CHAPTER XX. GLENHAUSEN.--THE POWER OF LOVE IN SANCTIFIED PLACES.--APORTRAIT OF FREDERICK BARBAROSSA.--THE AMBITION OF MEN FINDS NO ADEQUATESYMPATHY IN WOMEN.
"YOU made me tremble for you more than once," said Gertrude to thestudent; "I feared you were about to touch upon ground really sacred,but your end redeemed all."
"The false religion always tries to counterfeit the garb, the language,the aspect of the true," answered the German; "for that reason, Ipurposely suffered my tale to occasion that very fear and anxiety youspeak of, conscious that the most scrupulous would be contented when thewhole was finished."
This German was one of a new school, of which England as yet knowsnothing. We shall see hereafter what it will produce.
The student left them at Friedberg, and our travellers proceeded toGlenhausen,--a spot interesting to lovers; for here Frederick the Firstwas won by the beauty of Gela, and, in the midst of an island vale, hebuilt the Imperial Palace, in honour of the lady of his love. This spotis, indeed, well chosen of itself; the mountains of the Rhinegeburgclose it in with the green gloom of woods and the glancing waters of theKinz.
"Still, wherever we go," said Trevylyan, "we find all tradition isconnected with love; and history, for that reason, hallows less thanromance."
"It is singular," said Vane, moralizing, "that love makes but a smallpart of our actual lives, but is yet the master-key to our sympathies.The hardest of us, who laugh at the passion when they see it palpablybefore them, are arrested by some dim tradition of its existence in thepast. It is as if life had few opportunities of bringing out certainqualities within us, so that they always remain untold and dormant,susceptible to thought, but deaf to action."
"You refine and mystify too much," said Trevylyan, smiling; "none ofus have any faculty, any passion, uncalled forth, if we have _really_loved, though but for a day."
Gertrude smiled, and drawing her arm within his, Trevylyan left Vane tophilosophize on passion,--a fit occupation for one who had never feltit.
"Here let us pause," said Trevylyan, afterwards, as they visited theremains of the ancient palace, and the sun glittered on the scene, "torecall the old chivalric day of the gallant Barbarossa; let us supposehim commencing the last great action of his life; let us picture him assetting out for the Holy Land. Imagine him issuing from those walls onhis white charger,--his fiery eye somewhat dimmed by years, and hishair blanched; but nobler from the impress of time itself,--the clang ofarms; the tramp of steeds; banners on high; music pealing from hill tohill; the red cross and the nodding plume; the sun, as now glancingon yonder trees; and thence reflected from the burnished arms of theCrusaders. But, Gela--"
"Ah," said Gertrude, "_she_ must be no more; for she would have outlivedher beauty, and have found that glory had now no rival in his breast.Glory consoles men for the death of the loved; but glory is infidelityto the living."
"Nay, not so, dearest Gertrude," said Trevylyan, quickly; "for mydarling dream of Fame is the hope of laying its honours at your feet!And if ever, in future years, I should rise above the herd, I shouldonly ask if _your_ step were proud and _your_ heart elated."
"I was wrong," said Gertrude, with tears in her eyes; "and for your sakeI can be ambitious."
Perhaps there, too, she was mistaken; for one of the commondisappointments of the heart is, that women have so rarely a sympathy inour better and higher aspirings. Their ambition is not for great things;they cannot understand that desire "which scorns delight, and loveslaborious days." If they love us, they usually exact too much. Theyare jealous of the ambition to which we sacrifice so largely, and whichdivides us from them; and they leave the stern passion of great mindsto the only solitude which affection cannot share. To aspire is to bealone!
The Pilgrims of the Rhine Page 49
