Onwards! But whither? A life study

Front matter

VOL. I. fl K\U .Stutni BY A. E. N. BEWICKE AUTHOR OF ' LONELV CAKI.OTTa' 'THE LAST OF THE JERNINGH.VM-ES ETC. • What then ? Ts the heroic inspiration we name Virtue but some pa>sion ; some bubble of the blood, bubbling in the direction others profit bjr?' — Tie Everlasting Ko (Carlyle) IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I. LONDON SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE 1S75 \_A It rights reserved] CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. JHAPTER PAGE i. Over a Wood-Fire in Rome . . . i II. Early Days 23 III. Snatching Laurels 50 IV. Making Acquaintance .... 79 V. On the Pincio .101 VI. Gaspard he Mo*-*tbrison . . . 125 VII. Brush and Comb Talk . . . -154 VIII. Blind Circumstance ... VI CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. CHATTER PAGE IX. Prince Ousarof's Mother . . .192 X. Prince Ousarof 209 XI. Outside the Church .... 230 XII. The Palms of Monaco . . . 263 XIII. An Open Window at Cannes . . ONWARDS! BUT WHITHER P

Chapter I. Over

A WOOD-FIRE IN ROME. The celebrated Euler, having demonstrated certain pro perties of arches, adds — ' All experience is in contradiction to this, but this is no reason for doubting its truth.'—Cole ridge's ' Aids to Reflection.' A young girl no way remarkable in feature, yet with a face full of meaning — eyes, mouth, and sorehead all telling of long and earnest thought — well shaped, expressive hands lightly clasped in one another as they rested on the table, and a little grey serge dress only adding another shade of grey to her general colourlessness. This was Cecile o VOL. L B ONWARDS ! BUT WHITHER ? 2 Methuen, as she sat in the reading room of a Roman Hotel one afternoon in the year of the great Council, listening to the conversa tion of three men ; one, her cousin, a la mode de Bretagne, Gaspard de Montbrison, Lieu tenant in the Papal Zouaves ; the other two, travelling companions — the fair haired Hermann Werner since a certain rainstorm on the Wengern Alp, the Russian Prince only since Florence. ' Truth is one and indivisible,' the officer in the Papal Zouaves was saying in harsh grating tones, at once laying down the law and throwing the apple of discord into the little circle. ' Truth is one perhaps, but infinitely divisible — is it not ? ' said the English girl, chiming in here with an assumption of beino an authority almost piquant as coming from her, and mitigated by that last pleading ' is it not ? ' which her eyes intensified.

For it was Cecile Methuens wont always to look full at the person she was addressing, and with a seriousness that not seldom beguiled an involuntary assent. For who, unless obliged, could differ from one so much in earnest, who seemed to consider your convic tions and her convictions the one important matter of the universe for the time being, and somehow — how her eyes did not ex plain — inextricably united ? ' Truth ! what is Truth ? It is a scare crow that people have invented for them selves. It is an imagination. No ! all the world ought to form but one nation, and all men ought to be equal. Then, enjoying Fraternity and Equality, there would be no need to quarrel any more about Truth,' and the German sipped calmly his cup of coffee. ' But it is Truth alone that gives a meaning r. ONWARDS !

BUT WHITHER ? 4 to life. If there were no Truth, of what use would be judgment or reason ? No ! Truth exists somewhere, everywhere perhaps, if one could but perceive it. It is infinite, al though it is one, and a life time is not long enough to pursue the search of it. It is the only occupation worthy of a reasonable being,' and the sad dreamy eyes of the Russian seemed to pierce into the far dark corners of the room, as if there, as every where, now as always, he were pursuing the only occupation worthy of a reasonable being. ' Truth is ours. We have it,' said the Zouave. 'Who can say he has it? Is Truth so little that any human intelligence can con tain it all entire ? No one can ever hope to possess it, yet everyone ought to search after it.' ' Of what use a search that cannot suc ceed ? ' interposed the German. ' That sort of wild goose chase was all very well in the infancy of the world, before man was fully developed or knew his own powers ; but this century is a little too positive for any thing of the kind.

We only care for that which we can see and touch, and which it is possible to enjoy — money, and the goods that money brings.' Hitherto each had been speaking for Cecile's benefit, though not addressing him self to her, nor paying much apparent atten tion to the little remark she had thrown in ; but here the German had forgotten himself — or rather his hearers — being carried away by self-congratulatory admiration of his own convictions. Tne audience being in the nineteenth century, it is true, yet not of it, was unsympathetic — too much so even to ONWARDS ! BUT WHITHER ? 6 reply — but, before the pause had become op pressive, the girl, with womanly tact, intro duced a new subject. 'We went to St. Biagiu to hear the Armenian Patriarch's mass yesterday. It was more like the Russian service than anything I had seen before,' — this with a glance at the Russian — ' but it seemed very superstitious.' * 'But! did you not mean and?' sotto voce, but very audible, from the Zouave. ' Our service is very superstitious,' said the Russian calmly. ' The Armenian might well resemble it.

