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diff --git a/18247-0.txt b/18247-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a560477 --- /dev/null +++ b/18247-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16917 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Last Man, by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Last Man + +Author: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley + +Release Date: April 24, 2006 [eBook #18247] +[Most recently updated: October 29, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST MAN *** + + + + +The Last Man + +by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley + +LONDON: +HENRY COLBURN. +1826. + + +Contents + + VOL. I. + INTRODUCTION. + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + + VOL. II. + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + + VOL. III. + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + + + + +VOL. I. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +I visited Naples in the year 1818. On the 8th of December of that year, +my companion and I crossed the Bay, to visit the antiquities which are +scattered on the shores of Baiæ. The translucent and shining waters of +the calm sea covered fragments of old Roman villas, which were +interlaced by sea-weed, and received diamond tints from the chequering +of the sun-beams; the blue and pellucid element was such as Galatea +might have skimmed in her car of mother of pearl; or Cleopatra, more +fitly than the Nile, have chosen as the path of her magic ship. Though +it was winter, the atmosphere seemed more appropriate to early spring; +and its genial warmth contributed to inspire those sensations of placid +delight, which are the portion of every traveller, as he lingers, loath +to quit the tranquil bays and radiant promontories of Baiæ. + +We visited the so called Elysian Fields and Avernus; and wandered +through various ruined temples, baths, and classic spots; at length we +entered the gloomy cavern of the Cumæan Sibyl. Our Lazzeroni bore +flaring torches, which shone red, and almost dusky, in the murky +subterranean passages, whose darkness thirstily surrounding them, +seemed eager to imbibe more and more of the element of light. We passed +by a natural archway, leading to a second gallery, and enquired, if we +could not enter there also. The guides pointed to the reflection of +their torches on the water that paved it, leaving us to form our own +conclusion; but adding it was a pity, for it led to the Sibyl’s Cave. +Our curiosity and enthusiasm were excited by this circumstance, and we +insisted upon attempting the passage. As is usually the case in the +prosecution of such enterprizes, the difficulties decreased on +examination. We found, on each side of the humid pathway, “dry land for +the sole of the foot.” At length we arrived at a large, desert, dark +cavern, which the Lazzeroni assured us was the Sibyl’s Cave. We were +sufficiently disappointed—Yet we examined it with care, as if its +blank, rocky walls could still bear trace of celestial visitant. On one +side was a small opening. Whither does this lead? we asked: can we +enter here?—“_Questo poi, no,_”—said the wild looking savage, who held +the torch; “you can advance but a short distance, and nobody visits +it.” + +“Nevertheless, I will try it,” said my companion; “it may lead to the +real cavern. Shall I go alone, or will you accompany me?” + +I signified my readiness to proceed, but our guides protested against +such a measure. With great volubility, in their native Neapolitan +dialect, with which we were not very familiar, they told us that there +were spectres, that the roof would fall in, that it was too narrow to +admit us, that there was a deep hole within, filled with water, and we +might be drowned. My friend shortened the harangue, by taking the man’s +torch from him; and we proceeded alone. + +The passage, which at first scarcely admitted us, quickly grew narrower +and lower; we were almost bent double; yet still we persisted in making +our way through it. At length we entered a wider space, and the low +roof heightened; but, as we congratulated ourselves on this change, our +torch was extinguished by a current of air, and we were left in utter +darkness. The guides bring with them materials for renewing the light, +but we had none—our only resource was to return as we came. We groped +round the widened space to find the entrance, and after a time fancied +that we had succeeded. This proved however to be a second passage, +which evidently ascended. It terminated like the former; though +something approaching to a ray, we could not tell whence, shed a very +doubtful twilight in the space. By degrees, our eyes grew somewhat +accustomed to this dimness, and we perceived that there was no direct +passage leading us further; but that it was possible to climb one side +of the cavern to a low arch at top, which promised a more easy path, +from whence we now discovered that this light proceeded. With +considerable difficulty we scrambled up, and came to another passage +with still more of illumination, and this led to another ascent like +the former. + +After a succession of these, which our resolution alone permitted us to +surmount, we arrived at a wide cavern with an arched dome-like roof. An +aperture in the midst let in the light of heaven; but this was +overgrown with brambles and underwood, which acted as a veil, obscuring +the day, and giving a solemn religious hue to the apartment. It was +spacious, and nearly circular, with a raised seat of stone, about the +size of a Grecian couch, at one end. The only sign that life had been +here, was the perfect snow-white skeleton of a goat, which had probably +not perceived the opening as it grazed on the hill above, and had +fallen headlong. Ages perhaps had elapsed since this catastrophe; and +the ruin it had made above, had been repaired by the growth of +vegetation during many hundred summers. + +The rest of the furniture of the cavern consisted of piles of leaves, +fragments of bark, and a white filmy substance, resembling the inner +part of the green hood which shelters the grain of the unripe Indian +corn. We were fatigued by our struggles to attain this point, and +seated ourselves on the rocky couch, while the sounds of tinkling +sheep-bells, and shout of shepherd-boy, reached us from above. + +At length my friend, who had taken up some of the leaves strewed about, +exclaimed, “This _is_ the Sibyl’s cave; these are Sibylline leaves.” On +examination, we found that all the leaves, bark, and other substances, +were traced with written characters. What appeared to us more +astonishing, was that these writings were expressed in various +languages: some unknown to my companion, ancient Chaldee, and Egyptian +hieroglyphics, old as the Pyramids. Stranger still, some were in modern +dialects, English and Italian. We could make out little by the dim +light, but they seemed to contain prophecies, detailed relations of +events but lately passed; names, now well known, but of modern date; +and often exclamations of exultation or woe, of victory or defeat, were +traced on their thin scant pages. This was certainly the Sibyl’s Cave; +not indeed exactly as Virgil describes it; but the whole of this land +had been so convulsed by earthquake and volcano, that the change was +not wonderful, though the traces of ruin were effaced by time; and we +probably owed the preservation of these leaves, to the accident which +had closed the mouth of the cavern, and the swift-growing vegetation +which had rendered its sole opening impervious to the storm. We made a +hasty selection of such of the leaves, whose writing one at least of us +could understand; and then, laden with our treasure, we bade adieu to +the dim hypæthric cavern, and after much difficulty succeeded in +rejoining our guides. + +During our stay at Naples, we often returned to this cave, sometimes +alone, skimming the sun-lit sea, and each time added to our store. +Since that period, whenever the world’s circumstance has not +imperiously called me away, or the temper of my mind impeded such +study, I have been employed in deciphering these sacred remains. Their +meaning, wondrous and eloquent, has often repaid my toil, soothing me +in sorrow, and exciting my imagination to daring flights, through the +immensity of nature and the mind of man. For awhile my labours were not +solitary; but that time is gone; and, with the selected and matchless +companion of my toils, their dearest reward is also lost to me— + +Di mie tenere frondi altro lavoro +Credea mostrarte; e qual fero pianeta +Ne’ nvidiò insieme, o mio nobil tesoro? + + +I present the public with my latest discoveries in the slight Sibylline +pages. Scattered and unconnected as they were, I have been obliged to +add links, and model the work into a consistent form. But the main +substance rests on the truths contained in these poetic rhapsodies, and +the divine intuition which the Cumæan damsel obtained from heaven. + +I have often wondered at the subject of her verses, and at the English +dress of the Latin poet. Sometimes I have thought, that, obscure and +chaotic as they are, they owe their present form to me, their +decipherer. As if we should give to another artist, the painted +fragments which form the mosaic copy of Raphael’s Transfiguration in +St. Peter’s; he would put them together in a form, whose mode would be +fashioned by his own peculiar mind and talent. Doubtless the leaves of +the Cumæan Sibyl have suffered distortion and diminution of interest +and excellence in my hands. My only excuse for thus transforming them, +is that they were unintelligible in their pristine condition. + +My labours have cheered long hours of solitude, and taken me out of a +world, which has averted its once benignant face from me, to one +glowing with imagination and power. Will my readers ask how I could +find solace from the narration of misery and woeful change? This is one +of the mysteries of our nature, which holds full sway over me, and from +whose influence I cannot escape. I confess, that I have not been +unmoved by the development of the tale; and that I have been depressed, +nay, agonized, at some parts of the recital, which I have faithfully +transcribed from my materials. Yet such is human nature, that the +excitement of mind was dear to me, and that the imagination, painter of +tempest and earthquake, or, worse, the stormy and ruin-fraught passions +of man, softened my real sorrows and endless regrets, by clothing these +fictitious ones in that ideality, which takes the mortal sting from +pain. + +I hardly know whether this apology is necessary. For the merits of my +adaptation and translation must decide how far I have well bestowed my +time and imperfect powers, in giving form and substance to the frail +and attenuated Leaves of the Sibyl. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +I am the native of a sea-surrounded nook, a cloud-enshadowed land, +which, when the surface of the globe, with its shoreless ocean and +trackless continents, presents itself to my mind, appears only as an +inconsiderable speck in the immense whole; and yet, when balanced in +the scale of mental power, far outweighed countries of larger extent +and more numerous population. So true it is, that man’s mind alone was +the creator of all that was good or great to man, and that Nature +herself was only his first minister. England, seated far north in the +turbid sea, now visits my dreams in the semblance of a vast and +well-manned ship, which mastered the winds and rode proudly over the +waves. In my boyish days she was the universe to me. When I stood on my +native hills, and saw plain and mountain stretch out to the utmost +limits of my vision, speckled by the dwellings of my countrymen, and +subdued to fertility by their labours, the earth’s very centre was +fixed for me in that spot, and the rest of her orb was as a fable, to +have forgotten which would have cost neither my imagination nor +understanding an effort. + +My fortunes have been, from the beginning, an exemplification of the +power that mutability may possess over the varied tenor of man’s life. +With regard to myself, this came almost by inheritance. My father was +one of those men on whom nature had bestowed to prodigality the envied +gifts of wit and imagination, and then left his bark of life to be +impelled by these winds, without adding reason as the rudder, or +judgment as the pilot for the voyage. His extraction was obscure; but +circumstances brought him early into public notice, and his small +paternal property was soon dissipated in the splendid scene of fashion +and luxury in which he was an actor. During the short years of +thoughtless youth, he was adored by the high-bred triflers of the day, +nor least by the youthful sovereign, who escaped from the intrigues of +party, and the arduous duties of kingly business, to find never-failing +amusement and exhilaration of spirit in his society. My father’s +impulses, never under his own controul, perpetually led him into +difficulties from which his ingenuity alone could extricate him; and +the accumulating pile of debts of honour and of trade, which would have +bent to earth any other, was supported by him with a light spirit and +tameless hilarity; while his company was so necessary at the tables and +assemblies of the rich, that his derelictions were considered venial, +and he himself received with intoxicating flattery. + +This kind of popularity, like every other, is evanescent: and the +difficulties of every kind with which he had to contend, increased in a +frightful ratio compared with his small means of extricating himself. +At such times the king, in his enthusiasm for him, would come to his +relief, and then kindly take his friend to task; my father gave the +best promises for amendment, but his social disposition, his craving +for the usual diet of admiration, and more than all, the fiend of +gambling, which fully possessed him, made his good resolutions +transient, his promises vain. With the quick sensibility peculiar to +his temperament, he perceived his power in the brilliant circle to be +on the wane. The king married; and the haughty princess of Austria, who +became, as queen of England, the head of fashion, looked with harsh +eyes on his defects, and with contempt on the affection her royal +husband entertained for him. My father felt that his fall was near; but +so far from profiting by this last calm before the storm to save +himself, he sought to forget anticipated evil by making still greater +sacrifices to the deity of pleasure, deceitful and cruel arbiter of his +destiny. + +The king, who was a man of excellent dispositions, but easily led, had +now become a willing disciple of his imperious consort. He was induced +to look with extreme disapprobation, and at last with distaste, on my +father’s imprudence and follies. It is true that his presence +dissipated these clouds; his warm-hearted frankness, brilliant sallies, +and confiding demeanour were irresistible: it was only when at a +distance, while still renewed tales of his errors were poured into his +royal friend’s ear, that he lost his influence. The queen’s dextrous +management was employed to prolong these absences, and gather together +accusations. At length the king was brought to see in him a source of +perpetual disquiet, knowing that he should pay for the short-lived +pleasure of his society by tedious homilies, and more painful +narrations of excesses, the truth of which he could not disprove. The +result was, that he would make one more attempt to reclaim him, and in +case of ill success, cast him off for ever. + +Such a scene must have been one of deepest interest and high-wrought +passion. A powerful king, conspicuous for a goodness which had +heretofore made him meek, and now lofty in his admonitions, with +alternate entreaty and reproof, besought his friend to attend to his +real interests, resolutely to avoid those fascinations which in fact +were fast deserting him, and to spend his great powers on a worthy +field, in which he, his sovereign, would be his prop, his stay, and his +pioneer. My father felt this kindness; for a moment ambitious dreams +floated before him; and he thought that it would be well to exchange +his present pursuits for nobler duties. With sincerity and fervour he +gave the required promise: as a pledge of continued favour, he received +from his royal master a sum of money to defray pressing debts, and +enable him to enter under good auspices his new career. That very +night, while yet full of gratitude and good resolves, this whole sum, +and its amount doubled, was lost at the gaming-table. In his desire to +repair his first losses, my father risked double stakes, and thus +incurred a debt of honour he was wholly unable to pay. Ashamed to apply +again to the king, he turned his back upon London, its false delights +and clinging miseries; and, with poverty for his sole companion, buried +himself in solitude among the hills and lakes of Cumberland. His wit, +his bon mots, the record of his personal attractions, fascinating +manners, and social talents, were long remembered and repeated from +mouth to mouth. Ask where now was this favourite of fashion, this +companion of the noble, this excelling beam, which gilt with alien +splendour the assemblies of the courtly and the gay—you heard that he +was under a cloud, a lost man; not one thought it belonged to him to +repay pleasure by real services, or that his long reign of brilliant +wit deserved a pension on retiring. The king lamented his absence; he +loved to repeat his sayings, relate the adventures they had had +together, and exalt his talents—but here ended his reminiscence. + +Meanwhile my father, forgotten, could not forget. He repined for the +loss of what was more necessary to him than air or food—the excitements +of pleasure, the admiration of the noble, the luxurious and polished +living of the great. A nervous fever was the consequence; during which +he was nursed by the daughter of a poor cottager, under whose roof he +lodged. She was lovely, gentle, and, above all, kind to him; nor can it +afford astonishment, that the late idol of high-bred beauty should, +even in a fallen state, appear a being of an elevated and wondrous +nature to the lowly cottage-girl. The attachment between them led to +the ill-fated marriage, of which I was the offspring. Notwithstanding +the tenderness and sweetness of my mother, her husband still deplored +his degraded state. Unaccustomed to industry, he knew not in what way +to contribute to the support of his increasing family. Sometimes he +thought of applying to the king; pride and shame for a while withheld +him; and, before his necessities became so imperious as to compel him +to some kind of exertion, he died. For one brief interval before this +catastrophe, he looked forward to the future, and contemplated with +anguish the desolate situation in which his wife and children would be +left. His last effort was a letter to the king, full of touching +eloquence, and of occasional flashes of that brilliant spirit which was +an integral part of him. He bequeathed his widow and orphans to the +friendship of his royal master, and felt satisfied that, by this means, +their prosperity was better assured in his death than in his life. This +letter was enclosed to the care of a nobleman, who, he did not doubt, +would perform the last and inexpensive office of placing it in the +king’s own hand. + +He died in debt, and his little property was seized immediately by his +creditors. My mother, pennyless and burthened with two children, waited +week after week, and month after month, in sickening expectation of a +reply, which never came. She had no experience beyond her father’s +cottage; and the mansion of the lord of the manor was the chiefest type +of grandeur she could conceive. During my father’s life, she had been +made familiar with the name of royalty and the courtly circle; but such +things, ill according with her personal experience, appeared, after the +loss of him who gave substance and reality to them, vague and +fantastical. If, under any circumstances, she could have acquired +sufficient courage to address the noble persons mentioned by her +husband, the ill success of his own application caused her to banish +the idea. She saw therefore no escape from dire penury: perpetual care, +joined to sorrow for the loss of the wondrous being, whom she continued +to contemplate with ardent admiration, hard labour, and naturally +delicate health, at length released her from the sad continuity of want +and misery. + +The condition of her orphan children was peculiarly desolate. Her own +father had been an emigrant from another part of the country, and had +died long since: they had no one relation to take them by the hand; +they were outcasts, paupers, unfriended beings, to whom the most scanty +pittance was a matter of favour, and who were treated merely as +children of peasants, yet poorer than the poorest, who, dying, had left +them, a thankless bequest, to the close-handed charity of the land. + +I, the elder of the two, was five years old when my mother died. A +remembrance of the discourses of my parents, and the communications +which my mother endeavoured to impress upon me concerning my father’s +friends, in slight hope that I might one day derive benefit from the +knowledge, floated like an indistinct dream through my brain. I +conceived that I was different and superior to my protectors and +companions, but I knew not how or wherefore. The sense of injury, +associated with the name of king and noble, clung to me; but I could +draw no conclusions from such feelings, to serve as a guide to action. +My first real knowledge of myself was as an unprotected orphan among +the valleys and fells of Cumberland. I was in the service of a farmer; +and with crook in hand, my dog at my side, I shepherded a numerous +flock on the near uplands. I cannot say much in praise of such a life; +and its pains far exceeded its pleasures. There was freedom in it, a +companionship with nature, and a reckless loneliness; but these, +romantic as they were, did not accord with the love of action and +desire of human sympathy, characteristic of youth. Neither the care of +my flock, nor the change of seasons, were sufficient to tame my eager +spirit; my out-door life and unemployed time were the temptations that +led me early into lawless habits. I associated with others friendless +like myself; I formed them into a band, I was their chief and captain. +All shepherd-boys alike, while our flocks were spread over the +pastures, we schemed and executed many a mischievous prank, which drew +on us the anger and revenge of the rustics. I was the leader and +protector of my comrades, and as I became distinguished among them, +their misdeeds were usually visited upon me. But while I endured +punishment and pain in their defence with the spirit of an hero, I +claimed as my reward their praise and obedience. + +In such a school my disposition became rugged, but firm. The appetite +for admiration and small capacity for self-controul which I inherited +from my father, nursed by adversity, made me daring and reckless. I was +rough as the elements, and unlearned as the animals I tended. I often +compared myself to them, and finding that my chief superiority +consisted in power, I soon persuaded myself that it was in power only +that I was inferior to the chiefest potentates of the earth. Thus +untaught in refined philosophy, and pursued by a restless feeling