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go." And yet, can it be? The soul of Can it be that those mysterious stirrings of the musician rises in revolt, and affirms heart, and keen emotions, and strange the eternity which the sense denies. He yearnings after we know not wbat, and turns to God, builder and maker of houses awful impressions from we know not not made with hands, and joy is born again whence, should be wrought in us by what of the glad confidence that, so long as God is unsubstantial, and comes and goes, and lives, there shall never be one lost good, begins and ends in itself? It is not so ! what was shall live as before," that It cannot be.” “ All we have willed or hoped or dreamed of that Mr. Browning, Miss Procter, Lord
Nothing surely could well be plainer than good shall exist, Not its semblance, but itself ; no beauty, nor Tennyson, and Cardinal Newman have, to good, nor power
say the least, felt the imaginative attractiveWhose voice has gone forth, but each survives ness of the thought that there is in music
for the melodist When eternity affirms the conception of an
a permanent element,-a something which hour."
does not pass when the sounds cease to
vibrate upon the tympanum, but which enThis thought of some soul of permanence dures forever. behind the apparent transience of musical sound has again and again found utterance. merely fanciful speculation to regard these
We think it can hardly be considered a It provided a motive for Miss Procter's voice-figures, which reveal musical sounds lyric, “ The Lost Chord;” it is hinted at in an apprehensible embodiment of form, in that passage in the "Idylls of the King” where the Seer, speaking to young of this permanence. If, in certain arti
as an indication of the reality and nature Gareth and his companions of the magical ficially provided conditions, music manicity of Camelot, says :
fests itself as form, is not this a hint that " For truly as thou sayest, a Fairy King
form, which involves a certain substanAnd Fairy Queens have built the city, son ; tiality, must be of its very essence? The They came from out a sacred mountain-cleft word " substantiality'' has, indeed, too Toward the sunrise, each with harp in hand, much materialism of suggestion to be perAnd built it to the music of their harps.
fectly satisfactory; but no better word is For an ye heard a music, like enow
available. Form, as an attribute of subThey are building still, seeing the city is built stance, is apprehended most surely by the To music, therefore never built at all,
sense of touch, and the wave-theories of And therefore built forever."
sound and light demonstrate what had long The thought is expressed once more with been tentatively believed without demonlofty eloquence in Cardinal Newman's great stration, -that of this sense our senses of Oxford sermon on The Theory of De- hearing and seeing are but finer and subtler velopment in Christian Doctrine." The manifestations. From this fact comes the preacher said :—“Take another example obvious inference that, just as the finer' of an outward and earthly form or econ tact of hearing is in essence one with the omy, under which great wonders unknown grosser sensibility to which we give the seem to be typified-I mean musical name of touch, so the objects apprehended sounds, as they are exhibited most perfectly by the former have probably, like those in instrumental harmons. There are seven apprehended by the latter, a real substance, notes in the scale ; make them fourteen ; and therefore a real form. Indeed, we yet what a slender outfit for so vast an en have all had sensible experiences of this terprise ! What science brings so much essential identity of hearing and feeling out of so little ? Out of what poor ele- which must have suggested to many the ments does some great master create his hypothesis of a similar identity of the new world! Shall we say that all this ex causes producing the diverse but allied uberant inventiveness is a mere ingenuity sensations. When an artillery review is or trick of art, like some fashion of the going on, we cannot only hear the canday, without reality, without meaning ? nonade, but feel the quiver of the glass in
Is it possible that that inexhaustible the window ; if we approach a church in evolution and disposition of notes, so rich which the organ is being played, we are yet so simple, so intricate yet so regulated, often conscious of the trembling of the 80 various yet so majestic, should be a ground some few instants before the wave mere sound which is gone and perishes ? of pure sound breaks upon the sense of NEW SERIKS. -- VOL. LIV., No 1.
