Vivian Grey/Volume 5/Chapter 7.6
CHAPTER VI.
"Well, Mr. Grey!" said the Doctor, as Vivian entered the dining-room, "have you been asleep after your ride, or has Mistress Theresa, according to her usual custom, been showing you the family curiosities?"
"Neither the one nor the other, Doctor; but I was delayed in my room."
"Ah! I don't want any explanation. I hate explanations. What sort of an appetite have you got?"
"Oh! a very good one; and I have no doubt that I shall do full justice to—"
"Ah! you need not tell me what you are going to do. Come, sit down to the table. Melinda, give me some soup—and Mr. Grey, I'll thank you for an outside slice of that beef in it—and Francis, bring me some sour kraut, and those stewed apricots from the side table."
While Miss von Spittergen was helping Vivian, the Doctor proceeded to chop and mash up all these contrasting viands in his large soup plate. Four spoonfuls emptied it, before his guest had tasted a mouthful; for, though in violation of all etiquette, Vivian could not take his eyes off the owner of the appetite. His astonishment did not escape notice.
"What are you looking at?" asked the Doctor, gruffly. "You had better eat your own dinner than stare at me."
"I beg pardon, but"
"Ah! don't beg pardon. I hate apologies."
Vivian, much confused, turned round to his fairer neighbour; and, to his horror, found that she was consuming her dinner after the same fashion, though it must be confessed not with equal rapidity of execution.
"You see your dinner, Mr. Grey," said Miss von Spittergen. "We never consider any one a stranger. Shall I give you some more soup?"
"More soup! what is he going to dine off soup? Why don't you give him some beef, and cream, and kid, and custard? He must eat."
"Yes, Doctor, I thank you; I will taste your good dishes—but not all at once."
"Pish! what should you know about it! You eat your dinner on a wrong principle, or rather on no principle at all. Take all that you want on your plate at once. I suppose, if you were set down to a venison pasty, you would eat the flour and water, and butter and balls, and eggs and truffles, and wine and spices, and fat and flesh, all separately! that's your notion of feeding, is it? What are you laughing at?"
"Do you, then, recommend Doctor—"
"Recommend! I recommend nothing! what's the use of recommending? people never attend."
"But I will attend, Doctor," said Vivian. "Remember, I am already an obedient patient ; therefore, I believe I shall trouble you, Miss von Spittergen, in the first place, for a small slice of that kid—"
"Couldn't take any thing worse! no nourishment in it! How comes it here, Melinda?"
"Well then, Doctor, I'll follow your example, and take some of the beef."
"Ah! you should have begun with it at once: better late than never though. You have been badly managed, I see that! Stay with us a month; we'll soon get you round. Now, you must have some of your physic! Francis, give Mr. Grey the wine."
"Perhaps I may have the honour of taking a glass with you, Miss von Spittergen?" asked Vivian.
"Taking a glass with her! what's the matter with her, that she is to take wine?"
"Possibly you are not aware, Mr. Grey," said Miss von Spittergen, "that in this house we never take wine, except as a medicine: let me join you in my usual beverage."
"A glass of filtered water!" growled the Doctor; "if you are a wise man, you'll make that your drink; that is, as soon as we have made something of you."
"Filtered water!" exclaimed Vivian, with surprise.
"Yes, filtered water! who the deuce drinks water without filtering it? I suppose you are fond of fattening yourself with the scum of eels, vipers, lizards, newts, tadpoles, frogs, rats, and all other filth, animal and vegetable."
"If water contain all these monsters and horrors," said Vivian laughing, "I should have thought that it would have been the favourite beverage of your system, Doctor. Is it not correct, then, to drink all things at once, as well as eat them? But surely," continued Vivian, "a glass of spring water must be free from all these disgusting appurtenances."
"Pish! it shows how much you know about the matter. Did you ever see a drop of water through a microscope?—You havn't, eh?—I thought not. Melinda, after dinner show him the microscope. We'll amuse you as well as we can."
Dinner being over, the Doctor retired to his study, and Miss von Spittergen and Vivian agreed to take a stroll.