of +degradation from my true station in society, I wandered among the hills +of civilized England as uncouth a savage as the wolf-bred founder of +old Rome. I owned but one law, it was that of the strongest, and my +greatest deed of virtue was never to submit. + +Yet let me a little retract from this sentence I have passed on myself. +My mother, when dying, had, in addition to her other half-forgotten and +misapplied lessons, committed, with solemn exhortation, her other child +to my fraternal guardianship; and this one duty I performed to the best +of my ability, with all the zeal and affection of which my nature was +capable. My sister was three years younger than myself; I had nursed +her as an infant, and when the difference of our sexes, by giving us +various occupations, in a great measure divided us, yet she continued +to be the object of my careful love. Orphans, in the fullest sense of +the term, we were poorest among the poor, and despised among the +unhonoured. If my daring and courage obtained for me a kind of +respectful aversion, her youth and sex, since they did not excite +tenderness, by proving her to be weak, were the causes of numberless +mortifications to her; and her own disposition was not so constituted +as to diminish the evil effects of her lowly station. + +She was a singular being, and, like me, inherited much of the peculiar +disposition of our father. Her countenance was all expression; her eyes +were not dark, but impenetrably deep; you seemed to discover space +after space in their intellectual glance, and to feel that the soul +which was their soul, comprehended an universe of thought in its ken. +She was pale and fair, and her golden hair clustered on her temples, +contrasting its rich hue with the living marble beneath. Her coarse +peasant-dress, little consonant apparently with the refinement of +feeling which her face expressed, yet in a strange manner accorded with +it. She was like one of Guido’s saints, with heaven in her heart and in +her look, so that when you saw her you only thought of that within, and +costume and even feature were secondary to the mind that beamed in her +countenance. + +Yet though lovely and full of noble feeling, my poor Perdita (for this +was the fanciful name my sister had received from her dying parent), +was not altogether saintly in her disposition. Her manners were cold +and repulsive. If she had been nurtured by those who had regarded her +with affection, she might have been different; but unloved and +neglected, she repaid want of kindness with distrust and silence. She +was submissive to those who held authority over her, but a perpetual +cloud dwelt on her brow; she looked as if she expected enmity from +every one who approached her, and her actions were instigated by the +same feeling. All the time she could command she spent in solitude. She +would ramble to the most unfrequented places, and scale dangerous +heights, that in those unvisited spots she might wrap herself in +loneliness. Often she passed whole hours walking up and down the paths +of the woods; she wove garlands of flowers and ivy, or watched the +flickering of the shadows and glancing of the leaves; sometimes she sat +beside a stream, and as her thoughts paused, threw flowers or pebbles +into the waters, watching how those swam and these sank; or she would +set afloat boats formed of bark of trees or leaves, with a feather for +a sail, and intensely watch the navigation of her craft among the +rapids and shallows of the brook. Meanwhile her active fancy wove a +thousand combinations; she dreamt “of moving accidents by flood and +field”—she lost herself delightedly in these self-created wanderings, +and returned with unwilling spirit to the dull detail of common life. +Poverty was the cloud that veiled her excellencies, and all that was +good in her seemed about to perish from want of the genial dew of +affection. She had not even the same advantage as I in the recollection +of her parents; she clung to me, her brother, as her only friend, but +her alliance with me completed the distaste that her protectors felt +for her; and every error was magnified by them into crimes. If she had +been bred in that sphere of life to which by inheritance the delicate +framework of her mind and person was adapted, she would have been the +object almost of adoration, for her virtues were as eminent as her +defects. All the genius that ennobled the blood of her father +illustrated hers; a generous tide flowed in her veins; artifice, envy, +or meanness, were at the antipodes of her nature; her countenance, when +enlightened by amiable feeling, might have belonged to a queen of +nations; her eyes were bright; her look fearless. + +Although by our situation and dispositions we were almost equally cut +off from the usual forms of social intercourse, we formed a strong +contrast to each other. I always required the stimulants of +companionship and applause. Perdita was all-sufficient to herself. +Notwithstanding my lawless habits, my disposition was sociable, hers +recluse. My life was spent among tangible realities, hers was a dream. +I might be said even to love my enemies, since by exciting me they in a +sort bestowed happiness upon me; Perdita almost disliked her friends, +for they interfered with her visionary moods. All my feelings, even of +exultation and triumph, were changed to bitterness, if unparticipated; +Perdita, even in joy, fled to loneliness, and could go on from day to +day, neither expressing her emotions, nor seeking a fellow-feeling in +another mind. Nay, she could love and dwell with tenderness on the look +and voice of her friend, while her demeanour expressed the coldest +reserve. A sensation with her became a sentiment, and she never spoke +until she had mingled her perceptions of outward objects with others +which were the native growth of her own mind. She was like a fruitful +soil that imbibed the airs and dews of heaven, and gave them forth +again to light in loveliest forms of fruits and flowers; but then she +was often dark and rugged as that soil, raked up, and new sown with +unseen seed. + +She dwelt in a cottage whose trim grass-plat sloped down to the waters +of the lake of Ulswater; a beech wood stretched up the hill behind, and +a purling brook gently falling from the acclivity ran through +poplar-shaded banks into the lake. I lived with a farmer whose house +was built higher up among the hills: a dark crag rose behind it, and, +exposed to the north, the snow lay in its crevices the summer through. +Before dawn I led my flock to the sheep-walks, and guarded them through +the day. It was a life of toil; for rain and cold were more frequent +than sunshine; but it was my pride to contemn the elements. My trusty +dog watched the sheep as I slipped away to the rendezvous of my +comrades, and thence to the accomplishment of our schemes. At noon we +met again, and we threw away in contempt our peasant fare, as we built +our fire-place and kindled the cheering blaze destined to cook the game +stolen from the neighbouring preserves. Then came the tale of +hair-breadth escapes, combats with dogs, ambush and flight, as +gipsey-like we encompassed our pot. The search after a stray lamb, or +the devices by which we elude or endeavoured to elude punishment, +filled up the hours of afternoon; in the evening my flock went to its +fold, and I to my sister. + +It was seldom indeed that we escaped, to use an old-fashioned phrase, +scot free. Our dainty fare was often exchanged for blows and +imprisonment. Once, when thirteen years of age, I was sent for a month +to the county jail. I came out, my morals unimproved, my hatred to my +oppressors encreased tenfold. Bread and water did not tame my blood, +nor solitary confinement inspire me with gentle thoughts. I was angry, +impatient, miserable; my only happy hours were those during which I +devised schemes of revenge; these were perfected in my forced solitude, +so that during the whole of the following season, and I was freed early +in September, I never failed to provide excellent and plenteous fare +for myself and my comrades. This was a glorious winter. The sharp frost +and heavy snows tamed the animals, and kept the country gentlemen by +their firesides; we got more game than we could eat, and my faithful +dog grew sleek upon our refuse. + +Thus years passed on; and years only added fresh love of freedom, and +contempt for all that was not as wild and rude as myself. At the age of +sixteen I had shot up in appearance to man’s estate; I was tall and +athletic; I was practised to feats of strength, and inured to the +inclemency of the elements. My skin was embrowned by the sun; my step +was firm with conscious power. I feared no man, and loved none. In +after life I looked back with wonder to what I then was; how utterly +worthless I should have become if I had pursued my lawless career. My +life was like that of an animal, and my mind was in danger of +degenerating into that which informs brute nature. Until now, my savage +habits had done me no radical mischief; my physical powers had grown up +and flourished under their influence, and my mind, undergoing the same +discipline, was imbued with all the hardy virtues. But now my boasted +independence was daily instigating me to acts of tyranny, and freedom +was becoming licentiousness. I stood on the brink of manhood; passions, +strong as the trees of a forest, had already taken root within me, and +were about to shadow with their noxious overgrowth, my path of life. + +I panted for enterprises beyond my childish exploits, and formed +distempered dreams of future action. I avoided my ancient comrades, and +I soon lost them. They arrived at the age when they were sent to fulfil +their destined situations in life; while I, an outcast, with none to +lead or drive me forward, paused. The old began to point at me as an +example, the young to wonder at me as a being distinct from themselves; +I hated them, and began, last and worst degradation, to hate myself. I +clung to my ferocious habits, yet half despised them; I continued my +war against civilization, and yet entertained a wish to belong to it. + +I revolved again and again all that I remembered my mother to have told +me of my father’s former life; I contemplated the few relics I +possessed belonging to him, which spoke of greater refinement than +could be found among the mountain cottages; but nothing in all this +served as a guide to lead me to another and pleasanter way of life. My +father had been connected with nobles, but all I knew of such +connection was subsequent neglect. The name of the king,—he to whom my +dying father had addressed his latest prayers, and who had barbarously +slighted them, was associated only with the ideas of unkindness, +injustice, and consequent resentment. I was born for something greater +than I was—and greater I would become; but greatness, at least to my +distorted perceptions, was no necessary associate of goodness, and my +wild thoughts were unchecked by moral considerations when they rioted +in dreams of distinction. Thus I stood upon a pinnacle, a sea of evil +rolled at my feet; I was about to precipitate myself into it, and rush +like a torrent over all obstructions to the object of my wishes— when a +stranger influence came over the current of my fortunes, and changed +their boisterous course to what was in comparison like the gentle +meanderings of a meadow-encircling streamlet. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +I lived far from the busy haunts of men, and the rumour of wars or +political changes came worn to a mere sound, to our mountain abodes. +England had been the scene of momentous struggles, during my early +boyhood. In the year 2073, the last of its kings, the ancient friend of +my father, had abdicated in compliance with the gentle force of the +remonstrances of his subjects, and a republic was instituted. Large +estates were secured to the dethroned monarch and his family; he +received the title of Earl of Windsor, and Windsor Castle, an ancient +royalty, with its wide demesnes were a part of his allotted wealth. He +died soon after, leaving two children, a son and a daughter. + +The ex-queen, a princess of the house of Austria, had long impelled her +husband to withstand the necessity of the times. She was haughty and +fearless; she cherished a love of power, and a bitter contempt for him +who had despoiled himself of a kingdom. For her children’s sake alone +she consented to remain, shorn of regality, a member of the English +republic. When she became a widow, she turned all her thoughts to the +educating her son Adrian, second Earl of Windsor, so as to accomplish +her ambitious ends; and with his mother’s milk he imbibed, and was +intended to grow up in the steady purpose of re-acquiring his lost +crown. Adrian was now fifteen years of age. He was addicted to study, +and imbued beyond his years with learning and talent: report said that +he had already begun to thwart his mother’s views, and to entertain +republican principles. However this might be, the haughty Countess +entrusted none with the secrets of her family-tuition. Adrian was bred +up in solitude, and kept apart from the natural companions of his age +and rank. Some unknown circumstance now induced his mother to send him +from under her immediate tutelage; and we heard that he was about to +visit Cumberland. A thousand tales were rife, explanatory of the +Countess of Windsor’s conduct; none true probably; but each day it +became more certain that we should have the noble scion of the late +regal house of England among us. + +There was a large estate with a mansion attached to it, belonging to +this family, at Ulswater. A large park was one of its appendages, laid +out with great taste, and plentifully stocked with game. I had often +made depredations on these preserves; and the neglected state of the +property facilitated my incursions. When it was decided that the young +Earl of Windsor should visit Cumberland, workmen arrived to put the +house and grounds in order for his reception. The apartments were +restored to their pristine splendour, and the park, all disrepairs +restored, was guarded with unusual care. + +I was beyond measure disturbed by this intelligence. It roused all my +dormant recollections, my suspended sentiments of injury, and gave rise +to the new one of revenge. I could no longer attend to my occupations; +all my plans and devices were forgotten; I seemed about to begin life +anew, and that under no good auspices. The tug of war, I thought, was +now to begin. He would come triumphantly to the district to which my +parent had fled broken-hearted; he would find the ill-fated offspring, +bequeathed with such vain confidence to his royal father, miserable +paupers. That he should know of our existence, and treat us, near at +hand, with the same contumely which his father had practised in +distance and absence, appeared to me the certain consequence of all +that had gone before. Thus then I should meet this titled stripling—the +son of my father’s friend. He would be hedged in by servants; nobles, +and the sons of nobles, were his companions; all England rang with his +name; and his coming, like a thunderstorm, was heard from far: while I, +unlettered and unfashioned, should, if I came in contact with him, in +the judgment of his courtly followers, bear evidence in my very person +to the propriety of that ingratitude which had made me the degraded +being I appeared. + +With my mind fully occupied by these ideas, I might be said as if +fascinated, to haunt the destined abode of the young Earl. I watched +the progress of the improvements, and stood by the unlading waggons, as +various articles of luxury, brought from London, were taken forth and +conveyed into the mansion. It was part of the Ex-Queen’s plan, to +surround her son with princely magnificence. I beheld rich carpets and +silken hangings, ornaments of gold, richly embossed metals, emblazoned +furniture, and all the appendages of high rank arranged, so that +nothing but what was regal in splendour should reach the eye of one of +royal descent. I looked on these; I turned my gaze to my own mean +dress.—Whence sprung this difference? Whence but from ingratitude, from +falsehood, from a dereliction on the part of the prince’s father, of +all noble sympathy and generous feeling. Doubtless, he also, whose +blood received a mingling tide from his proud mother—he, the +acknowledged focus of the kingdom’s wealth and nobility, had been +taught to repeat my father’s name with disdain, and to scoff at my just +claims to protection. I strove to think that all this grandeur was but +more glaring infamy, and that, by planting his gold-enwoven flag beside +my tarnished and tattered banner, he proclaimed not his superiority, +but his debasement. Yet I envied him. His stud of beautiful horses, his +arms of costly workmanship, the praise that attended him, the +adoration, ready servitor, high place and high esteem,—I considered +them as forcibly wrenched from me, and envied them all with novel and +tormenting bitterness. + +To crown my vexation of spirit, Perdita, the visionary Perdita, seemed +to awake to real life with transport, when she told me that the Earl of +Windsor was about to arrive. + +“And this pleases you?” I observed, moodily. + +“Indeed it does, Lionel,” she replied; “I quite long to see him; he is +the descendant of our kings, the first noble of the land: every one +admires and loves him, and they say that his rank is his least merit; +he is generous, brave, and affable.” + +“You have learnt a pretty lesson, Perdita,” said I, “and repeat it so +literally, that you forget the while the proofs we have of the Earl’s +virtues; his generosity to us is manifest in our plenty, his bravery in +the protection he affords us, his affability in the notice he takes of +us. His rank his least merit, do you say? Why, all his virtues are +derived from his station only; because he is rich, he is called +generous; because he is powerful, brave; because he is well served, he +is affable. Let them call him so, let all England believe him to be +thus—we know him—he is our enemy—our penurious, dastardly, arrogant +enemy; if he were gifted with one particle of the virtues you call his, +he would do justly by us, if it were only to shew, that if he must +strike, it should not be a fallen foe. His father injured my father—his +father, unassailable on his throne, dared despise him who only stooped +beneath himself, when he deigned to associate with the royal ingrate. +We, descendants from the one and the other, must be enemies also. He +shall find that I can feel my injuries; he shall learn to dread my +revenge!” + +A few days after he arrived. Every inhabitant of the most miserable +cottage, went to swell the stream of population that poured forth to +meet him: even Perdita, in spite of my late philippic, crept near the +highway, to behold this idol of all hearts. I, driven half mad, as I +met party after party of the country people, in their holiday best, +descending the hills, escaped to their cloud-veiled summits, and +looking on the sterile rocks about me, exclaimed—“_They_ do not cry, +long live the Earl!” Nor, when night came, accompanied by drizzling +rain and cold, would I return home; for I knew that each cottage rang +with the praises of Adrian; as I felt my limbs grow numb and chill, my +pain served as food for my insane aversion; nay, I almost triumphed in +it, since it seemed to afford me reason and excuse for my hatred of my +unheeding adversary. All was attributed to him, for I confounded so +entirely the idea of father and son, that I forgot that the latter +might be wholly unconscious of his parent’s neglect of us; and as I +struck my aching head with my hand, I cried: “He shall hear of this! I +will be revenged! I will not suffer like a spaniel! He shall know, +beggar and friendless as I am, that I will not tamely submit to +injury!” Each day, each hour added to these exaggerated wrongs. His +praises were so many adder’s stings infixed in my vulnerable breast. If +I saw him at a distance, riding a beautiful horse, my blood boiled with +rage; the air seemed poisoned by his presence, and my very native +English was changed to a vile jargon, since every phrase I heard was +coupled with his name and honour. I panted to relieve this painful +heart-burning by some misdeed that should rouse him to a sense of my +antipathy. It was the height of his offending, that he should occasion +in me such intolerable sensations, and not deign himself to afford any +demonstration that he was aware that I even lived to feel them. + +It soon became known that Adrian took great delight in his park and +preserves. He never sported, but spent hours in watching the tribes of +lovely and almost tame animals with which it was stocked, and ordered +that greater care should be taken of them than ever. Here was an +opening for my plans of offence, and I made use of it with all the +brute impetuosity I derived from my active mode of life. I proposed the +enterprize of poaching on his demesne to my few remaining comrades, who +were the most determined and lawless of the crew; but they all shrunk +from the peril; so I was left to achieve my revenge myself. At first my +exploits were unperceived; I increased in daring; footsteps on the dewy +grass, torn boughs, and marks of slaughter, at length betrayed me to +the game-keepers. They kept better watch; I was taken, and sent to +prison. I entered its gloomy walls in a fit of triumphant extasy: “He +feels me now,” I cried, “and shall, again and again!”