hearing. Beethoven, after becoming per- inadequate utterance of a dimly discerned fectly deaf, retained some strange physical truth susceptibility which apprised him of the And if this be so, may it not also be that fact that music was being performed, and the strains which present themselves to our we have heard of an old gentleman whose hearing as sound may to more finely endeafness was as absolute as that of the great dowed natures-natures embodying our composer, but who was able-if the word vaguo conception of angelic existencemay be allowed—to “ hear" perfectly the present itself as vision of substantial realimusic of a pianoforte against the wooden ties? If the notes produced by Mrs. framework of which he pressed the palm Watts Hughes suffice to group her floating of his hand. If, then, music be appre- pigments into shapes of " weird caverns at hended by a subtle sense of touch-that the bottom of the sea, full of beautifully sense by means of which we know the colored fancy sea-anemones and musselforms and boundaries of things—there is shells, headless snakes, and fairy-cups, and nothing inherently irrational in the thought mossy entanglements of bud and leaf-like that musical combinations may have forms forni," the imagination does not find it and boundaries of their own which, though impossible to accept the belief that the now ipapprehensible by us, would at once congregated harmonies of Handel and be made apprehensible by perhaps a very Beethoven and Wagner live as forms of slight extension of the gamut of normal splendor—as lofty inountain summits, as sensation. The sea-waves leave upon the towered and templed cities, as great exbeach a sharply outlined tide-mark; must panses of luxuriant forest—in the vision of not the waves of harmony and melody leave clearer eyes than ours ; and that when the as clear and sharp an outline on the shore last chord of Abt Vogler's improvisation of ether over which they roll? To speak seemed to die upon the air, he had really of the “ shape” of a symphony or an ora put the top stone upon a palace as beautitorio sounds fantastic ; but may not such ful and enduring as that reared by the speech be merely a crude and necessarily magic of Solomon.-Spectator.
A CHEMIST IN THE SUBURBS.
BY FREDERICK WEDMORE.
tary presence. Or perhaps there was an
outstretched darkness on one side of the RICHARD Pelse was the chemist. The heavens : then a star : then again outsuburb was near the “ Angel ;” at the stretched darkness—the life of the shop top of the City Road ; on the confines of and the suburb. Islington. There he led his prosaic life Richard Pelse was one of those poor getting old, and a bachelor. But into the men who are born cultivated : one of the prosaic years—years before Islington— cultivated who are born poor. You had there had burst once the moment of Ro- only to look at him now, across the coun
Then his shop was near Oxford ter and the ranged tooth-powder pots—to Street. Into the sitting-room over it there see the clear cut head, against its backhad come, one evening, for an hour, the ground of dry drug jars and Latin-labelled lady of his dream. Unexpectedly ; sud- drawers –
“Alumens'' “ Flor : Sul ;' denly. She bad drawn her chair, by his “Pot: Bitar ;'' “Cap : Papav''-to own, to the fire. They had sat together know that he was individual. À sympa80 ; and he had been happy. She had giv- thetic spectator might call him original ; en him his tea; had opened bis piano ; an unsympathetic, eccentric. Wbat fires had played, a while, Xaver Scharwenka's burnt in the brownness of his quick, keen, wild music ; had kissed him once ; and restless eyes! What had left his facehad gone away.
not yet really old-topped with a mass of Perhaps his years before and after had silvery-white hair! There were the delieemed at times two deserts, divided by cate features, decisive and refined ; the that living stream wbich was her momen nose aquiline, the kindly mouth with ner.
vous movement at its corners. And, again, Hotel Vénat. Though a tradesman, he had the hands, -thin and white and long ; with tact as well as education ; various interests fingers and thumbs turning back prodig, and real kindliness. He could mix quite iously : flexible, subtle, sensitive. And easily with “his betters"-found his the spare figure, still quite straight, dressed “betters" much more his equals than his in the black frock-coat of his business neighbors had been. At the Vénat, an hours. Original or eccentric : man argument with an English chaplain brought whom men and women looked at : either him into contact with a family of threeliked or feared.
Colonel Image, a military politician, very At home for years within a stone's throw well connected, and busy in the House ; of the Angel, he had all bis life been a and his wife, who was above all things Londoner. Energy and diligence he had fashionable ; and his daughter, who was had from his boyhood, but country color blonde and nineteen. had never come into his cheeks ; no robust Richard Pelse must certainly then, with ness of the sea's giving, into his frame. all his earlier deficiencies and disadvanAll his pursuits were of the town--and tages, bave been picturesque, and almost nearly all his recollections. His mother elegant, as well as interesting. The imwas a widowed little news-agent-a with- pulsive Miss Image found him
so. In the ered woman, once pretty and vivacious-- garden, from his ground-floor bedroom, who kept, when he was a child and a lad, there had been a vision of a tall white figher news-shop in a by-way, two doors from ure, of floating muslin, of pale colored North Audley Street. His father! He hair. Nearer, there were seen dancing never knew him.