"Now, Mr. Grey," said the lady, "you must know that I am a great walker. Some dislike moving after dinner; but if that be not your case, I propose taking you my usual round and first of all, as I see Peter coming out of the stable, I wish to say a word to him about Marcus Aurelius." Miss von Spittergen proceeded to give directions for all her horse's shoes to be taken off overnight, and his frogs looked to in the morning. "Now," continued she, "I must see how they go on with their wood-stacking. We have lately had a fall of beech-wood; and although all of us have been busily picking and splitting for the last week, we have not yet finished. It is very important that the stacks should be well piled. Last year, when I was absent, and trusted the business to our neighbour's steward, we had more than half our stock spoiled by the rains, and a great quantity besides fell over. I admire nothing more than a well-stacked pile of wood. It is always a sign of good management."
"I am ashamed to own," said Vivian, "how ignorant I am upon all these points; though I assure you I do not the less admire your perfect acquaintance with the subject. To me, it is equally new and delightful to see a lady so completely interesting herself in her domestic economy."
"There is little merit in my exertions;" said Miss von Spittergen. "Although I am, at the present moment, extremely fond of the life I lead, necessity, not choice, first made me mistress of these details. Their acquisition is, at least, a proof of the truth of my observations of this morning; though, I suppose, according to your theory," continued Miss von Spittergen, smiling; "to direct a fall of wood or the thatching of a granary, which I must superintend to-morrow morning, are not very meritorious actions; I being, in a great measure, enabled to interfere in such affairs, from the possession of that unfortunate physical strength, which, if you remember, Mr. Grey, is no proof of excellence."
The walk lasted some hours; there was much done—much said. The fields, the meadows, the orchards, the woods, all demanded some care, and received some superintendance. Many men were to be instructed, and ordered, and directed. One field was to lie fallow, another to be sown with different seed. The cattle were to change their meadows. Some woods were to be counted, some hills to be planted. On all these affairs, and on all these subjects, Miss von Spittergen was the directing head. No one applied to her, and returned unsatisfied: every one received a ready answer. Yet with all these calls upon her attention and her judgment, she did not fail to prove a most interesting companion. Her general conversation showed that her mind was highly cultivated and accomplished. She also detailed to Vivian, as passing objects gave rise to the subject, the various plans of her father and herself, for the amelioration of the condition of their tenants, which they wished principally to bring about by extricating them from the harassing restraints of the old feudal system, injurious alike to the landlord and the tenant. Her admiration of Nature also was sincere, and her taste refined. As they walked along, she called her companion's attention to any striking combination and effect—a peep at the distant country, through an opening in a deep wood—the light of the declining sun, seen through the trunks of a grove of beeches—a waterfall caused by a strong brook dashing over some sand rocks, and cooling the boughs of the white-rind willows. Although Vivian, the latter years of his life, had actually lived in a forest, it seemed that he had gained more information on his much-loved trees in a few hours' walk with Miss von Spittergen, than he had during the whole time that he was roaming about Heidelburgh. He was now strongly reminded of the great difference between reverie, and observation. He remembered sitting for hours with his eyes fixed upon a tree, of whose nature he now found himself utterly ignorant; for Miss von Spittergen spoke of the physiology of trees; and Vivian was ashamed when he confessed his want of knowledge. While he expressed, his wonder and admiration of much that she said, she promised that in the evening, the microscope should elucidate and reveal more. The air was mild and sweet—the exercise exhilarating—conversation never flagged. Without annoying such a woman with unmeaning compliments, Vivian properly evinced his admiration of Miss von Spittergen's accomplishments; and delicately conveyed to her his sincere declarations that, for a long time, he had not passed a day so agreeably, and with such satisfaction.
