“Our court shall be a little Academe.”— SHAKESPEARE.
In an ancient though not very populous1 settlement, in a retired2 corner of one of the New England States, arise the walls of a seminary of learning, which, for the convenience of a name, shall be entitled “Harley College.” This institution, though the number of its years is inconsiderable compared with the hoar antiquity3 of its European sisters, is not without some claims to reverence4 on the score of age; for an almost countless5 multitude of rivals, by many of which its reputation has been eclipsed, have sprung up since its foundation. At no time, indeed, during an existence of nearly a century, has it acquired a very extensive fame; and circumstances, which need not be particularized, have, of late years, involved it in a deeper obscurity. There are now few candidates for the degrees that the college is authorized6 to bestow7. On two of its annual “Commencement Days,” there has been a total deficiency of baccalaureates; and the lawyers and divines, on whom doctorates8 in their respective professions are gratuitously9 inflicted10, are not accustomed to consider the distinction as an honor. Yet the sons of this seminary have always maintained their full share of reputation, in whatever paths of life they trod. Few of them, perhaps, have been deep and finished scholars; but the college has supplied — what the emergencies of the country demanded — a set of men more useful in its present state, and whose deficiency in theoretical knowledge has not been found to imply a want of practical ability.
The local situation of the college, so far secluded11 from the sight and sound of the busy world, is peculiarly favorable to the moral, if not to the literary, habits of its students; and this advantage probably caused the founders12 to overlook the inconveniences that were inseparably connected with it. The humble13 edifices14 rear themselves almost at the farthest extremity15 of a narrow vale, which, winding16 through a long extent of hill-country, is wellnigh as inaccessible17, except at one point, as the Happy Valley of Abyssinia. A stream, that farther on becomes a considerable river, takes its rise at, a short distance above the college, and affords, along its wood-fringed banks, many shady retreats, where even study is pleasant, and idleness delicious. The neighborhood of the institution is not quite a solitude18, though the few habitations scarcely constitute a village. These consist principally of farm-houses, of rather an ancient date (for the settlement is much older than the college), and of a little inn, which even in that secluded spot does not fail of a moderate support. Other dwellings19 are scattered20 up and down the valley; but the difficulties of the soil will long avert21 the evils of a too dense22 population. The character of the inhabitants does not seem — as there was, perhaps, room to anticipate — to be in any degree influenced by the atmosphere of Harley College. They are a set of rough and hardy23 yeomen, much inferior, as respects refinement24, to the corresponding classes in most other parts of our country. This is the more remarkable25, as there is scarcely a family in the vicinity that has not provided, for at least one of its sons, the advantages of a “liberal education.”
Having thus described the present state of Harley College, we must proceed to speak of it as it existed about eighty years since, when its foundation was recent, and its prospects26 flattering. At the head of the institution, at this period, was a learned and Orthodox divine, whose fame was in all the churches. He was the author of several works which evinced much erudition and depth of research; and the public, perhaps, thought the more highly of his abilities from a singularity in the purposes to which he applied27 them, that added much to the curiosity of his labors28, though little to their usefulness. But, however fanciful might be his private pursuits, Dr. Melmoth, it was universally allowed, was diligent30 and successful in the arts of instruction. The young men of his charge prospered31 beneath his eye, and regarded him with an affection that was strengthened by the little foibles which occasionally excited their ridicule32. The president was assisted in the discharge of his duties by two inferior officers, chosen from the alumni of the college, who, while they imparted to others the knowledge they had already imbibed33, pursued the study of divinity under the direction of their principal. Under such auspices34 the institution grew and flourished. Having at that time but two rivals in the country (neither of them within a considerable distance), it became the general resort of the youth of the Province in which it was situated35. For several years in succession, its students amounted to nearly fifty,— a number which, relatively36 to the circumstances of the country, was very considerable.
From the exterior37 of the collegians, an accurate observer might pretty safely judge how long they had been inmates38 of those classic walls. The brown cheeks and the rustic39 dress of some would inform him that they had but recently left the plough to labor29 in a not less toilsome field; the grave look, and the intermingling of garments of a more classic cut, would distinguish those who had begun to acquire the polish of their new residence; and the air of superiority, the paler cheek, the less robust41 form, the spectacles of green, and the dress, in general of threadbare black, would designate the highest class, who were understood to have acquired nearly all the science their Alma Mater could bestow, and to be on the point of assuming their stations in the world. There were, it is true, exceptions to this general description. A few young men had found their way hither from the distant seaports43; and these were the models of fashion to their rustic companions, over whom they asserted a superiority in exterior accomplishments44, which the fresh though unpolished intellect of the sons of the forest denied them in their literary competitions. A third class, differing widely from both the former, consisted of a few young descendants of the aborigines, to whom an impracticable philanthropy was endeavoring to impart the benefits of civilization.