eyes, large and gray, and a mouth that When he was twelve years old his was Cupid's bow. At table d'hôte there mother died, and a customer of theirs, a was heard the voice that he liked best, and druggist of the quarter, took him as liked at once. A voice? Hardly. An “ useful boy.” Had he ever changed and instrument of music. You listened to it risen so far afterward as to be a famous as to a well-used violin. physician, it would have been told of him, In the drawing-room he got into talk in pride, or as astonishing, that he had with her. Was she not, unexpectedly, been an errand boy only. As it was, he the ideal realized ?—the lady of the dream had in fact been that, but something be- of all his youth. sides. He was so intelligent that gradually But that night he reflected on the dishe had got into all the work of the shop. tance between them. He was no ambiHe was civil, and comely too. From sell- tious snob, scheming for marriage in a ing things behind the counter, he was sphere not his. The distance—the disput into the dispensary. He educated tance! No, there could never be marhimself; he passed his examinations ; he riage, or, his career must change first. became an assistant who was entirely Should he leave to-morrow, and forget the necessary ; then he became a partner. At encounter ? Should he enjoy her for two thirty-five he was a prosperous man and days, and forget her then instead, or hug alone ; the shop's earlier master having re the memory ? At all events, he did not tired. For Richard Pelse, before that go. happened, there had been twenty years of And on both sides, in the short two progress, and of self-denial ; no doubt of days--prolonged to three and four—there satisfactory, but of unremitting work. was interest and fascination. Perhaps he Then he allowed himself a holiday, and should have told her father who he was. with a valise by his side and a “ Bae- Instead of it, he told her. There was a deker" in his pocket, started for Switzer- recoil then-and it might have saved them.' land and Savoy.
Her knowledge of the world and of the II.
convenances-nineteen, but bred in society
--was suddenly uppermost. Nothing Mr. Pelse bad made more than half his more could be said to him, and she would tour and had got over his surprises, the mention to her mother as a piece of gossip sense of all that was strange, when he to be heard and forgotten-as the funny found himself, one Sunday, arrived at adventure of travelling and of chance acAix-les-Bains for two days' rest, and for quaintance—that the man was a shopthe charm of its beauty. He stayed at the keeper, a chemist ; might have sold her
sponges, nail brushes, eau de Cologne. nothing but class that divides us. Then the simplicity, the naturalness, done something already, if you recollect warmth, impulsiveness—which were in her how I began. I could do more, and go a too-came uppermost in their turn. She good deal further. You are the first lady would tell none of that. She would keep I ever talked to, intimately. You would him to herself, for the time at least—him change me—you would bring me up to and his secret. There was mutual attrac- you. tion, strong and unquestionable. Elective “ There is nothing in me to bring you affinities. "And such things had their up to, Dick. Think how young I am! I rights.
am a little fool, who happened to take a Wilful and independent—it seemed so fancy to you. Pretty, am I? But a little then-she laid herself out to be with him. fool, after all. You treated me so gravely Mrs. Image was indolent, physically. In and so well. I had been flattered often the morning the military politician was enough. And I was mad to be respected. wont to wait in the ante-chamber of a man There is no chivalry left. of science who was great on the healing Your respect was flattery, too. . .. Here waters ; later in the day he was borne is my photograph, because I trust you. from the Bath House, closely mutiled, in But forget me, forget me! My last word. a curtained chair, and put to bed till Take my hand. And good-by !" dinner-time at the hotel. He was not He took her hands—both of them and seriously ill, however, and the treatment, so saw the last of her. And, by another which had begun a fortnight before Rich- train, he too went back to London, to the ard Pelse's arrival, would now soon be chemist's shop. over. Anyhow their opportunities were It was curious, at first, to think, as he numbered. There was an end to meetings was making up prescriptions, or giving
-chance meetings, after all, though wished them to his assistants, that she was within for on both sides—at noon, under the a stone's throw of that pestle and mortar : shade of the grouped trees in a sun-smit- almost within sight of the green and red ten park encircled by the mountains ; at and straw-colored jars that stood in his night, amid the soft illuminations of the shop window and were the sign of his Villa des Fleurs, whither Miss Image was calling. His shop was in Orchard Street ; chaperoned ; again at breakfast time, when their house in Manchester Square. Once, almost from the open windows of the hotel did she pass the shop? Once, when he could be discerned, here and there, be- was on the Oxford Street pavement, was tween luxuriant foliage, gold and green- that she, borne along in a Victoria ! beyond the richness of walnut and chestnut But gradually he was training himself to branch, beyond the vines, beyond the pop- forget all that. He was loyal, obedientlar marshes and the sunny fields-a Jevel was accepting the inevitable. Was it not flash of turquoise, which was the Lac de a chance fancy? Was it not in sheer imBourget.
pulsiveness-in recognition of he wondered “ We go to-night,” said Beatrice, what in him, besides the deepest admiration meeting Mr. Pelse by the Roman Arch, —that she had flung him her confidence ; when she had deposited her father for his honored him by liking! Could that last last consultation.
with her! Could it anyhow have lasted ! “ Should I speak to Colonel Image ?” Probably he would never see her again. he urged, almost hopelessly.