"I told you," continued Miss von Spittergen, "that necessity, not choice, first induced me to adopt a mode of life, which now has for me the greatest charms. I passed my earliest years with an uncle, an old baron, in a Gothic castle. A library full of romances soon convinced me that I was born to be a heroine, and that unless I were a heroine, life had no delight. For the common-place realities of life, I entertained a thorough disgust; I rode all day through my uncle's park and forests in quest of a hero for the romance which I formed in my nightly reveries. I lived in a world of my own creation; I conversed with no one. My mind was constantly occupied with an impossible idea. Passing my time thus, I formed no conception of the existence of duties. My fellow creatures, if I thought of them at all, were merely the instruments by whose agency I was to pass my life in a constant state of excitement. Very short time elapsed, before I was convinced that I was a peculiar being, and was ordained to occasion some singular revolution. I expected, every day, the crisis of my fate. About this time my dear and only brother died in battle; and my mother, overcome by the loss, followed him in a few weeks, to the grave. My desolate parent now demanded from my uncle, his only remaining child. I left the castle with no reluctance, for I was firmly convinced that my career was now to begin. The appearance of my father, whom I had seen regularly every year, was the first shock to my romance. He was so overwhelmed by his misery, that his terrible grief called forth in me those natural sensations, of the existence of which I was ignorant. You must know, Mr. Grey," continued Miss von Spittergen, with a smile; "that I am the most decided enemy of long stories, and therefore I shall cut my own very short. The result of my return to my home is evident to you. To be the consoler, and then the confidant, and then the assistant of my father, were quick decrees of my destiny. A mind naturally ardent and enthusiastic, was now, I am sure, well directed; and has been, I trust, well employed. To my beloved and highly gifted parent, I have endeavoured to be both wife, and son, and daughter. By my exertions, the loss of his dear connexions has not disarranged the accustomed tenour of his life; nor has his mind been troubled by duties, for which his temper and education have completely unfitted him. Under a rough exterior, he conceals the most generous and beneficent of dispositions; and in spite of his quaint humour, you cannot live many days with him without discovering the cultivation of his intellect. I need not add that my romance was quickly dissipated, and my father has become to me the hero of my reality."
Miss von Spittergen entered the house, to arrange her dress for the evening. Vivian remained on the terrace. The red autumnal sun had just sunk over an immense extent of champaign country. The evening mists from the ruddy river were already ascending, and the towers and steeples of a neighbouring city rose black against the shining sky. Sunset is the time when memory is most keen; and as Vivian Grey sat on the marble wall, gazing on the wide landscape, his sorrowing mind was not inactive. Never, until this moment, had he felt how precious, how invaluable, were the possession and the performance of a duty! The simple tale of his late companion had roused a thousand thoughts. His early, his insane career, flitted across his mind. He would have stifled the remembrance with a sigh; but man is the slave of Memory. He, too, had thought himself a peculiar creature: he, too, had lived in a world of his own creation: he, too, had sacrificed himself to an idea: he, too, had looked upon his fellow-creatures as the puppets of his will. Would that his reveries had been as harmless as this maiden's! Would that he could compensate for his errors, and forget his follies in a life of activity, of usefulness, of beneficence! To the calm satisfaction and equal tenor of such a life, why had he madly preferred the wearing anxiety, the consuming care, the eternal vigilance, the constant contrivance, the agonizing susepnse, the distracting vicissitudes of his own career? Alas! it is our nature to sicken, from our birth, after some object of unattainable felicity—to struggle through the freshest years of our life in an insane pursuit after some indefinite good, which does not even exist! But sure, and quick, is the dark hour which cools our doting frenzy in the frigid waves of the ocean of Oblivion! We dream of immortality until we die. Ambition! at thy proud and fatal altar, we whisper the secrets of our mighty thoughts, and breathe the aspirations of our inexpressible desires. A clouded flame licks up the offering of our ruined souls, and the sacrifice vanishes in the sable smoke of Death.
But where are his thoughts wandering? Had he forgot that day of darkest despair? There had that happened to him, which had happened to no other man. In the conflict of his emotions he ceased to reason. This moment he believed himself the slave of Destiny, and the next, the sport of Chance. Sad, and serious, and wavering, Vivian entered the house, uncertain of every thing except his misery.
He found Dr. von Spittergen and his agreeable daughter at the tea-table.
"Well, Mr. Grey," said the Doctor, "which do you prefer? the Ficki-tsiaa, or the Ben-tsiaa?"
"Really, Sir, I am almost afraid to avow, that I am perfectly ignorant of what you are talking about."
