought Kenyon to himself. "It was surely Donatello! What +can bring him to Rome, where his recollections must be so painful, and +his presence not without peril? And Miriam! Can she have accompanied +him?" + +He walked on, thinking of the vast change in Donatello, since those days +of gayety and innocence, when the young Italian was new in Rome, and was +just beginning to be sensible of a more poignant felicity than he had +yet experienced, in the sunny warmth of Miriam's smile. The growth of +a soul, which the sculptor half imagined that he had witnessed in his +friend, seemed hardly worth the heavy price that it had cost, in the +sacrifice of those simple enjoyments that were gone forever. A creature +of antique healthfulness had vanished from the earth; and, in his stead, +there was only one other morbid and remorseful man, among millions that +were cast in the same indistinguishable mould. + +The accident of thus meeting Donatello the glad Faun of his imagination +and memory, now transformed into a gloomy penitent--contributed to +deepen the cloud that had fallen over Kenyon's spirits. It caused him +to fancy, as we generally do, in the petty troubles which extend not a +hand's-breadth beyond our own sphere, that the whole world was saddening +around him. It took the sinister aspect of an omen, although he could +not distinctly see what trouble it might forebode. + +If it had not been for a peculiar sort of pique, with which lovers are +much conversant, a preposterous kind of resentment which endeavors to +wreak itself on the beloved object, and on one's own heart, in requital +of mishaps for which neither are in fault, Kenyon might at once have +betaken himself to Hilda's studio, and asked why the appointment was not +kept. But the interview of to-day was to have been so rich in present +joy, and its results so important to his future life, that the bleak +failure was too much for his equanimity. He was angry with poor Hilda, +and censured her without a hearing; angry with himself, too, and +therefore inflicted on this latter criminal the severest penalty in +his power; angry with the day that was passing over him, and would not +permit its latter hours to redeem the disappointment of the morning. + +To confess the truth, it had been the sculptor's purpose to stake all +his hopes on that interview in the galleries of the Vatican. Straying +with Hilda through those long vistas of ideal beauty, he meant, at last, +to utter himself upon that theme which lovers are fain to discuss in +village lanes, in wood paths, on seaside sands, in crowded streets; it +little matters where, indeed, since roses are sure to blush along the +way, and daisies and violets to spring beneath the feet, if the spoken +word be graciously received. He was resolved to make proof whether +the kindness that Hilda evinced for him was the precious token of an +individual preference, or merely the sweet fragrance of her disposition, +which other friends might share as largely as himself. He would try if +it were possible to take this shy, yet frank, and innocently fearless +creature captive, and imprison her in his heart, and make her sensible +of a wider freedom there, than in all the world besides. + +It was hard, we must allow, to see the shadow of a wintry sunset falling +upon a day that was to have been so bright, and to find himself just +where yesterday had left him, only with a sense of being drearily +balked, and defeated without an opportunity for struggle. So much had +been anticipated from these now vanished hours, that it seemed as if no +other day could bring back the same golden hopes. + +In a case like this, it is doubtful whether Kenyon could have done a +much better thing than he actually did, by going to dine at the Cafe +Nuovo, and drinking a flask of Montefiascone; longing, the while, for a +beaker or two of Donatello's Sunshine. It would have been just the wine +to cure a lover's melancholy, by illuminating his heart with tender +light and warmth, and suggestions of undefined hopes, too ethereal for +his morbid humor to examine and reject them. + +No decided improvement resulting from the draught of Montefiascone, he +went to the Teatro Argentino, and sat gloomily to see an Italian +comedy, which ought to have cheered him somewhat, being full of glancing +merriment, and effective over everybody's disabilities except his own. +The sculptor came out, however, before the close of the performance, as +disconsolate as he went in. + +As he made his way through the complication of narrow streets, which +perplex that portion of the city, a carriage passed him. It was driven +rapidly, but not too fast for the light of a gas-lamp to flare upon a +face within--especially as it was bent forward, appearing to recognize +him, while a beckoning hand was protruded from the window. On his part, +Kenyon at once knew the face, and hastened to the carriage, which had +now stopped. + +"Miriam! you in Rome?" he exclaimed "And your friends know nothing of +it?" + +"Is all well with you?" she asked. + +This inquiry, in the identical words which Donatello had so recently +addressed to him from beneath the penitent's mask, startled the +sculptor. Either the previous disquietude of his mind, or some tone in +Miriam's voice, or the unaccountableness of beholding her there at all, +made it seem ominous. + +"All is well, I believe," answered he doubtfully. "I am aware of no +misfortune. Have you any to announce'?" + +He looked still more earnestly at Miriam, and felt a dreamy uncertainty +whether it was really herself to whom he spoke. True; there were those +beautiful features, the contour of which he had studied too often, and +with a sculptor's accuracy of perception, to be in any doubt that it was +Miriam's identical face. But he was conscious of a change, the nature of +which he could not satisfactorily define; it might be merely her dress, +which, imperfect as the light was, he saw to be richer than the simple +garb that she had usually worn. The effect, he fancied, was partly owing +to a gem which she had on her bosom; not a diamond, but something that +glimmered with a clear, red lustre, like the stars in a southern sky. +Somehow or other, this colored light seemed an emanation of herself, +as if all that was passionate and glowing in her native disposition +had crystallized upon her breast, and were just now scintillating more +brilliantly than ever, in sympathy with some emotion of her heart. + +Of course there could be no real doubt that it was Miriam, his artist +friend, with whom and Hilda he had spent so many pleasant and familiar +hours, and whom he had last seen at Perugia, bending with Donatello +beneath the bronze pope's benediction. It must be that selfsame Miriam; +but the sensitive sculptor felt a difference of manner, which impressed +him more than he conceived it possible to be affected by so external a +thing. He remembered the gossip so prevalent in Rome on Miriam's first +appearance; how that she was no real artist, but the daughter of an +illustrious or golden lineage, who was merely playing at necessity; +mingling with human struggle for her pastime; stepping out of her native +sphere only for an interlude, just as a princess might alight from her +gilded equipage to go on foot through a rustic lane. And now, after a +mask in which love and death had performed their several parts, she had +resumed her proper character. + +"Have you anything to tell me?" cried he impatiently; for nothing causes +a more disagreeable vibration of the nerves than this perception of +ambiguousness in familiar persons or affairs. "Speak; for my spirits and +patience have been much tried to-day." + +Miriam put her finger on her lips, and seemed desirous that Kenyon +should know of the presence of a third person. He now saw, indeed, that, +there was some one beside her in the carriage, hitherto concealed by +her attitude; a man, it appeared, with a sallow Italian face, which the +sculptor distinguished but imperfectly, and did not recognize. + +"I can tell you nothing," she replied; and leaning towards him, she +whispered,--appearing then more like the Miriam whom he knew than in +what had before passed,--"Only, when the lamp goes out do not despair." + +The carriage drove on, leaving Kenyon to muse over this unsatisfactory +interview, which seemed to have served no better purpose than to fill +his mind with more ominous forebodings than before. Why were Donatello +and Miriam in Rome, where both, in all likelihood, might have much to +dread? And why had one and the other addressed him with a question that +seemed prompted by a knowledge of some calamity, either already fallen +on his unconscious head, or impending closely over him? + +"I am sluggish," muttered Kenyon, to himself; "a weak, nerveless fool, +devoid of energy and promptitude; or neither Donatello nor Miriam could +have escaped me thus! They are aware of some misfortune that concerns me +deeply. How soon am I to know it too?" + +There seemed but a single calamity possible to happen within so narrow +a sphere as that with which the sculptor was connected; and even to that +one mode of evil he could assign no definite shape, but only felt that +it must have some reference to Hilda. + +Flinging aside the morbid hesitation, and the dallyings with his own +wishes, which he had permitted to influence his mind throughout the day, +he now hastened to the Via Portoghese. Soon the old palace stood before +him, with its massive tower rising into the clouded night; obscured from +view at its midmost elevation, but revealed again, higher upward, by +the Virgin's lamp that twinkled on the summit. Feeble as it was, in +the broad, surrounding gloom, that little ray made no inconsiderable +illumination among Kenyon's sombre thoughts; for; remembering Miriam's +last words, a fantasy had seized him that he should find the sacred lamp +extinguished. + +And even while he stood gazing, as a mariner at the star in which he put +his trust, the light quivered, sank, gleamed up again, and finally went +out, leaving the battlements of Hilda's tower in utter darkness. For the +first time in centuries, the consecrated and legendary flame before the +loftiest shrine in Rome had ceased to burn. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + + +THE DESERTED SHRINE + + +Kenyon knew the sanctity which Hilda (faithful Protestant, and daughter +of the Puritans, as the girl was) imputed to this shrine. He was aware +of the profound feeling of responsibility, as well earthly as religious, +with which her conscience had been impressed, when she became the +occupant of her aerial chamber, and undertook the task of keeping the +consecrated lamp alight. There was an accuracy and a certainty about +Hilda's movements, as regarded all matters that lay deep enough to have +their roots in right or wrong, which made it as possible and safe to +rely upon the timely and careful trimming of this lamp (if she were in +life, and able to creep up the steps), as upon the rising of to-morrow's +sun, with lustre-undiminished from to-day. + +The sculptor could scarcely believe his eyes, therefore, when he saw the +flame flicker and expire. His sight had surely deceived him. And now, +since the light did not reappear, there must be some smoke wreath +or impenetrable mist brooding about the tower's gray old head, and +obscuring it from the lower world. But no! For right over the dim +battlements, as the wind chased away a mass of clouds, he beheld a star, +and moreover, by an earnest concentration of his sight, was soon able to +discern even the darkened shrine itself. There was no obscurity around +the tower; no infirmity of his own vision. The flame had exhausted its +supply of oil, and become extinct. But where was Hilda? + +A man in a cloak happened to be passing; and Kenyon--anxious to distrust +the testimony of his senses, if he could get more acceptable evidence on +the other side--appealed to him. + +"Do me the favor, Signore," said he, "to look at the top of yonder +tower, and tell me whether you see the lamp burning at the Virgin's +shrine." + +"The lamp, Signore?" answered the man, without at first troubling +himself to look up. "The lamp that has burned these four hundred years! +How is it possible, Signore, that it should not be burning now?" "But +look!" said the sculptor impatiently. With good-natured indulgence for +what he seemed to consider as the whim of an eccentric Forestiero, the +Italian carelessly threw his eyes upwards; but, as soon as he perceived +that there was really no light, he lifted his hands with a vivid +expression of wonder and alarm. + +"The lamp is extinguished!" cried he. "The lamp that has been +burning these four hundred years! This surely must portend some great +misfortune; and, by my advice, Signore, you will hasten hence, lest the +tower tumble on our heads. A priest once told me that, if the Virgin +withdrew her blessing and the light went out, the old Palazzo del Torte +would sink into the earth, with all that dwell in it. There will be a +terrible crash before morning!" + +The stranger made the best of his way from the doomed premises; while +Kenyon--who would willingly have seen the tower crumble down before his +eyes, on condition of Hilda's safety--determined, late as it was, to +attempt ascertaining if she were in her dove-cote. + +Passing through the arched entrance,--which, as is often the case with +Roman entrances, was as accessible at midnight as at noon,--he groped +his way to the broad staircase, and, lighting his wax taper, went +glimmering up the multitude of steps that led to Hilda's door. The hour +being so unseasonable, he intended merely to knock, and, as soon as +her voice from within should reassure him, to retire, keeping his +explanations and apologies for a fitter time. Accordingly, reaching the +lofty height where the maiden, as he trusted, lay asleep, with angels +watching over her, though the Virgin seemed to have suspended her care, +he tapped lightly at the door panels,--then knocked more forcibly,--then +thundered an impatient summons. No answer came; Hilda, evidently, was +not there. + +After assuring himself that this must be the fact, Kenyon descended the +stairs, but made a pause at every successive stage, and knocked at the +door of its apartment, regardless whose slumbers he might disturb, in +his anxiety to learn where the girl had last been seen. But, at each +closed entrance, there came those hollow echoes, which a chamber, or any +dwelling, great or small, never sends out, in response to human knuckles +or iron hammer, as long as there is life within to keep its heart from +getting dreary. + +Once indeed, on the lower landing-place, the sculptor fancied that there +was a momentary stir inside the door, as if somebody were listening at +the threshold. He hoped, at least, that the small iron-barred aperture +would be unclosed, through which Roman housekeepers are wont to take +careful cognizance of applicants for admission, from a traditionary +dread, perhaps, of letting in a robber or assassin. But it remained +shut; neither was the sound repeated; and Kenyon concluded that his +excited nerves had played a trick upon his senses, as they are apt to do +when we most wish for the clear evidence of the latter. + +There was nothing to be done, save to go heavily away, and await +whatever good or ill to-morrow's daylight might disclose. + +Betimes in the morning, therefore, Kenyon went back to the Via +Portoghese, before the slant rays of the sun had descended halfway down +the gray front of Hilda's tower. As he drew near its base, he saw the +doves perched in full session, on the sunny height of the battlements, +and a pair of them--who were probably their mistress's especial pets, +and the confidants of her bosom secrets, if Hilda had any--came shooting +down, and made a feint of alighting on his shoulder. But, though they +evidently recognized him, their shyness would not yet allow so decided +a demonstration. Kenyon's eyes followed them as they flew upward, hoping +that they might have come as joyful messengers of the girl's safety, +and that he should discern her slender form, half hidden by the parapet, +trimming the extinguished lamp at the Virgin's shrine, just as other +maidens set about the little duties of a household. Or, perhaps, he +might see her gentle and sweet face smiling down upon him, midway +towards heaven, as if she had flown thither for a day or two, just to +visit her kindred, but had been drawn earthward again by the spell of +unacknowledged love. + +But his eyes were blessed by no such fair vision or reality; nor, in +truth, were the eager, unquiet flutterings of the doves indicative of +any joyful intelligence, which they longed to share with Hilda's friend, +but of anxious inquiries that they knew not how to utter. They could +not tell, any more than he, whither their lost companion had withdrawn +herself, but were in the same void despondency with him, feeling their +sunny and airy lives darkened and grown imperfect, now that her sweet +society was taken out of it. + +In the brisk morning air, Kenyon found it much easier to pursue his +researches than at the preceding midnight, when, if any slumberers heard +the clamor that he made, they had responded only with sullen and drowsy +maledictions, and turned to sleep again. It must be a very dear and +intimate reality for which people will be content to give up a dream. +When the sun was fairly up, however, it was quite another thing. The +heterogeneous population, inhabiting the lower floor of the old tower, +and the other extensive regions of the palace, were now willing to tell +all they knew, and imagine a great deal more. The amiability of these +Italians, assisted by their sharp and nimble wits, caused them to +overflow with plausible suggestions, and to be very bounteous in their +avowals of interest for the lost Hilda. In a less demonstrative people, +such expressions would have implied an eagerness to search land and sea, +and never rest till she were found. In the mouths that uttered them they +meant good wishes, and were, so far, better than indifference. There +was little doubt that many of them felt a genuine kindness for the shy, +brown-haired, delicate young foreign maiden, who had flown from some +distant land to alight upon their tower, where she consorted only with +the doves. But their energy expended itself in exclamation, and they +were content to leave all more active measures to Kenyon, and to the +Virgin, whose affair it was to see that the faithful votary of her lamp +received no harm. + +In a great Parisian domicile, multifarious as its inhabitants might +be, the concierge under the archway would be cognizant of all their +incomings and issuings forth. But except in rare cases, the general +entrance and main staircase of a Roman house are left as free as the +street, of which they form a sort of by-lane. The sculptor, therefore, +could hope to find information about Hilda's movements only from casual +observers. + +On probing the knowledge of these people to the bottom, there was +various testimony as to the period when the girl had last been seen. +Some said that it was four days since there had been a trace of her; +but an English lady, in the second piano of the palace, was rather of +opinion that she had met her, the morning before, with a drawing-book +in her hand. Having no acquaintance with the young person, she had taken +little notice and might have been mistaken. A count, on the piano next +above, was very certain that he had lifted his hat to Hilda, under the +archway, two afternoons ago. An old woman, who had formerly tended the +shrine, threw some light upon the matter, by testifying that the lamp +required to be replenished once, at least, in three days, though its +reservoir of oil was exceedingly capacious. + +On the whole, though there was other evidence enough to create some +perplexity, Kenyon could not satisfy himself that she had been visible +since the afternoon of the third preceding day, when a fruit seller +remembered her coming out of the arched passage, with a sealed packet in +her hand. As nearly as he could ascertain, this was within an hour +after Hilda had taken leave of the sculptor at his own studio, with the +understanding that they were to meet at the Vatican the next day. Two +nights, therefore, had intervened, during which the lost maiden was +unaccounted for. + +The door of Hilda's apartments was still locked, as on the preceding +night; but Kenyon sought out the wife of the person who sublet them, and +prevailed on her to give him admittance by means of the duplicate key +which the good woman had in her possession. On entering, the maidenly +neatness and simple grace, recognizable in all the arrangements, made +him visibly sensible that this was the daily haunt of a pure soul, in +whom religion and the love of beauty were at one. + +Thence, the sturdy Roman matron led the sculptor across a narrow +passage, and threw open the door of a small chamber, on the threshold of +which he reverently paused. Within, there was a bed, covered with white +drapery, enclosed with snowy curtains like a tent, and of barely width +enough for a slender figure to repose upon it. The sight of this cool, +airy, and secluded bower caused the lover's heart to stir as if enough +of Hilda's gentle dreams were lingering there to make him happy for +a single instant. But then came the closer consciousness of her loss, +bringing along with it a sharp sting of anguish. + +"Behold, Signore," said the matron; "here is the little staircase by +which the signorina used to ascend and trim the Blessed Virgin's lamp. +She was worthy to be a Catholic, such pains the good child bestowed to +keep it burning; and doubtless the Blessed Mary will intercede for her, +in consideration of her pious offices, heretic though she was. What will +become of the old palazzo, now that the lamp is extinguished, the saints +above us only know! Will you mount, Signore, to the battlements, and see +if she have left any trace of herself there?" + +The sculptor stepped across the chamber and ascended the little +staircase, which gave him access to the breezy summit of the tower. It +affected him inexpressibly to see a bouquet of beautiful flowers beneath +the shrine, and to recognize in them an offering of his own to Hilda, +who had put them in a vase of water, and dedicated them to the Virgin, +in a spirit partly fanciful, perhaps, but still partaking of the +religious sentiment which so profoundly influenced her character. One +rosebud, indeed, she had selected for herself from the rich mass of +flowers; for Kenyon well remembered recognizing it in her bosom when he +last saw her at his studio. + +"That little part of my great love she took," said he to himself. "The +remainder she would have devoted to Heaven; but has left it withering +in the sun and wind. Ah! Hilda, Hilda, had you given me a right to watch +over you, this evil had not come!" + +"Be not downcast, signorino mio," said the Roman matron, in response to +the deep sigh which struggled out of Kenyon's breast. "The dear little +maiden, as we see, has decked yonder blessed shrine as devoutly as +I myself, or any Other good Catholic woman, could have done. It is a +religious act, and has more than the efficacy of a prayer. The signorina +will as surely come back as the sun will fall through the window +to-morrow no less than to-day. Her own doves have often been missing +for a day or two, but they were sure to come fluttering about her head +again, when she least expected them. So will it be with this dove-like +child." + +"It might be so," thought Kenyon, with yearning anxiety, "if a pure +maiden were as safe as a dove, in this evil world of ours." + +As they returned through the studio, with the furniture and arrangements +of which the sculptor was familiar, he missed a small ebony writing-desk +that he remembered as having always been placed on a table there. He +knew that it was Hilda's custom to deposit her letters in this desk, +as well as other little objects of which she wished to be specially +careful. + +"What has become of it?" he suddenly inquired, laying his hand on the +table. + +"Become of what, pray?" exclaimed the woman, a little disturbed. "Does +the Signore suspect a robbery, then?" + +"The signorina's writing-desk is gone," replied Kenyon; "it always stood +on this table, and I myself saw it there only a few days ago." + +"Ah, well!" said the woman, recovering her composure, which she seemed +partly to have lost. "The signorina has doubtless taken it away with +her. The fact is of good omen; for it proves that she did not go +unexpectedly, and is likely to return when it may best suit her +convenience." + +"This is very singular," observed Kenyon. "Have the rooms been entered +by yourself, or any other person, since the signorina's disappearance?" + +"Not by me, Signore, so help me Heaven and the saints!" said the matron. +"And I question whether there are more than two keys in Rome that will +suit this strange old lock. Here is one; and as for the other, the +signorina carlies it in her pocket." + +The sculptor had no reason to doubt the word of this respectable dame. +She appeared to be well meaning and kind hearted, as Roman matrons +generally are; except when a fit of passion incites them to shower +horrible curses on an obnoxious individual, or perhaps to stab him +with the steel stiletto that serves them for a hairpin. But Italian +asseverations of any questionable fact, however true they may chance to +be, have no witness of their truth in the faces of those who utter them. +Their words are spoken with strange earnestness, and yet do not vouch +for themselves as coming from any depth, like roots drawn out of the +substance of the soul, with some of the soil clinging to them. There is +always a something inscrutable, instead of frankness, in their eyes. In +short, they lie so much like truth, and speak truth so much as if they +were telling a lie, that their auditor suspects himself in the wrong, +whether he believes or disbelieves them; it being the one thing certain, +that falsehood is seldom an intolerable burden to the tenderest of +Italian consciences. + +"It is very strange what can have become of the desk!" repeated Kenyon, +looking the woman in the face. + +"Very strange, indeed, Signore," she replied meekly, without turning +away her eyes in the least, but checking his insight of them at about +half an inch below the surface. "I think the signorina must have taken +it with her." + +It seemed idle to linger here any longer. Kenyon therefore departed, +after making an arrangement with the woman, by the terms of which she +was to allow the apartments to remain in their present state, on his +assuming the responsibility for the rent. + +He spent the day in making such further search and investigation as he +found practicable; and, though at first trammelled by an unwillingness +to draw public attention to Hilda's affairs, the urgency of the +circumstances soon compelled him to be thoroughly in earnest. In the +course of a week, he tried all conceivable modes of fathoming the +mystery, not merely by his personal efforts and those of his brother +artists and friends, but through the police, who readily undertook the +task, and expressed strong confidence of success. But the Roman police +has very little efficiency, except in the interest of the despotism of +which it is a tool. With their cocked hats, shoulder belts, and swords, +they wear a sufficiently imposing aspect, and doubtless keep their eyes +open wide enough to track a political offender, but are too often blind +to private outrage, be it murder or any lesser crime. Kenyon counted +little upon their assistance, and profited by it not at all. + +Remembering the mystic words which Miriam had addressed to him, he +was anxious to meet her, but knew not whither she had gone, nor how +to obtain an interview either with herself or Donatello. The days wore +away, and still there were no tidings of the lost one; no lamp rekindled +before the Virgin's shrine; no light shining into the lover's heart; +no star of Hope--he was ready to say, as he turned his eyes almost +reproachfully upward--in heaven itself! + + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + + +THE FLIGHT OF HILDA'S DOVES + + +Along with the lamp on Hilda's tower, the sculptor now felt that a light +had gone out, or, at least, was ominously obscured, to which he owed +whatever cheerfulness had heretofore illuminated his cold, artistic +life. The idea of this girl had been like a taper of virgin wax, burning +with a pure and steady flame, and chasing away the evil spirits out of +the magic circle of its beams. It had darted its rays afar, and modified +the whole sphere in which Kenyon had his being. Beholding it no more, he +at once found himself in darkness and astray. + +This was the time, perhaps, when Kenyon first became sensible what a +dreary city is Rome, and what a terrible weight is there imposed on +human life, when any gloom within the heart corresponds to the spell of +ruin that has been thrown over the site of ancient empire. He wandered, +as it were, and stumbled over the fallen columns, and among the tombs, +and groped his way into the sepulchral darkness of the catacombs, and +found no path emerging from them. The happy may well enough continue to +be such, beneath the brilliant sky of Rome. But, if you go thither in +melancholy mood, if you go with a ruin in your heart, or with a +vacant site there, where once stood the airy fabric of happiness, now +vanished,--all the ponderous gloom of the Roman Past will pile itself +upon that spot, and crush you down as with the heaped-up marble and +granite, the earth-mounds, and multitudinous bricks of its material +decay. + +It might be supposed that a melancholy man would here make acquaintance +with a grim philosophy. He should learn to bear patiently his individual +griefs, that endure only for one little lifetime, when here are the +tokens of such infinite misfortune on an imperial scale, and when so +many far landmarks of time, all around him, are bringing the remoteness +of a thousand years ago into the sphere of yesterday. But it is in vain +that you seek this shrub of bitter sweetness among the plants that root +themselves on the roughness of massive walls, or trail downward from the +capitals of pillars, or spring out of the green turf in the palace of +the Caesars. It does not grow in Rome; not even among the five hundred +various weeds which deck the grassy arches of the Coliseum. You look +through a vista of century beyond century,--through much shadow, and a +little sunshine,--through barbarism and civilization, alternating with +one another like actors that have prearranged their parts: through +a broad pathway of progressive generations bordered by palaces and +temples, and bestridden by old, triumphal arches, until, in the +distance, you behold the obelisks, with their unintelligible +inscriptions, hinting at a past infinitely more remote than history +can define. Your own life is as nothing, when compared with that +immeasurable distance; but still you demand, none the less earnestly, a +gleam of sunshine, instead of a speck of shadow, on the step or two that +will bring you to your quiet rest. + +How exceedingly absurd! All men, from the date of the earliest +obelisk,--and of the whole world, moreover, since that far epoch, and +before,--have made a similar demand, and seldom had their wish. If they +had it, what are they the better now? But, even while you taunt yourself +with this sad lesson, your heart cries out obstreperously for its small +share of earthly happiness, and will not be appeased by the myriads of +dead hopes that lie crushed into the soil of Rome. How wonderful +that this our narrow foothold of the Present should hold its own so +constantly, and, while every moment changing, should still be like a +rock betwixt the encountering tides of the long Past and the infinite +To-come! + +Man of marble though he was, the sculptor grieved for the Irrevocable. +Looking back upon Hilda's way of life, he marvelled at his own blind +stupidity, which had kept him from remonstrating as a friend, if with no +stronger right against the risks that she continually encountered. Being +so innocent, she had no means of estimating those risks, nor even a +possibility of suspecting their existence. But he--who had spent +years in Rome, with a man's far wider scope of observation and +experience--knew things that made him shudder. It seemed to Kenyon, +looking through the darkly colored medium of his fears, that all modes +of crime were crowded into the close intricacy of Roman streets, and +that there was no redeeming element, such as exists in other dissolute +and wicked cities. + +For here was a priesthood, pampered, sensual, with red and bloated +cheeks, and carnal eyes. With apparently a grosser development of animal +life than most men, they were placed in an unnatural relation with +woman, and thereby lost the healthy, human conscience that pertains to +other human beings, who own the sweet household ties connecting them +with wife and daughter. And here was an indolent nobility, with no high +aims or opportunities, but cultivating a vicious way of life, as if +it were an art, and the only one which they cared to learn. Here was a +population, high and low, that had no genuine belief in virtue; and +if they recognized any act as criminal, they might throw off all +care, remorse, and memory of it, by kneeling a little while at the +confessional, and rising unburdened, active, elastic, and incited by +fresh appetite for the next ensuing sin. Here was a soldiery who felt +Rome to be their conquered city, and doubtless considered themselves the +legal inheritors of the foul license which Gaul, Goth, and Vandal have +here exercised in days gone by. + +And what localities for new crime existed in those guilty sites, +where the crime of departed ages used to be at home, and had its long, +hereditary haunt! What street in Rome, what ancient ruin, what one place +where man had standing-room, what fallen stone was there, unstained with +one or another kind of guilt! In some of the vicissitudes of the city's +pride or its calamity, the dark tide of human evil had swelled over it, +far higher than the Tiber ever rose against the acclivities of the +seven hills. To Kenyon's morbid view, there appeared to be a contagious +element, rising fog-like from the ancient depravity of Rome, and +brooding over the dead and half-rotten city, as nowhere else on earth. +It prolonged the tendency to crime, and developed an instantaneous +growth of it, whenever an opportunity was found; And where could it be +found so readily as here! In those vast palaces, there were a hundred +remote nooks where Innocence might shriek in vain. Beneath meaner houses +there were unsuspected dungeons that had once been princely chambers, +and open to the daylight; but, on account of some wickedness there +perpetrated, each passing age had thrown its handful of dust upon the +spot, and buried it from sight. Only ruffians knew of its existence, and +kept it for murder, and worse crime. + +Such was the city through which Hilda, for three years past, had been +wandering without a protector or a guide. She had trodden lightly over +the crumble of old crimes; she had taken her way amid the grime and +corruption which Paganism had left there, and a perverted Christianity +had made more noisome; walking saint-like through it all, with white, +innocent feet; until, in some dark pitfall that lay right across her +path, she had vanished out of sight. It was terrible to imagine what +hideous outrage might have thrust her into that abyss! + +Then the lover tried to comfort himself with the idea that Hilda's +sanctity was a sufficient safeguard. Ah, yes; she was so pure! The +angels, that were of the same sisterhood, would never let Hilda come to +harm. A miracle would be wrought on her behalf, as naturally as a father +would stretch out his hand to save a best-beloved child. Providence +would keep a little area and atmosphere about her as safe and wholesome +as heaven itself, although the flood of perilous iniquity might hem +her round, and its black waves hang curling above her head! But these +reflections were of slight avail. No doubt they were the religious +truth. Yet the ways of Providence are utterly inscrutable; and many a +murder has been done, and many an innocent virgin has lifted her white +arms, beseeching its aid in her extremity, and all in vain; so that, +though Providence is infinitely good and wise, and perhaps for that very +reason, it may be half an eternity before the great circle of its scheme +shall bring us the superabundant recompense for all these sorrows! But +what the lover asked was such prompt consolation as might consist with +the brief span of mortal life; the assurance of Hilda's present safety, +and her restoration within that very hour. + +An imaginative man, he suffered the penalty of his endowment in the +hundred-fold variety of gloomily tinted scenes that it presented to +him, in which Hilda was always a central figure. The sculptor forgot his +marble. Rome ceased to be anything, for him, but a labyrinth of dismal +streets, in one or another of which the lost girl had disappeared. He +was haunted with the idea that some circumstance, most important to be +known, and perhaps easily discoverable, had hitherto been overlooked, +and that, if he could lay hold of this one clew, it would guide him +directly in the track of Hilda's footsteps. With this purpose in +view, he went, every morning, to the Via Portoghese, and made it +the starting-point of fresh investigations. After nightfall, too, he +invariably returned thither, with a faint hope fluttering at his heart +that the lamp might again be shining on the summit of the tower, and +would dispel this ugly mystery out of the circle consecrated by its +rays. There being no point of which he could take firm hold, his mind +was filled with unsubstantial hopes and fears. Once Kenyon had seemed +to cut his life in marble; now he vaguely clutched at it, and found it +vapor. + +In his unstrung and despondent mood, one trifling circumstance affected +him with an idle pang. The doves had at first been faithful to their +lost mistress. They failed not to sit in a row upon her window-sill, +or to alight on the shrine, or the church-angels, and on the roofs +and portals of the neighboring houses, in evident expectation of her +reappearance. After the second week, however, they began to take flight, +and dropping off by pairs, betook themselves to other dove-cotes. Only a +single dove remained, and brooded drearily beneath the shrine. The +flock that had departed were like the many hopes that had vanished +from Kenyon's heart; the one that still lingered, and looked so +wretched,--was it a Hope, or already a Despair? + +In the street, one day, the sculptor met a priest of mild and venerable +aspect; and as his mind dwelt continually upon Hilda, and was especially +active in bringing up all incidents that had ever been connected with +her, it immediately struck him that this was the very father with whom +he had seen her at the confessional. Such trust did Hilda inspire +in him, that Kenyon had never asked what was the subject of the +communication between herself and this old priest. He had no reason for +imagining that it could have any relation with her disappearance, +so long subsequently; but, being thus brought face to face with a +personage, mysteriously associated, as he now remembered, with her whom +he had lost, an impulse ran before his thoughts and led the sculptor to +address him. + +It might be that the reverend kindliness of the old man's expression +took Kenyon's heart by surprise; at all events, he spoke as if there +were a recognized acquaintanceship, and an object of mutual interest +between them. + +"She has gone from me, father," said he. + +"Of whom do you speak, my son?" inquired the priest. + +"Of that sweet girl," answered Kenyon, "who knelt to you at the +confessional. Surely you remember her, among all the mortals to whose +confessions you have listened! For she alone could have had no sins to +reveal." + +"Yes; I remember," said the priest, with a gleam of recollection in his +eyes. "She was made to bear a miraculous testimony to the efficacy of +the divine ordinances of the Church, by seizing forcibly upon one of +them, and finding immediate relief from it, heretic though she was. +It is my purpose to publish a brief narrative of this miracle, for +the edification of mankind, in Latin, Italian, and English, from the +printing press of the Propaganda. Poor child! Setting apart her heresy, +she was spotless, as you say. And is she dead?" + +"Heaven forbid, father!" exclaimed Kenyon, shrinking back. "But she has +gone from me, I know not whither. It may be--yes, the idea seizes upon +my mind--that what she revealed to you will suggest some clew to the +mystery of her disappearance.'" + +"None, my son, none," answered the priest, shaking his head; +"nevertheless, I bid you be of good cheer. That young maiden is not +doomed to die a heretic. Who knows what the Blessed Virgin may at this +moment be doing for her soul! Perhaps, when you next behold her, she +will be clad in the shining white robe of the true faith." + +This latter suggestion did not convey all the comfort which the old +priest possibly intended by it; but he imparted it to the sculptor, +along with his blessing, as the two best things that he could bestow, +and said nothing further, except to bid him farewell. + +When they had parted, however, the idea of Hilda's conversion to +Catholicism recurred to her lover's mind, bringing with it certain +reflections, that gave a new turn to his surmises about the mystery into +which she had vanished. Not that he seriously apprehended--although +the superabundance of her religious sentiment might mislead her for +a moment--that the New England girl would permanently succumb to the +scarlet superstitions which surrounded her in Italy. But the incident +of the confessional if known, as probably it was, to the eager +propagandists who prowl about for souls, as cats to catch a mouse--would +surely inspire the most confident expectations of bringing her over to +the faith. With so pious an end in view, would Jesuitical morality be +shocked at the thought of kidnapping the mortal body, for the sake of +the immortal spirit that might otherwise be lost forever? Would not the +kind old priest, himself, deem this to be infinitely the kindest service +that he could perform for the stray lamb, who had so strangely sought +his aid? + +If these suppositions were well founded, Hilda was most likely a +prisoner in one of the religious establishments that are so numerous in +Rome. The idea, according to the aspect in which it was viewed, brought +now a degree of comfort, and now an additional perplexity. On the one +hand, Hilda was safe from any but spiritual assaults; on the other, +where was the possibility of breaking through all those barred portals, +and searching a thousand convent cells, to set her free? + +Kenyon, however, as it happened, was prevented from endeavoring to +follow out this surmise, which only the state of hopeless uncertainty, +that almost bewildered his reason, could have led him for a moment +to entertain. A communication reached him by an unknown hand, in +consequence of which, and within an hour after receiving it, he took his +way through one of the gates of Rome. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + + +A WALK ON THE CAMPAGNA + + +It was a bright forenoon of February; a month in which the brief +severity of a Roman winter is already past, and when violets and daisies +begin to show themselves in spots favored by the sun. The sculptor came +out of the city by the gate of San Sebastiano, and walked briskly along +the Appian Way. + +For the space of a mile or two beyond the gate, this ancient and famous +road is as desolate and disagreeable as most of the other Roman avenues. +It extends over small, uncomfortable paving-stones, between brick and +plastered walls, which are very solidly constructed, and so high as +almost to exclude a view of the surrounding country. The houses are of +most uninviting aspect, neither picturesque, nor homelike and social; +they have seldom or never a door opening on the wayside, but are +accessible only from the rear, and frown inhospitably upon the traveller +through iron-grated windows. Here and there appears a dreary inn or a +wine-shop, designated by the withered bush beside the entrance, within +which you discern a stone-built and sepulchral interior, where guests +refresh themselves with sour bread and goats'-milk cheese, washed down +with wine of dolorous acerbity. + +At frequent intervals along the roadside up-rises the ruin of an ancient +tomb. As they stand now, these structures are immensely high and broken +mounds of conglomerated brick, stone, pebbles, and earth, all molten +by time into a mass as solid and indestructible as if each tomb were +composed of a single boulder of granite. When first erected, they were +cased externally, no doubt, with slabs of polished marble, artfully +wrought bas-reliefs, and all such suitable adornments, and were rendered +majestically beautiful by grand architectural designs. This antique +splendor has long since been stolen from the dead, to decorate the +palaces and churches of the living. Nothing remains to the dishonored +sepulchres, except their massiveness. + +Even the pyramids form hardly a stranger spectacle, or are more alien +from human sympathies, than the tombs of the Appian Way, with their +gigantic height, breadth, and solidity, defying time and the elements, +and far too mighty to be demolished by an ordinary earthquake. Here you +may see a modern dwelling, and a garden with its vines and olive-trees, +perched on the lofty dilapidation of a tomb, which forms a precipice of +fifty feet in depth on each of the four sides. There is a home on +that funereal mound, where generations of children have been born, and +successive lives been spent, undisturbed by the ghost of the stern Roman +whose ashes were so preposterously burdened. Other sepulchres wear a +crown of grass, shrubbery, and forest-trees, which throw out a broad +sweep of branches, having had time, twice over, to be a thousand years +of age. On one of them stands a tower, which, though immemorially more +modern than the tomb, was itself built by immemorial hands, and is +now rifted quite from top to bottom by a vast fissure of decay; the +tomb-hillock, its foundation, being still as firm as ever, and likely to +endure until the last trump shall rend it wide asunder, and summon forth +its unknown dead. + +Yes; its unknown dead! For, except in one or two doubtful instances, +these mountainous sepulchral edifices have not availed to keep so much +as the bare name of an individual or a family from oblivion. Ambitious +of everlasting remembrance, as they were, the slumberers might just +as well have gone quietly to rest, each in his pigeon-hole of a +columbarium, or under his little green hillock in a graveyard, without a +headstone to mark the spot. It is rather satisfactory than otherwise, to +think that all these idle pains have turned out so utterly abortive. + +About two miles, or more, from the city gate, and right upon the +roadside, Kenyon passed an immense round pile, sepulchral in its +original purposes, like those already mentioned. It was built of +great blocks of hewn stone, on a vast, square foundation of rough, +agglomerated material, such as composes the mass of all the other +ruinous tombs. But whatever might be the cause, it was in a far +better state of preservation than they. On its broad summit rose the +battlements of a mediaeval fortress, out of the midst of which (so long +since had time begun to crumble the supplemental structure, and cover +it with soil, by means of wayside dust) grew trees, bushes, and thick +festoons of ivy. This tomb of a woman had become the citadel and +donjon-keep of a castle; and all the care that Cecilia Metella's husband +could bestow, to secure endless peace for her beloved relics, had only +sufficed to make that handful of precious ashes the nucleus of battles, +long ages after her death. + +A little beyond this point, the sculptor turned aside from the Appian +Way, and directed his course across the Campagna, guided by tokens that +were obvious only to himself. On one side of him, but at a distance, the +Claudian aqueduct was striding over fields and watercourses. Before him, +many miles away, with a blue atmosphere between, rose the Alban hills, +brilliantly silvered with snow and sunshine. + +He was not without a companion. A buffalo-calf, that seemed shy and +sociable by the selfsame impulse, had begun to make acquaintance with +him, from the moment when he left the road. This frolicsome creature +gambolled along, now before, now behind; standing a moment to gaze at +him, with wild, curious eyes, he leaped aside and shook his shaggy head, +as Kenyon advanced too nigh; then, after loitering in the rear, he came +galloping up, like a charge of cavalry, but halted, all of a sudden, +when the sculptor turned to look, and bolted across the Campagna at the +slightest signal of nearer approach. The young, sportive thing, Kenyon +half fancied, was serving him as a guide, like the heifer that led +Cadmus to the site of his destined city; for, in spite of a hundred +vagaries, his general course was in the right direction, and along by +several objects which the sculptor had noted as landmarks of his way. + +In this natural intercourse with a rude and healthy form of animal life, +there was something that wonderfully revived Kenyon's spirits. The warm +rays of the sun, too, were wholesome for him in body and soul; and so +was a breeze that bestirred itself occasionally, as if for the sole +purpose of breathing upon his cheek and dying softly away, when he would +fain have felt a little more decided kiss. This shy but loving breeze +reminded him strangely of what Hilda's deportment had sometimes been +towards himself. + +The weather had very much to do, no doubt, with these genial and +delightful sensations, that made the sculptor so happy with mere life, +in spite of a head and heart full of doleful thoughts, anxieties, and +fears, which ought in all reason to have depressed him. It was like no +weather that exists anywhere, save in Paradise and in Italy; certainly +not in America, where it is always too strenuous on the side either of +heat or cold. Young as the season was, and wintry, as it would have +been under a more rigid sky, it resembled summer rather than what we +New Englanders recognize in our idea of spring. But there was an +indescribable something, sweet, fresh, and remotely affectionate, which +the matronly summer loses, and which thrilled, and, as it were, tickled +Kenyon's heart with a feeling partly of the senses, yet far more a +spiritual delight. In a word, it was as if Hilda's delicate breath were +on his cheek. + +After walking at a brisk pace for about half an hour, he reached a +spot where an excavation appeared to have been begun, at some not +very distant period. There was a hollow space in the earth, looking +exceedingly like a deserted cellar, being enclosed within old +subterranean walls, constructed of thin Roman bricks, and made +accessible by a narrow flight of stone steps. A suburban villa had +probably stood over this site, in the imperial days of Rome, and these +might have been the ruins of a bathroom, or some other apartment that +was required to be wholly or partly under ground. A spade can scarcely +be put into that soil, so rich in lost and forgotten things, without +hitting upon some discovery which would attract all eyes, in any other +land. If you dig but a little way, you gather bits of precious marble, +coins, rings, and engraved gems; if you go deeper, you break into +columbaria, or into sculptured and richly frescoed apartments that look +like festive halls, but were only sepulchres. + +The sculptor descended into the cellar-like cavity, and sat down on a +block of stone. His eagerness had brought him thither sooner than +the appointed hour. The sunshine fell slantwise into the hollow, and +happened to be resting on what Kenyon at first took to be a shapeless +fragment of stone, possibly marble, which was partly concealed by the +crumbling down of earth. + +But his practised eye was soon aware of something artistic in this rude +object. To relieve the anxious tedium of his situation, he cleared +away some of the soil, which seemed to have fallen very recently, and +discovered a headless figure of marble. It was earth stained, as well it +might be, and had a slightly corroded surface, but at once impressed the +sculptor as a Greek production, and wonderfully delicate and beautiful. +The head was gone; both arms were broken off at the elbow. Protruding +from the loose earth, however, Kenyon beheld the fingers of a marble +hand; it was still appended to its arm, and a little further search +enabled him to find the other. Placing these limbs in what the nice +adjustment of the fractures proved to be their true position, the +poor, fragmentary woman forthwith showed that she retained her modest +instincts to the last. She had perished with them, and snatched them +back at the moment of revival. For these long-buried hands immediately +disposed themselves in the manner that nature prompts, as the antique +artist knew, and as all the world has seen, in the Venus de' Medici. + +"What a discovery is here!" thought Kenyon to himself. "I seek for +Hilda, and find a marble woman! Is the omen good or ill?" + +In a corner of the excavation lay a small round block of stone, much +incrusted with earth that had dried and hardened upon it. So, at least, +you would have described this object, until the sculptor lifted it, +turned it hither and thither in his hands, brushed off the clinging +soil, and finally placed it on the slender neck of the newly discovered +statue. The effect was magical. It immediately lighted up and vivified +the whole figure, endowing it with personality, soul, and intelligence. +The beautiful Idea at once asserted its immortality, and converted that +heap of forlorn fragments into a whole, as perfect to the mind, if not +to the eye, as when the new marble gleamed with snowy lustre; nor was +the impression marred by the earth that still hung upon the exquisitely +graceful limbs, and even filled the lovely crevice of the lips. Kenyon +cleared it away from between them, and almost deemed himself rewarded +with a living smile. + +It was either the prototype or a better repetition of the Venus of the +Tribune. But those who have been dissatisfied with the small head, the +narrow, soulless face, the button-hole eyelids, of that famous statue, +and its mouth such as nature never moulded, should see the genial +breadth of this far nobler and sweeter countenance. It is one of the few +works of antique sculpture in which we recognize womanhood, and that, +moreover, without prejudice to its divinity. + +Here, then, was a treasure for the sculptor to have found! How happened +it to be lying there, beside its grave of twenty centuries? Why were not +the tidings of its discovery already noised abroad? The world was richer +than yesterday, by something far more precious than gold. Forgotten +beauty had come back, as beautiful as ever; a goddess had risen from her +long slumber, and was a goddess still. Another cabinet in the Vatican +was destined to shine as lustrously as that of the Apollo Belvedere; +or, if the aged pope should resign his claim, an emperor would woo this +tender marble, and win her as proudly as an imperial bride! + +Such were the thoughts with which Kenyon exaggerated to himself the +importance of the newly discovered statue, and strove to feel at least +a portion of the interest which this event would have inspired in him a +little while before. But, in reality, he found it difficult to fix +his mind upon the subject. He could hardly, we fear, be reckoned a +consummate artist, because there was something dearer to him than his +art; and, by the greater strength of a human affection, the divine +statue seemed to fall asunder again, and become only a heap of worthless +fragments. + +While the sculptor sat listlessly gazing at it, there was a sound of +small hoofs, clumsily galloping on the Campagna; and soon his frisky +acquaintance, the buffalo-calf, came and peeped over the edge of the +excavation. Almost at the same moment he heard voices, which approached +nearer and nearer; a man's voice, and a feminine one, talking the +musical tongue of Italy. Besides the hairy visage of his four footed +friend, Kenyon now saw the figures of a peasant and a contadina, making +gestures of salutation to him, on the opposite verge of the hollow +space. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + + +THE PEASANT AND CONTADINA + + +They descended into the excavation: a young peasant, in the short blue +jacket, the small-clothes buttoned at the knee, and buckled shoes, that +compose one of the ugliest dresses ever worn by man, except the wearer's +form have a grace which any garb, or the nudity of an antique statue, +would equally set off; and, hand in hand with him, a village girl, in +one of those brilliant costumes largely kindled up with scarlet, and +decorated with gold embroidery, in which the contadinas array themselves +on feast-days. But Kenyon was not deceived; he had recognized the voices +of his friends, indeed, even before their disguised figures came between +him and the sunlight. Donatello was the peasant; the contadina, with the +airy smile, half mirthful, though it shone out of melancholy eyes,--was +Miriam. + +They both greeted the sculptor with a familiar kindness which reminded +him of the days when Hilda and they and he had lived so happily +together, before the mysterious adventure of the catacomb. What a +succession of sinister events had followed one spectral figure out of +that gloomy labyrinth. + +"It is carnival time, you know," said Miriam, as if in explanation of +Donatello's and her own costume. "Do you remember how merrily we spent +the Carnival, last year?" + +"It seems many years ago," replied Kenyon. "We are all so changed!" + +When individuals approach one another with deep purposes on both sides, +they seldom come at once to the matter which they have most at heart. +They dread the electric shock of a too sudden contact with it. A natural +impulse leads them to steal gradually onward, hiding themselves, as it +were, behind a closer, and still a closer topic, until they stand face +to face with the true point of interest. Miriam was conscious of this +impulse, and partially obeyed it. + +"So your instincts as a sculptor have brought you into the presence of +our newly discovered statue," she observed. "Is it not beautiful? A +far truer image of immortal womanhood than the poor little damsel at +Florence, world famous though she be." + +"Most beautiful," said Kenyon, casting an indifferent glance at the +Venus. "The time has been when the sight of this statue would have been +enough to make the day memorable." + +"And will it not do so now?" Miriam asked. + +"I fancied so, indeed, when we discovered it two days ago. It is +Donatello's prize. We were sitting here together, planning an interview +with you, when his keen eyes detected the fallen goddess, almost +entirely buried under that heap of earth, which the clumsy excavators +showered down upon her, I suppose. We congratulated ourselves, chiefly +for your sake. The eyes of us three are the only ones to which she +has yet revealed herself. Does it not frighten you a little, like the +apparition of a lovely woman that livid of old, and has long lain in the +grave?" + +"Ah, Miriam! I cannot respond to you," said the sculptor, with +irrepressible impatience. "Imagination and the love of art have both +died out of me." + +"Miriam," interposed Donatello with gentle gravity, "why should we keep +our friend in suspense? We know what anxiety he feels. Let us give him +what intelligence we can." + +"You are so direct and immediate, my beloved friend!" answered Miriam +with an unquiet smile. "There are several reasons why I should like +to play round this matter a little while, and cover it with fanciful +thoughts, as we strew a grave with flowers." + +"A grave!" exclaimed the sculptor. + +"No grave in which your heart need be buried," she replied; "you have no +such calamity to dread. But I linger and hesitate, because every word I +speak brings me nearer to a crisis from which I shrink. Ah, Donatello! +let us live a little longer the life of these last few days! It is so +bright, so airy, so childlike, so without either past or future! Here, +on the wild Campagna, you seem to have found, both for yourself and me, +the life that belonged to you in early youth; the sweet irresponsible +life which you inherited from your mythic ancestry, the Fauns of Monte +Beni. Our stern and black reality will come upon us speedily enough. +But, first, a brief time more of this strange happiness." + +"I dare not linger upon it," answered Donatello, with an expression +that reminded the sculptor of the gloomiest days of his remorse at Monte +Beni. "I dare to be so happy as you have seen me, only because I have +felt the time to be so brief." + +"One day, then!" pleaded Miriam. "One more day in the wild freedom of +this sweet-scented air." + +"Well, one more day," said Donatello, smiling; and his smile touched +Kenyon with a pathos beyond words, there being gayety and sadness both +melted into it; "but here is Hilda's friend, and our own. Comfort him, +at least, and set his heart at rest, since you have it partly in your +power." + +"Ah, surely he might endure his pangs a little longer!" cried Miriam, +turning to Kenyon with a tricksy, fitful kind of mirth, that served to +hide some solemn necessity, too sad and serious to be looked at in its +naked aspect. "You love us both, I think, and will be content to suffer +for our sakes, one other day. Do I ask too much?" + +"Tell me of Hilda," replied the sculptor; "tell me only that she is +safe, and keep back what else you will." + +"Hilda is safe," said Miriam. "There is a Providence purposely for +Hilda, as I remember to have told you long ago. But a great trouble--an +evil deed, let us acknowledge it has spread out its dark branches so +widely, that the shadow falls on innocence as well as guilt. There was +one slight link that connected your sweet Hilda with a crime which it +was her unhappy fortune to witness, but of which I need not say she was +as guiltless as the angels that looked out of heaven, and saw it too. +No matter, now, what the consequence has been. You shall have your lost +Hilda back, and--who knows?--perhaps tenderer than she was." + +"But when will she return?" persisted the sculptor; "tell me the when, +and where, and how!" + +"A little patience. Do not press me so," said Miriam; and again Kenyon +was struck by the sprite-like, fitful characteristic of her manner, and +a sort of hysteric gayety, which seemed to be a will-o'-the-wisp from +a sorrow stagnant at her heart. "You have more time to spare than I. +First, listen to something that I have to tell. We will talk of Hilda by +and by." + +Then Miriam spoke of her own life, and told facts that threw a gleam +of light over many things which had perplexed the sculptor in all his +previous knowledge of her. She described herself as springing from +English parentage, on the mother's side, but with a vein, likewise, of +Jewish blood; yet connected, through her father, with one of those few +princely families of Southern Italy, which still retain great wealth and +influence. And she revealed a name at which her auditor started and grew +pale; for it was one that, only a few years before, had been familiar +to the world in connection with a mysterious and terrible event. +The reader, if he think it worth while to recall some of the strange +incidents which have been talked of, and forgotten, within no long time +past, will remember Miriam's name. + +"You shudder at me, I perceive," said Miriam, suddenly interrupting her +narrative. + +"No; you were innocent," replied the sculptor. "I shudder at the +fatality that seems to haunt your footsteps, and throws a shadow of +crime about your path, you being guiltless." + +"There was such a fatality," said Miriam; "yes; the shadow fell upon +me, innocent, but I went astray in it, and wandered--as Hilda could tell +you--into crime." + +She went on to say that, while yet a child, she had lost her English +mother. From a very early period of her life, there had been a contract +of betrothal between herself and a certain marchese, the representative +of another branch of her paternal house,--a family arrangement between +two persons of disproportioned ages, and in which feeling went for +nothing. Most Italian girls of noble rank would have yielded themselves +to such a marriage as an affair of course. But there was something +in Miriam's blood, in her mixed race, in her recollections of her +mother,--some characteristic, finally, in her own nature,--which +had given her freedom of thought, and force of will, and made this +prearranged connection odious to her. Moreover, the character of her +destined husband would have been a sufficient and insuperable objection; +for it betrayed traits so evil, so treacherous, so vile, and yet so +strangely subtle, as could only be accounted for by the insanity which +often develops itself in old, close-kept races of men, when long unmixed +with newer blood. Reaching the age when the marriage contract should +have been fulfilled, Miriam had utterly repudiated it. + +Some time afterwards had occurred that terrible event to which Miriam +had alluded when she revealed her name; an event, the frightful and +mysterious circumstances of which will recur to many minds, but of which +few or none can have found for themselves a satisfactory explanation. It +only concerns the present narrative, inasmuch as the suspicion of being +at least an accomplice in the crime fell darkly and directly upon Miriam +herself. + +"But you know that I am innocent!" she cried, interrupting herself +again, and looking Kenyon in the face. + +"I know it by my deepest consciousness," he answered; "and I know it by +Hilda's trust and entire affection, which you never could have won had +you been capable of guilt." + +"That is sure ground, indeed, for pronouncing me innocent," said Miriam, +with the tears gushing into her eyes. "Yet I have since become a horror +to your saint-like Hilda, by a crime which she herself saw me help to +perpetrate!" + +She proceeded with her story. The great influence of her family +connections had shielded her from some of the consequences of her +imputed guilt. But, in her despair, she had fled from home, and had +surrounded her flight with such circumstances as rendered it the most +probable conclusion that she had committed suicide. Miriam, however, was +not of the feeble nature which takes advantage of that obvious and poor +resource in earthly difficulties. She flung herself upon the world, +and speedily created a new sphere, in which Hilda's gentle purity, +the sculptor's sensibility, clear thought, and genius, and Donatello's +genial simplicity had given her almost her first experience of +happiness. Then came that ill-omened adventure of the catacomb, The +spectral figure which she encountered there was the evil fate that had +haunted her through life. + +Looking back upon what had happened, Miriam observed, she now considered +him a madman. Insanity must have been mixed up with his original +composition, and developed by those very acts of depravity which it +suggested, and still more intensified, by the remorse that ultimately +followed them. Nothing was stranger in his dark career than the +penitence which often seemed to go hand in hand with crime. Since his +death she had ascertained that it finally led him to a convent, +where his severe and self-inflicted penance had even acquired him the +reputation of unusual sanctity, and had been the cause of his enjoying +greater freedom than is commonly allowed to monks. + +"Need I tell you more?" asked Miriam, after proceeding thus far. "It +is still a dim and dreary mystery, a gloomy twilight into which I guide +you; but possibly you may catch a glimpse of much that I myself can +explain only by conjecture. At all events, you can comprehend what my +situation must have been, after that fatal interview in the catacomb. +My persecutor had gone thither for penance, but followed me forth with +fresh impulses to crime. He had me in his power. Mad as he was, and +wicked as he was, with one word he could have blasted me in the belief +of all the world. In your belief too, and Hilda's! Even Donatello would +have shrunk from me with horror!" + +"Never," said Donatello, "my instinct would have known you innocent." + +"Hilda and Donatello and myself,--we three would have acquitted you," +said Kenyon, "let the world say what it might. Ah, Miriam, you should +have told us this sad story sooner!" + +"I thought often of revealing it to you," answered Miriam; "on one +occasion, especially,--it was after you had shown me your Cleopatra; +it seemed to leap out of my heart, and got as far as my very lips. But +finding you cold to accept my confidence, I thrust it back again. Had I +obeyed my first impulse, all would have turned out differently." + +"And Hilda!" resumed the sculptor. "What can have been her connection +with these dark incidents?" + +"She will, doubtless, tell you with her own lips," replied Miriam. +"Through sources of information which I possess in Rome, I can assure +you of her safety. In two days more--by the help of the special +Providence that, as I love to tell you, watches over Hilda--she shall +rejoin you." + +"Still two days more!" murmured the sculptor. + +"Ah, you are cruel now! More cruel than you know!" exclaimed Miriam, +with another gleam of that fantastic, fitful gayety, which had more than +once marked her manner during this interview. "Spare your poor friends!" + +"I know not what you mean, Miriam," said Kenyon. + +"No matter," she replied; "you will understand hereafter. But could +you think it? Here is Donatello haunted with strange remorse, and an +unmitigable resolve to obtain what he deems justice upon himself. He +fancies, with a kind of direct simplicity, which I have vainly tried to +combat, that, when a wrong has been done, the doer is bound to submit +himself to whatsoever tribunal takes cognizance of such things, and +abide its judgment. I have assured him that there is no such thing +as earthly justice, and especially none here, under the head of +Christendom." + +"We will not argue the point again," said Donatello, smiling. "I have no +head for argument, but only a sense, an impulse, an instinct, I believe, +which sometimes leads me right. But why do we talk now of what may make +us sorrowful? There are still two days more. Let us be happy!" + +It appeared to Kenyon that since he last saw Donatello, some of the +sweet and delightful characteristics of the antique Faun had returned +to him. There were slight, careless graces, pleasant and simple +peculiarities, that had been obliterated by the heavy grief through +which he was passing at Monte Beni, and out of which he had hardly +emerged when the sculptor parted with Miriam and him beneath the bronze +pontiffs outstretched hand. These happy blossoms had now reappeared. A +playfulness came out of his heart, and glimmered like firelight in +his actions, alternating, or even closely intermingled, with profound +sympathy and serious thought. + +"Is he not beautiful?" said Miriam, watching the sculptor's eye as +it dwelt admiringly on Donatello. "So changed, yet still, in a deeper +sense, so much the same! He has travelled in a circle, as all things +heavenly and earthly do, and now comes back to his original self, with +an inestimable treasure of improvement won from an experience of pain. +How wonderful is this! I tremble at my own thoughts, yet must needs +probe them to their depths. Was the crime--in which he and I were +wedded--was it a blessing, in that strange disguise? Was it a means of +education, bringing a simple and imperfect nature to a point of feeling +and intelligence which it could have reached under no other discipline?" + +"You stir up deep and perilous matter, Miriam," replied Kenyon. "I dare +not follow you into the unfathomable abysses whither you are tending." + +"Yet there is a pleasure in them! I delight to brood on the verge of +this great mystery," returned she. "The story of the fall of man! Is it +not repeated in our romance of Monte Beni? And may we follow the analogy +yet further? Was that very sin,--into which Adam precipitated himself +and all his race, was it the destined means by which, over a long +pathway of toil and sorrow, we are to attain a higher, brighter, and +profounder happiness, than our lost birthright gave? Will not this idea +account for the permitted existence of sin, as no other theory can?" + +"It is too dangerous, Miriam! I cannot follow you!" repeated the +sculptor. "Mortal man has no right to tread on the ground where you now +set your feet." + +"Ask Hilda what she thinks of it," said Miriam, with a thoughtful smile. +"At least, she might conclude that sin--which man chose instead of +good--has been so beneficently handled by omniscience and omnipotence, +that, whereas our dark enemy sought to destroy us by it, it has really +become an instrument most effective in the education of intellect and +soul." + +Miriam paused a little longer among these meditations, which the +sculptor rightly felt to be so perilous; she then pressed his hand, in +token of farewell. + +"The day after to-morrow," said she, "an hour before sunset, go to the +Corso, and stand in front of the fifth house on your left, beyond the +Antonine column. You will learn tidings of a friend." + +Kenyon would have besought her for more definite intelligence, but she +shook her head, put her finger on her lips, and turned away with an +illusive smile. The fancy impressed him that she too, like Donatello, +had reached a wayside paradise, in their mysterious life journey, where +they both threw down the burden of the before and after, and, except for +this interview with himself, were happy in the flitting moment. To-day +Donatello was the sylvan Faun; to-day Miriam was his fit companion, +a Nymph of grove or fountain; to-morrow--a remorseful man and woman, +linked by a marriage bond of crime--they would set forth towards an +inevitable goal. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + + +A SCENE IN THE CORSO + + +On the appointed afternoon, Kenyon failed not to make his appearance in +the Corso, and at an hour much earlier than Miriam had named. + +It was carnival time. The merriment of this famous festival was in full +progress; and the stately avenue of the Corso was peopled with hundreds +of fantastic shapes, some of which probably represented the mirth of +ancient times, surviving through all manner of calamity, ever since the +days of the Roman Empire. For a few afternoons of early spring, this +mouldy gayety strays into the sunshine; all the remainder of the +year, it seems to be shut up in the catacombs or some other sepulchral +storehouse of the past. + +Besides these hereditary forms, at which a hundred generations have +laughed, there were others of modern date, the humorous effluence of the +day that was now passing. It is a day, however, and an age, that appears +to be remarkably barren, when compared with the prolific originality +of former times, in productions of a scenic and ceremonial character, +whether grave or gay. To own the truth, the Carnival is alive, this +present year, only because it has existed through centuries gone by. It +is traditionary, not actual. If decrepit and melancholy Rome smiles, +and laughs broadly, indeed, at carnival time, it is not in the old +simplicity of real mirth, but with a half-conscious effort, like our +self-deceptive pretence of jollity at a threadbare joke. Whatever it may +once have been, it is now but a narrow stream of merriment, noisy of set +purpose, running along the middle of the Corso, through the solemn heart +of the decayed city, without extending its shallow influence on either +side. Nor, even within its own limits, does it affect the mass of +spectators, but only a comparatively few, in street and balcony, who +carry on the warfare of nosegays and counterfeit sugar plums. The +populace look on with staid composure; the nobility and priesthood take +little or no part in the matter; and, but for the hordes of Anglo-Saxons +who annually take up the flagging mirth, the Carnival might long ago +have been swept away, with the snowdrifts of confetti that whiten all +the pavement. + +No doubt, however, the worn-out festival is still new to the youthful +and light hearted, who make the worn-out world itself as fresh as Adam +found it on his first forenoon in Paradise. It may be only age and +care that chill the life out of its grotesque and airy riot, with the +impertinence of their cold criticism. + +Kenyon, though young, had care enough within his breast to render the +Carnival the emptiest of mockeries. Contrasting the stern anxiety of his +present mood with the frolic spirit of the preceding year, he fancied +that so much trouble had, at all events, brought wisdom in its train. +But there is a wisdom that looks grave, and sneers at merriment; and +again a deeper wisdom, that stoops to be gay as often as occasion +serves, and oftenest avails itself of shallow and trifling grounds of +mirth; because, if we wait for more substantial ones, we seldom can be +gay at all. Therefore, had it been possible, Kenyon would have done well +to mask himself in some wild, hairy visage, and plunge into the throng +of other maskers, as at the Carnival before. Then Donatello had danced +along the Corso in all the equipment of a Faun, doing the part with +wonderful felicity of execution, and revealing furry ears, which looked +absolutely real; and Miriam had been alternately a lady of the antique +regime, in powder and brocade, and the prettiest peasant girl of the +Campagna, in the gayest of costumes; while Hilda, sitting demurely in a +balcony, had hit the sculptor with a single rosebud,--so sweet and fresh +a bud that he knew at once whose hand had flung it. + +These were all gone; all those dear friends whose sympathetic mirth had +made him gay. Kenyon felt as if an interval of many years had passed +since the last Carnival. He had grown old, the nimble jollity was tame, +and the maskers dull and heavy; the Corso was but a narrow and shabby +street of decaying palaces; and even the long, blue streamer of Italian +sky, above it, not half so brightly blue as formerly. + +Yet, if he could have beheld the scene with his clear, natural eyesight, +he might still have found both merriment and splendor in it. Everywhere, +and all day long, there had been tokens of the festival, in the baskets +brimming over with bouquets, for sale at the street corners, or borne +about on people's heads; while bushels upon bushels of variously colored +confetti were displayed, looking just like veritable sugar plums; so +that a stranger would have imagined that the whole commerce and business +of stern old Rome lay in flowers and sweets. And now, in the sunny +afternoon, there could hardly be a spectacle more picturesque than the +vista of that noble street, stretching into the interminable distance +between two rows of lofty edifices, from every window of which, and +many a balcony, flaunted gay and gorgeous carpets, bright silks, scarlet +cloths with rich golden fringes, and Gobelin tapestry, still lustrous +with varied hues, though the product of antique looms. Each separate +palace had put on a gala dress, and looked festive for the occasion, +whatever sad or guilty secret it might hide within. Every window, +moreover, was alive with the faces of women, rosy girls, and children, +all kindled into brisk and mirthful expression, by the incidents in the +street below. In the balconies that projected along the palace fronts +stood groups of ladies, some beautiful, all richly dressed, scattering +forth their laughter, shrill, yet sweet, and the musical babble of their +voices, to thicken into an airy tumult over the heads of common mortals. + +All these innumerable eyes looked down into the street, the whole +capacity of which was thronged with festal figures, in such fantastic +variety that it had taken centuries to contrive them; and through the +midst of the mad, merry stream of human life rolled slowly onward a +never-ending procession of all the vehicles in Rome, from the ducal +carriage, with the powdered coachman high in front, and the three golden +lackeys clinging in the rear, down to the rustic cart drawn by its +single donkey. Among this various crowd, at windows and in balconies, in +cart, cab, barouche, or gorgeous equipage, or bustling to and fro afoot, +there was a sympathy of nonsense; a true and genial brotherhood and +sisterhood, based on the honest purpose--and a wise one, too--of being +foolish, all together. The sport of mankind, like its deepest earnest, +is a battle; so these festive people fought one another with an +ammunition of sugar plums and flowers. + +Not that they were veritable sugar plums, however, but something that +resembled them only as the apples of Sodom look like better fruit. +They were concocted mostly of lime, with a grain of oat, or some other +worthless kernel, in the midst. Besides the hailstorm of confetti, the +combatants threw handfuls of flour or lime into the air, where it hung +like smoke over a battlefield, or, descending, whitened a black coat or +priestly robe, and made the curly locks of youth irreverently hoary. + +At the same time with this acrid contest of quicklime, which caused much +effusion of tears from suffering eyes, a gentler warfare of flowers +was carried on, principally between knights and ladies. Originally, no +doubt, when this pretty custom was first instituted, it may have had a +sincere and modest import. Each youth and damsel, gathering bouquets +of field flowers, or the sweetest and fairest that grew in their own +gardens, all fresh and virgin blossoms, flung them with true aim at the +one, or few, whom they regarded with a sentiment of shy partiality at +least, if not with love. Often, the lover in the Corso may thus have +received from his bright mistress, in her father's princely balcony, +the first sweet intimation that his passionate glances had not struck +against a heart of marble. What more appropriate mode of suggesting +her tender secret could a maiden find than by the soft hit of a rosebud +against a young man's cheek? + +This was the pastime and the earnest of a more innocent and homelier +age. Nowadays the nosegays are gathered and tied up by sordid hands, +chiefly of the most ordinary flowers, and are sold along the Corso, +at mean price, yet more than such Venal things are worth. Buying a +basketful, you find them miserably wilted, as if they had flown hither +and thither through two or three carnival days already; muddy, too, +having been fished up from the pavement, where a hundred feet have +trampled on them. You may see throngs of men and boys who thrust +themselves beneath the horses' hoofs to gather up bouquets that were +aimed amiss from balcony and carriage; these they sell again, and yet +once more, and ten times over, defiled as they all are with the wicked +filth of Rome. + +Such are the flowery favors--the fragrant bunches of sentiment--that fly +between cavalier and dame, and back again, from one end of the Corso to +the other. Perhaps they may symbolize, more aptly than was intended, +the poor, battered, wilted hearts of those who fling them; hearts +which--crumpled and crushed by former possessors, and stained with +various mishap--have been passed from hand to hand along the muddy +street-way of life, instead of being treasured in one faithful bosom. + +These venal and polluted flowers, therefore, and those deceptive +bonbons, are types of the small reality that still subsists in the +observance of the Carnival. Yet the government seemed to imagine that +there might be excitement enough,--wild mirth, perchance, following its +antics beyond law, and frisking from frolic into earnest,--to render it +expedient to guard the Corso with an imposing show of military power. +Besides the ordinary force of gendarmes, a strong patrol of papal +dragoons, in steel helmets and white cloaks, were stationed at all the +street corners. Detachments of French infantry stood by their stacked +muskets in the Piazza del Popolo, at one extremity of the course, and +before the palace of the Austrian embassy, at the other, and by the +column of Antoninus, midway between. Had that chained tiger-cat, the +Roman populace, shown only so much as the tip of his claws, the sabres +would have been flashing and the bullets whistling, in right earnest, +among the combatants who now pelted one another with mock sugar plums +and wilted flowers. + +But, to do the Roman people justice, they were restrained by a better +safeguard than the sabre or the bayonet; it was their own gentle +courtesy, which imparted a sort of sacredness to the hereditary +festival. At first sight of a spectacle so fantastic and extravagant, a +cool observer might have imagined the whole town gone mad; but, in the +end, he would see that all this apparently unbounded license is kept +strictly within a limit of its own; he would admire a people who can +so freely let loose their mirthful propensities, while muzzling those +fiercer ones that tend to mischief. Everybody seemed lawless; nobody was +rude. If any reveller overstepped the mark, it was sure to be no Roman, +but an Englishman or an American; and even the rougher play of this +Gothic race was still softened by the insensible influence of a moral +atmosphere more delicate, in some respects, than we breathe at home. Not +that, after all, we like the fine Italian spirit better than our own; +popular rudeness is sometimes the symptom of rude moral health. But, +where a Carnival is in question, it would probably pass off more +decorously, as well as more airily and delightfully, in Rome, than in +any Anglo-Saxon city. + +When Kenyon emerged from a side lane into the Corso, the mirth was at +its height. Out of the seclusion of his own feelings, he looked forth at +the tapestried and damask-curtained palaces, the slow-moving double line +of carriages, and the motley maskers that swarmed on foot, as if he were +gazing through the iron lattice of a prison window. So remote from +the scene were his sympathies, that it affected him like a thin dream, +through the dim, extravagant material of which he could discern more +substantial objects, while too much under its control to start forth +broad awake. Just at that moment, too, there came another spectacle, +making its way right through the masquerading throng. + +It was, first and foremost, a full band of martial music, reverberating, +in that narrow and confined though stately avenue, between the walls of +the lofty palaces, and roaring upward to the sky with melody so powerful +that it almost grew to discord. Next came a body of cavalry and mounted +gendarmes, with great display of military pomp. They were escorting a +long train of equipages, each and all of which shone as gorgeously as +Cinderella's coach, with paint and gilding. Like that, too, they were +provided with coachmen of mighty breadth, and enormously tall footmen, +in immense powdered wigs, and all the splendor of gold-laced, three +cornered hats, and embroidered silk coats and breeches. By the +old-fashioned magnificence of this procession, it might worthily have +included his Holiness in person, with a suite of attendant Cardinals, +if those sacred dignitaries would kindly have lent their aid to heighten +the frolic of the Carnival. But, for all its show of a martial escort, +and its antique splendor of costume, it was but a train of the municipal +authorities of Rome,--illusive shadows, every one, and among them a +phantom, styled the Roman Senator,--proceeding to the Capitol. + +The riotous interchange of nosegays and confetti was partially +suspended, while the procession passed. One well-directed shot, +however,--it was a double handful of powdered lime, flung by an impious +New Englander,--hit the coachman of the Roman Senator full in the face, +and hurt his dignity amazingly. It appeared to be his opinion that the +Republic was again crumbling into ruin, and that the dust of it now +filled his nostrils; though, in fact, it would hardly be distinguished +from the official powder with which he was already plentifully bestrewn. + +While the sculptor, with his dreamy eyes, was taking idle note of this +trifling circumstance, two figures passed before him, hand in hand. The +countenance of each was covered with an impenetrable black mask; but one +seemed a peasant of the Campagna; the other, a contadina in her holiday +costume. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + + +A FROLIC OF THE CARNIVAL + + +The crowd and confusion, just at that moment, hindered the sculptor from +pursuing these figures,--the peasant and contadina,--who, indeed, were +but two of a numerous tribe that thronged the Corso, in similar costume. +As soon as he could squeeze a passage, Kenyon tried to follow in their +footsteps, but quickly lost sight of them, and was thrown off the track +by stopping to examine various groups of masqueraders, in which he +fancied the objects of his search to be included. He found many a sallow +peasant or herdsman of the Campagna, in such a dress as Donatello +wore; many a contadina, too, brown, broad, and sturdy, in her finery +of scarlet, and decked out with gold or coral beads, a pair of heavy +earrings, a curiously wrought cameo or mosaic brooch, and a silver comb +or long stiletto among her glossy hair. But those shapes of grace and +beauty which he sought had vanished. + +As soon as the procession of the Senator had passed, the merry-makers +resumed their antics with fresh spirit, and the artillery of bouquets +and sugar plums, suspended for a moment, began anew. The sculptor +himself, being probably the most anxious and unquiet spectator there, +was especially a mark for missiles from all quarters, and for the +practical jokes which the license of the Carnival permits. In fact, +his sad and contracted brow so ill accorded with the scene, that the +revellers might be pardoned for thus using him as the butt of their idle +mirth, since he evidently could not otherwise contribute to it. + +Fantastic figures, with bulbous heads, the circumference of a bushel, +grinned enormously in his face. Harlequins struck him with their wooden +swords, and appeared to expect his immediate transformation into some +jollier shape. A little, long-tailed, horned fiend sidled up to him and +suddenly blew at him through a tube, enveloping our poor friend in a +whole harvest of winged seeds. A biped, with an ass's snout, brayed +close to his ear, ending his discordant uproar with a peal of human +laughter. Five strapping damsels--so, at least, their petticoats bespoke +them, in spite of an awful freedom in the flourish of their legs--joined +hands, and danced around him, inviting him by their gestures to perform +a hornpipe in the midst. Released from these gay persecutors, a clown in +motley rapped him on the back with a blown bladder, in which a handful +of dried peas rattled horribly. + +Unquestionably, a care-stricken mortal has no business abroad, when +the rest of mankind are at high carnival; they must either pelt him +and absolutely martyr him with jests, and finally bury him beneath the +aggregate heap; or else the potency of his darker mood, because the +tissue of human life takes a sad dye more readily than a gay one, will +quell their holiday humors, like the aspect of a death's-head at a +banquet. Only that we know Kenyon's errand, we could hardly forgive him +for venturing into the Corso with that troubled face. + +Even yet, his merry martyrdom was not half over. There came along a +gigantic female figure, seven feet high, at least, and taking up a third +of the street's breadth with the preposterously swelling sphere of +her crinoline skirts. Singling out the sculptor, she began to make a +ponderous assault upon his heart, throwing amorous glances at him out +of her great goggle eyes, offering him a vast bouquet of sunflowers and +nettles, and soliciting his pity by all sorts of pathetic and passionate +dumb-show. Her suit meeting no favor, the rejected Titaness made a +gesture of despair and rage; then suddenly drawing a huge pistol, +she took aim right at the obdurate sculptor's breast, and pulled the +trigger. The shot took effect, for the abominable plaything went off +by a spring, like a boy's popgun, covering Kenyon with a cloud of lime +dust, under shelter of which the revengeful damsel strode away. + +Hereupon, a whole host of absurd figures surrounded him, pretending +to sympathize in his mishap. Clowns and party-colored harlequins; +orang-outangs; bear-headed, bull-headed, and dog-headed individuals; +faces that would have been human, but for their enormous noses; one +terrific creature, with a visage right in the centre of his breast; +and all other imaginable kinds of monstrosity and exaggeration. These +apparitions appeared to be investigating the case, after the fashion +of a coroner's jury, poking their pasteboard countenances close to the +sculptor's with an unchangeable grin, that gave still more ludicrous +effect to the comic alarm and sorrow of their gestures. Just then, a +figure came by, in a gray wig and rusty gown, with an inkhorn at his +buttonhole and a pen behind his ear; he announced himself as a notary, +and offered to make the last will and testament of the assassinated man. +This solemn duty, however, was interrupted by a surgeon, who brandished +a lancet, three feet long, and proposed to him to let him take blood. + +The affair was so like a feverish dream, that Kenyon resigned himself to +let it take its course. Fortunately the humors of the Carnival pass from +one absurdity to another, without lingering long enough on any, to wear +out even the slightest of them. The passiveness of his demeanor afforded +too little scope for such broad merriment as the masqueraders sought. In +a few moments they vanished from him, as dreams and spectres do, leaving +him at liberty to pursue his quest, with no impediment except the crowd +that blocked up the footway. + +He had not gone far when the peasant and the contadina met him. They +were still hand in hand, and appeared to be straying through the +grotesque and animated scene, taking as little part in it as himself. It +might be because he recognized them, and knew their solemn secret, that +the sculptor fancied a melancholy emotion to be expressed by the very +movement and attitudes of these two figures; and even the grasp of their +hands, uniting them so closely, seemed to set them in a sad remoteness +from the world at which they gazed. + +"I rejoice to meet you," said Kenyon. But they looked at him through the +eye-holes of their black masks, without answering a word. + +"Pray give me a little light on the matter which I have so much at +heart," said he; "if you know anything of Hilda, for Heaven's sake, +speak!" + +Still they were silent; and the sculptor began to imagine that he +must have mistaken the identity of these figures, there being such a +multitude in similar costume. Yet there was no other Donatello, no other +Miriam. He felt, too, that spiritual certainty which impresses us with +the presence of our friends, apart from any testimony of the senses. + +"You are unkind," resumed he,--"knowing the anxiety which oppresses me, +--not to relieve it, if in your power." + +The reproach evidently had its effect; for the contadina now spoke, and +it was Miriam's voice. + +"We gave you all the light we could," said she. "You are yourself +unkind, though you little think how much so, to come between us at this +hour. There may be a sacred hour, even in carnival time." + +In another state of mind, Kenyon could have been amused by the +impulsiveness of this response, and a sort of vivacity that he had +often noted in Miriam's conversation. But he was conscious of a profound +sadness in her tone, overpowering its momentary irritation, and assuring +him that a pale, tear-stained face was hidden behind her mask. + +"Forgive me!" said he. + +Donatello here extended his hand,--not that which was clasping +Miriam's,--and she, too, put her free one into the sculptor's left; so +that they were a linked circle of three, with many reminiscences and +forebodings flashing through their hearts. Kenyon knew intuitively that +these once familiar friends were parting with him now. + +"Farewell!" they all three said, in the same breath. + +No sooner was the word spoken, than they loosed their hands; and the +uproar of the Carnival swept like a tempestuous sea over the spot which +they had included within their small circle of isolated feeling. + +By this interview, the sculptor had learned nothing in reference to +Hilda; but he understood that he was to adhere to the instructions +already received, and await a solution of the mystery in some mode +that he could not yet anticipate. Passing his hands over his eyes, and +looking about him,--for the event just described had made the scene even +more dreamlike than before,--he now found himself approaching that broad +piazza bordering on the Corso, which has for its central object the +sculptured column of Antoninus. It was not far from this vicinity +that Miriam had bid him wait. Struggling onward as fast as the tide of +merrymakers, setting strong against him, would permit, he was now beyond +the Palazzo Colonna, and began to count the houses. The fifth was a +palace, with a long front upon the Corso, and of stately height, but +somewhat grim with age. + +Over its arched and pillared entrance there was a balcony, richly hung +with tapestry and damask, and tenanted, for the time, by a gentleman of +venerable aspect and a group of ladies. The white hair and whiskers of +the former, and the winter roses in his cheeks, had an English look; the +ladies, too, showed a fair-haired Saxon bloom, and seemed to taste the +mirth of the Carnival with the freshness of spectators to whom the scene +was new. All the party, the old gentleman with grave earnestness, as if +he were defending a rampart, and his young companions with exuberance of +frolic, showered confetti inexhaustibly upon the passers-by. + +In the rear of the balcony, a broad-brimmed, ecclesiastical beaver was +visible. An abbate, probably an acquaintance and cicerone of the English +family, was sitting there, and enjoying the scene, though partially +withdrawn from view, as the decorum for his order dictated. + +There seemed no better nor other course for Kenyon than to keep watch at +this appointed spot, waiting for whatever should happen next. Clasping +his arm round a lamp-post, to prevent being carried away by the +turbulent stream of wayfarers, he scrutinized every face, with the idea +that some one of them might meet his eyes with a glance of intelligence. +He looked at each mask,--harlequin, ape, bulbous-headed monster, or +anything that was absurdest,--not knowing but that the messenger might +come, even in such fantastic guise. Or perhaps one of those quaint +figures, in the stately ruff, the cloak, tunic, and trunk-hose of three +centuries ago, might bring him tidings of Hilda, out of that long-past +age. At times his disquietude took a hopeful aspect; and he fancied that +Hilda might come by, her own sweet self, in some shy disguise which the +instinct Of his love would be sure to penetrate. Or, she might be +borne past on a triumphal car, like the one just now approaching, its +slow-moving wheels encircled and spoked with foliage, and drawn by +horses, that were harnessed and wreathed with flowers. Being, at best, +so far beyond the bounds of reasonable conjecture, he might anticipate +the wildest event, or find either his hopes or fears disappointed in +what appeared most probable. + +The old Englishman and his daughters, in the opposite balcony, must have +seen something unutterably absurd in the sculptor's deportment, poring +into this whirlpool of nonsense so earnestly, in quest of what was to +make his life dark or bright. Earnest people, who try to get a reality +out of human existence, are necessarily absurd in the view of the +revellers and masqueraders. At all events, after a good deal of mirth at +the expense of his melancholy visage, the fair occupants of the balcony +favored Kenyon with a salvo of confetti, which came rattling about him +like a hailstorm. Looking up instinctively, he was surprised to see +the abbate in the background lean forward and give a courteous sign of +recognition. + +It was the same old priest with whom he had seen Hilda, at the +confessional; the same with whom he had talked of her disappearance on +meeting him in the street. + +Yet, whatever might be the reason, Kenyon did not now associate this +ecclesiastical personage with the idea of Hilda. His eyes lighted on the +old man, just for an instant, and then returned to the eddying throng of +the Corso, on his minute scrutiny of which depended, for aught he knew, +the sole chance of ever finding any trace of her. There was, about this +moment, a bustle on the other side of the street, the cause of which +Kenyon did not see, nor exert himself to discover. A small party of +soldiers or gendarmes appeared to be concerned in it; they were perhaps +arresting some disorderly character, who, under the influence of an +extra flask of wine, might have reeled across the mystic limitation of +carnival proprieties. + +The sculptor heard some people near him talking of the incident. + +"That contadina, in a black mask, was a fine figure of a woman." + +"She was not amiss," replied a female voice; "but her companion was far +the handsomer figure of the two. Could they be really a peasant and a +contadina, do you imagine?" + +"No, no," said the other. "It is some frolic of the Carnival, carried a +little too far." + +This conversation might have excited Kenyon's interest; only that, just +as the last words were spoken, he was hit by two missiles, both of a +kind that were flying abundantly on that gay battlefield. One, we are +ashamed to say, was a cauliflower, which, flung by a young man from a +passing carriage, came with a prodigious thump against his shoulder; +the other was a single rosebud, so fresh that it seemed that moment +gathered. It flew from the opposite balcony, smote gently on his lips, +and fell into his hand. He looked upward, and beheld the face of his +lost Hilda! + +She was dressed in a white domino, and looked pale and bewildered, +and yet full of tender joy. Moreover, there was a gleam of delicate +mirthfulness in her eyes, which the sculptor had seen there only two or +three times in the course of their acquaintance, but thought it the most +bewitching and fairylike of all Hilda's expressions. That soft, mirthful +smile caused her to melt, as it were, into the wild frolic of the +Carnival, and become not so strange and alien to the scene, as her +unexpected apparition must otherwise have made her. + +Meanwhile, the venerable Englishman and his daughters were staring at +poor Hilda in a way that proved them altogether astonished, as well +as inexpressibly shocked, by her sudden intrusion into their private +balcony. They looked,--as, indeed, English people of respectability +would, if an angel were to alight in their circle, without due +introduction from somebody whom they knew, in the court above,--they +looked as if an unpardonable liberty had been taken, and a suitable +apology must be made; after which, the intruder would be expected to +withdraw. + +The abbate, however, drew the old gentleman aside, and whispered a few +words that served to mollify him; he bestowed on Hilda a sufficiently +benignant, though still a perplexed and questioning regard, and invited +her, in dumb-show, to put herself at her ease. + +But, whoever was in fault, our shy and gentle Hilda had dreamed of no +intrusion. Whence she had come, or where she had been hidden, during +this mysterious interval, we can but imperfectly surmise, and do not +mean, at present, to make it a matter of formal explanation with the +reader. It is better, perhaps, to fancy that she had been snatched away +to a land of picture; that she had been straying with Claude in the +golden light which he used to shed over his landscapes, but which he +could never have beheld with his waking eyes till he awoke in the better +clime. We will imagine that, for the sake of the true simplicity +with which she loved them, Hilda had been permitted, for a season, to +converse with the great, departed masters of the pencil, and behold +the diviner works which they have painted in heavenly colors. Guido had +shown her another portrait of Beatrice Cenci, done from the celestial +life, in which that forlorn mystery of the earthly countenance was +exchanged for a radiant joy. Perugino had allowed her a glimpse at his +easel, on which she discerned what seemed a woman's face, but so divine, +by the very depth and softness of its womanhood, that a gush of happy +tears blinded the maiden's eyes before she had time to look. Raphael +had taken Hilda by the hand, that fine, forcible hand which Kenyon +sculptured,--and drawn aside the curtain of gold-fringed cloud that +hung before his latest masterpiece. On earth, Raphael painted the +Transfiguration. What higher scene may he have since depicted, not from +imagination, but as revealed to his actual sight! + +Neither will we retrace the steps by which she returned to the actual +world. For the present, be it enough to say that Hilda had been summoned +forth from a secret place, and led we know not through what mysterious +passages, to a point where the tumult of life burst suddenly upon her +ears. She heard the tramp of footsteps, the rattle of wheels, and the +mingled hum of a multitude of voices, with strains of music and loud +laughter breaking through. Emerging into a great, gloomy hall, a +curtain was drawn aside; she found herself gently propelled into an +open balcony, whence she looked out upon the festal street, with gay +tapestries flaunting over all the palace fronts, the windows thronged +with merry faces, and a crowd of maskers rioting upon the pavement +below. + +Immediately she seemed to become a portion of the scene. Her pale, +large-eyed, fragile beauty, her wondering aspect and bewildered grace, +attracted the gaze of many; and there fell around her a shower of +bouquets and bonbons--freshest blossoms and sweetest sugar plums, sweets +to the sweet--such as the revellers of the Carnival reserve as tributes +to especial loveliness. Hilda pressed her hand across her brow; she let +her eyelids fall, and, lifting them again, looked through the grotesque +and gorgeous show, the chaos of mad jollity, in quest of some object +by which she might assure herself that the whole spectacle was not an +illusion. + +Beneath the balcony, she recognized a familiar and fondly remembered +face. The spirit of the hour and the scene exercised its influence over +her quick and sensitive nature; she caught up one of the rosebuds that +had been showered upon her, and aimed it at the sculptor; It hit the +mark; he turned his sad eyes upward, and there was Hilda, in whose +gentle presence his own secret sorrow and the obtrusive uproar of the +Carnival alike died away from his perception. + +That night, the lamp beneath the Virgin's shrine burned as brightly as +if it had never been extinguished; and though the one faithful dove had +gone to her melancholy perch, she greeted Hilda rapturously the next +morning, and summoned her less constant companions, whithersoever they +had flown, to renew their homage. + + + + + +CHAPTER L + + +MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + + +The gentle reader, we trust, would not thank us for one of those minute +elucidations, which are so tedious, and, after all, so unsatisfactory, +in clearing up the romantic mysteries of a story. He is too wise to +insist upon looking closely at the wrong side of the tapestry, after the +right one has been sufficiently displayed to him, woven with the best of +the artist's skill, and cunningly arranged with a view to the harmonious +exhibition of its colors. If any brilliant, or beautiful, or even +tolerable effect have been produced, this pattern of kindly readers will +accept it at its worth, without tearing its web apart, with the idle +purpose of discovering how the threads have been knit together; for the +sagacity by which he is distinguished will long ago have taught him that +any narrative of human action and adventure whether we call it history +or romance--is certain to be a fragile handiwork, more easily rent than +mended. The actual experience of even the most ordinary life is full of +events that never explain themselves, either as regards their origin or +their tendency. + +It would be easy, from conversations which we have held with the +sculptor, to suggest a clew to the mystery of Hilda's disappearance; +although, as long as she remained in Italy, there was a remarkable +reserve in her communications upon this subject, even to her most +intimate friends. Either a pledge of secrecy had been exacted, or a +prudential motive warned her not to reveal the stratagems of a religious +body, or the secret acts of a despotic government--whichever might be +responsible in the present instance--while still within the scope of +their jurisdiction. Possibly, she might not herself be fully aware what +power had laid its grasp upon her person. What has chiefly perplexed us, +however, among Hilda's adventures, is the mode of her release, in which +some inscrutable tyranny or other seemed to take part in the frolic of +the Carnival. We can only account for it, by supposing that the fitful +and fantastic imagination of a woman--sportive, because she must +otherwise be desperate--had arranged this incident, and made it the +condition of a step which her conscience, or the conscience of another, +required her to take. + +A few days after Hilda's reappearance, she and the sculptor were +straying together through the streets of Rome. Being deep in talk, it so +happened that they found themselves near the majestic, pillared portico, +and huge, black rotundity of the Pantheon. It stands almost at the +central point of the labyrinthine intricacies of the modern city, and +often presents itself before the bewildered stranger, when he is in +search of other objects. Hilda, looking up, proposed that they should +enter. + +"I never pass it without going in," she said, "to pay my homage at the +tomb of Raphael." + +"Nor I," said Kenyon, "without stopping to admire the noblest edifice +which the barbarism of the early ages, and the more barbarous pontiffs +and princes of later ones, have spared to us." + +They went in accordingly, and stood in the free space of that great +circle, around which are ranged the arched recesses and stately altars, +formerly dedicated to heathen gods, but Christianized through twelve +centuries gone by. The world has nothing else like the Pantheon. So +grand it is, that the pasteboard statues over the lofty cornice do not +disturb the effect, any more than the tin crowns and hearts, the dusty +artificial flowers, and all manner of trumpery gew-gaws, hanging at the +saintly shrines. The rust and dinginess that have dimmed the precious +marble on the walls; the pavement, with its great squares and rounds +of porphyry and granite, cracked crosswise and in a hundred directions, +showing how roughly the troublesome ages have trampled here; the gray +dome above, with its opening to the sky, as if heaven were looking down +into the interior of this place of worship, left unimpeded for prayers +to ascend the more freely; all these things make an impression of +solemnity, which St. Peter's itself fails to produce. + +"I think," said the sculptor, "it is to the aperture in the dome--that +great Eye, gazing heavenward that the Pantheon owes the peculiarity of +its effect. It is so heathenish, as it were,--so unlike all the snugness +of our modern civilization! Look, too, at the pavement, directly beneath +the open space! So much rain has fallen there, in the last two thousand +years, that it is green with small, fine moss, such as grows over +tombstones in a damp English churchyard." + +"I like better," replied Hilda, "to look at the bright, blue sky, +roofing the edifice where the builders left it open. It is very +delightful, in a breezy day, to see the masses of white cloud float over +the opening, and then the sunshine fall through it again, fitfully, as +it does now. Would it be any wonder if we were to see angels hovering +there, partly in and partly out, with genial, heavenly faces, not +intercepting the light, but only transmuting it into beautiful colors? +Look at that broad, golden beam--a sloping cataract of sunlight--which +comes down from the aperture and rests upon the shrine, at the right +hand of the entrance!" + +"There is a dusky picture over that altar," observed the sculptor. "Let +us go and see if this strong illumination brings out any merit in it." + +Approaching the shrine, they found the picture little worth looking at, +but could not forbear smiling, to see that a very plump and comfortable +tabby-cat--whom we ourselves have often observed haunting the +Pantheon--had established herself on the altar, in the genial sunbeam, +and was fast asleep among the holy tapers. Their footsteps disturbing +her, she awoke, raised herself, and sat blinking in the sun, yet with a +certain dignity and self-possession, as if conscious of representing a +saint. + +"I presume," remarked Kenyon, "that this is the first of the feline race +that has ever set herself up as an object of worship, in the Pantheon or +elsewhere, since the days of ancient Egypt. See; there is a peasant from +the neighboring market, actually kneeling to her! She seems a gracious +and benignant saint enough." + +"Do not make me laugh," said Hilda reproachfully, "but help me to drive +the creature away. It distresses me to see that poor man, or any human +being, directing his prayers so much amiss." + +"Then, Hilda," answered the sculptor more seriously, "the only Place +in the Pantheon for you and me to kneel is on the pavement beneath +the central aperture. If we pray at a saint's shrine, we shall give +utterance to earthly wishes; but if we pray face to face with the +Deity, we shall feel it impious to petition for aught that is narrow and +selfish. Methinks it is this that makes the Catholics so delight in the +worship of saints; they can bring up all their little worldly wants and +whims, their individualities and human weaknesses, not as things to be +repented of, but to be humored by the canonized humanity to which they +pray. Indeed, it is very tempting!" + +What Hilda might have answered must be left to conjecture; for as she +turned from the shrine, her eyes were attracted to the figure of a +female penitent, kneeling on the pavement just beneath the great central +eye, in the very spot which Kenyon had designated as the only one whence +prayers should ascend. The upturned face was invisible, behind a veil or +mask, which formed a part of the garb. + +"It cannot be!" whispered Hilda, with emotion. "No; it cannot be!" + +"What disturbs you?" asked Kenyon. "Why do you tremble so?" + +"If it were possible," she replied, "I should fancy that kneeling figure +to be Miriam!" + +"As you say, it is impossible," rejoined the sculptor; "We know too +well what has befallen both her and Donatello." "Yes; it is impossible!" +repeated Hilda. Her voice was still tremulous, however, and she seemed +unable to withdraw her attention from the kneeling figure. Suddenly, +and as if the idea of Miriam had opened the whole volume of Hilda's +reminiscences, she put this question to the sculptor: "Was Donatello +really a Faun?" + +"If you had ever studied the pedigree of the far-descended heir of Monte +Beni, as I did," answered Kenyon, with an irrepressible smile, "you +would have retained few doubts on that point. Faun or not, he had a +genial nature, which, had the rest of mankind been in accordance with +it, would have made earth a paradise to our poor friend. It seems +the moral of his story, that human beings of Donatello's character, +compounded especially for happiness, have no longer any business on +earth, or elsewhere. Life has grown so sadly serious, that such men must +change their nature, or else perish, like the antediluvian creatures +that required, as the condition of their existence, a more summer-like +atmosphere than ours." + +"I will not accept your moral!" replied the hopeful and happy-natured +Hilda. + +"Then here is another; take your choice!" said the sculptor, remembering +what Miriam had recently suggested, in reference to the same point. "He +perpetrated a great crime; and his remorse, gnawing into his soul, +has awakened it; developing a thousand high capabilities, moral and +intellectual, which we never should have dreamed of asking for, within +the scanty compass of the Donatello whom we knew." + +"I know not whether this is so," said Hilda. "But what then?" + +"Here comes my perplexity," continued Kenyon. "Sin has educated +Donatello, and elevated him. Is sin, then,--which we deem such a +dreadful blackness in the universe,--is it, like sorrow, merely an +element of human education, through which we struggle to a higher and +purer state than we could otherwise have attained? Did Adam fall, that +we might ultimately rise to a far loftier paradise than his?" "O hush!" +cried Hilda, shrinking from him with an expression of horror which +wounded the poor, speculative sculptor to the soul. "This is terrible; +and I could weep for you, if you indeed believe it. Do not you perceive +what a mockery your creed makes, not only of all religious sentiments, +but of moral law? And how it annuls and obliterates whatever precepts of +Heaven are written deepest within us? You have shocked me beyond words!" + +"Forgive me, Hilda!" exclaimed the sculptor, startled by her agitation; +"I never did believe it! But the mind wanders wild and wide; and, so +lonely as I live and work, I have neither pole-star above nor light +of cottage windows here below, to bring me home. Were you my guide, my +counsellor, my inmost friend, with that white wisdom which clothes you +as a celestial garment, all would go well. O Hilda, guide me home!" + +"We are both lonely; both far from home!" said Hilda, her eyes filling +with tears. "I am a poor, weak girl, and have no such wisdom as you +fancy in me." + +What further may have passed between these lovers, while standing before +the pillared shrine, and the marble Madonna that marks Raphael's tomb; +whither they had now wandered, we are unable to record. But when the +kneeling figure beneath the open eye of the Pantheon arose, she looked +towards the pair and extended her hands with a gesture of benediction. +Then they knew that it was Miriam. They suffered her to glide out of +the portal, however, without a greeting; for those extended hands, even +while they blessed, seemed to repel, as if Miriam stood on the other +side of a fathomless abyss, and warned them from its verge. + +So Kenyon won the gentle Hilda's shy affection, and her consent to +be his bride. Another hand must henceforth trim the lamp before the +Virgin's shrine; for Hilda was coming down from her old tower, to be +herself enshrined and worshipped as a household saint, in the light of +her husband's fireside. And, now that life had so much human promise in +it, they resolved to go back to their own land; because the years, +after all, have a kind of emptiness, when we spend too many of them on +a foreign shore. We defer the reality of life, in such cases, until a +future moment, when we shall again breathe our native air; but, by and +by, there are no future moments; or, if we do return, we find that the +native air has lost its invigorating quality, and that life has shifted +its reality to the spot where we have deemed ourselves only temporary +residents. Thus, between two countries, we have none at all, or +only that little space of either in which we finally lay down our +discontented bones. It is wise, therefore, to come back betimes, or +never. + +Before they quitted Rome, a bridal gift was laid on Hilda's table. It +was a bracelet, evidently of great cost, being composed of seven ancient +Etruscan gems, dug out of seven sepulchres, and each one of them the +signet of some princely personage, who had lived an immemorial time ago. +Hilda remembered this precious ornament. It had been Miriam's; and once, +with the exuberance of fancy that distinguished her, she had amused +herself with telling a mythical and magic legend for each gem, +comprising the imaginary adventures and catastrophe of its former +wearer. Thus the Etruscan bracelet became the connecting bond of a +series of seven wondrous tales, all of which, as they were dug out of +seven sepulchres, were characterized by a sevenfold sepulchral gloom; +such as Miriam's imagination, shadowed by her own misfortunes, was wont +to fling over its most sportive flights. + +And now, happy as Hilda was, the bracelet brought the tears into her +eyes, as being, in its entire circle, the symbol of as sad a mystery +as any that Miriam had attached to the separate gems. For, what was +Miriam's life to be? And where was Donatello? But Hilda had a hopeful +soul, and saw sunlight on the mountain-tops. + + + + + +CONCLUSION + +There comes to the author, from many readers of the foregoing pages, a +demand for further elucidations respecting the mysteries of the story. + +He reluctantly avails himself of the opportunity afforded by a new +edition, to explain such incidents and passages as may have been left +too much in the dark; reluctantly, he repeats, because the necessity +makes him sensible that he can have succeeded but imperfectly, at best, +in throwing about this Romance the kind of atmosphere essential to the +effect at which he aimed. + +He designed the story and the characters to bear, of course, a certain +relation to human nature and human life, but still to be so artfully and +airily removed from our mundane sphere, that some laws and proprieties +of their own should be implicitly and insensibly acknowledged. + +The idea of the modern Faun, for example, loses all the poetry and +beauty which the Author fancied in it, and becomes nothing better than a +grotesque absurdity, if we bring it into the actual light of day. He +had hoped to mystify this anomalous creature between the Real and +the Fantastic, in such a manner that the reader's sympathies might be +excited to a certain pleasurable degree, without impelling him to ask +how Cuvier would have classified poor Donatello, or to insist upon being +told, in so many words, whether he had furry ears or no. As respects all +who ask such questions, the book is, to that extent, a failure. + +Nevertheless, the Author fortunately has it in his power to throw light +upon several matters in which some of his readers appear to feel an +interest. To confess the truth, he was himself troubled with a curiosity +similar to that which he has just deprecated on the part of his readers, +and once took occasion to cross-examine his friends, Hilda and the +sculptor, and to pry into several dark recesses of the story, with which +they had heretofore imperfectly acquainted him. + +We three had climbed to the top of St. Peter's, and were looking down +upon the Rome we were soon to leave, but which (having already sinned +sufficiently in that way) it is not my purpose further to describe. It +occurred to me, that, being so remote in the upper air, my friends might +safely utter here the secrets which it would be perilous even to whisper +on lower earth. + +"Hilda," I began, "can you tell me the contents of that mysterious +packet which Miriam entrusted to your charge, and which was addressed to +Signore Luca Barboni, at the Palazzo Cenci?" + +"I never had any further knowledge of it," replied Hilda, "nor felt it +right to let myself be curious upon the subject." + +"As to its precise contents," interposed Kenyon, "it is impossible to +speak. But Miriam, isolated as she seemed, had family connections in +Rome, one of whom, there is reason to believe, occupied a position in +the papal government. + +"This Signore Luca Barboni was either the assumed name of the personage +in question, or the medium of communication between that individual and +Miriam. Now, under such a government as that of Rome, it is obvious that +Miriam's privacy and isolated life could only be maintained through the +connivance and support of some influential person connected with the +administration of affairs. Free and self-controlled as she appeared, her +every movement was watched and investigated far more thoroughly by the +priestly rulers than by her dearest friends. + +"Miriam, if I mistake not, had a purpose to withdraw herself from this +irksome scrutiny, and to seek real obscurity in another land; and the +packet, to be delivered long after her departure, contained a reference +to this design, besides certain family documents, which were to be +imparted to her relative as from one dead and gone." + +"Yes, it is clear as a London fog," I remarked. "On this head no further +elucidation can be desired. But when Hilda went quietly to deliver the +packet, why did she so mysteriously vanish?" + +"You must recollect," replied Kenyon, with a glance of friendly +commiseration at my obtuseness, "that Miriam had utterly disappeared, +leaving no trace by which her whereabouts could be known. In the +meantime, the municipal authorities had become aware of the murder +of the Capuchin; and from many preceding circumstances, such as his +persecution of Miriam, they must have seen an obvious connection between +herself and that tragical event. Furthermore, there is reason to believe +that Miriam was suspected of connection with some plot, or political +intrigue, of which there may have been tokens in the packet. And when +Hilda appeared as the bearer of this missive, it was really quite +a matter of course, under a despotic government, that she should be +detained." + +"Ah, quite a matter of course, as you say," answered I. "How excessively +stupid in me not to have seen it sooner! But there are other riddles. +On the night of the extinction of the lamp, you met Donatello, in a +penitent's garb, and afterwards saw and spoke to Miriam, in a coach, +with a gem glowing on her bosom. What was the business of these two +guilty ones in Rome, and who was Miriam's companion?" + +"Who!" repeated Kenyon, "why, her official relative, to be sure; and +as to their business, Donatello's still gnawing remorse had brought him +hitherward, in spite of Miriam's entreaties, and kept him lingering +in the neighborhood of Rome, with the ultimate purpose of delivering +himself up to justice. Hilda's disappearance, which took place the day +before, was known to them through a secret channel, and had brought them +into the city, where Miriam, as I surmise, began to make arrangements, +even then, for that sad frolic of the Carnival." + +"And where was Hilda all that dreary time between?" inquired I. + +"Where were you, Hilda?" asked Kenyon, smiling. + +Hilda threw her eyes on all sides, and seeing that there was not even a +bird of the air to fly away with the secret, nor any human being nearer +than the loiterers by the obelisk in the piazza below, she told us about +her mysterious abode. + +"I was a prisoner in the Convent of the Sacre Coeur, in the Trinita +de Monte," said she, "but in such kindly custody of pious maidens, and +watched over by such a dear old priest, that--had it not been for one +or two disturbing recollections, and also because I am a daughter of the +Puritans I could willingly have dwelt there forever. + +"My entanglement with Miriam's misfortunes, and the good abbate's +mistaken hope of a proselyte, seem to me a sufficient clew to the whole +mystery." + +"The atmosphere is getting delightfully lucid," observed I, "but there +are one or two things that still puzzle me. Could you tell me--and it +shall be kept a profound secret, I assure you what were Miriam's real +name and rank, and precisely the nature of the troubles that led to all +those direful consequences?" + +"Is it possible that you need an answer to those questions?" exclaimed +Kenyon, with an aspect of vast surprise. "Have you not even surmised +Miriam's name? Think awhile, and you will assuredly remember it. If not, +I congratulate you most sincerely; for it indicates that your feelings +have never been harrowed by one of the most dreadful and mysterious +events that have occurred within the present century!" + +"Well," resumed I, after an interval of deep consideration, "I have but +few things more to ask. Where, at this moment, is Donatello?" + +"The Castle of Saint Angelo," said Kenyon sadly, turning his face +towards that sepulchral fortress, "is no longer a prison; but there are +others which have dungeons as deep, and in one of them, I fear, lies our +poor Faun." + +"And why, then, is Miriam at large?" I asked. + +"Call it cruelty if you like, not mercy," answered Kenyon. "But, after +all, her crime lay merely in a glance. She did no murder!" + +"Only one question more," said I, with intense earnestness. "Did +Donatello's ears resemble those of the Faun of Praxiteles?" + +"I know, but may not tell," replied Kenyon, smiling mysteriously. "On +that point, at all events, there shall be not one word of explanation." + +Leamington, March 14, 1860. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Marble Faun, Volume II., by Nathaniel Hawthorne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARBLE FAUN, VOLUME II. *** + +***** This file should be named 2182.txt or 2182.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/8/2182/ + +Produced by Michael Pullen and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by Michael Pullen, globaltraveler5565@yahoo.com. + + + + + +THE MARBLE FAUN, VOL. II +or The Romance of Monte Beni + +BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE + +IN TWO VOLUMES + + + + +Table of Contents + +Volume I + +I MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO +II THE FAUN +III SUBTERRANEAN REMINISCENCES +IV THE SPECTRE OF THE CATACOMB +V MIRIAM'S STUDIO +VI THE VIRGIN'S SHRINE +VII BEATRICE +VIII THE SUBURBAN VILLA +IX THE FAUN AND NYMPH +X THE SYLVAN DANCE +XI FRAGMENTARY SENTENCES +XII A STROLL ON THE PINCIAN +XIII A SCULPTOR'S STUDIO +XIV CLEOPATRA +XV AN AESTHETIC COMPANY +XVI A MOONLIGHT RAMBLE +XVII MIRIAM'S TROUBLE +XVIII ON THE EDGE OF A PRECIPICE +XIX THE FAUN'S TRANSFORMATION +XX THE BURIAL CHANT +XXI THE DEAD CAPUCHIN +XXII THE MEDICI GARDENS +XXIII MIRIAM AND HILDA + + +Volume II + +XXIV THE TOWER AMONG THE APENNINES +XXV SUNSHINE +XXVI THE PEDIGREE OF MONTE BENI +XXVII MYTHS +XXVIII THE OWL TOWER +XXIX ON THE BATTLEMENTS +XXX DONATELLO'S BUST +XXXI THE MARBLE SALOON +XXXII SCENES BY THE WAY +XXXIII PICTURED WINDOWS +XXXIV MARKET-DAY IN PERUGIA +XXXV THE BRONZE PONTIFF'S BENEDICTION +XXXVI HILDA'S TOWER +XXXVII THE EMPTINESS OF PICTURE GALLERIES +XXXVIII ALTARS AND INCENSE +XXXIX THE WORLD'S CATHEDRAL +XL HILDA AND A FRIEND +XLI SNOWDROPS AND MAIDENLY DELIGHTS +XLII REMINISCENCES OF MIRIAM +XLIII THE EXTINCTION OF A LAMP +XLIV THE DESERTED SHRINE +XLV THE FLIGHT OF HILDA'S DOVES +XLVI A WALK ON THE CAMPAGNA +XLVII THE PEASANT AND CONTADINA +XLVIII A SCENE IN THE CORSO +XLIX A FROLIC OF THE CARNIVAL +L MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + + + + + +THE MARBLE FAUN + +Volume II + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +THE TOWER AMONG THE APENNINES + + +It was in June that the sculptor, Kenyon, arrived on horseback at the +gate of an ancient country house (which, from some of its features, +might almost be called a castle) situated in a part of Tuscany +somewhat remote from the ordinary track of tourists. Thither we must +now accompany him, and endeavor to make our story flow onward, like a +streamlet, past a gray tower that rises on the hillside, overlooking a +spacious valley, which is set in the grand framework of the Apennines. + +The sculptor had left Rome with the retreating tide of foreign +residents. For, as summer approaches, the Niobe of Nations is made to +bewail anew, and doubtless with sincerity, the loss of that large part +of her population which she derives from other lands, and on whom +depends much of whatever remnant of prosperity she still enjoys. Rome, +at this season, is pervaded and overhung with atmospheric terrors, +and insulated within a charmed and deadly circle. The crowd of +wandering tourists betake themselves to Switzerland, to the Rhine, or, +from this central home of the world, to their native homes in England +or America, which they are apt thenceforward to look upon as +provincial, after once having yielded to the spell of the Eternal City. +The artist, who contemplates an indefinite succession of winters in +this home of art (though his first thought was merely to improve +himself by a brief visit), goes forth, in the summer time, to sketch +scenery and costume among the Tuscan hills, and pour, if he can, the +purple air of Italy over his canvas. He studies the old schools of +art in the mountain towns where they were born, and where they are +still to be seen in the faded frescos of Giotto and Cimabue, on the +walls of many a church, or in the dark chapels, in which the sacristan +draws aside the veil from a treasured picture of Perugino. Thence, +the happy painter goes to walk the long, bright galleries of Florence, +or to steal glowing colors from the miraculous works, which he finds +in a score of Venetian palaces. Such summers as these, spent amid +whatever is exquisite in art, or wild and picturesque in nature, may +not inadequately repay him for the chill neglect and disappointment +through which he has probably languished, in his Roman winter. This +sunny, shadowy, breezy, wandering life, in which he seeks for beauty +as his treasure, and gathers for his winter's honey what is but a +passing fragrance to all other men, is worth living for, come +afterwards what may. Even if he die unrecognized, the artist has had +his share of enjoyment and success. + +Kenyon had seen, at a distance of many miles, the old villa or castle +towards which his journey lay, looking from its height over a broad +expanse of valley. As he drew nearer, however, it had been hidden +among the inequalities of the hillside, until the winding road brought +him almost to the iron gateway. The sculptor found this substantial +barrier fastened with lock and bolt. There was no bell, nor other +instrument of sound; and, after summoning the invisible garrison with +his voice, instead of a trumpet, he had leisure to take a glance at +the exterior of the fortress. + +About thirty yards within the gateway rose a square tower, lofty +enough to be a very prominent object in the landscape, and more than +sufficiently massive in proportion to its height. Its antiquity was +evidently such that, in a climate of more abundant moisture, the ivy +would have mantled it from head to foot in a garment that might, by +this time, have been centuries old, though ever new. In the dry +Italian air, however, Nature had only so far adopted this old pile of +stonework as to cover almost every hand's-breadth of it with +close-clinging lichens and yellow moss; and the immemorial growth of +these kindly productions rendered the general hue of the tower soft +and venerable, and took away the aspect of nakedness which would have +made its age drearier than now. + +Up and down the height of the tower were scattered three or four +windows, the lower ones grated with iron bars, the upper ones vacant +both of window frames and glass. Besides these larger openings, there +were several loopholes and little square apertures, which might be +supposed to light the staircase, that doubtless climbed the interior +towards the battlemented and machicolated summit. With this +last-mentioned warlike garniture upon its stern old head and brow, the +tower seemed evidently a stronghold of times long past. Many a +crossbowman had shot his shafts from those windows and loop-holes, and +from the vantage height of those gray battlements; many a flight of +arrows, too, had hit all round about the embrasures above, or the +apertures below, where the helmet of a defender had momentarily +glimmered. On festal nights, moreover, a hundred lamps had often +gleamed afar over the valley, suspended from the iron hooks that were +ranged for the purpose beneath the battlements and every window. + +Connected with the tower, and extending behind it, there seemed to be +a very spacious residence, chiefly of more modern date. It perhaps +owed much of its fresher appearance, however, to a coat of stucco and +yellow wash, which is a sort of renovation very much in vogue with the +Italians. Kenyon noticed over a doorway, in the portion of the +edifice immediately adjacent to the tower, a cross, which, with a bell +suspended above the roof, indicated that this was a consecrated +precinct, and the chapel of the mansion. + +Meanwhile, the hot sun so incommoded the unsheltered traveller, that +he shouted forth another impatient summons. Happening, at the same +moment, to look upward, he saw a figure leaning from an embrasure of +the battlements, and gazing down at him. + +"Ho, Signore Count!" cried the sculptor, waving his straw hat, for he +recognized the face, after a moment's doubt. "This is a warm +reception, truly! Pray bid your porter let me in, before the sun +shrivels me quite into a cinder." + +"I will come myself," responded Donatello, flinging down his voice out +of the clouds, as it were; "old Tomaso and old Stella are both asleep, +no doubt, and the rest of the people are in the vineyard. But I have +expected you, and you are welcome!" + +The young Count--as perhaps we had better designate him in his +ancestral tower--vanished from the battlements; and Kenyon saw his +figure appear successively at each of the windows, as he descended. +On every reappearance, he turned his face towards the sculptor and +gave a nod and smile; for a kindly impulse prompted him thus to assure +his visitor of a welcome, after keeping him so long at an inhospitable +threshold. + +Kenyon, however (naturally and professionally expert at reading the +expression of the human countenance), had a vague sense that this was +not the young friend whom he had known so familiarly in Rome; not the +sylvan and untutored youth, whom Miriam, Hilda, and himself had liked, +laughed at, and sported with; not the Donatello whose identity they +had so playfully mixed up with that of the Faun of Praxiteles. + +Finally, when his host had emerged from a side portal of the mansion, +and approached the gateway, the traveller still felt that there was +something lost, or something gained (he hardly knew which), that set +the Donatello of to-day irreconcilably at odds with him of yesterday. +His very gait showed it, in a certain gravity, a weight and measure of +step, that had nothing in common with the irregular buoyancy which +used to distinguish him. His face was paler and thinner, and the lips +less full and less apart. + +"I have looked for you a long while," said Donatello; and, though his +voice sounded differently, and cut out its words more sharply than had +been its wont, still there was a smile shining on his face, that, for +the moment, quite brought back the Faun. "I shall be more cheerful, +perhaps, now that you have come. It is very solitary here." + +"I have come slowly along, often lingering, often turning aside," +replied Kenyon; "for I found a great deal to interest me in the +mediaeval sculpture hidden away in the churches hereabouts. An artist, +whether painter or sculptor, may be pardoned for loitering through +such a region. But what a fine old tower! Its tall front is like a +page of black letter, taken from the history of the Italian republics." + +"I know little or nothing of its history," said the Count, glancing +upward at the battlements, where he had just been standing. "But I +thank my forefathers for building it so high. I like the windy summit +better than the world below, and spend much of my time there, nowadays." + +"It is a pity you are not a star-gazer," observed Kenyon, also looking +up. "It is higher than Galileo's tower, which I saw, a week or two +ago, outside of the walls of Florence." + +"A star-gazer? I am one," replied Donatello. "I sleep in the tower, +and often watch very late on the battlements. There is a dismal old +staircase to climb, however, before reaching the top, and a succession +of dismal chambers, from story to story. Some of them were prison +chambers in times past, as old Tomaso will tell you." + +The repugnance intimated in his tone at the idea of this gloomy +staircase and these ghostly, dimly lighted rooms, reminded Kenyon of +the original Donatello, much more than his present custom of midnight +vigils on the battlements. + +"I shall be glad to share your watch," said the guest; "especially by +moonlight. The prospect of this broad valley must be very fine. But +I was not aware, my friend, that these were your country habits. I +have fancied you in a sort of Arcadian life, tasting rich figs, and +squeezing the juice out of the sunniest grapes, and sleeping soundly +all night, after a day of simple pleasures." + +"I may have known such a life, when I was younger," answered the Count +gravely. "I am not a boy now. Time flies over us, but leaves its +shadow behind." + +The sculptor could not but smile at the triteness of the remark, which, +nevertheless, had a kind of originality as coming from Donatello. He +had thought it out from his own experience, and perhaps considered +himself as communicating a new truth to mankind. + +They were now advancing up the courtyard; and the long extent of the +villa, with its ironbarred lower windows and balconied upper ones, +became visible, stretching back towards a grove of trees. + +"At some period of your family history," observed Kenyon, "the Counts +of Monte Beni must have led a patriarchal life in this vast house. A +great-grandsire and all his descendants might find ample verge here, +and with space, too, for each separate brood of little ones to play +within its own precincts. Is your present household a large one?" + +"Only myself," answered Donatello, "and Tomaso, who has been butler +since my grandfather's time, and old Stella, who goes sweeping and +dusting about the chambers, and Girolamo, the cook, who has but an +idle life of it. He shall send you up a chicken forthwith. But, +first of all, I must summon one of the contadini from the farmhouse +yonder, to take your horse to the stable." + +Accordingly, the young Count shouted again, and with such effect that, +after several repetitions of the outcry, an old gray woman protruded +her head and a broom-handle from a chamber window; the venerable +butler emerged from a recess in the side of the house, where was a +well, or reservoir, in which he had been cleansing a small wine cask; +and a sunburnt contadino, in his shirt-sleeves, showed himself on the +outskirts of the vineyard, with some kind of a farming tool in his +hand. Donatello found employment for all these retainers in providing +accommodation for his guest and steed, and then ushered the sculptor +into the vestibule of the house. + +It was a square and lofty entrance-room, which, by the solidity of its +construction, might have been an Etruscan tomb, being paved and walled +with heavy blocks of stone, and vaulted almost as massively overhead. +On two sides there were doors, opening into long suites of anterooms +and saloons; on the third side, a stone staircase of spacious breadth, +ascending, by dignified degrees and with wide resting-places, to +another floor of similar extent. Through one of the doors, which was +ajar, Kenyon beheld an almost interminable vista of apartments, +opening one beyond the other, and reminding him of the hundred rooms +in Blue Beard's castle, or the countless halls in some palace of the +Arabian Nights. + +It must have been a numerous family, indeed, that could ever have +sufficed to people with human life so large an abode as this, and +impart social warmth to such a wide world within doors. The sculptor +confessed to himself, that Donatello could allege reason enough for +growing melancholy, having only his own personality to vivify it all. + +"How a woman's face would brighten it up!" he ejaculated, not +intending to be overheard. + +But, glancing at Donatello, he saw a stern and sorrowful look in his +eyes, which altered his youthful face as if it had seen thirty years +of trouble; and, at the same moment, old Stella showed herself through +one of the doorways, as the only representative of her sex at Monte +Beni. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +SUNSHINE + + +"Come," said the Count, "I see you already find the old house dismal. +So do I, indeed! And yet it was a cheerful place in my boyhood. But, +you see, in my father's days (and the same was true of all my endless +line of grandfathers, as I have heard), there used to be uncles, aunts, +and all manner of kindred, dwelling together as one family. They +were a merry and kindly race of people, for the most part, and kept +one another's hearts warm." + +"Two hearts might be enough for warmth," observed the sculptor, "even +in so large a house as this. One solitary heart, it is true, may be +apt to shiver a little. But, I trust, my friend, that the genial +blood of your race still flows in many veins besides your own?" + +"I am the last," said Donatello gloomily. "They have all vanished +from me, since my childhood. Old Tomaso will tell you that the air of +Monte Beni is not so favorable to length of days as it used to be. +But that is not the secret of the quick extinction of my kindred." + +"Then you are aware of a more satisfactory reason?" suggested Kenyon. + +"I thought of one, the other night, while I was gazing at the stars," +answered Donatello; "but, pardon me, I do not mean to tell it. One +cause, however, of the longer and healthier life of my forefathers was, +that they had many pleasant customs, and means of making themselves +glad, and their guests and friends along with them. Nowadays we have +but one!" + +"And what is that?" asked the sculptor. + +"You shall see!" said his young host. + +By this time, he had ushered the sculptor into one of the numberless +saloons; and, calling for refreshment, old Stella placed a cold fowl +upon the table, and quickly followed it with a savory omelet, which +Girolamo had lost no time in preparing. She also brought some +cherries, plums, and apricots, and a plate full of particularly +delicate figs, of last year's growth. The butler showing his white +head at the door, his master beckoned to him. "Tomaso, bring some +Sunshine!" said he. The readiest method of obeying this order, one +might suppose, would have been to fling wide the green window-blinds, +and let the glow of the summer noon into the carefully shaded + +room. But, at Monte Beni, with provident caution against the wintry +days, when there is little sunshine, and the rainy ones, when there is +none, it was the hereditary custom to keep their Sunshine stored away +in the cellar. Old Tomaso quickly produced some of it in a small, +straw-covered flask, out of which he extracted the cork, and inserted +a little cotton wool, to absorb the olive oil that kept the precious +liquid from the air. + +"This is a wine," observed the Count, "the secret of making which has +been kept in our family for centuries upon centuries; nor would it +avail any man to steal the secret, unless he could also steal the +vineyard, in which alone the Monte Beni grape can be produced. There +is little else left me, save that patch of vines. Taste some of their +juice, and tell me whether it is worthy to be called Sunshine! for +that is its name." "A glorious name, too!" cried the sculptor. +"Taste it," said Donatello, filling his friend's glass, and pouring +likewise a little into his own. "But first smell its fragrance; for +the wine is very lavish of it, and will scatter it all abroad." + +"Ah, how exquisite!" said Kenyon. "No other wine has a bouquet like +this. The flavor must be rare, indeed, if it fulfill the promise of +this fragrance, which is like the airy sweetness of youthful hopes, +that no realities will ever satisfy!" + +This invaluable liquor was of a pale golden hue, like other of the +rarest Italian wines, and, if carelessly and irreligiously quaffed, +might have been mistaken for a very fine sort of champagne. It was +not, however, an effervescing wine, although its delicate piquancy +produced a somewhat similar effect upon the palate. Sipping, the +guest longed to sip again; but the wine demanded so deliberate a pause, +in order to detect the hidden peculiarities and subtile exquisiteness +of its flavor, that to drink it was really more a moral than a +physical enjoyment. There was a deliciousness in it that eluded +analysis, and--like whatever else is superlatively good--was perhaps +better appreciated in the memory than by present consciousness. + +One of its most ethereal charms lay in the transitory life of the +wine's richest qualities; for, while it required a certain leisure and +delay, yet, if you lingered too long upon the draught, it became +disenchanted both of its fragrance and its flavor. + +The lustre should not be forgotten, among the other admirable +endowments of the Monte Beni wine; for, as it stood in Kenyon's glass, +a little circle of light glowed on the table round about it, as if it +were really so much golden sunshine. + +"I feel myself a better man for that ethereal potation," observed the +sculptor. "The finest Orvieto, or that famous wine, the Est Est Est +of Montefiascone, is vulgar in comparison. This is surely the wine of +the Golden Age, such as Bacchus himself first taught mankind to press +from the choicest of his grapes. My dear Count, why is it not +illustrious? The pale, liquid gold, in every such flask as that, +might be solidified into golden scudi, and would quickly make you a +millionaire!" + +Tomaso, the old butler, who was standing by the table, and enjoying +the praises of the wine quite as much as if bestowed upon himself, +made answer,--"We have a tradition, Signore," said he, "that this rare +wine of our vineyard would lose all its wonderful qualities, if any of +it were sent to market. The Counts of Monte Beni have never parted +with a single flask of it for gold. At their banquets, in the olden +time, they have entertained princes, cardinals, and once an emperor +and once a pope, with this delicious wine, and always, even to this +day, it has been their custom to let it flow freely, when those whom +they love and honor sit at the board. But the grand duke himself +could not drink that wine, except it were under this very roof!" + +"What you tell me, my good friend," replied Kenyon, "makes me venerate +the Sunshine of Monte Beni even more abundantly than before. As I +understand you, it is a sort of consecrated juice, and symbolizes the +holy virtues of hospitality and social kindness?" + +"Why, partly so, Signore," said the old butler, with a shrewd twinkle +in his eye; "but, to speak out all the truth, there is another +excellent reason why neither a cask nor a flask of our precious +vintage should ever be sent to market. The wine, Signore, is so fond +of its native home, that a transportation of even a few miles turns it +quite sour. And yet it is a wine that keeps well in the cellar, +underneath this floor, and gathers fragrance, flavor, and brightness, +in its dark dungeon. That very flask of Sunshine, now, has kept +itself for you, sir guest (as a maid reserves her sweetness till her +lover comes for it), ever since a merry vintage-time, when the Signore +Count here was a boy!" + +"You must not wait for Tomaso to end his discourse about the wine, +before drinking off your glass," observed Donatello. "When once the +flask is uncorked, its finest qualities lose little time in making +their escape. I doubt whether your last sip will be quite so +delicious as you found the first." + +And, in truth, the sculptor fancied that the Sunshine became almost +imperceptibly clouded, as he approached the bottom of the flask. The +effect of the wine, however, was a gentle exhilaration, which did not +so speedily pass away. + +Being thus refreshed, Kenyon looked around him at the antique saloon +in which they sat. It was constructed in a most ponderous style, with +a stone floor, on which heavy pilasters were planted against the wall, +supporting arches that crossed one another in the vaulted ceiling. +The upright walls, as well as the compartments of the roof, were +completely Covered with frescos, which doubtless had been brilliant +when first executed, and perhaps for generations afterwards. The +designs were of a festive and joyous character, representing Arcadian +scenes, where nymphs, fauns, and satyrs disported themselves among +mortal youths and maidens; and Pan, and the god of wine, and he of +sunshine and music, disdained not to brighten some sylvan merry-making +with the scarcely veiled glory of their presence. A wreath of dancing +figures, in admirable variety of shape and motion, was festooned quite +round the cornice of the room. + +In its first splendor, the saloon must have presented an aspect both +gorgeous and enlivening; for it invested some of the cheerfullest +ideas and emotions of which the human mind is susceptible with the +external reality of beautiful form, and rich, harmonious glow and +variety of color. But the frescos were now very ancient. They had +been rubbed and scrubbed by old Stein and many a predecessor, and had +been defaced in one spot, and retouched in another, and had peeled +from the wall in patches, and had hidden some of their brightest +portions under dreary dust, till the joyousness had quite vanished out +of them all. It was often difficult to puzzle out the design; and +even where it was more readily intelligible, the figures showed like +the ghosts of dead and buried joys,--the closer their resemblance to +the happy past, the gloomier now. For it is thus, that with only an +inconsiderable change, the gladdest objects and existences become the +saddest; hope fading into disappointment; joy darkening into grief, +and festal splendor into funereal duskiness; and all evolving, as +their moral, a grim identity between gay things and sorrowful ones. +Only give them a little time, and they turn out to be just alike! + +"There has been much festivity in this saloon, if I may judge by the +character of its frescos," remarked Kenyon, whose spirits were still +upheld by the mild potency of the Monte Beni wine. "Your forefathers, +my dear Count, must have been joyous fellows, keeping up the vintage +merriment throughout the year. It does me good to think of them +gladdening the hearts of men and women, with their wine of Sunshine, +even in the Iron Age, as Pan and Bacchus, whom we see yonder, did in +the Golden one!" + +"Yes; there have been merry times in the banquet hall of Monte Beni, +even within my own remembrance," replied Donatello, looking gravely at +the painted walls. "It was meant for mirth, as you see; and when I +brought my own cheerfulness into the saloon, these frescos looked +cheerful too. But, methinks, they have all faded since I saw them +last." + +"It would be a good idea," said the sculptor, falling into his +companion's vein, and helping him out with an illustration which +Donatello himself could not have put into shape, "to convert this +saloon into a chapel; and when the priest tells his hearers of the +instability of earthly joys, and would show how drearily they vanish, +he may point to these pictures, that were so joyous and are so dismal. +He could not illustrate his theme so aptly in any other way." + +"True, indeed," answered the Count, his former simplicity strangely +mixing itself up with ah experience that had changed him; "and yonder, +where the minstrels used to stand, the altar shall be placed. A +sinful man might do all the more effective penance in this old banquet +hall." + +"But I should regret to have suggested so ungenial a transformation in +your hospitable saloon," continued Kenyon, duly noting the change in +Donatello's characteristics. "You startle me, my friend, by so +ascetic a design! It would hardly have entered your head, when we +first met. Pray do not,--if I may take the freedom of a somewhat +elder man to advise you," added he, smiling,--"pray do not, under a +notion of improvement, take upon yourself to be sombre, thoughtful, +and penitential, like all the rest of us." + +Donatello made no answer, but sat awhile, appearing to follow with his +eyes one of the figures, which was repeated many times over in the +groups upon the walls and ceiling. It formed the principal link of an +allegory, by which (as is often the case in such pictorial designs) +the whole series of frescos were bound together, but which it would be +impossible, or, at least, very wearisome, to unravel. The sculptor's +eyes took a similar direction, and soon began to trace through the +vicissitudes,--once gay, now sombre,--in which the old artist had +involved it, the same individual figure. He fancied a resemblance in +it to Donatello himself; and it put him in mind of one of the purposes +with which he had come to Monte Beni. + +"My dear Count," said he, "I have a proposal to make. You must let me +employ a little of my leisure in modelling your bust. You remember +what a striking resemblance we all of us--Hilda, Miriam, and I--found +between your features and those of the Faun of Praxiteles. Then, it +seemed an identity; but now that I know your face better, the likeness +is far less apparent. Your head in marble would be a treasure to me. +Shall I have it?" + +"I have a weakness which I fear I cannot overcome," replied the Count, +turning away his face. "It troubles me to be looked at steadfastly." + +"I have observed it since we have been sitting here, though never +before," rejoined the sculptor. "It is a kind of nervousness, I +apprehend, which, you caught in the Roman air, and which grows upon +you, in your solitary life. It need be no hindrance to my taking your +bust; for I will catch the likeness and expression by side glimpses, +which (if portrait painters and bust makers did but know it) always +bring home richer results than a broad stare." + +"You may take me if you have the power," said Donatello; but, even as +he spoke, he turned away his face; "and if you can see what makes me +shrink from you, you are welcome to put it in the bust. It is not my +will, but my necessity, to avoid men's eyes. Only," he added, with a +smile which made Kenyon doubt whether he might not as well copy the +Faun as model a new bust,--"only, you know, you must not insist on my +uncovering these ears of mine!" + +"Nay; I never should dream of such a thing," answered the sculptor, +laughing, as the young Count shook his clustering curls. "I could not +hope to persuade you, remembering how Miriam once failed!" + +Nothing is more unaccountable than the spell that often lurks in a +spoken word. A thought may be present to the mind, so distinctly that + +no utterance could make it more so; and two minds may be conscious of +the same thought, in which one or both take the profoundest interest; +but as long as it remains unspoken, their familiar talk flows quietly +over the hidden idea, as a rivulet may sparkle and dimple over +something sunken in its bed. But speak the word, and it is like +bringing up a drowned body out of the deepest pool of the rivulet, +which has been aware of the horrible secret all along, in spite of its +smiling surface. + +And even so, when Kenyon chanced to make a distinct reference to +Donatello's relations with Miriam (though the subject was already in +both their minds), a ghastly emotion rose up out of the depths of the +young Count's heart. He trembled either with anger or terror, and +glared at the sculptor with wild eyes, like a wolf that meets you in +the forest, and hesitates whether to flee or turn to bay. But, as +Kenyon still looked calmly at him, his aspect gradually became less +disturbed, though far from resuming its former quietude. + +"You have spoken her name," said he, at last, in an altered and +tremulous tone; "tell me, now, all that you know of her." + +"I scarcely think that I have any later intelligence than yourself," +answered Kenyon; "Miriam left Rome at about the time of your own +departure. Within a day or two after our last meeting at the Church +of the Capuchins, I called at her studio and found it vacant. Whither +she has gone, I cannot tell." + +Donatello asked no further questions. + +They rose from table, and strolled together about the premises, +whiling away the afternoon with brief intervals of unsatisfactory +conversation, and many shadowy silences. The sculptor had a +perception of change in his companion,--possibly of growth and +development, but certainly of change,--which saddened him, because it +took away much of the simple grace that was the best of Donatello's +peculiarities. + +Kenyon betook himself to repose that night in a grim, old, vaulted +apartment, which, in the lapse of five or six centuries, had probably +been the birth, bridal, and death chamber of a great many generations +of the Monte Beni family. He was aroused, soon after daylight, by the +clamor of a tribe of beggars who had taken their stand in a little +rustic lane that crept beside that portion of the villa, and were +addressing their petitions to the open windows. By and by they +appeared to have received alms, and took their departure. + +"Some charitable Christian has sent those vagabonds away," thought the +sculptor, as he resumed his interrupted nap; "who could it be? +Donatello has his own rooms in the tower; Stella, Tomaso, and the cook +are a world's width off; and I fancied myself the only inhabitant in +this part of the house." + +In the breadth and space which so delightfully characterize an Italian +villa, a dozen guests might have had each his suite of apartments +without infringing upon one another's ample precincts. But, so far as +Kenyon knew, he was the only visitor beneath Donatello's widely +extended roof. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +THE PEDIGREE OF MONTE BENI + + +From the old butler, whom he found to be a very gracious and affable +personage, Kenyon soon learned many curious particulars about the +family history and hereditary peculiarities of the Counts of Monte +Beni. There was a pedigree, the later portion of which--that is to +say, for a little more than a thousand years--a genealogist would have +found delight in tracing out, link by link, and authenticating by +records and documentary evidences. It would have been as difficult, +however, to follow up the stream of Donatello's ancestry to its dim +source, as travellers have found it to reach the mysterious fountains +of the Nile. And, far beyond the region of definite and demonstrable +fact, a romancer might have strayed into a region of old poetry, where +the rich soil, so long uncultivated and untrodden, had lapsed into +nearly its primeval state of wilderness. Among those antique paths, +now overgrown with tangled and riotous vegetation, the wanderer must +needs follow his own guidance, and arrive nowhither at last. + +The race of Monte Beni, beyond a doubt, was one of the oldest in Italy, +where families appear to survive at least, if not to flourish, on +their half-decayed roots, oftener than in England or France. It came +down in a broad track from the Middle Ages; but, at epochs anterior to +those, it was distinctly visible in the gloom of the period before +chivalry put forth its flower; and further still, we are almost afraid +to say, it was seen, though with a fainter and wavering course, in the +early morn of Christendom, when the Roman Empire had hardly begun to +show symptoms of decline. At that venerable distance, the heralds +gave up the lineage in despair. + +But where written record left the genealogy of Monte Beni, tradition +took it up, and carried it without dread or shame beyond the Imperial +ages into the times of the Roman republic; beyond those, again, into +the epoch of kingly rule. Nor even so remotely among the mossy +centuries did it pause, but strayed onward into that gray antiquity of +which there is no token left, save its cavernous tombs, and a few +bronzes, and some quaintly wrought ornaments of gold, and gems with +mystic figures and inscriptions. There, or thereabouts, the line was +supposed to have had its origin in the sylvan life of Etruria, while +Italy was yet guiltless of Rome. + +Of course, as we regret to say, the earlier and very much the larger +portion of this respectable descent--and the same is true of many +briefer pedigrees--must be looked upon as altogether mythical. Still, +it threw a romantic interest around the unquestionable antiquity of +the Monte Beni family, and over that tract of their own vines and +fig-trees beneath the shade of which they had unquestionably dwelt for +immemorial ages. And there they had laid the foundations of their +tower, so long ago that one half of its height was said to be sunken +under the surface and to hide subterranean chambers which once were +cheerful with the olden sunshine. + +One story, or myth, that had mixed itself up with their mouldy +genealogy, interested the sculptor by its wild, and perhaps grotesque, +yet not unfascinating peculiarity. He caught at it the more eagerly, +as it afforded a shadowy and whimsical semblance of explanation for +the likeness which he, with Miriam and Hilda, had seen or fancied +between Donatello and the Faun of Praxiteles. + +The Monte Beni family, as this legend averred, drew their origin from +the Pelasgic race, who peopled Italy in times that may be called +prehistoric. It was the same noble breed of men, of Asiatic birth, +that settled in Greece; the same happy and poetic kindred who dwelt in +Arcadia, and--whether they ever lived such life or not--enriched the +world with dreams, at least, and fables, lovely, if unsubstantial, of +a Golden Age. In those delicious times, when deities and demigods +appeared familiarly on earth, mingling with its inhabitants as friend +with friend,--when nymphs, satyrs, and the whole train of classic +faith or fable hardly took pains to hide themselves in the primeval +woods,--at that auspicious period the lineage of Monte Beni had its +rise. Its progenitor was a being not altogether human, yet partaking +so largely of the gentlest human qualities, as to be neither awful nor +shocking to the imagination. A sylvan creature, native among the +woods, had loved a mortal maiden, and--perhaps by kindness, and the +subtile courtesies which love might teach to his simplicity, or +possibly by a ruder wooing--had won her to his haunts. In due time he +gained her womanly affection; and, making their bridal bower, for +aught we know, in the hollow of a great tree, the pair spent a happy +wedded life in that ancient neighborhood where now stood Donatello's +tower. + +From this union sprang a vigorous progeny that took its place +unquestioned among human families. In that age, however, and long +afterwards, it showed the ineffaceable lineaments of its wild +paternity: it was a pleasant and kindly race of men, but capable of +savage fierceness, and never quite restrainable within the trammels of +social law. They were strong, active, genial, cheerful as the +sunshine, passionate as the tornado. Their lives were rendered +blissful by art unsought harmony with nature. + +But, as centuries passed away, the Faun's wild blood had necessarily +been attempered with constant intermixtures from the more ordinary +streams of human life. It lost many of its original qualities, and +served for the most part only to bestow an unconquerable vigor, which +kept the family from extinction, and enabled them to make their own +part good throughout the perils and rude emergencies of their +interminable descent. In the constant wars with which Italy was +plagued, by the dissensions of her petty states and republics, there +was a demand for native hardihood. + +The successive members of the Monte Beni family showed valor and +policy enough' at all events, to keep their hereditary possessions out +of the clutch of grasping neighbors, and probably differed very little +from the other feudal barons with whom they fought and feasted. Such +a degree of conformity with the manners of the generations through +which it survived, must have been essential to the prolonged +continuance of the race. + +It is well known, however, that any hereditary peculiarity--as a +supernumerary finger, or an anomalous shape of feature, like the +Austrian lip--is wont to show itself in a family after a very wayward +fashion. It skips at its own pleasure along the line, and, latent for +half a century or so, crops out again in a great-grandson. And thus, +it was said, from a period beyond memory or record, there had ever and +anon been a descendant of the Monte Benis bearing nearly all the +characteristics that were attributed to the original founder of the +race. Some traditions even went so far as to enumerate the ears, +covered with a delicate fur, and shaped like a pointed leaf, among the +proofs of authentic descent which were seen in these favored +individuals. We appreciate the beauty of such tokens of a nearer +kindred to the great family of nature than other mortals bear; but it +would be idle to ask credit for a statement which might be deemed to +partake so largely of the grotesque. + +But it was indisputable that, once in a century or oftener, a son of +Monte Beni gathered into himself the scattered qualities of his race, +and reproduced the character that had been assigned to it from +immemorial times. Beautiful, strong, brave, kindly, sincere, of +honest impulses, and endowed with simple tastes and the love of homely +pleasures, he was believed to possess gifts by which he could +associate himself with the wild things of the forests, and with the +fowls of the air, and could feel a sympathy even with the trees; among +which it was his joy to dwell. On the other hand, there were +deficiencies both of intellect and heart, and especially, as it seemed, +in the development of the higher portion of man's nature. These +defects were less perceptible in early youth, but showed themselves +more strongly with advancing age, when, as the animal spirits settled +down upon a lower level, the representative of the Monte Benis was apt +to become sensual, addicted to gross pleasures, heavy, unsympathizing, +and insulated within the narrow limits of a surly selfishness. + +A similar change, indeed, is no more than what we constantly observe +to take place in persons who are not careful to substitute other +graces for those which they inevitably lose along with the quick +sensibility and joyous vivacity of youth. At worst, the reigning +Count of Monte Beni, as his hair grew white, was still a jolly old +fellow over his flask of wine, the wine that Bacchus himself was +fabled to have taught his sylvan ancestor how to express, and from +what choicest grapes, which would ripen only in a certain divinely +favored portion of the Monte Beni vineyard. + +The family, be it observed, were both proud and ashamed of these +legends; but whatever part of them they might consent to incorporate +into their ancestral history, they steadily repudiated all that +referred to their one distinctive feature, the pointed and furry ears. +In a great many years past, no sober credence had been yielded to the +mythical portion of the pedigree. It might, however, be considered as +typifying some such assemblage of qualities--in this case, chiefly +remarkable for their simplicity and naturalness--as, when they +reappear in successive generations, constitute what we call family +character. The sculptor found, moreover, on the evidence of some old +portraits, that the physical features of the race had long been +similar to what he now saw them in Donatello. With accumulating years, +it is true, the Monte Beni face had a tendency to look grim and +savage; and, in two or three instances, the family pictures glared at +the spectator in the eyes like some surly animal, that had lost its +good humor when it outlived its playfulness. + +The young Count accorded his guest full liberty to investigate the +personal annals of these pictured worthies, as well as all the rest of +his progenitors; and ample materials were at hand in many chests of +worm-eaten papers and yellow parchments, that had been gathering into +larger and dustier piles ever since the dark ages. But, to confess +the truth, the information afforded by these musty documents was so +much more prosaic than what Kenyon acquired from Tomaso's legends, +that even the superior authenticity of the former could not reconcile +him to its dullness. What especially delighted the sculptor was the +analogy between Donatello's character, as he himself knew it, and +those peculiar traits which the old butler's narrative assumed to have +been long hereditary in the race. He was amused at finding, too, that +not only Tomaso but the peasantry of the estate and neighboring +village recognized his friend as a genuine Monte Beni, of the original +type. They seemed to cherish a great affection for the young Count, +and were full of stories about his sportive childhood; how he had +played among the little rustics, and been at once the wildest and the +sweetest of them all; and how, in his very infancy, he had plunged +into the deep pools of the streamlets and never been drowned, and had +clambered to the topmost branches of tall trees without ever breaking +his neck. No such mischance could happen to the sylvan child because, +handling all the elements of nature so fearlessly and freely, nothing +had either the power or the will to do him harm. + +He grew up, said these humble friends, the playmate not only of all +mortal kind, but of creatures of the woods; although, when Kenyon +pressed them for some particulars of this latter mode of companionship, +they could remember little more than a few anecdotes of a pet fox, +which used to growl and snap at everybody save Donatello himself. + +But they enlarged--and never were weary of the theme--upon the +blithesome effects of Donatello's presence in his rosy childhood and +budding youth. Their hovels had always glowed like sunshine when he +entered them; so that, as the peasants expressed it, their young +master had never darkened a doorway in his life. He was the soul of +vintage festivals. While he was a mere infant, scarcely able to run +alone, it had been the custom to make him tread the winepress with his +tender little feet, if it were only to crush one cluster of the grapes. +And the grape-juice that gushed beneath his childish tread, be it +ever so small in quantity, sufficed to impart a pleasant flavor to a +whole cask of wine. The race of Monte Beni--so these rustic +chroniclers assured the sculptor--had possessed the gift from the +oldest of old times of expressing good wine from ordinary grapes, and +a ravishing liquor from the choice growth of their vineyard. + +In a word, as he listened to such tales as these, Kenyon could have +imagined that the valleys and hillsides about him were a veritable +Arcadia; and that Donatello was not merely a sylvan faun, but the +genial wine god in his very person. Making many allowances for the +poetic fancies of Italian peasants, he set it down for fact that his +friend, in a simple way and among rustic folks, had been an +exceedingly delightful fellow in his younger days. + +But the contadini sometimes added, shaking their heads and sighing, +that the young Count was sadly changed since he went to Rome. The +village girls now missed the merry smile with which he used to greet +them. + +The sculptor inquired of his good friend Tomaso, whether he, too, had +noticed the shadow which was said to have recently fallen over +Donatello's life. + +"Ah, yes, Signore!" answered the old butler, "it is even so, since he +came back from that wicked and miserable city. The world has grown +either too evil, or else too wise and sad, for such men as the old +Counts of Monte Beni used to be. His very first taste of it, as you +see, has changed and spoilt my poor young lord. There had not been a +single count in the family these hundred years or more, who was so +true a Monte Beni, of the antique stamp, as this poor signorino; and +now it brings the tears into my eyes to hear him sighing over a cup of +Sunshine! Ah, it is a sad world now!" + +"Then you think there was a merrier world once?" asked Kenyon. + +"Surely, Signore," said Tomaso; "a merrier world, and merrier Counts +of Monte Beni to live in it! Such tales of them as I have heard, when +I was a child on my grandfather's knee! The good old man remembered a +lord of Monte Beni--at least, he had heard of such a one, though I +will not make oath upon the holy crucifix that my grandsire lived in +his time who used to go into the woods and call pretty damsels out of +the fountains, and out of the trunks of the old trees. That merry +lord was known to dance with them a whole long summer afternoon! When +shall we see such frolics in our days?" + +"Not soon, I am afraid," acquiesced the sculptor. "You are right, +excellent Tomaso; the world is sadder now!" + +And, in truth, while our friend smiled at these wild fables, he sighed +in the same breath to think how the once genial earth produces, in +every successive generation, fewer flowers than used to gladden the +preceding ones. Not that the modes and seeming possibilities of human +enjoyment are rarer in our refined and softened era,--on the contrary, +they never before were nearly so abundant,--but that mankind are +getting so far beyond the childhood of their race that they scorn to +be happy any longer. A simple and joyous character can find no place +for itself among the sage and sombre figures that would put his +unsophisticated cheerfulness to shame. The entire system of man's +affairs, as at present established, is built up purposely to exclude +the careless and happy soul. The very children would upbraid the +wretched individual who should endeavor to take life and the world as +w what we might naturally suppose them meant for--a place and +opportunity for enjoyment. + +It is the iron rule in our day to require an object and a purpose in +life. It makes us all parts of a complicated scheme of progress, +which can only result in our arrival at a, colder and drearier region +than we were born in. It insists upon everybody's adding somewhat--a +mite, perhaps, but earned by incessant effort--to an accumulated pile +of usefulness, of which the only use will be, to burden our posterity +with even heavier thoughts and more inordinate labor than our own. No +life now wanders like an unfettered stream; there is a mill-wheel for +the tiniest rivulet to turn. We go all wrong, by too strenuous a +resolution to go all right. + +Therefore it was--so, at least, the sculptor thought, although partly +suspicious of Donatello's darker misfortune--that the young Count +found it impossible nowadays to be what his forefathers had been. He +could not live their healthy life of animal spirits, in their sympathy +with nature, and brotherhood with all that breathed around them. +Nature, in beast, fowl, and tree, and earth, flood, and sky, is what +it was of old; but sin, care, and self-consciousness have set the +human portion of the world askew; and thus the simplest character is +ever the soonest to go astray. + +"At any rate, Tomaso," said Kenyon, doing his best to comfort the old +man, "let us hope that your young lord will still enjoy himself at +vintage time. By the aspect of the vineyard, I judge that this will +be a famous year for the golden wine of Monte Beni. As long as your +grapes produce that admirable liquor, sad as you think the world, +neither the Count nor his guests will quite forget to smile." + +"Ah, Signore," rejoined the butler with a sigh, "but he scarcely wets +his lips with the sunny juice." + +"There is yet another hope," observed Kenyon; "the young Count may +fall in love, and bring home a fair and laughing wife to chase the +gloom out of yonder old frescoed saloon. Do you think he could do a +better thing, my good Tomaso?" + +"Maybe not, Signore," said the sage butler, looking earnestly at him; +"and, maybe, not a worse!" + +The sculptor fancied that the good old man had it partly in his mind +to make some remark, or communicate some fact, which, on second +thoughts, he resolved to keep concealed in his own breast. He now +took his departure cellarward, shaking his white head and muttering to +himself, and did not reappear till dinner-time, when he favored Kenyon, +whom he had taken far into his good graces, with a choicer flask of +Sunshine than had yet blessed his palate. + +To say the truth, this golden wine was no unnecessary ingredient +towards making the life of Monte Beni palatable. It seemed a pity +that Donatello did not drink a little more of it, and go jollily to +bed at least, even if he should awake with an accession of darker +melancholy the next morning. + +Nevertheless, there was no lack of outward means for leading an +agreeable life in the old villa. Wandering musicians haunted the +precincts of Monte Beni, where they seemed to claim a prescriptive +right; they made the lawn and shrubbery tuneful with the sound of +fiddle, harp, and flute, and now and then with the tangled squeaking +of a bagpipe. Improvisatori likewise came and told tales or recited +verses to the contadini--among whom Kenyon was often an auditor--after +their day's work in the vineyard. Jugglers, too, obtained permission +to do feats of magic in the hall, where they set even the sage Tomaso, +and Stella, Girolamo, and the peasant girls from the farmhouse, all of +a broad grin, between merriment and wonder. These good people got +food and lodging for their pleasant pains, and some of the small wine +of Tuscany, and a reasonable handful of the Grand Duke's copper coin, +to keep up the hospitable renown of Monte Beni. But very seldom had +they the young Count as a listener or a spectator. + +There were sometimes dances by moonlight on the lawn, but never since +he came from Rome did Donatello's presence deepen the blushes of the +pretty contadinas, or his footstep weary out the most agile partner or +competitor, as once it was sure to do. + +Paupers--for this kind of vermin infested the house of Monte Beni +worse than any other spot in beggar-haunted Italy--stood beneath all +the windows, making loud supplication, or even establishing themselves +on the marble steps of the grand entrance. They ate and drank, and +filled their bags, and pocketed the little money that was given them, +and went forth on their devious ways, showering blessings innumerable +on the mansion and its lord, and on the souls of his deceased +forefathers, who had always been just such simpletons as to be +compassionate to beggary. But, in spite of their favorable prayers, +by which Italian philanthropists set great store, a cloud seemed to +hang over these once Arcadian precincts, and to be darkest around the +summit of the tower where Donatello was wont to sit and brood. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +MYTHS + + +After the sculptor's arrival, however, the young Count sometimes came +down from his forlorn elevation, and rambled with him among the +neighboring woods and hills. He led his friend to many enchanting +nooks, with which he himself had been familiar in his childhood. But +of late, as he remarked to Kenyon, a sort of strangeness had overgrown +them, like clusters of dark shrubbery, so that he hardly recognized +the places which he had known and loved so well. + +To the sculptor's eye, nevertheless, they were still rich with beauty. +They were picturesque in that sweetly impressive way where wildness, +in a long lapse of years, has crept over scenes that have been once +adorned with the careful art and toil of man; and when man could do no +more for them, time and nature came, and wrought hand in hand to bring +them to a soft and venerable perfection. There grew the fig-tree that +had run wild and taken to wife the vine, which likewise had gone +rampant out of all human control; so that the two wild things had +tangled and knotted themselves into a wild marriage bond, and hung +their various progeny--the luscious figs, the grapes, oozy with the +Southern juice, and both endowed with a wild flavor that added the +final charm--on the same bough together. + +In Kenyon's opinion, never was any other nook so lovely as a certain +little dell which he and Donatello visited. It was hollowed in among +the hills, and open to a glimpse of the broad, fertile valley. A +fountain had its birth here, and fell into a marble basin, which was +all covered with moss and shaggy with water-weeds. Over the gush of +the small stream, with an urn in her arms, stood a marble nymph, whose +nakedness the moss had kindly clothed as with a garment; and the long +trails and tresses of the maidenhair had done what they could in the +poor thing's behalf, by hanging themselves about her waist, In former +days--it might be a remote antiquity--this lady of the fountain had +first received the infant tide into her urn and poured it thence into +the marble basin. But now the sculptured urn had a great crack from +top to bottom; and the discontented nymph was compelled to see the +basin fill itself through a channel which she could not control, +although with water long ago consecrated to her. + +For this reason, or some other, she looked terribly forlorn; and you +might have fancied that the whole fountain was but the overflow of her +lonely tears. + +"This was a place that I used greatly to delight in," remarked +Donatello, sighing. "As a child, and as a boy, I have been very happy +here." + +"And, as a man, I should ask no fitter place to be happy in," answered +Kenyon. "But you, my friend, are of such a social nature, that I +should hardly have thought these lonely haunts would take your fancy. +It is a place for a poet to dream in, and people it with the beings of +his imagination." + +"I am no poet, that I know of," said Donatello, "but yet, as I tell +you, I have been very happy here, in the company of this fountain and +this nymph. It is said that a Faun, my oldest forefather, brought +home hither to this very spot a human maiden, whom he loved and wedded. +This spring of delicious water was their household well." + +"It is a most enchanting fable!" exclaimed Kenyon; "that is, if it be +not a fact." + +"And why not a fact?" said the simple Donatello. "There is, likewise, +another sweet old story connected with this spot. But, now that I +remember it, it seems to me more sad than sweet, though formerly the +sorrow, in which it closes, did not so much impress me. If I had the +gift of tale-telling, this one would be sure to interest you mightily." + +"Pray tell it," said Kenyon; "no matter whether well or ill. These +wild legends have often the most powerful charm when least artfully +told." + +So the young Count narrated a myth of one of his Progenitors,--he +might have lived a century ago, or a thousand years, or before the +Christian epoch, for anything that Donatello knew to the contrary, +--who had made acquaintance with a fair creature belonging to this +fountain. Whether woman or sprite was a mystery, as was all else +about her, except that her life and soul were somehow interfused +throughout the gushing water. She was a fresh, cool, dewy thing, +sunny and shadowy, full of pleasant little mischiefs, fitful and +changeable with the whim of the moment, but yet as constant as her +native stream, which kept the same gush and flow forever, while marble +crumbled over and around it. The fountain woman loved the youth,--a +knight, as Donatello called him,--for, according to the legend, his +race was akin to hers. At least, whether kin or no, there had been +friendship and sympathy of old betwixt an ancestor of his, with furry +ears, and the long-lived lady of the fountain. And, after all those +ages, she was still as young as a May morning, and as frolicsome as a +bird upon a tree, or a breeze that makes merry with the leaves. + +She taught him how to call her from her pebbly source, and they spent +many a happy hour together, more especially in the fervor of the +summer days. For often as he sat waiting for her by the margin of the +spring, she would suddenly fall down around him in a shower of sunny +raindrops, with a rainbow glancing through them, and forthwith gather +herself up into the likeness of a beautiful girl, laughing--or was it +the warble of the rill over the pebbles?--to see the youth's amazement. + + +Thus, kind maiden that she was, the hot atmosphere became deliciously +cool and fragrant for this favored knight; and, furthermore, when he +knelt down to drink out of the spring, nothing was more common than +for a pair of rosy lips to come up out of its little depths, and touch +his mouth with the thrill of a sweet, cool, dewy kiss! + +"It is a delightful story for the hot noon of your Tuscan summer," +observed the sculptor, at this point. "But the deportment of the +watery lady must have had a most chilling influence in midwinter. Her +lover would find it, very literally, a cold reception!" + +"I suppose," said Donatello rather sulkily, "you are making fun of the +story. But I see nothing laughable in the thing itself, nor in what +you say about it." + +He went on to relate, that for a long While the knight found infinite +pleasure and comfort in the friendship of the fountain nymph. In his +merriest hours, she gladdened him with her sportive humor. If ever he +was annoyed with earthly trouble, she laid her moist hand upon his +brow, and charmed the fret and fever quite away. + +But one day--one fatal noontide--the young knight came rushing with +hasty and irregular steps to the accustomed fountain. He called the +nymph; but--no doubt because there was something unusual and frightful +in his tone she did not appear, nor answer him. He flung himself down, +and washed his hands and bathed his feverish brow in the cool, pure +water. And then there was a sound of woe; it might have been a +woman's voice; it might have been only the sighing of the brook over +the pebbles. The water shrank away from the youth's hands, and left +his brow as dry and feverish as before. + +Donatello here came to a dead pause. + +"Why did the water shrink from this unhappy knight?" inquired the +sculptor. + +"Because he had tried to wash off a bloodstain!" said the young Count, +in a horror-stricken whisper. "The guilty man had polluted the pure +water. The nymph might have comforted him in sorrow, but could not +cleanse his conscience of a crime." + +"And did he never behold her more?" asked Kenyon. + +"Never but once," replied his friend. "He never beheld her blessed +face but once again, and then there was a blood-stain on the poor +nymph's brow; it was the stain his guilt had left in the fountain +where he tried to wash it off. He mourned for her his whole life long, +and employed the best sculptor of the time to carve this statue of +the nymph from his description of her aspect. But, though my ancestor +would fain have had the image wear her happiest look, the artist, +unlike yourself, was so impressed with the mournfulness of the story, +that, in spite of his best efforts, he made her forlorn, and forever +weeping, as you see!" + +Kenyon found a certain charm in this simple legend. Whether so +intended or not, he understood it as an apologue, typifying the +soothing and genial effects of an habitual intercourse with nature in +all ordinary cares and griefs; while, on the other hand, her mild +influences fall short in their effect upon the ruder passions, and are +altogether powerless in the dread fever-fit or deadly chill of guilt. + +"Do you say," he asked, "that the nymph's race has never since been +shown to any mortal? Methinks you, by your native qualities, are as +well entitled to her favor as ever your progenitor could have been. +Why have you not summoned her?" + +"I called her often when I was a silly child," answered Donatello; and +he added, in an inward voice, "Thank Heaven, she did not come!" + +"Then you never saw her?" said the sculptor. + +"Never in my life!" rejoined the Count. "No, my dear friend, I have +not seen the nymph; although here, by her fountain, I used to make +many strange acquaintances; for, from my earliest childhood, I was +familiar with whatever creatures haunt the woods. You would have +laughed to see the friends I had among them; yes, among the wild, +nimble things, that reckon man their deadliest enemy! How it was +first taught me, I cannot tell; but there was a charm--a voice, a +murmur, a kind of chant--by which I called the woodland inhabitants, +the furry people, and the feathered people, in a language that they +seemed to understand." + +"I have heard of such a gift," responded the sculptor gravely, "but +never before met with a person endowed with it. Pray try the charm; +and lest I should frighten your friends away, I will withdraw into +this thicket, and merely peep at them." + +"I doubt," said Donatello, "whether they will remember my voice now. +It changes, you know, as the boy grows towards manhood." + +Nevertheless, as the young Count's good-nature and easy persuadability +were among his best characteristics, he set about complying with +Kenyon's request. The latter, in his concealment among the +shrubberies, heard him send forth a sort of modulated breath, wild, +rude, yet harmonious. It struck the auditor as at once the strangest +and the most natural utterance that had ever reached his ears. Any +idle boy, it should seem, singing to himself and setting his wordless +song to no other or more definite tune than the play of his own pulses, +might produce a sound almost identical with this; and yet, it was as +individual as a murmur of the breeze. Donatello tried it, over and +over again, with many breaks, at first, and pauses of uncertainty; +then with more confidence, and a fuller swell, like a wayfarer groping +out of obscurity into the light, and moving with freer footsteps as it +brightens around him. + +Anon, his voice appeared to fill the air, yet not with an obtrusive +clangor. The sound was of a murmurous character, soft, attractive, +persuasive, friendly. The sculptor fancied that such might have been +the original voice and utterance of the natural man, before the +sophistication of the human intellect formed what we now call language. +In this broad dialect--broad as the sympathies of nature--the human +brother might have spoken to his inarticulate brotherhood that prowl +the woods, or soar upon the wing, and have been intelligible to such +extent as to win their confidence. + +The sound had its pathos too. At some of its simple cadences, the +tears came quietly into Kenyon's eyes. They welled up slowly from his +heart, which was thrilling with an emotion more delightful than he had +often felt before, but which he forbore to analyze, lest, if he seized +it, it should at once perish in his grasp. + +Donatello paused two or three times, and seemed to listen,--then, +recommencing, he poured his spirit and life more earnestly into the +strain. And finally,--or else the sculptor's hope and imagination +deceived him,--soft treads were audible upon the fallen leaves. There +was a rustling among the shrubbery; a whir of wings, moreover, that +hovered in the air. It may have been all an illusion; but Kenyon +fancied that he could distinguish the stealthy, cat-like movement of +some small forest citizen, and that he could even see its doubtful +shadow, if not really its substance. But, all at once, whatever might +be the reason, there ensued a hurried rush and scamper of little feet; +and then the sculptor heard a wild, sorrowful cry, and through the +crevices of the thicket beheld Donatello fling himself on the ground. + +Emerging from his hiding-place, he saw no living thing, save a brown +lizard (it was of the tarantula species) rustling away through the +sunshine. To all present appearance, this venomous reptile was the +only creature that had responded to the young Count's efforts to renew +his intercourse with the lower orders of nature. + +"What has happened to you?" exclaimed Kenyon, stooping down over his +friend, and wondering at the anguish which he betrayed. + +"Death, death!" sobbed Donatello. "They know it!" + +He grovelled beside the fountain, in a fit of such passionate sobbing +and weeping, that it seemed as if his heart had broken, and spilt its +wild sorrows upon the ground. His unrestrained grief and childish +tears made Kenyon sensible in how small a degree the customs and +restraints of society had really acted upon this young man, in spite +of the quietude of his ordinary deportment. In response to his +friend's efforts to console him, he murmured words hardly more +articulate than the strange chant which he had so recently been +breathing into the air. + +"They know it!" was all that Kenyon could yet distinguish,--"they know +it!" + +"Who know it?" asked the sculptor. "And what is it their know?" +"They know it!" repeated Donatello, trembling. "They shun me! All +nature shrinks from me, and shudders at me! I live in the midst of a +curse, that hems me round with a circle of fire! No innocent thing +can come near me." + +"Be comforted, my dear friend," said Kenyon, kneeling beside him. +"You labor under some illusion, but no curse. As for this strange, +natural spell, which you have been exercising, and of which I have +heard before, though I never believed in, nor expected to witness it, +I am satisfied that you still possess it. It was my own +half-concealed presence, no doubt, and some involuntary little +movement of mine, that scared away your forest friends." + +"They are friends of mine no longer," answered Donatello. + +"We all of us, as we grow older," rejoined Kenyon, "lose somewhat of +our proximity to nature. It is the price we pay for experience." + +"A heavy price, then!" said Donatello, rising from the ground. "But +we will speak no more of it. Forget this scene, my dear friend. In +your eyes, it must look very absurd. It is a grief, I presume, to all +men, to find the pleasant privileges and properties of early life +departing from them. That grief has now befallen me. Well; I shall +waste no more tears for such a cause!" + +Nothing else made Kenyon so sensible of a change in Donatello, as his +newly acquired power of dealing with his own emotions, and, after a +struggle more or less fierce, thrusting them down into the prison +cells where he usually kept them confined. The restraint, which he +now put upon himself, and the mask of dull composure which he +succeeded in clasping over his still beautiful, and once faun-like +face, affected the sensitive sculptor more sadly than even the +unrestrained passion of the preceding scene. It is a very miserable +epoch, when the evil necessities of life, in our tortuous world, first +get the better of us so far as to compel us to attempt throwing a +cloud over our transparency. Simplicity increases in value the longer +we can keep it, and the further we carry it onward into life; the loss +of a child's simplicity, in the inevitable lapse of years, causes but +a natural sigh or two, because even his mother feared that he could +not keep it always. But after a young man has brought it through his +childhood, and has still worn it in his bosom, not as an early dewdrop, +but as a diamond of pure white lustre,--it is a pity to lose it, then. +And thus, when Kenyon saw how much his friend had now to hide, and +how well he hid it, he would have wept, although his tears would have +been even idler than those which Donatello had just shed. + +They parted on the lawn before the house, the Count to climb his tower, +and the sculptor to read an antique edition of Dante, which he had +found among some old volumes of Catholic devotion, in a seldom-visited +room, Tomaso met him in the entrance hall, and showed a desire to +speak. + +"Our poor signorino looks very sad to-day!" he said. + +"Even so, good Tomaso," replied the sculptor. "Would that we could +raise his spirits a little!" + +"There might be means, Signore," answered the old butler, "if one +might but be sure that they were the right ones. We men are but rough +nurses for a sick body or a sick spirit." + +"Women, you would say, my good friend, are better," said the sculptor, +struck by an intelligence in the butler's face. "That is possible! +But it depends." + +"Ah; we will wait a little longer," said Tomaso, with the customary +shake of his head. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +THE OWL TOWER + + +"Will you not show me your tower?" said the sculptor one day to his +friend. + +"It is plainly enough to be seen, methinks," answered the Count, with +a kind of sulkiness that often appeared in him, as one of the little +symptoms of inward trouble. + +"Yes; its exterior is visible far and wide," said Kenyon. "But such a +gray, moss-grown tower as this, however valuable as an object of +scenery, will certainly be quite as interesting inside as out. It +cannot be less than six hundred years old; the foundations and lower +story are much older than that, I should judge; and traditions +probably cling to the walls within quite as plentifully as the gray +and yellow lichens cluster on its face without." + +"No doubt," replied Donatello,--"but I know little of such things, and +never could comprehend the interest which some of you Forestieri take +in them. A year or two ago an English signore, with a venerable white +beard--they say he was a magician, too--came hither from as far off as +Florence, just to see my tower." + +"Ah, I have seen him at Florence," observed Kenyon. "He is a +necromancer, as you say, and dwells in an old mansion of the Knights +Templars, close by the Ponte Vecchio, with a great many ghostly books, +pictures, and antiquities, to make the house gloomy, and one +bright-eyed little girl, to keep it cheerful!" + +"I know him only by his white beard," said Donatello; "but he could +have told you a great deal about the tower, and the sieges which it +has stood, and the prisoners who have been confined in it. And he +gathered up all the traditions of the Monte Beni family, and, among +the rest, the sad one which I told you at the fountain the other day. +He had known mighty poets, he said, in his earlier life; and the most +illustrious of them would have rejoiced to preserve such a legend in +immortal rhyme,--especially if he could have had some of our wine of +Sunshine to help out his inspiration!" + +"Any man might be a poet, as well as Byron, with such wine and such a +theme," rejoined the sculptor. "But shall we climb your tower The +thunder-storm gathering yonder among the hills will be a spectacle +worth witnessing." + +"Come, then," said the Count, adding, with a sigh, "it has a weary +staircase, and dismal chambers, and it is very lonesome at the summit!" + +"Like a man's life, when he has climbed to eminence," remarked the +sculptor; "or, let us rather say, with its difficult steps, and the +dark prison cells you speak of, your tower resembles the spiritual +experience of many a sinful soul, which, nevertheless, may struggle +upward into the pure air and light of Heaven at last!" + +Donatello sighed again, and led the way up into the tower. + +Mounting the broad staircase that ascended from the entrance hall, +they traversed the great wilderness of a house, through some obscure +passages, and came to a low, ancient doorway. It admitted them to a +narrow turret stair which zigzagged upward, lighted in its progress by +loopholes and iron-barred windows. Reaching the top of the first +flight, the Count threw open a door of worm-eaten oak, and disclosed a +chamber that occupied the whole area of the tower. It was most +pitiably forlorn of aspect, with a brick-paved floor, bare holes +through the massive walls, grated with iron, instead of windows, and +for furniture an old stool, which increased the dreariness of the +place tenfold, by suggesting an idea of its having once been tenanted. + +"This was a prisoner's cell in the old days," said Donatello; "the +white-bearded necromancer, of whom I told you, found out that a +certain famous monk was confined here, about five hundred years ago. +He was a very holy man, and was afterwards burned at the stake in the +Grand-ducal Square at Firenze. There have always been stories, Tomaso +says, of a hooded monk creeping up and down these stairs, or standing +in the doorway of this chamber. It must needs be the ghost of the +ancient prisoner. Do you believe in ghosts?" + +"I can hardly tell," replied Kenyon; "on the whole, I think not." + +"Neither do I," responded the Count; "for, if spirits ever come back, +I should surely have met one within these two months past. Ghosts +never rise! So much I know, and am glad to know it!" + +Following the narrow staircase still higher, they came to another room +of similar size and equally forlorn, but inhabited by two personages +of a race which from time immemorial have held proprietorship and +occupancy in ruined towers. These were a pair of owls, who, being +doubtless acquainted with Donatello, showed little sign of alarm at +the entrance of visitors. They gave a dismal croak or two, and hopped +aside into the darkest corner, since it was not yet their hour to flap +duskily abroad. + +"They do not desert me, like my other feathered acquaintances," +observed the young Count, with a sad smile, alluding to the scene +which Kenyon had witnessed at the fountain-side. "When I was a wild, +playful boy, the owls did not love me half so well." + +He made no further pause here, but led his friend up another flight of +steps--while, at every stage, the windows and narrow loopholes +afforded Kenyon more extensive eye-shots over hill and valley, and +allowed him to taste the cool purity of mid-atmosphere. At length +they reached the topmost chamber, directly beneath the roof of the +tower. + +"This is my own abode," said Donatello; "my own owl's nest." + +In fact, the room was fitted up as a bedchamber, though in a style of +the utmost simplicity. It likewise served as an oratory; there being +a crucifix in one corner, and a multitude of holy emblems, such as +Catholics judge it necessary to help their devotion withal. Several +ugly little prints, representing the sufferings of the Saviour, and +the martyrdoms of saints, hung on the wall; and behind the crucifix +there was a good copy of Titian's Magdalen of the Pitti Palace, clad +only in the flow of her golden ringlets. She had a confident look +(but it was Titian's fault, not the penitent woman's), as if expecting +to win heaven by the free display of her earthly charms. Inside of a +glass case appeared an image of the sacred Bambino, in the guise of a +little waxen boy, very prettily made, reclining among flowers, like a +Cupid, and holding up a heart that resembled a bit of red sealing-wax. +A small vase of precious marble was full of holy water. + +Beneath the crucifix, on a table, lay a human skull, which looked as +if it might have been dug up out of some old grave. But, examining it +more closely, Kenyon saw that it was carved in gray alabaster; most +skillfully done to the death, with accurate imitation of the teeth, the +sutures, the empty eye-caverns, and the fragile little bones of the +nose. This hideous emblem rested on a cushion of white marble, so +nicely wrought that you seemed to see the impression of the heavy +skull in a silken and downy substance. + +Donatello dipped his fingers into the holy-water vase, and crossed +himself. After doing so he trembled. + +"I have no right to make the sacred symbol on a sinful breast!" he +said. + +"On what mortal breast can it be made, then?" asked the sculptor. "Is +there one that hides no sin?" + +"But these blessed emblems make you smile, I fear," resumed the Count, +looking askance at his friend. "You heretics, I know, attempt to pray +without even a crucifix to kneel at." + +"I, at least, whom you call a heretic, reverence that holy symbol," +answered Kenyon. "What I am most inclined to murmur at is this +death's head. I could laugh, moreover, in its ugly face! It is +absurdly monstrous, my dear friend, thus to fling the dead weight of +our mortality upon our immortal hopes. While we live on earth, 't is +true, we must needs carry our skeletons about with us; but, for +Heaven's sake, do not let us burden our spirits with them, in our +feeble efforts to soar upward! Believe me, it will change the whole +aspect of death, if you can once disconnect it, in your idea, with +that corruption from which it disengages our higher part." + +"I do not well understand you," said Donatello; and he took up the +alabaster skull, shuddering, and evidently feeling it a kind of +penance to touch it. "I only know that this skull has been in my +family for centuries. Old Tomaso has a story that it was copied by a +famous sculptor from the skull of that same unhappy knight who loved +the fountain lady, and lost her by a blood-stain. He lived and died +with a deep sense of sin upon him, and on his death-bed he ordained +that this token of him should go down to his posterity. And my +forefathers, being a cheerful race of men in their natural disposition, +found it needful to have the skull often before their eyes, because +they dearly loved life and its enjoyments, and hated the very thought +of death." + +"I am afraid," said Kenyon, "they liked it none the better, for seeing +its face under this abominable mask." + +Without further discussion, the Count led the way up one more flight +of stairs, at the end of which they emerged upon the summit of the +tower. The sculptor felt as if his being were suddenly magnified a +hundredfold; so wide was the Umbrian valley that suddenly opened +before him, set in its grand framework of nearer and more distant +hills. It seemed as if all Italy lay under his eyes in that one +picture. For there was the broad, sunny smile of God, which we fancy +to be spread over that favored land more abundantly than on other +regions, and beneath it glowed a most rich and varied fertility. The +trim vineyards were there, and the fig-trees, and the mulberries, and +the smoky-hued tracts of the olive orchards; there, too, were fields of +every kind of grain, among which, waved the Indian corn, putting +Kenyon in mind of the fondly remembered acres of his father's +homestead. White villas, gray convents, church spires, villages, +towns, each with its battlemented walls and towered gateway, were +scattered upon this spacious map; a river gleamed across it; and lakes +opened their blue eyes in its face, reflecting heaven, lest mortals +should forget that better land when they beheld the earth so beautiful. + + +What made the valley look still wider was the two or three varieties +of weather that were visible on its surface, all at the same instant +of time. Here lay the quiet sunshine; there fell the great black +patches of ominous shadow from the clouds; and behind them, like a +giant of league-long strides, came hurrying the thunderstorm, which +had already swept midway across the plain. In the rear of the +approaching tempest, brightened forth again the sunny splendor, which +its progress had darkened with so terrible a frown. + +All round this majestic landscape, the bald-peaked or forest-crowned +mountains descended boldly upon the plain. On many of their spurs and +midway declivities, and even on their summits, stood cities, some of +them famous of old; for these had been the seats and nurseries of +early art, where the flower of beauty sprang out of a rocky soil, and +in a high, keen atmosphere, when the richest and most sheltered +gardens failed to nourish it. + +"Thank God for letting me again behold this scene!" Said the sculptor, +a devout man in his way, reverently taking off his hat. "I have +viewed it from many points, and never without as full a sensation of +gratitude as my heart seems capable of feeling. How it strengthens +the poor human spirit in its reliance on His providence, to ascend but +this little way above the common level, and so attain a somewhat wider +glimpse of His dealings with mankind! He doeth all things right! His +will be done!" + +"You discern something that is hidden from me," observed Donatello +gloomily, yet striving with unwonted grasp to catch the analogies +which so cheered his friend. "I see sunshine on one spot, and cloud +in another, and no reason for it in either ease. The sun on you; the +cloud on me! What comfort can I draw from this?" + +"Nay; I cannot preach," said Kenyon, "with a page of heaven and a page +of earth spread wide open before us! Only begin to read it, and you +will find it interpreting itself without the aid of words. It is a +great mistake to try to put our best thoughts into human language. +When we ascend into the higher regions of emotion and spiritual +enjoyment, they are only expressible by such grand hieroglyphics as +these around us." + +They stood awhile, contemplating the scene; but, as inevitably happens +after a spiritual flight, it was not long before the sculptor felt his +wings flagging in the rarity of the upper atmosphere. He was glad to +let himself quietly downward out of the mid-sky, as it were, and +alight on the solid platform of the battlemented tower. He looked +about him, and beheld growing out of the stone pavement, which formed +the roof, a little shrub, with green and glossy leaves. It was the +only green thing there; and Heaven knows how its seeds had ever been +planted, at that airy height, or how it had found nourishment for its +small life in the chinks of the stones; for it had no earth, and +nothing more like soil than the crumbling mortar, which had been +crammed into the crevices in a long-past age. + +Yet the plant seemed fond of its native site; and Donatello said it +had always grown there from his earliest remembrance, and never, he +believed, any smaller or any larger than they saw it now. + +"I wonder if the shrub teaches you any good lesson," said he, +observing the interest with which Kenyon examined it. "If the wide +valley has a great meaning, the plant ought to have at least a little +one; and it has been growing on our tower long enough to have learned +how to speak it." + +"O, certainly!" answered the sculptor; "the shrub has its moral, or it +would have perished long ago. And, no doubt, it is for your use and +edification, since you have had it before your eyes all your lifetime, +and now are moved to ask what may be its lesson." + +"It teaches me nothing," said the simple Donatello, stooping over the +plant, and perplexing himself with a minute scrutiny. "But here was a +worm that would have killed it; an ugly creature, which I will fling +over the battlements." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +ON THE BATTLEMENTS + + +The sculptor now looked through art embrasure, and threw down a bit of +lime, watching its fall, till it struck upon a stone bench at the +rocky foundation of the tower, and flew into many fragments. + +"Pray pardon me for helping Time to crumble away your ancestral walls," +said he. "But I am one of those persons who have a natural tendency +to climb heights, and to stand on the verge of them, measuring the +depth below. If I were to do just as I like, at this moment, I should +fling myself down after that bit of lime. It is a very singular +temptation, and all but irresistible; partly, I believe, because it +might be so easily done, and partly because such momentous +consequences would ensue, without my being compelled to wait a moment +for them. Have you never felt this strange impulse of an evil spirit +at your back, shoving you towards a precipice?" + +"Ah, no!" cried. Donatello, shrinking from the battlemented wall with +a face of horror. "I cling to life in a way which you cannot conceive; +it has been so rich, so warm, so sunny!