—I passed but one +day in confinement; in the evening I was liberated, as I was told, by +the order of the Earl himself. This news precipitated me from my +self-raised pinnacle of honour. He despises me, I thought; but he shall +learn that I despise him, and hold in equal contempt his punishments +and his clemency. On the second night after my release, I was again +taken by the gamekeepers—again imprisoned, and again released; and +again, such was my pertinacity, did the fourth night find me in the +forbidden park. The gamekeepers were more enraged than their lord by my +obstinacy. They had received orders that if I were again taken, I +should be brought to the Earl; and his lenity made them expect a +conclusion which they considered ill befitting my crime. One of them, +who had been from the first the leader among those who had seized me, +resolved to satisfy his own resentment, before he made me over to the +higher powers. + +The late setting of the moon, and the extreme caution I was obliged to +use in this my third expedition, consumed so much time, that something +like a qualm of fear came over me when I perceived dark night yield to +twilight. I crept along by the fern, on my hands and knees, seeking the +shadowy coverts of the underwood, while the birds awoke with unwelcome +song above, and the fresh morning wind, playing among the boughs, made +me suspect a footfall at each turn. My heart beat quick as I approached +the palings; my hand was on one of them, a leap would take me to the +other side, when two keepers sprang from an ambush upon me: one knocked +me down, and proceeded to inflict a severe horse-whipping. I started +up—a knife was in my grasp; I made a plunge at his raised right arm, +and inflicted a deep, wide wound in his hand. The rage and yells of the +wounded man, the howling execrations of his comrade, which I answered +with equal bitterness and fury, echoed through the dell; morning broke +more and more, ill accordant in its celestial beauty with our brute and +noisy contest. I and my enemy were still struggling, when the wounded +man exclaimed, “The Earl!” I sprang out of the herculean hold of the +keeper, panting from my exertions; I cast furious glances on my +persecutors, and placing myself with my back to a tree, resolved to +defend myself to the last. My garments were torn, and they, as well as +my hands, were stained with the blood of the man I had wounded; one +hand grasped the dead birds—my hard-earned prey, the other held the +knife; my hair was matted; my face besmeared with the same guilty signs +that bore witness against me on the dripping instrument I clenched; my +whole appearance was haggard and squalid. Tall and muscular as I was in +form, I must have looked like, what indeed I was, the merest ruffian +that ever trod the earth. + +The name of the Earl startled me, and caused all the indignant blood +that warmed my heart to rush into my cheeks; I had never seen him +before; I figured to myself a haughty, assuming youth, who would take +me to task, if he deigned to speak to me, with all the arrogance of +superiority. My reply was ready; a reproach I deemed calculated to +sting his very heart. He came up the while; and his appearance blew +aside, with gentle western breath, my cloudy wrath: a tall, slim, fair +boy, with a physiognomy expressive of the excess of sensibility and +refinement stood before me; the morning sunbeams tinged with gold his +silken hair, and spread light and glory over his beaming countenance. +“How is this?” he cried. The men eagerly began their defence; he put +them aside, saying, “Two of you at once on a mere lad— for shame!” He +came up to me: “Verney,” he cried, “Lionel Verney, do we meet thus for +the first time? We were born to be friends to each other; and though +ill fortune has divided us, will you not acknowledge the hereditary +bond of friendship which I trust will hereafter unite us?” + +As he spoke, his earnest eyes, fixed on me, seemed to read my very +soul: my heart, my savage revengeful heart, felt the influence of sweet +benignity sink upon it; while his thrilling voice, like sweetest +melody, awoke a mute echo within me, stirring to its depths the +life-blood in my frame. I desired to reply, to acknowledge his +goodness, accept his proffered friendship; but words, fitting words, +were not afforded to the rough mountaineer; I would have held out my +hand, but its guilty stain restrained me. Adrian took pity on my +faltering mien: “Come with me,” he said, “I have much to say to you; +come home with me—you know who I am?” + +“Yes,” I exclaimed, “I do believe that I now know you, and that you +will pardon my mistakes—my crime.” + +Adrian smiled gently; and after giving his orders to the gamekeepers, +he came up to me; putting his arm in mine, we walked together to the +mansion. + +It was not his rank—after all that I have said, surely it will not be +suspected that it was Adrian’s rank, that, from the first, subdued my +heart of hearts, and laid my entire spirit prostrate before him. Nor +was it I alone who felt thus intimately his perfections. His +sensibility and courtesy fascinated every one. His vivacity, +intelligence, and active spirit of benevolence, completed the conquest. +Even at this early age, he was deep read and imbued with the spirit of +high philosophy. This spirit gave a tone of irresistible persuasion to +his intercourse with others, so that he seemed like an inspired +musician, who struck, with unerring skill, the “lyre of mind,” and +produced thence divine harmony. In person, he hardly appeared of this +world; his slight frame was overinformed by the soul that dwelt within; +he was all mind; “Man but a rush against” his breast, and it would have +conquered his strength; but the might of his smile would have tamed an +hungry lion, or caused a legion of armed men to lay their weapons at +his feet. + +I spent the day with him. At first he did not recur to the past, or +indeed to any personal occurrences. He wished probably to inspire me +with confidence, and give me time to gather together my scattered +thoughts. He talked of general subjects, and gave me ideas I had never +before conceived. We sat in his library, and he spoke of the old Greek +sages, and of the power which they had acquired over the minds of men, +through the force of love and wisdom only. The room was decorated with +the busts of many of them, and he described their characters to me. As +he spoke, I felt subject to him; and all my boasted pride and strength +were subdued by the honeyed accents of this blue-eyed boy. The trim and +paled demesne of civilization, which I had before regarded from my wild +jungle as inaccessible, had its wicket opened by him; I stepped within, +and felt, as I entered, that I trod my native soil. + +As evening came on, he reverted to the past. “I have a tale to relate,” +he said, “and much explanation to give concerning the past; perhaps you +can assist me to curtail it. Do you remember your father? I had never +the happiness of seeing him, but his name is one of my earliest +recollections: he stands written in my mind’s tablets as the type of +all that was gallant, amiable, and fascinating in man. His wit was not +more conspicuous than the overflowing goodness of his heart, which he +poured in such full measure on his friends, as to leave, alas! small +remnant for himself.” + +Encouraged by this encomium, I proceeded, in answer to his inquiries, +to relate what I remembered of my parent; and he gave an account of +those circumstances which had brought about a neglect of my father’s +testamentary letter. When, in after times, Adrian’s father, then king +of England, felt his situation become more perilous, his line of +conduct more embarrassed, again and again he wished for his early +friend, who might stand a mound against the impetuous anger of his +queen, a mediator between him and the parliament. From the time that he +had quitted London, on the fatal night of his defeat at the +gaming-table, the king had received no tidings concerning him; and +when, after the lapse of years, he exerted himself to discover him, +every trace was lost. With fonder regret than ever, he clung to his +memory; and gave it in charge to his son, if ever he should meet this +valued friend, in his name to bestow every succour, and to assure him +that, to the last, his attachment survived separation and silence. + +A short time before Adrian’s visit to Cumberland, the heir of the +nobleman to whom my father had confided his last appeal to his royal +master, put this letter, its seal unbroken, into the young Earl’s +hands. It had been found cast aside with a mass of papers of old date, +and accident alone brought it to light. Adrian read it with deep +interest; and found there that living spirit of genius and wit he had +so often heard commemorated. He discovered the name of the spot whither +my father had retreated, and where he died; he learnt the existence of +his orphan children; and during the short interval between his arrival +at Ulswater and our meeting in the park, he had been occupied in making +inquiries concerning us, and arranging a variety of plans for our +benefit, preliminary to his introducing himself to our notice. + +The mode in which he spoke of my father was gratifying to my vanity; +the veil which he delicately cast over his benevolence, in alledging a +duteous fulfilment of the king’s latest will, was soothing to my pride. +Other feelings, less ambiguous, were called into play by his +conciliating manner and the generous warmth of his expressions, respect +rarely before experienced, admiration, and love—he had touched my rocky +heart with his magic power, and the stream of affection gushed forth, +imperishable and pure. In the evening we parted; he pressed my hand: +“We shall meet again; come to me to-morrow.” I clasped that kind hand; +I tried to answer; a fervent “God bless you!” was all my ignorance +could frame of speech, and I darted away, oppressed by my new emotions. + +I could not rest. I sought the hills; a west wind swept them, and the +stars glittered above. I ran on, careless of outward objects, but +trying to master the struggling spirit within me by means of bodily +fatigue. “This,” I thought, “is power! Not to be strong of limb, hard +of heart, ferocious, and daring; but kind, compassionate and +soft.”—Stopping short, I clasped my hands, and with the fervour of a +new proselyte, cried, “Doubt me not, Adrian, I also will become wise +and good!” and then quite overcome, I wept aloud. + +As this gust of passion passed from me, I felt more composed. I lay on +the ground, and giving the reins to my thoughts, repassed in my mind my +former life; and began, fold by fold, to unwind the many errors of my +heart, and to discover how brutish, savage, and worthless I had +hitherto been. I could not however at that time feel remorse, for +methought I was born anew; my soul threw off the burthen of past sin, +to commence a new career in innocence and love. Nothing harsh or rough +remained to jar with the soft feelings which the transactions of the +day had inspired; I was as a child lisping its devotions after its +mother, and my plastic soul was remoulded by a master hand, which I +neither desired nor was able to resist. + +This was the first commencement of my friendship with Adrian, and I +must commemorate this day as the most fortunate of my life. I now began +to be human. I was admitted within that sacred boundary which divides +the intellectual and moral nature of man from that which characterizes +animals. My best feelings were called into play to give fitting +responses to the generosity, wisdom, and amenity of my new friend. He, +with a noble goodness all his own, took infinite delight in bestowing +to prodigality the treasures of his mind and fortune on the +long-neglected son of his father’s friend, the offspring of that gifted +being whose excellencies and talents he had heard commemorated from +infancy. + +After his abdication the late king had retreated from the sphere of +politics, yet his domestic circle afforded him small content. The +ex-queen had none of the virtues of domestic life, and those of courage +and daring which she possessed were rendered null by the secession of +her husband: she despised him, and did not care to conceal her +sentiments. The king had, in compliance with her exactions, cast off +his old friends, but he had acquired no new ones under her guidance. In +this dearth of sympathy, he had recourse to his almost infant son; and +the early development of talent and sensibility rendered Adrian no +unfitting depository of his father’s confidence. He was never weary of +listening to the latter’s often repeated accounts of old times, in +which my father had played a distinguished part; his keen remarks were +repeated to the boy, and remembered by him; his wit, his fascinations, +his very faults were hallowed by the regret of affection; his loss was +sincerely deplored. Even the queen’s dislike of the favourite was +ineffectual to deprive him of his son’s admiration: it was bitter, +sarcastic, contemptuous—but as she bestowed her heavy censure alike on +his virtues as his errors, on his devoted friendship and his +ill-bestowed loves, on his disinterestedness and his prodigality, on +his pre-possessing grace of manner, and the facility with which he +yielded to temptation, her double shot proved too heavy, and fell short +of the mark. Nor did her angry dislike prevent Adrian from imaging my +father, as he had said, the type of all that was gallant, amiable, and +fascinating in man. It was not strange therefore, that when he heard of +the existence of the offspring of this celebrated person, he should +have formed the plan of bestowing on them all the advantages his rank +made him rich to afford. When he found me a vagabond shepherd of the +hills, a poacher, an unlettered savage, still his kindness did not +fail. In addition to the opinion he entertained that his father was to +a degree culpable of neglect towards us, and that he was bound to every +possible reparation, he was pleased to say that under all my ruggedness +there glimmered forth an elevation of spirit, which could be +distinguished from mere animal courage, and that I inherited a +similarity of countenance to my father, which gave proof that all his +virtues and talents had not died with him. Whatever those might be +which descended to me, my noble young friend resolved should not be +lost for want of culture. + +Acting upon this plan in our subsequent intercourse, he led me to wish +to participate in that cultivation which graced his own intellect. My +active mind, when once it seized upon this new idea, fastened on it +with extreme avidity. At first it was the great object of my ambition +to rival the merits of my father, and render myself worthy of the +friendship of Adrian. But curiosity soon awoke, and an earnest love of +knowledge, which caused me to pass days and nights in reading and +study. I was already well acquainted with what I may term the panorama +of nature, the change of seasons, and the various appearances of heaven +and earth. But I was at once startled and enchanted by my sudden +extension of vision, when the curtain, which had been drawn before the +intellectual world, was withdrawn, and I saw the universe, not only as +it presented itself to my outward senses, but as it had appeared to the +wisest among men. Poetry and its creations, philosophy and its +researches and classifications, alike awoke the sleeping ideas in my +mind, and gave me new ones. + +I felt as the sailor, who from the topmast first discovered the shore +of America; and like him I hastened to tell my companions of my +discoveries in unknown regions. But I was unable to excite in any +breast the same craving appetite for knowledge that existed in mine. +Even Perdita was unable to understand me. I had lived in what is +generally called the world of reality, and it was awakening to a new +country to find that there was a deeper meaning in all I saw, besides +that which my eyes conveyed to me. The visionary Perdita beheld in all +this only a new gloss upon an old reading, and her own was sufficiently +inexhaustible to content her. She listened to me as she had done to the +narration of my adventures, and sometimes took an interest in this +species of information; but she did not, as I did, look on it as an +integral part of her being, which having obtained, I could no more put +off than the universal sense of touch. + +We both agreed in loving Adrian: although she not having yet escaped +from childhood could not appreciate as I did the extent of his merits, +or feel the same sympathy in his pursuits and opinions. I was for ever +with him. There was a sensibility and sweetness in his disposition, +that gave a tender and unearthly tone to our converse. Then he was gay +as a lark carolling from its skiey tower, soaring in thought as an +eagle, innocent as the mild-eyed dove. He could dispel the seriousness +of Perdita, and take the sting from the torturing activity of my +nature. I looked back to my restless desires and painful struggles with +my fellow beings as to a troubled dream, and felt myself as much +changed as if I had transmigrated into another form, whose fresh +sensorium and mechanism of nerves had altered the reflection of the +apparent universe in the mirror of mind. But it was not so; I was the +same in strength, in earnest craving for sympathy, in my yearning for +active exertion. My manly virtues did not desert me, for the witch +Urania spared the locks of Sampson, while he reposed at her feet; but +all was softened and humanized. Nor did Adrian instruct me only in the +cold truths of history and philosophy. At the same time that he taught +me by their means to subdue my own reckless and uncultured spirit, he +opened to my view the living page of his own heart, and gave me to feel +and understand its wondrous character. + +The ex-queen of England had, even during infancy, endeavoured to +implant daring and ambitious designs in the mind of her son. She saw +that he was endowed with genius and surpassing talent; these she +cultivated for the sake of afterwards using them for the furtherance of +her own views. She encouraged his craving for knowledge and his +impetuous courage; she even tolerated his tameless love of freedom, +under the hope that this would, as is too often the case, lead to a +passion for command. She endeavoured to bring him up in a sense of +resentment towards, and a desire to revenge himself upon, those who had +been instrumental in bringing about his father’s abdication. In this +she did not succeed. The accounts furnished him, however distorted, of +a great and wise nation asserting its right to govern itself, excited +his admiration: in early days he became a republican from principle. +Still his mother did not despair. To the love of rule and haughty pride +of birth she added determined ambition, patience, and self-control. She +devoted herself to the study of her son’s disposition. By the +application of praise, censure, and exhortation, she tried to seek and +strike the fitting chords; and though the melody that followed her +touch seemed discord to her, she built her hopes on his talents, and +felt sure that she would at last win him. The kind of banishment he now +experienced arose from other causes. + +The ex-queen had also a daughter, now twelve years of age; his fairy +sister, Adrian was wont to call her; a lovely, animated, little thing, +all sensibility and truth. With these, her children, the noble widow +constantly resided at Windsor; and admitted no visitors, except her own +partizans, travellers from her native Germany, and a few of the foreign +ministers. Among these, and highly distinguished by her, was Prince +Zaimi, ambassador to England from the free States of Greece; and his +daughter, the young Princess Evadne, passed much of her time at Windsor +Castle. In company with this sprightly and clever Greek girl, the +Countess would relax from her usual state. Her views with regard to her +own children, placed all her words and actions relative to _them_ under +restraint: but Evadne was a plaything she could in no way fear; nor +were her talents and vivacity slight alleviations to the monotony of +the Countess’s life. + +Evadne was eighteen years of age. Although they spent much time +together at Windsor, the extreme youth of Adrian prevented any +suspicion as to the nature of their intercourse. But he was ardent and +tender of heart beyond the common nature of man, and had already learnt +to love, while the beauteous Greek smiled benignantly on the boy. It +was strange to me, who, though older than Adrian, had never loved, to +witness the whole heart’s sacrifice of my friend. There was neither +jealousy, inquietude, or mistrust in his sentiment; it was devotion and +faith. His life was swallowed up in the existence of his beloved; and +his heart beat only in unison with the pulsations that vivified hers. +This was the secret law of his life—he loved and was beloved. The +universe was to him a dwelling, to inhabit with his chosen one; and not +either a scheme of society or an enchainment of events, that could +impart to him either happiness or misery. What, though life and the +system of social intercourse were a wilderness, a tiger-haunted jungle! +Through the midst of its errors, in the depths of its savage recesses, +there was a disentangled and flowery pathway, through which they might +journey in safety and delight. Their track would be like the passage of +the Red Sea, which they might traverse with unwet feet, though a wall +of destruction were impending on either side. + +Alas! why must I record the hapless delusion of this matchless specimen +of humanity? What is there in our nature that is for ever urging us on +towards pain and misery? We are not formed for enjoyment; and, however +we may be attuned to the reception of pleasureable emotion, +disappointment is the never-failing pilot of our life’s bark, and +ruthlessly carries us on to the shoals. Who was better framed than this +highly-gifted youth to love and be beloved, and to reap unalienable joy +from an unblamed passion? If his heart had slept but a few years +longer, he might have been saved; but it awoke in its infancy; it had +power, but no knowledge; and it was ruined, even as a too early-blowing +bud is nipt by the killing frost. + +I did not accuse Evadne of hypocrisy or a wish to deceive her lover; +but the first letter that I saw of hers convinced me that she did not +love him; it was written with elegance, and, foreigner as she was, with +great command of language. The hand-writing itself was exquisitely +beautiful; there was something in her very paper and its folds, which +even I, who did not love, and was withal unskilled in such matters, +could discern as being tasteful. There was much kindness, gratitude, +and sweetness in her expression, but no love. Evadne was two years +older than Adrian; and who, at eighteen, ever loved one so much their +junior? I compared her placid epistles with the burning ones of Adrian. +His soul seemed to distil itself into the words he wrote; and they +breathed on the paper, bearing with them a portion of the life of love, +which was his life. The very writing used to exhaust him; and he would +weep over them, merely from the excess of emotion they awakened in his +heart. + +Adrian’s soul was painted in his countenance, and concealment or deceit +were at the antipodes to the dreadless frankness of his nature. Evadne +made it her earnest request that the tale of their loves should not be +revealed to his mother; and after for a while contesting the point, he +yielded it to her. A vain concession; his demeanour quickly betrayed +his secret to the quick eyes of the ex-queen. With the same wary +prudence that characterized her whole conduct, she concealed her +discovery, but hastened to remove her son from the sphere of the +attractive Greek. He was sent to Cumberland; but the plan of +correspondence between the lovers, arranged by Evadne, was effectually +hidden from her. Thus the absence of Adrian, concerted for the purpose +of separating, united them in firmer bonds than ever. To me he +discoursed ceaselessly of his beloved Ionian. Her country, its ancient +annals, its late memorable struggles, were all made to partake in her +glory and excellence. He submitted to be away from her, because she +commanded this submission; but for her influence, he would have +declared his attachment before all England, and resisted, with unshaken +constancy, his mother’s opposition. Evadne’s feminine prudence +perceived how useless any assertion of his resolves would be, till +added years gave weight to his power. Perhaps there was besides a +lurking dislike to bind herself in the face of the world to one whom +she did not love—not love, at least, with that passionate enthusiasm +which her heart told her she might one day feel towards another. He +obeyed her injunctions, and passed a year in exile in Cumberland. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Happy, thrice happy, were the months, and weeks, and hours of that +year. Friendship, hand in hand with admiration, tenderness and respect, +built a bower of delight in my heart, late rough as an untrod wild in +America, as the homeless wind or herbless sea. Insatiate thirst for +knowledge, and boundless affection for Adrian, combined to keep both my +heart and understanding occupied, and I was consequently happy. What +happiness is so true and unclouded, as the overflowing and talkative +delight of young people. In our boat, upon my native lake, beside the +streams and the pale bordering poplars—in valley and over hill, my +crook thrown aside, a nobler flock to tend than silly sheep, even a +flock of new-born ideas, I read or listened to Adrian; and his +discourse, whether it concerned his love or his theories for the +improvement of man, alike entranced me. Sometimes my lawless mood would +return, my love of peril, my resistance to authority; but this was in +his absence; under the mild sway of his dear eyes, I was obedient and +good as a boy of five years old, who does his mother’s bidding. + +After a residence of about a year at Ulswater, Adrian visited London, +and came back full of plans for our benefit. You must begin life, he +said: you are seventeen, and longer delay would render the necessary +apprenticeship more and more irksome. He foresaw that his own life +would be one of struggle, and I must partake his labours with him. The +better to fit me for this task, we must now separate. He found my name +a good passport to preferment, and he had procured for me the situation +of private secretary to the Ambassador at Vienna, where I should enter +on my career under the best auspices. In two years, I should return to +my country, with a name well known and a reputation already founded. + +And Perdita?—Perdita was to become the pupil, friend and younger sister +of Evadne. With his usual thoughtfulness, he had provided for her +independence in this situation. How refuse the offers of this generous +friend?—I did not wish to refuse them; but in my heart of hearts, I +made a vow to devote life, knowledge, and power, all of which, in as +much as they were of any value, he had bestowed on me—all, all my +capacities and hopes, to him alone I would devote. + +Thus I promised myself, as I journied towards my destination with +roused and ardent expectation: expectation of the fulfilment of all +that in boyhood we promise ourselves of power and enjoyment in +maturity. Methought the time was now arrived, when, childish +occupations laid aside, I should enter into life. Even in the Elysian +fields, Virgil describes the souls of the happy as eager to drink of +the wave which was to restore them to this mortal coil. The young are +seldom in Elysium, for their desires, outstripping possibility, leave +them as poor as a moneyless debtor. We are told by the wisest +philosophers of the dangers of the world, the deceits of men, and the +treason of our own hearts: but not the less fearlessly does each put +off his frail bark from the port, spread the sail, and strain his oar, +to attain the multitudinous streams of the sea of life. How few in +youth’s prime, moor their vessels on the “golden sands,” and collect +the painted shells that strew them. But all at close of day, with riven +planks and rent canvas make for shore, and are either wrecked ere they +reach it, or find some wave-beaten haven, some desart strand, whereon +to cast themselves and die unmourned. + +A truce to philosophy!—Life is before me, and I rush into possession. +Hope, glory, love, and blameless ambition are my guides, and my soul +knows no dread. What has been, though sweet, is gone; the present is +good only because it is about to change, and the to come is all my own. +Do I fear, that my heart palpitates? high aspirations cause the flow of +my blood; my eyes seem to penetrate the cloudy midnight of time, and to +discern within the depths of its darkness, the fruition of all my soul +desires. + +Now pause!—During my journey I might dream, and with buoyant wings +reach the summit of life’s high edifice. Now that I am arrived at its +base, my pinions are furled, the mighty stairs are before me, and step +by step I must ascend the wondrous fane— + +Speak!—What door is opened? + + +Behold me in a new capacity. A diplomatist: one among the +pleasure-seeking society of a gay city; a youth of promise; favourite +of the Ambassador. All was strange and admirable to the shepherd of +Cumberland. With breathless amaze I entered on the gay scene, whose +actors were + +—the lilies glorious as Solomon, +Who toil not, neither do they spin. + + +Soon, too soon, I entered the giddy whirl; forgetting my studious +hours, and the companionship of Adrian. Passionate desire of sympathy, +and ardent pursuit for a wished-for object still characterized me. The +sight of beauty entranced me, and attractive manners in man or woman +won my entire confidence. I called it rapture, when a smile made my +heart beat; and I felt the life’s blood tingle in my frame, when I +approached the idol which for awhile I worshipped. The mere flow of +animal spirits was Paradise, and at night’s close I only desired a +renewal of the intoxicating delusion. The dazzling light of ornamented +rooms; lovely forms arrayed in splendid dresses; the motions of a +dance, the voluptuous tones of exquisite music, cradled my senses in +one delightful dream. + +And is not this in its kind happiness? I appeal to moralists and sages. +I ask if in the calm of their measured reveries, if in the deep +meditations which fill their hours, they feel the extasy of a youthful +tyro in the school of pleasure? Can the calm beams of their +heaven-seeking eyes equal the flashes of mingling passion which blind +his, or does the influence of cold philosophy steep their soul in a joy +equal to his, engaged + +In this dear work of youthful revelry. + + +But in truth, neither the lonely meditations of the hermit, nor the +tumultuous raptures of the reveller, are capable of satisfying man’s +heart. From the one we gather unquiet speculation, from the other +satiety. The mind flags beneath the weight of thought, and droops in +the heartless intercourse of those whose sole aim is amusement. There +is no fruition in their vacant kindness, and sharp rocks lurk beneath +the smiling ripples of these shallow waters. + +Thus I felt, when disappointment, weariness, and solitude drove me back +upon my heart, to gather thence the joy of which it had become barren. +My flagging spirits asked for something to speak to the affections; and +not finding it, I drooped. Thus, notwithstanding the thoughtless +delight that waited on its commencement, the impression I have of my +life at Vienna is melancholy. Goethe has said, that in youth we cannot +be happy unless we love. I did not love; but I was devoured by a +restless wish to be something to others. I became the victim of +ingratitude and cold coquetry—then I desponded, and imagined that my +discontent gave me a right to hate the world. I receded to solitude; I +had recourse to my books, and my desire again to enjoy the society of +Adrian became a burning thirst. + +Emulation, that in its excess almost assumed the venomous properties of +envy, gave a sting to these feelings. At this period the name and +exploits of one of my countrymen filled the world with admiration. +Relations of what he had done, conjectures concerning his future +actions, were the never-failing topics of the hour. I was not angry on +my own account, but I felt as if the praises which this idol received +were leaves torn from laurels destined for Adrian. But I must enter +into some account of this darling of fame—this favourite of the +wonder-loving world. + +Lord Raymond was the sole remnant of a noble but impoverished family. +From early youth he had considered his pedigree with complacency, and +bitterly lamented his want of wealth. His first wish was +aggrandisement; and the means that led towards this end were secondary +considerations. Haughty, yet trembling to every demonstration of +respect; ambitious, but too proud to shew his ambition; willing to +achieve honour, yet a votary of pleasure,— he entered upon life. He was +met on the threshold by some insult, real or imaginary; some repulse, +where he least expected it; some disappointment, hard for his pride to +bear. He writhed beneath an injury he was unable to revenge; and he +quitted England with a vow not to return, till the good time should +arrive, when she might feel the power of him she now despised. + +He became an adventurer in the Greek wars. His reckless courage and +comprehensive genius brought him into notice. He became the darling +hero of this rising people. His foreign birth, and he refused to throw +off his allegiance to his native country, alone prevented him from +filling the first offices in the state. But, though others might rank +higher in title and ceremony, Lord Raymond held a station above and +beyond all this. He led the Greek armies to victory; their triumphs +were all his own. When he appeared, whole towns poured forth their +population to meet him; new songs were adapted to their national airs, +whose themes were his glory, valour, and munificence. A truce was +concluded between the Greeks and Turks. At the same time, Lord Raymond, +by some unlooked-for chance, became the possessor of an immense fortune +in England, whither he returned, crowned with glory, to receive the +meed of honour and distinction before denied to his pretensions. His +proud heart rebelled against this change. In what was the despised +Raymond not the same? If the acquisition of power in the shape of +wealth caused this alteration, that power should they feel as an iron +yoke. Power therefore was the aim of all his endeavours; aggrandizement +the mark at which he for ever shot. In open ambition or close intrigue, +his end was the same—to attain the first station in his own country. + +This account filled me with curiosity. The events that in succession +followed his return to England, gave me keener feelings. Among his +other advantages, Lord Raymond was supremely handsome; every one +admired him; of women he was the idol. He was courteous, +honey-tongued—an adept in fascinating arts. What could not this man +achieve in the busy English world? Change succeeded to change; the +entire history did not reach me; for Adrian had ceased to write, and +Perdita was a laconic correspondent. The rumour went that Adrian had +become—how write the fatal word—mad: that Lord Raymond was the +favourite of the ex-queen, her daughter’s destined husband. Nay, more, +that this aspiring noble revived the claim of the house of Windsor to +the crown, and that, on the event of Adrian’s incurable disorder and +his marriage with the sister, the brow of the ambitious Raymond might +be encircled with the magic ring of regality. + +Such a tale filled the trumpet of many voiced fame; such a tale +rendered my longer stay at Vienna, away from the friend of my youth, +intolerable. Now I must fulfil my vow; now range myself at his side, +and be his ally and support till death. Farewell to courtly pleasure; +to politic intrigue; to the maze of passion and folly! All hail, +England! Native England, receive thy child! thou art the scene of all +my hopes, the mighty theatre on which is acted the only drama that can, +heart and soul, bear me along with it in its development. A voice most +irresistible, a power omnipotent, drew me thither. After an absence of +two years I landed on its shores, not daring to make any inquiries, +fearful of every remark. My first visit would be to my sister, who +inhabited a little cottage, a part of Adrian’s gift, on the borders of +Windsor Forest. From her I should learn the truth concerning our +protector; I should hear why she had withdrawn from the protection of +the Princess Evadne, and be instructed as to the influence which this +overtopping and towering Raymond exercised over the fortunes of my +friend. + +I had never before been in the neighbourhood of Windsor; the fertility +and beauty of the country around now struck me with admiration, which +encreased as I approached the antique wood. The ruins of majestic oaks +which had grown, flourished, and decayed during the progress of +centuries, marked where the limits of the forest once reached, while +the shattered palings and neglected underwood shewed that this part was +deserted for the younger plantations, which owed their birth to the +beginning of the nineteenth century, and now stood in the pride of +maturity. Perdita’s humble dwelling was situated on the skirts of the +most ancient portion; before it was stretched Bishopgate Heath, which +towards the east appeared interminable, and was bounded to the west by +Chapel Wood and the grove of Virginia Water. Behind, the cottage was +shadowed by the venerable fathers of the forest, under which the deer +came to graze, and which for the most part hollow and decayed, formed +fantastic groups that contrasted with the regular beauty of the younger +trees. These, the offspring of a later period, stood erect and seemed +ready to advance fearlessly into coming time; while those out worn +stragglers, blasted and broke, clung to each other, their weak boughs +sighing as the wind buffetted them—a weather-beaten crew. + +A light railing surrounded the garden of the cottage, which, +low-roofed, seemed to submit to the majesty of nature, and cower amidst +the venerable remains of forgotten time. Flowers, the children of the +spring, adorned her garden and casements; in the midst of lowliness +there was an air of elegance which spoke the graceful taste of the +inmate. With a beating heart I entered the enclosure; as I stood at the +entrance, I heard her voice, melodious as it had ever been, which +before I saw her assured me of her welfare. + +A moment more and Perdita appeared; she stood before me in the fresh +bloom of youthful womanhood, different from and yet the same as the +mountain girl I had left. Her eyes could not be deeper than they were +in childhood, nor her countenance more expressive; but the expression +was changed and improved; intelligence sat on her brow; when she smiled +her face was embellished by the softest sensibility, and her low, +modulated voice seemed tuned by love. Her person was formed in the most +feminine proportions; she was not tall, but her mountain life had given +freedom to her motions, so that her light step scarce made her +foot-fall heard as she tript across the hall to meet me. When we had +parted, I had clasped her to my bosom with unrestrained warmth; we met +again, and new feelings were awakened; when each beheld the other, +childhood passed, as full grown actors on this changeful scene. The +pause was but for a moment; the flood of association and natural +feeling which had been checked, again rushed in full tide upon our +hearts, and with tenderest emotion we were swiftly locked in each +other’s embrace. + +This burst of passionate feeling over, with calmed thoughts we sat +together, talking of the past and present. I alluded to the coldness of +her letters; but the few minutes we had spent together sufficiently +explained the origin of this. New feelings had arisen within her, which +she was unable to express in writing to one whom she had only known in +childhood; but we saw each other again, and our intimacy was renewed as +if nothing had intervened to check it. I detailed the incidents of my +sojourn abroad, and then questioned her as to the changes that had +taken place at home, the causes of Adrian’s absence, and her secluded +life. + +The tears that suffused my sister’s eyes when I mentioned our friend, +and her heightened colour seemed to vouch for the truth of the reports +that had reached me. But their import was too terrible for me to give +instant credit to my suspicion. Was there indeed anarchy in the sublime +universe of Adrian’s thoughts, did madness scatter the well-appointed +legions, and was he no longer the lord of his own soul? Beloved friend, +this ill world was no clime for your gentle spirit; you delivered up +its governance to false humanity, which stript it of its leaves ere +winter-time, and laid bare its quivering life to the evil ministration +of roughest winds. Have those gentle eyes, those “channels of the soul” +lost their meaning, or do they only in their glare disclose the +horrible tale of its aberrations? Does that voice no longer “discourse +excellent music?” Horrible, most horrible! I veil my eyes in terror of +the change, and gushing tears bear witness to my sympathy for this +unimaginable ruin. + +In obedience to my request Perdita detailed the melancholy +circumstances that led to this event. + +The frank and unsuspicious mind of Adrian, gifted as it was by every +natural grace, endowed with transcendant powers of intellect, +unblemished by the shadow of defect (unless his dreadless independence +of thought was to be construed into one), was devoted, even as a victim +to sacrifice, to his love for Evadne. He entrusted to her keeping the +treasures of his soul, his aspirations after excellence, and his plans +for the improvement of mankind. As manhood dawned upon him, his schemes +and theories, far from being changed by personal and prudential +motives, acquired new strength from the powers he felt arise within +him; and his love for Evadne became deep-rooted, as he each day became +more certain that the path he pursued was full of difficulty, and that +he must seek his reward, not in the applause or gratitude of his fellow +creatures, hardly in the success of his plans, but in the approbation +of his own heart, and in her love and sympathy, which was to lighten +every toil and recompence every sacrifice. + +In solitude, and through many wanderings afar from the haunts of men, +he matured his views for the reform of the English government, and the +improvement of the people. It would have been well if he had concealed +his sentiments, until he had come into possession of the power which +would secure their practical development. But he was impatient of the +years that must intervene, he was frank of heart and fearless. He gave +not only a brief denial to his mother’s schemes, but published his +intention of using his influence to diminish the power of the +aristocracy, to effect a greater equalization of wealth and privilege, +and to introduce a perfect system of republican government into +England. At first his mother treated his theories as the wild ravings +of inexperience. But they were so systematically arranged, and his +arguments so well supported, that though still in appearance +incredulous, she began to fear him. She tried to reason with him, and +finding him inflexible, learned to hate him. + +Strange to say, this feeling was infectious. His enthusiasm for good +which did not exist; his contempt for the sacredness of authority; his +ardour and imprudence were all at the antipodes of the usual routine of +life; the worldly feared him; the young and inexperienced did not +understand the lofty severity of his moral views, and disliked him as a +being different from themselves. Evadne entered but coldly into his +systems. She thought he did well to assert his own will, but she wished +that will to have been more intelligible to the multitude. She had none +of the spirit of a martyr, and did not incline to share the shame and +defeat of a fallen patriot. She was aware of the purity of his motives, +the generosity of his disposition, his true and ardent attachment to +her; and she entertained a great affection for him. He repaid this +spirit of kindness with the fondest gratitude, and made her the +treasure-house of all his hopes. + +At this time Lord Raymond returned from Greece. No two persons could be +more opposite than Adrian and he. With all the incongruities of his +character, Raymond was emphatically a man of the world. His passions +were violent; as these often obtained the mastery over him, he could +not always square his conduct to the obvious line of self-interest, but +self-gratification at least was the paramount object with him. He +looked on the structure of society as but a part of the machinery which +supported the web on which his life was traced. The earth was spread +out as an highway for him; the heavens built up as a canopy for him. + +Adrian felt that he made a part of a great whole. He owned affinity not +only with mankind, but all nature was akin to him; the mountains and +sky were his friends; the winds of heaven and the offspring of earth +his playmates; while he the focus only of this mighty mirror, felt his +life mingle with the universe of existence. His soul was sympathy, and +dedicated to the worship of beauty and excellence. Adrian and Raymond +now came into contact, and a spirit of aversion rose between them. +Adrian despised the narrow views of the politician, and Raymond held in +supreme contempt the benevolent visions of the philanthropist. + +With the coming of Raymond was formed the storm that laid waste at one +fell blow the gardens of delight and sheltered paths which Adrian +fancied that he had secured to himself, as a refuge from defeat and +contumely. Raymond, the deliverer of Greece, the graceful soldier, who +bore in his mien a tinge of all that, peculiar to her native clime, +Evadne cherished as most dear— Raymond was loved by Evadne. Overpowered +by her new sensations, she did not pause to examine them, or to +regulate her conduct by any sentiments except the tyrannical one which +suddenly usurped the empire of her heart. She yielded to its influence, +and the too natural consequence in a mind unattuned to soft emotions +was, that the attentions of Adrian became distasteful to her. She grew +capricious; her gentle conduct towards him was exchanged for asperity +and repulsive coldness. When she perceived the wild or pathetic appeal +of his expressive countenance, she would relent, and for a while resume +her ancient kindness. But these fluctuations shook to its depths the +soul of the sensitive youth; he no longer deemed the world subject to +him, because he possessed Evadne’s love; he felt in every nerve that +the dire storms of the mental universe were about to attack his fragile +being, which quivered at the expectation of its advent. + +Perdita, who then resided with Evadne, saw the torture that Adrian +endured. She loved him as a kind elder brother; a relation to guide, +protect, and instruct her, without the too frequent tyranny of parental +authority. She adored his virtues, and with mixed contempt and +indignation she saw Evadne pile drear sorrow on his head, for the sake +of one who hardly marked her. In his solitary despair Adrian would +often seek my sister, and in covered terms express his misery, while +fortitude and agony divided the throne of his mind. Soon, alas! was one +to conquer. Anger made no part of his emotion. With whom should he be +angry? Not with Raymond, who was unconscious of the misery he +occasioned; not with Evadne, for her his soul wept tears of blood—poor, +mistaken girl, slave not tyrant was she, and amidst his own anguish he +grieved for her future destiny. Once a writing of his fell into +Perdita’s hands; it was blotted with tears—well might any blot it with +the like— + +“Life”—it began thus—“is not the thing romance writers describe it; +going through the measures of a dance, and after various evolutions +arriving at a conclusion, when the dancers may sit down and repose. +While there is life there is action and change. We go on, each thought +linked to the one which was its parent, each act to a previous act. No +joy or sorrow dies barren of progeny, which for ever generated and +generating, weaves the chain that make our life: + +Un dia llama à otro dia +y asi llama, y encadena +llanto à llanto, y pena à pena. + + +Truly disappointment is the guardian deity of human life; she sits at +the threshold of unborn time, and marshals the events as they come +forth. Once my heart sat lightly in my bosom; all the beauty of the +world was doubly beautiful, irradiated by the sun-light shed from my +own soul. O wherefore are love and ruin for ever joined in this our +mortal dream? So that when we make our hearts a lair for that gently +seeming beast, its companion enters with it, and pitilessly lays waste +what might have been an home and a shelter.” + +By degrees his health was shaken by his misery, and then his intellect +yielded to the same tyranny. His manners grew wild; he was sometimes +ferocious, sometimes absorbed in speechless melancholy. Suddenly Evadne +quitted London for Paris; he followed, and overtook her when the vessel +was about to sail; none knew what passed between them, but Perdita had +never seen him since; he lived in seclusion, no one knew where, +attended by such persons as his mother selected for that purpose. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The next day Lord Raymond called at Perdita’s cottage, on his way to +Windsor Castle. My sister’s heightened colour and sparkling eyes half +revealed her secret to me. He was perfectly self-possessed; he accosted +us both with courtesy, seemed immediately to enter into our feelings, +and to make one with us. I scanned his physiognomy, which varied as he +spoke, yet was beautiful in every change. The usual expression of his +eyes was soft, though at times he could make them even glare with +ferocity; his complexion was colourless; and every trait spoke +predominate self-will; his smile was pleasing, though disdain too often +curled his lips—lips which to female eyes were the very throne of +beauty and love. His voice, usually gentle, often startled you by a +sharp discordant note, which shewed that his usual low tone was rather +the work of study than nature. Thus full of contradictions, unbending +yet haughty, gentle yet fierce, tender and again neglectful, he by some +strange art found easy entrance to the admiration and affection of +women; now caressing and now tyrannizing over them according to his +mood, but in every change a despot. + +At the present time Raymond evidently wished to appear amiable. Wit, +hilarity, and deep observation were mingled in his talk, rendering +every sentence that he uttered as a flash of light. He soon conquered +my latent distaste; I endeavoured to watch him and Perdita, and to keep +in mind every thing I had heard to his disadvantage. But all appeared +so ingenuous, and all was so fascinating, that I forgot everything +except the pleasure his society afforded me. Under the idea of +initiating me in the scene of English politics and society, of which I +was soon to become a part, he narrated a number of anecdotes, and +sketched many characters; his discourse, rich and varied, flowed on, +pervading all my senses with pleasure. But for one thing he would have +been completely triumphant. He alluded to Adrian, and spoke of him with +that disparagement that the worldly wise always attach to enthusiasm. +He perceived the cloud gathering, and tried to dissipate it; but the +strength of my feelings would not permit me to pass thus lightly over +this sacred subject; so I said emphatically, “Permit me to remark, that +I am devotedly attached to the Earl of Windsor; he is my best friend +and benefactor. I reverence his goodness, I accord with his opinions, +and bitterly lament his present, and I trust temporary, illness. That +illness, from its peculiarity, makes it painful to me beyond words to +hear him mentioned, unless in terms of respect and affection.” + +Raymond replied; but there was nothing conciliatory in his reply. I saw +that in his heart he despised those dedicated to any but worldly idols. +“Every man,” he said, “dreams about something, love, honour, and +pleasure; you dream of friendship, and devote yourself to a maniac; +well, if that be your vocation, doubtless you are in the right to +follow it.”— + +Some reflection seemed to sting him, and the spasm of pain that for a +moment convulsed his countenance, checked my indignation. “Happy are +dreamers,” he continued, “so that they be not awakened! Would I could +dream! but ‘broad and garish day’ is the element in which I live; the +dazzling glare of reality inverts the scene for me. Even the ghost of +friendship has departed, and love”——He broke off; nor could I guess +whether the disdain that curled his lip was directed against the +passion, or against himself for being its slave. + +This account may be taken as a sample of my intercourse with Lord +Raymond. I became intimate with him, and each day afforded me occasion +to admire more and more his powerful and versatile talents, that +together with his eloquence, which was graceful and witty, and his +wealth now immense, caused him to be feared, loved, and hated beyond +any other man in England. + +My descent, which claimed interest, if not respect, my former +connection with Adrian, the favour of the ambassador, whose secretary I +had been, and now my intimacy with Lord Raymond, gave me easy access to +the fashionable and political circles of England. To my inexperience we +at first appeared on the eve of a civil war; each party was violent, +acrimonious, and unyielding. Parliament was divided by three factions, +aristocrats, democrats, and royalists. After Adrian’s declared +predeliction to the republican form of government, the latter party had +nearly died away, chiefless, guideless; but, when Lord Raymond came +forward as its leader, it revived with redoubled force. Some were +royalists from prejudice and ancient affection, and there were many +moderately inclined who feared alike the capricious tyranny of the +popular party, and the unbending despotism of the aristocrats. More +than a third of the members ranged themselves under Raymond, and their +number was perpetually encreasing. The aristocrats built their hopes on +their preponderant wealth and influence; the reformers on the force of +the nation itself; the debates were violent, more violent the +discourses held by each knot of politicians as they assembled to +arrange their measures. Opprobrious epithets were bandied about, +resistance even to the death threatened; meetings of the populace +disturbed the quiet order of the country; except in war, how could all +this end? Even as the destructive flames were ready to break forth, I +saw them shrink back; allayed by the absence of the military, by the +aversion entertained by every one to any violence, save that of speech, +and by the cordial politeness and even friendship of the hostile +leaders when they met in private society. I was from a thousand motives +induced to attend minutely to the course of events, and watch each turn +with intense anxiety. + +I could not but perceive that Perdita loved Raymond; methought also +that he regarded the fair daughter of Verney with admiration and +tenderness. Yet I knew that he was urging forward his marriage with the +presumptive heiress of the Earldom of Windsor, with keen expectation of +the advantages that would thence accrue to him. All the ex-queen’s +friends were his friends; no week passed that he did not hold +consultations with her at Windsor. + +I had never seen the sister of Adrian. I had heard that she was lovely, +amiable, and fascinating. Wherefore should I see her? There are times +when we have an indefinable sentiment of impending change for better or +for worse, to arise from an event; and, be it for better or for worse, +we fear the change, and shun the event. For this reason I avoided this +high-born damsel. To me she was everything and nothing; her very name +mentioned by another made me start and tremble; the endless discussion +concerning her union with Lord Raymond was real agony to me. Methought +that, Adrian withdrawn from active life, and this beauteous Idris, a +victim probably to her mother’s ambitious schemes, I ought to come +forward to protect her from undue influence, guard her from +unhappiness, and secure to her freedom of choice, the right of every +human being. Yet how was I to do this? She herself would disdain my +interference. Since then I must be an object of indifference or +contempt to her, better, far better avoid her, nor expose myself before +her and the scornful world to the chance of playing the mad game of a +fond, foolish Icarus. One day, several months after my return to +England, I quitted London to visit my sister. Her society was my chief +solace and delight; and my spirits always rose at the expectation of +seeing her. Her conversation was full of pointed remark and +discernment; in her pleasant alcove, redolent with sweetest flowers, +adorned by magnificent casts, antique vases, and copies of the finest +pictures of Raphael, Correggio, and Claude, painted by herself, I +fancied myself in a fairy retreat untainted by and inaccessible to the +noisy contentions of politicians and the frivolous pursuits of fashion. +On this occasion, my sister was not alone; nor could I fail to +recognise her companion: it was Idris, the till now unseen object of my +mad idolatry. + +In what fitting terms of wonder and delight, in what choice expression +and soft flow of language, can I usher in the loveliest, wisest, best? +How in poor assemblage of words convey the halo of glory that +surrounded her, the thousand graces that waited unwearied on her. The +first thing that struck you on beholding that charming countenance was +its perfect goodness and frankness; candour sat upon her brow, +simplicity in her eyes, heavenly benignity in her smile. Her tall slim +figure bent gracefully as a poplar to the breezy west, and her gait, +goddess-like, was as that of a winged angel new alit from heaven’s high +floor; the pearly fairness of her complexion was stained by a pure +suffusion; her voice resembled the low, subdued tenor of a flute. It is +easiest perhaps to describe by contrast. I have detailed the +perfections of my sister; and yet she was utterly unlike Idris. +Perdita, even where she loved, was reserved and timid; Idris was frank +and confiding. The one recoiled to solitude, that she might there +entrench herself from disappointment and injury; the other walked forth +in open day, believing that none would harm her. Wordsworth has +compared a beloved female to two fair objects in nature; but his lines +always appeared to me rather a contrast than a similitude: + +A violet by a mossy stone + Half hidden from the eye, +Fair as a star when only one + Is shining in the sky. + + +Such a violet was sweet Perdita, trembling to entrust herself to the +very air, cowering from observation, yet betrayed by her excellences; +and repaying with a thousand graces the labour of those who sought her +in her lonely bye-path. Idris was as the star, set in single splendour +in the dim anadem of balmy evening; ready to enlighten and delight the +subject world, shielded herself from every taint by her unimagined +distance from all that was not like herself akin to heaven. + +I found this vision of beauty in Perdita’s alcove, in earnest +conversation with its inmate. When my sister saw me, she rose, and +taking my hand, said, “He is here, even at our wish; this is Lionel, my +brother.” Idris arose also, and bent on me her eyes of celestial blue, +and with grace peculiar said—“You hardly need an introduction; we have +a picture, highly valued by my father, which declares at once your +name. Verney, you will acknowledge this tie, and as my brother’s +friend, I feel that I may trust you.” + +Then, with lids humid with a tear and trembling voice, she continued— +“Dear friends, do not think it strange that now, visiting you for the +first time, I ask your assistance, and confide my wishes and fears to +you. To you alone do I dare speak; I have heard you commended by +impartial spectators; you are my brother’s friends, therefore you must +be mine. What can I say? if you refuse to aid me, I am lost indeed!” +She cast up her eyes, while wonder held her auditors mute; then, as if +carried away by her feelings, she cried—“My brother! beloved, ill-fated +Adrian! how speak of your misfortunes? Doubtless you have both heard +the current tale; perhaps believe the slander; but he is not mad! Were +an angel from the foot of God’s throne to assert it, never, never would +I believe it. He is wronged, betrayed, imprisoned—save him! Verney, you +must do this; seek him out in whatever part of the island he is +immured; find him, rescue him from his persecutors, restore him to +himself, to me—on the wide earth I have none to love but only him!” + +Her earnest appeal, so sweetly and passionately expressed, filled me +with wonder and sympathy; and, when she added, with thrilling voice and +look, “Do you consent to undertake this enterprize?” I vowed, with +energy and truth, to devote myself in life and death to the restoration +and welfare of Adrian. We then conversed on the plan I should pursue, +and discussed the probable means of discovering his residence. While we +were in earnest discourse, Lord Raymond entered unannounced: I saw +Perdita tremble and grow deadly pale, and the cheeks of Idris glow with +purest blushes. He must have been astonished at our conclave, disturbed +by it I should have thought; but nothing of this appeared; he saluted +my companions, and addressed me with a cordial greeting. Idris appeared +suspended for a moment, and then with extreme sweetness, she said, +“Lord Raymond, I confide in your goodness and honour.” + +Smiling haughtily, he bent his head, and replied, with emphasis, “Do +you indeed confide, Lady Idris?” + +She endeavoured to read his thought, and then answered with dignity, +“As you please. It is certainly best not to compromise oneself by any +concealment.” + +“Pardon me,” he replied, “if I have offended. Whether you trust me or +not, rely on my doing my utmost to further your wishes, whatever they +may be.” + +Idris smiled her thanks, and rose to take leave. Lord Raymond requested +permission to accompany her to Windsor Castle, to which she consented, +and they quitted the cottage together. My sister and I were left—truly +like two fools, who fancied that they had obtained a golden treasure, +till daylight shewed it to be lead—two silly, luckless flies, who had +played in sunbeams and were caught in a spider’s web. I leaned against +the casement, and watched those two glorious creatures, till they +disappeared in the forest-glades; and then I turned. Perdita had not +moved; her eyes fixed on the ground, her cheeks pale, her very lips +white, motionless and rigid, every feature stamped by woe, she sat. +Half frightened, I would have taken her hand; but she shudderingly +withdrew it, and strove to collect herself. I entreated her to speak to +me: “Not now,” she replied, “nor do you speak to me, my dear Lionel; +you _can_ say nothing, for you know nothing. I will see you to-morrow; +in the meantime, adieu!” She rose, and walked from the room; but +pausing at the door, and leaning against it, as if her over-busy +thoughts had taken from her the power of supporting herself, she said, +“Lord Raymond will probably return. Will you tell him that he must +excuse me to-day, for I am not well. I will see him to-morrow if he +wishes it, and you also. You had better return to London with him; you +can there make the enquiries agreed upon, concerning the Earl of +Windsor and visit me again to-morrow, before you proceed on your +journey—till then, farewell!” + +She spoke falteringly, and concluded with a heavy sigh. I gave my +assent to her request; and she left me. I felt as if, from the order of +the systematic world, I had plunged into chaos, obscure, contrary, +unintelligible. That Raymond should marry Idris was more than ever +intolerable; yet my passion, though a giant from its birth, was too +strange, wild, and impracticable, for me to feel at once the misery I +perceived in Perdita. How should I act? She had not confided in me; I +could not demand an explanation from Raymond without the hazard of +betraying what was perhaps her most treasured secret. I would obtain +the truth from her the following day—in the mean time—But, while I was +occupied by multiplying reflections, Lord Raymond returned. He asked +for my sister; and I delivered her message. After musing on it for a +moment, he asked me if I were about to return to London, and if I would +accompany him: I consented. He was full of thought, and remained silent +during a considerable part of our ride; at length he said, “I must +apologize to you for my abstraction; the truth is, Ryland’s motion +comes on to-night, and I am considering my reply.” + +Ryland was the leader of the popular party, a hard-headed man, and in +his way eloquent; he had obtained leave to bring in a bill making it +treason to endeavour to change the present state of the English +government and the standing laws of the republic. This attack was +directed against Raymond and his machinations for the restoration of +the monarchy. + +Raymond asked me if I would accompany him to the House that evening. I +remembered my pursuit for intelligence concerning Adrian; and, knowing +that my time would be fully occupied, I excused myself. “Nay,” said my +companion, “I can free you from your present impediment. You are going +to make enquiries concerning the Earl of Windsor. I can answer them at +once, he is at the Duke of Athol’s seat at Dunkeld. On the first +approach of his disorder, he travelled about from one place to another; +until, arriving at that romantic seclusion he refused to quit it, and +we made arrangements with the Duke for his continuing there.” + +I was hurt by the careless tone with which he conveyed this +information, and replied coldly: “I am obliged to you for your +intelligence, and will avail myself of it.” + +“You shall, Verney,” said he, “and if you continue of the same mind, I +will facilitate your views. But first witness, I beseech you, the +result of this night’s contest, and the triumph I am about to achieve, +if I may so call it, while I fear that victory is to me defeat. What +can I do? My dearest hopes appear to be near their fulfilment. The +ex-queen gives me Idris; Adrian is totally unfitted to succeed to the +earldom, and that earldom in my hands becomes a kingdom. By the +reigning God it is true; the paltry earldom of Windsor shall no longer +content him, who will inherit the rights which must for ever appertain +to the person who possesses it. The Countess can never forget that she +has been a queen, and she disdains to leave a diminished inheritance to +her children; her power and my wit will rebuild the throne, and this +brow will be clasped by a kingly diadem.—I can do this—I can marry +Idris.”—- + +He stopped abruptly, his countenance darkened, and its expression +changed again and again under the influence of internal passion. I +asked, “Does Lady Idris love you?” + +“What a question,” replied he laughing. “She will of course, as I shall +her, when we are married.” + +“You begin late,” said I, ironically, “marriage is usually considered +the grave, and not the cradle of love. So you are about to love her, +but do not already?” + +“Do not catechise me, Lionel; I will do my duty by her, be assured. +Love! I must steel my heart against _that_; expel it from its tower of +strength, barricade it out: the fountain of love must cease to play, +its waters be dried up, and all passionate thoughts attendant on it +die—that is to say, the love which would rule me, not that which I +rule. Idris is a gentle, pretty, sweet little girl; it is impossible +not to have an affection for her, and I have a very sincere one; only +do not speak of love —love, the tyrant and the tyrant-queller; love, +until now my conqueror, now my slave; the hungry fire, the untameable +beast, the fanged snake—no—no—I will have nothing to do with that love. +Tell me, Lionel, do you consent that I should marry this young lady?” + +He bent his keen eyes upon me, and my uncontrollable heart swelled in +my bosom. I replied in a calm voice—but how far from calm was the +thought imaged by my still words—“Never! I can never consent that Lady +Idris should be united to one who does not love her.” + +“Because you love her yourself.” + +“Your Lordship might have spared that taunt; I do not, dare not love +her.” + +“At least,” he continued haughtily, “she does not love you. I would not +marry a reigning sovereign, were I not sure that her heart was free. +But, O, Lionel! a kingdom is a word of might, and gently sounding are +the terms that compose the style of royalty. Were not the mightiest men +of the olden times kings? Alexander was a king; Solomon, the wisest of +men, was a king; Napoleon was a king; Cæsar died in his attempt to +become one, and Cromwell, the puritan and king-killer, aspired to +regality. The father of Adrian yielded up the already broken sceptre of +England; but I will rear the fallen plant, join its dismembered frame, +and exalt it above all the flowers of the field. + +“You need not wonder that I freely discover Adrian’s abode. Do not +suppose that I am wicked or foolish enough to found my purposed +sovereignty on a fraud, and one so easily discovered as the truth or +falsehood of the Earl’s insanity. I am just come from him. Before I +decided on my marriage with Idris, I resolved to see him myself again, +and to judge of the probability of his recovery.