Why do you care to go to such things ? I rarely attend church myself, and then only to meet acquaintance.' ' Some people are so good they have no sins to confess,' said the Zouave, with an ex pression suggesting that there were others for whom no amount of penance could suffice. It might be humility, but there was a strange likeness to pride in the half-expressed re velation. Cecile gazed thoughtfully into the fire. ' And you think that right ? ' she asked of the Russian. 'Why should I confess ! I have committed no sins,' replied he, speaking pleadingly, yet in low soft tones, as if he were making an as sertion that seemed to himself a matter of course. The Frenchman writhed on his seat, then bowed his head as if in silent prayer — as he would have expressed it, performing an act of humility.

At that moment the door opened, and Lettice Methuen entered the room ; she was taller than her sister, prettier and yet de cidedly more commonplace. The ordinary man, meeting the two sisters for the first time, would have looked longest at Lettice, ONWARDS ! BUT WHITHER ? but no woman would have glanced twice at her while Cecile was by. Yet Lettice was the pretty sister, Cecile the clever one. That was the difference ; one saw it in their faces. ' Cecile, are you not going to hear the French Bishop's sermon ? ' ' It is pouring,' replied Cecile. ' It is always pouring,' said Lettice a little severely. ' Do you not wish to hear it ? Reggie of course will not go, it would bore him, he says. Besides I believe he has gone to the Club. Oh ! are you there, Gaspard ? I did not see you before. It is so dark in Rome one might as well have no eyes.' 'It is darker in England,' said the Frenchman, assuming at once the defensive ; then, more amicably : !

But why go to hear another sermon ? You will have a surfeit of sermons soon, and you will not easily hear again a discourse so eloquent as that of Monseigneur of Geneva. Think of that a little longer.' ' Yes, think of that a little longer. We are so comfortable here,' said the Russian. ' Ah ! that was splendid,' cried Cecile enthusiastically, ' when he spoke of the great separation, that had existed ever since the bull was burnt at Wittemberg, and exclaimed, with that upward motion of the hands, that seems like wringing out Heaven's blessing : ' Oh, my separated brethren, whom we love, even yet, notwithstanding our separation! Yes, we love you almost to apostacy, did we not love our faith even to martyrdom ! ' And that other bit, when he cried out : ' They say we are not free, that the Council has no liberty !

No, we have none, no liberty ! Oh, my dear brothers, missionary Bishops, whom I see listening to my words among the crowd — you, who are about to return to those ONWARDS ! BUT WHITHER ? 10 heathen to whom you have dedicated your lives — are you free to draw back, to give up your sacrifice ? Are we any of us free, any of us for whom Jesus was born and died ? No, we are not free, we scorn the word, we will not be insulted by it. We are not free, cannot be, will not be. We have no free dom but to love — to love — ' Almost uncon sciously, while imitating his upward glance and outstretched hands, she assumed the very expression of the Bishop, who had reminded her of the pictured Saints of Perugino's latter days, and thus, appeal ing to her artistic tastes, had awoken in her a longing for religious fervour, which, however, so far remained a longing, nothing more. ' But it made me angry, when he talked of the Bishops' coming from Spain in her struggles, Belgium and Holland in their OVER A AA*OOD-FIRE IN ROME.

I I learning, England in her renaissance, and so on.' ' Ah, you are soon all coming over,' said the Zouave with complacency, half addressing himself to Lettice, who, finding no one inclined for the sermon, was taking up her position in the circle in his neighbourhood. ' The English clergy are only waiting to hear if they may come with their wives and their Orders, and then you will all come together.' ' That is an absurd idea that has got about at Rome,' said Lettice, speaking as from superior wisdom. ' They never would be allowed to do so, and they don't wish to. Our clergy have no doubts, as you all fancy.' This ' you all ' was evidently addressed to all people not English, however wide their differences, after the fashion so common among our insular nation, and after all not foolishly so ; for a wider gulf often seems onwards! but -whither?

