A Mere Accident | Page 8

a solicitor, and never to
see his tenants? Why does he not come and live at his own beautiful
place? Why does he not take up his position in the county? He is not a
magistrate. Why does he not get married?... he is the last; there is no
one to follow him. But he never thinks of that--he is afraid that a
woman might prove a disturbing influence in his life ... he feels that he
must live in an atmosphere of higher emotions. That's the way he talks,
and he is meditating, I assure you, a book on the literature of the
Middle Ages, on the works of bishops and monks who wrote Latin in
the early centuries. His mind, he says, is full of the cadences of that
language. That's the way he writes. He never asks me about his
property, never consults me in anything. Here is a letter I received
yesterday. Listen:
"'The poverty of spiritual life amid the western pagans could not fail to
encourage the growth of new religious tendencies. An epoch of great
spiritual activity had been succeeded by one of complete stagnation. A
glance at the literary progress of Rome since Tiberius will show this
emancipation from national and political considerations, the influence
of cosmopolitanism gave to the best specimens of Latin prose of the
silver age such riches and variety of substance and such individuality of
expression, that Seneca and Tacitus and the letters of Pliny are marked
with many modern characteristics. Form and language appear in these
writers only as the instrument and the matter wherewith men of genius
would express their intimate personality. Here antique culture rises
above itself, but, mark you, at the expense of all that is proper to the
Roman nation. Cosmopolitan Hellenism forces and breaks down the
bars of classical traditions, and, weary of restrictions these writers first
sought personal satisfaction, and then addressed themselves to scholars
rather than the people.

"'But Hellenism found its medium in the Greek language, rich to satiety,
and possessing a syntax of such extraordinary flexibility, that it could
follow all evolutions without being shaken in its organism. It was in
vain that the Latin literature sought to maintain its position by harking
back to the writers anterior to Cicero, those that Hellenism had not
touched, and presenting them as models of style; and thus a new school
very fain of antiquity had sprung up, with Fronto for its acknowledged
chief--a school pre-occupied above all things by the form; obsolete
words set in a new setting, modern words introduced into old cadences
to freshen them with a bright and delightful varnish, in a word, a
language under visible sign of decay ... yet how full of dim idea and
evanescent music--a sort of Indian summer, a season of dependency
that looked back on the splendours of Augustan yesterdays--an autumn
forest.'
"Did you ever hear such rubbish, or affectation, whichever you like to
call it? I should like to know what all that's to do with mediaeval Latin.
And then he goes on to complain of the architecture of Stanton
College.... It is, he says, base Tudor of the vilest kind. 'Practical
cookery' he calls it, 'antique sauce, sold by all chemists and grocers.' Do
you know what he means? I don't. And worst news of all, he is, would
you believe it? putting a magnificent thirteen century window into the
chapel, and he wants me to go up to London to make enquiries about
organs. He is prepared to go as far as a thousand pounds. Did you ever
hear of such a thing? Those Jesuits are encouraging him. Of course it
would just suit them if he became a priest; nothing would suit them
better; the whole property would fall into their hands. Now, what I
want you to do, my dear friend, is to go to Stanton College to-morrow,
or next day, as soon as you possibly can, and to talk to John. You must
tell him how unwise it is to spend fifteen hundred pounds in one year,
building organs and putting up windows. His intentions are excellent,
but his estate won't bear such extravagances: and everybody here thinks
he is such a miser. I want you to tell him that he should marry. Just
fancy what a terrible thing it would be if the estate passed away to
distant relatives--to those terrible cousins of ours."
"Very well, Lizzie, I will do what I can. I will go to-morrow. I have not

seen him for five years. The last time he was here I was away. I don't
think it would be a bad notion to suggest that the Jesuits are after his
money, that they are endeavouring to inveigle him into the priesthood
in order that they