--and beyond its verge, +nothing but the chilly dark! And then a fall from a precipice is such +an awful death!" + +"Nay; if it be a great height," said Kenyon, "a man would leave his +life in the air, and never feel the hard shock at the bottom." + +"That is not the way with this kind of death!" exclaimed Donatello, in +a low, horrorstricken voice, which grew higher and more full of +emotion as he proceeded. "Imagine a fellow creature,--breathing now, +and looking you in the face,--and now tumbling down, down, down, with +a long shriek wavering after him, all the way! He does not leave his +life in the air! No; but it keeps in him till he thumps against the +stones, a horribly long while; then he lies there frightfully quiet, a +dead heap of bruised flesh and broken bones! A quiver runs through +the crushed mass; and no more movement after that! No; not if you +would give your soul to make him stir a finger! Ah, terrible! Yes, +yes; I would fain fling myself down for the very dread of it, that I +might endure it once for all, and dream of it no morel" + +"How forcibly, how frightfully you conceive this!" said the sculptor, +aghast at the passionate horror which was betrayed in the Count's +words, and still more in his wild gestures and ghastly look. "Nay, if +the height of your tower affects your imagination thus, you do wrong +to trust yourself here in solitude, and in the night-time, and at all +unguarded hours. You are not safe in your chamber. It is but a step +or two; and what if a vivid dream should lead you up hither at +midnight, and act itself out as a reality!" + +Donatello had hidden his face in his hands, and was leaning against +the parapet. + +"No fear of that!" said he. "Whatever the dream may be, I am too +genuine a coward to act out my own death in it." + +The paroxysm passed away, and the two friends continued their +desultory talk, very much as if no such interruption had occurred. +Nevertheless, it affected the sculptor with infinite pity to see this +young man, who had been born to gladness as an assured heritage, now +involved in a misty bewilderment of grievous thoughts, amid which he +seemed to go staggering blindfold. Kenyon, not without an unshaped +suspicion of the definite fact, knew that his condition must have +resulted from the weight and gloom of life, now first, through the +agency of a secret trouble, making themselves felt on a character that +had heretofore breathed only an atmosphere of joy. The effect of this +hard lesson, upon Donatello's intellect and disposition, was very +striking. It was perceptible that he had already had glimpses of +strange and subtle matters in those dark caverns, into which all men +must descend, if they would know anything beneath the surface and +illusive pleasures of existence. And when they emerge, though dazzled +and blinded by the first glare of daylight, they take truer and sadder +views of life forever afterwards. + +From some mysterious source, as the sculptor felt assured, a soul had +been inspired into the young Count's simplicity, since their +intercourse in Rome. He now showed a far deeper sense, and an +intelligence that began to deal with high subjects, though in a feeble +and childish way. He evinced, too, a more definite and nobler +individuality, but developed out of grief and pain, and fearfully +conscious of the pangs that had given it birth. Every human life, if +it ascends to truth or delves down to reality, must undergo a similar +change; but sometimes, perhaps, the instruction comes without the +sorrow; and oftener the sorrow teaches no lesson that abides with us. +In Donatello's case, it was pitiful, and almost ludicrous, to observe +the confused struggle that he made; how completely he was taken by +surprise; how ill-prepared he stood, on this old battlefield of the +world, to fight with such an inevitable foe as mortal calamity, and +sin for its stronger ally. + +"And yet," thought Kenyon," the poor fellow bears himself like a hero, +too! If he would only tell me his trouble, or give me an opening to +speak frankly about it, I might help him; but he finds it too horrible +to be uttered, and fancies himself the only mortal that ever felt the +anguish of remorse. Yes; he believes that nobody ever endured his +agony before; so that--sharp enough in itself--it has all the +additional zest of a torture just invented to plague him individually." + +The sculptor endeavored to dismiss the painful subject from his mind; +and, leaning against the battlements, he turned his face southward and +westward, and gazed across the breadth of the valley. His thoughts +flew far beyond even those wide boundaries, taking an air-line from +Donatello's tower to another turret that ascended into the sky of the +summer afternoon, invisibly to him, above the roofs of distant Rome. +Then rose tumultuously into his consciousness that strong love for +Hilda, which it was his habit to confine in one of the heart's inner +chambers, because he had found no encouragement to bring it forward. +But now he felt a strange pull at his heart-strings. It could not +have been more perceptible, if all the way between these battlements +and Hilda's dove-cote had stretched an exquisitely sensitive cord, +which, at the hither end, was knotted with his aforesaid heart-strings, +and, at the remoter one, was grasped by a gentle hand. His breath +grew tremulous. He put his hand to his breast; so distinctly did he +seem to feel that cord drawn once, and again, and again, as if--though +still it was bashfully intimated there were an importunate demand for +his presence. O for the white wings of Hilda's doves, that he might, +have flown thither, and alighted at the Virgin's shrine! + +But lovers, and Kenyon knew it well, project so lifelike a copy of +their mistresses out of their own imaginations, that it can pull at +the heartstrings almost as perceptibly as the genuine original. No +airy intimations are to be trusted; no evidences of responsive +affection less positive than whispered and broken words, or tender +pressures of the hand, allowed and half returned; or glances, that +distil many passionate avowals into one gleam of richly colored light. +Even these should be weighed rigorously, at the instant; for, in +another instant, the imagination seizes on them as its property, and +stamps them with its own arbitrary value. But Hilda's maidenly +reserve had given her lover no such tokens, to be interpreted either +by his hopes or fears. + +"Yonder, over mountain and valley, lies Rome," said the sculptor; +"shall you return thither in the autumn?" + +"Never! I hate Rome," answered Donatello; "and have good cause." + +"And yet it was a pleasant winter that we spent there," observed +Kenyon, "and with pleasant friends about us. You would meet them +again there--all of them." + +"All?" asked Donatello. + +"All, to the best of my belief," said the sculptor: "but you need not +go to Rome to seek them. If there were one of those friends whose +lifetime was twisted with your own, I am enough of a fatalist to feel +assured that you will meet that one again, wander whither you may. +Neither can we escape the companions whom Providence assigns for us, +by climbing an old tower like this." + +"Yet the stairs are steep and dark," rejoined the Count; "none but +yourself would seek me here, or find me, if they sought." + +As Donatello did not take advantage of this opening which his friend +had kindly afforded him to pour out his hidden troubles, the latter +again threw aside the subject, and returned to the enjoyment of the +scene before him. The thunder-storm, which he had beheld striding +across the valley, had passed to the left of Monte Beni, and was +continuing its march towards the hills that formed the boundary on the +eastward. Above the whole valley, indeed, the sky was heavy with +tumbling vapors, interspersed with which were tracts of blue, vividly +brightened by the sun; but, in the east, where the tempest was yet +trailing its ragged skirts, lay a dusky region of cloud and sullen +mist, in which some of the hills appeared of a dark purple hue. +Others became so indistinct, that the spectator could not tell rocky +height from impalpable cloud. Far into this misty cloud region, +however,--within the domain of chaos, as it were,--hilltops were seen +brightening in the sunshine; they looked like fragments of the world, +broken adrift and based on nothingness, or like portions of a sphere +destined to exist, but not yet finally compacted. + +The sculptor, habitually drawing many of the images and illustrations +of his thoughts from the plastic art, fancied that the scene +represented the process of the Creator, when he held the new, +imperfect earth in his hand, and modelled it. + +"What a magic is in mist and vapor among the mountains!" he exclaimed. +"With their help, one single scene becomes a thousand. The cloud +scenery gives such variety to a hilly landscape that it would be worth +while to journalize its aspect from hour to hour. A cloud, however, +--as I have myself experienced,--is apt to grow solid and as heavy as +a stone the instant that you take in hand to describe it, But, in my +own heart, I have found great use in clouds. Such silvery ones as +those to the northward, for example, have often suggested +sculpturesque groups, figures, and attitudes; they are especially rich +in attitudes of living repose, which a sculptor only hits upon by the +rarest good fortune. When I go back to my dear native land, the +clouds along the horizon will be my only gallery of art!" + +"I can see cloud shapes, too," said Donatello; "yonder is one that +shifts strangely; it has been like people whom I knew. And now, if I +watch it a little longer, it will take the figure of a monk reclining, +with his cowl about his head and drawn partly over his face, and--well! +did I not tell you so?" + +"I think," remarked Kenyon, "we can hardly be gazing at the same cloud. +What I behold is a reclining figure, to be sure, but feminine, and +with a despondent air, wonderfully well expressed in the wavering +outline from head to foot. It moves my very heart by something +indefinable that it suggests." + +"I see the figure, and almost the face," said the Count; adding, in a +lower voice, "It is Miriam's!" + +"No, not Miriam's," answered the sculptor. While the two gazers thus +found their own reminiscences and presentiments floating among the +clouds, the day drew to its close, and now showed them the fair +spectacle of an Italian sunset. The sky was soft and bright, but not +so gorgeous as Kenyon had seen it, a thousand times, in America; for +there the western sky is wont to be set aflame with breadths and +depths of color with which poets seek in vain to dye their verses, and +which painters never dare to copy. As beheld from the tower of Monte +Beni, the scene was tenderly magnificent, with mild gradations of hue +and a lavish outpouring of gold, but rather such gold as we see on the +leaf of a bright flower than the burnished glow of metal from the mine. +Or, if metallic, it looked airy and unsubstantial, like the +glorified dreams of an alchemist. And speedily--more speedily than in +our own clime--came the twilight, and, brightening through its gray +transparency, the stars. + +A swarm of minute insects that had been hovering all day round the +battlements were now swept away by the freshness of a rising breeze. +The two owls in the chamber beneath Donatello's uttered their soft +melancholy cry,--which, with national avoidance of harsh sounds, +Italian owls substitute for the hoot of their kindred in other +countries,--and flew darkling forth among the shrubbery. A convent +bell rang out near at hand, and was not only echoed among the hills, +but answered by another bell, and still another, which doubtless had +farther and farther responses, at various distances along the valley; +for, like the English drumbeat around the globe, there is a chain of +convent bells from end to end, and crosswise, and in all possible +directions over priest-ridden Italy. + +"Come," said the sculptor, "the evening air grows cool. It is time to +descend." + +"Time for you, my friend," replied the Count; and he hesitated a +little before adding, "I must keep a vigil here for some hours longer. +It is my frequent custom to keep vigils,--and sometimes the thought +occurs to me whether it were not better to keep them in yonder convent, +the bell of which just now seemed to summon me. Should I do wisely, +do you think, to exchange this old tower for a cell?" + +"What! Turn monk?" exclaimed his friend. "A horrible idea!" + +"True," said Donatello, sighing. "Therefore, if at all, I purpose +doing it." + +"Then think of it no more, for Heaven's sake!" cried the sculptor. +"There are a thousand better and more poignant methods of being +miserable than that, if to be miserable is what you wish. Nay; I +question whether a monk keeps himself up to the intellectual and +spiritual height which misery implies. A monk I judge from their +sensual physiognomies, which meet me at every turn--is inevitably a +beast! Their souls, if they have any to begin with, perish out of +them, before their sluggish, swinish existence is half done. Better, +a million times, to stand star-gazing on these airy battlements, than +to smother your new germ of a higher life in a monkish cell!" + +"You make me tremble," said Donatello, "by your bold aspersion of men +who have devoted themselves to God's service!" + +"They serve neither God nor man, and themselves least of all, though +their motives be utterly selfish," replied Kenyon. "Avoid the convent, +my dear friend, as you would shun the death of the soul! But, for my +own part, if I had an insupportable burden,--if, for any cause, I were +bent upon sacrificing every earthly hope as a peace-offering towards +Heaven,--I would make the wide world my cell, and good deeds to +mankind my prayer. Many penitent men have done this, and found peace +in it." + +"Ah, but you are a heretic!" said the Count. + +Yet his face brightened beneath the stars; and, looking at it through +the twilight, the sculptor's remembrance went back to that scene in +the Capitol, where, both in features and expression, Donatello had +seemed identical with the Faun. And still there was a resemblance; +for now, when first the idea was suggested of living for the welfare +of his fellow-creatures, the original beauty, which sorrow had partly +effaced, came back elevated and spiritualized. In the black depths +the Faun had found a soul, and was struggling with it towards the +light of heaven. + +The illumination, it is true, soon faded out of Donatello's face. The +idea of lifelong and unselfish effort was too high to be received by +him with more than a momentary comprehension. An Italian, indeed, +seldom dreams of being philanthropic, except in bestowing alms among +the paupers, who appeal to his beneficence at every step; nor does it +occur to him that there are fitter modes of propitiating Heaven than +by penances, pilgrimages, and offerings at shrines. Perhaps, too, +their system has its share of moral advantages; they, at all events, +cannot well pride themselves, as our own more energetic benevolence is +apt to do, upon sharing in the counsels of Providence and kindly +helping out its otherwise impracticable designs. + +And now the broad valley twinkled with lights, that glimmered through +its duskiness like the fireflies in the garden of a Florentine palace. +A gleam of lightning from the rear of the tempest showed the +circumference of hills and the great space between, as the last +cannonflash of a retreating army reddens across the field where it has +fought. The sculptor was on the point of descending the turret stair, +when, somewhere in the darkness that lay beneath them, a woman's voice +was heard, singing a low, sad strain. + +"Hark!" said he, laying his hand on Donatello's arm. + +And Donatello had said "Hark!" at the same instant. + +The song, if song it could be called, that had only a wild rhythm, and +flowed forth in the fitful measure of a wind-harp, did not clothe +itself in the sharp brilliancy of the Italian tongue. The words, so +far as they could be distinguished, were German, and therefore +unintelligible to the Count, and hardly less so to the sculptor; being +softened and molten, as it were, into the melancholy richness of the +voice that sung them. It was as the murmur of a soul bewildered amid +the sinful gloom of earth, and retaining only enough memory of a +better state to make sad music of the wail, which would else have been +a despairing shriek. Never was there profounder pathos than breathed +through that mysterious voice; it brought the tears into the +sculptor's eyes, with remembrances and forebodings of whatever sorrow +he had felt or apprehended; it made Donatello sob, as chiming in with +the anguish that he found unutterable, and giving it the expression +which he vaguely sought. + +But, when the emotion was at its profoundest depth, the voice rose out +of it, yet so gradually that a gloom seemed to pervade it, far upward +from the abyss, and not entirely to fall away as it ascended into a +higher and purer region. At last, the auditors would have fancied +that the melody, with its rich sweetness all there, and much of its +sorrow gone, was floating around the very summit of the tower. + +"Donatello," said the sculptor, when there was silence again, "had +that voice no message for your ear?" + +"I dare not receive it," said Donatello; "the anguish of which it +spoke abides with me: the hope dies away with the breath that brought +it hither. It is not good for me to hear that voice." + +The sculptor sighed, and left the poor penitent keeping his vigil on +the tower. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +DONATELLO'S BUST + + +Kenyon, it will be remembered, had asked Donatello's permission to +model his bust. The work had now made considerable progress, and +necessarily kept the sculptor's thoughts brooding much and often upon +his host's personal characteristics. These it was his difficult +office to bring out from their depths, and interpret them to all men, +showing them what they could not discern for themselves, yet must be +compelled to recognize at a glance, on the surface of a block of +marble. + +He had never undertaken a portrait-bust which gave him so much trouble +as Donatello's; not that there was any special difficulty in hitting +the likeness, though even in this respect the grace and harmony of the +features seemed inconsistent with a prominent expression of +individuality; but he was chiefly perplexed how to make this genial +and kind type of countenance the index of the mind within. His +acuteness and his sympathies, indeed, were both somewhat at fault in +their efforts to enlighten him as to the moral phase through which the +Count was now passing. If at one sitting he caught a glimpse of what +appeared to be a genuine and permanent trait, it would probably be +less perceptible on a second occasion, and perhaps have vanished +entirely at a third. So evanescent a show of character threw the +sculptor into despair; not marble or clay, but cloud and vapor, was +the material in which it ought to be represented. Even the ponderous +depression which constantly weighed upon Donatello's heart could not +compel him into the kind of repose which the plastic art requires. + +Hopeless of a good result, Kenyon gave up all preconceptions about the +character of his subject, and let his hands work uncontrolled with the +clay, somewhat as a spiritual medium, while holding a pen, yields it +to an unseen guidance other than that of her own will. Now and then +he fancied that this plan was destined to be the successful one. A +skill and insight beyond his consciousness seemed occasionally to take +up the task. The mystery, the miracle, of imbuing an inanimate +substance with thought, feeling, and all the intangible attributes of +the soul, appeared on the verge of being wrought. And now, as he +flattered himself, the true image of his friend was about to emerge +from the facile material, bringing with it more of Donatello's +character than the keenest observer could detect at any one moment in +the face of the original Vain expectation!--some touch, whereby the +artist thought to improve or hasten the result, interfered with the +design of his unseen spiritual assistant, and spoilt the whole. There +was still the moist, brown clay, indeed, and the features of Donatello, +but without any semblance of intelligent and sympathetic life. + +"The difficulty will drive me mad, I verily believe!" cried the +sculptor nervously. "Look at the wretched piece of work yourself, my +dear friend, and tell me whether you recognize any manner of likeness +to your inner man?" + +"None," replied Donatello, speaking the simple truth. "It is like +looking a stranger in the face." + +This frankly unfavorable testimony so wrought with the sensitive +artist, that he fell into a passion with the stubborn image, and cared +not what might happen to it thenceforward. Wielding that wonderful +power which sculptors possess over moist clay, however refractory it +may show itself in certain respects, he compressed, elongated, widened, +and otherwise altered the features of the bust in mere recklessness, +and at every change inquired of the Count whether the expression +became anywise more satisfactory. + +"Stop!" cried Donatello at last, catching the sculptor's hand. "Let +it remain so!" By some accidental handling of the clay, entirely +independent of his own will, Kenyon had given the countenance a +distorted and violent look, combining animal fierceness with +intelligent hatred. Had Hilda, or had Miriam, seen the bust, with the +expression which it had now assumed, they might have recognized +Donatello's face as they beheld it at that terrible moment when he +held his victim over the edge of the precipice. + +"What have I done?" said the sculptor, shocked at his own casual +production. "It were a sin to let the clay which bears your features +harden into a look like that. Cain never wore an uglier one." + +"For that very reason, let it remain!" answered the Count, who had +grown pale as ashes at the aspect of his crime, thus strangely +presented to him in another of the many guises under which guilt +stares the criminal in the face. "Do not alter it! Chisel it, rather, +in eternal marble! I will set it up in my oratory and keep it +continually before my eyes. Sadder and more horrible is a face like +this, alive with my own crime, than the dead skull which my +forefathers handed down to me!" + +But, without in the least heeding Donatello's remonstrances, the +sculptor again applied his artful fingers to the clay, and compelled +the bust to dismiss the expression that had so startled them both. + +"Believe me," said he, turning his eyes upon his friend, full of grave +and tender sympathy, "you know not what is requisite for your +spiritual growth, seeking, as you do, to keep your soul perpetually in +the unwholesome region of remorse. It was needful for you to pass +through that dark valley, but it is infinitely dangerous to linger +there too long; there is poison in the atmosphere, when we sit down +and brood in it, instead of girding up our loins to press onward. Not +despondency, not slothful anguish, is what you now require,--but +effort! Has there been an unalterable evil in your young life? Then +crowd it out with good, or it will lie corrupting there forever, and +cause your capacity for better things to partake its noisome +corruption!" + +"You stir up many thoughts," said Donatello, pressing his hand upon +his brow, "but the multitude and the whirl of them make me dizzy." + +They now left the sculptor's temporary studio, without observing that +his last accidental touches, with which he hurriedly effaced the look +of deadly rage, had given the bust a higher and sweeter expression +than it had hitherto worn. It is to be regretted that Kenyon had not +seen it; for only an artist, perhaps, can conceive the irksomeness, +the irritation of brain, the depression of spirits, that resulted from +his failure to satisfy himself, after so much toil and thought as he +had bestowed on Donatello's bust. In case of success, indeed, all +this thoughtful toil would have been reckoned, not only as well +bestowed, but as among the happiest hours of his life; whereas, +deeming himself to have failed, it was just so much of life that had +better never have been lived; for thus does the good or ill result of +his labor throw back sunshine or gloom upon the artist's mind. The +sculptor, therefore, would have done well to glance again at his work; +for here were still the features of the antique Faun, but now +illuminated with a higher meaning, such as the old marble never bore. + +Donatello having quitted him, Kenyon spent the rest of the day +strolling about the pleasant precincts of Monte Beni, where the summer +was now so far advanced that it began, indeed, to partake of the ripe +wealth of autumn. Apricots had long been abundant, and had passed +away, and plums and cherries along with them. But now came great, +juicy pears, melting and delicious, and peaches of goodly size and +tempting aspect, though cold and watery to the palate, compared with +the sculptor's rich reminiscences of that fruit in America. The +purple figs had already enjoyed their day, and the white ones were +luscious now. The contadini (who, by this time, knew Kenyon well) +found many clusters of ripe grapes for him, in every little globe of +which was included a fragrant draught of the sunny Monte Beni wine. + +Unexpectedly, in a nook close by the farmhouse, he happened upon a +spot where the vintage had actually commenced. A great heap of early +ripened grapes had been gathered, and thrown into a mighty tub. In +the middle of it stood a lusty and jolly contadino, nor stood, merely, +but stamped with all his might, and danced amain; while the red juice +bathed his feet, and threw its foam midway up his brown and shaggy +legs. Here, then, was the very process that shows so picturesquely in +Scripture and in poetry, of treading out the wine-press and dyeing the +feet and garments with the crimson effusion as with the blood of a +battlefield. The memory of the process does not make the Tuscan wine +taste more deliciously. The contadini hospitably offered Kenyon a +sample of the new liquor, that had already stood fermenting for a day +or two. He had tried a similar draught, however, in years past, and +was little inclined to make proof of it again; for he knew that it +would be a sour and bitter juice, a wine of woe and tribulation, and +that the more a man drinks of such liquor, the sorrier he is likely to +be. + +The scene reminded the sculptor of our New England vintages, where the +big piles of golden and rosy apples lie under the orchard trees, in +the mild, autumnal sunshine; and the creaking cider-mill, set in +motion by a circumgyratory horse, is all a-gush with the luscious +juice. To speak frankly, the cider-making is the more picturesque +sight of the two, and the new, sweet cider an infinitely better drink +than the ordinary, unripe Tuscan wine. Such as it is, however, the +latter fills thousands upon thousands of small, flat barrels, and, +still growing thinner and sharper, loses the little life it had, as +wine, and becomes apotheosized as a more praiseworthy vinegar. + +Yet all these vineyard scenes, and the processes connected with the +culture of the grape, had a flavor of poetry about them. The toil +that produces those kindly gifts of nature which are not the substance +of life, but its luxury, is unlike other toil. We are inclined to +fancy that it does not bend the sturdy frame and stiffen the +overwrought muscles, like the labor that is devoted in sad, hard +earnest to raise grain for sour bread. Certainly, the sunburnt young +men and dark-cheeked, laughing girls, who weeded the rich acres of +Monte Beni, might well enough have passed for inhabitants of an +unsophisticated Arcadia. Later in the season, when the true vintage +time should come, and the wine of Sunshine gush into the vats, it was +hardly too wild a dream that Bacchus himself might revisit the haunts +which he loved of old. But, alas! where now would he find the Faun +with whom we see him consorting in so many an antique group? + +Donatello's remorseful anguish saddened this primitive and delightful +life. Kenyon had a pain of his own, moreover, although not all a pain, +in the never quiet, never satisfied yearning of his heart towards +Hilda. He was authorized to use little freedom towards that shy +maiden, even in his visions; so that he almost reproached himself when +sometimes his imagination pictured in detail the sweet years that they +might spend together, in a retreat like this. It had just that rarest +quality of remoteness from the actual and ordinary world B a +remoteness through which all delights might visit them freely, sifted +from all troubles--which lovers so reasonably insist upon, in their +ideal arrangements for a happy union. It is possible, indeed, that +even Donatello's grief and Kenyon's pale, sunless affection lent a +charm to Monte Beni, which it would not have retained amid a more +abundant joyousness. The sculptor strayed amid its vineyards and +orchards, its dells and tangled shrubberies, with somewhat the +sensations of an adventurer who should find his way to the site of +ancient Eden, and behold its loveliness through the transparency of +that gloom which has been brooding over those haunts of innocence ever +since the fall. Adam saw it in a brighter sunshine, but never knew +the shade of Pensive beauty which Eden won from his expulsion. + +It was in the decline of the afternoon that Kenyon returned from his +long, musing ramble, Old Tomaso--between whom and himself for some +time past there had been a mysterious understanding,--met him in the +entrance hall, and drew him a little aside. + +"The signorina would speak with you," he whispered. + +"In the chapel?" asked the sculptor. + +"No; in the saloon beyond it," answered the butler: "the entrance you +once saw the signorina appear through it is near the altar, hidden +behind the tapestry." + +Kenyon lost no time in obeying the summons. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +THE MARBLE SALOON + + +In an old Tuscan villa, a chapel ordinarily makes one among the +numerous apartments; though it often happens that the door is +permanently closed, the key lost, and the place left to itself, in +dusty sanctity, like that chamber in man's heart where he hides his +religious awe. This was very much the case with the chapel of Monte +Beni. One rainy day, however, in his wanderings through the great, +intricate house, Kenyon had unexpectedly found his way into it, and +been impressed by its solemn aspect. The arched windows, high upward +in the wall, and darkened with dust and cobweb, threw down a dim light +that showed the altar, with a picture of a martyrdom above, and some +tall tapers ranged before it. They had apparently been lighted, and +burned an hour or two, and been extinguished perhaps half a century +before. The marble vase at the entrance held some hardened mud at the +bottom, accruing from the dust that had settled in it during the +gradual evaporation of the holy water; and a spider (being an insect +that delights in pointing the moral of desolation and neglect) had +taken pains to weave a prodigiously thick tissue across the circular +brim. An old family banner, tattered by the moths, drooped from the +vaulted roof. In niches there were some mediaeval busts of +Donatello's forgotten ancestry; and among them, it might be, the +forlorn visage of that hapless knight between whom and the +fountain-nymph had occurred such tender love passages. + +Throughout all the jovial prosperity of Monte Beni, this one spot +within the domestic walls had kept itself silent, stern, and sad. +When the individual or the family retired from song and mirth, they +here sought those realities which men do not invite their festive +associates to share. And here, on the occasion above referred to, the +sculptor had discovered--accidentally, so far as he was concerned, +though with a purpose on her part--that there was a guest under +Donatello's roof, whose presence the Count did not suspect. An +interview had since taken place, and he was now summoned to another. + +He crossed the chapel, in compliance with Tomaso's instructions, and, +passing through the side entrance, found himself in a saloon, of no +great size, but more magnificent than he had supposed the villa to +contain. As it was vacant, Kenyon had leisure to pace it once or +twice, and examine it with a careless sort of scrutiny, before any +person appeared. + +This beautiful hall was floored with rich marbles, in artistically +arranged figures and compartments. The walls, likewise, were almost +entirely cased in marble of various kinds, the prevalent, variety +being giallo antico, intermixed with verd-antique, and others equally +precious. The splendor of the giallo antico, however, was what gave +character to the saloon; and the large and deep niches, apparently +intended for full length statues, along the walls, were lined with the +same costly material. Without visiting Italy, one can have no idea of +the beauty and magnificence that are produced by these fittings-up of +polished marble. Without such experience, indeed, we do not even know +what marble means, in any sense, save as the white limestone of which +we carve our mantelpieces. This rich hall of Monte Beni, moreover, +was adorned, at its upper end, with two pillars that seemed to consist +of Oriental alabaster; and wherever there was a space vacant of +precious and variegated marble, it was frescoed with ornaments in +arabesque. Above, there was a coved and vaulted ceiling, glowing with +pictured scenes, which affected Kenyon with a vague sense of splendor, +without his twisting his neck to gaze at them. + +It is one of the special excellences of such a saloon of polished and +richly colored marble, that decay can never tarnish it. Until the +house crumbles down upon it, it shines indestructibly, and, with a +little dusting, looks just as brilliant in its three hundredth year as +the day after the final slab of giallo antico was fitted into the wall. +To the sculptor, at this first View of it, it seemed a hall where +the sun was magically imprisoned, and must always shine. He +anticipated Miriam's entrance, arrayed in queenly robes, and beaming +with even more than the singular beauty that had heretofore +distinguished her. + +While this thought was passing through his mind, the pillared door, at +the upper end of the saloon, was partly opened, and Miriam appeared. +She was very pale, and dressed in deep mourning. As she advanced +towards the sculptor, the feebleness of her step was so apparent that +he made haste to meet her, apprehending that she might sink down on +the marble floor, without the instant support of his arm. + +But, with a gleam of her natural self-reliance, she declined his aid, +and, after touching her cold hand to his, went and sat down on one of +the cushioned divans that were ranged against the wall. + +"You are very ill, Miriam!" said Kenyon, much shocked at her +appearance. "I had not thought of this." + +"No; not so ill as I seem to you," she answered; adding despondently, +"yet I am ill enough, I believe, to die, unless some change speedily +occurs." + +"What, then, is your disorder?" asked the sculptor; "and what the +remedy?" + +"The disorder!" repeated Miriam. "There is none that I know of save +too much life and strength, without a purpose for one or the other. +It is my too redundant energy that is slowly--or perhaps +rapidly--wearing me away, because I can apply it to no use. The +object, which I am bound to consider my only one on earth, fails me +utterly. The sacrifice which I yearn to make of myself, my hopes, my +everything, is coldly put aside. Nothing is left for me but to brood, +brood, brood, all day, all night, in unprofitable longings and +repinings." + +"This is very sad, Miriam," said Kenyon. + +"Ay, indeed; I fancy so," she replied, with a short, unnatural laugh. + +"With all your activity of mind," resumed he, "so fertile in plans as +I have known you, can you imagine no method of bringing your resources +into play?" + +"My mind is not active any longer," answered Miriam, in a cold, +indifferent tone. "It deals with one thought and no more. One +recollection paralyzes it. It is not remorse; do not think it! I put +myself out of the question, and feel neither regret nor penitence on +my own behalf. But what benumbs me, what robs me of all power,- it is +no secret for a woman to tell a man, yet I care not though you know it, +--is the certainty that I am, and must ever be, an object of horror in +Donatello's sight." + +The sculptor--a young man, and cherishing a love which insulated him +from the wild experiences which some men gather--was startled to +perceive how Miriam's rich, ill-regulated nature impelled her to fling +herself, conscience and all, on one passion, the object of which +intellectually seemed far beneath her. + +"How have you obtained the certainty of which you speak?" asked he, +after a pause. + +"O, by a sure token," said Miriam; "a gesture, merely; a shudder, a +cold shiver, that ran through him one sunny morning when his hand +happened to touch mine! But it was enough." + +"I firmly believe, Miriam," said the sculptor, "that he loves you +still." + +She started, and a flush of color came tremulously over the paleness +of her cheek. + +"Yes," repeated Kenyon, "if my interest in Donatello--and in yourself, +Miriam--endows me with any true insight, he not only loves you still, +but with a force and depth proportioned to the stronger grasp of his +faculties, in their new development." + +"Do not deceive me," said Miriam, growing pale again. + +"Not for the world!" replied Kenyon. "Here is what I take to be the +truth. There was an interval, no doubt, when the horror of some +calamity, which I need not shape out in my conjectures, threw +Donatello into a stupor of misery. Connected with the first shock +there was an intolerable pain and shuddering repugnance attaching +themselves to all the circumstances and surroundings of the event that +so terribly affected him. Was his dearest friend involved within the +horror of that moment? He would shrink from her as he shrank most of +all from himself. But as his mind roused itself,--as it rose to a +higher life than he had hitherto experienced,--whatever had been true +and permanent within him revived by the selfsame impulse. So has it +been with his love." + +"But, surely," said Miriam, "he knows that I am here! Why, then, +except that I am odious to him, does he not bid me welcome?" + +"He is, I believe, aware of your presence here," answered the sculptor. +"Your song, a night or two ago, must have revealed it to him, and, +in truth, I had fancied that there was already a consciousness of it +in his mind. But, the more passionately he longs for your society, +the more religiously he deems himself bound to avoid it. The idea of +a lifelong penance has taken strong possession of Donatello. He +gropes blindly about him for some method of sharp self-torture, and +finds, of course, no other so efficacious as this." + +"But he loves me," repeated Miriam, in a low voice, to herself. "Yes; +he loves me!" + +It was strange to observe the womanly softness that came over her, as +she admitted that comfort into her bosom. The cold, unnatural +indifference of her manner, a kind of frozen passionateness which had +shocked and chilled the sculptor, disappeared. She blushed, and +turned away her eyes, knowing that there was more surprise and joy in +their dewy glances than any man save one ought to detect there. + +"In other respects," she inquired at length, "is he much changed?" + +"A wonderful process is going forward in Donatello's mind," answered +the sculptor. "The germs of faculties that have heretofore slept are +fast springing into activity. The world of thought is disclosing +itself to his inward sight. He startles me, at times, with his +perception of deep truths; and, quite as often, it must be owned, he +compels me to smile by the intermixture of his former simplicity with +a new intelligence. But he is bewildered with the revelations that +each day brings. Out of his bitter agony, a soul and intellect, I +could almost say, have been inspired into him." + +"Ah, I could help him here!" cried Miriam, clasping her hands. "And +how sweet a toil to bend and adapt my whole nature to do him good! To +instruct, to elevate, to enrich his mind with the wealth that would +flow in upon me, had I such a motive for acquiring it! Who else can +perform the task? Who else has the tender sympathy which he requires? +Who else, save only me,--a woman, a sharer in the same dread secret, +a partaker in one identical guilt,--could meet him on such terms of +intimate equality as the case demands? With this object before me, I +might feel a right to live! Without it, it is a shame for me to have +lived so long." + +"I fully agree with you," said Kenyon," that your true place is by his +side." + +"Surely it is," replied Miriam. "If Donatello is entitled to aught on +earth, it is to my complete self-sacrifice for his sake. It does not +weaken his claim, methinks, that my only prospect of happiness a +fearful word, however lies in the good that may accrue to him from our +intercourse. But he rejects me! He will not listen to the whisper of +his heart, telling him that she, most wretched, who beguiled him into +evil, might guide him to a higher innocence than that from which he +fell. How is this first great difficulty to be obviated?" + +"It lies at your own option, Miriam, to do away the obstacle, at any +moment," remarked the sculptor. "It is but to ascend Donatello's +tower, and you will meet him there, under the eye of God." + +"I dare not," answered Miriam. "No; I dare not!" + +"Do you fear," asked the sculptor, "the dread eye-witness whom I have +named?" + +"No; for, as far as I can see into that cloudy and inscrutable thing, +my heart, it has none but pure motives," replied Miriam. "But, my +friend, you little know what a weak or what a strong creature a woman +is! I fear not Heaven, in this case, at least, but--shall I confess +it? I am greatly in dread of Donatello. Once he shuddered at my +touch. If he shudder once again, or frown, I die!" + +Kenyon could not but marvel at the subjection into which this proud +and self-dependent woman had willfully flung herself, hanging her life +upon the chance of an angry or favorable regard from a person who, a +little while before, had seemed the plaything of a moment. But, in +Miriam's eyes, Donatello was always, thenceforth, invested with the +tragic dignity of their hour of crime; and, furthermore, the keen and +deep insight, with which her love endowed her, enabled her to know him +far better than he could be known by ordinary observation. Beyond all +question, since she loved him so, there was a force in Donatello +worthy of her respect and love. + +"You see my weakness," said Miriam, flinging out her hands, as a +person does when a defect is acknowledged, and beyond remedy. "What I +need, now, is an opportunity to show my strength." + +"It has occurred to me," Kenyon remarked, "that the time is come when +it may be desirable to remove Donatello from the complete seclusion in +which he buries himself. He has struggled long enough with one idea. +He now needs a variety of thought, which cannot be otherwise so +readily supplied to him, as through the medium of a variety of scenes. +His mind is awakened, now; his heart, though full of pain, is no +longer benumbed. They should have food and solace. If he linger here +much longer, I fear that he may sink back into a lethargy. The +extreme excitability, which circumstances have imparted to his moral +system, has its dangers and its advantages; it being one of the +dangers, that an obdurate scar may supervene upon its very tenderness. +Solitude has done what it could for him; now, for a while, let him be +enticed into the outer world." + +"What is your plan, then?" asked Miriam. + +"Simply," replied Kenyon, "to persuade Donatello to be my companion in +a ramble among these hills and valleys. The little adventures and +vicissitudes of travel will do him infinite good. After his recent +profound experience, he will re-create the world by the new eyes with +which he will regard it. He will escape, I hope, out of a morbid life, +and find his way into a healthy one." + +"And what is to be my part in this process?" inquired Miriam sadly, +and not without jealousy. "You are taking him from me, and putting +yourself, and all manner of living interests, into the place which I +ought to fill!" + +"It would rejoice me, Miriam, to yield the entire responsibility of +this office to yourself," answered the sculptor. "I do not pretend to +be the guide and counsellor whom Donatello needs; for, to mention no +other obstacle, I am a man, and between man and man there is always an +insuperable gulf. They can never quite grasp each other's hands; and +therefore man never derives any intimate help, any heart sustenance, +from his brother man, but from woman--his mother, his sister, or his +wife. Be Donatello's friend at need, therefore, and most gladly will +I resign him!" + +"It is not kind to taunt me thus," said Miriam. "I have told you that +I cannot do what you suggest, because I dare not." + +"Well, then," rejoined the sculptor, "see if there is any possibility +of adapting yourself to my scheme. The incidents of a journey often +fling people together in the oddest and therefore the most natural way. +Supposing you were to find yourself on the same route, a reunion +with Donatello might ensue, and Providence have a larger hand in it +than either of us." + +"It is not a hopeful plan," said Miriam, shaking her head, after a +moment's thought; "yet I will not reject it without a trial. Only in +case it fail, here is a resolution to which I bind myself, come what +come may! You know the bronze statue of Pope Julius in the great +square of Perugia? I remember standing in the shadow of that statue +one sunny noontime, and being impressed by its paternal aspect, and +fancying that a blessing fell upon me from its outstretched hand. +Ever since, I have had a superstition, you will call it foolish, but +sad and ill-fated persons always dream such things,--that, if I waited +long enough in that same spot, some good event would come to pass. +Well, my friend, precisely a fortnight after you begin your tour, +--unless we sooner meet,--bring Donatello, at noon, to the base of the +statue. You will find me there!" + +Kenyon assented to the proposed arrangement, and, after some +conversation respecting his contemplated line of travel, prepared to +take his leave. As he met Miriam's eyes, in bidding farewell, he was +surprised at the new, tender gladness that beamed out of them, and at +the appearance of health and bloom, which, in this little while, had +overspread her face.' + +"May I tell you, Miriam," said he, smiling, "that you are still as +beautiful as ever?" + +"You have a right to notice it," she replied, "for, if it be so, my +faded bloom has been revived by the hopes you give me. Do you, then, +think me beautiful? I rejoice, most truly. Beauty--if I possess +it--shall be one of the instruments by which I will try to educate and +elevate him, to whose good I solely dedicate myself." + +The sculptor had nearly reached the door, when, hearing her call him, +he turned back, and beheld Miriam still standing where he had left her, +in the magnificent hall which seemed only a fit setting for her +beauty. She beckoned him to return. + +"You are a man of refined taste," said she; "more than that,--a man of +delicate sensibility. Now tell me frankly, and on your honor! Have I +not shocked you many times during this interview by my betrayal of +woman's cause, my lack of feminine modesty, my reckless, passionate, +most indecorous avowal, that I live only in the life of one who, +perhaps, scorns and shudders at me?" + +Thus adjured, however difficult the point to which she brought him, +the sculptor was not a man to swerve aside from the simple truth. + +"Miriam," replied he, "you exaggerate the impression made upon my mind; +but it has been painful, and somewhat of the character which you +suppose." + +"I knew it," said Miriam, mournfully, and with no resentment. "What +remains of my finer nature would have told me so, even if it had not +been perceptible in all your manner. Well, my dear friend, when you +go back to Rome, tell Hilda what her severity has done! She was all +womanhood to me; and when she cast me off, I had no longer any terms +to keep with the reserves and decorums of my sex. Hilda has set me +free! Pray tell her so, from Miriam, and thank her!" + +"I shall tell Hilda nothing that will give her pain," answered Kenyon. +"But, Miriam, though I know not what passed between her and yourself, +I feel,--and let the noble frankness of your disposition forgive me if +I say so,--I feel that she was right. You have a thousand admirable +qualities. Whatever mass of evil may have fallen into your life, +--pardon me, but your own words suggest it,--you are still as capable +as ever of many high and heroic virtues. But the white shining purity +of Hilda's nature is a thing apart; and she is bound, by the undefiled +material of which God moulded her, to keep that severity which I, as +well as you, have recognized." + +"O, you are right!" said Miriam; "I never questioned it; though, as I +told you, when she cast me off, it severed some few remaining bonds +between me and decorous womanhood. But were there anything to forgive, +I do forgive her. May you win her virgin heart; for methinks there +can be few men in this evil world who are not more unworthy of her +than yourself." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +SCENES BY THE WAY + + +When it came to the point of quitting the reposeful life of Monte Beni, +the sculptor was not without regrets, and would willingly have +dreamed a little longer of the sweet paradise on earth that Hilda's +presence there might make. Nevertheless, amid all its repose, he had +begun to be sensible of a restless melancholy, to which the +cultivators of the ideal arts are more liable than sturdier men. On +his own part, therefore, and leaving Donatello out of the case, he +would have judged it well to go. He made parting visits to the +legendary dell, and to other delightful spots with which he had grown +familiar; he climbed the tower again, and saw a sunset and a moonrise +over the great valley; he drank, on the eve of his departure, one +flask, and then another, of the Monte Beni Sunshine, and stored up its +flavor in his memory as the standard of what is exquisite in wine. +These things accomplished, Kenyon was ready for the journey. + +Donatello had not very easily been stirred out of the peculiar +sluggishness, which enthralls and bewitches melancholy people. He had +offered merely a passive resistance, however, not an active one, to +his friend's schemes; and when the appointed hour came, he yielded to +the impulse which Kenyon failed not to apply; and was started upon the +journey before he had made up his mind to undertake it. They wandered +forth at large, like two knights-errant, among the valleys, and the +mountains, and the old mountain towns of that picturesque and lovely +region. Save to keep the appointment with Miriam, a fortnight +thereafter, in the great square of Perugia, there was nothing more +definite in the sculptor's plan than that they should let themselves +be blown hither and thither like Winged seeds, that mount upon each +wandering breeze. Yet there was an idea of fatality implied in the +simile of the winged seeds which did not altogether suit Kenyon's +fancy; for, if you look closely into the matter, it will be seen that +whatever appears most vagrant, and utterly purposeless, turns out, in +the end, to have been impelled the most surely on a preordained and +unswerving track. Chance and change love to deal with men's settled +plans, not with their idle vagaries. If we desire unexpected and +unimaginable events, we should contrive an iron framework, such as we +fancy may compel the future to take one inevitable shape; then comes +in the unexpected, and shatters our design in fragments. + +The travellers set forth on horseback, and purposed to perform much of +their aimless journeyings under the moon, and in the cool of the +morning or evening twilight; the midday sun, while summer had hardly +begun to trail its departing skirts over Tuscany, being still too +fervid to allow of noontide exposure. + +For a while, they wandered in that same broad valley which Kenyon had +viewed with such delight from the Monte Beni tower. The sculptor soon +began to enjoy the idle activity of their new life, which the lapse of +a day or two sufficed to establish as a kind of system; it is so +natural for mankind to be nomadic, that a very little taste of that +primitive mode of existence subverts the settled habits of many +preceding years. Kenyon's cares, and whatever gloomy ideas before +possessed him, seemed to be left at Monte Beni, and were scarcely +remembered by the time that its gray tower grew undistinguishable on +the brown hillside. His perceptive faculties, which had found little +exercise of late, amid so thoughtful a way of life, became keen, and +kept his eyes busy with a hundred agreeable scenes. + +He delighted in the picturesque bits of rustic character and manners, +so little of which ever comes upon the surface of our life at home. +There, for example, were the old women, tending pigs or sheep by the +wayside. As they followed the vagrant steps of their charge, these +venerable ladies kept spinning yarn with that elsewhere forgotten +contrivance, the distaff; and so wrinkled and stern looking were they, +that you might have taken them for the Parcae, spinning the threads of +human destiny. In contrast with their great-grandmothers were the +children, leading goats of shaggy beard, tied by the horns, and +letting them browse on branch and shrub. It is the fashion of Italy +to add the petty industry of age and childhood to the hum of human +toil. To the eyes of an observer from the Western world, it was a +strange spectacle to see sturdy, sunburnt creatures, in petticoats, +but otherwise manlike, toiling side by side with male laborers, in the +rudest work of the fields. These sturdy women (if as such we must +recognize them) wore the high-crowned, broad brimmed hat of Tuscan +straw, the customary female head-apparel; and, as every breeze blew +back its breadth of brim, the sunshine constantly added depth to the +brown glow of their cheeks. The elder sisterhood, however, set off +their witch-like ugliness to the worst advantage with black felt hats, +bequeathed them, one would fancy, by their long-buried husbands. + +Another ordinary sight, as sylvan as the above and more agreeable, was +a girl, bearing on her back a huge bundle of green twigs and shrubs, +or grass, intermixed with scarlet poppies and blue flowers; the +verdant burden being sometimes of such size as to hide the bearer's +figure, and seem a self-moving mass of fragrant bloom and verdure. +Oftener, however, the bundle reached only halfway down the back of the +rustic nymph, leaving in sight her well-developed lower limbs, and the +crooked knife, hanging behind her, with which she had been reaping +this strange harvest sheaf. A pre-Raphaelite artist (he, for instance, +who painted so marvellously a wind-swept heap of autumnal leaves) +might find an admirable subject in one of these Tuscan girls, stepping +with a free, erect, and graceful carriage. The miscellaneous herbage +and tangled twigs and blossoms of her bundle, crowning her head (while +her ruddy, comely face looks out between the hanging side festoons +like a larger flower), would give the painter boundless scope for the +minute delineation which he loves. + +Though mixed up with what was rude and earthlike, there was still a +remote, dreamlike, Arcadian charm, which is scarcely to be found in +the daily toil of other lands. Among the pleasant features of the +wayside were always the vines, clambering on fig-trees, or other +sturdy trunks; they wreathed themselves in huge and rich festoons from +one tree to another, suspending clusters of ripening grapes in the +interval between. Under such careless mode of culture, the luxuriant +vine is a lovelier spectacle than where it produces a more precious +liquor, and is therefore more artificially restrained and trimmed. +Nothing can be more picturesque than an old grapevine, with almost a +trunk of its own, clinging fast around its supporting tree. Nor does +the picture lack its moral. You might twist it to more than one grave +purpose, as you saw how the knotted, serpentine growth imprisoned +within its strong embrace the friend that had supported its tender +infancy; and how (as seemingly flexible natures are prone to do) it +converted the sturdier tree entirely to its own selfish ends, +extending its innumerable arms on every bough, and permitting hardly a +leaf to sprout except its own. It occurred to Kenyon, that the +enemies of the vine, in his native land, might here have seen an +emblem of the remorseless gripe, which the habit of vinous enjoyment +lays upon its victim, possessing him wholly, and letting him live no +life but such as it bestows. + +The scene was not less characteristic when their path led the two +wanderers through some small, ancient town. There, besides the +peculiarities of present life, they saw tokens of the life that had +long ago been lived and flung aside. The little town, such as we see +in our mind's eye, would have its gate and its surrounding walls, so +ancient and massive that ages had not sufficed to crumble them away; +but in the lofty upper portion of the gateway, still standing over the +empty arch, where there was no longer a gate to shut, there would be a +dove-cote, and peaceful doves for the only warders. Pumpkins lay +ripening in the open chambers of the structure. Then, as for the town +wall, on the outside an orchard extends peacefully along its base, +full, not of apple-trees, but of those old humorists with gnarled +trunks and twisted boughs, the olives. Houses have been built upon +the ramparts, or burrowed out of their ponderous foundation. Even the +gray, martial towers, crowned with ruined turrets, have been converted +into rustic habitations, from the windows of which hang ears of Indian +corn. At a door, that has been broken through the massive stonework +where it was meant to be strongest, some contadini are winnowing grain. +Small windows, too, are pierced through the whole line of ancient +wall, so that it seems a row of dwellings with one continuous front, +built in a strange style of needless strength; but remnants of the old +battlements and machicolations are interspersed with the homely +chambers and earthen-tiled housetops; and all along its extent both +grapevines and running flower-shrubs are encouraged to clamber and +sport over the roughness of its decay. + +Finally the long grass, intermixed with weeds and wild flowers, waves +on the uppermost height of the shattered rampart; and it is +exceedingly pleasant in the golden sunshine of the afternoon to behold +the warlike precinct so friendly in its old days, and so overgrown +with rural peace. In its guard rooms, its prison chambers, and +scooped out of its ponderous breadth, there are dwellings nowadays +where happy human lives are spent. Human parents and broods of +children nestle in them, even as the swallows nestle in the little +crevices along the broken summit of the wall. + +Passing through the gateway of this same little town, challenged only +by those watchful sentinels, the pigeons, we find ourselves in a long, +narrow street, paved from side to side with flagstones, in the old +Roman fashion. Nothing can exceed the grim ugliness of the houses, +most of which are three or four stories high, stone built, gray, +dilapidated, or half-covered with plaster in patches, and contiguous +all along from end to end of the town. Nature, in the shape of tree, +shrub, or grassy sidewalk, is as much shut out from the one street of +the rustic village as from the heart of any swarming city. The dark +and half ruinous habitations, with their small windows, many of which +are drearily closed with wooden shutters, are but magnified hovels, +piled story upon story, and squalid with the grime that successive +ages have left behind them. It would be a hideous scene to +contemplate in a rainy day, or when no human life pervaded it. In the +summer noon, however, it possesses vivacity enough to keep itself +cheerful; for all the within-doors of the village then bubbles over +upon the flagstones, or looks out from the small windows, and from +here and there a balcony. Some of the populace are at the butcher's +shop; others are at the fountain, which gushes into a marble basin +that resembles an antique sarcophagus. A tailor is sewing before his +door with a young priest seated sociably beside him; a burly friar +goes by with an empty wine-barrel on his head; children are at play; +women, at their own doorsteps, mend clothes, embroider, weave hats of +Tuscan straw, or twirl the distaff. Many idlers, meanwhile, strolling +from one group to another, let the warm day slide by in the sweet, +interminable task of doing nothing. + +From all these people there comes a babblement that seems quite +disproportioned to the number of tongues that make it. So many words +are not uttered in a New England village throughout the year--except +it be at a political canvass or town-meeting--as are spoken here, with +no especial purpose, in a single day. Neither so many words, nor so +much laughter; for people talk about nothing as if they were terribly +in earnest, and make merry at nothing as if it were the best of all +possible jokes. In so long a time as they have existed, and within +such narrow precincts, these little walled towns are brought into a +closeness of society that makes them but a larger household. All the +inhabitants are akin to each, and each to all; they assemble in the +street as their common saloon, and thus live and die in a familiarity +of intercourse, such as never can be known where a village is open at +either end, and all roundabout, and has ample room within itself. + +Stuck up beside the door of one house, in this village street, is a +withered bough; and on a stone seat, just under the shadow of the +bough, sits a party of jolly drinkers, making proof of the new wine, +or quaffing the old, as their often-tried and comfortable friend. +Kenyon draws bridle here (for the bough, or bush, is a symbol of the +wine-shop at this day in Italy, as it was three hundred years ago in +England), and calls for a goblet of the deep, mild, purple juice, well +diluted with water from the fountain. The Sunshine of Monte Beni +would be welcome now. Meanwhile, Donatello has ridden onward, but +alights where a shrine, with a burning lamp before it, is built into +the wall of an inn stable. He kneels and crosses himself, and mutters +a brief prayer, without attracting notice from the passers-by, many of +whom are parenthetically devout in a similar fashion. By this time +the sculptor has drunk off his wine-and-water, and our two travellers +resume their way, emerging from the opposite gate of the village. + +Before them, again, lies the broad valley, with a mist so thinly +scattered over it as to be perceptible only in the distance, and most +so in the nooks of the hills. Now that we have called it mist, it +seems a mistake not rather to have called it sunshine; the glory of so +much light being mingled with so little gloom, in the airy material of +that vapor. Be it mist or sunshine, it adds a touch of ideal beauty +to the scene, almost persuading the spectator that this valley and +those hills are visionary, because their visible atmosphere is so like +the substance of a dream. + +Immediately about them, however, there were abundant tokens that the +country was not really the paradise it looked to be, at a casual +glance. Neither the wretched cottages nor the dreary farmhouses +seemed to partake of the prosperity, with which so kindly a climate, +and so fertile a portion of Mother Earth's bosom, should have filled +them, one and all. But possibly the peasant inhabitants do not exist +in so grimy a poverty, and in homes so comfortless, as a stranger, +with his native ideas of those matters, would be likely to imagine. +The Italians appear to possess none of that emulative pride which we +see in our New England villages, where every householder, according to +his taste and means, endeavors to make his homestead an ornament to +the grassy and elm-shadowed wayside. In Italy there are no neat +doorsteps and thresholds; no pleasant, vine-sheltered porches; none of +those grass-plots or smoothly shorn lawns, which hospitably invite the +imagination into the sweet domestic interiors of English life. +Everything, however sunny and luxuriant may be the scene around, is +especially disheartening in the immediate neighborhood of an Italian +home. + +An artist, it is true, might often thank his stars for those old +houses, so picturesquely timestained, and with the plaster falling in +blotches from the ancient brick-work. The prison-like, iron-barred +windows, and the wide arched, dismal entrance, admitting on one hand +to the stable, on the other to the kitchen, might impress him as far +better worth his pencil than the newly painted pine boxes, in +which--if he be an American--his countrymen live and thrive. But +there is reason to suspect that a people are waning to decay and ruin +the moment that their life becomes fascinating either in the poet's +imagination or the painter's eye. + +As usual on Italian waysides, the wanderers passed great, black +crosses, hung with all the instruments of the sacred agony and passion: +there were the crown of thorns, the hammer and nails, the pincers, +the spear, the sponge; and perched over the whole, the cock that +crowed to St. Peter's remorseful conscience. Thus, while the fertile +scene showed the never-failing beneficence of the Creator towards man +in his transitory state, these symbols reminded each wayfarer of the +Saviour's infinitely greater love for him as an immortal spirit. +Beholding these consecrated stations, the idea seemed to strike +Donatello of converting the otherwise aimless journey into a +penitential pilgrimage. At each of them he alighted to kneel and kiss +the cross, and humbly press his forehead against its foot; and this so +invariably, that the sculptor soon learned to draw bridle of his own +accord. It may be, too, heretic as he was, that Kenyon likewise put +up a prayer, rendered more fervent by the symbols before his eyes, for +the peace of his friend's conscience and the pardon of the sin that so +oppressed him. + +Not only at the crosses did Donatello kneel, but at each of the many +shrines, where the Blessed Virgin in fresco--faded with sunshine and +half washed out with showers--looked benignly at her worshipper; or +where she was represented in a wooden image, or a bas-relief of +plaster or marble, as accorded with the means of the devout person who +built, or restored from a mediaeval antiquity, these places of wayside +worship. They were everywhere: under arched niches, or in little +penthouses with a brick tiled roof just large enough to shelter them; +or perhaps in some bit of old Roman masonry, the founders of which had +died before the Advent; or in the wall of a country inn or farmhouse; +or at the midway point of a bridge; or in the shallow cavity of a +natural rock; or high upward in the deep cuts of the road. It +appeared to the sculptor that Donatello prayed the more earnestly and +the more hopefully at these shrines, because the mild face of the +Madonna promised him to intercede as a tender mother betwixt the poor +culprit and the awfulness of judgment. + +It was beautiful to observe, indeed, how tender was the soul of man +and woman towards the Virgin mother, in recognition of the tenderness +which, as their faith taught them, she immortally cherishes towards +all human souls. In the wire-work screen 'before each shrine hung +offerings of roses, or whatever flower was sweetest and most +seasonable; some already wilted and withered, some fresh with that +very morning's dewdrops. Flowers there were, too, that, being +artificial, never bloomed on earth, nor would ever fade. The thought +occurred to Kenyon, that flower-pots with living plants might be set +within the niches, or even that rose-trees, and all kinds of flowering +shrubs, might be reared under the shrines, and taught to twine and +wreathe themselves around; so that the Virgin should dwell within a +bower of verdure, bloom, and fragrant freshness, symbolizing a homage +perpetually new. There are many things in the religious customs of +these people that seem good; many things, at least, that might be both +good and beautiful, if the soul of goodness and the sense of beauty +were as much alive in the Italians now as they must have been when +those customs were first imagined and adopted. But, instead of +blossoms on the shrub, or freshly gathered, with the dewdrops on their +leaves, their worship, nowadays, is best symbolized by the artificial +flower. + +The sculptor fancied, moreover (but perhaps it was his heresy that +suggested the idea), that it would be of happy influence to place a +comfortable and shady seat beneath every wayside shrine. Then the +weary and sun-scorched traveller, while resting himself under her +protecting shadow, might thank the Virgin for her hospitality. Nor, +perchance, were he to regale himself, even in such a consecrated spot, +with the fragrance of a pipe, would it rise to heaven more offensively +than the smoke of priestly incense. We do ourselves wrong, and too +meanly estimate the Holiness above us, when we deem that any act or +enjoyment, good in itself, is not good to do religiously. + +Whatever may be the iniquities of the papal system, it was a wise and +lovely sentiment that set up the frequent shrine and cross along the +roadside. No wayfarer, bent on whatever worldly errand, can fail to +be reminded, at every mile or two, that this is not the business which +most concerns him. The pleasure-seeker is silently admonished to look +heavenward for a joy infinitely greater than he now possesses. The +wretch in temptation beholds the cross, and is warned that, if he +yield, the Saviour's agony for his sake will have been endured in vain. +The stubborn criminal, whose heart has long been like a stone, feels +it throb anew with dread and hope; and our poor Donatello, as he went +kneeling from shrine to cross, and from cross to shrine, doubtless +found an efficacy in these symbols that helped him towards a higher +penitence. + +Whether the young Count of Monte Beni noticed the fact, or no, there +was more than one incident of their journey that led Kenyon to believe +that they were attended, or closely followed, or preceded, near at +hand, by some one who took an interest in their motions. As it were, +the step, the sweeping garment, the faintly heard breath, of an +invisible companion, was beside them, as they went on their way. It +was like a dream that had strayed out of their slumber, and was +haunting them in the daytime, when its shadowy substance could have +neither density nor outline, in the too obtrusive light. After sunset, +it grew a little more distinct. + +"On the left of that last shrine," asked the sculptor, as they rode, +under the moon, "did you observe the figure of a woman kneeling, with +her, face hidden in her hands?" + +"I never looked that way," replied Donatello. "I was saying my own +prayer. It was some penitent, perchance. May the Blessed Virgin be +the more gracious to the poor soul, because she is a woman." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +PICTURED WINDOWS + + +After wide wanderings through the valley, the two travellers directed +their course towards its boundary of hills. Here, the natural scenery +and men's modifications of it immediately took a different aspect from +that of the fertile and smiling plain. Not unfrequently there was a +convent on the hillside; or, on some insulated promontory, a mined +castle, once the den of a robber chieftain, who was accustomed to dash +down from his commanding height upon the road that wound below. For +ages back, the old fortress had been flinging down its crumbling +ramparts, stone by stone, towards the grimy village at its foot. + +Their road wound onward among the hills, which rose steep and lofty +from the scanty level space that lay between them. They continually +thrust their great bulks before the wayfarers, as if grimly resolute +to forbid their passage, or closed abruptly behind them, when they +still dared to proceed. A gigantic hill would set its foot right down +before them, and only at the last moment would grudgingly withdraw it, +just far enough to let them creep towards another obstacle. Adown +these rough heights were visible the dry tracks of many a mountain +torrent that had lived a life too fierce and passionate to be a long +one. Or, perhaps, a stream was yet hurrying shyly along the edge of a +far wider bed of pebbles and shelving rock than it seemed to need, +though not too wide for the swollen rage of which this shy rivulet was +capable. A stone bridge bestrode it, the ponderous arches of which +were upheld and rendered indestructible by the weight of the very +stones that threatened to crush them down. Old Roman toil was +perceptible in the foundations of that massive bridge; the first +weight that it ever bore was that of an army of the Republic. + +Threading these defiles, they would arrive at some immemorial city, +crowning the high summit of a hill with its cathedral, its many +churches, and public edifices, all of Gothic architecture. With no +more level ground than a single piazza in the midst, the ancient town +tumbled its crooked and narrow streets down the mountainside, through +arched passages and by steps of stone. The aspect of everything was +awfully old; older, indeed, in its effect on the imagination than Rome +itself, because history does not lay its finger on these forgotten +edifices and tell us all about their origin. Etruscan princes may +have dwelt in them. A thousand years, at all events, would seem but a +middle age for these structures. They are built of such huge, square +stones, that their appearance of ponderous durability distresses the +beholder with the idea that they can never fall,--never crumble away, +--never be less fit than now for human habitation. Many of them may +once have been palaces, and still retain a squalid grandeur. But, +gazing at them, we recognize how undesirable it is to build the +tabernacle of our brief lifetime out of permanent materials, and with +a view to their being occupied by future 'generations. + +All towns should be made capable of purification by fire, or of decay, +within each half-century. Otherwise, they become the hereditary +haunts of vermin and noisomeness, besides standing apart from the +possibility of such improvements as are constantly introduced into the +rest of man's contrivances and accommodations. It is beautiful, no +doubt, and exceedingly satisfactory to some of our natural instincts, +to imagine our far posterity dwelling under the same roof-tree as +ourselves. Still, when people insist on building indestructible +houses, they incur, or their children do, a misfortune analogous to +that of the Sibyl, when she obtained the grievous boon of immortality. +So we may build almost immortal habitations, it is true; but we +cannot keep them from growing old, musty, unwholesome, dreary,--full +of death scents, ghosts, and murder stains; in short, such habitations +as one sees everywhere in Italy, be they hovels or palaces. + +"You should go with me to my native country," observed the sculptor to +Donatello. "In that fortunate land, each generation has only its own +sins and sorrows to bear. Here, it seems as if all the weary and +dreary Past were piled upon the back of the Present. If I were to +lose my spirits in this country,--if I were to suffer any heavy +misfortune here,--methinks it would be impossible to stand up against +it, under such adverse influences." + +"The sky itself is an old roof, now," answered the Count; "and, no +doubt, the sins of mankind have made it gloomier than it used to be." +"O, my poor Faun," thought Kenyon to himself, "how art thou changed!" + +A city, like this of which we speak, seems a sort of stony growth out +of the hillside, or a fossilized town; so ancient and strange it looks, +without enough of life and juiciness in it to be any longer +susceptible of decay. An earthquake would afford it the only chance +of being ruined, beyond its present ruin. + +Yet, though dead to all the purposes for which we live to-day, the +place has its glorious recollections, and not merely rude and warlike +ones, but those of brighter and milder triumphs, the fruits of which +we still enjoy. Italy can count several of these lifeless towns which, +four or five hundred years ago, were each the birthplace of its own +school of art; nor have they yet forgotten to be proud of the dark old +pictures, and the faded frescos, the pristine beauty of which was a +light and gladness to the world. But now, unless one happens to be a +painter, these famous works make us miserably desperate. They are +poor, dim ghosts of what, when Giotto or Cimabue first created them, +threw a splendor along the stately aisles; so far gone towards +nothingness, in our day, that scarcely a hint of design or expression +can glimmer through the dusk. Those early artists did well to paint +their frescos. Glowing on the church-walls, they might be looked upon +as symbols of the living spirit that made Catholicism a true religion, +and that glorified it as long as it retained a genuine life; they +filled the transepts with a radiant throng of saints and angels, and +threw around the high altar a faint reflection--as much as mortals +could see, or bear--of a Diviner Presence. But now that the colors +are so wretchedly bedimmed,--now that blotches of plastered wall dot +the frescos all over, like a mean reality thrusting itself through +life's brightest illusions,--the next best artist to Cimabue or Giotto +or Ghirlandaio or Pinturicchio will be he that shall reverently cover +their ruined masterpieces with whitewash! + +Kenyon, however, being an earnest student and critic of Art, lingered +long before these pathetic relics; and Donatello, in his present phase +of penitence, thought no time spent amiss while he could be kneeling +before an altar. Whenever they found a cathedral, therefore, or a +Gothic church, the two travellers were of one mind to enter it. In +some of these holy edifices they saw pictures that time had not dimmed +nor injured in the least, though they perhaps belonged to as old a +school of Art as any that were perishing around them. These were the +painted windows; and as often as he gazed at them the sculptor blessed +the medieval time, and its gorgeous contrivances of splendor; for +surely the skill of man has never accomplished, nor his mind imagined, +any other beauty or glory worthy to be compared with these. + +It is the special excellence of pictured glass, that the light, which +falls merely on the outside of other pictures, is here interfused +throughout the work; it illuminates the design, and invests it with a +living radiance; and in requital the unfading colors transmute the +common daylight into a miracle of richness and glory in its passage +through the heavenly substance of the blessed and angelic shapes which +throng the high-arched window. + +"It is a woeful thing," cried Kenyon, while one of these frail yet +enduring and fadeless pictures threw its hues on his face, and on the +pavement of the church around him,--"a sad necessity that any +Christian soul should pass from earth without once seeing an antique +painted window, with the bright Italian sunshine glowing through it! +There is no other such true symbol of the glories of the better world, +where a celestial radiance will be inherent in all things and persons, +and render each continually transparent to the sight of all." + +"But what a horror it would be," said Donatello sadly, "if there were +a soul among them through which the light could not be transfused!" + +"Yes; and perhaps this is to be the punishment of sin," replied the +sculptor; "not that it shall be made evident to the universe, which +can profit nothing by such knowledge, but that it shall insulate the +sinner from all sweet sodety by rendering him impermeable to light, +and, therefore, unrecognizable in the abode of heavenly simplicity and +truth. Then, what remains for him, but the dreariness of infinite and +eternal solitude?" + +"That would be a horrible destiny, indeed!" said Donatello. + +His voice as he spoke the words had a hollow and dreary cadence, as if +he anticipated some such frozen solitude for himself. A figure in a +dark robe was lurking in the obscurity of a side chapel close by, and +made an impulsive movement forward, but hesitated as Donatello spoke +again. + +"But there might be a more miserable torture than to be solitary +forever," said he. "Think of having a single companion in eternity, +and instead of finding any consolation, or at all events variety of +torture, to see your own weary, weary sin repeated in that inseparable +soul." + +"I think, my dear Count, you have never read Dante," observed Kenyon. +"That idea is somewhat in his style, but I cannot help regretting that +it came into your mind just then." + +The dark-robed figure had shrunk back, and was quite lost to sight +among the shadows of the chapel. + +"There was an English poet," resumed Kenyon, turning again towards the +window, "who speaks of the 'dim, religious light,' transmitted through +painted glass. I always admired this richly descriptive phrase; but, +though he was once in Italy, I question whether Milton ever saw any +but the dingy pictures in the dusty windows of English cathedrals, +imperfectly shown by the gray English daylight. He would else have +illuminated that word 'dim' with some epithet that should not chase +away the dimness, yet should make it glow like a million of rubies, +sapphires, emeralds, and topazes. Is it not so with yonder window? +The pictures are most brilliant in themselves, yet dim with tenderness +and reverence, because God himself is shining through them." + +"The pictures fill me with emotion, but not such as you seem to +experience," said Donatello. "I tremble at those awful saints; and, +most of all, at the figure above them. He glows with Divine wrath!" + +"My dear friend," said Kenyon, "how strangely your eyes have +transmuted the expression of the figure! It is divine love, not wrath!" + +"To my eyes," said Donatello stubbornly, "it is wrath, not love! Each +must interpret for himself." + +The friends left the church, and looking up, from the exterior, at the +window which they had just been contemplating within, nothing; was +visible but the merest outline of dusky shapes, Neither the individual +likeness of saint, angel, nor Saviour, and far less the combined +scheme and purport of the picture, could anywise be made out. That +miracle of radiant art, thus viewed, was nothing better than an +incomprehensible obscurity, without a gleam of beauty to induce the +beholder to attempt unravelling it. + +"All this," thought the sculptor, "is a most forcible emblem of the +different aspect of religious truth and sacred story, as viewed from +the warm interior of belief, or from its cold and dreary outside. +Christian faith is a grand cathedral, with divinely pictured windows. +Standing without, you see no glory, nor can possibly imagine any; +standing within, every ray of light reveals a harmony of unspeakable +splendors." + +After Kenyon and Donatello emerged from the church, however, they had +better opportunity for acts of charity and mercy than for religious +contemplation; being immediately surrounded by a swarm of beggars, who +are the present possessors of Italy, and share the spoil of the +stranger with the fleas and mosquitoes, their formidable allies. +These pests--the human ones--had hunted the two travellers at every +stage of their journey. From village to village, ragged boys and +girls kept almost under the horses' feet; hoary grandsires and +grandames caught glimpses of their approach, and hobbled to intercept +them at some point of vantage; blind men stared them out of +countenance with their sightless orbs; women held up their unwashed +babies; cripples displayed their wooden legs, their grievous scars, +their dangling, boneless arms, their broken backs, their burden of a +hump, or whatever infirmity or deformity Providence had assigned them +for an inheritance. On the highest mountain summit--in the most +shadowy ravine--there was a beggar waiting for them. In one small +village, Kenyon had the curiosity to count merely how many children +were crying, whining, and bellowing ail at once for alms. They proved +to be more than forty of as ragged and dirty little imps as any in the +world; besides whom, all the wrinkled matrons, and most of the village +maids, and not a few stalwart men, held out their hands grimly, +piteously, or smilingly in the forlorn hope of whatever trifle of coin +might remain in pockets already so fearfully taxed. Had they been +permitted, they would gladly have knelt down and worshipped the +travellers, and have cursed them, without rising from their knees, if +the expected boon failed to be awarded. + +Yet they were not so miserably poor but that the grown people kept +houses over their heads. + +In the way of food, they had, at least, vegetables in their little +gardens, pigs and chickens to kill, eggs to fry into omelets with oil, +wine to drink, and many other things to make life comfortable. As for +the children, when no more small coin appeared to be forthcoming, they +began to laugh and play, and turn heels over head, showing themselves +jolly and vivacious brats, and evidently as well fed as needs be. The +truth is, the Italian peasantry look upon strangers as the almoners of +Providence, and therefore feel no more shame in asking and receiving +alms, than in availing themselves of providential bounties in whatever +other form. + +In accordance with his nature, Donatello was always exceedingly +charitable to these ragged battalions, and appeared to derive a +certain consolation from the prayers which many of them put up in his +behalf. In Italy a copper coin of minute value will often make all +the difference between a vindictive curse--death by apoplexy being the +favorite one- mumbled in an old witch's toothless jaws, and a prayer +from the same lips, so earnest that it would seem to reward the +charitable soul with at least a puff of grateful breath to help him +heavenward. Good wishes being so cheap, though possibly not very +efficacious, and anathemas so exceedingly bitter,--even if the greater +portion of their poison remain in the mouth that utters them,--it may +be wise to expend some reasonable amount in the purchase of the former. +Donatello invariably did so; and as he distributed his alms under +the pictured window, of which we have been speaking, no less than +seven ancient women lifted their hands and besought blessings on his +head. + +"Come," said the sculptor, rejoicing at the happier expression which +he saw in his friend's face. "I think your steed will not stumble +with you to-day. Each of these old dames looks as much like Horace's +Atra Cura as can well be conceived; but, though there are seven of +them, they will make your burden on horseback lighter instead of +heavier." + +"Are we to ride far?" asked the Count. + +"A tolerable journey betwixt now and to-morrow noon," Kenyon replied; +"for, at that hour, I purpose to be standing by the Pope's statue in +the great square of Perugia." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +MARKET DAY IN PERUGIA + + +Perugia, on its lofty hilltop, was reached by the two travellers +before the sun had quite kissed away the early freshness of the +morning. Since midnight, there had been a heavy, rain, bringing +infinite refreshment to the scene of verdure and fertility amid which +this ancient civilization stands; insomuch that Kenyon loitered, when +they came to the gray city wall, and was loath to give up the prospect +of the sunny wilderness that lay below. It was as green as England, +and bright as Italy alone. There was all the wide valley, sweeping +down and spreading away on all sides from the weed grown ramparts, and +bounded afar by mountains, which lay asleep in the sun, with thin +mists and silvery clouds floating about their heads by way of morning +dreams. + +"It lacks still two hours of noon," said the sculptor to his friend, +as they stood under the arch of the gateway, waiting for their +passports to be examined; "will you come with me to see some admirable +frescos by Perugino? There is a hall in the Exchange, of no great +magnitude, but covered with what must have been--at the time it was +painted--such magnificence and beauty as the world had not elsewhere +to show." + +"It depresses me to look at old frescos," responded the Count; "it is +a pain, yet not enough of a pain to answer as a penance." + +"Will you look at some pictures by Fra Angelico in the Church of San +Domenico?" asked Kenyon; "they are full of religious sincerity, When +one studies them faithfully, it is like holding a conversation about +heavenly things with a tender and devout-minded man." + +"You have shown me some of Fra Angelico's pictures, I remember," +answered Donatello; "his angels look as if they had never taken a +flight out of heaven; and his saints seem to have been born saints, +and always to have lived so. Young maidens, and all innocent persons, +I doubt not, may find great delight and profit in looking at such holy +pictures. But they are not for me." + +"Your criticism, I fancy, has great moral depth," replied Kenyon; "and +I see in it the reason why Hilda so highly appreciates Fra Angelico's +pictures. Well; we will let all such matters pass for to-day, and +stroll about this fine old city till noon." + +They wandered to and fro, accordingly, and lost themselves among the +strange, precipitate passages, which, in Perugia, are called streets, +Some of them are like caverns, being arched all over, and plunging +down abruptly towards an unknown darkness; which, when you have +fathomed its depths, admits you to a daylight that you scarcely hoped +to behold again. Here they met shabby men, and the careworn wives and +mothers of the people, some of whom guided children in leading strings +through those dim and antique thoroughfares, where a hundred +generations had passed before the little feet of to-day began to tread +them. Thence they climbed upward again, and came to the level plateau, +on the summit of the hill, where are situated the grand piazza and +the principal public edifices. + +It happened to be market day in Perugia. The great square, therefore, +presented a far more vivacious spectacle than would have been +witnessed in it at any other time of the week, though not so lively as +to overcome the gray solemnity of the architectural portion of the +scene. In the shadow of the cathedral and other old Gothic +structures--seeking shelter from the sunshine that fell across the +rest of the piazza--was a crowd of people, engaged as buyers or +sellers in the petty traffic of a country fair. Dealers had erected +booths and stalls on the pavement, and overspread them with scanty +awnings, beneath which they stood, vociferously crying their +merchandise; such as shoes, hats and caps, yarn stockings, cheap +jewelry and cutlery, books, chiefly little volumes of a religious +Character, and a few French novels; toys, tinware, old iron, cloth, +rosaries of beads, crucifixes, cakes, biscuits, sugar-plums, and +innumerable little odds and ends, which we see no object in +advertising. Baskets of grapes, figs, and pears stood on the ground. +Donkeys, bearing panniers stuffed out with kitchen vegetables, and +requiring an ample roadway, roughly shouldered aside the throng. + +Crowded as the square was, a juggler found room to spread out a white +cloth upon the pavement, and cover it with cups, plates, balls, cards, +w the whole material of his magic, in short,--wherewith he proceeded +to work miracles under the noonday sun. An organ grinder at one point, +and a clarion and a flute at another, accomplished what their could +towards filling the wide space with tuneful noise, Their small uproar, +however, was nearly drowned by the multitudinous voices of the people, +bargaining, quarrelling, laughing, and babbling copiously at random;. +for the briskness of the mountain atmosphere, or some other cause, +made everybody so loquacious, that more words were wasted in Perugia +on this one market day, than the noisiest piazza of Rome would utter +in a month. + +Through all this petty tumult, which kept beguiling one's eyes and +upper strata of thought, it was delightful to catch glimpses of the +grand old architecture that stood around the square. The life of the +flitting moment, existing in the antique shell of an age gone by, has +a fascination which we do not find in either the past or present, +taken by themselves. It might seem irreverent to make the gray +cathedral and the tall, time-worn palaces echo back the exuberant +vociferation of the market; but they did so, and caused the sound to +assume a kind of poetic rhythm, and themselves looked only the more +majestic for their condescension. + +On one side, there was an immense edifice devoted to public purposes, +with an antique gallery, and a range of arched and stone-mullioned +windows, running along its front; and by way of entrance it had a +central Gothic arch, elaborately wreathed around with sculptured +semicircles, within which the spectator was aware of a stately and +impressive gloom. Though merely the municipal council-house and +exchange of a decayed country town, this structure was worthy to have +held in one portion of it the parliament hall of a nation, and in the +other, the state apartments of its ruler. On another side of the +square rose the mediaeval front of the cathedral, where the +imagination of a Gothic architect had long ago flowered out +indestructibly, in the first place, a grand design, and then covering +it with such abundant detail of ornament, that the magnitude of the +work seemed less a miracle than its minuteness. You would suppose +that he must have softened the stone into wax, until his most delicate +fancies were modelled in the pliant material, and then had hardened it +into stone again. The whole was a vast, black-letter page of the +richest and quaintest poetry. In fit keeping with all this old +magnificence was a great marble fountain, where again the Gothic +imagination showed its overflow and gratuity of device in the manifold +sculptures which it lavished as freely as the water did its shifting +shapes. + +Besides the two venerable structures which we have described, there +were lofty palaces, perhaps of as old a date, rising story above Story, +and adorned with balconies, whence, hundreds of years ago, the +princely occupants had been accustomed to gaze down at the sports, +business, and popular assemblages of the piazza. And, beyond all +question, they thus witnessed the erection of a bronze statue, which, +three centuries since, was placed on the pedestal that it still +occupies. + +"I never come to Perugia, said Kenyon, "without spending as much time +as I can spare in studying yonder statue of Pope Julius the Third. +Those sculptors of the Middle Age have fitter lessons for the +professors of my art than we can find in the Grecian masterpieces. +They belong to our Christian civilization; and, being earnest works, +they always express something which we do not get from the antique. +Will you look at it?" + +"Willingly," replied the Count, "for I see, even so far off, that the +statue is bestowing a benediction, and there is a feeling in my heart +that I may be permitted to share it." + +Remembering the similar idea which Miriam a short time before had +expressed, the sculptor smiled hopefully at the coincidence. They +made their way through the throng of the market place, and approached +close to the iron railing that protected the pedestal of the statue. + +It was the figure of a pope, arrayed in his pontifical robes, and +crowned with the tiara. He sat in a bronze chair, elevated high above +the pavement, and seemed to take kindly yet authoritative cognizance +of the busy scene which was at that moment passing before his eye. +His right hand was raised and spread abroad, as if in the act of +shedding forth a benediction, which every man--so broad, so wise, and +so serenely affectionate was the bronze pope's regard--might hope to +feel quietly descending upon the need, or the distress, that he had +closest at his heart. The statue had life and observation in it, as +well as patriarchal majesty. An imaginative spectator could not but +be impressed with the idea that this benignly awful representative of +divine and human authority might rise from his brazen chair, should +any great public exigency demand his interposition, and encourage or +restrain the people by his gesture, or even by prophetic utterances +worthy of so grand a presence. + +And in the long, calm intervals, amid the quiet lapse of ages, the +pontiff watched the daily turmoil around his seat, listening with +majestic patience to the market cries, and all the petty uproar that +awoke the echoes of the stately old piazza. He was the enduring +friend of these men, and of their forefathers and children, the +familiar face of generations. + +"The pope's blessing, methinks, has fallen upon you," observed the +sculptor, looking at his friend. + +In truth, Donatello's countenance indicated a healthier spirit than +while he was brooding in his melancholy tower. The change of scene, +the breaking up of custom, the fresh flow of incidents, the sense of +being homeless, and therefore free, had done something for our poor +Faun; these circumstances had at least promoted a reaction, which +might else have been slower in its progress. Then, no doubt, the +bright day, the gay spectacle of the market place, and the sympathetic +exhilaration of so many people's cheerfulness, had each their suitable +effect on a temper naturally prone to be glad. Perhaps, too, he was +magnetically conscious of a presence that formerly sufficed to make +him happy. Be the cause what it might, Donatello's eyes shone with a +serene and hopeful expression while looking upward at the bronze pope, +to whose widely diffused blessing, it may be, he attributed all this +good influence. + +"Yes, my dear friend," said he, in reply to the sculptor's remark," I +feel the blessing upon my spirit." + +"It is wonderful," said Kenyon, with a smile, "wonderful and +delightful to think how long a good man's beneficence may be potent, +even after his death. How great, then, must have been the efficacy of +this excellent pontiff's blessing while he was alive!" + +"I have heard," remarked the Count, "that there was a brazen image set +up in the wilderness, the sight of which healed the Israelites of +their poisonous and rankling wounds. If it be the Blessed Virgin's +pleasure, why should not this holy image before us do me equal good? +A wound has long been rankling in my soul, and filling it with poison." + +"I did wrong to smile," answered Kenyon. "It is not for me to limit +Providence in its operations on man's spirit." + +While they stood talking, the clock in the neighboring cathedral told +the hour, with twelve reverberating strokes, which it flung down upon +the crowded market place, as if warning one and all to take advantage +of the bronze pontiff's benediction, or of Heaven's blessing, however +proffered, before the opportunity were lost. + +"High noon," said the sculptor. "It is Miriam's hour!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +THE BRONZE PONTIFF'S BENEDICTION + + +When the last of the twelve strokes had fallen from the cathedral +clock, Kenyon threw his eyes over the busy scene of the market place, +expecting to discern Miriam somewhere in the 'crowd. He looked next +towards the cathedral itself, where it was reasonable to imagine that +she might have taken shelter, while awaiting her appointed time. +Seeing no trace of her in either direction, his eyes came back from +their quest somewhat disappointed, and rested on a figure which was +leaning, like Donatello and himself, on the iron balustrade that +surrounded the statue. Only a moment before, they two had been alone. + +It was the figure of a woman, with her head bowed on her hands, as if +she deeply felt--what we have been endeavoring to convey into our +feeble description--the benign and awe-inspiring influence which the +pontiff's statue exercises upon a sensitive spectator. No matter +though it were modelled for a Catholic chief priest, the desolate +heart, whatever be its religion, recognizes in that image the likeness +of a father. + +"Miriam," said the sculptor, with a tremor in his voice, "is it +yourself?" + +"It is I," she replied; "I am faithful to my engagement, though with +many fears." She lifted her head, and revealed to Kenyon--revealed to +Donatello likewise--the well-remembered features of Miriam. They were +pale and worn, but distinguished even now, though less gorgeously, by +a beauty that might be imagined bright enough to glimmer with its own +light in a dim cathedral aisle, and had no need to shrink from the +severer test of the mid-day sun. But she seemed tremulous, and hardly +able to go through with a scene which at a distance she had found +courage to undertake. + +"You are most welcome, Miriam!" said the sculptor, seeking to afford +her the encouragement which he saw she so greatly required. "I have a +hopeful trust that the result of this interview will be propitious. +Come; let me lead you to Donatello." + +"No, Kenyon, no!" whispered Miriam, shrinking back; "unless of his own +accord he speaks my name,--unless he bids me stay,--no word shall ever +pass between him and me. It is not that I take upon me to be proud at +this late hour. Among other feminine qualities, I threw away my pride +when Hilda cast me off." + +"If not pride, what else restrains you?" Kenyon asked, a little angry +at her unseasonable scruples, and also at this half-complaining +reference to Hilda's just severity. "After daring so much, it is no +time for fear! If we let him part from you without a word, your +opportunity of doing him inestimable good is lost forever." + +"True; it will be lost forever!" repeated Miriam sadly. "But, dear +friend, will it be my fault? I willingly fling my woman's pride at +his feet. But--do you not see?--his heart must be left freely to its +own decision whether to recognize me, because on his voluntary choice +depends the whole question whether my devotion will do him good or +harm. Except he feel an infinite need of me, I am a burden and fatal +obstruction to him!" + +"Take your own course, then, Miriam," said Kenyon; "and, doubtless, +the crisis being what it is, your spirit is better instructed for its +emergencies than mine." + +While the foregoing words passed between them they had withdrawn a +little from the immediate vicinity of the statue, so as to be out of +Donatello's hearing. Still, however, they were beneath the pontiff's +outstretched hand; and Miriam, with her beauty and her sorrow, looked +up into his benignant face, as if she had come thither for his pardon +and paternal affection, and despaired of so vast a boon. + +Meanwhile, she had not stood thus long in the public square of Perugia, +without attracting the observation of many eyes. With their quick +sense of beauty, these Italians had recognized her loveliness, and +spared not to take their fill of gazing at it; though their native +gentleness and courtesy made their homage far less obtrusive than that +of Germans, French, or Anglo-Saxons might have been. It is not +improbable that Miriam had planned this momentous interview, on so +public a spot and at high noon, with an eye to the sort of protection +that would be thrown over it by a multitude of eye-witnesses. In +circumstances of profound feeling and passion, there is often a sense +that too great a seclusion cannot be endured; there is an indefinite +dread of being quite alone with the object of our deepest interest. +The species of solitude that a crowd harbors within itself is felt to +be preferable, in certain conditions of the heart, to the remoteness +of a desert or the depths of an untrodden wood. Hatred, love, or +whatever kind of too intense emotion, or even indifference, where +emotion has once been, instinctively seeks to interpose some barrier +between itself and the corresponding passion in another breast. This, +we suspect, was what Miriam had thought of, in coming to the thronged +piazza; partly this, and partly, as she said, her superstition that +the benign statue held good influences in store. + +But Donatello remained leaning against the balustrade. She dared not +glance towards him, to see whether he were pale and agitated, or calm +as ice. Only, she knew that the moments were fleetly lapsing away, +and that his heart must call her soon, or the voice would never reach +her. She turned quite away from him and spoke again to the sculptor. + +"I have wished to meet you," said she, "for more than one reason. +News has come to me respecting a dear friend of ours. Nay, not of +mine! I dare not call her a friend of mine, though once the dearest." + +"Do you speak of Hilda?" exclaimed Kenyon, with quick alarm. "Has +anything befallen her? When I last heard of her, she was still in +Rome, and well." + +"Hilda remains in Rome," replied Miriam, "nor is she ill as regards +physical health, though much depressed in spirits. She lives quite +alone in her dove-cote; not a friend near her, not one in Rome, which, +you know, is deserted by all but its native inhabitants. I fear for +her health, if she continue long in such solitude, with despondency +preying on her mind. I tell you this, knowing the interest which the +rare beauty of her character has awakened in you." + +"I will go to Rome!" said the sculptor, in great emotion. "Hilda has +never allowed me to manifest more than a friendly regard; but, at +least, she cannot prevent my watching over her at a humble distance. +I will set out this very hour." + +"Do not leave us now!" whispered Miriam imploringly, and laying her +hand on his arm. "One moment more! Ah; he has no word for me!" + +"Miriam!" said Donatello. + +Though but a single word, and the first that he had spoken, its tone +was a warrant of the sad and tender depth from which it came. It told +Miriam things of infinite importance, and, first of all, that he still +loved her. The sense of their mutual crime had stunned, but not +destroyed, the vitality of his affection; it was therefore +indestructible. That tone, too, bespoke an altered and deepened +character; it told of a vivified intellect, and of spiritual +instruction that had come through sorrow and remorse; so that instead +of the wild boy, the thing of sportive, animal nature, the sylvan Faun, +here was now the man of feeling and intelligence. + +She turned towards him, while his voice still reverberated in the +depths of her soul. + +"You have called me!" said she. + +"Because my deepest heart has need of you!" he replied. "Forgive, +Miriam, the coldness, the hardness with which I parted from you! I +was bewildered with strange horror and gloom." + +"Alas! and it was I that brought it on you," said she. "What +repentance, what self-sacrifice, can atone for that infinite wrong? +There was something so sacred in the innocent and joyous life which +you were leading! A happy person is such an unaccustomed and holy +creature in this sad world! And, encountering so rare a being, and +gifted with the power of sympathy with his sunny life, it was my doom, +mine, to bring him within the limits of sinful, sorrowful mortality! +Bid me depart, Donatello! Fling me off! No good, through my agency, +can follow upon such a mighty evil!" + +"Miriam," said he, "our lot lies together. Is it not so? Tell me, in +Heaven's name, if it be otherwise." + +Donatello's conscience was evidently perplexed with doubt, whether the +communion of a crime, such as they two were jointly stained with, +ought not to stifle all the instinctive motions of their hearts, +impelling them one towards the other. Miriam, on the other hand, +remorsefully questioned with herself whether the misery, already +accruing from her influence, should not warn her to withdraw from his +path. In this momentous interview, therefore, two souls were groping +for each other in the darkness of guilt and sorrow, and hardly were +bold enough to grasp the cold hands that they found. + +The sculptor stood watching the scene with earnest sympathy. + +"It seems irreverent," said he, at length; "intrusive, if not +irreverent, for a third person to thrust himself between the two +solely concerned in a crisis like the present. Yet, possibly as a +bystander, though a deeply interested one, I may discern somewhat of +truth that is hidden from you both; nay, at least interpret or suggest +some ideas which you might not so readily convey to each other." + +"Speak!" said Miriam. "We confide in you." "Speak!" said Donatello. +"You are true and upright." + +"I well know," rejoined Kenyon, "that I shall not succeed in uttering +the few, deep words which, in this matter, as in all others, include +the absolute truth. But here, Miriam, is one whom a terrible +misfortune has begun to educate; it has taken him, and through your +agency, out of a wild and happy state, which, within circumscribed +limits, gave him joys that he cannot elsewhere find on earth. On his +behalf, you have incurred a responsibility which you cannot fling +aside. And here, Donatello, is one whom Providence marks out as +intimately connected with your destiny. The mysterious process, by +which our earthly life instructs us for another state of being, was +begun for you by her. She has rich gifts of heart and mind, a +suggestive power, a magnetic influence, a sympathetic knowledge, which, +wisely and religiously exercised, are what your condition needs. She +possesses what you require, and, with utter self devotion, will use it +for your good. The bond betwixt you, therefore, is a true one, and +never--except by Heaven's own act--should be rent asunder." + +"Ah; he has spoken the truth!" cried Donatello, grasping Miriam's hand. + + +"The very truth, dear friend," cried Miriam. + +"But take heed," resumed the sculptor, anxious not to violate the +integrity of his own conscience, "take heed; for you love one another, +and yet your bond is twined with such black threads that you must +never look upon it as identical with the ties that unite other loving +souls. It is for mutual support; it is for one another's final good; +it is for effort, for sacrifice, but not for earthly happiness. If +such be your motive, believe me, friends, it were better to relinquish +each other's hands at this sad moment. There would be no holy +sanction on your wedded life." + +"None," said Donatello, shuddering. "We know it well." + +"None," repeated Miriam, also shuddering. "United--miserably +entangled with me, rather--by a bond of guilt, our union might be for +eternity, indeed, and most intimate;--but, through all that endless +duration, I should be conscious of his horror." + +"Not for earthly bliss, therefore," said Kenyon, "but for mutual +elevation, and encouragement towards a severe and painful life, you +take each other's hands. And if, out of toil, sacrifice, prayer, +penitence, and earnest effort towards right things, there comes at +length a sombre and thoughtful, happiness, taste it, and thank Heaven! +So that you live not for it,--so that it be a wayside flower, +springing along a path that leads to higher ends,--it will be Heaven's +gracious gift, and a token that it recognizes your union here below." + +"Have you no more to say?" asked Miriam earnestly. "There is matter +of sorrow and lofty consolation strangely mingled in your words." + +"Only this, dear Miriam," said the sculptor; "if ever in your lives +the highest duty should require from either of you the sacrifice of +the other, meet the occasion without shrinking. This is all." + +While Kenyon spoke, Donatello had evidently taken in the ideas which +he propounded, and had ennobled them by the sincerity of his reception. +His aspect unconsciously assumed a dignity, which, elevating his +former beauty, accorded with the change that had long been taking +place in his interior self. He was a man, revolving grave and deep +thoughts in his breast. He still held Miriam's hand; and there they +stood, the beautiful man, the beautiful woman, united forever, as they +felt, in the presence of these thousand eye-witnesses, who gazed so +curiously at the unintelligible scene. Doubtless the crowd recognized +them as lovers, and fancied this a betrothal that was destined to +result in lifelong happiness. And possibly it might be so. Who can +tell where happiness may come; or where, though an expected guest, it +may never show its face? Perhaps--shy, subtle thing--it had crept +into this sad marriage bond, when the partners would have trembled at +its presence as a crime. + +"Farewell!" said Kenyon; "I go to Rome." + +"Farewell, true friend!" said Miriam. + +"Farewell!" said Donatello too. "May you be happy. You have no guilt +to make you shrink from happiness." + +At this moment it so chanced that all the three friends by one impulse +glanced upward at the statue of Pope Julius; and there was the +majestic figure stretching out the hand of benediction over them, and +bending down upon this guilty and repentant pair its visage of grand +benignity. There is a singular effect oftentimes when, out + +of the midst of engrossing thought and deep absorption, we suddenly +look up, and catch a glimpse of external objects. We seem at such +moments to look farther and deeper into them, than by any premeditated +observation; it is as if they met our eyes alive, and with all their +hidden meaning on the surface, but grew again inanimate and +inscrutable the instant that they became aware of our glances. So now, +at that unexpected glimpse, Miriam, Donatello, and the sculptor, all +three imagined that they beheld the bronze pontiff endowed with +spiritual life. A blessing was felt descending upon them from his +outstretched hand; he approved by look and gesture the pledge of a +deep union that had passed under his auspices. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +HILDA'S TOWER + + +When we have once known Rome, and left her where she lies, like a +long-decaying corpse, retaining a trace of the noble shape it was, but +with accumulated dust and a fungous growth overspreading all its more +admirable features, left her in utter weariness, no doubt, of her +narrow, crooked, intricate streets, so uncomfortably paved with little +squares of lava that to tread over them is a penitential pilgrimage, +so indescribably ugly, moreover, so cold, so alley-like, into which +the sun never falls, and where a chill wind forces its deadly breath +into our lungs,--left her, tired of the sight of those immense +seven-storied, yellow-washed hovels, or call them palaces, where all +that is dreary in domestic life seems magnified and multiplied, and +weary of climbing those staircases, which ascend from a ground-floor +of cook shops, cobblers' stalls, stables, and regiments of cavalry, to +a middle region of princes, cardinals, and ambassadors, and an upper +tier of artists, just beneath the unattainable sky,--left her, worn +out with shivering at the cheerless and smoky fireside by day, and +feasting with our own substance the ravenous little populace of a +Roman bed at night,--left her, sick at heart of Italian trickery, +which has uprooted whatever faith in man's integrity had endured till +now, and sick at stomach of sour bread, sour wine, rancid butter, and +bad cookery, needlessly bestowed on evil meats,--left her, disgusted +with the pretence of holiness and the reality of nastiness, each +equally omnipresent,--left her, half lifeless from the languid +atmosphere, the vital principle of which has been used up long ago, or +corrupted by myriads of slaughters,--left her, crushed down in spirit +with the desolation of her ruin, and the hopelessness of her future, +--left her, in short, hating her with all our might, and adding our +individual curse to the infinite anathema which her old crimes have +unmistakably brought down,--when we have left Rome in such mood as +this, we are astonished by the discovery, by and by, that our +heart-strings have mysteriously attached themselves to the Eternal +City, and are drawing us thitherward again, as if it were more +familiar, more intimately our home, than even the spot where we were +born. + +It is with a kindred sentiment, that we now follow the course of our +story back through the Flaminian Gate, and, treading our way to the +Via Portoghese, climb the staircase to the upper chamber of the tower +where we last saw Hilda. + +Hilda all along intended to pass the summer in Rome; for she had laid +out many high and delightful tasks, which she could the better +complete while her favorite haunts were deserted by the multitude that +thronged them throughout the winter and early spring. Nor did she +dread the summer atmosphere, although generally held to be so +pestilential. She had already made trial of it, two years before, and +found no worse effect than a kind of dreamy languor, which was +dissipated by the first cool breezes that came with autumn. The +thickly populated centre of the city, indeed, is never affected by the +feverish influence that lies in wait in the Campagna, like a besieging +foe, and nightly haunts those beautiful lawns and woodlands, around +the suburban villas, just at the season when they most resemble +Paradise. What the flaming sword was to the first Eden, such is the +malaria to these sweet gardens and grove. We may wander through them, +of an afternoon, it is true, but they cannot be made a home and a +reality, and to sleep among them is death. They are but illusions, +therefore, like the show of gleaming waters and shadowy foliage in a +desert. + +But Rome, within the walls, at this dreaded season, enjoys its festal +days, and makes itself merry with characteristic and hereditary +pas-times, for which its broad piazzas afford abundant room. It leads +its own life with a freer spirit, now that the artists and foreign +visitors are scattered abroad. No bloom, perhaps, would be visible in +a cheek that should be unvisited, throughout the summer, by more +invigorating winds than any within fifty miles of the city; no bloom, +but yet, if the mind kept its healthy energy, a subdued and colorless +well-being. There was consequently little risk in Hilda's purpose to +pass the summer days in the galleries of Roman palaces, and her nights +in that aerial chamber, whither the heavy breath of the city and its +suburbs could not aspire. It would probably harm her no more than it +did the white doves, who sought the same high atmosphere at sunset, +and, when morning came, flew down into the narrow streets, about their +daily business, as Hilda likewise did. + +With the Virgin's aid and blessing, which might be hoped for even by a +heretic, who so religiously lit the lamp before her shrine, the New +England girl would sleep securely in her old Roman tower, and go forth +on her pictorial pilgrimages without dread or peril. In view of such +a summer, Hilda had anticipated many months of lonely, but unalloyed +enjoyment. Not that she had a churlish disinclination to society, or +needed to be told that we taste one intellectual pleasure twice, and +with double the result, when we taste it with a friend. But, keeping +a maiden heart within her bosom, she rejoiced in the freedom that +enabled her still to choose her own sphere, and dwell in it, if she +pleased, without another inmate. + +Her expectation, however, of a delightful summer was woefully +disappointed. Even had she formed no previous plan of remaining there, +it is improbable that Hilda would have gathered energy to stir from +Rome. A torpor, heretofore unknown to her vivacious though quiet +temperament, had possessed itself of the poor girl, like a half-dead +serpent knotting its cold, inextricable wreaths about her limbs. It +was that peculiar despair, that chill and heavy misery, which only the +innocent can experience, although it possesses many of the gloomy +characteristics that mark a sense of guilt. It was that heartsickness, +which, it is to be hoped, we may all of us have been pure enough to +feel, once in our lives, but the capacity for which is usually +exhausted early, and perhaps with a single agony. It was that dismal +certainty of the existence of evil in the world, which, though we may +fancy ourselves fully assured of the sad mystery long before, never +becomes a portion of our practical belief until it takes substance and +reality from the sin of some guide, whom we have deeply trusted and +revered, or some friend whom we have dearly loved. + +When that knowledge comes, it is as if a cloud had suddenly gathered +over the morning light; so dark a cloud, that there seems to be no +longer any sunshine behind it or above it. The character of our +individual beloved one having invested itself with all the attributes +of right,--that one friend being to us the symbol and representative +of whatever is good and true,--when he falls, the effect is almost as +if the sky fell with him, bringing down in chaotic ruin the columns +that upheld our faith. We struggle forth again, no doubt, bruised and +bewildered. We stare wildly about us, and discover--or, it may be, we +never make the discovery--that it was not actually the sky that has +tumbled down, but merely a frail structure of our own rearing, which +never rose higher than the housetops, and has fallen because we +founded it on nothing. But the crash, and the affright and trouble, +are as overwhelming, for the time, as if the catastrophe involved the +whole moral world. Remembering these things, let them suggest one +generous motive for walking heedfully amid the defilement of earthly +ways! Let us reflect, that the highest path is pointed out by the +pure Ideal of those who look up to us, and who, if we tread less +loftily, may never look so high again. + +Hilda's situation was made infinitely more wretched by the necessity +of Confining all her trouble within her own consciousness. To this +innocent girl, holding the knowledge of Miriam's crime within her +tender and delicate soul, the effect was almost the same as if she +herself had participated in the guilt. Indeed, partaking the human +nature of those who could perpetrate such deeds, she felt her own +spotlessness impugnent. + +Had there been but a single friend,--or not a friend, since friends +were no longer to be confided in, after Miriam had betrayed her trust, +--but, had there been any calm, wise mind, any sympathizing +intelligence; or, if not these, any dull, half-listening ear into +which she might have flung the dreadful secret, as into an echoless +cavern, what a relief would have ensued! But this awful loneliness! +It enveloped her whithersoever she went. It was a shadow in the +sunshine of festal days; a mist between her eyes and the pictures at +which she strove to look; a chill dungeon, which kept her in its gray +twilight and fed her with its unwholesome air, fit only for a criminal +to breathe and pine in! She could not escape from it. In the effort +to do so, straying farther into the intricate passages of our nature, +she stumbled, ever and again, over this deadly idea of mortal guilt. + +Poor sufferer for another's sin! Poor wellspring of a virgin's heart, +into which a murdered corpse had casually fallen, and whence it could +not be drawn forth again, but lay there, day after day, night after +night, tainting its sweet atmosphere with the scent of crime and ugly +death! + +The strange sorrow that had befallen Hilda did not fail to impress its +mysterious seal upon her face, and to make itself perceptible to +sensitive observers in her manner and carriage. A young Italian +artist, who frequented the same galleries which Hilda haunted, grew +deeply interested in her expression. One day, while she stood before +Leonardo da Vinci's picture of Joanna of Aragon, but evidently without +seeing it,--for, though it had attracted her eyes, a fancied +resemblance to Miriam had immediately drawn away her thoughts,--this +artist drew a hasty sketch which he afterwards elaborated into a +finished portrait. It represented Hilda as gazing with sad and +earnest horror at a bloodspot which she seemed just then to have +discovered on her white robe. The picture attracted considerable +notice. Copies of an engraving from it may still be found in the +print shops along the Corso. By many connoisseurs, the idea of the +face was supposed to have been suggested by the portrait of Beatrice +Cenci; and, in fact, there was a look somewhat similar to poor +Beatrice's forlorn gaze out of the dreary isolation and remoteness, in +which a terrible doom had involved a tender soul. But the modern +artist strenuously upheld the originality of his own picture, as well +as the stainless purity its subject, and chose to call it--and was +laughed at for his pains--"Innocence, dying of a Blood-stain!" + +"Your picture, Signore Panini, does you credit," remarked the picture +dealer, who had bought it of the young man for fifteen scudi, and +afterwards sold it for ten times the sum; "but it would be worth a +better price if you had given it a more intelligible title. Looking +at the face and expression of this fair signorina, we seem to +comprehend readily enough, that she is undergoing one or another of +those troubles of the heart to which young ladies are but too liable. +But what is this blood-stain? And what has innocence to do with it? +Has she stabbed her perfidious lover with a bodkin?" + +"She! she commit a crime!" cried the young artist. "Can you look at +the innocent anguish in her face, and ask that question? No; but, as +I read the mystery, a man has been slain in her presence, and the +blood, spurting accidentally on her white robe, has made a stain which +eats into her life." + +"Then, in the name of her patron saint," exclaimed the picture dealer, +"why don't she get the robe made white again at the expense of a few +baiocchi to her washerwoman? No, no, my dear Panini. The picture +being now my property, I shall call it 'The Signorina's Vengeance.' +She has stabbed her lover overnight, and is repenting it betimes the +next morning. So interpreted, the picture becomes an intelligible and +very natural representation of a not uncommon fact." + +Thus coarsely does the world translate all finer griefs that meet its +eye. It is more a coarse world than an unkind one. + +But Hilda sought nothing either from the world's delicacy or its pity, +and never dreamed of its misinterpretations. Her doves often flew in +through the windows of the tower, winged messengers, bringing her what +sympathy they could, and uttering soft, tender, and complaining sounds, +deep in their bosoms, which soothed the girl more than a distincter +utterance might. And sometimes Hilda moaned quietly among the doves, +teaching her voice to accord with theirs, and thus finding a temporary +relief from the burden of her incommunicable sorrow, as if a little +portion of it, at least, had been told to these innocent friends, and +been understood and pitied. + +When she trimmed the lamp before the Virgin's shrine, Hilda gazed at +the sacred image, and, rude as was the workmanship, beheld, or fancied, +expressed with the quaint, powerful simplicity which sculptors +sometimes had five hundred years ago, a woman's tenderness responding +to her gaze. If she knelt, if she prayed, if her oppressed heart +besought the sympathy of divine womanhood afar in bliss, but not +remote, because forever humanized by the memory of mortal griefs, was +Hilda to be blamed? It was not a Catholic kneeling at an idolatrous +shrine, but a child lifting its tear-stained face to seek comfort from +a mother. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +THE EMPTINESS OF PICTURE GALLERIES + + +Hilda descended, day by day, from her dove-cote, and went to one or +another of the great old palaces,--the Pamfili Doria, the Corsini, the +Sciarra, the Borghese, the Colonna,--where the doorkeepers knew her +well, and offered her a kindly greeting. But they shook their heads +and sighed, on observing the languid step with which the poor girl +toiled up the grand marble staircases. There was no more of that +cheery alacrity with which she used to flit upward, as if her doves +had lent her their wings, nor of that glow of happy spirits which had +been wont to set the tarnished gilding of the picture frames and the +shabby splendor of the furniture all a-glimmer, as she hastened to her +congenial and delightful toil. + +An old German artist, whom she often met in the galleries, once laid a +paternal hand on Hilda's head, and bade her go back to her own country. + + +"Go back soon," he said, with kindly freedom and directness, "or you +will go never more. And, if you go not, why, at least, do you spend +the whole summer-time in Rome? The air has been breathed too often, +in so many thousand years, and is not wholesome for a little foreign +flower like you, my child, a delicate wood-anemone from the western +forest-land." + +"I have no task nor duty anywhere but here," replied Hilda. "The old +masters will not set me free!" + +"Ah, those old masters!" cried the veteran artist, shaking his head. +"They are a tyrannous race! You will find them of too mighty a spirit +to be dealt with, for long together, by the slender hand, the fragile +mind, and the delicate heart, of a young girl. Remember that +Raphael's genius wore out that divinest painter before half his life +was lived. Since you feel his influence powerfully enough to +reproduce his miracles so well, it will assuredly consume you like a +flame." + +"That might have been my peril once," answered Hilda. "It is not so +now." + +"Yes, fair maiden, you stand in that peril now!" insisted the kind old +man; and he added, smiling, yet in a melancholy vein, and with a +German grotesqueness of idea, "Some fine morning, I shall come to the +Pinacotheca of the Vatican, with my palette and my brushes, and shall +look for my little American artist that sees into the very heart of +the grand pictures! And what shall I behold? A heap of white ashes +on the marble floor, just in front of the divine Raphael's picture of +the Madonna da Foligno! Nothing more, upon my word! The fire, which +the poor child feels so fervently, will have gone into her innermost, +and burnt her quite up!" + +"It would be a happy martyrdom!" said Hilda, faintly smiling. "But I +am far from being worthy of it. What troubles me much, among other +troubles, is quite the reverse of what you think. The old masters +hold me here, it is true, but they no longer warm me with their +influence. It is not flame consuming, but torpor chilling me, that +helps to make me wretched." + +"Perchance, then," said the German, looking keenly at her, "Raphael +has a rival in your heart? He was your first love; but young maidens +are not always constant, and one flame is sometimes extinguished by +another!" Hilda shook her head, and turned away. She had spoken the +truth, however, in alleging that torpor, rather than fire, was what +she had to dread. In those gloomy days that had befallen her, it was +a great additional calamity that she felt conscious of the present +dimness of an insight which she once possessed in more than ordinary +measure. She had lost--and she trembled lest it should have departed +forever--the faculty of appreciating those great works of art, which +heretofore had made so large a portion of her happiness. It was no +wonder. + +A picture, however admirable the painter's art, and wonderful his +power, requires of the spectator a surrender of himself, in due +proportion with the miracle which has been wrought. Let the canvas +glow as it may, you must look with the eye of faith, or its highest +excellence escapes you. There is always the necessity of helping out +the painter's art with your own resources of sensibility and +imagination. Not that these qualities shall really add anything to +what the master has effected; but they must be put so entirely under +his control, and work along with him to such an extent, that, in a +different mood, when you are cold and critical, instead of sympathetic, +you will be apt to fancy that the loftier merits of the picture were +of your own dreaming, not of his creating. + +Like all revelations of the better life, the adequate perception of a +great work of art demands a gifted simplicity of vision. In this, and +in her self-surrender, and the depth and tenderness of her sympathy, +had lain Hilda's remarkable power as a copyist of the old masters. +And now that her capacity of emotion was choked up with a horrible +experience, it inevitably followed that she should seek in vain, among +those friends so venerated and beloved, for the marvels which they had +heretofore shown her. In spite of a reverence that lingered longer +than her recognition, their poor worshipper became almost an infidel, +and sometimes doubted whether the pictorial art be not altogether a +delusion. + +For the first time in her life, Hilda now grew acquainted with that +icy demon of weariness, who haunts great picture galleries. He is a +plausible Mephistopheles, and possesses the magic that is the +destruction of all other magic. He annihilates color, warmth, and, +more especially, sentiment and passion, at a touch. If he spare +anything, it will be some such matter as an earthen pipkin, or a bunch +of herrings by Teniers; a brass kettle, in which you can see your rice, +by Gerard Douw; a furred robe, or the silken texture of a mantle, or +a straw hat, by Van Mieris; or a long-stalked wineglass, transparent +and full of shifting reflection, or a bit of bread and cheese, or an +over-ripe peach with a fly upon it, truer than reality itself, by the +school of Dutch conjurers. These men, and a few Flemings, whispers +the wicked demon, were the only painters. The mighty Italian masters, +as you deem them, were not human, nor addressed their work to human +sympathies, but to a false intellectual taste, which they themselves +were the first to create. Well might they call their doings "art," +for they substituted art instead of nature. Their fashion is past, +and ought, indeed, to have died and been buried along with them. + +Then there is such a terrible lack of variety in their subjects. The +churchmen, their great patrons, suggested most of their themes, and a +dead mythology the rest. A quarter part, probably, of any large +collection of pictures consists of Virgins and infant Christs, +repeated over and over again in pretty much an identical spirit, and +generally with no more mixture of the Divine than just enough to spoil +them as representations of maternity and childhood, with which +everybody's heart might have something to do. Half of the other +pictures are Magdalens, Flights into Egypt, Crucifixions, Depositions +from the Cross, Pietas, Noli-me-tangeres, or the Sacrifice of Abraham, +or martyrdoms of saints, originally painted as altar-pieces, or for +the shrines of chapels, and woefully lacking the accompaniments which +the artist haft in view. + +The remainder of the gallery comprises mythological subjects, such as +nude Venuses, Ledas, Graces, and, in short, a general apotheosis of +nudity, once fresh and rosy perhaps, but yellow and dingy in our day, +and retaining only a traditionary charm. These impure pictures are +from the same illustrious and impious hands that adventured to call +before us the august forms of Apostles and Saints, the Blessed Mother +of the Redeemer, and her Son, at his death, and in his glory, and even +the awfulness of Him, to whom the martyrs, dead a thousand years ago, +have not yet dared to raise their eyes. They seem to take up one task +or the other w the disrobed woman whom they call Venus, or the type of +highest and tenderest womanhood in the mother of their Saviour with +equal readiness, but to achieve the former with far more satisfactory +success. If an artist sometimes produced a picture of the Virgin, +possessing warmth enough to excite devotional feelings, it was +probably the object of his earthly love to whom he thus paid the +stupendous and fearful homage of setting up her portrait to be +worshipped, not figuratively as a mortal, but by religious souls in +their earnest aspirations towards Divinity. And who can trust the +religious sentiment of Raphael, or receive any of his Virgins as +heaven-descended likenesses, after seeing, for example, the Fornarina +of the Barberini Palace, and feeling how sensual the artist must have +been to paint such a brazen trollop of his own accord, and lovingly? +Would the Blessed Mary reveal herself to his spiritual vision, and +favor him with sittings alternately with that type of glowing +earthliness, the Fornarina? + +But no sooner have we given expression to this irreverent criticism, +than a throng of spiritual faces look reproachfully upon us. We see +cherubs by Raphael, whose baby innocence could only have been nursed +in paradise; angels by Raphael as innocent as they, but whose serene +intelligence embraces both earthly and celestial things; madonnas by +Raphael, on whose lips he has impressed a holy and delicate reserve, +implying sanctity on earth, and into whose soft eyes he has thrown a +light which he never could have imagined except by raising his own +eyes with a pure aspiration heavenward. We remember, too, that +divinest countenance in the Transfiguration, and withdraw all that we +have said. + +Poor Hilda, however, in her gloomiest moments, was never guilty of the +high treason suggested in the above remarks against her beloved and +honored Raphael. She had a faculty (which, fortunately for themselves, +pure women often have) of ignoring all moral blotches in a character +that won her admiration. She purified the objects; of her regard by +the mere act of turning such spotless eyes upon them. + +Hilda's despondency, nevertheless, while it dulled her perceptions in +one respect, had deepened them in another; she saw beauty less vividly, +but felt truth, or the lack of it, more profoundly. She began to +suspect that some, at least, of her venerated painters, had left an +inevitable hollowness in their works, because, in the most renowned of +them, they essayed to express to the world what they had not in their +own souls. They deified their light and Wandering affections, and +were continually playing off the tremendous jest, alluded to above, of +offering the features of some venal beauty to be enshrined in the +holiest places. A deficiency of earnestness and absolute truth is +generally discoverable in Italian pictures, after the art had become +consummate. When you demand what is deepest, these painters have not +wherewithal to respond. They substituted a keen intellectual +perception, and a marvellous knack of external arrangement, instead of +the live sympathy and sentiment which should have been their +inspiration. And hence it happens, that shallow and worldly men are +among the best critics of their works; a taste for pictorial art is +often no more than a polish upon the hard enamel of an artificial +character. Hilda had lavished her whole heart upon it, and found +(just as if she had lavished it upon a human idol) that the greater +part was thrown away. + +For some of the earlier painters, however, she still retained much of +her former reverence. Fra Angelico, she felt, must have breathed a +humble aspiration between every two touches of his brush, in order to +have made the finished picture such a visible prayer as we behold it, +in the guise of a prim angel, or a saint without the human nature. +Through all these dusky centuries, his works may still help a +struggling heart to pray. Perugino was evidently a devout man; and +the Virgin, therefore, revealed herself to him in loftier and sweeter +faces of celestial womanhood, and yet with a kind of homeliness in +their human mould, than even the genius of Raphael could imagine. +Sodoma, beyond a question, both prayed and wept, while painting his +fresco, at Siena, of Christ bound to a pillar. + +In her present need and hunger for a spiritual revelation, Hilda felt +a vast and weary longing to see this last-mentioned picture once again. +It is inexpressibly touching. So weary is the Saviour and utterly +worn out with agony, that his lips have fallen apart from mere +exhaustion; his eyes seem to be set; he tries to lean his head against +the pillar, but is kept from sinking down upon the ground only by the +cords that bind him. One of the most striking effects produced is the +sense of loneliness. You behold Christ deserted both in heaven and +earth; that despair is in him which wrung forth the saddest utterance +man ever made, "Why hast Thou forsaken me?" Even in this extremity, +however, he is still divine. The great and reverent painter has not +suffered the Son of God to be merely an object of pity, though +depicting him in a state so profoundly pitiful. He is rescued from it, +we know not how,--by nothing less than miracle,--by a celestial +majesty and beauty, and some quality of which these are the outward +garniture. He is as much, and as visibly, our Redeemer, there bound, +there fainting, and bleeding from the scourge, with the cross in view, +as if he sat on his throne of glory in the heavens! Sodoma, in this +matchless picture, has done more towards reconciling the incongruity +of Divine Omnipotence and outraged, suffering Humanity, combined in +one person, than the theologians ever did. + +This hallowed work of genius shows what pictorial art, devoutly +exercised, might effect in behalf of religious truth; involving, as it +does, deeper mysteries of revelation, and bringing them closer to +man's heart, and making him tenderer to be impressed by them, than the +most eloquent words of preacher or prophet) + +It is not of pictures like the above that galleries, in Rome or +elsewhere, are made up, but of productions immeasurably below them, +and requiring to be appreciated by a very different frame of mind. +Few amateurs are endowed with a tender susceptibility to the sentiment +of a picture; they are not won from an evil life, nor anywise morally +improved by it. The love of art, therefore, differs widely in its +influence from the love of nature; whereas, if art had not strayed +away from its legitimate paths and aims, it ought to soften and +sweeten the lives of its worshippers, in even a more exquisite degree +than the contemplation of natural objects. But, of its own potency, +it has no such effect; and it fails, likewise, in that other test of +its moral value which poor Hilda was now involuntarily trying upon it. +It cannot comfort the heart in affliction; it grows dim when the +shadow is upon us. + +So the melancholy girl wandered through those long galleries, and over +the mosaic pavements of vast, solitary saloons, wondering what had +become of the splendor that used to beam upon her from the walls. She +grew sadly critical, and condemned almost everything that she was wont +to admire. Heretofore, her sympathy went deeply into a picture, yet +seemed to leave a depth which it was inadequate to sound; now, on the +contrary, her perceptive faculty penetrated the canvas like a steel +probe, and found but a crust of paint over an emptiness. Not that she +gave up all art as worthless; only it had lost its consecration. One +picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the applause of +mankind, from generation to generation, until the colors fade and +blacken out of sight, or the canvas rot entirely away. For the rest, +let them be piled in garrets, just as the tolerable poets are shelved, +when their little day is over. Is a painter more sacred than a poet? + +And as for these galleries of Roman palaces, they were to Hilda, +--though she still trod them with the forlorn hope of getting back her +sympathies,--they were drearier than the whitewashed walls of a prison +corridor. If a magnificent palace were founded, as was generally the +case, on hardened guilt and a stony conscience,--if the prince or +cardinal who stole the marble of his vast mansion from the Coliseum, +or some Roman temple, had perpetrated still deadlier crimes, as +probably he did,--there could be no fitter punishment for his ghost +than to wander, perpetually through these long suites of rooms, over +the cold marble or mosaic of the floors, growing chiller at every +eternal footstep. Fancy the progenitor of the Dorias thus haunting +those heavy halls where his posterity reside! Nor would it assuage +his monotonous misery, but increase it manifold, to be compelled to +scrutinize those masterpieces of art, which he collected with so much +cost and care, and gazing at them unintelligently, still leave a +further portion of his vital warmth at every one. + +Such, or of a similar kind, is the torment of those who seek to enjoy +pictures in an uncongenial mood. Every haunter of picture galleries, +we should imagine, must have experienced it, in greater or less degree; +Hilda never till now, but now most bitterly. + +And now, for the first time in her lengthened absence, comprising so +many years of her young life, she began to be acquainted with the +exile's pain. Her pictorial imagination brought up vivid scenes of +her native village, with its great old elm-trees; and the neat, +comfortable houses, scattered along the wide, grassy margin of its +street, and the white meeting-house, and her mother's very door, and +the stream of gold brown water, which her taste for color had kept +flowing, all this while, through her remembrance. O dreary streets, +palaces, churches, and imperial sepulchres of hot and dusty Rome, with +the muddy Tiber eddying through the midst, instead of the gold-brown +rivulet! How she pined under this crumbly magnificence, as if it were +piled all upon her human heart! How she yearned for that native +homeliness, those familiar sights, those faces which she had known +always, those days that never brought any strange event; that life of +sober week-days, and a solemn sabbath at the close! The peculiar +fragrance of a flower-bed, which Hilda used to cultivate, came freshly +to her memory, across the windy sea, and through the long years since +the flowers had withered. Her heart grew faint at the hundred +reminiscences that were awakened by that remembered smell of dead +blossoms; it was like opening a drawer, where many things were laid +away, and every one of them scented with lavender and dried +rose-leaves. + +We ought not to betray Hilda's secret; but it is the truth, that being +so sad, and so utterly alone, and in such great need of sympathy, her +thoughts sometimes recurred to the sculptor. Had she met him now, her +heart, indeed, might not have been won, but her confidence would have +flown to him like a bird to its nest. One summer afternoon, +especially, Hilda leaned upon the battlements of her tower, and looked +over Rome towards the distant mountains, whither Kenyon had told her +that he was going. + +"O that he were here!" she sighed; "I perish under this terrible +secret; and he might help me to endure it. O that he were here!" + +That very afternoon, as the reader may remember, Kenyon felt Hilda's +hand pulling at the silken cord that was connected with his +heart-strings, as he stood looking towards Rome from the battlements +of Monte Beni. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +ALTARS AND INCENSE + + +Rome has a certain species of consolation readier at hand, for all the +necessitous, than any other spot under the sun; and Hilda's despondent +state made her peculiarly liable to the peril, if peril it can justly +be termed, of seeking, or consenting, to be thus consoled. + +Had the Jesuits known the situation of this troubled heart, her +inheritance of New England Puritanism would hardly have protected the +poor girl from the pious strategy of those good fathers. Knowing, as +they do, how to work each proper engine, it would have been ultimately +impossible for Hilda to resist the attractions of a faith, which so +marvellously adapts itself to every human need. Not, indeed, that it +can satisfy the soul's cravings, but, at least, it can sometimes help +the soul towards a higher satisfaction than the faith contains within +itself. It supplies a multitude of external forms, in which the +spiritual may be clothed and manifested; it has many painted windows, +as it were, through which the celestial sunshine, else disregarded, +may make itself gloriously perceptible in visions of beauty and +splendor. There is no one want or weakness of human nature for which +Catholicism will own itself without a remedy; cordials, certainly, it +possesses in abundance, and sedatives in inexhaustible variety, and +what may once have been genuine medicaments, though a little the worse +for long keeping. + +To do it justice, Catholicism is such a miracle of fitness for its own +ends, many of which might seem to be admirable ones, that it is +difficult to imagine it a contrivance of mere man. Its mighty +machinery was forged and put together, not on middle earth, but either +above or below. If there were but angels to work it, instead of the +very different class of engineers who now manage its cranks and safety +valves, the system would soon vindicate the dignity and holiness of +its origin. + +Hilda had heretofore made many pilgrimages among the churches of Rome, +for the sake of wondering at their gorgeousness. Without a glimpse at +these palaces of worship, it is impossible to imagine the magnificence +of the religion that reared them. Many of them shine with burnished +gold. They glow with pictures. Their walls, columns, and arches seem +a quarry of precious stones, so beautiful and costly are the marbles +with which they are inlaid. Their pavements are often a mosaic, of +rare workmanship. Around their lofty cornices hover flights of +sculptured angels; and within the vault of the ceiling and the +swelling interior of the dome, there are frescos of such brilliancy, +and wrought with so artful a perspective, that the sky, peopled with +sainted forms, appears to be opened only a little way above the +spectator. Then there are chapels, opening from the side aisles and +transepts, decorated by princes for their own burial places, and as +shrines for their especial saints. In these, the splendor of the +entire edifice is intensified and gathered to a focus. Unless words +were gems, that would flame with many-colored light upon the page, and +throw thence a tremulous glimmer into the reader's eyes, it were wain +to attempt a description of a princely chapel. + +Restless with her trouble, Hilda now entered upon another pilgrimage +among these altars and shrines. She climbed the hundred steps of the +Ara Coeli; she trod the broad, silent nave of St. John Lateran; she +stood in the Pantheon, under the round opening in the dome, through +which the blue sunny sky still gazes down, as it used to gaze when +there were Roman deities in the antique niches. She went into every +church that rose before her, but not now to wonder at its magnificence, +when she hardly noticed more than if it had been the pine-built +interior of a New England meeting-house. + +She went--and it was a dangerous errand--to observe how closely and +comfortingly the popish faith applied itself to all human occasions. +It was impossible to doubt that multitudes of people found their +spiritual advantage in it, who would find none at all in our own +formless mode of worship; which, besides, so far as the sympathy of +prayerful souls is concerned, can be enjoyed only at stated and too +unfrequent periods. But here, whenever the hunger for divine +nutriment came upon the soul, it could on the instant be appeased. At +one or another altar, the incense was forever ascending; the mass +always being performed, and carrying upward with it the devotion of +such as had not words for their own prayer. And yet, if the +worshipper had his individual petition to offer, his own heart-secret +to whisper below his breath, there were divine auditors ever ready to +receive it from his lips; and what encouraged him still more, these +auditors had not always been divine, but kept, within their heavenly +memories, the tender humility of a human experience. Now a saint in +heaven, but once a man on earth. + +Hilda saw peasants, citizens, soldiers, nobles, women with bare heads, +ladies in their silks, entering the churches individually, kneeling +for moments or for hours, and directing their inaudible devotions to +the shrine of some saint of their own choice. In his hallowed person, +they felt themselves possessed of an own friend in heaven. They were +too humble to approach the Deity directly. Conscious of their +unworthiness, they asked the mediation of their sympathizing patron, +who, on the score of his ancient martyrdom, and after many ages of +celestial life, might venture to talk with the Divine Presence, almost +as friend with friend. Though dumb before its Judge, even despair +could speak, and pour out the misery of its soul like water, to an +advocate so wise to comprehend the case, and eloquent to plead it, and +powerful to win pardon whatever were the guilt. Hilda witnessed what +she deemed to be an example of this species of confidence between a +young man and his saint. He stood before a shrine, writhing, wringing +his hands, contorting his whole frame in an agony of remorseful +recollection, but finally knelt down to weep and pray. If this youth +had been a Protestant, he would have kept all that torture pent up in +his heart, and let it burn there till it seared him into indifference. + +Often and long, Hilda lingered before the shrines and chapels of the +Virgin, and departed from them with reluctant steps. Here, perhaps, +strange as it may seem, her delicate appreciation of art stood her in +good stead, and lost Catholicism a convert. If the painter had +represented Mary with a heavenly face, poor Hilda was now in the very +mood to worship her, and adopt the faith in which she held so elevated +a position. But she saw that it was merely the flattered portrait of +an earthly beauty; the wife, at best, of the artist; or, it might be, +a peasant girl of the Campagna, or some Roman princess, to whom he +desired to pay his court. For love, or some even less justifiable +motive, the old painter had apotheosized these women; he thus gained +for them, as far as his skill would go, not only the meed of +immortality, but the privilege of presiding over Christian altars, and +of being worshipped with far holier fervors than while they dwelt on +earth. Hilda's fine sense of the fit and decorous could not be +betrayed into kneeling at such a shrine. + +She never found just the virgin mother whom she needed. Here it was +an earthly mother, worshipping the earthly baby in her lap, as any and +every mother does, from Eve's time downward. In another picture, +there was a dim sense, shown in the mother's face, of some divine +quality in the child. In a third, the artist seemed to have had a +higher perception, and had striven hard to shadow out the Virgin's joy +at bringing the Saviour into the world, and her awe and love, +inextricably mingled, of the little form which she pressed against her +bosom. So far was good. But still, Hilda looked for something more; +a face of celestial beauty, but human as well as heavenly, and with +the shadow of past grief upon it; bright with immortal youth, yet +matronly and motherly; and endowed with a queenly dignity, but +infinitely tender, as the highest and deepest attribute of her +divinity. + +"Ah," thought Hilda to herself, "why should not there be a woman to +listen to the prayers of women? A mother in heaven for all motherless +girls like me? In all God's thought and care for us, can he have +withheld this boon, which our weakness so much needs?" + +Oftener than to the other churches, she wandered into St. Peter's. +Within its vast limits, she thought, and beneath the sweep of its +great dome, there should be space for all forms of Christian truth; +room both for the faithful and the heretic to kneel; due help for +every creature's spiritual want. + +Hilda had not always been adequately impressed by the grandeur of this +mighty cathedral. When she first lifted the heavy leathern curtain, +at one of the doors, a shadowy edifice in her imagination had been +dazzled out of sight by the reality. Her preconception of St. Peter's +was a structure of no definite outline, misty in its architecture, dim +and gray and huge, stretching into an interminable perspective, and +overarched by a dome like the cloudy firmament. Beneath that vast +breadth and height, as she had fancied them, the personal man might +feel his littleness, and the soul triumph in its immensity. So, in +her earlier visits, when the compassed splendor Of the actual interior +glowed before her eyes, she had profanely called it a great prettiness; +a gay piece of cabinet work, on a Titanic scale; a jewel casket, +marvellously magnified. + +This latter image best pleased her fancy; a casket, all inlaid in the +inside with precious stones of various hue, so that there Should not +be a hair's-breadth of the small interior unadorned with its +resplendent gem. Then, conceive this minute wonder of a mosaic box, +increased to the magnitude of a cathedral, without losing the intense +lustre of its littleness, but all its petty glory striving to be +sublime. The magic transformation from the minute to the vast has not +been so cunningly effected but that the rich adornment still +counteracts the impression of space and loftiness. The spectator is +more sensible of its limits than of its extent. + +Until after many visits, Hilda continued to mourn for that dim, +illimitable interior, which with her eyes shut she had seen from +childhood, but which vanished at her first glimpse through the actual +door. Her childish vision seemed preferable to the cathedral which +Michael Angelo, and all the great architects, had built; because, of +the dream edifice, she had said, "How vast it is!" while of the real +St. Peter's she could only say, "After all, it is not so immense!" +Besides, such as the church is, it can nowhere be made visible at one +glance. It stands in its own way. You see an aisle, or a transept; +you see the nave, or the tribune; but, on account of its ponderous +piers and other obstructions, it is only by this fragmentary process +that you get an idea of the cathedral. + +There is no answering such objections. The great church smiles calmly +upon its critics, and, for all response, says, "Look at me!" and if +you still murmur for the loss of your shadowy perspective, there comes +no reply, save, "Look at me!" in endless repetition, as the one thing +to be said. And, after looking many times, with long intervals +between, you discover that the cathedral has gradually extended itself +over the whole compass of your idea; it covers all the site of your +visionary temple, and has room for its cloudy pinnacles beneath the +dome. + +One afternoon, as Hilda entered St. Peter's in sombre mood, its +interior beamed upon her with all the effect of a new creation. It +seemed an embodiment of whatever the imagination could conceive, or +the heart desire, as a magnificent, comprehensive, majestic symbol of +religious faith. All splendor was included within its verge, and +there was space for all. She gazed with delight even at the +multiplicity of ornament. She was glad at the cherubim that fluttered +upon the pilasters, and of the marble doves, hovering unexpectedly, +with green olive-branches of precious stones. She could spare nothing, +now, of the manifold magnificence that had been lavished, in a +hundred places, richly enough to have made world-famous shrines in any +other church, but which here melted away into the vast sunny breadth, +and were of no separate account. Yet each contributed its little all +towards the grandeur of the whole. + +She would not have banished one of those grim popes, who sit each over +his own tomb, scattering cold benedictions out of their marble hands; +nor a single frozen sister of the Allegoric family, to whom--as, like +hired mourners at an English funeral, it costs them no wear and tear +of heart--is assigned the office of weeping for the dead. If you +choose to see these things, they present themselves; if you deem them +unsuitable and out of place, they vanish, individually, but leave +their life upon the walls. + +The pavement! it stretched out illimitably, a plain of many-colored +marble, where thousands of worshippers might kneel together, and +shadowless angels tread among them without brushing their heavenly +garments against those earthly ones. The roof! the dome! Rich, +gorgeous, filled with sunshine, cheerfully sublime, and fadeless after +centuries, those lofty depths seemed to translate the heavens to +mortal comprehension, and help the spirit upward to a yet higher and +wider sphere. Must not the faith, that built this matchless edifice, +and warmed, illuminated, and overflowed from it, include whatever can +satisfy human aspirations at the loftiest, or minister to human +necessity at the sorest? If Religion had a material home, was it not +here? + +As the scene which we but faintly suggest shone calmly before the New +England maiden at her entrance, she moved, as if by very instinct, to +one of the vases of holy water, upborne against a column by two mighty +cherubs. Hilda dipped her fingers, and had almost signed the cross +upon her breast, but forbore, and trembled, while shaking the water +from her finger-tips. She felt as if her mother's spirit, somewhere +within the dome, were looking down upon her child, the daughter of +Puritan forefathers, and weeping to behold her ensnared by these gaudy +superstitions. So she strayed sadly onward, up the nave, and towards +the hundred golden lights that swarm before the high altar. Seeing a +woman; a priest, and a soldier kneel to kiss the toe of the brazen St. +Peter, who protrudes it beyond his pedestal for the purpose, polished +bright with former salutations, while a child stood on tiptoe to do +the same, the glory of the church was darkened before Hilda's eyes. +But again she went onward into remoter regions. She turned into the +right transept, and thence found her way to a shrine, in the extreme +corner of the edifice, which is adorned with a mosaic copy of Guido's +beautiful Archangel, treading on the prostrate fiend. + +This was one of the few pictures, which, in these dreary days, had not +faded nor deteriorated in Hilda's estimation; not that it was better +than many in which she no longer took an interest; but the subtile +delicacy of the painter's genius was peculiarly adapted to her +character. She felt, while gazing at it, that the artist had done a +great thing, not merely for the Church of Rome, but for the cause of +Good. The moral of the picture, the immortal youth and loveliness of +virtue, and its irresistibles might against ugly Evil, appealed as +much to Puritans as Catholics. + +Suddenly, and as if it were done in a dream, Hilda found herself +kneeling before the shrine, under the ever-burning lamp that throws +its rays upon the Archangel's face. She laid her forehead on the +marble steps before the altar, and sobbed out a prayer; she hardly +knew to whom, whether Michael, the Virgin, or the Father; she hardly +knew for what, save only a vague longing, that thus the burden of her +spirit might be lightened a little. + +In an instant she snatched herself up, as it were, from her knees, all +a-throb with the emotions which were struggling to force their way out +of her heart by the avenue that had so nearly been opened for them. +Yet there was a strange sense of relief won by that momentary, +passionate prayer; a strange joy, moreover, whether from what she had +done, or for what she had escaped doing, Hilda could not tell. But +she felt as one half stifled, who has stolen a breath of air. + +Next to the shrine where she had knelt there is another, adorned with +a picture by Guercino, representing a maiden's body in the jaws of the +sepulchre, and her lover weeping over it; while her beatified spirit +looks down upon the scene, in the society of the Saviour and a throng +of saints. Hilda wondered if it were not possible, by some miracle of +faith, so to rise above her present despondency that she might look +down upon what she was, just as Petronilla in the picture looked at +her own corpse. A hope, born of hysteric trouble, fluttered in her +heart. A presentiment, or what she fancied such, whispered her, that, +before she had finished the circuit of the cathedral, relief would +come. + +The unhappy are continually tantalized by similar delusions of succor +near at hand; at least, the despair is very dark that has no such +will-o'-the-wisp to glimmer in it. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +THE WORLD'S CATHEDRAL + + +Still gliding onward, Hilda now looked up into the dome, where the +sunshine came through the western windows, and threw across long +shafts of light. They rested upon the mosaic figures of two +evangelists above the cornice. These great beams of radiance, +traversing what seemed the empty space, were made visible in misty +glory, by the holy cloud of incense, else unseen, which had risen into +the middle dome. It was to Hilda as if she beheld the worship of the +priest and people ascending heavenward, purified from its alloy of +earth, and acquiring celestial substance in the golden atmosphere to +which it aspired, She wondered if angels did not sometimes hover +within the dome, and show themselves, in brief glimpses, floating amid +the sunshine and the glorified vapor, to those who devoutly worshipped +on the pavement. + +She had now come into the southern transept. Around this portion of +the church are ranged a number of confessionals. They are small +tabernacles of carved wood, with a closet for the priest in the centre; +and, on either side, a space for a penitent to kneel, and breathe his +confession through a perforated auricle into the good father's ear. +Observing this arrangement, though already familiar to her, our poor +Hilda was anew impressed with the infinite convenience--if we may use +so poor a phrase--of the Catholic religion to its devout believers. + +Who, in truth, that considers the matter, can resist a similar +impression! In the hottest fever-fit of life, they can always find, +ready for their need, a cool, quiet, beautiful place of worship. They +may enter its sacred precincts at any hour, leaving the fret and +trouble of the world behind them, and purifying themselves with a +touch of holy water at the threshold. In the calm interior, fragrant +of rich and soothing incense, they may hold converse with some saint, +their awful, kindly friend. And, most precious privilege of all, +whatever perplexity, sorrow, guilt, may weigh upon their souls, they +can fling down the dark burden at the foot of the cross, and go +forth--to sin no more, nor be any longer disquieted; but to live again +in the freshness and elasticity of innocence. + +"Do not these inestimable advantages," thought Hilda, "or some of them +at least, belong to Christianity itself? Are they not a part of the +blessings which the system was meant to bestow upon mankind? Can the +faith in which I was born and bred be perfect, if it leave a weak girl +like me to wander, desolate, with this great trouble crushing me +down?" + +A poignant anguish thrilled within her breast; it was like a thing +that had life, and was struggling to get out. + +"O help! O help!" cried Hilda; "I cannot, cannot bear it!" + +Only by the reverberations that followed--arch echoing the sound to +arch, and a pope of bronze repeating it to a pope of marble, as each +sat enthroned over his tomb--did Hilda become aware that she had +really spoken above her breath. But, in that great space, there is no +need to hush up the heart within one's own bosom, so carefully as +elsewhere; and if the cry reached any distant auditor, it came broken +into many fragments, and from various quarters of the church. + +Approaching one of the confessionals, she saw a woman kneeling within. +Just as Hilda drew near, the penitent rose, came forth, and kissed +the hand of the priest, who regarded her with a look of paternal +benignity, and appeared to be giving her some spiritual counsel, in a +low voice. She then knelt to receive his blessing, which was +fervently bestowed. Hilda was so struck with the peace and joy in the +woman's face, that, as the latter retired, she could not help speaking +to her. + +"You look very happy!" said she. "Is it so sweet, then, to go to the +confessional?" + +"O, very sweet, my dear signorina!" answered the woman, with moistened +eyes and an affectionate smile; for she was so thoroughly softened +with what she had been doing, that she felt as if Hilda were her +younger sister. "My heart is at rest now. Thanks be to the Saviour, +and the Blessed Virgin and the saints, and this good father, there is +no more trouble for poor Teresa!" + +"I am glad for your sake," said Hilda, sighing for her own. "I am a +poor heretic, but a human sister; and I rejoice for you!" + +She went from one to another of the confessionals, and, looking at +each, perceived that they were inscribed with gilt letters: on one, +Pro Italica Lingua; on another, Pro Flandrica Lingua; on a third, Pro +Polonica Lingua; on a fourth, Pro Illyrica Lingua; on a fifth, Pro +Hispanica Lingua. In this vast and hospitable cathedral, worthy to be +the religious heart of the whole world, there was room for all nations; +there was access to the Divine Grace for every Christian soul; there +was an ear for what the overburdened heart might have to murmur, speak +in what native tongue it would. + +When Hilda had almost completed the circuit of the transept, she came +to a confessional--the central part was closed, but a mystic room +protruded from it, indicating the presence of a priest within--on +which was inscribed, Pro Anglica Lingua. + +It was the word in season! If she had heard her mother's voice from +within the tabernacle, calling her, in her own mother-tongue, to come +and lay her poor head in her lap, and sob out all her troubles, Hilda +could not have responded with a more inevitable obedience. She did +not think; she only felt. Within her heart was a great need. Close +at hand, within the veil of the confessional, was the relief. She +flung herself down in the penitent's place; and, tremulously, +passionately, with sobs, tears, and the turbulent overflow of emotion +too long repressed, she poured out the dark story which had infused +its poison into her innocent life. + +Hilda had not seen, nor could she now see, the visage of the priest. +But, at intervals, in the pauses of that strange confession, half +choked by the struggle of her feelings toward an outlet, she heard a +mild, calm voice, somewhat mellowed by age. It spoke soothingly; it +encouraged her; it led her on by apposite questions that seemed to be +suggested by a great and tender interest, and acted like magnetism in +attracting the girl's confidence to this unseen friend. The priest's +share in the interview, indeed, resembled that of one who removes the +stones, clustered branches, or whatever entanglements impede the +current of a swollen stream. Hilda could have imagined--so much to +the purpose were his inquiries--that he was already acquainted with +some outline of what she strove to tell him. + +Thus assisted, she revealed the whole of her terrible secret! The +whole, except that no name escaped her lips. + +And, ah, what a relief! When the hysteric gasp, the strife between +words and sobs, had subsided, what a torture had passed away from her +soul! It was all gone; her bosom was as pure now as in her childhood. +She was a girl again; she was Hilda of the dove-cote; not that +doubtful creature whom her own doves had hardly recognized as their +mistress and playmate, by reason of the death-scent that clung to her +garments! + +After she had ceased to speak, Hilda heard the priest bestir himself +with an old man's reluctant movement. He stepped out of the +confessional; and as the girl was still kneeling in the penitential +corner, he summoned her forth. + +"Stand up, my daughter," said the mild voice of the confessor; "what +we have further to say must be spoken face to face." + +Hilda did his bidding, and stood before him with a downcast visage, +which flushed and grew pale again. But it had the wonderful beauty +which we may often observe in those who have recently gone through a +great struggle, and won the peace that lies just on the other side. +We see it in a new mother's face; we see it in the faces of the dead; +and in Hilda's countenance--which had always a rare natural charm for +her friends--this glory of peace made her as lovely as an angel. + +On her part, Hilda beheld a venerable figure with hair as white as +snow, and a face strikingly characterized by benevolence. It bore +marks of thought, however, and penetrative insight; although the keen +glances of the eyes were now somewhat bedimmed with tears, which the +aged shed, or almost shed, on lighter stress of emotion than would +elicit them from younger men. + +"It has not escaped my observation, daughter," said the priest, "that +this is your first acquaintance with the confessional. How is this?" + +"Father," replied Hilda, raising her eyes, and again letting them fall, +"I am of New Eng land birth, and was bred as what you call a heretic." + +"From New England!" exclaimed the priest. "It was my own birthplace, +likewise; nor have fifty years of absence made me cease to love it. +But a heretic! And are you reconciled to the Church?" + +"Never, father," said Hilda. + +"And, that being the case," demanded the old man, "on what ground, my +daughter, have you sought to avail yourself of these blessed +privileges, confined exclusively to members of the one true Church, of +confession and absolution?" + +"Absolution, father?" exclaimed Hilda, shrinking back. "O no, no! I +never dreamed of that! Only our Heavenly Father can forgive my sins; +and it is only by sincere repentance of whatever wrong I may have done, +and by my own best efforts towards a higher life, that I can hope for +his forgiveness! God forbid that I should ask absolution from mortal +man!" + +"Then wherefore," rejoined the priest, with somewhat less mildness in +his tone,--"wherefore, I ask again, have you taken possession, as I +may term it, of this holy ordinance; being a heretic, and neither +seeking to share, nor having faith in, the unspeakable advantages +which the Church offers to its penitents?" + +"Father," answered Hilda, trying to tell the old man the simple truth, +"I am a motherless girl, and a stranger here in Italy. I had only God +to take care of me, and be my closest friend; and the terrible, +terrible crime, which I have revealed to you, thrust itself between +him and me; so that I groped for him in the darkness, as it were, and +found him not,--found nothing but a dreadful solitude, and this crime +in the midst of it! I could not bear it. It seemed as if I made the +awful guilt my own, by keeping it hidden in my heart. I grew a +fearful thing to myself. I was going mad!" + +"It was a grievous trial, my poor child!" observed the confessor. +"Your relief, I trust, will prove to be greater than you yet know!" + +"I feel already how immense it is!" said Hilda, looking gratefully in +his face. "Surely, father, it was the hand of Providence that led me +hither, and made me feel that this vast temple of Christianity, this +great home of religion, must needs contain some cure, some ease, at +least, for my unutterable anguish. And it has proved so. I have told +the hideous secret; told it under the sacred seal of the confessional; +and now it will burn my poor heart no more!" + +"But, daughter," answered the venerable priest, not unmoved by what +Hilda said, "you forget! you mistake!--you claim a privilege to which +you have not entitled yourself! The seal of the confessional, do you +say? God forbid that it should ever be broken where it has been +fairly impressed; but it applies only to matters that have been +confided to its keeping in a certain prescribed method, and by persons, +moreover, who have faith in the sanctity of the ordinance. I hold +myself, and any learned casuist of the Church would hold me, as free +to disclose all the particulars of what you term your confession, as +if they had come to my knowledge in a secular way." + +"This is not right, father!" said Hilda, fixing her eyes on the old +man's. + +"Do not you see, child," he rejoined, with some little heat, "with all +your nicety of conscience, cannot you recognize it as my duty to make +the story known to the proper authorities; a great crime against +public justice being involved, and further evil consequences likely to +ensue?" + +"No, father, no!" answered Hilda, courageously, her cheeks flushing +and her eyes brightening as she spoke. "Trust a girl's simple heart +sooner than any casuist of your Church, however learned he may be. +Trust your own heart, too! I came to your confessional, father, as I +devoutly believe, by the direct impulse of Heaven, which also brought +you hither to-day, in its mercy and love, to relieve me of a torture +that I could no longer bear. I trusted in the pledge which your +Church has always held sacred between the priest and the human soul, +which, through his medium, is struggling towards its Father above. +What I have confided to you lies sacredly between God and yourself. +Let it rest there, father; for this is right, and if you do otherwise, +you will perpetrate a great wrong, both as a priest and a man! And +believe me, no question, no torture, shall ever force my lips to utter +what would be necessary, in order to make my confession available +towards the punishment of the guilty ones. Leave Providence to deal +with them!" + +"My quiet little countrywoman," said the priest, with half a smile on +his kindly old face, "you can pluck up a spirit, I perceive, when you +fancy an occasion for one." + +"I have spirit only to do what I think right," replied Hilda simply. +"In other respects I am timorous." + +"But you confuse yourself between right feelings and very foolish +inferences," continued the priest, "as is the wont of women,--so much +I have learnt by long experience in the confessional,--be they young +or old. However, to set your heart at rest, there is no probable need +for me to reveal the matter. What you have told, if I mistake not, +and perhaps more, is already known in the quarter which it most +concerns." + +"Known!" exclaimed Hilda. "Known to the authorities of Rome! And +what will be the consequence?" + +"Hush!" answered the confessor, laying his finger on his lips. "I +tell you my supposition--mind, it is no assertion of the fact--in +order that you may go the more cheerfully on your way, not deeming +yourself burdened with any responsibility as concerns this dark deed. +And now, daughter, what have you to give in return for an old man's +kindness and sympathy?" + +"My grateful remembrance," said Hilda, fervently, "as long as I live!" + +"And nothing more?" the priest inquired, with a persuasive smile. +"Will you not reward him with a great joy; one of the last joys that +he may know on earth, and a fit one to take with him into the better +world? In a word, will you not allow me to bring you as a stray lamb +into the true fold? You have experienced some little taste of the +relief and comfort which the Church keeps abundantly in store for all +its faithful children. Come home, dear child,--poor wanderer, who +hast caught a glimpse of the heavenly light,--come home, and be at +rest." + +"Father," said Hilda, much moved by his kindly earnestness, in which, +however, genuine as it was, there might still be a leaven of +professional craft, "I dare not come a step farther than Providence +shall guide me. Do not let it grieve you, therefore, if I never +return to the confessional; never dip my fingers in holy water; never +sign my bosom with the cross. I am a daughter of the Puritans. But, +in spite of my heresy," she added with a sweet, tearful smile, "you +may one day see the poor girl, to whom you have done this great +Christian kindness, coming to remind you of it, and thank you for it, +in the Better Land." + +The old priest shook his head. But, as he stretched out his hands at +the same moment, in the act of benediction, Hilda knelt down and +received the blessing with as devout a simplicity as any Catholic of +them all. + + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +HILDA AND A FRIEND + + +When Hilda knelt to receive the priest's benediction, the act was +witnessed by a person who stood leaning against the marble balustrade +that surrounds the hundred golden lights, before the high altar. He +had stood there, indeed, from the moment of the girl's entrance into +the confessional. His start of surprise, at first beholding her, and +the anxious gloom that afterwards settled on his face, sufficiently +betokened that he felt a deep and sad interest in what was going +forward. + +After Hilda had bidden the priest farewell, she came slowly towards +the high altar. The individual to whom we have alluded seemed +irresolute whether to advance or retire. His hesitation lasted so +long that the maiden, straying through a happy reverie, had crossed +the wide extent of the pavement between the confessional and the altar, +before he had decided whether to meet her. At last, when within a +pace or two, she raised her eyes and recognized Kenyon. + +"It is you!" she exclaimed, with joyful surprise. "I am so happy." + +In truth, the sculptor had never before seen, nor hardly imagined, +such a figure of peaceful beatitude as Hilda now presented. While +coming towards him in the solemn radiance which, at that period of the +day, is diffused through the transept, and showered down beneath the +dome, she seemed of the same substance as the atmosphere that +enveloped her. He could scarcely tell whether she was imbued with +sunshine, or whether it was a glow of happiness that shone out of her. + +At all events, it was a marvellous change from the sad girl, who had +entered the confessional bewildered with anguish, to this bright, yet +softened image of religious consolation that emerged from it. It was +as if one of the throng of angelic people, who might be hovering in +the sunny depths of the dome, had alighted on the pavement. Indeed, +this capability of transfiguration, which we often see wrought by +inward delight on persons far less capable of it than Hilda, suggests +how angels come by their beauty, it grows out of their happiness, and +lasts forever only because that is immortal. + +She held out her hand, and Kenyon was glad to take it in his own, if +only to assure himself that she was made of earthly material. + +"Yes, Hilda, I see that you are very happy," he replied gloomily, and +withdrawing his hand after a single pressure. "For me, I never was +less so than at this moment." + +"Has any misfortune befallen you?" asked Hilda with earnestness. +"Pray tell me, and you shall have my sympathy, though I must still be +very happy. Now I know how it is that the saints above are touched by +the sorrows of distressed people on earth, and yet are never made +wretched by them. Not that I profess to be a saint, you know," she +added, smiling radiantly. "But the heart grows so large, and so rich, +and so variously endowed, when it has a great sense of bliss, that it +can give smiles to some, and tears to others, with equal sincerity, +and enjoy its own peace throughout all." + +"Do not say you are no saint!" answered Kenyon with a smile, though he +felt that the tears stood in his eves. "You will still be Saint Hilda, +whatever church may canonize you." + +"Ah! you would not have said so, had you seen me but an hour ago!" +murmured she. "I was so wretched, that there seemed a grievous sin in +it." + +"And what has made you so suddenly happy?" inquired the sculptor. +"But first, Hilda, will you not tell me why you were so wretched?" + +"Had I met you yesterday, I might have told you that," she replied. +"To-day, there is no need." + +"Your happiness, then?" said the sculptor, as sadly as before. +"Whence comes it?" + +"A great burden has been lifted from my heart--from my conscience, I +had almost said"--answered Hilda, without shunning the glance that he +fixed upon her. "I am a new creature, since this morning, Heaven be +praised for it! It was a blessed hour--a blessed impulse--that +brought me to this beautiful and glorious cathedral. I shall hold it +in loving remembrance while I live, as the spot where I found infinite +peace after infinite trouble." + +Her heart seemed so full, that it spilt its new gush of happiness, as +it were, like rich and sunny wine out of an over-brimming goblet. +Kenyon saw that she was in one of those moods of elevated feeling, +when the soul is upheld by a strange tranquility, which is really +more passionate and less controllable than emotions far exceeding it +in violence. He felt that there would be indelicacy, if he ought not +rather to call it impiety, in his stealing upon Hilda, while she was +thus beyond her own guardianship, and surprising her out of secrets +which she might afterwards bitterly regret betraying to him. +Therefore, though yearning to know what had happened, he resolved to +forbear further question. + +Simple and earnest people, however, being accustomed to speak from +their genuine impulses, cannot easily, as craftier men do, avoid the +subject which they have at heart. As often as the sculptor unclosed +his lips, such words as these were ready to burst out:--"Hilda, have +you flung your angelic purity into that mass of unspeakable corruption, +the Roman Church?" + +"What were you saying?" she asked, as Kenyon forced back an almost +uttered exclamation of this kind. + +"I was thinking of what you have just remarked about the cathedral," +said he, looking up into the mighty hollow of the dome. "It is indeed +a magnificent structure, and an adequate expression of the Faith which +built it. When I behold it in a proper mood,--that is to say, when I +bring my mind into a fair relation with the minds and purposes of its +spiritual and material architects,--I see but one or two criticisms to +make. One is, that it needs painted windows." + +"O, no!" said Hilda. "They would be quite inconsistent with so much +richness of color in the interior of the church. Besides, it is a +Gothic ornament, and only suited to that style of architecture, which +requires a gorgeous dimness." + +"Nevertheless," continued the sculptor, "yonder square apertures, +filled with ordinary panes of glass, are quite out of keeping with the +superabundant splendor of everything about them. They remind me of +that portion of Aladdin's palace which he left unfinished, in order +that his royal father-in-law might put the finishing touch. Daylight, +in its natural state, ought not to be admitted here. It should stream +through a brilliant illusion of saints and hierarchies, and old +scriptural images, and symbolized dogmas, purple, blue, golden, and a +broad flame of scarlet. Then, it would be just such an illumination +as the Catholic faith allows to its believers. But, give me--to live +and die in--the pure, white light of heaven!" + +"Why do you look so sorrowfully at me?" asked Hilda, quietly meeting +his disturbed gaze. "What would you say to me? I love the white +light too!" + +"I fancied so," answered Kenyon. "Forgive me, Hilda; but I must needs +speak. You seemed to me a rare mixture of impressibility, sympathy, +sensitiveness to many influences, with a certain quality of common +sense;--no, not that, but a higher and finer attribute, for which I +find no better word. However tremulously you might vibrate, this +quality, I supposed, would always bring you back to the equipoise. +You were a creature of imagination, and yet as truly a New England +girl as any with whom you grew up in your native village. If there +were one person in the world whose native rectitude of thought, and +something deeper, more reliable, than thought, I would have trusted +against all the arts of a priesthood,--whose taste alone, so exquisite +and sincere that it rose to be a moral virtue, I would have rested +upon as a sufficient safeguard,--it was yourself!" + +"I am conscious of no such high and delicate qualities as you allow me," +answered Hilda. "But what have I done that a girl of New England +birth and culture, with the right sense that her mother taught her, +and the conscience that she developed in her, should not do?" + +"Hilda, I saw you at the confessional!" said Kenyon. + +"Ah well, my dear friend," replied Hilda, casting down her eyes, and +looking somewhat confused, yet not ashamed, "you must try to forgive +me for that, ~ if you deem it wrong, because it has saved my reason, +and made me very happy. Had you been here yesterday, I would have +confessed to you." + +"Would to Heaven I had!" ejaculated Kenyon. + +"I think," Hilda resumed," I shall never go to the confessional again; +for there can scarcely come such a sore trial twice in my life. If I +had been a wiser girl, a stronger, and a more sensible, very likely I +might not have gone to the confessional at all. It was the sin of +others that drove me thither; not my own, though it almost seemed so. +Being what I am, I must either have done what you saw me doing, or +have gone mad. Would that have been better?" + +"Then you are not a Catholic?" asked the sculptor earnestly. + +"Really, I do not quite know what I am," replied Hilda, encountering +his eyes with a frank and simple gaze. "I have a great deal of faith, +and Catholicism seems to have a great deal of good. Why should not I +be a Catholic, if I find there what I need, and what I cannot find +elsewhere? The more I see of this worship, the more I wonder at the +exuberance with which it adapts itself to all the demands of human +infirmity. If its ministers were but a little more than human, above +all error, pure from all iniquity, what a religion would it be!" + +"I need not fear your conversion to the Catholic faith," remarked +Kenyon, "if you are at all aware of the bitter sarcasm implied in your +last observation. It is very just. Only the exceeding ingenuity of +the system stamps it as the contrivance of man, or some worse author; +not an emanation of the broad and simple wisdom from on high." + +"It may be so," said Hilda; "but I meant no sarcasm." + +Thus conversing, the two friends went together down the grand extent +of the nave. Before leaving the church, they turned to admire again +its mighty breadth, the remoteness of the glory behind the altar, and +the effect of visionary splendor and magnificence imparted by the long +bars of smoky sunshine, which travelled so far before arriving at a +place of rest. + +"Thank Heaven for having brought me hither!" said Hilda fervently. + +Kenyon's mind was deeply disturbed by his idea of her Catholic +propensities; and now what he deemed her disproportionate and +misapplied veneration for the sublime edifice stung him into +irreverence. + +"The best thing I know of St. Peter's," observed he, "is its equable +temperature" We are now enjoying the coolness of last winter, which, a +few months hence, will be the warmth of the present summer. It has no +cure, I suspect, in all its length and breadth, for a sick soul, but +it would make an admirable atmospheric hospital for sick bodies. What +a delightful shelter would it be for the invalids who throng to Rome, +where the sirocco steals away their strength, and the tramontana stabs +them through and through, like cold steel with a poisoned point! But +within these walls, the thermometer never varies. Winter and summer +are married at the high altar, and dwell together in perfect harmony." + +"Yes," said Hilda; "and I have always felt this soft, unchanging +climate of St. Peter's to be another manifestation of its sanctity." + +"That is not precisely my idea," replied Kenyon. "But what a +delicious life it would be, if a colony of people with delicate lungs +or merely with delicate fancies--could take up their abode in this +ever-mild and tranquil air. These architectural tombs of the popes +might serve for dwellings, and each brazen sepulchral doorway would +become a domestic threshold. Then the lover, if he dared, might say +to his mistress, ' Will you share my tomb with me? ' and, winning her +soft consent, he would lead her to the altar, and thence to yonder +sepulchre of Pope Gregory, which should be their nuptial home. What a +life would be theirs, Hilda, in their marble Eden!" + +"It is not kind, nor like yourself," said Hilda gently, "to throw +ridicule on emotions which are genuine. I revere this glorious church +for itself and its purposes; and love it, moreover, because here I +have found sweet peace, after' a great anguish." + +"Forgive me," answered the sculptor, "and I will do so no more. My +heart is not so irreverent as my Words." + +They went through the piazza of St. Peter's and the adjacent streets, +silently at first; but, before reaching the bridge of St. Angelo, +Hilda's flow of spirits began to bubble forth, like the gush of a +streamlet that has been shut up by frost, or by a heavy stone over its +source. Kenyon had never found her so delightful as now; so softened +out of the chillness of her virgin pride; so full of fresh thoughts, +at which he was often moved to smile, although, on turning them over a +little more, he sometimes discovered that they looked fanciful only +because so absolutely true. + +But, indeed, she was not quite in a normal state. Emerging from gloom +into sudden cheerfulness, the effect upon Hilda was as if she were +just now created. After long torpor, receiving back her intellectual +activity, she derived an exquisite pleasure from the use of her +faculties, which were set in motion by causes that seemed inadequate. +She continually brought to Kenyon's mind the image of a child, making +its plaything of every object, but sporting in good faith, and with a +kind of seriousness. Looking up, for example, at the statue of St. +Michael, on the top of Hadrian's castellated tomb, Hilda fancied an +interview between the Archangel and the old emperor's ghost, who was +naturally displeased at finding his mausoleum, which he had ordained +for the stately and solemn repose of his ashes, converted to its +present purposes. + +"But St. Michael, no doubt," she thoughtfully remarked, "would finally +convince the Emperor Hadrian that where a warlike despot is sown as +the seed, a fortress and a prison are the only possible crop." + +They stopped on the bridge to look into the swift eddying flow of the +yellow Tiber, a mud puddle in strenuous motion; and Hilda wondered +whether the seven-branched golden candlestick,--the holy candlestick +of the Jews, which was lost at the Ponte Molle, in Constantine's time, +had yet been swept as far down the river as this. + +"It probably stuck where it fell," said the sculptor; "and, by this +time, is imbedded thirty feet deep in the mud of the Tiber. Nothing +will ever bring it to light again." + +"I fancy you are mistaken," replied Hilda, smiling. "There was a +meaning and purpose in each of its seven branches, and such a +candlestick cannot be lost forever. When it is found again, and seven +lights are kindled and burning in it, the whole world will gain the +illumination which it needs. Would not this be an admirable idea for +a mystic story or parable, or seven-branched allegory, full of poetry, +art, philosophy, and religion? It shall be called 'The Recovery of +the Sacred Candlestick.' As each branch is lighted, it shall have a +differently colored lustre from the other six; and when all the seven +are kindled, their radiance shall combine into the intense white light +of truth." + +"Positively, Hilda, this is a magnificent conception," cried Kenyon. +"The more I look at it, the brighter it burns." + +"I think so too," said Hilda, enjoying a childlike pleasure in her own +idea. "The theme is better suited for verse than prose; and when I go +home to America, I will suggest it to one of our poets. Or seven +poets might write the poem together, each lighting a separate branch +of the Sacred Candlestick." + +"Then you think of going home?" Kenyon asked. + +"Only yesterday," she replied, "I longed to flee away. Now, all is +changed, and, being happy again, I should feel deep regret at leaving +the Pictorial Land. But I cannot tell. In Rome, there is something +dreary and awful, which we can never quite escape. At least, I +thought so yesterday." + +When they reached the Via Portoghese, and approached Hilda's tower, +the doves, who were waiting aloft, flung themselves upon the air, and +came floating down about her head. The girl caressed them, and +responded to their cooings with similar sounds from her own lips, and +with words of endearment; and their joyful flutterings and airy little +flights, evidently impelled by pure exuberance of spirits, seemed to +show that the doves had a real sympathy with their mistress's state of +mind. For peace had descended upon her like a dove. + +Bidding the sculptor farewell, Hilda climbed her tower, and came forth +upon its summit to trim the Virgin's lamp. The doves, well knowing +her custom, had flown up thither to meet her, and again hovered about +her head; and very lovely was her aspect, in the evening Sunlight, +which had little further to do with the world just then, save to fling +a golden glory on Hilda's hair, and vanish. + +Turning her eyes down into the dusky street which she had just quitted, +Hilda saw the sculptor still there, and waved her hand to him. + +"How sad and dim he looks, down there in that dreary street!" she said +to herself. "Something weighs upon his spirits. Would I could +comfort him!" + +"How like a spirit she looks, aloft there, with the evening glory +round her head, and those winged creatures claiming her as akin to +them!" thought Kenyon, on his part. "How far above me! how +unattainable! Ah, if I could lift myself to her region! Or--if it be +not a sin to wish it--would that I might draw her down to an earthly +fireside!" + +What a sweet reverence is that, when a young man deems his mistress a +little more than mortal, and almost chides himself for longing to +bring her close to his heart! A trifling circumstance, but such as +lovers make much of, gave him hope. One of the doves, which had been +resting on Hilda's shoulder, suddenly flew downward, as if recognizing +him as its mistress's dear friend; and, perhaps commissioned with an +errand of regard, brushed his upturned face with its wings, and again +soared aloft. + +The sculptor watched the bird's return, and saw Hilda greet it with a +smile. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +SNOWDROPS AND MAIDENLY DELIGHTS + + +It being still considerably earlier than the period at which artists +and tourists are accustomed to assemble in Rome, the sculptor and +Hilda found themselves comparatively alone there. The dense mass of +native Roman life, in the midst of which they were, served to press +them near one another. It was as if they had been thrown together on +a desert island. Or they seemed to have wandered, by some strange +chance, out of the common world, and encountered each other in a +depopulated city, where there were streets of lonely palaces, and +unreckonable treasures of beautiful and admirable things, of which +they two became the sole inheritors. + +In such circumstances, Hilda's gentle reserve must have been stronger +than her kindly disposition permitted, if the friendship between +Kenyon and herself had not grown as warm as a maiden's friendship can +ever be, without absolutely and avowedly blooming into love. On the +sculptor's side, the amaranthine flower was already in full blow. But +it is very beautiful, though the lover's heart may grow chill at the +perception, to see how the snow will sometimes linger in a virgin's +breast, even after the spring is well advanced. In such alpine soils, +the summer will not be anticipated; we seek vainly for passionate +flowers, and blossoms of fervid hue and spicy fragrance, finding only +snowdrops and sunless violets, when it is almost the full season for +the crimson rose. + +With so much tenderness as Hilda had in her nature, it was strange +that she so reluctantly admitted the idea of love; especially as, in +the sculptor, she found both congeniality and variety of taste, and +likenesses and differences of character; these being as essential as +those to any poignancy of mutual emotion. + +So Hilda, as far as Kenyon could discern, still did not love him, +though she admitted him within the quiet circle of her affections as a +dear friend and trusty counsellor. If we knew what is best for us, or +could be content with what is reasonably good, the sculptor might well +have been satisfied, for a season, with this calm intimacy, which so +sweetly kept him a stranger in her heart, and a ceremonious guest; and +yet allowed him the free enjoyment of all but its deeper recesses. +The flowers that grow outside of those minor sanctities have a wild, +hasty charm, which it is well to prove; there may be sweeter ones +within the sacred precinct, but none that will die while you are +handling them, and bequeath you a delicious legacy, as these do, in +the perception of their evanescence and unreality. + +And this may be the reason, after all, why Hilda, like so many other +maidens, lingered on the hither side of passion; her finer instinct +and keener sensibility made her enjoy those pale delights in a degree +of which men are incapable. She hesitated to grasp a richer happiness, +as possessing already such measure of it as her heart could hold, and +of a quality most agreeable to her virgin tastes. + +Certainly, they both were very happy. Kenyon's genius, unconsciously +wrought upon by Hilda's influence, took a more delicate character than +heretofore. He modelled, among other things, a beautiful little +statue of maidenhood gathering a snowdrop. It was never put into +marble, however, because the sculptor soon recognized it as one of +those fragile creations which are true only to the moment that +produces them, and are wronged if we try to imprison their airy +excellence in a permanent material. + +On her part, Hilda returned to her customary Occupations with a fresh +love for them, and yet with a deeper look into the heart of things; +such as those necessarily acquire who have passed from picture +galleries into dungeon gloom, and thence come back to the picture +gallery again. It is questionable whether she was ever so perfect a +copyist thenceforth. She could not yield herself up to the painter so +unreservedly as in times past; her character had developed a sturdier +quality, which made her less pliable to the influence of other minds. +She saw into the picture as profoundly as ever, and perhaps more so, +but not with the devout sympathy that had formerly given her entire +possession of the old master's idea. She had known such a reality, +that it taught her to distinguish inevitably the large portion that is +unreal, in every work of art. Instructed by sorrow, she felt that +there is something beyond almost all which pictorial genius has +produced; and she never forgot those sad wanderings from gallery to +gallery, and from church to church, where she had vainly sought a type +of the Virgin Mother, or the Saviour, or saint, or martyr, which a +soul in extreme need might recognize as the adequate one. + +How, indeed, should she have found such? How could holiness be +revealed to the artist of an age when the greatest of them put genius +and imagination in the place of spiritual insight, and when, from the +pope downward, all Christendom was corrupt? + +Meanwhile, months wore away, and Rome received back that large portion +of its life-blood which runs in the veins of its foreign and temporary +population. English visitors established themselves in the hotels, +and in all the sunny suites of apartments, in the streets convenient +to the Piazza di Spagna; the English tongue was heard familiarly along +the Corso, and English children sported in the Pincian Gardens. + +The native Romans, on the other hand, like the butterflies and +grasshoppers, resigned themselves to the short, sharp misery which +winter brings to a people whose arrangements are made almost +exclusively with a view to summer. Keeping no fire within-doors, +except possibly a spark or two in the kitchen, they crept out of their +cheerless houses into the narrow, sunless, sepulchral streets, +bringing their firesides along with them, in the shape of little +earthen pots, vases, or pipkins, full of lighted charcoal and warm +ashes, over which they held their tingling finger-ends. Even in this +half-torpid wretchedness, they still seemed to dread a pestilence in +the sunshine, and kept on the shady side of the piazzas, as +scrupulously as in summer. Through the open doorways w no need to +shut them when the weather within was bleaker than without--a glimpse +into the interior of their dwellings showed the uncarpeted brick +floors, as dismal as the pavement of a tomb. + +They drew their old cloaks about them, nevertheless, and threw the +corners over their shoulders, with the dignity of attitude and action +that have come down to these modern citizens, as their sole +inheritance from the togated nation. Somehow or other, they managed +to keep up their poor, frost-bitten hearts against the pitiless +atmosphere with a quiet and uncomplaining endurance that really seems +the most respectable point in the present Roman character. For in New +England, or in Russia, or scarcely in a hut of the Esquimaux, there is +no such discomfort to be borne as by Romans in wintry weather, when +the orange-trees bear icy fruit in the gardens; and when the rims of +all the fountains are shaggy with icicles, and the Fountain of Trevi +skimmed almost across with a glassy surface; and when there is a slide +in the piazza of St. Peter's, and a fringe of brown, frozen foam along +the eastern shore of the Tiber, and sometimes a fall of great +snowflakes into the dreary lanes and alleys of the miserable city. +Cold blasts, that bring death with them, now blow upon the shivering +invalids, who came hither in the hope of breathing balmy airs. + +Wherever we pass our summers, may all our inclement months, from +November to April, henceforth be spent in some country that recognizes +winter as an integral portion of its year! + +Now, too, there was especial discomfort in the stately picture +galleries, where nobody, indeed,--not the princely or priestly +founders, nor any who have inherited their cheerless magnificence, +--ever dreamed of such an impossibility as fireside warmth, since +those great palaces were built. Hilda, therefore, finding her fingers +so much benumbed that the spiritual influence could not be transmitted +to them, was persuaded to leave her easel before a picture, on one of +these wintry days, and pay a visit to Kenyon's studio. But neither +was the studio anything better than a dismal den, with its marble +shapes shivering around the walls, cold as the snow images which the +sculptor used to model in his boyhood, and sadly behold them weep +themselves away at the first thaw. + +Kenyon's Roman artisans, all this while, had been at work on the +Cleopatra. The fierce Egyptian queen had now struggled almost out of +the imprisoning stone; or, rather, the workmen had found her within +the mass of marble, imprisoned there by magic, but still fervid to the +touch with fiery life, the fossil woman of an age that produced +statelier, stronger, and more passionate creatures than our own. You +already felt her compressed heat, and were aware of a tiger-like +character even in her repose. If Octavius should make his appearance, +though the marble still held her within its embrace, it was evident +that she would tear herself forth in a twinkling, either to spring +enraged at his throat, or, sinking into his arms, to make one more +proof of her rich blandishments, or, falling lowly at his feet, to try +the efficacy of a woman's tears. + +"I am ashamed to tell you how much I admire this statue," said Hilda. +"No other sculptor could have done it." + +"This is very sweet for me to hear," replied Kenyon; "and since your +reserve keeps you from saying more, I shall imagine you expressing +everything that an artist would wish to hear said about his work." + +"You will not easily go beyond my genuine opinion," answered Hilda, +with a smile. + +"Ah, your kind word makes me very happy," said the sculptor, "and I +need it, just now, on behalf of my Cleopatra. That inevitable period +has come,--for I have found it inevitable, in regard to all my works, +--when I look at what I fancied to be a statue, lacking only breath to +make it live, and find it a mere lump of senseless stone, into which I +have not really succeeded in moulding the spiritual part of my idea. +I should like, now,--only it would be such shameful treatment for a +discrowned queen, and my own offspring too,--I should like to hit poor +Cleopatra a bitter blow on her Egyptian nose with this mallet." + +"That is a blow which all statues seem doomed to receive, sooner or +later, though seldom from the hand that sculptured them," said Hilda, +laughing. "But you must not let yourself be too much disheartened by +the decay of your faith in what you produce. I have heard a poet +express similar distaste for his own most exquisite poem, and I am +afraid that this final despair, and sense of short-coming, must always +be the reward and punishment of those who try to grapple with a great +or beautiful idea. It only proves that you have been able to imagine +things too high for mortal faculties to execute. The idea leaves you +an imperfect image of itself, which you at first mistake for the +ethereal reality, but soon find that the latter has escaped out of +your closest embrace." + +"And the only consolation is," remarked Kenyon, "that the blurred and +imperfect image may still make a very respectable appearance in the +eyes of those who have not seen the original." + +"More than that," rejoined Hilda; "for there is a class of spectators +whose sympathy will help them to see the perfect through a mist of +imperfection. Nobody, I think, ought to read poetry, or look at +pictures or statues, who cannot find a great deal more in them than +the poet or artist has actually expressed. Their highest merit is +suggestiveness." + +"You, Hilda, are yourself the only critic in whom I have much faith," +said Kenyon. "Had you condemned Cleopatra, nothing should have saved +her." + +"You invest me with such an awful responsibility," she replied, "that +I shall not dare to say a single word about your other works." + +"At least," said the sculptor, "tell me whether you recognize this +bust?" + +He pointed to a bust of Donatello. It was not the one which Kenyon +had begun to model at Monte Beni, but a reminiscence of the Count's +face, wrought under the influence of all the sculptor's knowledge of +his history, and of his personal and hereditary character. It stood +on a wooden pedestal, not nearly finished, but with fine white dust +and small chips of marble scattered about it, and itself incrusted all +round with the white, shapeless substance of the block. In the midst +appeared the features, lacking sharpness, and very much resembling a +fossil countenance,--but we have already used this simile, in +reference to Cleopatra, with the accumulations of long-past ages +clinging to it. + +And yet, strange to say, the face had an expression, and a more +recognizable one than Kenyon had succeeded in putting into the clay +model at Monte Beni. The reader is probably acquainted with +Thorwaldsen's three-fold analogy,--the clay model, the Life; the +plaster cast, the Death; and the sculptured marble, the Resurrection, +--and it seemed to be made good by the spirit that was kindling up +these imperfect features, like a lambent flame. + +"I was not quite sure, at first glance, that I knew the face," +observed Hilda; "the likeness surely is not a striking one. There is +a good deal of external resemblance, still, to the features of the +Faun of Praxiteles, between whom and Donatello, you know, we once +insisted that there was a perfect twin-brotherhood. But the +expression is now so very different!" + +"What do you take it to be?" asked the sculptor. + +"I hardly know how to define it," she answered. "But it has an effect +as if I could see this countenance gradually brightening while I look +at it. It gives the impression of a growing intellectual power and +moral sense. Donatello's face used to evince little more than a +genial, pleasurable sort of vivacity, and capability of enjoyment. +But here, a soul is being breathed into him; it is the Faun, but +advancing towards a state of higher development." + +"Hilda, do you see all this?" exclaimed Kenyon, in considerable +surprise. "I may have had such an idea in my mind, but was quite +unaware that I had succeeded in conveying it into the marble." + +"Forgive me," said Hilda, "but I question whether this striking effect +has been brought about by any skill or purpose on the sculptor's part. +Is it not, perhaps, the chance result of the bust being just so far +shaped out, in the marble, as the process of moral growth had advanced +in the original? A few more strokes of the chisel might change the +whole expression, and so spoil it for what it is now worth." + +"I believe you are right," answered Kenyon, thoughtfully examining his +work; "and, strangely enough, it was the very expression that I tried +unsuccessfully to produce in the clay model. Well; not another chip +shall be struck from the marble." + +And, accordingly, Donatello's bust (like that rude, rough mass of the +head of Brutus, by Michael Angelo, at Florence) has ever since +remained in an unfinished state. Most spectators mistake it for an +unsuccessful attempt towards copying the features of the Faun of +Praxiteles. One observer in a thousand is conscious of something more, +and lingers long over this mysterious face, departing from it +reluctantly, and with many a glance thrown backward. What perplexes +him is the riddle that he sees propounded there; the riddle of the +soul's growth, taking its first impulse amid remorse and pain, and +struggling through the incrustations of the senses. It was the +contemplation of this imperfect portrait of Donatello that originally +interested us in his history, and impelled us to elicit from Kenyon +what he knew of his friend's adventures. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +REMINISCENCES OF MIRIAM + + +When Hilda and himself turned away from the unfinished bust, the +sculptor's mind still dwelt upon the reminiscences which it suggested. +"You have not seen Donatello recently," he remarked, "and therefore +cannot be aware how sadly he is changed." + +"No wonder!" exclaimed Hilda, growing pale. + +The terrible scene which she had witnessed, when Donatello's face +gleamed out in so fierce a light, came back upon her memory, almost +for the first time since she knelt at the confessional. Hilda, as is +sometimes the case with persons whose delicate organization requires a +peculiar safeguard, had an elastic faculty of throwing off such +recollections as would be too painful for endurance. The first shock +of Donatello's and Miriam's crime had, indeed, broken through the +frail defence of this voluntary forgetfulness; but, once enabled to +relieve herself of the ponderous anguish over which she had so long +brooded, she had practised a subtile watchfulness in preventing its +return. + +"No wonder, do you say?" repeated the sculptor, looking at her with +interest, but not exactly with surprise; for he had long suspected +that Hilda had a painful knowledge of events which he himself little +more than surmised. "Then you know!--you have heard! But what can +you possibly have heard, and through what channel?" + +"Nothing!" replied Hilda faintly. "Not one word has reached my ears +from the lips of any human being. Let us never speak of it again! No, +no! never again!" + +"And Miriam!" said Kenyon, with irrepressible interest. "Is it also +forbidden to speak of her?" + +"Hush! do not even utter her name! Try not to think of it!" Hilda +whispered. "It may bring terrible consequences!" + +"My dear Hilda!" exclaimed Kenyon, regarding her with wonder and deep +sympathy. "My sweet friend, have you had this secret hidden in your +delicate, maidenly heart, through all these many months! No wonder +that your life was withering out of you." + +"It was so, indeed!" said Hilda, shuddering. "Even now, I sicken at +the recollection." + +"And how could it have come to your knowledge?" continued the sculptor. +"But no matter! Do not torture yourself with referring to the +subject. Only, if at any time it should be a relief to you, remember +that we can speak freely together, for Miriam has herself suggested a +confidence between us." + +"Miriam has suggested this!" exclaimed Hilda. "Yes, I remember, now, +her advising that the secret should be shared with you. But I have +survived the death struggle that it cost me, and need make no further +revelations. And Miriam has spoken to you! What manner of woman can +she be, who, after sharing in such a deed, can make it a topic of +conversation with her friends?" + +"Ah, Hilda," replied Kenyon, "you do not know, for you could never +learn it from your own heart, which is all purity and rectitude, what +a mixture of good there may be in things evil; and how the greatest +criminal, if you look at his conduct from his own point of view, or +from any side point, may seem not so unquestionably guilty, after all. +So with Miriam; so with Donatello. They are, perhaps, partners in +what we must call awful guilt; and yet, I will own to you,--when I +think of the original cause, the motives, the feelings, the sudden +concurrence of circumstances thrusting them onward, the urgency of the +moment, and the sublime unselfishness on either part,--I know not well +how to distinguish it from much that the world calls heroism. Might +we not render some such verdict as this?