I 2 to separate us from the other nations of Europe than all the gulfs separatingthe other nations put together. We are a peculiar people, we English ! May our fate not be like that of the ' peculiar people ' of the olden time, to become a reproach and a stumbling stone, at which the finger of scorn has been pointed for weary ages ! There was another proud people once. ' What did you think of the Mass on Christmas morning ? ' asked the Zouave, speaking confidently now. ' Did you see the Huly Father well?' ' Yes, I saw the Pope beautifully,' said Lcttice, speaking always from a position of superiority, as seemed habitual to her in addressing her Breton cousin. There was a sort of antagonism between the two, which seetned especially to irritate the man, evidently accustomed to please, despite his ugliness.

For Gaspard de Montbrison was absolutely ugly — a tall, ungainly, bony man, with dark hair and complexion, features marked to caricature, and eyes that made one almost understand why Italians say of a man, ' He has fine eyes,' when they wish to express that he is destitute of beauty. With those eyes no one could pass him by in a crowd ; with those features no one could call him handsome. There was mind in his face, mind of the narrow yet piercing order, and no more looked out over his high cheek bones than the owner chose. He might read the thoughts of others, but no one could read his against his will. The girl, however, was almost more impenetrable ; Lettice's very prettiness seemed to stand in her way. Had her cheeks been less rounded, had her lips been less rosy, one felt as if one could have ONWARDS !

BUT WHITHER ? 14 formed a better guess at the character be neath ; and, knowing her better, have loved her more. And yet after all she was not so very pretty — only the prettiest of the two sisters — although she was rounded out of all expres sion, like the handwriting of an office clerk. ' Everyone saw the Pope,' she went on. ' I got weary of hearing the question asked of each lady in turn, as she slipped out of the tribune, till it came to our turn to be picked up by Reggie, and escorted through the crowd. He had his Highland uniform on, and he says the people were all so busy picking it to pieces, that he was only longing to get out of it, though it got him a better place, than he possibly could have had otherwise — the best to be had, indeed — just behind the Roman Princesses' tribune, and close to that for the Diplomats.

As to our tribune, it was such a bear-garden ! Did you hear the storm of hisses, that greeted the Pope, when ever he came near ? ' ' Hisses ? ' asked the German, looking up eagerly. 'Hisses!' cried the Zouave. 'That is quite impossible. You must have mistaken. The Holy Father is much beloved. It is indeed a pleasure to serve a master so be loved, and so grateful.' ' The French ladies, who had of course succeeded in getting the best places in front,' said Cecile with a smile — hastening to explain away the unpleasant impression her sister had purposely left — ' the French ladies would stand on the benches to see the Pope better whenever he came near, and so the ladies be hind hissed, because they could see nothing. It was all out of love really, but it did not sound well.' She had a very different manner in ONWARDS!

BUT WHITHER? speaking to her cousin from that her sister had assumed. It was almost as if there were some secret understanding between them. There was again a pleading expression in her thoughtful eyes, as she turned towards him. Was it acknowledged between them that he had already acquired, what she had only lately begun to desire, the fervour of devotion, and that he was therefore to be patient and compassionate with her because of her poverty and coldness ? The German watched her jealously as she leant forward, and spoke to her cousin. Indeed he had never taken his eyes off her since his declaration in favour of money and the goods that money brings had fallen flat upon his audience. And yet, handsome though his fair face was, she had never glanced at him, nor seemed to be conscious of the gaze of his blue eyes.

Was she be- QVEIj A WOOD-WKB IN ROME. \J ginning to be influenced by that want of birth on his part, that made him so bitter against the world and its rulers ? She had liked well enough to talk to him, when she had tirst met him, and Hermann Werner was ready enough to think this was the reason of the change, and was become even more and more democratic from the idea. Gifted beyond other men with beauty, health, strength, and intellect he yet could not forgive Nature that he was born not noble, even ignoble, as it ■were, for his parentage was unknown. Adopted at an early age by a rich eccentric, who fancied his blue eyes reminded him of his only son, lost in infancy, not even the fact of his adopted father's bequeathing him all his possessions on his deathbed could reconcile him to a world, that had, as he thought, treated him stepmotherly.

Why should he, Hermann Werner, be considered VOL. I, C ONWARDS ! BUT WHITHER ? the inferior of any man, be he Herr Baron, Herr Graf, or what not ? Was he not the equal of any man intellectually and phy sicallv ? It never occurred to him to rebel against Nature for having made him richer or stronger than others. To these advantages he considered that he had somehow a natural right above other men. Nor did he waste many thoughts on those less favoured than himself, poor devils ! who had somehow for feited their inheritance. Only what rankled in his mind was the thought of that nobility of birth, that might have been his and was not. Let no man have it then ! If he had it not, why should others ? Did he not feel himself their equal ? (Query, whether by equal he did not mean superior.) The world's ordinances were unjust, and he re belled against them.