If this institution did not offer all the advantages of elder and prouder seminaries, its deficiencies were compensated45 to its students by the inculcation of regular habits, and of a deep and awful sense of religion, which seldom deserted46 them in their course through life. The mild and gentle rule of Dr. Melmoth, like that of a father over his children, was more destructive to vice47 than a sterner sway; and though youth is never without its follies48, they have seldom been more harmless than they were here. The students, indeed, ignorant of their own bliss49, sometimes wished to hasten the time of their entrance on the business of life; but they found, in after-years, that many of their happiest remembrances, many of the scenes which they would with least reluctance50 live over again, referred to the seat of their early studies. The exceptions to this remark were chiefly those whose vices51 had drawn52 down, even from that paternal53 government, a weighty retribution.
Dr. Melmoth, at the time when he is to be introduced to the reader, had borne the matrimonial yoke54 (and in his case it was no light burden) nearly twenty years. The blessing55 of children, however, had been denied him,— a circumstance which he was accustomed to consider as one of the sorest trials that checkered56 his pathway; for he was a man of a kind and affectionate heart, that was continually seeking objects to rest itself upon. He was inclined to believe, also, that a common offspring would have exerted a meliorating influence on the temper of Mrs. Melmoth, the character of whose domestic government often compelled him to call to mind such portions of the wisdom of antiquity as relate to the proper endurance of the shrewishness of woman. But domestic comforts, as well as comforts of every other kind, have their drawbacks; and, so long as the balance is on the side of happiness, a wise man will not murmur57. Such was the opinion of Dr. Melmoth; and with a little aid from philosophy, and more from religion, he journeyed on contentedly58 through life. When the storm was loud by the parlor59 hearth60, he had always a sure and quiet retreat in his study; and there, in his deep though not always useful labors, he soon forgot whatever of disagreeable nature pertained61 to his situation. This small and dark apartment was the only portion of the house to which, since one firmly repelled62 invasion, Mrs. Melmoth’s omnipotence63 did not extend. Here (to reverse the words of Queen Elizabeth) there was “but one master and no mistress”; and that man has little right to complain who possesses so much as one corner in the world where he may be happy or miserable64, as best suits him. In his study, then, the doctor was accustomed to spend most of the hours that were unoccupied by the duties of his station. The flight of time was here as swift as the wind, and noiseless as the snow-flake; and it was a sure proof of real happiness that night often came upon the student before he knew it was midday.
Dr. Melmoth was wearing towards age (having lived nearly sixty years), when he was called upon to assume a character to which he had as yet been a stranger. He had possessed65 in his youth a very dear friend, with whom his education had associated him, and who in his early manhood had been his chief intimate. Circumstances, however, had separated them for nearly thirty years, half of which had been spent by his friend, who was engaged in mercantile pursuits, in a foreign country. The doctor had, nevertheless, retained a warm interest in the welfare of his old associate, though the different nature of their thoughts and occupations had prevented them from corresponding. After a silence of so long continuance, therefore, he was surprised by the receipt of a letter from his friend, containing a request of a most unexpected nature.
Mr. Langton had married rather late in life; and his wedded66 bliss had been but of short continuance. Certain misfortunes in trade, when he was a Benedict of three years’ standing68, had deprived him of a large portion of his property, and compelled him, in order to save the remainder, to leave his own country for what he hoped would be but a brief residence in another. But, though he was successful in the immediate69 objects of his voyage, circumstances occurred to lengthen70 his stay far beyond the period which he had assigned to it. It was difficult so to arrange his extensive concerns that they could be safely trusted to the management of others; and, when this was effected, there was another not less powerful obstacle to his return. His affairs, under his own inspection71, were so prosperous, and his gains so considerable, that, in the words of the old ballad72, “He set his heart to gather gold”; and to this absorbing passion he sacrificed his domestic happiness. The death of his wife, about four years after his departure, undoubtedly73 contributed to give him a sort of dread74 of returning, which it required a strong effort to overcome. The welfare of his only child he knew would be little affected75 by this event; for she was under the protection of his sister, of whose tenderness he was well assured. But, after a few more years, this sister, also, was taken away by death; and then the father felt that duty imperatively76 called upon him to return. He realized, on a sudden, how much of life he had thrown away in the acquisition of what is only valuable as it contributes to the happiness of life, and how short a tune67 was left him for life’s true enjoyments77. Still, however, his mercantile habits were too deeply seated to allow him to hazard his present prosperity by any hasty measures; nor was Mr. Langton, though capable of strong affections, naturally liable to manifest them violently. It was probable, therefore, that many months might yet elapse before he would again tread the shores of his native country.