—He is irrecoverably +mad.” + +I gasped for breath— + +“I will not detail to you,” continued Raymond, “the melancholy +particulars. You shall see him, and judge for yourself; although I fear +this visit, useless to him, will be insufferably painful to you. It has +weighed on my spirits ever since. Excellent and gentle as he is even in +the downfall of his reason, I do not worship him as you do, but I would +give all my hopes of a crown and my right hand to boot, to see him +restored to himself.” + +His voice expressed the deepest compassion: “Thou most unaccountable +being,” I cried, “whither will thy actions tend, in all this maze of +purpose in which thou seemest lost?” + +“Whither indeed? To a crown, a golden be-gemmed crown, I hope; and yet +I dare not trust and though I dream of a crown and wake for one, ever +and anon a busy devil whispers to me, that it is but a fool’s cap that +I seek, and that were I wise, I should trample on it, and take in its +stead, that which is worth all the crowns of the east and +presidentships of the west.” + +“And what is that?” + +“If I do make it my choice, then you shall know; at present I dare not +speak, even think of it.” + +Again he was silent, and after a pause turned to me laughingly. When +scorn did not inspire his mirth, when it was genuine gaiety that +painted his features with a joyous expression, his beauty became +super-eminent, divine. “Verney,” said he, “my first act when I become +King of England, will be to unite with the Greeks, take Constantinople, +and subdue all Asia. I intend to be a warrior, a conqueror; Napoleon’s +name shall vail to mine; and enthusiasts, instead of visiting his rocky +grave, and exalting the merits of the fallen, shall adore my majesty, +and magnify my illustrious achievements.” + +I listened to Raymond with intense interest. Could I be other than all +ear, to one who seemed to govern the whole earth in his grasping +imagination, and who only quailed when he attempted to rule himself. +Then on his word and will depended my own happiness—the fate of all +dear to me. I endeavoured to divine the concealed meaning of his words. +Perdita’s name was not mentioned; yet I could not doubt that love for +her caused the vacillation of purpose that he exhibited. And who was so +worthy of love as my noble-minded sister? Who deserved the hand of this +self-exalted king more than she whose glance belonged to a queen of +nations? who loved him, as he did her; notwithstanding that +disappointment quelled her passion, and ambition held strong combat +with his. + +We went together to the House in the evening. Raymond, while he knew +that his plans and prospects were to be discussed and decided during +the expected debate, was gay and careless. An hum, like that of ten +thousand hives of swarming bees, stunned us as we entered the +coffee-room. Knots of politicians were assembled with anxious brows and +loud or deep voices. The aristocratical party, the richest and most +influential men in England, appeared less agitated than the others, for +the question was to be discussed without their interference. Near the +fire was Ryland and his supporters. Ryland was a man of obscure birth +and of immense wealth, inherited from his father, who had been a +manufacturer. He had witnessed, when a young man, the abdication of the +king, and the amalgamation of the two houses of Lords and Commons; he +had sympathized with these popular encroachments, and it had been the +business of his life to consolidate and encrease them. Since then, the +influence of the landed proprietors had augmented; and at first Ryland +was not sorry to observe the machinations of Lord Raymond, which drew +off many of his opponent’s partizans. But the thing was now going too +far. The poorer nobility hailed the return of sovereignty, as an event +which would restore them to their power and rights, now lost. The half +extinct spirit of royalty roused itself in the minds of men; and they, +willing slaves, self-constituted subjects, were ready to bend their +necks to the yoke. Some erect and manly spirits still remained, pillars +of state; but the word republic had grown stale to the vulgar ear; and +many—the event would prove whether it was a majority— pined for the +tinsel and show of royalty. Ryland was roused to resistance; he +asserted that his sufferance alone had permitted the encrease of this +party; but the time for indulgence was passed, and with one motion of +his arm he would sweep away the cobwebs that blinded his countrymen. + +When Raymond entered the coffee-room, his presence was hailed by his +friends almost with a shout. They gathered round him, counted their +numbers, and detailed the reasons why they were now to receive an +addition of such and such members, who had not yet declared themselves. +Some trifling business of the House having been gone through, the +leaders took their seats in the chamber; the clamour of voices +continued, till Ryland arose to speak, and then the slightest whispered +observation was audible. All eyes were fixed upon him as he +stood—ponderous of frame, sonorous of voice, and with a manner which, +though not graceful, was impressive. I turned from his marked, iron +countenance to Raymond, whose face, veiled by a smile, would not betray +his care; yet his lips quivered somewhat, and his hand clasped the +bench on which he sat, with a convulsive strength that made the muscles +start again. + +Ryland began by praising the present state of the British empire. He +recalled past years to their memory; the miserable contentions which in +the time of our fathers arose almost to civil war, the abdication of +the late king, and the foundation of the republic. He described this +republic; shewed how it gave privilege to each individual in the state, +to rise to consequence, and even to temporary sovereignty. He compared +the royal and republican spirit; shewed how the one tended to enslave +the minds of men; while all the institutions of the other served to +raise even the meanest among us to something great and good. He shewed +how England had become powerful, and its inhabitants valiant and wise, +by means of the freedom they enjoyed. As he spoke, every heart swelled +with pride, and every cheek glowed with delight to remember, that each +one there was English, and that each supported and contributed to the +happy state of things now commemorated. Ryland’s fervour increased—his +eyes lighted up—his voice assumed the tone of passion. There was one +man, he continued, who wished to alter all this, and bring us back to +our days of impotence and contention:—one man, who would dare arrogate +the honour which was due to all who claimed England as their +birthplace, and set his name and style above the name and style of his +country. I saw at this juncture that Raymond changed colour; his eyes +were withdrawn from the orator, and cast on the ground; the listeners +turned from one to the other; but in the meantime the speaker’s voice +filled their ears—the thunder of his denunciations influenced their +senses. The very boldness of his language gave him weight; each knew +that he spoke truth—a truth known, but not acknowledged. He tore from +reality the mask with which she had been clothed; and the purposes of +Raymond, which before had crept around, ensnaring by stealth, now stood +a hunted stag—even at bay—as all perceived who watched the +irrepressible changes of his countenance. Ryland ended by moving, that +any attempt to re-erect the kingly power should be declared treason, +and he a traitor who should endeavour to change the present form of +government. Cheers and loud acclamations followed the close of his +speech. + +After his motion had been seconded, Lord Raymond rose,—his countenance +bland, his voice softly melodious, his manner soothing, his grace and +sweetness came like the mild breathing of a flute, after the loud, +organ-like voice of his adversary. He rose, he said, to speak in favour +of the honourable member’s motion, with one slight amendment subjoined. +He was ready to go back to old times, and commemorate the contests of +our fathers, and the monarch’s abdication. Nobly and greatly, he said, +had the illustrious and last sovereign of England sacrificed himself to +the apparent good of his country, and divested himself of a power which +could only be maintained by the blood of his subjects—these subjects +named so no more, these, his friends and equals, had in gratitude +conferred certain favours and distinctions on him and his family for +ever. An ample estate was allotted to them, and they took the first +rank among the peers of Great Britain. Yet it might be conjectured that +they had not forgotten their ancient heritage; and it was hard that his +heir should suffer alike with any other pretender, if he attempted to +regain what by ancient right and inheritance belonged to him. He did +not say that he should favour such an attempt; but he did say that such +an attempt would be venial; and, if the aspirant did not go so far as +to declare war, and erect a standard in the kingdom, his fault ought to +be regarded with an indulgent eye. In his amendment he proposed, that +an exception should be made in the bill in favour of any person who +claimed the sovereign power in right of the earls of Windsor. Nor did +Raymond make an end without drawing in vivid and glowing colours, the +splendour of a kingdom, in opposition to the commercial spirit of +republicanism. He asserted, that each individual under the English +monarchy, was then as now, capable of attaining high rank and +power—with one only exception, that of the function of chief +magistrate; higher and nobler rank, than a bartering, timorous +commonwealth could afford. And for this one exception, to what did it +amount? The nature of riches and influence forcibly confined the list +of candidates to a few of the wealthiest; and it was much to be feared, +that the ill-humour and contention generated by this triennial +struggle, would counterbalance its advantages in impartial eyes. I can +ill record the flow of language and graceful turns of expression, the +wit and easy raillery that gave vigour and influence to his speech. His +manner, timid at first, became firm—his changeful face was lit up to +superhuman brilliancy; his voice, various as music, was like that +enchanting. + +It were useless to record the debate that followed this harangue. Party +speeches were delivered, which clothed the question in cant, and veiled +its simple meaning in a woven wind of words. The motion was lost; +Ryland withdrew in rage and despair; and Raymond, gay and exulting, +retired to dream of his future kingdom. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Is there such a feeling as love at first sight? And if there be, in +what does its nature differ from love founded in long observation and +slow growth? Perhaps its effects are not so permanent; but they are, +while they last, as violent and intense. We walk the pathless mazes of +society, vacant of joy, till we hold this clue, leading us through that +labyrinth to paradise. Our nature dim, like to an unlighted torch, +sleeps in formless blank till the fire attain it; this life of life, +this light to moon, and glory to the sun. What does it matter, whether +the fire be struck from flint and steel, nourished with care into a +flame, slowly communicated to the dark wick, or whether swiftly the +radiant power of light and warmth passes from a kindred power, and +shines at once the beacon and the hope. In the deepest fountain of my +heart the pulses were stirred; around, above, beneath, the clinging +Memory as a cloak enwrapt me. In no one moment of coming time did I +feel as I had done in time gone by. The spirit of Idris hovered in the +air I breathed; her eyes were ever and for ever bent on mine; her +remembered smile blinded my faint gaze, and caused me to walk as one, +not in eclipse, not in darkness and vacancy—but in a new and brilliant +light, too novel, too dazzling for my human senses. On every leaf, on +every small division of the universe, (as on the hyacinth ας is +engraved) was imprinted the talisman of my existence—SHE LIVES! SHE IS! +—I had not time yet to analyze my feeling, to take myself to task, and +leash in the tameless passion; all was one idea, one feeling, one +knowledge —it was my life! + +But the die was cast—Raymond would marry Idris. The merry marriage +bells rung in my ears; I heard the nation’s gratulation which followed +the union; the ambitious noble uprose with swift eagle-flight, from the +lowly ground to regal supremacy—and to the love of Idris. Yet, not so! +She did not love him; she had called me her friend; she had smiled on +me; to me she had entrusted her heart’s dearest hope, the welfare of +Adrian. This reflection thawed my congealing blood, and again the tide +of life and love flowed impetuously onward, again to ebb as my busy +thoughts changed. + +The debate had ended at three in the morning. My soul was in tumults; I +traversed the streets with eager rapidity. Truly, I was mad that night— +love—which I have named a giant from its birth, wrestled with despair! +My heart, the field of combat, was wounded by the iron heel of the one, +watered by the gushing tears of the other. Day, hateful to me, dawned; +I retreated to my lodgings—I threw myself on a couch—I slept—was it +sleep?—for thought was still alive—love and despair struggled still, +and I writhed with unendurable pain. + +I awoke half stupefied; I felt a heavy oppression on me, but knew not +wherefore; I entered, as it were, the council-chamber of my brain, and +questioned the various ministers of thought therein assembled; too soon +I remembered all; too soon my limbs quivered beneath the tormenting +power; soon, too soon, I knew myself a slave! + +Suddenly, unannounced, Lord Raymond entered my apartment. He came in +gaily, singing the Tyrolese song of liberty; noticed me with a gracious +nod, and threw himself on a sopha opposite the copy of a bust of the +Apollo Belvidere. After one or two trivial remarks, to which I sullenly +replied, he suddenly cried, looking at the bust, “I am called like that +victor! Not a bad idea; the head will serve for my new coinage, and be +an omen to all dutiful subjects of my future success.” + +He said this in his most gay, yet benevolent manner, and smiled, not +disdainfully, but in playful mockery of himself. Then his countenance +suddenly darkened, and in that shrill tone peculiar to himself, he +cried, “I fought a good battle last night; higher conquest the plains +of Greece never saw me achieve. Now I am the first man in the state, +burthen of every ballad, and object of old women’s mumbled devotions. +What are your meditations? You, who fancy that you can read the human +soul, as your native lake reads each crevice and folding of its +surrounding hills—say what you think of me; king-expectant, angel or +devil, which?” + +This ironical tone was discord to my bursting, over-boiling-heart; I +was nettled by his insolence, and replied with bitterness; “There is a +spirit, neither angel or devil, damned to limbo merely.” I saw his +cheeks become pale, and his lips whiten and quiver; his anger served +but to enkindle mine, and I answered with a determined look his eyes +which glared on me; suddenly they were withdrawn, cast down, a tear, I +thought, wetted the dark lashes; I was softened, and with involuntary +emotion added, “Not that you are such, my dear lord.” + +I paused, even awed by the agitation he evinced; “Yes,” he said at +length, rising and biting his lip, as he strove to curb his passion; +“Such am I! You do not know me, Verney; neither you, nor our audience +of last night, nor does universal England know aught of me. I stand +here, it would seem, an elected king; this hand is about to grasp a +sceptre; these brows feel in each nerve the coming diadem. I appear to +have strength, power, victory; standing as a dome-supporting column +stands; and I am—a reed! I have ambition, and that attains its aim; my +nightly dreams are realized, my waking hopes fulfilled; a kingdom +awaits my acceptance, my enemies are overthrown. But here,” and he +struck his heart with violence, “here is the rebel, here the +stumbling-block; this over-ruling heart, which I may drain of its +living blood; but, while one fluttering pulsation remains, I am its +slave.” + +He spoke with a broken voice, then bowed his head, and, hiding his face +in his hands, wept. I was still smarting from my own disappointment; +yet this scene oppressed me even to terror, nor could I interrupt his +access of passion. It subsided at length; and, throwing himself on the +couch, he remained silent and motionless, except that his changeful +features shewed a strong internal conflict. At last he rose, and said +in his usual tone of voice, “The time grows on us, Verney, I must away. +Let me not forget my chiefest errand here. Will you accompany me to +Windsor to-morrow? You will not be dishonoured by my society, and as +this is probably the last service, or disservice you can do me, will +you grant my request?” + +He held out his hand with almost a bashful air. Swiftly I thought—Yes, +I will witness the last scene of the drama. Beside which, his mien +conquered me, and an affectionate sentiment towards him, again filled +my heart—I bade him command me. “Aye, that I will,” said he gaily, +“that’s my cue now; be with me to-morrow morning by seven; be secret +and faithful; and you shall be groom of the stole ere long.” + +So saying, he hastened away, vaulted on his horse, and with a gesture +as if he gave me his hand to kiss, bade me another laughing adieu. Left +to myself, I strove with painful intensity to divine the motive of his +request and foresee the events of the coming day. The hours passed on +unperceived; my head ached with thought, the nerves seemed teeming with +the over full fraught—I clasped my burning brow, as if my fevered hand +could medicine its pain. I was punctual to the appointed hour on the +following day, and found Lord Raymond waiting for me. We got into his +carriage, and proceeded towards Windsor. I had tutored myself, and was +resolved by no outward sign to disclose my internal agitation. + +“What a mistake Ryland made,” said Raymond, “when he thought to +overpower me the other night. He spoke well, very well; such an +harangue would have succeeded better addressed to me singly, than to +the fools and knaves assembled yonder. Had I been alone, I should have +listened to him with a wish to hear reason, but when he endeavoured to +vanquish me in my own territory, with my own weapons, he put me on my +mettle, and the event was such as all might have expected.” + +I smiled incredulously, and replied: “I am of Ryland’s way of thinking, +and will, if you please, repeat all his arguments; we shall see how far +you will be induced by them, to change the royal for the patriotic +style.” + +“The repetition would be useless,” said Raymond, “since I well remember +them, and have many others, self-suggested, which speak with +unanswerable persuasion.” + +He did not explain himself, nor did I make any remark on his reply. Our +silence endured for some miles, till the country with open fields, or +shady woods and parks, presented pleasant objects to our view. After +some observations on the scenery and seats, Raymond said: “Philosophers +have called man a microcosm of nature, and find a reflection in the +internal mind for all this machinery visibly at work around us. This +theory has often been a source of amusement to me; and many an idle +hour have I spent, exercising my ingenuity in finding resemblances. +Does not Lord Bacon say that, ‘the falling from a discord to a concord, +which maketh great sweetness in music, hath an agreement with the +affections, which are re-integrated to the better after some dislikes?’ +What a sea is the tide of passion, whose fountains are in our own +nature! Our virtues are the quick-sands, which shew themselves at calm +and low water; but let the waves arise and the winds buffet them, and +the poor devil whose hope was in their durability, finds them sink from +under him. The fashions of the world, its exigencies, educations and +pursuits, are winds to drive our wills, like clouds all one way; but +let a thunderstorm arise in the shape of love, hate, or ambition, and +the rack goes backward, stemming the opposing air in triumph.” + +“Yet,” replied I, “nature always presents to our eyes the appearance of +a patient: while there is an active principle in man which is capable +of ruling fortune, and at least of tacking against the gale, till it in +some mode conquers it.” + +“There is more of what is specious than true in your distinction,” said +my companion. “Did we form ourselves, choosing our dispositions, and +our powers? I find myself, for one, as a stringed instrument with +chords and stops—but I have no power to turn the pegs, or pitch my +thoughts to a higher or lower key.” + +“Other men,” I observed, “may be better musicians.” + +“I talk not of others, but myself,” replied Raymond, “and I am as fair +an example to go by as another. I cannot set my heart to a particular +tune, or run voluntary changes on my will. We are born; we choose +neither our parents, nor our station; we are educated by others, or by +the world’s circumstance, and this cultivation, mingling with our +innate disposition, is the soil in which our desires, passions, and +motives grow.” + +“There is much truth in what you say,” said I, “and yet no man ever +acts upon this theory. Who, when he makes a choice, says, Thus I +choose, because I am necessitated? Does he not on the contrary feel a +freedom of will within him, which, though you may call it fallacious, +still actuates him as he decides?” + +“Exactly so,” replied Raymond, “another link of the breakless chain. +Were I now to commit an act which would annihilate my hopes, and pluck +the regal garment from my mortal limbs, to clothe them in ordinary +weeds, would this, think you, be an act of free-will on my part?” + +As we talked thus, I perceived that we were not going the ordinary road +to Windsor, but through Englefield Green, towards Bishopgate Heath. I +began to divine that Idris was not the object of our journey, but that +I was brought to witness the scene that was to decide the fate of +Raymond—and of Perdita. Raymond had evidently vacillated during his +journey, and irresolution was marked in every gesture as we entered +Perdita’s cottage. I watched him curiously, determined that, if this +hesitation should continue, I would assist Perdita to overcome herself, +and teach her to disdain the wavering love of him, who balanced between +the possession of a crown, and of her, whose excellence and affection +transcended the worth of a kingdom. + +We found her in her flower-adorned alcove; she was reading the +newspaper report of the debate in parliament, that apparently doomed +her to hopelessness. That heart-sinking feeling was painted in her sunk +eyes and spiritless attitude; a cloud was on her beauty, and frequent +sighs were tokens of her distress. This sight had an instantaneous +effect on Raymond; his eyes beamed with tenderness, and remorse clothed +his manners with earnestness and truth. He sat beside her; and, taking +the paper from her hand, said, “Not a word more shall my sweet Perdita +read of this contention of madmen and fools. I must not permit you to +be acquainted with the extent of my delusion, lest you despise me; +although, believe me, a wish to appear before you, not vanquished, but +as a conqueror, inspired me during my wordy war.” + +Perdita looked at him like one amazed; her expressive countenance shone +for a moment with tenderness; to see him only was happiness. But a +bitter thought swiftly shadowed her joy; she bent her eyes on the +ground, endeavouring to master the passion of tears that threatened to +overwhelm her. Raymond continued, “I will not act a part with you, dear +girl, or appear other than what I am, weak and unworthy, more fit to +excite your disdain than your love. Yet you do love me; I feel and know +that you do, and thence I draw my most cherished hopes. If pride guided +you, or even reason, you might well reject me. Do so; if your high +heart, incapable of my infirmity of purpose, refuses to bend to the +lowness of mine. Turn from me, if you will,—if you can. If your whole +soul does not urge you to forgive me—if your entire heart does not open +wide its door to admit me to its very centre, forsake me, never speak +to me again. I, though sinning against you almost beyond remission, I +also am proud; there must be no reserve in your pardon—no drawback to +the gift of your affection.” + +Perdita looked down, confused, yet pleased. My presence embarrassed +her; so that she dared not turn to meet her lover’s eye, or trust her +voice to assure him of her affection; while a blush mantled her cheek, +and her disconsolate air was exchanged for one expressive of deep-felt +joy. Raymond encircled her waist with his arm, and continued, “I do not +deny that I have balanced between you and the highest hope that mortal +men can entertain; but I do so no longer. Take me—mould me to your +will, possess my heart and soul to all eternity. If you refuse to +contribute to my happiness, I quit England to-night, and will never set +foot in it again. + +“Lionel, you hear: witness for me: persuade your sister to forgive the +injury I have done her; persuade her to be mine.” + +“There needs no persuasion,” said the blushing Perdita, “except your +own dear promises, and my ready heart, which whispers to me that they +are true.” + +That same evening we all three walked together in the forest, and, with +the garrulity which happiness inspires, they detailed to me the history +of their loves. It was pleasant to see the haughty Raymond and reserved +Perdita changed through happy love into prattling, playful children, +both losing their characteristic dignity in the fulness of mutual +contentment. A night or two ago Lord Raymond, with a brow of care, and +a heart oppressed with thought, bent all his energies to silence