As to an overruling Providence, that did not come into his scheme of the universe, which was pyramidal, the apex terminating in himself, and all other creatures but combining to give him a firmer basis, otherwise useless as far as his vision extended. As to Cecile Methuen, she was very necessary to his pyramid, which must stand all awry but for her. From the first day he had seen her he had loved her as a German loves — with Leidenschaft, out spokenly. At one time he had entertained no doubts of winning her, but then they had arrived at Florence, and met the Russian. And now there was her cousin. With all his powers of observation Hermann could not decide which was the more dangerous rival of the two — the stranger, whom he believed to be in love with her, or the cousin, whom he believed determined to convert her.

Lettice repelled him. He was always on his best behaviour when he talked with her, c ONWARDS ! BUT WHITHER ? 20 and he felt all the time, that she saw through him, and divined the secret of his democratic principles, though it was as yet unknown to himself. He thought, that he disliked her because of her aristocratic ideas, or because she was, as he said, so English. But in reality it was, because he felt, that she read him like a printed book, and to a man of Hermann's stamp there is nothing more in tolerable than to be found thus legible. He would like to poser as a mystery, astonishing at once by the grandeur of his ideas, and the liberality of his principles. As to the third man in the little group, the Russian, none of them knew anything of him. He was Prince Ousarof, that was all they knew.

He had sat next Lettice one day at dinner at Florence. They had met once afterwards in a Gallery. Again, what seemed chance had made the Methuens and himself companions in the same railway carriage between Florence and Rome. Arriving in Rome for the first time is an epoch in most lives ; people do not easily forget their travelling companions. Cecile and the Russian had carried on a low voiced con versation all the night through ; together they had caught the first sight of the great Dome in the morning. Neither could say which saw it first, but to have seen it thus together for the first time was, they felt, a link between them for all their after lives. Neither had shown it to the other, both had caught sight of it at once. Cecile often recalled this in other days. But while they sit over a sputtering wood fire and discuss ceremonies and sights — the staple Roman topics — flavoured by that dash of strong doctrines, that embittered so many lives during the year of the great Council, it is ONWARDS !

BUT WHITHER ? 22 only fitting that I should digress a little to introduce more fully my two heroines, and explain how they came to be sitting all through the long afternoon talking quite familiarly with three men of three different nationalities, only one of whom they had ever seen but a month before, and him only in their early childish days ; as also what had cast that deep shadow of thought over the elder sister's face. J

Chapter II. Early Days

BUT WHITHER ? 24 one of his mother's brothers — no relation of theirs. The two little girls had been given in charge to their aunt, Miss Methuen, who accepted the responsibility readily enough in the first instance, though she had never approved of her brother's second marriage with a woman, who was half French by origin, and wholly French by education. She had never seen their mother, and having a great affection for Jocelyn, who had often spent his holidays with her, whilst her brother had lived abroad after his second marriage, had been accustomed to grudge the three other children their little portion of worldly goods, as if it were an unjust dimi nution of Jocelyn's share. Nevertheless, when the two little girls were committed to her charge, she fully intended to grow very fond of them, and to play the part of the model maiden aunt, devoting all the superfluities of her income to filling up the deficiencies of theirs.

And for a time it almost seemed, as if she carried out her intention. During the first two years, that the children were with her, Miss Methuen expended at least fifty pounds of her income on buying them a piano, and hiring a little shaggy Shetland pony for them to ride in turn. But after that the piano remained, and the Shetland pony was grown too small, and it seemed undesirable to lay out any further money on purchasing luxuries for her nieces. They had got all the money they were ever likely to have, and it would be better to accustom them while young to living within their incomes. In truth, thirty years' practice of living at the rate of 500/. a year had so accustomed Miss Methuen to the sum, that she found it an effort too great for her to attempt now to change her habits. It would, ONWARDS !

BUT WHITHER ? 26 indeed, have been quite equally irksome to her to spend 100/. a year more as ioo/. a year less, though equally from old habit she continued always to murmur at the rise in prices, and often said, ' Oh dear ! how com fortable it would be to be quite rich ! I should like never to think about money at all.' In truth she never did think about it, nor about anything else very particularly, unless in the sense in which the old cow ' — — considered ' to the tune, of which it ultimately died. She soon dis covered that both her nieces were clever, and, it being a convenient theory that saved herself trouble, decided that fourteen-year old] Cecile, being already used to the two others, and knowing how her father and mother had been wont to treat them, was much more fit to manage everything for her brother and sister and herself than her 'poor old aunt,' who at her advanced age had really quite forgotten what young people were like, and did not know what they wanted.