But the distant relative, in whose family, since the death of her aunt, Ellen Langton had remained, had been long at variance78 with her father, and had unwillingly79 assumed the office of her protector. Mr. Langton’s request, therefore, to Dr. Melmoth, was, that his ancient friend (one of the few friends that time had left him) would be as a father to his daughter till he could himself relieve him of the charge.
The doctor, after perusing80 the epistle of his friend, lost no time in laying it before Mrs. Melmoth, though this was, in truth, one of the very few occasions on which he had determined81 that his will should be absolute law. The lady was quick to perceive the firmness of his purpose, and would not (even had she been particularly averse82 to the proposed measure) hazard her usual authority by a fruitless opposition83. But, by long disuse, she had lost the power of consenting graciously to any wish of her husband’s.
“I see your heart is set upon this matter,” she observed; “and, in truth, I fear we cannot decently refuse Mr. Langton’s request. I see little good of such a friend, doctor, who never lets one know he is alive till he has a favor to ask.”
“Nay84; but I have received much good at his hand,” replied Dr. Melmoth; “and, if he asked more of me, it should be done with a willing heart. I remember in my youth, when my worldly goods were few and ill managed (I was a bachelor, then, dearest Sarah, with none to look after my household), how many times I have been beholden to him. And see — in his letter he speaks of presents, of the produce of the country, which he has sent both to you and me.”
“If the girl were country-bred,” continued the lady, “we might give her house-room, and no harm done. Nay, she might even be a help to me; for Esther, our maid-servant, leaves us at the mouth’s end. But I warrant she knows as little of household matters as you do yourself, doctor.”
“My friend’s sister was well grounded in the re familiari” answered her husband; “and doubtless she hath imparted somewhat of her skill to this damsel. Besides, the child is of tender years, and will profit much by your instruction and mine.”
“The child is eighteen years of age, doctor,” observed Mrs. Melmoth, “and she has cause to be thankful that she will have better instruction than yours.”
This was a proposition that Dr. Melmoth did not choose to dispute; though he perhaps thought that his long and successful experience in the education of the other sex might make him an able coadjutor to his wife in the care of Ellen Langton. He determined to journey in person to the seaport42 where his young charge resided, leaving the concerns of Harley College to the direction of the two tutors. Mrs. Melmoth, who, indeed, anticipated with pleasure the arrival of a new subject to her authority, threw no difficulties in the way of his intention. To do her justice, her preparations for his journey, and the minute instructions with which she favored him, were such as only a woman’s true affection could have suggested. The traveller met with no incidents important to this tale; and, after an absence of about a fortnight, he and Ellen alighted from their steeds (for on horseback had the journey been performed) in safety at his own door.
If pen could give an adequate idea of Ellen Langton’s loveliness, it would achieve what pencil (the pencils, at least, of the colonial artists who attempted it) never could; for, though the dark eyes might be painted, the pure and pleasant thoughts that peeped through them could only be seen and felt. But descriptions of beauty are never satisfactory. It must, therefore, be left to the imagination of the reader to conceive of something not more than mortal, nor, indeed, quite the perfection of mortality, but charming men the more, because they felt, that, lovely as she was, she was of like nature to themselves.
From the time that Ellen entered Dr. Melmoth’s habitation, the sunny days seemed brighter and the cloudy ones less gloomy, than he had ever before known them. He naturally delighted in children; and Ellen, though her years approached to womanhood, had yet much of the gayety and simple happiness, because the innocence85, of a child. She consequently became the very blessing of his life,— the rich recreation that he promised himself for hours of literary toil40. On one occasion, indeed, he even made her his companion in the sacred retreat of his study, with the purpose of entering upon a course of instruction in the learned languages. This measure, however, he found inexpedient to repeat; for Ellen, having discovered an old romance among his heavy folios, contrived86, by the charm of her sweet voice, to engage his attention therein till all more important concerns were forgotten.