or +persuade the legislators of England that a sceptre was not too weighty +for his hand, while visions of dominion, war, and triumph floated +before him; now, frolicsome as a lively boy sporting under his mother’s +approving eye, the hopes of his ambition were complete, when he pressed +the small fair hand of Perdita to his lips; while she, radiant with +delight, looked on the still pool, not truly admiring herself, but +drinking in with rapture the reflection there made of the form of +herself and her lover, shewn for the first time in dear conjunction. + +I rambled away from them. If the rapture of assured sympathy was +theirs, I enjoyed that of restored hope. I looked on the regal towers +of Windsor. High is the wall and strong the barrier that separate me +from my Star of Beauty. But not impassible. She will not be his. A few +more years dwell in thy native garden, sweet flower, till I by toil and +time acquire a right to gather thee. Despair not, nor bid me despair! +What must I do now? First I must seek Adrian, and restore him to her. +Patience, gentleness, and untired affection, shall recall him, if it be +true, as Raymond says, that he is mad; energy and courage shall rescue +him, if he be unjustly imprisoned. + +After the lovers again joined me, we supped together in the alcove. +Truly it was a fairy’s supper; for though the air was perfumed by the +scent of fruits and wine, we none of us either ate or drank—even the +beauty of the night was unobserved; their extasy could not be increased +by outward objects, and I was wrapt in reverie. At about midnight +Raymond and I took leave of my sister, to return to town. He was all +gaiety; scraps of songs fell from his lips; every thought of his +mind—every object about us, gleamed under the sunshine of his mirth. He +accused me of melancholy, of ill-humour and envy. + +“Not so,” said I, “though I confess that my thoughts are not occupied +as pleasantly as yours are. You promised to facilitate my visit to +Adrian; I conjure you to perform your promise. I cannot linger here; I +long to soothe —perhaps to cure the malady of my first and best friend. +I shall immediately depart for Dunkeld.” + +“Thou bird of night,” replied Raymond, “what an eclipse do you throw +across my bright thoughts, forcing me to call to mind that melancholy +ruin, which stands in mental desolation, more irreparable than a +fragment of a carved column in a weed-grown field. You dream that you +can restore him? Daedalus never wound so inextricable an error round +Minotaur, as madness has woven about his imprisoned reason. Nor you, +nor any other Theseus, can thread the labyrinth, to which perhaps some +unkind Ariadne has the clue.” + +“You allude to Evadne Zaimi: but she is not in England.” + +“And were she,” said Raymond, “I would not advise her seeing him. +Better to decay in absolute delirium, than to be the victim of the +methodical unreason of ill-bestowed love. The long duration of his +malady has probably erased from his mind all vestige of her; and it +were well that it should never again be imprinted. You will find him at +Dunkeld; gentle and tractable he wanders up the hills, and through the +wood, or sits listening beside the waterfall. You may see him—his hair +stuck with wild flowers —his eyes full of untraceable meaning—his voice +broken—his person wasted to a shadow. He plucks flowers and weeds, and +weaves chaplets of them, or sails yellow leaves and bits of bark on the +stream, rejoicing in their safety, or weeping at their wreck. The very +memory half unmans me. By Heaven! the first tears I have shed since +boyhood rushed scalding into my eyes when I saw him.” + +It needed not this last account to spur me on to visit him. I only +doubted whether or not I should endeavour to see Idris again, before I +departed. This doubt was decided on the following day. Early in the +morning Raymond came to me; intelligence had arrived that Adrian was +dangerously ill, and it appeared impossible that his failing strength +should surmount the disorder. “To-morrow,” said Raymond, “his mother +and sister set out for Scotland to see him once again.” + +“And I go to-day,” I cried; “this very hour I will engage a sailing +balloon; I shall be there in forty-eight hours at furthest, perhaps in +less, if the wind is fair. Farewell, Raymond; be happy in having chosen +the better part in life. This turn of fortune revives me. I feared +madness, not sickness—I have a presentiment that Adrian will not die; +perhaps this illness is a crisis, and he may recover.” + +Everything favoured my journey. The balloon rose about half a mile from +the earth, and with a favourable wind it hurried through the air, its +feathered vans cleaving the unopposing atmosphere. Notwithstanding the +melancholy object of my journey, my spirits were exhilarated by +reviving hope, by the swift motion of the airy pinnace, and the balmy +visitation of the sunny air. The pilot hardly moved the plumed +steerage, and the slender mechanism of the wings, wide unfurled, gave +forth a murmuring noise, soothing to the sense. Plain and hill, stream +and corn-field, were discernible below, while we unimpeded sped on +swift and secure, as a wild swan in his spring-tide flight. The machine +obeyed the slightest motion of the helm; and, the wind blowing +steadily, there was no let or obstacle to our course. Such was the +power of man over the elements; a power long sought, and lately won; +yet foretold in by-gone time by the prince of poets, whose verses I +quoted much to the astonishment of my pilot, when I told him how many +hundred years ago they had been written:— + +Oh! human wit, thou can’st invent much ill, +Thou searchest strange arts: who would think by skill, +An heavy man like a light bird should stray, +And through the empty heavens find a way? + + +I alighted at Perth; and, though much fatigued by a constant exposure +to the air for many hours, I would not rest, but merely altering my +mode of conveyance, I went by land instead of air, to Dunkeld. The sun +was rising as I entered the opening of the hills. After the revolution +of ages Birnam hill was again covered with a young forest, while more +aged pines, planted at the very commencement of the nineteenth century +by the then Duke of Athol, gave solemnity and beauty to the scene. The +rising sun first tinged the pine tops; and my mind, rendered through my +mountain education deeply susceptible of the graces of nature, and now +on the eve of again beholding my beloved and perhaps dying friend, was +strangely influenced by the sight of those distant beams: surely they +were ominous, and as such I regarded them, good omens for Adrian, on +whose life my happiness depended. + +Poor fellow! he lay stretched on a bed of sickness, his cheeks glowing +with the hues of fever, his eyes half closed, his breath irregular and +difficult. Yet it was less painful to see him thus, than to find him +fulfilling the animal functions uninterruptedly, his mind sick the +while. I established myself at his bedside; I never quitted it day or +night. Bitter task was it, to behold his spirit waver between death and +life: to see his warm cheek, and know that the very fire which burned +too fiercely there, was consuming the vital fuel; to hear his moaning +voice, which might never again articulate words of love and wisdom; to +witness the ineffectual motions of his limbs, soon to be wrapt in their +mortal shroud. Such for three days and nights appeared the consummation +which fate had decreed for my labours, and I became haggard and +spectre-like, through anxiety and watching. At length his eyes unclosed +faintly, yet with a look of returning life; he became pale and weak; +but the rigidity of his features was softened by approaching +convalescence. He knew me. What a brimful cup of joyful agony it was, +when his face first gleamed with the glance of recognition—when he +pressed my hand, now more fevered than his own, and when he pronounced +my name! No trace of his past insanity remained, to dash my joy with +sorrow. + +This same evening his mother and sister arrived. The Countess of +Windsor was by nature full of energetic feeling; but she had very +seldom in her life permitted the concentrated emotions of her heart to +shew themselves on her features. The studied immovability of her +countenance; her slow, equable manner, and soft but unmelodious voice, +were a mask, hiding her fiery passions, and the impatience of her +disposition. She did not in the least resemble either of her children; +her black and sparkling eye, lit up by pride, was totally unlike the +blue lustre, and frank, benignant expression of either Adrian or Idris. +There was something grand and majestic in her motions, but nothing +persuasive, nothing amiable. Tall, thin, and strait, her face still +handsome, her raven hair hardly tinged with grey, her forehead arched +and beautiful, had not the eye-brows been somewhat scattered—it was +impossible not to be struck by her, almost to fear her. Idris appeared +to be the only being who could resist her mother, notwithstanding the +extreme mildness of her character. But there was a fearlessness and +frankness about her, which said that she would not encroach on +another’s liberty, but held her own sacred and unassailable. + +The Countess cast no look of kindness on my worn-out frame, though +afterwards she thanked me coldly for my attentions. Not so Idris; her +first glance was for her brother; she took his hand, she kissed his +eye-lids, and hung over him with looks of compassion and love. Her eyes +glistened with tears when she thanked me, and the grace of her +expressions was enhanced, not diminished, by the fervour, which caused +her almost to falter as she spoke. Her mother, all eyes and ears, soon +interrupted us; and I saw, that she wished to dismiss me quietly, as +one whose services, now that his relatives had arrived, were of no use +to her son. I was harassed and ill, resolved not to give up my post, +yet doubting in what way I should assert it; when Adrian called me, and +clasping my hand, bade me not leave him. His mother, apparently +inattentive, at once understood what was meant, and seeing the hold we +had upon her, yielded the point to us. + +The days that followed were full of pain to me; so that I sometimes +regretted that I had not yielded at once to the haughty lady, who +watched all my motions, and turned my beloved task of nursing my friend +to a work of pain and irritation. Never did any woman appear so +entirely made of mind, as the Countess of Windsor. Her passions had +subdued her appetites, even her natural wants; she slept little, and +hardly ate at all; her body was evidently considered by her as a mere +machine, whose health was necessary for the accomplishment of her +schemes, but whose senses formed no part of her enjoyment. There is +something fearful in one who can thus conquer the animal part of our +nature, if the victory be not the effect of consummate virtue; nor was +it without a mixture of this feeling, that I beheld the figure of the +Countess awake when others slept, fasting when I, abstemious naturally, +and rendered so by the fever that preyed on me, was forced to recruit +myself with food. She resolved to prevent or diminish my opportunities +of acquiring influence over her children, and circumvented my plans by +a hard, quiet, stubborn resolution, that seemed not to belong to flesh +and blood. War was at last tacitly acknowledged between us. We had many +pitched battles, during which no word was spoken, hardly a look was +interchanged, but in which each resolved not to submit to the other. +The Countess had the advantage of position; so I was vanquished, though +I would not yield. + +I became sick at heart. My countenance was painted with the hues of ill +health and vexation. Adrian and Idris saw this; they attributed it to +my long watching and anxiety; they urged me to rest, and take care of +myself, while I most truly assured them, that my best medicine was +their good wishes; those, and the assured convalescence of my friend, +now daily more apparent. The faint rose again blushed on his cheek; his +brow and lips lost the ashy paleness of threatened dissolution; such +was the dear reward of my unremitting attention—and bounteous heaven +added overflowing recompence, when it gave me also the thanks and +smiles of Idris. + +After the lapse of a few weeks, we left Dunkeld. Idris and her mother +returned immediately to Windsor, while Adrian and I followed by slow +journies and frequent stoppages, occasioned by his continued weakness. +As we traversed the various counties of fertile England, all wore an +exhilarating appearance to my companion, who had been so long secluded +by disease from the enjoyments of weather and scenery. We passed +through busy towns and cultivated plains. The husbandmen were getting +in their plenteous harvests, and the women and children, occupied by +light rustic toils, formed groupes of happy, healthful persons, the +very sight of whom carried cheerfulness to the heart. One evening, +quitting our inn, we strolled down a shady lane, then up a grassy +slope, till we came to an eminence, that commanded an extensive view of +hill and dale, meandering rivers, dark woods, and shining villages. The +sun was setting; and the clouds, straying, like new-shorn sheep, +through the vast fields of sky, received the golden colour of his +parting beams; the distant uplands shone out, and the busy hum of +evening came, harmonized by distance, on our ear. Adrian, who felt all +the fresh spirit infused by returning health, clasped his hands in +delight, and exclaimed with transport: + +“O happy earth, and happy inhabitants of earth! A stately palace has +God built for you, O man! and worthy are you of your dwelling! Behold +the verdant carpet spread at our feet, and the azure canopy above; the +fields of earth which generate and nurture all things, and the track of +heaven, which contains and clasps all things. Now, at this evening +hour, at the period of repose and refection, methinks all hearts +breathe one hymn of love and thanksgiving, and we, like priests of old +on the mountain-tops, give a voice to their sentiment. + +“Assuredly a most benignant power built up the majestic fabric we +inhabit, and framed the laws by which it endures. If mere existence, +and not happiness, had been the final end of our being, what need of +the profuse luxuries which we enjoy? Why should our dwelling place be +so lovely, and why should the instincts of nature minister pleasurable +sensations? The very sustaining of our animal machine is made +delightful; and our sustenance, the fruits of the field, is painted +with transcendant hues, endued with grateful odours, and palatable to +our taste. Why should this be, if HE were not good? We need houses to +protect us from the seasons, and behold the materials with which we are +provided; the growth of trees with their adornment of leaves; while +rocks of stone piled above the plains variegate the prospect with their +pleasant irregularity. + +“Nor are outward objects alone the receptacles of the Spirit of Good. +Look into the mind of man, where wisdom reigns enthroned; where +imagination, the painter, sits, with his pencil dipt in hues lovelier +than those of sunset, adorning familiar life with glowing tints. What a +noble boon, worthy the giver, is the imagination! it takes from reality +its leaden hue: it envelopes all thought and sensation in a radiant +veil, and with an hand of beauty beckons us from the sterile seas of +life, to her gardens, and bowers, and glades of bliss. And is not love +a gift of the divinity? Love, and her child, Hope, which can bestow +wealth on poverty, strength on the weak, and happiness on the +sorrowing. + +“My lot has not been fortunate. I have consorted long with grief, +entered the gloomy labyrinth of madness, and emerged, but half alive. +Yet I thank God that I have lived! I thank God, that I have beheld his +throne, the heavens, and earth, his footstool. I am glad that I have +seen the changes of his day; to behold the sun, fountain of light, and +the gentle pilgrim moon; to have seen the fire bearing flowers of the +sky, and the flowery stars of earth; to have witnessed the sowing and +the harvest. I am glad that I have loved, and have experienced +sympathetic joy and sorrow with my fellow-creatures. I am glad now to +feel the current of thought flow through my mind, as the blood through +the articulations of my frame; mere existence is pleasure; and I thank +God that I live! + +“And all ye happy nurslings of mother-earth, do ye not echo my words? +Ye who are linked by the affectionate ties of nature, companions, +friends, lovers! fathers, who toil with joy for their offspring; women, +who while gazing on the living forms of their children, forget the +pains of maternity; children, who neither toil nor spin, but love and +are loved! + +“Oh, that death and sickness were banished from our earthly home! that +hatred, tyranny, and fear could no longer make their lair in the human +heart! that each man might find a brother in his fellow, and a nest of +repose amid the wide plains of his inheritance! that the source of +tears were dry, and that lips might no longer form expressions of +sorrow. Sleeping thus under the beneficent eye of heaven, can evil +visit thee, O Earth, or grief cradle to their graves thy luckless +children? Whisper it not, let the demons hear and rejoice! The choice +is with us; let us will it, and our habitation becomes a paradise. For +the will of man is omnipotent, blunting the arrows of death, soothing +the bed of disease, and wiping away the tears of agony. And what is +each human being worth, if he do not put forth his strength to aid his +fellow-creatures? My soul is a fading spark, my nature frail as a spent +wave; but I dedicate all of intellect and strength that remains to me, +to that one work, and take upon me the task, as far as I am able, of +bestowing blessings on my fellow-men!” + +His voice trembled, his eyes were cast up, his hands clasped, and his +fragile person was bent, as it were, with excess of emotion. The spirit +of life seemed to linger in his form, as a dying flame on an altar +flickers on the embers of an accepted sacrifice. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +When we arrived at Windsor, I found that Raymond and Perdita had +departed for the continent. I took possession of my sister’s cottage, +and blessed myself that I lived within view of Windsor Castle. It was a +curious fact, that at this period, when by the marriage of Perdita I +was allied to one of the richest individuals in England, and was bound +by the most intimate friendship to its chiefest noble, I experienced +the greatest excess of poverty that I had ever known. My knowledge of +the worldly principles of Lord Raymond, would have ever prevented me +from applying to him, however deep my distress might have been. It was +in vain that I repeated to myself with regard to Adrian, that his purse +was open to me; that one in soul, as we were, our fortunes ought also +to be common. I could never, while with him, think of his bounty as a +remedy to my poverty; and I even put aside hastily his offers of +supplies, assuring him of a falsehood, that I needed them not. How +could I say to this generous being, “Maintain me in idleness. You who +have dedicated your powers of mind and fortune to the benefit of your +species, shall you so misdirect your exertions, as to support in +uselessness the strong, healthy, and capable?” + +And yet I dared not request him to use his influence that I might +obtain an honourable provision for myself—for then I should have been +obliged to leave Windsor. I hovered for ever around the walls of its +Castle, beneath its enshadowing thickets; my sole companions were my +books and my loving thoughts. I studied the wisdom of the ancients, and +gazed on the happy walls that sheltered the beloved of my soul. My mind +was nevertheless idle. I pored over the poetry of old times; I studied +the metaphysics of Plato and Berkeley. I read the histories of Greece +and Rome, and of England’s former periods, and I watched the movements +of the lady of my heart. At night I could see her shadow on the walls +of her apartment; by day I viewed her in her flower-garden, or riding +in the park with her usual companions. Methought the charm would be +broken if I were seen, but I heard the music of her voice and was +happy. I gave to each heroine of whom I read, her beauty and matchless +excellences—such was Antigone, when she guided the blind Œdipus to the +grove of the Eumenides, and discharged the funeral rites of Polynices; +such was Miranda in the unvisited cave of Prospero; such Haidee, on the +sands of the Ionian island. I was mad with excess of passionate +devotion; but pride, tameless as fire, invested my nature, and +prevented me from betraying myself by word or look. + +In the mean time, while I thus pampered myself with rich mental +repasts, a peasant would have disdained my scanty fare, which I +sometimes robbed from the squirrels of the forest. I was, I own, often +tempted to recur to the lawless feats of my boy-hood, and knock down +the almost tame pheasants that perched upon the trees, and bent their +bright eyes on me. But they were the property of Adrian, the nurslings +of Idris; and so, although my imagination rendered sensual by +privation, made me think that they would better become the spit in my +kitchen, than the green leaves of the forest, + + Nathelesse, +I checked my haughty will, and did not eat; + + +but supped upon sentiment, and dreamt vainly of “such morsels sweet,” +as I might not waking attain. + +But, at this period, the whole scheme of my existence was about to +change. The orphan and neglected son of Verney, was on the eve of being +linked to the mechanism of society by a golden chain, and to enter into +all the duties and affections of life. Miracles were to be wrought in +my favour, the machine of social life pushed with vast effort backward. +Attend, O reader! while I narrate this tale of wonders! + +One day as Adrian and Idris were riding through the forest, with their +mother and accustomed companions, Idris, drawing her brother aside from +the rest of the cavalcade, suddenly asked him, “What had become of his +friend, Lionel Verney?” + +“Even from this spot,” replied Adrian, pointing to my sister’s cottage, +“you can see his dwelling.” + +“Indeed!” said Idris, “and why, if he be so near, does he not come to +see us, and make one of our society?” + +“I often visit him,” replied Adrian; “but you may easily guess the +motives, which prevent him from coming where his presence may annoy any +one among us.” + +“I do guess them,” said Idris, “and such as they are, I would not +venture to combat them. Tell me, however, in what way he passes his +time; what he is doing and thinking in his cottage retreat?” + +“Nay, my sweet sister,” replied Adrian, “you ask me more than I can +well answer; but if you feel interest in him, why not visit him? He +will feel highly honoured, and thus you may repay a part of the +obligation I owe him, and compensate for the injuries fortune has done +him.” + +“I will most readily accompany you to his abode,” said the lady, “not +that I wish that either of us should unburthen ourselves of our debt, +which, being no less than your life, must remain unpayable ever. But +let us go; to-morrow we will arrange to ride out together, and +proceeding towards that part of the forest, call upon him.” + +The next evening therefore, though the autumnal change had brought on +cold and rain, Adrian and Idris entered my cottage. They found me +Curius-like, feasting on sorry fruits for supper; but they brought +gifts richer than the golden bribes of the Sabines, nor could I refuse +the invaluable store of friendship and delight which they bestowed. +Surely the glorious twins of Latona were not more welcome, when, in the +infancy of the world, they were brought forth to beautify and enlighten +this “sterile promontory,” than were this angelic pair to my lowly +dwelling and grateful heart. We sat like one family round my hearth. +Our talk was on subjects, unconnected with the emotions that evidently +occupied each; but we each divined the other’s thought, and as our +voices spoke of indifferent matters, our eyes, in mute language, told a +thousand things no tongue could have uttered. + +They left me in an hour’s time. They left me happy—how unspeakably +happy. It did not require the measured sounds of human language to +syllable the story of my extasy. Idris had visited me; Idris I should +again and again see—my imagination did not wander beyond the +completeness of this knowledge. I trod air; no doubt, no fear, no hope +even, disturbed me; I clasped with my soul the fulness of contentment, +satisfied, undesiring, beatified. + +For many days Adrian and Idris continued to visit me thus. In this dear +intercourse, love, in the guise of enthusiastic friendship, infused +more and more of his omnipotent spirit. Idris felt it. Yes, divinity of +the world, I read your characters in her looks and gesture; I heard +your melodious voice echoed by her—you prepared for us a soft and +flowery path, all gentle thoughts adorned it—your name, O Love, was not +spoken, but you stood the Genius of the Hour, veiled, and time, but no +mortal hand, might raise the curtain. Organs of articulate sound did +not proclaim the union of our hearts; for untoward circumstance allowed +no opportunity for the expression that hovered on our lips. Oh my pen! +haste thou to write what was, before the thought of what is, arrests +the hand that guides thee. If I lift up my eyes and see the desart +earth, and feel that those dear eyes have spent their mortal lustre, +and that those beauteous lips are silent, their “crimson leaves” faded, +for ever I am mute! + +But you live, my Idris, even now you move before me! There was a glade, +O reader! a grassy opening in the wood; the retiring trees left its +velvet expanse as a temple for love; the silver Thames bounded it on +one side, and a willow bending down dipt in the water its Naiad hair, +dishevelled by the wind’s viewless hand. The oaks around were the home +of a tribe of nightingales—there am I now; Idris, in youth’s dear +prime, is by my side —remember, I am just twenty-two, and seventeen +summers have scarcely passed over the beloved of my heart. The river +swollen by autumnal rains, deluged the low lands, and Adrian in his +favourite boat is employed in the dangerous pastime of plucking the +topmost bough from a submerged oak. Are you weary of life, O Adrian, +that you thus play with danger?