Might he not one day console himself ?“I was mad for you to do it ; but you he once half whispered. No—it could never must. Nothing could possibly come never be that. He was so dainty about of it but harm. Yon must be loyal and women ; he was so particular—he either obey me. There is not the very ghost of wanted nothing, or exacted so much—the a chance for us. ... Oh! you won't experience of a rapid fascination would think of me very long. You have your never be repeated. He was an idealist, own life, you know; and I must have of those who want, in women, a picture mine. Silly, silly lovers! I might wait ; and a vision : not a housekeeper. but then it could never, never be. Dick !
III. --forget me !"
“And in England we live almost in the The autumn dragged along. Pelse had next street," he said to her. “There is acquired from America the rights to an
exclusive sale of a particular preparation of arms, detaching veil and the broad velvet the Hypophosphites, and the Society hat ; a minute afterward, laying aside her doctors—the men who had charge of furs and her warm wraps, the glowing face Royalty and of over-tasked celebrities, of of a swift walker in the winter weather smart people, and of the very rich-had was made visible : the blonde head, the taken to recommend it. The extra work slim and straight and rounded figure had which that involved made him very busy, got up to the fireplace. She put her hand and his own more accustomed work, in all out toward Richard Pelse. He took it, its thousand details, was done at his shop exclaimed to her, by her name : nothing with such a singular nicety-of which he “ Beatrice !!! - wheeled a chair to of course was the inspirer—that the shop the fire. And down she sat. was more and more frequented.
“ Yes. I could stand it no longer. I Winter succeeded to autumn. A thick have passed the place so often. I wis fog had Jain for days over Orchard Street.
mad to see you.
They are gone into the Then there came a little snow. But in the country on a visit. I could manage it toparlor over the shop--with the three win- night. She looked quite good and sweet dows closely curtained—one could have and serious-passionate it might be, as well forgetfulness of weather. There was the as young, but, at all events, no intriguing neat fireplace ; the little low tea- table ; a Miss. Strange—the intuitive trust she had bookcase in which Pelse—before that crit- in him, to come there so ! Perhaps you ical event at Aix-les-Bains-had been put- can give me some tea ?” ting, gradually, first editions of the Eng. He flew downstairs to order it-a bell's lish Poets ; a cabinet of china, in which- summons would have been inadequate to but always before Aix-les-Bains—he had the occasion, and would have given no vent taken to accumulate some pretty English to his delight. Ten minutes after, it was things of whitest paste or finest painting : in front of the fire. The lamp was just a Worcester cup, with its exotic birds, its behind her. Might he be calm now; lasting gold, its scale-blue ground, like might he be excited ? Might he be parlapis lazuli or sapphire ; a Chelsea figure ; alyzed with astonishment ? She was so something from Swansea ; white plates of quiet and so bright, he was made quiet too. Nantgarw, bestrewn with Billingsley's pink She sat there as in an old and daily place gray roses, of which he knew the beauty, -the blonde head, the eyes, the figure's the free artistic touch. How the things lines. He was so happy. Suddenly his had lost interest for him! “From the house was made a home. moment,' says some French art critic, “ How have you been ?
How are that a woman occupies me, my collec- you ?”! But before he answered, he had tion does not exist. And many a woman given her a stool, respectfully : had put a may lay claim to occupy a French art critic; cushion at her head.
" How good of only one had occupied Richard Pelse. you !" she said, with her gray eyes very
It was on an evening in December, when beautiful : thanking him for his mental atPelse was in the sitting-room, tired with titude : not for his cushion and his stocl. the day's labors, and not particularly happy “Well, you know, I have been trying with the evening newspapers—for, apart to forget you. Have you changed your from any causes of private discontent, the mind ?” She gazed into the fire. Pall Mall had told him that our upper the time come for me to speak ?” he classes were unworthy of confidence, and continued. His chair was close beside from the St. James's he had gathered that hers. Why did you come here ??' even the lower could scarcely boast com- “I suppose I felt you cared about me. plete enlightenment—it was on an evening And I was sick of not coming. I suppose in December, when the chemist was so
I felt you
were a friend. No, I don't circumstanced, that his neat servant, open- think I have changed my mind at all. ing the door of the parlor, held it back But I am one of the girls wbo can do mad for the entrance of a veiled tall lady. things. And girls who can do mad things, “Miss Image,” said the servant, for the once or twice in their lives at all events, name had been frankly given her.
commoner- much commoner-than The servant vanished. Richard Pelse proper people think. So here I am ! rose from his seat, with his heart beating. 'Tisn't wonderful. Father and mother are The tall lady was standing there with lifted at Lord Sevenoak’s."