With Mrs. Melmoth, Ellen was not, of course, so great a favorite as with her husband; for women cannot so readily as men, bestow upon the offspring of others those affections that nature intended for their own; and the doctor’s extraordinary partiality was anything rather than a pledge of his wife’s. But Ellen differed so far from the idea she had previously87 formed of her, as a daughter of one of the principal merchants, who were then, as now, like nobles in the land, that the stock of dislike which Mrs. Melmoth had provided was found to be totally inapplicable. The young stranger strove so hard, too (and undoubtedly it was a pleasant labor), to win her love, that she was successful to a degree of which the lady herself was not, perhaps, aware. It was soon seen that her education had not been neglected in those points which Mrs. Melmoth deemed most important. The nicer departments of cookery, after sufficient proof of her skill, were committed to her care; and the doctor’s table was now covered with delicacies88, simple indeed, but as tempting89 on account of their intrinsic excellence90 as of the small white hands that made them. By such arts as these,— which in her were no arts, but the dictates91 of an affectionate disposition,— by making herself useful where it was possible, and agreeable on all occasions, Ellen gained the love of everyone within the sphere of her influence.
But the maiden’s conquests were not confined to the members of Dr. Melmoth’s family. She had numerous admirers among those whose situation compelled them to stand afar off, and gaze upon her loveliness, as if she were a star, whose brightness they saw, but whose warmth they could not feel. These were the young men of Harley College, whose chief opportunities of beholding92 Ellen were upon the Sabbaths, when she worshipped with them in the little chapel93, which served the purposes of a church to all the families of the vicinity. There was, about this period (and the fact was undoubtedly attributable to Ellen’s influence,) a general and very evident decline in the scholarship of the college, especially in regard to the severer studies. The intellectual powers of the young men seemed to be directed chiefly to the construction of Latin and Greek verse, many copies of which, with a characteristic and classic gallantry, were strewn in the path where Ellen Langton was accustomed to walk. They, however, produced no perceptible effect; nor were the aspirations94 of another ambitious youth, who celebrated95 her perfections in Hebrew, attended with their merited success.
But there was one young man, to whom circumstances, independent of his personal advantages, afforded a superior opportunity of gaining Ellen’s favor. He was nearly related to Dr. Melmoth, on which account he received his education at Harley College, rather than at one of the English universities, to the expenses of which his fortune would have been adequate. This connection entitled him to a frequent and familiar access to the domestic hearth of the dignitary,— an advantage of which, since Ellen Langton became a member of the family, he very constantly availed himself.
Edward Walcott was certainly much superior, in most of the particulars of which a lady takes cognizance, to those of his fellow-students who had come under Ellen’s notice. He was tall; and the natural grace of his manners had been improved (an advantage which few of his associates could boast) by early intercourse96 with polished society. His features, also, were handsome, and promised to be manly97 and dignified98 when they should cease to be youthful. His character as a scholar was more than respectable, though many youthful follies, sometimes, perhaps, approaching near to vices, were laid to his charge. But his occasional derelictions from discipline were not such as to create any very serious apprehensions99 respecting his future welfare; nor were they greater than, perhaps, might be expected from a young man who possessed a considerable command of money, and who was, besides, the fine gentleman of the little community of which he was a member,— a character which generally leads its possessor into follies that he would otherwise have avoided.
With this youth Ellen Langton became familiar, and even intimate; for he was her only companion, of an age suited to her own, and the difference of sex did not occur to her as an objection. He was her constant companion on all necessary and allowable occasions, and drew upon himself, in consequence, the envy of the college.
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populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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doctorates
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| n.博士学位( doctorate的名词复数 ) | |
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gratuitously
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| 平白 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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refinement
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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prospects
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applied
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labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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diligent
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| adj.勤勉的，勤奋的 | |
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prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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imbibed
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auspices
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situated
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relatively
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exterior
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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seaport
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| n.海港，港口，港市 | |
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seaports
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| n.海港( seaport的名词复数 ) | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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compensated
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| 补偿，报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 )； 给（某人）赔偿（或赔款） | |
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deserted
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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checkered
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| adj.有方格图案的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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pertained
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| 关于( pertain的过去式和过去分词 )； 有关； 存在； 适用 | |
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repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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omnipotence
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| n.全能，万能，无限威力 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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lengthen
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| vt.使伸长，延长 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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imperatively
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| adv.命令式地 | |
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enjoyments
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| 愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 )； 令人愉快的事物； 享有； 享受 | |
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variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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perusing
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的现在分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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