Chapter III
The shock which this disastrous occurrence occasioned to my mother, wasthe foundation of a disease which carried her, in a few months, to thegrave. My brother and myself were children at this time, and were nowreduced to the condition of orphans. The property which our parents leftwas by no means inconsiderable. It was entrusted to faithful hands,till we should arrive at a suitable age. Meanwhile, our education wasassigned to a maiden aunt who resided in the city, and whose tendernessmade us in a short time cease to regret that we had lost a mother.
The years that succeeded were tranquil and happy. Our lives weremolested by few of those cares that are incident to childhood. Byaccident more than design, the indulgence and yielding temper of ouraunt was mingled with resolution and stedfastness. She seldom deviatedinto either extreme of rigour or lenity. Our social pleasures weresubject to no unreasonable restraints. We were instructed in mostbranches of useful knowledge, and were saved from the corruption andtyranny of colleges and boarding-schools.
Our companions were chiefly selected from the children of ourneighbours. Between one of these and my brother, there quickly grew themost affectionate intimacy. Her name was Catharine Pleyel. She was rich,beautiful, and contrived to blend the most bewitching softness withthe most exuberant vivacity. The tie by which my brother and she wereunited, seemed to add force to the love which I bore her, and whichwas amply returned. Between her and myself there was every circumstancetending to produce and foster friendship. Our sex and age were the same.We lived within sight of each other's abode. Our tempers were remarkablycongenial, and the superintendants of our education not only prescribedto us the same pursuits, but allowed us to cultivate them together.
Every day added strength to the triple bonds that united us. Wegradually withdrew ourselves from the society of others, and found everymoment irksome that was not devoted to each other. My brother's advancein age made no change in our situation. It was determined that hisprofession should be agriculture. His fortune exempted him from thenecessity of personal labour. The task to be performed by him wasnothing more than superintendance. The skill that was demanded by thiswas merely theoretical, and was furnished by casual inspection, orby closet study. The attention that was paid to this subject did notseclude him for any long time from us, on whom time had no other effectthan to augment our impatience in the absence of each other and ofhim. Our tasks, our walks, our music, were seldom performed but in eachother's company.
It was easy to see that Catharine and my brother were born for eachother. The passion which they mutually entertained quickly broke thosebounds which extreme youth had set to it; confessions were made orextorted, and their union was postponed only till my brother hadpassed his minority. The previous lapse of two years was constantly andusefully employed.
O my brother! But the task I have set myself let me perform withsteadiness. The felicity of that period was marred by no gloomyanticipations. The future, like the present, was serene. Time wassupposed to have only new delights in store. I mean not to dwell onprevious incidents longer than is necessary to illustrate or explainthe great events that have since happened. The nuptial day at lengtharrived. My brother took possession of the house in which he was born,and here the long protracted marriage was solemnized.
My father's property was equally divided between us. A neat dwelling,situated on the bank of the river, three quarters of a mile from mybrother's, was now occupied by me. These domains were called, from thename of the first possessor, Mettingen. I can scarcely account for myrefusing to take up my abode with him, unless it were from a dispositionto be an economist of pleasure. Self-denial, seasonably exercised, isone means of enhancing our gratifications. I was, beside, desirous ofadministering a fund, and regulating an household, of my own. The shortdistance allowed us to exchange visits as often as we pleased. Thewalk from one mansion to the other was no undelightful prelude to ourinterviews. I was sometimes their visitant, and they, as frequently,were my guests.
Our education had been modelled by no religious standard. We were leftto the guidance of our own understanding, and the casual impressionswhich society might make upon us. My friend's temper, as well as my own,exempted us from much anxiety on this account. It must not be supposedthat we were without religion, but with us it was the product oflively feelings, excited by reflection on our own happiness, and by thegrandeur of external nature. We sought not a basis for our faith, inthe weighing of proofs, and the dissection of creeds. Our devotion wasa mixed and casual sentiment, seldom verbally expressed, or solicitouslysought, or carefully retained. In the midst of present enjoyment,no thought was bestowed on the future. As a consolation in calamityreligion is dear. But calamity was yet at a distance, and its onlytendency was to heighten enjoyments which needed not this addition tosatisfy every craving.
My brother's situation was somewhat different. His deportment was grave,considerate, and thoughtful. I will not say whether he was indebted tosublimer views for this disposition. Human life, in his opinion, wasmade up of changeable elements, and the principles of duty were noteasily unfolded. The future, either as anterior, or subsequent to death,was a scene that required some preparation and provision to be made forit. These positions we could not deny, but what distinguished him was apropensity to ruminate on these truths. The images that visited us wereblithsome and gay, but those with which he was most familiar were ofan opposite hue. They did not generate affliction and fear, but theydiffused over his behaviour a certain air of forethought and sobriety.The principal effect of this temper was visible in his features andtones. These, in general, bespoke a sort of thrilling melancholy. Iscarcely ever knew him to laugh. He never accompanied the lawless mirthof his companions with more than a smile, but his conduct was the sameas ours.