"Perfectly ignorant of what I am talking about! Why, Melinda, here is Mr. Grey drinking tea every day of his life, and does not know the proper name of it, even when he hears it mentioned; and he belongs to a tea-drinking nation too!"
"Why, my good Sir, I know the difference between black, and green tea."
"How do you know that there is a difference? Linnæus says there is: Thunberg says there is not. If you can decide, pray instruct us."
"I believe," said Vivian, "there is no nation which drinks more tea, and knows less of its nature and culture, than the English. We are always satisfied to take what is given us for black or green."
"You are not so easy to be dealt with about wine though," said the Doctor, laughing: "merely to be aware of the difference between red and white wine is, I imagine, information not sufficiently definite to tempt an Englishman to taste it; and why should you be less particular about tea? of which you receive in your country eight or nine different kinds. I suppose you are so indifferent about it, because you drink it twice a-day, and wine only once! Ho! ho—o—o—o!" This was the learned doctor's laugh: something like the hoot of a facetious owl.
"Well, my dear father," said Miss von Spittergen, "the best way to teach Mr. Grey the difference will be, to give him a basin of your curious Ficki-tsiaa."
"Yes: and while you make it, I'll tell him what it means. As society is divided into three classes," continued the Doctor, "so are there three different gatherings of tea, suited to the quality of each. I suppose you know that tea is the leaf of a shrub? The first gathering commences in the beginning of March, when the leaves are small and tender, not more than four days' growth. This kind you are going to drink—the Ficki-tsiaa, or imperial, kept for the Court and people of quality. This was given to me by a young Prince of Orange, who sickened at our Court. No wonder! He thought I had saved his life; I only sent him home. The second gathering takes place in the beginning of April. The leaves are then pretty well grown. This they call Too-tsiaa: this infusion is good enough for the middling classes. And in June, all the leaves which have not been stripped off for their betters, get tough and pungent, and are left for the mob, and this they call Ben-tsiaa: and I think it is the best of all. We always drink it; don't we, Melinda?"
Vivian, though very much amused by the Doctor's lecture, could not help watching his fair daughter, whose novel method of infusing this very rare beverage not a little surprised him. Miss von Spittergen first filled a cup with boiling water, and then threw into it a teaspoonful of powder, which she took out of a small porcelain vase. She stirred the powder in the water till the liquid began to foam, and then she offered the cup to Vivian.
"Drink it off!" said the Doctor; "and let us hear how you like Ficki-tsiaa."
"But are not all these particles to settle first?" asked Vivian, who was rather fearful of the boiling draught.
"I suppose," said the Doctor, "you let all your vegetables settle in your soup, before your delicacy can venture to sip it. Drink it off, man! Perhaps you think it is like that confounded stuff made in England, called bohea, which deposits in every cup a mash of sloe-leaves!"
The Doctor drank plentifully of his favourite Ben-tsiaa, and praised the shrub in proportion to his enjoyment. He compared it with wine, on which latter beverage he wreaked his spleen without mercy, enumerating all the evils which the immoderate use of fermented liquors produces; while tea, on the contrary, he declared would contribute more to the sobriety of a nation, than the severest laws, the most eloquent sermons, or the best moral treatises. It was a perfect antidote to intemperance. The man who relishes tea, seldom wants wine.
Vivian reminded Miss von Spittergen of her promise about the microscope and the trees; and in a few minutes they were busily examining a cutting of ash. She first pointed out to him the bark, and described its uses; and then explained the sap-vessels, the lymph-ducts, the great and lesser air-vessels, the pith, and the true wood. She also pointed out the annual rings which mark the age of the tree, and showed likewise a dissected leaf, exhibiting the nerves branching out into innumerable small threads; and explained to him how the pores in the leaf served both for perspiration and absorption. Vivian was quite surprised to discover the proximity in the economy of vegetable and animal life. It appeared to him, that, with the exception of sensibility and motion, one system was nearly as complete as the other. Nor, while he found himself acquiring so much new information, could he help mournfully feeling, how very different an acquaintance with the World is, to a knowledge of Nature.