--'Worthy of Death, but not +unworthy of Love! '" + +"Never!" answered Hilda, looking at the matter through the clear +crystal medium of her own integrity. "This thing, as regards its +causes, is all a mystery to me, and must remain so. But there is, I +believe, only one right and one wrong; and I do not understand, and +may God keep me from ever understanding, how two things so totally +unlike can be mistaken for one another; nor how two mortal foes, as +Right and Wrong surely are, can work together in the same deed. This +is my faith; and I should be led astray, if you could persuade me to +give it up." + +"Alas for poor human nature, then!" said Kenyon sadly, and yet half +smiling at Hilda's unworldly and impracticable theory. "I always felt +you, my dear friend, a terribly severe judge, and have been perplexed +to conceive how such tender sympathy could coexist with the +remorselessness of a steel blade. You need no mercy, and therefore +know not how to show any." + +"That sounds like a bitter gibe," said Hilda, with the tears springing +into her eyes. "But I cannot help it. It does not alter my +perception of the truth. If there be any such dreadful mixture of +good and evil as you affirm,--and which appears to me almost more +shocking than pure evil,--then the good is turned to poison, not the +evil to wholesomeness." + +The sculptor seemed disposed to say something more, but yielded to the +gentle steadfastness with which Hilda declined to listen. She grew +very sad; for a reference to this one dismal topic had set, as it were, +a prison door ajar, and allowed a throng of torturing recollections +to escape from their dungeons into the pure air and white radiance of +her soul. She bade Kenyon a briefer farewell than ordinary, and went +homeward to her tower. + +In spite of her efforts to withdraw them to other subjects, her +thoughts dwelt upon Miriam; and, as had not heretofore happened, they +brought with them a painful doubt whether a wrong had not been +committed on Hilda's part, towards the friend once so beloved. +Something that Miriam had said, in their final conversation, recurred +to her memory, and seemed now to deserve more weight than Hilda had +assigned to it, in her horror at the crime just perpetrated. It was +not that the deed looked less wicked and terrible in the retrospect; +but she asked herself whether there were not other questions to be +considered, aside from that single one of Miriam's guilt or innocence; +as, for example, whether a close bond of friendship, in which we once +voluntarily engage, ought to be severed on account of any unworthiness, +which we subsequently detect in our friend. For, in these unions of +hearts,--call them marriage, or whatever else,--we take each other for +better for worse. Availing ourselves of our friend's intimate +affection, we pledge our own, as to be relied upon in every emergency. +And what sadder, more desperate emergency could there be, than had +befallen Miriam? Who more need the tender succor of the innocent, +than wretches stained with guilt! And must a selfish care for the +spotlessness of our own garments keep us from pressing the guilty ones +close to our hearts, wherein, for the very reason that we are innocent, +lies their securest refuge from further ill? + +It was a sad thing for Hilda to find this moral enigma propounded to +her conscience; and to feel that, whichever way she might settle it, +there would be a cry of wrong on the other side. Still, the idea +stubbornly came back, that the tie between Miriam and herself had been +real, the affection true, and that therefore the implied compact was +not to be shaken off. + +"Miriam loved me well," thought Hilda remorsefully, "and I failed her +at her sorest need." + +Miriam loved her well; and not less ardent had been the affection +which Miriam's warm, tender, and generous characteristics had excited +in Hilda's more reserved and quiet nature. It had never been +extinguished; for, in part, the wretchedness which Hilda had since +endured was but the struggle and writhing of her sensibility, still +yearning towards her friend. And now, at the earliest encouragement, +it awoke again, and cried out piteously, complaining of the violence +that had been done it. + +Recurring to the delinquencies of which she fancied (we say "fancied," +because we do not unhesitatingly adopt Hilda's present view, but +rather suppose her misled by her feelings)--of which she fancied +herself guilty towards her friend, she suddenly remembered a sealed +packet that Miriam had confided to her. It had been put into her +hands with earnest injunctions of secrecy and care, and if unclaimed +after a certain period, was to be delivered according to its address. +Hilda had forgotten it; or, rather, she had kept the thought of this +commission in the background of her consciousness, with all other +thoughts referring to Miriam. + +But now the recollection of this packet, and the evident stress which +Miriam laid upon its delivery at the specified time, impelled Hilda to +hurry up the staircase of her tower, dreading lest the period should +already have elapsed. + +No; the hour had not gone by, but was on the very point of passing. +Hilda read the brief note of instruction, on a corner of the envelope, +and discovered, that, in case of Miriam's absence from Rome, the +packet was to be taken to its destination that very day. + +"How nearly I had violated my promise!" said Hilda. "And, since we +are separated forever, it has the sacredness of an injunction from a +dead friend. There is no time to be lost." + +So Hilda set forth in the decline of the afternoon, and pursued her +way towards the quarter of the city in which stands the Palazzo Cenci. +Her habit of self-reliance was so simply strong, so natural, and now +so well established by long use, that the idea of peril seldom or +never occurred to Hilda, in her lonely life. + +She differed, in this particular, from the generality of her sex, +--although the customs and character of her native land often produce +women who meet the world with gentle fearlessness, and discover that +its terrors have been absurdly exaggerated by the tradition of mankind. +In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the apprehensiveness of women +is quite gratuitous. Even as matters now stand, they are really safer +in perilous situations and emergencies than men; and might be still +more so, if they trusted themselves more confidingly to the chivalry +of manhood. In all her wanderings about Rome, Hilda had gone and +returned as securely as she had been accustomed to tread the familiar +street of her New England village, where every face wore a look of +recognition. With respect to whatever was evil, foul, and ugly, in +this populous and corrupt city, she trod as if invisible, and not only +so, but blind. She was altogether unconscious of anything wicked that +went along the same pathway, but without jostling or impeding her, any +more than gross substance hinders the wanderings of a spirit. Thus it +is, that, bad as the world is said to have grown, innocence continues +to make a paradise around itself, and keep it still unfallen. + +Hilda's present expedition led her into what was--physically, at +least--the foulest and ugliest part of Rome. In that vicinity lies +the Ghetto, where thousands of Jews are crowded within a narrow +compass, and lead a close, unclean, and multitudinous life, resembling +that of maggots when they over-populate a decaying cheese. + +Hilda passed on the borders of this region, but had no occasion to +step within it. Its neighborhood, however, naturally partook of +characteristics 'like its own. There was a confusion of black and +hideous houses, piled massively out of the ruins of former ages; rude +and destitute of plan, as a pauper would build his hovel, and yet +displaying here and there an arched gateway, a cornice, a pillar, or a +broken arcade, that might have adorned a palace. Many of the houses, +indeed, as they stood, might once have been palaces, and possessed +still a squalid kind of grandeur. Dirt was everywhere, strewing the +narrow streets, and incrusting the tall shabbiness of the edifices, +from the foundations to the roofs; it lay upon the thresholds, and +looked out of the windows, and assumed the guise of human life in the +children that Seemed to be engendered out of it. Their father was the +sun, and their mother--a heap of Roman mud. + +It is a question of speculative interest, whether the ancient Romans +were as unclean a people as we everywhere find those who have +succeeded them. There appears to be a kind of malignant spell in the +spots that have been inhabited by these masters of the world, or made +famous in their history; an inherited and inalienable curse, impelling +their successors to fling dirt and defilement upon whatever temple, +column, mined palace, or triumphal arch may be nearest at hand, and on +every monument that the old Romans built. It is most probably a +classic trait, regularly transmitted downward, and perhaps a little +modified by the better civilization of Christianity; so that Caesar +may have trod narrower and filthier ways in his path to the Capitol, +than even those of modern Rome. + +As the paternal abode of Beatrice, the gloomy old palace of the Cencis +had an interest for Hilda, although not sufficiently strong, hitherto, +to overcome the disheartening effect of the exterior, and draw her +over its threshold. The adjacent piazza, of poor aspect, contained +only an old woman selling roasted chestnuts and baked squash-seeds; +she looked sharply at Hilda, and inquired whether she had lost her way. + + +"No," said Hilda; "I seek the Palazzo Cenci." + +"Yonder it is, fair signorina," replied the Roman matron. "If you +wish that packet delivered, which I see in your hand, my grandson +Pietro shall run with it for a baiocco. The Cenci palace is a spot of +ill omen for young maidens." + +Hilda thanked the old dame, but alleged the necessity of doing her +errand in person. She approached the front of the palace, which, with +all its immensity, had but a mean appearance, and seemed an abode +which the lovely shade of Beatrice would not be apt to haunt, unless +her doom made it inevitable. Some soldiers stood about the portal, +and gazed at the brown-haired, fair-cheeked Anglo-Saxon girl, with +approving glances, but not indecorously. Hilda began to ascend the +staircase, three lofty flights of which were to be surmounted, before +reaching the door whither she was bound. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + + +THE EXTINCTION OF A LAMP + +Between Hilda and the sculptor there had been a kind of half-expressed +understanding, that both were to visit the galleries of the Vatican +the day subsequent to their meeting at the studio. Kenyon, +accordingly, failed not to be there, and wandered through the vast +ranges of apartments, but saw nothing of his expected friend. The +marble faces, which stand innumerable along the walls, and have kept +themselves so calm through the vicissitudes of twenty centuries, had +no sympathy for his disappointment; and he, on the other hand, strode +past these treasures and marvels of antique art, with the indifference +which any preoccupation of the feelings is apt to produce, in +reference to objects of sculpture. Being of so cold and pure a +substance, and mostly deriving their vitality more from thought than +passion, they require to be seen through a perfectly transparent +medium. + +And, moreover, Kenyon had counted so much upon Hilda's delicate +perceptions in enabling him to look at two or three of the statues, +about which they had talked together, that the entire purpose of his +visit was defeated by her absence. It is a delicious sort of mutual +aid, when the united power of two sympathetic, yet dissimilar, +intelligences is brought to bear upon a poem by reading it aloud, or +upon a picture or statue by viewing it in each other's company. Even +if not a word of criticism be uttered, the insight of either party is +wonderfully deepened, and the comprehension broadened; so that the +inner mystery of a work of genius, hidden from one, will often reveal +itself to two. Missing such help, Kenyon saw nothing at the Vatican +which he had not seen a thousand times before, and more perfectly than +now. + +In the chili of his disappointment, he suspected that it was a very +cold art to which he had devoted himself. He questioned, at that +moment, whether sculpture really ever softens and warms the material +which it handles; whether carved marble is anything but limestone, +after all; and whether the Apollo Belvedere itself possesses any merit +above its physical beauty, or is beyond criticism even in that +generally acknowledged excellence. In flitting glances, heretofore, +he had seemed to behold this statue, as something ethereal and godlike, +but not now. + +Nothing pleased him, unless it were the group of the Laocoon, which, +in its immortal agony, impressed Kenyon as a type of the long, fierce +struggle of man, involved in the knotted entanglements of Error and +Evil, those two snakes, which, if no divine help intervene, will be +sure to strangle him and his children in the end. What he most +admired was the strange calmness diffused through this bitter strife; +so that it resembled the rage of the sea made calm by its immensity,' +or the tumult of Niagara which ceases to be tumult because it lasts +forever. Thus, in the Laocoon, the horror of a moment grew to be the +fate of interminable ages. Kenyon looked upon the group as the one +triumph of sculpture, creating the repose, which is essential to it, +in the very acme of turbulent effort; but, in truth, it was his mood +of unwonted despondency that made him so sensitive to the terrible +magnificence, as well as to the sad moral, of this work. Hilda +herself could not have helped him to see it with nearly such +intelligence. + +A good deal more depressed than the nature of the disappointment +warranted, Kenyon went to his studio, and took in hand a great lump of +clay. He soon found, however, that his plastic cunning had departed +from him for the time. So he wandered forth again into the uneasy +streets of Rome, and walked up and down the Corso, where, at that +period of the day, a throng of passers-by and loiterers choked up the +narrow sidewalk. A penitent was thus brought in contact with the +sculptor. + +It was a figure in a white robe, with a kind of featureless mask over +the face, through the apertures of which the eyes threw an +unintelligible light. Such odd, questionable shapes are often seen +gliding through the streets of Italian cities, and are understood to +be usually persons of rank, who quit their palaces, their gayeties, +their pomp and pride, and assume the penitential garb for a season, +with a view of thus expiating some crime, or atoning for the aggregate +of petty sins that make up a worldly life. It is their custom to ask +alms, and perhaps to measure the duration of their penance by the time +requisite to accumulate a sum of money out of the little droppings of +individual charity. The avails are devoted to some beneficent or +religious purpose; so that the benefit accruing to their own souls is, +in a manner, linked with a good done, or intended, to their fellow-men. +These figures have a ghastly and startling effect, not so much from +any very impressive peculiarity in the garb, as from the mystery which +they bear about with them, and the sense that there is an acknowledged +sinfulness as the nucleus of it. + +In the present instance, however, the penitent asked no alms of Kenyon; +although, for the space of a minute or two, they stood face to face, +the hollow eyes of the mask encountering the sculptor's gaze. But, +just as the crowd was about to separate them, the former spoke, in a +voice not unfamiliar to Kenyon, though rendered remote and strange by +the guilty veil through which it penetrated. + +"Is all well with you, Signore?" inquired the penitent, out of the +cloud in which he walked. + +"All is well," answered Kenyon. "And with you?" + +But the masked penitent returned no answer, being borne away by the +pressure of the throng. + +The sculptor stood watching the figure, and was almost of a mind to +hurry after him and follow up the conversation that had been begun; +but it occurred to him that there is a sanctity (or, as we might +rather term it, an inviolable etiquette) which prohibits the +recognition of persons who choose to walk under the veil of penitence. + +"How strange!" thought Kenyon to himself. "It was surely Donatello! +What can bring him to Rome, where his recollections must be so painful, +and his presence not without peril? And Miriam! Can she have +accompanied him?" + +He walked on, thinking of the vast change in Donatello, since those +days of gayety and innocence, when the young Italian was new in Rome, +and was just beginning to be sensible of a more poignant felicity than +he had yet experienced, in the sunny warmth of Miriam's smile. The +growth of a soul, which the sculptor half imagined that he had +witnessed in his friend, seemed hardly worth the heavy price that it +had cost, in the sacrifice of those simple enjoyments that were gone +forever. A creature of antique healthfulness had vanished from the +earth; and, in his stead, there was only one other morbid and +remorseful man, among millions that were cast in the same +indistinguishable mould. + +The accident of thus meeting Donatello the glad Faun of his +imagination and memory, now transformed into a gloomy +penitent--contributed to deepen the cloud that had fallen over +Kenyon's spirits. It caused him to fancy, as we generally do, in the +petty troubles which extend not a hand's-breadth beyond our own sphere, +that the whole world was saddening around him. It took the sinister +aspect of an omen, although he could not distinctly see what trouble +it might forebode. + +If it had not been for a peculiar sort of pique, with which lovers are +much conversant, a preposterous kind of resentment which endeavors to +wreak itself on the beloved object, and on one's own heart, in +requital of mishaps for which neither are in fault, Kenyon might at +once have betaken himself to Hilda's studio, and asked why the +appointment was not kept. But the interview of to-day was to have +been so rich in present joy, and its results so important to his +future life, that the bleak failure was too much for his equanimity. +He was angry with poor Hilda, and censured her without a hearing; +angry with himself, too, and therefore inflicted on this latter +criminal the severest penalty in his power; angry with the day that +was passing over him, and would not permit its latter hours to redeem +the disappointment of the morning. + +To confess the truth, it had been the sculptor's purpose to stake all +his hopes on that interview in the galleries of the Vatican. Straying +with Hilda through those long vistas of ideal beauty, he meant, at +last, to utter himself upon that theme which lovers are fain to +discuss in village lanes, in wood paths, on seaside sands, in crowded +streets; it little matters where, indeed, since roses are sure to +blush along the way, and daisies and violets to spring beneath the +feet, if the spoken word be graciously received. He was resolved to +make proof whether the kindness that Hilda evinced for him was the +precious token of an individual preference, or merely the sweet +fragrance of her disposition, which other friends might share as +largely as himself. He would try if it were possible to take this shy, +yet frank, and innocently fearless creature captive, and imprison her +in his heart, and make her sensible of a wider freedom there, than in +all the world besides. + +It was hard, we must allow, to see the shadow of a wintry sunset +falling upon a day that was to have been so bright, and to find +himself just where yesterday had left him, only with a sense of being +drearily balked, and defeated without an opportunity for struggle. So +much had been anticipated from these now vanished hours, that it +seemed as if no other day could bring back the same golden hopes. + +In a case like this, it is doubtful whether Kenyon could have done a +much better thing than he actually did, by going to dine at the Cafe +Nuovo, and drinking a flask of Montefiascone; longing, the while, for +a beaker or two of Donatello's Sunshine. It would have been just the +wine to cure a lover's melancholy, by illuminating his heart with +tender light and warmth, and suggestions of undefined hopes, too +ethereal for his morbid humor to examine and reject them. + +No decided improvement resulting from the draught of Montefiascone, he +went to the Teatro Argentino, and sat gloomily to see an Italian +comedy, which ought to have cheered him somewhat, being full of +glancing merriment, and effective over everybody's disabilities except +his own. The sculptor came out, however, before the close of the +performance, as disconsolate as he went in. + +As he made his way through the complication of narrow streets, which +perplex that portion of the city, a carriage passed him. It was +driven rapidly, but not too fast for the light of a gas-lamp to flare +upon a face within--especially as it was bent forward, appearing to +recognize him, while a beckoning hand was protruded from the window. +On his part, Kenyon at once knew the face, and hastened to the +carriage, which had now stopped. + +"Miriam! you in Rome?" he exclaimed "And your friends know nothing of +it?" + +"Is all well with you?" she asked. + +This inquiry, in the identical words which Donatello had so recently +addressed to him from beneath the penitent's mask, startled the +sculptor. Either the previous disquietude of his mind, or some tone +in Miriam's voice, or the unaccountableness of beholding her there at +all, made it seem ominous. + +"All is well, I believe," answered he doubtfully. "I am aware of no +misfortune. Have you any to announce'?" + +He looked still more earnestly at Miriam, and felt a dreamy +uncertainty whether it was really herself to whom he spoke. True; +there were those beautiful features, the contour of which he had +studied too often, and with a sculptor's accuracy of perception, to be +in any doubt that it was Miriam's identical face. But he was +conscious of a change, the nature of which he could not satisfactorily +define; it might be merely her dress, which, imperfect as the light +was, he saw to be richer than the simple garb that she had usually +worn. The effect, he fancied, was partly owing to a gem which she had +on her bosom; not a diamond, but something that glimmered with a clear, +red lustre, like the stars in a southern sky. Somehow or other, this +colored light seemed an emanation of herself, as if all that was +passionate and glowing in her native disposition had crystallized upon +her breast, and were just now scintillating more brilliantly than ever, +in sympathy with some emotion of her heart. + +Of course there could be no real doubt that it was Miriam, his artist +friend, with whom and Hilda he had spent so many pleasant and familiar +hours, and whom he had last seen at Perugia, bending with Donatello +beneath the bronze pope's benediction. It must be that selfsame +Miriam; but the sensitive sculptor felt a difference of manner, which +impressed him more than he conceived it possible to be affected by so +external a thing. He remembered the gossip so prevalent in Rome on +Miriam's first appearance; how that she was no real artist, but the +daughter of an illustrious or golden lineage, who was merely playing +at necessity; mingling with human struggle for her pastime; stepping +out of her native sphere only for an interlude, just as a princess +might alight from her gilded equipage to go on foot through a rustic +lane. And now, after a mask in which love and death had performed +their several parts, she had resumed her proper character. + +"Have you anything to tell me?" cried he impatiently; for nothing +causes a more disagreeable vibration of the nerves than this +perception of ambiguousness in familiar persons or affairs. "Speak; +for my spirits and patience have been much tried to-day." + +Miriam put her finger on her lips, and seemed desirous that Kenyon +should know of the presence of a third person. He now saw, indeed, +that, there was some one beside her in the carriage, hitherto +concealed by her attitude; a man, it appeared, with a sallow Italian +face, which the sculptor distinguished but imperfectly, and did not +recognize. + +"I can tell you nothing," she replied; and leaning towards him, she +whispered,--appearing then more like the Miriam whom he knew than in +what had before passed,--"Only, when the lamp goes out do not despair." + +The carriage drove on, leaving Kenyon to muse over this unsatisfactory +interview, which seemed to have served no better purpose than to fill +his mind with more ominous forebodings than before. Why were +Donatello and Miriam in Rome, where both, in all likelihood, might +have much to dread? And why had one and the other addressed him with +a question that seemed prompted by a knowledge of some calamity, +either already fallen on his unconscious head, or impending closely +over him? + +"I am sluggish," muttered Kenyon, to himself; "a weak, nerveless fool, +devoid of energy and promptitude; or neither Donatello nor Miriam +could have escaped me thus! They are aware of some misfortune that +concerns me deeply. How soon am I to know it too?" + +There seemed but a single calamity possible to happen within so narrow +a sphere as that with which the sculptor was connected; and even to +that one mode of evil he could assign no definite shape, but only felt +that it must have some reference to Hilda. + +Flinging aside the morbid hesitation, and the dallyings with his own +wishes, which he had permitted to influence his mind throughout the +day, he now hastened to the Via Portoghese. Soon the old palace stood +before him, with its massive tower rising into the clouded night; +obscured from view at its midmost elevation, but revealed again, +higher upward, by the Virgin's lamp that twinkled on the summit. +Feeble as it was, in the broad, surrounding gloom, that little ray +made no inconsiderable illumination among Kenyon's sombre thoughts; +for; remembering Miriam's last words, a fantasy had seized him that he +should find the sacred lamp extinguished. + +And even while he stood gazing, as a mariner at the star in which he +put his trust, the light quivered, sank, gleamed up again, and finally +went out, leaving the battlements of Hilda's tower in utter darkness. +For the first time in centuries, the consecrated and legendary flame +before the loftiest shrine in Rome had ceased to burn. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + + +THE DESERTED SHRINE + + +Kenyon knew the sanctity which Hilda (faithful Protestant, and +daughter of the Puritans, as the girl was) imputed to this shrine. He +was aware of the profound feeling of responsibility, as well earthly +as religious, with which her conscience had been impressed, when she +became the occupant of her aerial chamber, and undertook the task of +keeping the consecrated lamp alight. There was an accuracy and a +certainty about Hilda's movements, as regarded all matters that lay +deep enough to have their roots in right or wrong, which made it as +possible and safe to rely upon the timely and careful trimming of this +lamp (if she were in life, and able to creep up the steps), as upon +the rising of to-morrow's sun, with lustre-undiminished from to-day. + +The sculptor could scarcely believe his eyes, therefore, when he saw +the flame flicker and expire. His sight had surely deceived him. And +now, since the light did not reappear, there must be some smoke wreath +or impenetrable mist brooding about the tower's gray old head, and +obscuring it from the lower world. But no! For right over the dim +battlements, as the wind chased away a mass of clouds, he beheld a +star, and moreover, by an earnest concentration of his sight, was soon +able to discern even the darkened shrine itself. There was no +obscurity around the tower; no infirmity of his own vision. The flame +had exhausted its supply of oil, and become extinct. But where was +Hilda? + +A man in a cloak happened to be passing; and Kenyon--anxious to +distrust the testimony of his senses, if he could get more acceptable +evidence on the other side--appealed to him. + +"Do me the favor, Signore," said he, "to look at the top of yonder +tower, and tell me whether you see the lamp burning at the Virgin's +shrine." + +"The lamp, Signore?" answered the man, without at first troubling +himself to look up. "The lamp that has burned these four hundred +years! How is it possible, Signore, that it should not be burning +now?" "But look!" said the sculptor impatiently. With good-natured +indulgence for what he seemed to consider as the whim of an eccentric +Forestiero, the Italian carelessly threw his eyes upwards; but, as +soon as he perceived that there was really no light, he lifted his +hands with a vivid expression of wonder and alarm. + +"The lamp is extinguished!" cried he. "The lamp that has been burning +these four hundred years! This surely must portend some great +misfortune; and, by my advice, Signore, you will hasten hence, lest +the tower tumble on our heads. A priest once told me that, if the +Virgin withdrew her blessing and the light went out, the old Palazzo +del Torte would sink into the earth, with all that dwell in it. There +will be a terrible crash before morning!" + +The stranger made the best of his way from the doomed premises; while +Kenyon--who would willingly have seen the tower crumble down before +his eyes, on condition of Hilda's safety--determined, late as it was, +to attempt ascertaining if she were in her dove-cote. + +Passing through the arched entrance,--which, as is often the case with +Roman entrances, was as accessible at midnight as at noon,--he groped +his way to the broad staircase, and, lighting his wax taper, went +glimmering up the multitude of steps that led to Hilda's door. The +hour being so unseasonable, he intended merely to knock, and, as soon +as her voice from within should reassure him, to retire, keeping his +explanations and apologies for a fitter time. Accordingly, reaching +the lofty height where the maiden, as he trusted, lay asleep, with +angels watching over her, though the Virgin seemed to have suspended +her care, he tapped lightly at the door panels,--then knocked more +forcibly,--then thundered an impatient summons. No answer came; Hilda, +evidently, was not there. + +After assuring himself that this must be the fact, Kenyon descended +the stairs, but made a pause at every successive stage, and knocked at +the door of its apartment, regardless whose slumbers he might disturb, +in his anxiety to learn where the girl had last been seen. But, at +each closed entrance, there came those hollow echoes, which a chamber, +or any dwelling, great or small, never sends out, in response to human +knuckles or iron hammer, as long as there is life within to keep its +heart from getting dreary. + +Once indeed, on the lower landing-place, the sculptor fancied that +there was a momentary stir inside the door, as if somebody were +listening at the threshold. He hoped, at least, that the small +iron-barred aperture would be unclosed, through which Roman +housekeepers are wont to take careful cognizance of applicants for +admission, from a traditionary dread, perhaps, of letting in a robber +or assassin. But it remained shut; neither was the sound repeated; +and Kenyon concluded that his excited nerves had played a trick upon +his senses, as they are apt to do when we most wish for the clear +evidence of the latter. + +There was nothing to be done, save to go heavily away, and await +whatever good or ill to-morrow's daylight might disclose. + +Betimes in the morning, therefore, Kenyon went back to the Via +Portoghese, before the slant rays of the sun had descended halfway +down the gray front of Hilda's tower. As he drew near its base, he +saw the doves perched in full session, on the sunny height of the +battlements, and a pair of them--who were probably their mistress's +especial pets, and the confidants of her bosom secrets, if Hilda had +any--came shooting down, and made a feint of alighting on his shoulder. +But, though they evidently recognized him, their shyness would not +yet allow so decided a demonstration. Kenyon's eyes followed them as +they flew upward, hoping that they might have come as joyful +messengers of the girl's safety, and that he should discern her +slender form, half hidden by the parapet, trimming the extinguished +lamp at the Virgin's shrine, just as other maidens set about the +little duties of a household. Or, perhaps, he might see her gentle +and sweet face smiling down upon him, midway towards heaven, as if she +had flown thither for a day or two, just to visit her kindred, but had +been drawn earthward again by the spell of unacknowledged love. + +But his eyes were blessed by no such fair vision or reality; nor, in +truth, were the eager, unquiet flutterings of the doves indicative of +any joyful intelligence, which they longed to share with Hilda's +friend, but of anxious inquiries that they knew not how to utter. +They could not tell, any more than he, whither their lost companion +had withdrawn herself, but were in the same void despondency with him, +feeling their sunny and airy lives darkened and grown imperfect, now +that her sweet society was taken out of it. + +In the brisk morning air, Kenyon found it much easier to pursue his +researches than at the preceding midnight, when, if any slumberers +heard the clamor that he made, they had responded only with sullen and +drowsy maledictions, and turned to sleep again. It must be a very +dear and intimate reality for which people will be content to give up +a dream. When the sun was fairly up, however, it was quite another +thing. The heterogeneous population, inhabiting the lower floor of +the old tower, and the other extensive regions of the palace, were now +willing to tell all they knew, and imagine a great deal more. The +amiability of these Italians, assisted by their sharp and nimble wits, +caused them to overflow with plausible suggestions, and to be very +bounteous in their avowals of interest for the lost Hilda. In a less +demonstrative people, such expressions would have implied an eagerness +to search land and sea, and never rest till she were found. In the +mouths that uttered them they meant good wishes, and were, so far, +better than indifference. There was little doubt that many of them +felt a genuine kindness for the shy, brown-haired, delicate young +foreign maiden, who had flown from some distant land to alight upon +their tower, where she consorted only with the doves. But their +energy expended itself in exclamation, and they were content to leave +all more active measures to Kenyon, and to the Virgin, whose affair it +was to see that the faithful votary of her lamp received no harm. + +In a great Parisian domicile, multifarious as its inhabitants might be, +the concierge under the archway would be cognizant of all their +incomings and issuings forth. But except in rare cases, the general +entrance and main staircase of a Roman house are left as free as the +street, of which they form a sort of by-lane. The sculptor, therefore, +could hope to find information about Hilda's movements only from +casual observers. + +On probing the knowledge of these people to the bottom, there was +various testimony as to the period when the girl had last been seen. +Some said that it was four days since there had been a trace of her; +but an English lady, in the second piano of the palace, was rather of +opinion that she had met her, the morning before, with a drawing-book +in her hand. Having no acquaintance with the young person, she had +taken little notice and might have been mistaken. A count, on the +piano next above, was very certain that he had lifted his hat to Hilda, +under the archway, two afternoons ago. An old woman, who had +formerly tended the shrine, threw some light upon the matter, by +testifying that the lamp required to be replenished once, at least, in +three days, though its reservoir of oil was exceedingly capacious. + +On the whole, though there was other evidence enough to create some +perplexity, Kenyon could not satisfy himself that she had been visible +since the afternoon of the third preceding day, when a fruit seller +remembered her coming out of the arched passage, with a sealed packet +in her hand. As nearly as he could ascertain, this was within an hour +after Hilda had taken leave of the sculptor at his own studio, with +the understanding that they were to meet at the Vatican the next day. +Two nights, therefore, had intervened, during which the lost maiden +was unaccounted for. + +The door of Hilda's apartments was still locked, as on the preceding +night; but Kenyon sought out the wife of the person who sublet them, +and prevailed on her to give him admittance by means of the duplicate +key which the good woman had in her possession. On entering, the +maidenly neatness and simple grace, recognizable in all the +arrangements, made him visibly sensible that this was the daily haunt +of a pure soul, in whom religion and the love of beauty were at one. + +Thence, the sturdy Roman matron led the sculptor across a narrow +passage, and threw open the door of a small chamber, on the threshold +of which he reverently paused. Within, there was a bed, covered with +white drapery, enclosed with snowy curtains like a tent, and of barely +width enough for a slender figure to repose upon it. The sight of +this cool, airy, and secluded bower caused the lover's heart to stir +as if enough of Hilda's gentle dreams were lingering there to make him +happy for a single instant. But then came the closer consciousness of +her loss, bringing along with it a sharp sting of anguish. + +"Behold, Signore," said the matron; "here is the little staircase by +which the signorina used to ascend and trim the Blessed Virgin's lamp. +She was worthy to be a Catholic, such pains the good child bestowed +to keep it burning; and doubtless the Blessed Mary will intercede for +her, in consideration of her pious offices, heretic though she was. +What will become of the old palazzo, now that the lamp is extinguished, +the saints above us only know! Will you mount, Signore, to the +battlements, and see if she have left any trace of herself there?" + +The sculptor stepped across the chamber and ascended the little +staircase, which gave him access to the breezy summit of the tower. +It affected him inexpressibly to see a bouquet of beautiful flowers +beneath the shrine, and to recognize in them an offering of his own to +Hilda, who had put them in a vase of water, and dedicated them to the +Virgin, in a spirit partly fanciful, perhaps, but still partaking of +the religious sentiment which so profoundly influenced her character. +One rosebud, indeed, she had selected for herself from the rich mass +of flowers; for Kenyon well remembered recognizing it in her bosom +when he last saw her at his studio. + +"That little part of my great love she took," said he to himself. +"The remainder she would have devoted to Heaven; but has left it +withering in the sun and wind. Ah! Hilda, Hilda, had you given me a +right to watch over you, this evil had not come!" + +"Be not downcast, signorino mio," said the Roman matron, in response +to the deep sigh which struggled out of Kenyon's breast. "The dear +little maiden, as we see, has decked yonder blessed shrine as devoutly +as I myself, or any Other good Catholic woman, could have done. It is +a religious act, and has more than the efficacy of a prayer. The +signorina will as surely come back as the sun will fall through the +window to-morrow no less than to-day. Her own doves have often been +missing for a day or two, but they were sure to come fluttering about +her head again, when she least expected them. So will it be with this +dove-like child." + +"It might be so," thought Kenyon, with yearning anxiety, "if a pure +maiden were as safe as a dove, in this evil world of ours." + +As they returned through the studio, with the furniture and +arrangements of which the sculptor was familiar, he missed a small +ebony writing-desk that he remembered as having always been placed on +a table there. He knew that it was Hilda's custom to deposit her +letters in this desk, as well as other little objects of which she +wished to be specially careful. + +"What has become of it?" he suddenly inquired, laying his hand on the +table. + +"Become of what, pray?" exclaimed the woman, a little disturbed. +"Does the Signore suspect a robbery, then?" + +"The signorina's writing-desk is gone," replied Kenyon; "it always +stood on this table, and I myself saw it there only a few days ago." + +"Ah, well!" said the woman, recovering her composure, which she seemed +partly to have lost. "The signorina has doubtless taken it away with +her. The fact is of good omen; for it proves that she did not go +unexpectedly, and is likely to return when it may best suit her +convenience." + +"This is very singular," observed Kenyon. "Have the rooms been +entered by yourself, or any other person, since the signorina's +disappearance?" + +"Not by me, Signore, so help me Heaven and the saints!" said the +matron. "And I question whether there are more than two keys in Rome +that will suit this strange old lock. Here is one; and as for the +other, the signorina carlies it in her pocket." + +The sculptor had no reason to doubt the word of this respectable dame. +She appeared to be well meaning and kind hearted, as Roman matrons +generally are; except when a fit of passion incites them to shower +horrible curses on an obnoxious individual, or perhaps to stab him +with the steel stiletto that serves them for a hairpin. But Italian +asseverations of any questionable fact, however true they may chance +to be, have no witness of their truth in the faces of those who utter +them. Their words are spoken with strange earnestness, and yet do not +vouch for themselves as coming from any depth, like roots drawn out of +the substance of the soul, with some of the soil clinging to them. +There is always a something inscrutable, instead of frankness, in +their eyes. In short, they lie so much like truth, and speak truth so +much as if they were telling a lie, that their auditor suspects +himself in the wrong, whether he believes or disbelieves them; it +being the one thing certain, that falsehood is seldom an intolerable +burden to the tenderest of Italian consciences. + +"It is very strange what can have become of the desk!" repeated Kenyon, +looking the woman in the face. + +"Very strange, indeed, Signore," she replied meekly, without turning +away her eyes in the least, but checking his insight of them at about +half an inch below the surface. "I think the signorina must have +taken it with her." + +It seemed idle to linger here any longer. Kenyon therefore departed, +after making an arrangement with the woman, by the terms of which she +was to allow the apartments to remain in their present state, on his +assuming the responsibility for the rent. + +He spent the day in making such further search and investigation as he +found practicable; and, though at first trammelled by an unwillingness +to draw public attention to Hilda's affairs, the urgency of the +circumstances soon compelled him to be thoroughly in earnest. In the +course of a week, he tried all conceivable modes of fathoming the +mystery, not merely by his personal efforts and those of his brother +artists and friends, but through the police, who readily undertook the +task, and expressed strong confidence of success. But the Roman +police has very little efficiency, except in the interest of the +despotism of which it is a tool. With their cocked hats, shoulder +belts, and swords, they wear a sufficiently imposing aspect, and +doubtless keep their eyes open wide enough to track a political +offender, but are too often blind to private outrage, be it murder or +any lesser crime. Kenyon counted little upon their assistance, and +profited by it not at all. + +Remembering the mystic words which Miriam had addressed to him, he was +anxious to meet her, but knew not whither she had gone, nor how to +obtain an interview either with herself or Donatello. The days wore +away, and still there were no tidings of the lost one; no lamp +rekindled before the Virgin's shrine; no light shining into the +lover's heart; no star of Hope--he was ready to say, as he turned his +eyes almost reproachfully upward--in heaven itself! + + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + + +THE FLIGHT OF HILDA'S DOVES + + +Along with the lamp on Hilda's tower, the sculptor now felt that a +light had gone out, or, at least, was ominously obscured, to which he +owed whatever cheerfulness had heretofore illuminated his cold, +artistic life. The idea of this girl had been like a taper of virgin +wax, burning with a pure and steady flame, and chasing away the evil +spirits out of the magic circle of its beams. It had darted its rays +afar, and modified the whole sphere in which Kenyon had his being. +Beholding it no more, he at once found himself in darkness and astray. + +This was the time, perhaps, when Kenyon first became sensible what a +dreary city is Rome, and what a terrible weight is there imposed on +human life, when any gloom within the heart corresponds to the spell +of ruin that has been thrown over the site of ancient empire. He +wandered, as it were, and stumbled over the fallen columns, and among +the tombs, and groped his way into the sepulchral darkness of the +catacombs, and found no path emerging from them. The happy may well +enough continue to be such, beneath the brilliant sky of Rome. But, +if you go thither in melancholy mood, if you go with a ruin in your +heart, or with a vacant site there, where once stood the airy fabric +of happiness, now vanished,--all the ponderous gloom of the Roman Past +will pile itself upon that spot, and crush you down as with the +heaped-up marble and granite, the earth-mounds, and multitudinous +bricks of its material decay. + +It might be supposed that a melancholy man would here make +acquaintance with a grim philosophy. He should learn to bear +patiently his individual griefs, that endure only for one little +lifetime, when here are the tokens of such infinite misfortune on an +imperial scale, and when so many far landmarks of time, all around him, +are bringing the remoteness of a thousand years ago into the sphere +of yesterday. But it is in vain that you seek this shrub of bitter +sweetness among the plants that root themselves on the roughness of +massive walls, or trail downward from the capitals of pillars, or +spring out of the green turf in the palace of the Caesars. It does +not grow in Rome; not even among the five hundred various weeds which +deck the grassy arches of the Coliseum. You look through a vista of +century beyond century,--through much shadow, and a little sunshine, +--through barbarism and civilization, alternating with one another +like actors that have prearranged their parts: through a broad pathway +of progressive generations bordered by palaces and temples, and +bestridden by old, triumphal arches, until, in the distance, you +behold the obelisks, with their unintelligible inscriptions, hinting +at a past infinitely more remote than history can define. Your own +life is as nothing, when compared with that immeasurable distance; but +still you demand, none the less earnestly, a gleam of sunshine, +instead of a speck of shadow, on the step or two that will bring you +to your quiet rest. + +How exceedingly absurd! All men, from the date of the earliest +obelisk,--and of the whole world, moreover, since that far epoch, and +before,--have made a similar demand, and seldom had their wish. If +they had it, what are they the better now? But, even while you taunt +yourself with this sad lesson, your heart cries out obstreperously for +its small share of earthly happiness, and will not be appeased by the +myriads of dead hopes that lie crushed into the soil of Rome. How +wonderful that this our narrow foothold of the Present should hold its +own so constantly, and, while every moment changing, should still be +like a rock betwixt the encountering tides of the long Past and the +infinite To-come! + +Man of marble though he was, the sculptor grieved for the Irrevocable. +Looking back upon Hilda's way of life, he marvelled at his own blind +stupidity, which had kept him from remonstrating as a friend, if with +no stronger right against the risks that she continually encountered. +Being so innocent, she had no means of estimating those risks, nor +even a possibility of suspecting their existence. But he--who had +spent years in Rome, with a man's far wider scope of observation and +experience--knew things that made him shudder. It seemed to Kenyon, +looking through the darkly colored medium of his fears, that all modes +of crime were crowded into the close intricacy of Roman streets, and +that there was no redeeming element, such as exists in other dissolute +and wicked cities. + +For here was a priesthood, pampered, sensual, with red and bloated +cheeks, and carnal eyes. With apparently a grosser development of +animal life than most men, they were placed in an unnatural relation +with woman, and thereby lost the healthy, human conscience that +pertains to other human beings, who own the sweet household ties +connecting them with wife and daughter. And here was an indolent +nobility, with no high aims or opportunities, but cultivating a +vicious way of life, as if it were an art, and the only one which they +cared to learn. Here was a population, high and low, that had no +genuine belief in virtue; and if they recognized any act as criminal, +they might throw off all care, remorse, and memory of it, by kneeling +a little while at the confessional, and rising unburdened, active, +elastic, and incited by fresh appetite for the next ensuing sin. Here +was a soldiery who felt Rome to be their conquered city, and doubtless +considered themselves the legal inheritors of the foul license which +Gaul, Goth, and Vandal have here exercised in days gone by. + +And what localities for new crime existed in those guilty sites, where +the crime of departed ages used to be at home, and had its long, +hereditary haunt! What street in Rome, what ancient ruin, what one +place where man had standing-room, what fallen stone was there, +unstained with one or another kind of guilt! In some of the +vicissitudes of the city's pride or its calamity, the dark tide of +human evil had swelled over it, far higher than the Tiber ever rose +against the acclivities of the seven hills. To Kenyon's morbid view, +there appeared to be a contagious element, rising fog-like from the +ancient depravity of Rome, and brooding over the dead and half-rotten +city, as nowhere else on earth. It prolonged the tendency to crime, +and developed an instantaneous growth of it, whenever an opportunity +was found; And where could it be found so readily as here! In those +vast palaces, there were a hundred remote nooks where Innocence might +shriek in vain. Beneath meaner houses there were unsuspected dungeons +that had once been princely chambers, and open to the daylight; but, +on account of some wickedness there perpetrated, each passing age had +thrown its handful of dust upon the spot, and buried it from sight. +Only ruffians knew of its existence, and kept it for murder, and worse +crime. + +Such was the city through which Hilda, for three years past, had been +wandering without a protector or a guide. She had trodden lightly +over the crumble of old crimes; she had taken her way amid the grime +and corruption which Paganism had left there, and a perverted +Christianity had made more noisome; walking saint-like through it all, +with white, innocent feet; until, in some dark pitfall that lay right +across her path, she had vanished out of sight. It was terrible to +imagine what hideous outrage might have thrust her into that abyss! + +Then the lover tried to comfort himself with the idea that Hilda's +sanctity was a sufficient safeguard. Ah, yes; she was so pure! The +angels, that were of the same sisterhood, would never let Hilda come +to harm. A miracle would be wrought on her behalf, as naturally as a +father would stretch out his hand to save a best-beloved child. +Providence would keep a little area and atmosphere about her as safe +and wholesome as heaven itself, although the flood of perilous +iniquity might hem her round, and its black waves hang curling above +her head! But these reflections were of slight avail. No doubt they +were the religious truth. Yet the ways of Providence are utterly +inscrutable; and many a murder has been done, and many an innocent +virgin has lifted her white arms, beseeching its aid in her extremity, +and all in vain; so that, though Providence is infinitely good and +wise, and perhaps for that very reason, it may be half an eternity +before the great circle of its scheme shall bring us the superabundant +recompense for all these sorrows! But what the lover asked was such +prompt consolation as might consist with the brief span of mortal life; +the assurance of Hilda's present safety, and her restoration within +that very hour. + +An imaginative man, he suffered the penalty of his endowment in the +hundred-fold variety of gloomily tinted scenes that it presented to +him, in which Hilda was always a central figure. The sculptor forgot +his marble. Rome ceased to be anything, for him, but a labyrinth of +dismal streets, in one or another of which the lost girl had +disappeared. He was haunted with the idea that some circumstance, +most important to be known, and perhaps easily discoverable, had +hitherto been overlooked, and that, if he could lay hold of this one +clew, it would guide him directly in the track of Hilda's footsteps. +With this purpose in view, he went, every morning, to the Via +Portoghese, and made it the starting-point of fresh investigations. +After nightfall, too, he invariably returned thither, with a faint +hope fluttering at his heart that the lamp might again be shining on +the summit of the tower, and would dispel this ugly mystery out of the +circle consecrated by its rays. There being no point of which he +could take firm hold, his mind was filled with unsubstantial hopes and +fears. Once Kenyon had seemed to cut his life in marble; now he +vaguely clutched at it, and found it vapor. + +In his unstrung and despondent mood, one trifling circumstance +affected him with an idle pang. The doves had at first been faithful +to their lost mistress. They failed not to sit in a row upon her +window-sill, or to alight on the shrine, or the church-angels, and on +the roofs and portals of the neighboring houses, in evident +expectation of her reappearance. After the second week, however, they +began to take flight, and dropping off by pairs, betook themselves to +other dove-cotes. Only a single dove remained, and brooded drearily +beneath the shrine. The flock that had departed were like the many +hopes that had vanished from Kenyon's heart; the one that still +lingered, and looked so wretched,--was it a Hope, or already a +Despair? + +In the street, one day, the sculptor met a priest of mild and +venerable aspect; and as his mind dwelt continually upon Hilda, and +was especially active in bringing up all incidents that had ever been +connected with her, it immediately struck him that this was the very +father with whom he had seen her at the confessional. Such trust did +Hilda inspire in him, that Kenyon had never asked what was the subject +of the communication between herself and this old priest. He had no +reason for imagining that it could have any relation with her +disappearance, so long subsequently; but, being thus brought face to +face with a personage, mysteriously associated, as he now remembered, +with her whom he had lost, an impulse ran before his thoughts and led +the sculptor to address him. + +It might be that the reverend kindliness of the old man's expression +took Kenyon's heart by surprise; at all events, he spoke as if there +were a recognized acquaintanceship, and an object of mutual interest +between them. + +"She has gone from me, father," said he. + +"Of whom do you speak, my son?" inquired the priest. + +"Of that sweet girl," answered Kenyon, "who knelt to you at the +confessional. Surely you remember her, among all the mortals to whose +confessions you have listened! For she alone could have had no sins +to reveal." + +"Yes; I remember," said the priest, with a gleam of recollection in +his eyes. "She was made to bear a miraculous testimony to the +efficacy of the divine ordinances of the Church, by seizing forcibly +upon one of them, and finding immediate relief from it, heretic though +she was. It is my purpose to publish a brief narrative of this +miracle, for the edification of mankind, in Latin, Italian, and +English, from the printing press of the Propaganda. Poor child! +Setting apart her heresy, she was spotless, as you say. And is she +dead?" + +"Heaven forbid, father!" exclaimed Kenyon, shrinking back. "But she +has gone from me, I know not whither. It may be--yes, the idea seizes +upon my mind--that what she revealed to you will suggest some clew to +the mystery of her disappearance.'" + +"None, my son, none," answered the priest, shaking his head; +"nevertheless, I bid you be of good cheer. That young maiden is not +doomed to die a heretic. Who knows what the Blessed Virgin may at +this moment be doing for her soul! Perhaps, when you next behold her, +she will be clad in the shining white robe of the true faith." + +This latter suggestion did not convey all the comfort which the old +priest possibly intended by it; but he imparted it to the sculptor, +along with his blessing, as the two best things that he could bestow, +and said nothing further, except to bid him farewell. + +When they had parted, however, the idea of Hilda's conversion to +Catholicism recurred to her lover's mind, bringing with it certain +reflections, that gave a new turn to his surmises about the mystery +into which she had vanished. Not that he seriously +apprehended--although the superabundance of her religious sentiment +might mislead her for a moment--that the New England girl would +permanently succumb to the scarlet superstitions which surrounded her +in Italy. But the incident of the confessional if known, as probably +it was, to the eager propagandists who prowl about for souls, as cats +to catch a mouse--would surely inspire the most confident expectations +of bringing her over to the faith. With so pious an end in view, +would Jesuitical morality be shocked at the thought of kidnapping the +mortal body, for the sake of the immortal spirit that might otherwise +be lost forever? Would not the kind old priest, himself, deem this to +be infinitely the kindest service that he could perform for the stray +lamb, who had so strangely sought his aid? + +If these suppositions were well founded, Hilda was most likely a +prisoner in one of the religious establishments that are so numerous +in Rome. The idea, according to the aspect in which it was viewed, +brought now a degree of comfort, and now an additional perplexity. On +the one hand, Hilda was safe from any but spiritual assaults; on the +other, where was the possibility of breaking through all those barred +portals, and searching a thousand convent cells, to set her free? + +Kenyon, however, as it happened, was prevented from endeavoring to +follow out this surmise, which only the state of hopeless uncertainty, +that almost bewildered his reason, could have led him for a moment to +entertain. A communication reached him by an unknown hand, in +consequence of which, and within an hour after receiving it, he took +his way through one of the gates of Rome. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + + +A WALK ON THE CAMPAGNA + + +It was a bright forenoon of February; a month in which the brief +severity of a Roman winter is already past, and when violets and +daisies begin to show themselves in spots favored by the sun. The +sculptor came out of the city by the gate of San Sebastiano, and +walked briskly along the Appian Way. + +For the space of a mile or two beyond the gate, this ancient and +famous road is as desolate and disagreeable as most of the other Roman +avenues. It extends over small, uncomfortable paving-stones, between +brick and plastered walls, which are very solidly constructed, and so +high as almost to exclude a view of the surrounding country. The +houses are of most uninviting aspect, neither picturesque, nor +homelike and social; they have seldom or never a door opening on the +wayside, but are accessible only from the rear, and frown inhospitably +upon the traveller through iron-grated windows. Here and there +appears a dreary inn or a wine-shop, designated by the withered bush +beside the entrance, within which you discern a stone-built and +sepulchral interior, where guests refresh themselves with sour bread +and goats'-milk cheese, washed down with wine of dolorous acerbity. + +At frequent intervals along the roadside up-rises the ruin of an +ancient tomb. As they stand now, these structures are immensely high +and broken mounds of conglomerated brick, stone, pebbles, and earth, +all molten by time into a mass as solid and indestructible as if each +tomb were composed of a single boulder of granite. When first erected, +they were cased externally, no doubt, with slabs of polished marble, +artfully wrought bas-reliefs, and all such suitable adornments, and +were rendered majestically beautiful by grand architectural designs. +This antique splendor has long since been stolen from the dead, to +decorate the palaces and churches of the living. Nothing remains to +the dishonored sepulchres, except their massiveness. + +Even the pyramids form hardly a stranger spectacle, or are more alien +from human sympathies, than the tombs of the Appian Way, with their +gigantic height, breadth, and solidity, defying time and the elements, +and far too mighty to be demolished by an ordinary earthquake. Here +you may see a modern dwelling, and a garden with its vines and +olive-trees, perched on the lofty dilapidation of a tomb, which forms +a precipice of fifty feet in depth on each of the four sides. There +is a home on that funereal mound, where generations of children have +been born, and successive lives been spent, undisturbed by the ghost +of the stern Roman whose ashes were so preposterously burdened. Other +sepulchres wear a crown of grass, shrubbery, and forest-trees, which +throw out a broad sweep of branches, having had time, twice over, to +be a thousand years of age. On one of them stands a tower, which, +though immemorially more modern than the tomb, was itself built by +immemorial hands, and is now rifted quite from top to bottom by a vast +fissure of decay; the tomb-hillock, its foundation, being still as +firm as ever, and likely to endure until the last trump shall rend it +wide asunder, and summon forth its unknown dead. + +Yes; its unknown dead! For, except in one or two doubtful instances, +these mountainous sepulchral edifices have not availed to keep so much +as the bare name of an individual or a family from oblivion. +Ambitious of everlasting remembrance, as they were, the slumberers +might just as well have gone quietly to rest, each in his pigeon-hole +of a columbarium, or under his little green hillock in a graveyard, +without a headstone to mark the spot. It is rather satisfactory than +otherwise, to think that all these idle pains have turned out so +utterly abortive. + +About two miles, or more, from the city gate, and right upon the +roadside, Kenyon passed an immense round pile, sepulchral in its +original purposes, like those already mentioned. It was built of +great blocks of hewn stone, on a vast, square foundation of rough, +agglomerated material, such as composes the mass of all the other +ruinous tombs. But whatever might be the cause, it was in a far +better state of preservation than they. On its broad summit rose the +battlements of a mediaeval fortress, out of the midst of which (so +long since had time begun to crumble the supplemental structure, and +cover it with soil, by means of wayside dust) grew trees, bushes, and +thick festoons of ivy. This tomb of a woman had become the citadel +and donjon-keep of a castle; and all the care that Cecilia Metella's +husband could bestow, to secure endless peace for her beloved relics, +had only sufficed to make that handful of precious ashes the nucleus +of battles, long ages after her death. + +A little beyond this point, the sculptor turned aside from the Appian +Way, and directed his course across the Campagna, guided by tokens +that were obvious only to himself. On one side of him, but at a +distance, the Claudian aqueduct was striding over fields and +watercourses. Before him, many miles away, with a blue atmosphere +between, rose the Alban hills, brilliantly silvered with snow and +sunshine. + +He was not without a companion. A buffalo-calf, that seemed shy and +sociable by the selfsame impulse, had begun to make acquaintance with +him, from the moment when he left the road. This frolicsome creature +gambolled along, now before, now behind; standing a moment to gaze at +him, with wild, curious eyes, he leaped aside and shook his shaggy +head, as Kenyon advanced too nigh; then, after loitering in the rear, +he came galloping up, like a charge of cavalry, but halted, all of a +sudden, when the sculptor turned to look, and bolted across the +Campagna at the slightest signal of nearer approach. The young, +sportive thing, Kenyon half fancied, was serving him as a guide, like +the heifer that led Cadmus to the site of his destined city; for, in +spite of a hundred vagaries, his general course was in the right +direction, and along by several objects which the sculptor had noted +as landmarks of his way. + +In this natural intercourse with a rude and healthy form of animal +life, there was something that wonderfully revived Kenyon's spirits. +The warm rays of the sun, too, were wholesome for him in body and soul; +and so was a breeze that bestirred itself occasionally, as if for the +sole purpose of breathing upon his cheek and dying softly away, when +he would fain have felt a little more decided kiss. This shy but +loving breeze reminded him strangely of what Hilda's deportment had +sometimes been towards himself. + +The weather had very much to do, no doubt, with these genial and +delightful sensations, that made the sculptor so happy with mere life, +in spite of a head and heart full of doleful thoughts, anxieties, and +fears, which ought in all reason to have depressed him. It was like +no weather that exists anywhere, save in Paradise and in Italy; +certainly not in America, where it is always too strenuous on the side +either of heat or cold. Young as the season was, and wintry, as it +would have been under a more rigid sky, it resembled summer rather +than what we New Englanders recognize in our idea of spring. But +there was an indescribable something, sweet, fresh, and remotely +affectionate, which the matronly summer loses, and which thrilled, and, +as it were, tickled Kenyon's heart with a feeling partly of the +senses, yet far more a spiritual delight. In a word, it was as if +Hilda's delicate breath were on his cheek. + +After walking at a brisk pace for about half an hour, he reached a +spot where an excavation appeared to have been begun, at some not very +distant period. There was a hollow space in the earth, looking +exceedingly like a deserted cellar, being enclosed within old +subterranean walls, constructed of thin Roman bricks, and made +accessible by a narrow flight of stone steps. A suburban villa had +probably stood over this site, in the imperial days of Rome, and these +might have been the ruins of a bathroom, or some other apartment that +was required to be wholly or partly under ground. A spade can +scarcely be put into that soil, so rich in lost and forgotten things, +without hitting upon some discovery which would attract all eyes, in +any other land. If you dig but a little way, you gather bits of +precious marble, coins, rings, and engraved gems; if you go deeper, +you break into columbaria, or into sculptured and richly frescoed +apartments that look like festive halls, but were only sepulchres. + +The sculptor descended into the cellar-like cavity, and sat down on a +block of stone. His eagerness had brought him thither sooner than the +appointed hour. The sunshine fell slantwise into the hollow, and +happened to be resting on what Kenyon at first took to be a shapeless +fragment of stone, possibly marble, which was partly concealed by the +crumbling down of earth. + +But his practised eye was soon aware of something artistic in this +rude object. To relieve the anxious tedium of his situation, he +cleared away some of the soil, which seemed to have fallen very +recently, and discovered a headless figure of marble. It was earth +stained, as well it might be, and had a slightly corroded surface, but +at once impressed the sculptor as a Greek production, and wonderfully +delicate and beautiful. The head was gone; both arms were broken off +at the elbow. Protruding from the loose earth, however, Kenyon beheld +the fingers of a marble hand; it was still appended to its arm, and a +little further search enabled him to find the other. Placing these +limbs in what the nice adjustment of the fractures proved to be their +true position, the poor, fragmentary woman forthwith showed that she +retained her modest instincts to the last. She had perished with them, +and snatched them back at the moment of revival. For these +long-buried hands immediately disposed themselves in the manner that +nature prompts, as the antique artist knew, and as all the world has +seen, in the Venus de' Medici. + +"What a discovery is here!" thought Kenyon to himself. "I seek for +Hilda, and find a marble woman! Is the omen good or ill?" + +In a corner of the excavation lay a small round block of stone, much +incrusted with earth that had dried and hardened upon it. So, at +least, you would have described this object, until the sculptor lifted +it, turned it hither and thither in his hands, brushed off the +clinging soil, and finally placed it on the slender neck of the newly +discovered statue. The effect was magical. It immediately lighted up +and vivified the whole figure, endowing it with personality, soul, and +intelligence. The beautiful Idea at once asserted its immortality, +and converted that heap of forlorn fragments into a whole, as perfect +to the mind, if not to the eye, as when the new marble gleamed with +snowy lustre; nor was the impression marred by the earth that still +hung upon the exquisitely graceful limbs, and even filled the lovely +crevice of the lips. Kenyon cleared it away from between them, and +almost deemed himself rewarded with a living smile. + +It was either the prototype or a better repetition of the Venus of the +Tribune. But those who have been dissatisfied with the small head, +the narrow, soulless face, the button-hole eyelids, of that famous +statue, and its mouth such as nature never moulded, should see the +genial breadth of this far nobler and sweeter countenance. It is one +of the few works of antique sculpture in which we recognize womanhood, +and that, moreover, without prejudice to its divinity. + +Here, then, was a treasure for the sculptor to have found! How +happened it to be lying there, beside its grave of twenty centuries? +Why were not the tidings of its discovery already noised abroad? The +world was richer than yesterday, by something far more precious than +gold. Forgotten beauty had come back, as beautiful as ever; a goddess +had risen from her long slumber, and was a goddess still. Another +cabinet in the Vatican was destined to shine as lustrously as that of +the Apollo Belvedere; or, if the aged pope should resign his claim, an +emperor would woo this tender marble, and win her as proudly as an +imperial bride! + +Such were the thoughts with which Kenyon exaggerated to himself the +importance of the newly discovered statue, and strove to feel at least +a portion of the interest which this event would have inspired in him +a little while before. But, in reality, he found it difficult to fix +his mind upon the subject. He could hardly, we fear, be reckoned a +consummate artist, because there was something dearer to him than his +art; and, by the greater strength of a human affection, the divine +statue seemed to fall asunder again, and become only a heap of +worthless fragments. + +While the sculptor sat listlessly gazing at it, there was a sound of +small hoofs, clumsily galloping on the Campagna; and soon his frisky +acquaintance, the buffalo-calf, came and peeped over the edge of the +excavation. Almost at the same moment he heard voices, which +approached nearer and nearer; a man's voice, and a feminine one, +talking the musical tongue of Italy. Besides the hairy visage of his +four footed friend, Kenyon now saw the figures of a peasant and a +contadina, making gestures of salutation to him, on the opposite verge +of the hollow space. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + + +THE PEASANT AND CONTADINA + + +They descended into the excavation: a young peasant, in the short blue +jacket, the small-clothes buttoned at the knee, and buckled shoes, +that compose one of the ugliest dresses ever worn by man, except the +wearer's form have a grace which any garb, or the nudity of an antique +statue, would equally set off; and, hand in hand with him, a village +girl, in one of those brilliant costumes largely kindled up with +scarlet, and decorated with gold embroidery, in which the contadinas +array themselves on feast-days. But Kenyon was not deceived; he had +recognized the voices of his friends, indeed, even before their +disguised figures came between him and the sunlight. Donatello was +the peasant; the contadina, with the airy smile, half mirthful, though +it shone out of melancholy eyes,--was Miriam. + +They both greeted the sculptor with a familiar kindness which reminded +him of the days when Hilda and they and he had lived so happily +together, before the mysterious adventure of the catacomb. What a +succession of sinister events had followed one spectral figure out of +that gloomy labyrinth. + +"It is carnival time, you know," said Miriam, as if in explanation of +Donatello's and her own costume. "Do you remember how merrily we +spent the Carnival, last year?" + +"It seems many years ago," replied Kenyon. We are all so changed!" + +When individuals approach one another with deep purposes on both sides, +they seldom come at once to the matter which they have most at heart. +They dread the electric shock of a too sudden contact with it. A +natural impulse leads them to steal gradually onward, hiding +themselves, as it were, behind a closer, and still a closer topic, +until they stand face to face with the true point of interest. Miriam +was conscious of this impulse, and partially obeyed it. + +"So your instincts as a sculptor have brought you into the presence of +our newly discovered statue," she observed. "Is it not beautiful? A +far truer image of immortal womanhood than the poor little damsel at +Florence, world famous though she be." + +"Most beautiful," said Kenyon, casting an indifferent glance at the +Venus. "The time has been when the sight of this statue would have +been enough to make the day memorable." + +"And will it not do so now?" Miriam asked. + +"I fancied so, indeed, when we discovered it two days ago. It is +Donatello's prize. We were sitting here together, planning an +interview with you, when his keen eyes detected the fallen goddess, +almost entirely buried under that heap of earth, which the clumsy +excavators showered down upon her, I suppose. We congratulated +ourselves, chiefly for your sake. The eyes of us three are the only +ones to which she has yet revealed herself. Does it not frighten you +a little, like the apparition of a lovely woman that livid of old, and +has long lain in the grave?" + +"Ah, Miriam! I cannot respond to you," said the sculptor, with +irrepressible impatience. "Imagination and the love of art have both +died out of me." + +"Miriam," interposed Donatello with gentle gravity, "why should we +keep our friend in suspense? We know what anxiety he feels. Let us +give him what intelligence we can." + +"You are so direct and immediate, my beloved friend!" answered Miriam +with an unquiet smile. "There are several reasons why I should like +to play round this matter a little while, and cover it with fanciful +thoughts, as we strew a grave with flowers." + +"A grave!" exclaimed the sculptor. + +"No grave in which your heart need be buried," she replied; "you have +no such calamity to dread. But I linger and hesitate, because every +word I speak brings me nearer to a crisis from which I shrink. Ah, +Donatello! let us live a little longer the life of these last few days! +It is so bright, so airy, so childlike, so without either past or +future! Here, on the wild Campagna, you seem to have found, both for +yourself and me, the life that belonged to you in early youth; the +sweet irresponsible life which you inherited from your mythic ancestry, +the Fauns of Monte Beni. Our stern and black reality will come upon +us speedily enough. But, first, a brief time more of this strange +happiness." + +"I dare not linger upon it," answered Donatello, with an expression +that reminded the sculptor of the gloomiest days of his remorse at +Monte Beni. "I dare to be so happy as you have seen me, only because +I have felt the time to be so brief." + +"One day, then!" pleaded Miriam. "One more day in the wild freedom of +this sweet-scented air." + +"Well, one more day," said Donatello, smiling; and his smile touched +Kenyon with a pathos beyond words, there being gayety and sadness both +melted into it; "but here is Hilda's friend, and our own. Comfort him, +at least, and set his heart at rest, since you have it partly in your +power." + +"Ah, surely he might endure his pangs a little longer!" cried Miriam, +turning to Kenyon with a tricksy, fitful kind of mirth, that served to +hide some solemn necessity, too sad and serious to be looked at in its +naked aspect. "You love us both, I think, and will be content to +suffer for our sakes, one other day. Do I ask too much?" + +"Tell me of Hilda," replied the sculptor; "tell me only that she is +safe, and keep back what else you will." + +"Hilda is safe," said Miriam. "There is a Providence purposely for +Hilda, as I remember to have told you long ago. But a great +trouble--an evil deed, let us acknowledge it has spread out its dark +branches so widely, that the shadow falls on innocence as well as +guilt. There was one slight link that connected your sweet Hilda with +a crime which it was her unhappy fortune to witness, but of which I +need not say she was as guiltless as the angels that looked out of +heaven, and saw it too. No matter, now, what the consequence has been. +You shall have your lost Hilda back, and--who knows?--perhaps +tenderer than she was." + +"But when will she return?" persisted the sculptor; "tell me the when, +and where, and how!" + +"A little patience. Do not press me so," said Miriam; and again +Kenyon was struck by the sprite-like, fitful characteristic of her +manner, and a sort of hysteric gayety, which seemed to be a +will-o'-the-wisp from a sorrow stagnant at her heart. "You have more +time to spare than I. First, listen to something that I have to tell. +We will talk of Hilda by and by." + +Then Miriam spoke of her own life, and told facts that threw a gleam +of light over many things which had perplexed the sculptor in all his +previous knowledge of her. She described herself as springing from +English parentage, on the mother's side, but with a vein, likewise, of +Jewish blood; yet connected, through her father, with one of those few +princely families of Southern Italy, which still retain great wealth +and influence. And she revealed a name at which her auditor started +and grew pale; for it was one that, only a few years before, had been +familiar to the world in connection with a mysterious and terrible +event. The reader, if he think it worth while to recall some of the +strange incidents which have been talked of, and forgotten, within no +long time past, will remember Miriam's name. + +"You shudder at me, I perceive," said Miriam, suddenly interrupting +her narrative. + +"No; you were innocent," replied the sculptor. "I shudder at the +fatality that seems to haunt your footsteps, and throws a shadow of +crime about your path, you being guiltless." + +"There was such a fatality," said Miriam; "yes; the shadow fell upon +me, innocent, but I went astray in it, and wandered--as Hilda could +tell you--into crime." + +She went on to say that, while yet a child, she had lost her English +mother. From a very early period of her life, there had been a +contract of betrothal between herself and a certain marchese, the +representative of another branch of her paternal house,--a family +arrangement between two persons of disproportioned ages, and in which +feeling went for nothing. Most Italian girls of noble rank would have +yielded themselves to such a marriage as an affair of course. But +there was something in Miriam's blood, in her mixed race, in her +recollections of her mother,--some characteristic, finally, in her own +nature,--which had given her freedom of thought, and force of will, +and made this prearranged connection odious to her. Moreover, the +character of her destined husband would have been a sufficient and +insuperable objection; for it betrayed traits so evil, so treacherous, +so vile, and yet so strangely subtle, as could only be accounted for +by the insanity which often develops itself in old, close-kept races +of men, when long unmixed with newer blood. Reaching the age when the +marriage contract should have been fulfilled, Miriam had utterly +repudiated it. + +Some time afterwards had occurred that terrible event to which Miriam +had alluded when she revealed her name; an event, the frightful and +mysterious circumstances of which will recur to many minds, but of +which few or none can have found for themselves a satisfactory +explanation. It only concerns the present narrative, inasmuch as the +suspicion of being at least an accomplice in the crime fell darkly and +directly upon Miriam herself. + +"But you know that I am innocent!" she cried, interrupting herself +again, and looking Kenyon in the face. + +"I know it by my deepest consciousness," he answered; "and I know it +by Hilda's trust and entire affection, which you never could have won +had you been capable of guilt." + +"That is sure ground, indeed, for pronouncing me innocent," said +Miriam, with the tears gushing into her eyes. "Yet I have since +become a horror to your saint-like Hilda, by a crime which she herself +saw me help to perpetrate!" + +She proceeded with her story. The great influence of her family +connections had shielded her from some of the consequences of her +imputed guilt. But, in her despair, she had fled from home, and had +surrounded her flight with such circumstances as rendered it the most +probable conclusion that she had committed suicide. Miriam, however, +was not of the feeble nature which takes advantage of that obvious and +poor resource in earthly difficulties. She flung herself upon the +world, and speedily created a new sphere, in which Hilda's gentle +purity, the sculptor's sensibility, clear thought, and genius, and +Donatello's genial simplicity had given her almost her first +experience of happiness. Then came that ill-omened adventure of the +catacomb, The spectral figure which she encountered there was the evil +fate that had haunted her through life. + +Looking back upon what had happened, Miriam observed, she now +considered him a madman. Insanity must have been mixed up with his +original composition, and developed by those very acts of depravity +which it suggested, and still more intensified, by the remorse that +ultimately followed them. Nothing was stranger in his dark career +than the penitence which often seemed to go hand in hand with crime. +Since his death she had ascertained that it finally led him to a +convent, where his severe and self-inflicted penance had even acquired +him the reputation of unusual sanctity, and had been the cause of his +enjoying greater freedom than is commonly allowed to monks. + +"Need I tell you more?" asked Miriam, after proceeding thus far. "It +is still a dim and dreary mystery, a gloomy twilight into which I +guide you; but possibly you may catch a glimpse of much that I myself +can explain only by conjecture. At all events, you can comprehend +what my situation must have been, after that fatal interview in the +catacomb. My persecutor had gone thither for penance, but followed me +forth with fresh impulses to crime. He had me in his power. Mad as +he was, and wicked as he was, with one word he could have blasted me +in the belief of all the world. In your belief too, and Hilda's! +Even Donatello would have shrunk from me with horror!" + +"Never," said Donatello, "my instinct would have known you innocent." + +"Hilda and Donatello and myself,--we three would have acquitted you," +said Kenyon, "let the world say what it might. Ah, Miriam, you should +have told us this sad story sooner!" + +"I thought often of revealing it to you," answered Miriam; "on one +occasion, especially,--it was after you had shown me your Cleopatra; +it seemed to leap out of my heart, and got as far as my very lips. +But finding you cold to accept my confidence, I thrust it back again. +Had I obeyed my first impulse, all would have turned out differently." + +"And Hilda!" resumed the sculptor. "What can have been her connection +with these dark incidents?" + +"She will, doubtless, tell you with her own lips," replied Miriam. +"Through sources of information which I possess in Rome, I can assure +you of her safety. In two days more--by the help of the special +Providence that, as I love to tell you, watches over Hilda--she shall +rejoin you." + +"Still two days morel" murmured the sculptor. + +"Ah, you are cruel now! More cruel than you know!" exclaimed Miriam, +with another gleam of that fantastic, fitful gayety, which had more +than once marked her manner during this interview. "Spare your poor +friends!" + +"I know not what you mean, Miriam," said Kenyon. + +"No matter," she replied; "you will understand hereafter. But could +you think it? Here is Donatello haunted with strange remorse, and an +unmitigable resolve to obtain what he deems justice upon himself. He +fancies, with a kind of direct simplicity, which I have vainly tried +to combat, that, when a wrong has been done, the doer is bound to +submit himself to whatsoever tribunal takes cognizance of such things, +and abide its judgment. I have assured him that there is no such +thing as earthly justice, and especially none here, under the head of +Christendom." + +"We will not argue the point again," said Donatello, smiling. "I have +no head for argument, but only a sense, an impulse, an instinct, I +believe, which sometimes leads me right. But why do we talk now of +what may make us sorrowful? There are still two days more. Let us be +happy!" + +It appeared to Kenyon that since he last saw Donatello, some of the +sweet and delightful characteristics of the antique Faun had returned +to him. There were slight, careless graces, pleasant and simple +peculiarities, that had been obliterated by the heavy grief through +which he was passing at Monte Beni, and out of which he had hardly +emerged when the sculptor parted with Miriam and him beneath the +bronze pontiffs outstretched hand. These happy blossoms had now +reappeared. A playfulness came out of his heart, and glimmered like +firelight in his actions, alternating, or even closely intermingled, +with profound sympathy and serious thought. + +"Is he not beautiful?" said Miriam, watching the sculptor's eye as it +dwelt admiringly on Donatello. "So changed, yet still, in a deeper +sense, so much the same! He has travelled in a circle, as all things +heavenly and earthly do, and now comes back to his original self, with +an inestimable treasure of improvement won from an experience of pain. +How wonderful is this! I tremble at my own thoughts, yet must needs +probe them to their depths. Was the crime--in which he and I were +wedded--was it a blessing, in that strange disguise? Was it a means +of education, bringing a simple and imperfect nature to a point of +feeling and intelligence which it could have reached under no other +discipline?" + +"You stir up deep and perilous matter, Miriam," replied Kenyon. "I +dare not follow you into the unfathomable abysses whither you are +tending." + +"Yet there is a pleasure in them! I delight to brood on the verge of +this great mystery," returned she. "The story of the fall of man! Is +it not repeated in our romance of Monte Beni? And may we follow the +analogy yet further? Was that very sin,--into which Adam precipitated +himself and all his race, was it the destined means by which, over a +long pathway of toil and sorrow, we are to attain a higher, brighter, +and profounder happiness, than our lost birthright gave? Will not +this idea account for the permitted existence of sin, as no other +theory can?" + +"It is too dangerous, Miriam! I cannot follow you!" repeated the +sculptor. "Mortal man has no right to tread on the ground where you +now set your feet." + +"Ask Hilda what she thinks of it," said Miriam, with a thoughtful +smile. "At least, she might conclude that sin--which man chose +instead of good--has been so beneficently handled by omniscience and +omnipotence, that, whereas our dark enemy sought to destroy us by it, +it has really become an instrument most effective in the education of +intellect and soul." + +Miriam paused a little longer among these meditations, which the +sculptor rightly felt to be so perilous; she then pressed his hand, in +token of farewell. + +"The day after to-morrow," said she, "an hour before sunset, go to the +Corso, and stand in front of the fifth house on your left, beyond the +Antonine column. You will learn tidings of a friend." + +Kenyon would have besought her for more definite intelligence, but she +shook her head, put her finger on her lips, and turned away with an +illusive smile. The fancy impressed him that she too, like Donatello, +had reached a wayside paradise, in their mysterious life journey, +where they both threw down the burden of the before and after, and, +except for this interview with himself, were happy in the flitting +moment. To-day Donatello was the sylvan Faun; to-day Miriam was his +fit companion, a Nymph of grove or fountain; to-morrow--a remorseful +man and woman, linked by a marriage bond of crime--they would set +forth towards an inevitable goal. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + + +A SCENE IN THE CORSO + + +On the appointed afternoon, Kenyon failed not to make his appearance +in the Corso, and at an hour much earlier than Miriam had named. + +It was carnival time. The merriment of this famous festival was in +full progress; and the stately avenue of the Corso was peopled with +hundreds of fantastic shapes, some of which probably represented the +mirth of ancient times, surviving through all manner of calamity, ever +since the days of the Roman Empire. For a few afternoons of early +spring, this mouldy gayety strays into the sunshine; all the remainder +of the year, it seems to be shut up in the catacombs or some other +sepulchral storehouse of the past. + +Besides these hereditary forms, at which a hundred generations have +laughed, there were others of modern date, the humorous effluence of +the day that was now passing. It is a day, however, and an age, that +appears to be remarkably barren, when compared with the prolific +originality of former times, in productions of a scenic and ceremonial +character, whether grave or gay. To own the truth, the Carnival is +alive, this present year, only because it has existed through +centuries gone by. It is traditionary, not actual. If decrepit and +melancholy Rome smiles, and laughs broadly, indeed, at carnival time, +it is not in the old simplicity of real mirth, but with a +half-conscious effort, like our self-deceptive pretence of jollity at +a threadbare joke. Whatever it may once have been, it is now but a +narrow stream of merriment, noisy of set purpose, running along the +middle of the Corso, through the solemn heart of the decayed city, +without extending its shallow influence on either side. Nor, even +within its own limits, does it affect the mass of spectators, but only +a comparatively few, in street and balcony, who carry on the warfare +of nosegays and counterfeit sugar plums. The populace look on with +staid composure; the nobility and priesthood take little or no part in +the matter; and, but for the hordes of Anglo-Saxons who annually take +up the flagging mirth, the Carnival might long ago have been swept +away, with the snowdrifts of confetti that whiten all the pavement. + +No doubt, however, the worn-out festival is still new to the youthful +and light hearted, who make the worn-out world itself as fresh as Adam +found it on his first forenoon in Paradise. It may be only age and +care that chill the life out of its grotesque and airy riot, with the +impertinence of their cold criticism. + +Kenyon, though young, had care enough within his breast to render the +Carnival the emptiest of mockeries. Contrasting the stern anxiety of +his present mood with the frolic spirit of the preceding year, he +fancied that so much trouble had, at all events, brought wisdom in its +train. But there is a wisdom that looks grave, and sneers at +merriment; and again a deeper wisdom, that stoops to be gay as often +as occasion serves, and oftenest avails itself of shallow and trifling +grounds of mirth; because, if we wait for more substantial ones, we +seldom can be gay at all. Therefore, had it been possible, Kenyon +would have done well to mask himself in some wild, hairy visage, and +plunge into the throng of other maskers, as at the Carnival before. +Then Donatello had danced along the Corso in all the equipment of a +Faun, doing the part with wonderful felicity of execution, and +revealing furry ears, which looked absolutely real; and Miriam had +been alternately a lady of the antique regime, in powder and brocade, +and the prettiest peasant girl of the Campagna, in the gayest of +costumes; while Hilda, sitting demurely in a balcony, had hit the +sculptor with a single rosebud,--so sweet and fresh a bud that he knew +at once whose hand had flung it. + +These were all gone; all those dear friends whose sympathetic mirth +had made him gay. Kenyon felt as if an interval of many years had +passed since the last Carnival. He had grown old, the nimble jollity +was tame, and the maskers dull and heavy; the Corso was but a narrow +and shabby street of decaying palaces; and even the long, blue +streamer of Italian sky, above it, not half so brightly blue as +formerly. + +Yet, if he could have beheld the scene with his clear, natural +eyesight, he might still have found both merriment and splendor in it. +Everywhere, and all day long, there had been tokens of the festival, +in the baskets brimming over with bouquets, for sale at the street +corners, or borne about on people's heads; while bushels upon bushels +of variously colored confetti were displayed, looking just like +veritable sugar plums; so that a stranger would have imagined that the +whole commerce and business of stern old Rome lay in flowers and +sweets. And now, in the sunny afternoon, there could hardly be a +spectacle more picturesque than the vista of that noble street, +stretching into the interminable distance between two rows of lofty +edifices, from every window of which, and many a balcony, flaunted gay +and gorgeous carpets, bright silks, scarlet cloths with rich golden +fringes, and Gobelin tapestry, still lustrous with varied hues, though +the product of antique looms. Each separate palace had put on a gala +dress, and looked festive for the occasion, whatever sad or guilty +secret it might hide within. Every window, moreover, was alive with +the faces of women, rosy girls, and children, all kindled into brisk +and mirthful expression, by the incidents in the street below. In the +balconies that projected along the palace fronts stood groups of +ladies, some beautiful, all richly dressed, scattering forth their +laughter, shrill, yet sweet, and the musical babble of their voices, +to thicken into an airy tumult over the heads of common mortals. + +All these innumerable eyes looked down into the street, the whole +capacity of which was thronged with festal figures, in such fantastic +variety that it had taken centuries to contrive them; and through the +midst of the mad, merry stream of human life rolled slowly onward a +never-ending procession of all the vehicles in Rome, from the ducal +carriage, with the powdered coachman high in front, and the three +golden lackeys clinging in the rear, down to the rustic cart drawn by +its single donkey. Among this various crowd, at windows and in +balconies, in cart, cab, barouche, or gorgeous equipage, or bustling +to and fro afoot, there was a sympathy of nonsense; a true and genial +brotherhood and sisterhood, based on the honest purpose--and a wise +one, too--of being foolish, all together. The sport of mankind, like +its deepest earnest, is a battle; so these festive people fought one +another with an ammunition of sugar plums and flowers. + +Not that they were veritable sugar plums, however, but something that +resembled them only as the apples of Sodom look like better fruit. +They were concocted mostly of lime, with a grain of oat, or some other +worthless kernel, in the midst. Besides the hailstorm of confetti, +the combatants threw handfuls of flour or lime into the air, where it +hung like smoke over a battlefield, or, descending, whitened a black +coat or priestly robe, and made the curly locks of youth irreverently +hoary. + +At the same time with this acrid contest of quicklime, which caused +much effusion of tears from suffering eyes, a gentler warfare of +flowers was carried on, principally between knights and ladies. +Originally, no doubt, when this pretty custom was first instituted, it +may have had a sincere and modest import. Each youth and damsel, +gathering bouquets of field flowers, or the sweetest and fairest that +grew in their own gardens, all fresh and virgin blossoms, flung them +with true aim at the one, or few, whom they regarded with a sentiment +of shy partiality at least, if not with love. Often, the lover in the +Corso may thus have received from his bright mistress, in her father's +princely balcony, the first sweet intimation that his passionate +glances had not struck against a heart of marble. What more +appropriate mode of suggesting her tender secret could a maiden find +than by the soft hit of a rosebud against a young man's cheek? + +This was the pastime and the earnest of a more innocent and homelier +age. Nowadays the nosegays are gathered and tied up by sordid hands, +chiefly of the most ordinary flowers, and are sold along the Corso, at +mean price, yet more than such Venal things are worth. Buying a +basketful, you find them miserably wilted, as if they had flown hither +and thither through two or three carnival days already; muddy, too, +having been fished up from the pavement, where a hundred feet have +trampled on them. You may see throngs of men and boys who thrust +themselves beneath the horses' hoofs to gather up bouquets that were +aimed amiss from balcony and carriage; these they sell again, and yet +once more, and ten times over, defiled as they all are with the wicked +filth of Rome. + +Such are the flowery favors--the fragrant bunches of sentiment--that +fly between cavalier and dame, and back again, from one end of the +Corso to the other. Perhaps they may symbolize, more aptly than was +intended, the poor, battered, wilted hearts of those who fling them; +hearts which--crumpled and crushed by former possessors, and stained +with various mishap--have been passed from hand to hand along the +muddy street-way of life, instead of being treasured in one faithful +bosom. + +These venal and polluted flowers, therefore, and those deceptive +bonbons, are types of the small reality that still subsists in the +observance of the Carnival. Yet the government seemed to imagine that +there might be excitement enough,--wild mirth, perchance, following +its antics beyond law, and frisking from frolic into earnest,--to +render it expedient to guard the Corso with an imposing show of +military power. Besides the ordinary force of gendarmes, a strong +patrol of papal dragoons, in steel helmets and white cloaks, were +stationed at all the street corners. Detachments of French infantry +stood by their stacked muskets in the Piazza del Popolo, at one +extremity of the course, and before the palace of the Austrian embassy, +at the other, and by the column of Antoninus, midway between. Had +that chained tiger-cat, the Roman populace, shown only so much as the +tip of his claws, the sabres would have been flashing and the bullets +whistling, in right earnest, among the combatants who now pelted one +another with mock sugar plums and wilted flowers. + +But, to do the Roman people justice, they were restrained by a better +safeguard than the sabre or the bayonet; it was their own gentle +courtesy, which imparted a sort of sacredness to the hereditary +festival. At first sight of a spectacle so fantastic and extravagant, +a cool observer might have imagined the whole town gone mad; but, in +the end, he would see that all this apparently unbounded license is +kept strictly within a limit of its own; he would admire a people who +can so freely let loose their mirthful propensities, while muzzling +those fiercer ones that tend to mischief. Everybody seemed lawless; +nobody was rude. If any reveller overstepped the mark, it was sure to +be no Roman, but an Englishman or an American; and even the rougher +play of this Gothic race was still softened by the insensible +influence of a moral atmosphere more delicate, in some respects, than +we breathe at home. Not that, after all, we like the fine Italian +spirit better than our own; popular rudeness is sometimes the symptom +of rude moral health. But, where a Carnival is in question, it would +probably pass off more decorously, as well as more airily and +delightfully, in Rome, than in any Anglo-Saxon city. + +When Kenyon emerged from a side lane into the Corso, the mirth was at +its height. Out of the seclusion of his own feelings, he looked forth +at the tapestried and damask-curtained palaces, the slow-moving double +line of carriages, and the motley maskers that swarmed on foot, as if +he were gazing through the iron lattice of a prison window. So remote +from the scene were his sympathies, that it affected him like a thin +dream, through the dim, extravagant material of which he could discern +more substantial objects, while too much under its control to start +forth broad awake. Just at that moment, too, there came another +spectacle, making its way right through the masquerading throng. + +It was, first and foremost, a full band of martial music, +reverberating, in that narrow and confined though stately avenue, +between the walls of the lofty palaces, and roaring upward to the sky +with melody so powerful that it almost grew to discord. Next came a +body of cavalry and mounted gendarmes, with great display of military +pomp. They were escorting a long train of equipages, each and all of +which shone as gorgeously as Cinderella's coach, with paint and +gilding. Like that, too, they were provided with coachmen of mighty +breadth, and enormously tall footmen, in immense powdered wigs, and +all the splendor of gold-laced, three cornered hats, and embroidered +silk coats and breeches. By the old-fashioned magnificence of this +procession, it might worthily have included his Holiness in person, +with a suite of attendant Cardinals, if those sacred dignitaries would +kindly have lent their aid to heighten the frolic of the Carnival. +But, for all its show of a martial escort, and its antique splendor of +costume, it was but a train of the municipal authorities of Rome, +--illusive shadows, every one, and among them a phantom, styled the +Roman Senator,--proceeding to the Capitol. + +The riotous interchange of nosegays and confetti was partially +suspended, while the procession passed. One well-directed shot, +however,--it was a double handful of powdered lime, flung by an +impious New Englander,--hit the coachman of the Roman Senator full in +the face, and hurt his dignity amazingly. It appeared to be his +opinion that the Republic was again crumbling into ruin, and that the +dust of it now filled his nostrils; though, in fact, it would hardly +be distinguished from the official powder with which he was already +plentifully bestrewn. + +While the sculptor, with his dreamy eyes, was taking idle note of this +trifling circumstance, two figures passed before him, hand in hand. +The countenance of each was covered with an impenetrable black mask; +but one seemed a peasant of the Campagna; the other, a contadina in +her holiday costume. + + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + + +A FROLIC OF THE CARNIVAL + + +The crowd and confusion, just at that moment, hindered the sculptor +from pursuing these figures,--the peasant and contadina,--who, indeed, +were but two of a numerous tribe that thronged the Corso, in similar +costume. As soon as he could squeeze a passage, Kenyon tried to +follow in their footsteps, but quickly lost sight of them, and was +thrown off the track by stopping to examine various groups of +masqueraders, in which he fancied the objects of his search to be +included. He found many a sallow peasant or herdsman of the Campagna, +in such a dress as Donatello wore; many a contadina, too, brown, broad, +and sturdy, in her finery of scarlet, and decked out with gold or +coral beads, a pair of heavy earrings, a curiously wrought cameo or +mosaic brooch, and a silver comb or long stiletto among her glossy +hair. But those shapes of grace and beauty which he sought had +vanished. + +As soon as the procession of the Senator had passed, the merry-makers +resumed their antics with fresh spirit, and the artillery of bouquets +and sugar plums, suspended for a moment, began anew. The sculptor +himself, being probably the most anxious and unquiet spectator there, +was especially a mark for missiles from all quarters, and for the +practical jokes which the license of the Carnival permits. In fact, +his sad and contracted brow so ill accorded with the scene, that the +revellers might be pardoned for thus using him as the butt of their +idle mirth, since he evidently could not otherwise contribute to it. + +Fantastic figures, with bulbous heads, the circumference of a bushel, +grinned enormously in his face. Harlequins struck him with their +wooden swords, and appeared to expect his immediate transformation +into some jollier shape. A little, long-tailed, horned fiend sidled +up to him and suddenly blew at him through a tube, enveloping our poor +friend in a whole harvest of winged seeds. A biped, with an ass's +snout, brayed close to his ear, ending his discordant uproar with a +peal of human laughter. Five strapping damsels--so, at least, their +petticoats bespoke them, in spite of an awful freedom in the flourish +of their legs--joined hands, and danced around him, inviting him by +their gestures to perform a hornpipe in the midst. Released from +these gay persecutors, a clown in motley rapped him on the back with a +blown bladder, in which a handful of dried peas rattled horribly. + +Unquestionably, a care-stricken mortal has no business abroad, when +the rest of mankind are at high carnival; they must either pelt him +and absolutely martyr him with jests, and finally bury him beneath the +aggregate heap; or else the potency of his darker mood, because the +tissue of human life takes a sad dye more readily than a gay one, will +quell their holiday humors, like the aspect of a death's-head at a +banquet. Only that we know Kenyon's errand, we could hardly forgive +him for venturing into the Corso with that troubled face. + +Even yet, his merry martyrdom was not half over. There came along a +gigantic female figure, seven feet high, at least, and taking up a +third of the street's breadth with the preposterously swelling sphere +of her crinoline skirts. Singling out the sculptor, she began to make +a ponderous assault upon his heart, throwing amorous glances at him +out of her great goggle eyes, offering him a vast bouquet of +sunflowers and nettles, and soliciting his pity by all sorts of +pathetic and passionate dumb-show. Her suit meeting no favor, the +rejected Titaness made a gesture of despair and rage; then suddenly +drawing a huge pistol, she took aim right at the obdurate sculptor's +breast, and pulled the trigger. The shot took effect, for the +abominable plaything went off by a spring, like a boy's popgun, +covering Kenyon with a cloud of lime dust, under shelter of which the +revengeful damsel strode away. + +Hereupon, a whole host of absurd figures surrounded him, pretending to +sympathize in his mishap. Clowns and party-colored harlequins; +orang-outangs; bear-headed, bull-headed, and dog-headed individuals; +faces that would have been human, but for their enormous noses; one +terrific creature, with a visage right in the centre of his breast; +and all other imaginable kinds of monstrosity and exaggeration. These +apparitions appeared to be investigating the case, after the fashion +of a coroner's jury, poking their pasteboard countenances close to the +sculptor's with an unchangeable grin, that gave still more ludicrous +effect to the comic alarm and sorrow of their gestures. Just then, a +figure came by, in a gray wig and rusty gown, with an inkhorn at his +buttonhole and a pen behind his ear; he announced himself as a notary, +and offered to make the last will and testament of the assassinated +man. This solemn duty, however, was interrupted by a surgeon, who +brandished a lancet, three feet long, and proposed to him to let him +take blood. + +The affair was so like a feverish dream, that Kenyon resigned himself +to let it take its course. Fortunately the humors of the Carnival +pass from one absurdity to another, without lingering long enough on +any, to wear out even the slightest of them. The passiveness of his +demeanor afforded too little scope for such broad merriment as the +masqueraders sought. In a few moments they vanished from him, as +dreams and spectres do, leaving him at liberty to pursue his quest, +with no impediment except the crowd that blocked up the footway. + +He had not gone far when the peasant and the contadina met him. They +were still hand in hand, and appeared to be straying through the +grotesque and animated scene, taking as little part in it as himself. +It might be because he recognized them, and knew their solemn secret, +that the sculptor fancied a melancholy emotion to be expressed by the +very movement and attitudes of these two figures; and even the grasp +of their hands, uniting them so closely, seemed to set them in a sad +remoteness from the world at which they gazed. + +"I rejoice to meet you," said Kenyon. But they looked at him through +the eye-holes of their black masks, without answering a word. + +"Pray give me a little light on the matter which I have so much at +heart," said he; "if you know anything of Hilda, for Heaven's sake, +speak!" + +Still they were silent; and the sculptor began to imagine that he must +have mistaken the identity of these figures, there being such a +multitude in similar costume. Yet there was no other Donatello, no +other Miriam. He felt, too, that spiritual certainty which impresses +us with the presence of our friends, apart from any testimony of the +senses. + +"You are unkind," resumed he,--"knowing the anxiety which oppresses me, +--not to relieve it, if in your power." + +The reproach evidently had its effect; for the contadina now spoke, +and it was Miriam's voice. + +"We gave you all the light we could," said she. "You are yourself +unkind, though you little think how much so, to come between us at +this hour. There may be a sacred hour, even in carnival time." + +In another state of mind, Kenyon could have been amused by the +impulsiveness of this response, and a sort of vivacity that he had +often noted in Miriam's conversation. But he was conscious of a +profound sadness in her tone, overpowering its momentary irritation, +and assuring him that a pale, tear-stained face was hidden behind her +mask. + +"Forgive me!" said he. + +Donatello here extended his hand,--not that which was clasping +Miriam's,--and she, too, put her free one into the sculptor's left; so +that they were a linked circle of three, with many reminiscences and +forebodings flashing through their hearts. Kenyon knew intuitively +that these once familiar friends were parting with him now. + +"Farewell!" they all three said, in the same breath. + +No sooner was the word spoken, than they loosed their hands; and the +uproar of the Carnival swept like a tempestuous sea over the spot +which they had included within their small circle of isolated feeling. + +By this interview, the sculptor had learned nothing in reference to +Hilda; but he understood that he was to adhere to the instructions +already received, and await a solution of the mystery in some mode +that he could not yet anticipate. Passing his hands over his eyes, +and looking about him,--for the event just described had made the +scene even more dreamlike than before,--he now found himself +approaching that broad piazza bordering on the Corso, which has for +its central object the sculptured column of Antoninus. It was not far +from this vicinity that Miriam had bid him wait. Struggling onward as +fast as the tide of merrymakers, setting strong against him, would +permit, he was now beyond the Palazzo Colonna, and began to count the +houses. The fifth was a palace, with a long front upon the Corso, and +of stately height, but somewhat grim with age. + +Over its arched and pillared entrance there was a balcony, richly hung +with tapestry and damask, and tenanted, for the time, by a gentleman +of venerable aspect and a group of ladies. The white hair and +whiskers of the former, and the winter roses in his cheeks, had an +English look; the ladies, too, showed a fair-haired Saxon bloom, and +seemed to taste the mirth of the Carnival with the freshness of +spectators to whom the scene was new. All the party, the old +gentleman with grave earnestness, as if he were defending a rampart, +and his young companions with exuberance of frolic, showered confetti +inexhaustibly upon the passers-by. + +In the rear of the balcony, a broad-brimmed, ecclesiastical beaver was +visible. An abbate, probably an acquaintance and cicerone of the +English family, was sitting there, and enjoying the scene, though +partially withdrawn from view, as the decorum for his order dictated. + +There seemed no better nor other course for Kenyon than to keep watch +at this appointed spot, waiting for whatever should happen next. +Clasping his arm round a lamp-post, to prevent being carried away by +the turbulent stream of wayfarers, he scrutinized every face, with the +idea that some one of them might meet his eyes with a glance of +intelligence. He looked at each mask,--harlequin, ape, bulbous-headed +monster, or anything that was absurdest,--not knowing but that the +messenger might come, even in such fantastic guise. Or perhaps one of +those quaint figures, in the stately ruff, the cloak, tunic, and +trunk-hose of three centuries ago, might bring him tidings of Hilda, +out of that long-past age. At times his disquietude took a hopeful +aspect; and he fancied that Hilda might come by, her own sweet self, +in some shy disguise which the instinct Of his love would be sure to +penetrate. Or, she might be borne past on a triumphal car, like the +one just now approaching, its slow-moving wheels encircled and spoked +with foliage, and drawn by horses, that were harnessed and wreathed +with flowers. Being, at best, so far beyond the bounds of reasonable +conjecture, he might anticipate the wildest event, or find either his +hopes or fears disappointed in what appeared most probable. + +The old Englishman and his daughters, in the opposite balcony, must +have seen something unutterably absurd in the sculptor's deportment, +poring into this whirlpool of nonsense so earnestly, in quest of what +was to make his life dark or bright. Earnest people, who try to get a +reality out of human existence, are necessarily absurd in the view of +the revellers and masqueraders. At all events, after a good deal of +mirth at the expense of his melancholy visage, the fair occupants of +the balcony favored Kenyon with a salvo of confetti, which came +rattling about him like a hailstorm. Looking up instinctively, he was +surprised to see the abbate in the background lean forward and give a +courteous sign of recognition. + +It was the same old priest with whom he had seen Hilda, at the +confessional; the same with whom he had talked of her disappearance on +meeting him in the street. + +Yet, whatever might be the reason, Kenyon did not now associate this +ecclesiastical personage with the idea of Hilda. His eyes lighted on +the old man, just for an instant, and then returned to the eddying +throng of the Corso, on his minute scrutiny of which depended, for +aught he knew, the sole chance of ever finding any trace of her. +There was, about this moment, a bustle on the other side of the street, +the cause of which Kenyon did not see, nor exert himself to discover. +A small party of soldiers or gendarmes appeared to be concerned in it; +they were perhaps arresting some disorderly character, who, under the +influence of an extra flask of wine, might have reeled across the +mystic limitation of carnival proprieties. + +The sculptor heard some people near him talking of the incident. + +"That contadina, in a black mask, was a fine figure of a woman." + +"She was not amiss," replied a female voice; "but her companion was +far the handsomer figure of the two. Could they be really a peasant +and a contadina, do you imagine?" + +"No, no," said the other. "It is some frolic of the Carnival, carried +a little too far." + +This conversation might have excited Kenyon's interest; only that, +just as the last words were spoken, he was hit by two missiles, both +of a kind that were flying abundantly on that gay battlefield. One, +we are ashamed to say, was a cauliflower, which, flung by a young man +from a passing carriage, came with a prodigious thump against his +shoulder; the other was a single rosebud, so fresh that it seemed that +moment gathered. It flew from the opposite balcony, smote gently on +his lips, and fell into his hand. He looked upward, and beheld the +face of his lost Hilda! + +She was dressed in a white domino, and looked pale and bewildered, and +yet full of tender joy. Moreover, there was a gleam of delicate +mirthfulness in her eyes, which the sculptor had seen there only two +or three times in the course of their acquaintance, but thought it the +most bewitching and fairylike of all Hilda's expressions. That soft, +mirthful smile caused her to melt, as it were, into the wild frolic of +the Carnival, and become not so strange and alien to the scene, as her +unexpected apparition must otherwise have made her. + +Meanwhile, the venerable Englishman and his daughters were staring at +poor Hilda in a way that proved them altogether astonished, as well as +inexpressibly shocked, by her sudden intrusion into their private +balcony. They looked,--as, indeed, English people of respectability +would, if an angel were to alight in their circle, without due +introduction from somebody whom they knew, in the court above,--they +looked as if an unpardonable liberty had been taken, and a suitable +apology must be made; after which, the intruder would be expected to +withdraw. + +The abbate, however, drew the old gentleman aside, and whispered a few +words that served to mollify him; he bestowed on Hilda a sufficiently +benignant, though still a perplexed and questioning regard, and +invited her, in dumb-show, to put herself at her ease. + +But, whoever was in fault, our shy and gentle Hilda had dreamed of no +intrusion. Whence she had come, or where she had been hidden, during +this mysterious interval, we can but imperfectly surmise, and do not +mean, at present, to make it a matter of formal explanation with the +reader. It is better, perhaps, to fancy that she had been snatched +away to a land of picture; that she had been straying with Claude in +the golden light which he used to shed over his landscapes, but which +he could never have beheld with his waking eyes till he awoke in the +better clime. We will imagine that, for the sake of the true +simplicity with which she loved them, Hilda had been permitted, for a +season, to converse with the great, departed masters of the pencil, +and behold the diviner works which they have painted in heavenly +colors. Guido had shown her another portrait of Beatrice Cenci, done +from the celestial life, in which that forlorn mystery of the earthly +countenance was exchanged for a radiant joy. Perugino had allowed her +a glimpse at his easel, on which she discerned what seemed a woman's +face, but so divine, by the very depth and softness of its womanhood, +that a gush of happy tears blinded the maiden's eyes before she had +time to look. Raphael had taken Hilda by the hand, that fine, +forcible hand which Kenyon sculptured,--and drawn aside the curtain of +gold-fringed cloud that hung before his latest masterpiece. On earth, +Raphael painted the Transfiguration. What higher scene may he have +since depicted, not from imagination, but as revealed to his actual +sight! + +Neither will we retrace the steps by which she returned to the actual +world. For the present, be it enough to say that Hilda had been +summoned forth from a secret place, and led we know not through what +mysterious passages, to a point where the tumult of life burst +suddenly upon her ears. She heard the tramp of footsteps, the rattle +of wheels, and the mingled hum of a multitude of voices, with strains +of music and loud laughter breaking through. Emerging into a great, +gloomy hall, a curtain was drawn aside; she found herself gently +propelled into an open balcony, whence she looked out upon the festal +street, with gay tapestries flaunting over all the palace fronts, the +windows thronged with merry faces, and a crowd of maskers rioting upon +the pavement below. + +Immediately she seemed to become a portion of the scene. Her pale, +large-eyed, fragile beauty, her wondering aspect and bewildered grace, +attracted the gaze of many; and there fell around her a shower of +bouquets and bonbons--freshest blossoms and sweetest sugar plums, +sweets to the sweet--such as the revellers of the Carnival reserve as +tributes to especial loveliness. Hilda pressed her hand across her +brow; she let her eyelids fall, and, lifting them again, looked +through the grotesque and gorgeous show, the chaos of mad jollity, in +quest of some object by which she might assure herself that the whole +spectacle was not an illusion. + +Beneath the balcony, she recognized a familiar and fondly remembered +face. The spirit of the hour and the scene exercised its influence +over her quick and sensitive nature; she caught up one of the rosebuds +that had been showered upon her, and aimed it at the sculptor; It hit +the mark; he turned his sad eyes upward, and there was Hilda, in whose +gentle presence his own secret sorrow and the obtrusive uproar of the +Carnival alike died away from his perception. + +That night, the lamp beneath the Virgin's shrine burned as brightly as +if it had never been extinguished; and though the one faithful dove +had gone to her melancholy perch, she greeted Hilda rapturously the +next morning, and summoned her less constant companions, whithersoever +they had flown, to renew their homage. + + + + + +CHAPTER L + + +MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO + + +The gentle reader, we trust, would not thank us for one of those +minute elucidations, which are so tedious, and, after all, so +unsatisfactory, in clearing up the romantic mysteries of a story. He +is too wise to insist upon looking closely at the wrong side of the +tapestry, after the right one has been sufficiently displayed to him, +woven with the best of the artist's skill, and cunningly arranged with +a view to the harmonious exhibition of its colors. If any brilliant, +or beautiful, or even tolerable effect have been produced, this +pattern of kindly readers will accept it at its worth, without tearing +its web apart, with the idle purpose of discovering how the threads +have been knit together; for the sagacity by which he is distinguished +will long ago have taught him that any narrative of human action and +adventure whether we call it history or romance--is certain to be a +fragile handiwork, more easily rent than mended. The actual +experience of even the most ordinary life is full of events that never +explain themselves, either as regards their origin or their tendency. + +It would be easy, from conversations which we have held with the +sculptor, to suggest a clew to the mystery of Hilda's disappearance; +although, as long as she remained in Italy, there was a remarkable +reserve in her communications upon this subject, even to her most +intimate friends. Either a pledge of secrecy had been exacted, or a +prudential motive warned her not to reveal the stratagems of a +religious body, or the secret acts of a despotic government--whichever +might be responsible in the present instance--while still within the +scope of their jurisdiction. Possibly, she might not herself be fully +aware what power had laid its grasp upon her person. What has chiefly +perplexed us, however, among Hilda's adventures, is the mode of her +release, in which some inscrutable tyranny or other seemed to take +part in the frolic of the Carnival. We can only account for it, by +supposing that the fitful and fantastic imagination of a +woman--sportive, because she must otherwise be desperate--had arranged +this incident, and made it the condition of a step which her +conscience, or the conscience of another, required her to take. + +A few days after Hilda's reappearance, she and the sculptor were +straying together through the streets of Rome. Being deep in talk, it +so happened that they found themselves near the majestic, pillared +portico, and huge, black rotundity of the Pantheon. It stands almost +at the central point of the labyrinthine intricacies of the modern +city, and often presents itself before the bewildered stranger, when +he is in search of other objects. Hilda, looking up, proposed that +they should enter. + +"I never pass it without going in," she said, "to pay my homage at the +tomb of Raphael." + +"Nor I," said Kenyon, "without stopping to admire the noblest edifice +which the barbarism of the early ages, and the more barbarous pontiffs +and princes of later ones, have spared to us." + +They went in accordingly, and stood in the free space of that great +circle, around which are ranged the arched recesses and stately altars, +formerly dedicated to heathen gods, but Christianized through twelve +centuries gone by. The world has nothing else like the Pantheon. So +grand it is, that the pasteboard statues over the lofty cornice do not +disturb the effect, any more than the tin crowns and hearts, the dusty +artificial flowers, and all manner of trumpery gew-gaws, hanging at +the saintly shrines. The rust and dinginess that have dimmed the +precious marble on the walls; the pavement, with its great squares and +rounds of porphyry and granite, cracked crosswise and in a hundred +directions, showing how roughly the troublesome ages have trampled +here; the gray dome above, with its opening to the sky, as if heaven +were looking down into the interior of this place of worship, left +unimpeded for prayers to ascend the more freely; all these things make +an impression of solemnity, which St. Peter's itself fails to produce. + +"I think," said the sculptor, "it is to the aperture in the dome--that +great Eye, gazing heavenward that the Pantheon owes the peculiarity of +its effect. It is so heathenish, as it were,--so unlike all the +snugness of our modern civilization! Look, too, at the pavement, +directly beneath the open space! So much rain has fallen there, in +the last two thousand years, that it is green with small, fine moss, +such as grows over tombstones in a damp English churchyard." + +"I like better," replied Hilda, "to look at the bright, blue sky, +roofing the edifice where the builders left it open. It is very +delightful, in a breezy day, to see the masses of white cloud float +over the opening, and then the sunshine fall through it again, +fitfully, as it does now. Would it be any wonder if we were to see +angels hovering there, partly in and partly out, with genial, heavenly +faces, not intercepting the light, but only transmuting it into +beautiful colors? Look at that broad, golden beam--a sloping cataract +of sunlight--which comes down from the aperture and rests upon the +shrine, at the right hand of the entrance!" + +"There is a dusky picture over that altar," observed the sculptor. +"Let us go and see if this strong illumination brings out any merit in +it." + +Approaching the shrine, they found the picture little worth looking at, +but could not forbear smiling, to see that a very plump and +comfortable tabby-cat--whom we ourselves have often observed haunting +the Pantheon--had established herself on the altar, in the genial +sunbeam, and was fast asleep among the holy tapers. Their footsteps +disturbing her, she awoke, raised herself, and sat blinking in the sun, +yet with a certain dignity and self-possession, as if conscious of +representing a saint. + +"I presume," remarked Kenyon, "that this is the first of the feline +race that has ever set herself up as an object of worship, in the +Pantheon or elsewhere, since the days of ancient Egypt. See; there is +a peasant from the neighboring market, actually kneeling to her! She +seems a gracious and benignant saint enough." + +"Do not make me laugh," said Hilda reproachfully," but help me to +drive the creature away. It distresses me to see that poor man, or +any human being, directing his prayers so much amiss." + +"Then, Hilda," answered the sculptor more seriously, "the only Place +in the Pantheon for you and me to kneel is on the pavement beneath the +central aperture. If we pray at a saint's shrine, we shall give +utterance to earthly wishes; but if we pray face to face with the +Deity, we shall feel it impious to petition for aught that is narrow +and selfish. Methinks it is this that makes the Catholics so delight +in the worship of saints; they can bring up all their little worldly +wants and whims, their individualities and human weaknesses, not as +things to be repented of, but to be humored by the canonized humanity +to which they pray. Indeed, it is very tempting!" + +What Hilda might have answered must be left to conjecture; for as she +turned from the shrine, her eyes were attracted to the figure of a +female penitent, kneeling on the pavement just beneath the great +central eye, in the very spot which Kenyon had designated as the only +one whence prayers should ascend. The upturned face was invisible, +behind a veil or mask, which formed a part of the garb. + +"It cannot be!" whispered Hilda, with emotion. "No; it cannot be!" + +"What disturbs you?" asked Kenyon. "Why do you tremble so?" + +"If it were possible," she replied," I should fancy that kneeling +figure to be Miriam!" + +"As you say, it is impossible," rejoined the sculptor; "We know too +well what has befallen both her and Donatello." "Yes; it is +impossible!" repeated Hilda. Her voice was still tremulous, however, +and she seemed unable to withdraw her attention from the kneeling +figure. Suddenly, and as if the idea of Miriam had opened the whole +volume of Hilda's reminiscences, she put this question to the sculptor: +"Was Donatello really a Faun?" + +"If you had ever studied the pedigree of the far-descended heir of +Monte Beni, as I did," answered Kenyon, with an irrepressible smile, +"you would have retained few doubts on that point. Faun or not, he +had a genial nature, which, had the rest of mankind been in accordance +with it, would have made earth a paradise to our poor friend. It +seems the moral of his story, that human beings of Donatello's +character, compounded especially for happiness, have no longer any +business on earth, or elsewhere. Life has grown so sadly serious, +that such men must change their nature, or else perish, like the +antediluvian creatures that required, as the condition of their +existence, a more summerlike atmosphere than ours." + +"I will not accept your moral!" replied the hopeful and happy-natured +Hilda. + +"Then here is another; take your choice!" said the sculptor, +remembering what Miriam had recently suggested, in reference to the +same point. "He perpetrated a great crime; and his remorse, gnawing +into his soul, has awakened it; developing a thousand high +capabilities, moral and intellectual, which we never should have +dreamed of asking for, within the scanty compass of the Donatello whom +we knew." + +"I know not whether this is so," said Hilda. "But what then?" + +"Here comes my perplexity," continued Kenyon. "Sin has educated +Donatello, and elevated him. Is sin, then,--which we deem such a +dreadful blackness in the universe,--is it, like sorrow, merely an +element of human education, through which we struggle to a higher and +purer state than we could otherwise have attained? Did Adam fall, +that we might ultimately rise to a far loftier paradise than his?" "O +hush!" cried Hilda, shrinking from him with an expression of horror +which wounded the poor, speculative sculptor to the soul. "This is +terrible; and I could weep for you, if you indeed believe it. Do not +you perceive what a mockery your creed makes, not only of all +religious sentiments, but of moral law? And how it annuls and +obliterates whatever precepts of Heaven are written deepest within us? +You have shocked me beyond words!" + +"Forgive me, Hilda!" exclaimed the sculptor, startled by her agitation; +"I never did believe it! But the mind wanders wild and wide; and, so +lonely as I live and work, I have neither pole-star above nor light of +cottage windows here below, to bring me home. Were you my guide, my +counsellor, my inmost friend, with that white wisdom which clothes you +as a celestial garment, all would go well. O Hilda, guide me home!" + +"We are both lonely; both far from home!" said Hilda, her eyes filling +with tears. "I am a poor, weak girl, and have no such wisdom as you +fancy in me." + +What further may have passed between these lovers, while standing +before the pillared shrine, and the marble Madonna that marks +Raphael's tomb; whither they had now wandered, we are unable to record. +But when the kneeling figure beneath the open eye of the Pantheon +arose, she looked towards the pair and extended her hands with a +gesture of benediction. Then they knew that it was Miriam. They +suffered her to glide out of the portal, however, without a greeting; +for those extended hands, even while they blessed, seemed to repel, as +if Miriam stood on the other side of a fathomless abyss, and warned +them from its verge. + +So Kenyon won the gentle Hilda's shy affection, and her consent to be +his bride. Another hand must henceforth trim the lamp before the +Virgin's shrine; for Hilda was coming down from her old tower, to be +herself enshrined and worshipped as a household saint, in the light of +her husband's fireside. And, now that life had so much human promise +in it, they resolved to go back to their own land; because the years, +after all, have a kind of emptiness, when we spend too many of them on +a foreign shore. We defer the reality of life, in such cases, until a +future moment, when we shall again breathe our native air; but, by and +by, there are no future moments; or, if we do return, we find that the +native air has lost its invigorating quality, and that life has +shifted its reality to the spot where we have deemed ourselves only +temporary residents. Thus, between two countries, we have none at all, +or only that little space of either in which we finally lay down our +discontented bones. It is wise, therefore, to come back betimes, or +never. + +Before they quitted Rome, a bridal gift was laid on Hilda's table. It +was a bracelet, evidently of great cost, being composed of seven +ancient Etruscan gems, dug out of seven sepulchres, and each one of +them the signet of some princely personage, who had lived an +immemorial time ago. Hilda remembered this precious ornament. It had +been Miriam's; and once, with the exuberance of fancy that +distinguished her, she had amused herself with telling a mythical and +magic legend for each gem, comprising the imaginary adventures and +catastrophe of its former wearer. Thus the Etruscan bracelet became +the connecting bond of a series of seven wondrous tales, all of which, +as they were dug out of seven sepulchres, were characterized by a +sevenfold sepulchral gloom; such as Miriam's imagination, shadowed by +her own misfortunes, was wont to fling over its most sportive flights. + +And now, happy as Hilda was, the bracelet brought the tears into her +eyes, as being, in its entire circle, the symbol of as sad a mystery +as any that Miriam had attached to the separate gems. For, what was +Miriam's life to be? And where was Donatello? But Hilda had a +hopeful soul, and saw sunlight on the mountain-tops. + + + + + +CONCLUSION + +There comes to the author, from many readers of the foregoing pages, a +demand for further elucidations respecting the mysteries of the story. + +He reluctantly avails himself of the opportunity afforded by a new +edition, to explain such incidents and passages as may have been left +too much in the dark; reluctantly, he repeats, because the necessity +makes him sensible that he can have succeeded but imperfectly, at best, +in throwing about this Romance the kind of atmosphere essential to +the effect at which he aimed. + +He designed the story and the characters to bear, of course, a certain +relation to human nature and human life, but still to be so artfully +and airily removed from our mundane sphere, that some laws and +proprieties of their own should be implicitly and insensibly +acknowledged. + +The idea of the modern Faun, for example, loses all the poetry and +beauty which the Author fancied in it, and becomes nothing better than +a grotesque absurdity, if we bring it into the actual light of day. +He had hoped to mystify this anomalous creature between the Real and +the Fantastic, in such a manner that the reader's sympathies might be +excited to a certain pleasurable degree, without impelling him to ask +how Cuvier would have classified poor Donatello, or to insist upon +being told, in so many words, whether he had furry ears or no. As +respects all who ask such questions, the book is, to that extent, a +failure. + +Nevertheless, the Author fortunately has it in his power to throw +light upon several matters in which some of his readers appear to feel +an interest. To confess the truth, he was himself troubled with a +curiosity similar to that which he has just deprecated on the part of +his readers, and once took occasion to cross-examine his friends, +Hilda and the sculptor, and to pry into several dark recesses of the +story, with which they had heretofore imperfectly acquainted him. + +We three had climbed to the top of St. Peter's, and were looking down +upon the Rome we were soon to leave, but which (having already sinned +sufficiently in that way) it is not my purpose further to describe. +It occurred to me, that, being so remote in the upper air, my friends +might safely utter here the secrets which it would be perilous even to +whisper on lower earth. + +"Hilda," I began, "can you tell me the contents of that mysterious +packet which Miriam entrusted to your charge, and which was addressed +to Signore Luca Barboni, at the Palazzo Cenci?" + +"I never had any further knowledge of it," replied Hilda, "nor felt it +right to let myself be curious upon the subject." + +"As to its precise contents," interposed Kenyon, "it is impossible to +speak. But Miriam, isolated as she seemed, had family connections in +Rome, one of whom, there is reason to believe, occupied a position in +the papal government. + +"This Signore Luca Barboni was either the assumed name of the +personage in question, or the medium of communication between that +individual and Miriam. Now, under such a government as that of Rome, +it is obvious that Miriam's privacy and isolated life could only be +maintained through the connivance and support of some influential +person connected with the administration of affairs. Free and +self-controlled as she appeared, her every movement was watched and +investigated far more thoroughly by the priestly rulers than by her +dearest friends. + +"Miriam, if I mistake not, had a purpose to withdraw herself from this +irksome scrutiny, and to seek real obscurity in another land; and the +packet, to be delivered long after her departure, contained a +reference to this design, besides certain family documents, which were +to be imparted to her relative as from one dead and gone." + +"Yes, it is clear as a London fog," I remarked. "On this head no +further elucidation can be desired. But when Hilda went quietly to +deliver the packet, why did she so mysteriously vanish?" + +"You must recollect," replied Kenyon, with a glance of friendly +commiseration at my obtuseness," that Miriam had utterly disappeared, +leaving no trace by which her whereabouts could be known. In the +meantime, the municipal authorities had become aware of the murder of +the Capuchin; and from many preceding circumstances, such as his +persecution of Miriam, they must have seen an obvious connection +between herself and that tragical event. Furthermore, there is reason +to believe that Miriam was suspected of connection with some plot, or +political intrigue, of which there may have been tokens in the packet. +And when Hilda appeared as the bearer of this missive, it was really +quite a matter of course, under a despotic government, that she should +be detained." + +"Ah, quite a matter of course, as you say," answered I. "How +excessively stupid in me not to have seen it sooner! But there are +other riddles. On the night of the extinction of the lamp, you met +Donatello, in a penitent's garb, and afterwards saw and spoke to +Miriam, in a coach, with a gem glowing on her bosom. What was the +business of these two guilty ones in Rome, and who was Miriam's +companion?" + +"Who!" repeated Kenyon, "why, her official relative, to be sure; and +as to their business, Donatello's still gnawing remorse had brought +him hitherward, in spite of Miriam's entreaties, and kept him +lingering in the neighborhood of Rome, with the ultimate purpose of +delivering himself up to justice. Hilda's disappearance, which took +place the day before, was known to them through a secret channel, and +had brought them into the city, where Miriam, as I surmise, began to +make arrangements, even then, for that sad frolic of the Carnival." + +"And where was Hilda all that dreary time between?" inquired I. + +"Where were you, Hilda?" asked Kenyon, smiling. + +Hilda threw her eyes on all sides, and seeing that there was not even +a bird of the air to fly away with the secret, nor any human being +nearer than the loiterers by the obelisk in the piazza below, she told +us about her mysterious abode. + +"I was a prisoner in the Convent of the Sacre Coeur, in the Trinita de +Monte," said she," but in such kindly custody of pious maidens, and +watched over by such a dear old priest, that--had it not been for one +or two disturbing recollections, and also because I am a daughter of +the Puritans I could willingly have dwelt there forever. + +"My entanglement with Miriam's misfortunes, and the good abbate's +mistaken hope of a proselyte, seem to me a sufficient clew to the +whole mystery." + +"The atmosphere is getting delightfully lucid," observed I, "but there +are one or two things that still puzzle me. Could you tell me--and it +shall be kept a profound secret, I assure you what were Miriam's real +name and rank, and precisely the nature of the troubles that led to +all those direful consequences?" + +"Is it possible that you need an answer to those questions?" exclaimed +Kenyon, with an aspect of vast surprise. "Have you not even surmised +Miriam's name? Think awhile, and you will assuredly remember it. If +not, I congratulate you most sincerely; for it indicates that your +feelings have never been harrowed by one of the most dreadful and +mysterious events that have occurred within the present century!" + +"Well," resumed I, after an interval of deep consideration, "I have +but few things more to ask. Where, at this moment, is Donatello?" + +"The Castle of Saint Angelo," said Kenyon sadly, turning his face +towards that sepulchral fortress, "is no longer a prison; but there +are others which have dungeons as deep, and in one of them, I fear, +lies our poor Faun." + +"And why, then, is Miriam at large?" I asked. + +"Call it cruelty if you like, not mercy," answered Kenyon. "But, +after all, her crime lay merely in a glance. She did no murder!" + +"Only one question more," said I, with intense earnestness. "Did +Donatello's ears resemble those of the Faun of Praxiteles?" + +"I know, but may not tell," replied Kenyon, smiling mysteriously. "On +that point, at all events, there shall be not one word of explanation." + +Leamington, March 14, 1860. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Marble Faun, VOL. II by Hawthorne + diff --git a/old/2faun10.zip b/old/2faun10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8b6431 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2faun10.zip |