He partook of our occupations and amusements with a zeal not less thanours, but of a different kind. The diversity in our temper was neverthe parent of discord, and was scarcely a topic of regret. The scenewas variegated, but not tarnished or disordered by it. It hindered theelement in which we moved from stagnating. Some agitation and concussionis requisite to the due exercise of human understanding. In his studies,he pursued an austerer and more arduous path. He was much conversantwith the history of religious opinions, and took pains to ascertaintheir validity. He deemed it indispensable to examine the ground ofhis belief, to settle the relation between motives and actions, thecriterion of merit, and the kinds and properties of evidence.
There was an obvious resemblance between him and my father, in theirconceptions of the importance of certain topics, and in the light inwhich the vicissitudes of human life were accustomed to be viewed.Their characters were similar, but the mind of the son was enriched byscience, and embellished with literature.
The temple was no longer assigned to its ancient use. From an Italianadventurer, who erroneously imagined that he could find employmentfor his skill, and sale for his sculptures in America, my brother hadpurchased a bust of Cicero. He professed to have copied this piece froman antique dug up with his own hands in the environs of Modena. Of thetruth of his assertions we were not qualified to judge; but the marblewas pure and polished, and we were contented to admire the performance,without waiting for the sanction of connoisseurs. We hired the sameartist to hew a suitable pedestal from a neighbouring quarry. This wasplaced in the temple, and the bust rested upon it. Opposite to this wasa harpsichord, sheltered by a temporary roof from the weather. This wasthe place of resort in the evenings of summer. Here we sung, and talked,and read, and occasionally banqueted. Every joyous and tender scene mostdear to my memory, is connected with this edifice. Here the performancesof our musical and poetical ancestor were rehearsed. Here my brother'schildren received the rudiments of their education; here a thousandconversations, pregnant with delight and improvement, took place; andhere the social affections were accustomed to expand, and the tear ofdelicious sympathy to be shed.
My brother was an indefatigable student. The authors whom he read werenumerous, but the chief
object of his veneration was Cicero. He wasnever tired of conning and rehearsing his productions. To understandthem was not sufficient. He was anxious to discover the gestures andcadences with which they ought to be delivered. He was very scrupulousin selecting a true scheme of pronunciation for the Latin tongue, and inadapting it to the words of his darling writer. His favorite occupationconsisted in embellishing his rhetoric with all the proprieties ofgesticulation and utterance.
Not contented with this, he was diligent in settling and restoring thepurity of the text. For this end, he collected all the editions andcommentaries that could be procured, and employed months of severe studyin exploring and comparing them. He never betrayed more satisfactionthan when he made a discovery of this kind.
It was not till the addition of Henry Pleyel, my friend's only brother,to our society, that his passion for Roman eloquence was countenancedand fostered by a sympathy of tastes. This young man had been some yearsin Europe. We had separated at a very early age, and he was now returnedto spend the remainder of his days among us.
Our circle was greatly enlivened by the accession of a new member. Hisconversation abounded with novelty. His gaiety was almost boisterous,but was capable of yielding to a grave deportment when the occasionrequired it. His discernment was acute, but he was prone to view everyobject merely as supplying materials for mirth. His conceptionswere ardent but ludicrous, and his memory, aided, as he honestlyacknowledged, by his invention, was an inexhaustible fund ofentertainment.
His residence was at the same distance below the city as ours was above,but there seldom passed a day without our being favoured with a visit.My brother and he were endowed with the same attachment to the Latinwriters; and Pleyel was not behind his friend in his knowledge of thehistory and metaphysics of religion. Their creeds, however, were in manyrespects opposite. Where one discovered only confirmations of his faith,the other could find nothing but reasons for doubt. Moral necessity,and calvinistic inspiration, were the props on which my brother thoughtproper to repose. Pleyel was the champion of intellectual liberty, andrejected all guidance but that of his reason. Their discussions werefrequent, but, being managed with candour as well as with skill, theywere always listened to by us with avidity and benefit.
Pleyel, like his new friends, was fond of music and poetry. Henceforthour concerts consisted of two violins, an harpsichord, and three voices.We were frequently reminded how much happiness depends upon society.This new friend, though, before his arrival, we were sensible of novacuity, could not now be spared. His departure would occasion a voidwhich nothing could fill, and which would produce insupportable regret.Even my brother, though his opinions were hourly assailed, and even thedivinity of Cicero contested, was captivated with his friend, and laidaside some part of his ancient gravity at Pleyel's approach.