So Cecile managed, or rather mismanaged impetuously, backed up by Lettice's common sense and steadiness of purpose, which led to the carrying through of many schemes, that Cecile herself would otherwise have let fall to the ground, and which Lettice would certainly never have imagined for herself. Lettice was a strong, healthy child, who ate her bread and butter contentedly, till she was over-persuaded by Cecile — and Lettice was always very open to an argument, before she had made up her mind — that they were both in some way very illused, and must take the law into their own hands, or worse would betide them. Cecile's grievance in their very early days was, that they were under-educated. She had heard onwards! but whither? 28 os girls of their age, who could talk three or four modern languages, besides practising for six hours a day and studying perspective. ' Well ! at all events we can practise for six hours a day,' said the more practical Lettice. ' There is the piano, and Aunt Maria was saying only the other day she wished you would practise more, it was a long time since she had heard your scales.' ' There's something the matter with my shoulder,' said Cecile.

There was always something the matter with her ; she was a sickly child, though she never had a serious illness. ' I am afraid to practise, for fear I should make it worse. It nearly made me cry whilst I was doing my hair this morning. Don't you notice I have eaten my dinner with my left hand all these last days ? ' ' No, Cecile. I never noticed,' said Lettice, greatly vexed with herself for her want of observation. For already Cecile was her idol, the one being whom Lettice loved. ' But, Cecile, you ought to lie down on the reclining board. That is the best thing, if you have anything the matter with your back or shoulders.' All through life Lettice always had a remedy for every evil, it was a trick of hers, that almost on principle she kept up, though her observation soon showed her, that in the long run most people prefer passive endur ing of evils to the active exertion of curing them.

Cecile did in this instance ; her eyes filled with tears at the bare suggestion of the re clining board. ' I have been made to lie down, and made to lie down, and I do not believe it was at all necessary. But I have done it, because I was told to. And now you talk to me of ONWARDS ! BUT WHITHER ? 30 lying down again of my own accord ! Why, is it had not been for that, I might have been able to draw by this time. You never see, Lettice, how we have been mismanaged. We are not at all stupid, and we have always been quite ready to learn, but you know we know absolutely nothing. And there's Reggie, he has every advantage, and he makes no use of it ! This was already a sore subject with the sisters, part of whose duties it was to stimu late their brother's energies in his studies. That is to say, his masters sent home com plaints of his idleness, which Miss Methuen would read aloud to Cecile, begging her to use her influence. ' For you know, my dear, it is no use my saying anything to Reginald.

And, indeed, I should not like to. What a pity he is not more like Jocelyn ! Jocelyn is so hardworking, and he always minds what is said to him ! ' ' Reggie minds what I say,' Cecile would reply a little bitterly, and indeed it was true. There were many things Master Reggie would rather face than his sister Cecile's reproaches, but then they had been com pounded with many bitter tears on both sisters' parts for long hours beforehand. Cecile continued now. ' He doesn't know as much Roman History even as I do, and I know nothing, and he reads Livy with a master. But you know, Lettice, if you would but think for a moment, we know nothing of Greek, and hardly any Latin. We can't even speak French well any longer, and there's Italian we don't know, and German, and Spanish, and all the 'ologies, which they say girls learn.

I don't even know what they are. And we don't know ONWARDS! BUT WHITHER ? 32 any Geography, and you can't call it learning History, what we do ; and then there's Philosophy, and Architecture, and in fact, if you go over all the subjects, you'll find that there are just one or two we know anything of. And we really know nothing of them. We must do something. It is too terrible to be like this. I've found a book, now, which says it teaches Spanish in five lessons. It is nothing but writing exercises and answering questions. Suppose we were to begin at once. It would be something to learn one language, and have that off one's mind.' ' Aunt Maria will think it veiy absurd our beginning Spanish. She says Latin, and French, and German are too much already, and if we write exercises she'll be sure to see them lying about,' said Lettice, rather hesitatingly.

In those days she shrank very much from opposing one of Cecile's suggestions ; but the lessons, she had already to do, quite sufficed for her. However, she saw the determined expression on her sister's face, and she hastened to add : ' If you would but come to the top of that wall, where I like to sit, Cecile, we might write them on the slates at the top of the pig-stye, and then we could look at the pigs at the same time. I like to watch animals ; it is so improving, they say,' said Lettice. ' And a great many celebrated people have done it too, Cecile.' ' Not pigs ! ' said Cecile, scornfully. ' In teresting animals ! But, still, that would be rather a good place to write.' So they began studying Spanish with great ardour, and learnt how the three travellers bought their meat, and one of them put poison into it, and so on ; but just when vol. 1.