— + +He has obtained his prize, and he pilots his boat through the flood; +our eyes were fixed on him fearfully, but the stream carried him away +from us; he was forced to land far lower down, and to make a +considerable circuit before he could join us. “He is safe!” said Idris, +as he leapt on shore, and waved the bough over his head in token of +success; “we will wait for him here.” + +We were alone together; the sun had set; the song of the nightingales +began; the evening star shone distinct in the flood of light, which was +yet unfaded in the west. The blue eyes of my angelic girl were fixed on +this sweet emblem of herself: “How the light palpitates,” she said, +“which is that star’s life. Its vacillating effulgence seems to say +that its state, even like ours upon earth, is wavering and inconstant; +it fears, methinks, and it loves.” + +“Gaze not on the star, dear, generous friend,” I cried, “read not love +in _its_ trembling rays; look not upon distant worlds; speak not of the +mere imagination of a sentiment. I have long been silent; long even to +sickness have I desired to speak to you, and submit my soul, my life, +my entire being to you. Look not on the star, dear love, or do, and let +that eternal spark plead for me; let it be my witness and my advocate, +silent as it shines—love is to me as light to the star; even so long as +that is uneclipsed by annihilation, so long shall I love you.” + +Veiled for ever to the world’s callous eye must be the transport of +that moment. Still do I feel her graceful form press against my +full-fraught heart—still does sight, and pulse, and breath sicken and +fail, at the remembrance of that first kiss. Slowly and silently we +went to meet Adrian, whom we heard approaching. + +I entreated Adrian to return to me after he had conducted his sister +home. And that same evening, walking among the moon-lit forest paths, I +poured forth my whole heart, its transport and its hope, to my friend. +For a moment he looked disturbed—“I might have foreseen this,” he said, +“what strife will now ensue! Pardon me, Lionel, nor wonder that the +expectation of contest with my mother should jar me, when else I should +delightedly confess that my best hopes are fulfilled, in confiding my +sister to your protection. If you do not already know it, you will soon +learn the deep hate my mother bears to the name Verney. I will converse +with Idris; then all that a friend can do, I will do; to her it must +belong to play the lover’s part, if she be capable of it.” + +While the brother and sister were still hesitating in what manner they +could best attempt to bring their mother over to their party, she, +suspecting our meetings, taxed her children with them; taxed her fair +daughter with deceit, and an unbecoming attachment for one whose only +merit was being the son of the profligate favourite of her imprudent +father; and who was doubtless as worthless as he from whom he boasted +his descent. The eyes of Idris flashed at this accusation; she replied, +“I do not deny that I love Verney; prove to me that he is worthless; +and I will never see him more.” + +“Dear Madam,” said Adrian, “let me entreat you to see him, to cultivate +his friendship. You will wonder then, as I do, at the extent of his +accomplishments, and the brilliancy of his talents.” (Pardon me, gentle +reader, this is not futile vanity;—not futile, since to know that +Adrian felt thus, brings joy even now to my lone heart). + +“Mad and foolish boy!” exclaimed the angry lady, “you have chosen with +dreams and theories to overthrow my schemes for your own +aggrandizement; but you shall not do the same by those I have formed +for your sister. I but too well understand the fascination you both +labour under; since I had the same struggle with your father, to make +him cast off the parent of this youth, who hid his evil propensities +with the smoothness and subtlety of a viper. In those days how often +did I hear of his attractions, his wide spread conquests, his wit, his +refined manners. It is well when flies only are caught by such spiders’ +webs; but is it for the high-born and powerful to bow their necks to +the flimsy yoke of these unmeaning pretensions? Were your sister indeed +the insignificant person she deserves to be, I would willingly leave +her to the fate, the wretched fate, of the wife of a man, whose very +person, resembling as it does his wretched father, ought to remind you +of the folly and vice it typifies—but remember, Lady Idris, it is not +alone the once royal blood of England that colours your veins, you are +a Princess of Austria, and every life-drop is akin to emperors and +kings. Are you then a fit mate for an uneducated shepherd-boy, whose +only inheritance is his father’s tarnished name?” + +“I can make but one defence,” replied Idris, “the same offered by my +brother; see Lionel, converse with my shepherd-boy”—-The Countess +interrupted her indignantly—“Yours!”—she cried: and then, smoothing her +impassioned features to a disdainful smile, she continued—“We will talk +of this another time. All I now ask, all your mother, Idris, requests +is, that you will not see this upstart during the interval of one +month.” + +“I dare not comply,” said Idris, “it would pain him too much. I have no +right to play with his feelings, to accept his proffered love, and then +sting him with neglect.” + +“This is going too far,” her mother answered, with quivering lips, and +eyes again instinct by anger. + +“Nay, Madam,” said Adrian, “unless my sister consent never to see him +again, it is surely an useless torment to separate them for a month.” + +“Certainly,” replied the ex-queen, with bitter scorn, “his love, and +her love, and both their childish flutterings, are to be put in fit +comparison with my years of hope and anxiety, with the duties of the +offspring of kings, with the high and dignified conduct which one of +her descent ought to pursue. But it is unworthy of me to argue and +complain. Perhaps you will have the goodness to promise me not to marry +during that interval?” + +This was asked only half ironically; and Idris wondered why her mother +should extort from her a solemn vow not to do, what she had never +dreamed of doing—but the promise was required and given. + +All went on cheerfully now; we met as usual, and talked without dread +of our future plans. The Countess was so gentle, and even beyond her +wont, amiable with her children, that they began to entertain hopes of +her ultimate consent. She was too unlike them, too utterly alien to +their tastes, for them to find delight in her society, or in the +prospect of its continuance, but it gave them pleasure to see her +conciliating and kind. Once even, Adrian ventured to propose her +receiving me. She refused with a smile, reminding him that for the +present his sister had promised to be patient. + +One day, after the lapse of nearly a month, Adrian received a letter +from a friend in London, requesting his immediate presence for the +furtherance of some important object. Guileless himself, Adrian feared +no deceit. I rode with him as far as Staines: he was in high spirits; +and, since I could not see Idris during his absence, he promised a +speedy return. His gaiety, which was extreme, had the strange effect of +awakening in me contrary feelings; a presentiment of evil hung over me; +I loitered on my return; I counted the hours that must elapse before I +saw Idris again. Wherefore should this be? What evil might not happen +in the mean time? Might not her mother take advantage of Adrian’s +absence to urge her beyond her sufferance, perhaps to entrap her? I +resolved, let what would befall, to see and converse with her the +following day. This determination soothed me. To-morrow, loveliest and +best, hope and joy of my life, to-morrow I will see thee—Fool, to dream +of a moment’s delay! + +I went to rest. At past midnight I was awaked by a violent knocking. It +was now deep winter; it had snowed, and was still snowing; the wind +whistled in the leafless trees, despoiling them of the white flakes as +they fell; its drear moaning, and the continued knocking, mingled +wildly with my dreams— at length I was wide awake; hastily dressing +myself, I hurried to discover the cause of this disturbance, and to +open my door to the unexpected visitor. Pale as the snow that showered +about her, with clasped hands, Idris stood before me. “Save me!” she +exclaimed, and would have sunk to the ground had I not supported her. +In a moment however she revived, and, with energy, almost with +violence, entreated me to saddle horses, to take her away, away to +London—to her brother—at least to save her. I had no horses—she wrung +her hands. “What can I do?” she cried, “I am lost—we are both for ever +lost! But come—come with me, Lionel; here I must not stay,—we can get a +chaise at the nearest post-house; yet perhaps we have time! come, O +come with me to save and protect me!” + +When I heard her piteous demands, while with disordered dress, +dishevelled hair, and aghast looks, she wrung her hands—the idea shot +across me is she also mad?—“Sweet one,” and I folded her to my heart, +“better repose than wander further;—rest—my beloved, I will make a +fire—you are chill.” + +“Rest!” she cried, “repose! you rave, Lionel! If you delay we are lost; +come, I pray you, unless you would cast me off for ever.” + +That Idris, the princely born, nursling of wealth and luxury, should +have come through the tempestuous winter-night from her regal abode, +and standing at my lowly door, conjure me to fly with her through +darkness and storm—was surely a dream—again her plaintive tones, the +sight of her loveliness assured me that it was no vision. Looking +timidly around, as if she feared to be overheard, she whispered: “I +have discovered—to-morrow —that is, to-day—already the to-morrow is +come—before dawn, foreigners, Austrians, my mother’s hirelings, are to +carry me off to Germany, to prison, to marriage—to anything, except you +and my brother —take me away, or soon they will be here!” + +I was frightened by her vehemence, and imagined some mistake in her +incoherent tale; but I no longer hesitated to obey her. She had come by +herself from the Castle, three long miles, at midnight, through the +heavy snow; we must reach Englefield Green, a mile and a half further, +before we could obtain a chaise. She told me, that she had kept up her +strength and courage till her arrival at my cottage, and then both +failed. Now she could hardly walk. Supporting her as I did, still she +lagged: and at the distance of half a mile, after many stoppages, +shivering fits, and half faintings, she slipt from my supporting arm on +the snow, and with a torrent of tears averred that she must be taken, +for that she could not proceed. I lifted her up in my arms; her light +form rested on my breast.—I felt no burthen, except the internal one of +contrary and contending emotions. Brimming delight now invested me. +Again her chill limbs touched me as a torpedo; and I shuddered in +sympathy with her pain and fright. Her head lay on my shoulder, her +breath waved my hair, her heart beat near mine, transport made me +tremble, blinded me, annihilated me—till a suppressed groan, bursting +from her lips, the chattering of her teeth, which she strove vainly to +subdue, and all the signs of suffering she evinced, recalled me to the +necessity of speed and succour. At last I said to her, “There is +Englefield Green; there the inn. But, if you are seen thus strangely +circumstanced, dear Idris, even now your enemies may learn your flight +too soon: were it not better that I hired the chaise alone? I will put +you in safety meanwhile, and return to you immediately.” + +She answered that I was right, and might do with her as I pleased. I +observed the door of a small out-house a-jar. I pushed it open; and, +with some hay strewed about, I formed a couch for her, placing her +exhausted frame on it, and covering her with my cloak. I feared to +leave her, she looked so wan and faint—but in a moment she re-acquired +animation, and, with that, fear; and again she implored me not to +delay. To call up the people of the inn, and obtain a conveyance and +horses, even though I harnessed them myself, was the work of many +minutes; minutes, each freighted with the weight of ages. I caused the +chaise to advance a little, waited till the people of the inn had +retired, and then made the post-boy draw up the carriage to the spot +where Idris, impatient, and now somewhat recovered, stood waiting for +me. I lifted her into the chaise; I assured her that with our four +horses we should arrive in London before five o’clock, the hour when +she would be sought and missed. I besought her to calm herself; a +kindly shower of tears relieved her, and by degrees she related her +tale of fear and peril. + +That same night after Adrian’s departure, her mother had warmly +expostulated with her on the subject of her attachment to me. Every +motive, every threat, every angry taunt was urged in vain. She seemed +to consider that through me she had lost Raymond; I was the evil +influence of her life; I was even accused of encreasing and confirming +the mad and base apostacy of Adrian from all views of advancement and +grandeur; and now this miserable mountaineer was to steal her daughter. +Never, Idris related, did the angry lady deign to recur to gentleness +and persuasion; if she had, the task of resistance would have been +exquisitely painful. As it was, the sweet girl’s generous nature was +roused to defend, and ally herself with, my despised cause. Her mother +ended with a look of contempt and covert triumph, which for a moment +awakened the suspicions of Idris. When they parted for the night, the +Countess said, “To-morrow I trust your tone will be changed: be +composed; I have agitated you; go to rest; and I will send you a +medicine I always take when unduly restless—it will give you a quiet +night.” + +By the time that she had with uneasy thoughts laid her fair cheek upon +her pillow, her mother’s servant brought a draught; a suspicion again +crossed her at this novel proceeding, sufficiently alarming to +determine her not to take the potion; but dislike of contention, and a +wish to discover whether there was any just foundation for her +conjectures, made her, she said, almost instinctively, and in +contradiction to her usual frankness, pretend to swallow the medicine. +Then, agitated as she had been by her mother’s violence, and now by +unaccustomed fears, she lay unable to sleep, starting at every sound. +Soon her door opened softly, and on her springing up, she heard a +whisper, “Not asleep yet,” and the door again closed. With a beating +heart she expected another visit, and when after an interval her +chamber was again invaded, having first assured herself that the +intruders were her mother and an attendant, she composed herself to +feigned sleep. A step approached her bed, she dared not move, she +strove to calm her palpitations, which became more violent, when she +heard her mother say mutteringly, “Pretty simpleton, little do you +think that your game is already at an end for ever.” + +For a moment the poor girl fancied that her mother believed that she +had drank poison: she was on the point of springing up; when the +Countess, already at a distance from the bed, spoke in a low voice to +her companion, and again Idris listened: “Hasten,” said she, “there is +no time to lose— it is long past eleven; they will be here at five; +take merely the clothes necessary for her journey, and her +jewel-casket.” The servant obeyed; few words were spoken on either +side; but those were caught at with avidity by the intended victim. She +heard the name of her own maid mentioned;—“No, no,” replied her mother, +“she does not go with us; Lady Idris must forget England, and all +belonging to it.” And again she heard, “She will not wake till late +to-morrow, and we shall then be at sea.”——“All is ready,” at length the +woman announced. The Countess again came to her daughter’s bedside: “In +Austria at least,” she said, “you will obey. In Austria, where +obedience can be enforced, and no choice left but between an honourable +prison and a fitting marriage.” + +Both then withdrew; though, as she went, the Countess said, “Softly; +all sleep; though all have not been prepared for sleep, like her. I +would not have any one suspect, or she might be roused to resistance, +and perhaps escape. Come with me to my room; we will remain there till +the hour agreed upon.” They went. Idris, panic-struck, but animated and +strengthened even by her excessive fear, dressed herself hurriedly, and +going down a flight of back-stairs, avoiding the vicinity of her +mother’s apartment, she contrived to escape from the castle by a low +window, and came through snow, wind, and obscurity to my cottage; nor +lost her courage, until she arrived, and, depositing her fate in my +hands, gave herself up to the desperation and weariness that +overwhelmed her. + +I comforted her as well as I might. Joy and exultation, were mine, to +possess, and to save her. Yet not to excite fresh agitation in her, +“_per non turbar quel bel viso sereno_,” I curbed my delight. I strove +to quiet the eager dancing of my heart; I turned from her my eyes, +beaming with too much tenderness, and proudly, to dark night, and the +inclement atmosphere, murmured the expressions of my transport. We +reached London, methought, all too soon; and yet I could not regret our +speedy arrival, when I witnessed the extasy with which my beloved girl +found herself in her brother’s arms, safe from every evil, under his +unblamed protection. + +Adrian wrote a brief note to his mother, informing her that Idris was +under his care and guardianship. Several days elapsed, and at last an +answer came, dated from Cologne. “It was useless,” the haughty and +disappointed lady wrote, “for the Earl of Windsor and his sister to +address again the injured parent, whose only expectation of +tranquillity must be derived from oblivion of their existence. Her +desires had been blasted, her schemes overthrown. She did not complain; +in her brother’s court she would find, not compensation for their +disobedience (filial unkindness admitted of none), but such a state of +things and mode of life, as might best reconcile her to her fate. Under +such circumstances, she positively declined any communication with +them.” + +Such were the strange and incredible events, that finally brought about +my union with the sister of my best friend, with my adored Idris. With +simplicity and courage she set aside the prejudices and opposition +which were obstacles to my happiness, nor scrupled to give her hand, +where she had given her heart. To be worthy of her, to raise myself to +her height through the exertion of talents and virtue, to repay her +love with devoted, unwearied tenderness, were the only thanks I could +offer for the matchless gift. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +And now let the reader, passing over some short period of time, be +introduced to our happy circle. Adrian, Idris and I, were established +in Windsor Castle; Lord Raymond and my sister, inhabited a house which +the former had built on the borders of the Great Park, near Perdita’s +cottage, as was still named the low-roofed abode, where we two, poor +even in hope, had each received the assurance of our felicity. We had +our separate occupations and our common amusements. Sometimes we passed +whole days under the leafy covert of the forest with our books and +music. This occurred during those rare days in this country, when the +sun mounts his etherial throne in unclouded majesty, and the windless +atmosphere is as a bath of pellucid and grateful water, wrapping the +senses in tranquillity. When the clouds veiled the sky, and the wind +scattered them there and here, rending their woof, and strewing its +fragments through the aerial plains—then we rode out, and sought new +spots of beauty and repose. When the frequent rains shut us within +doors, evening recreation followed morning study, ushered in by music +and song. Idris had a natural musical talent; and her voice, which had +been carefully cultivated, was full and sweet. Raymond and I made a +part of the concert, and Adrian and Perdita were devout listeners. Then +we were as gay as summer insects, playful as children; we ever met one +another with smiles, and read content and joy in each other’s +countenances. Our prime festivals were held in Perdita’s cottage; nor +were we ever weary of talking of the past or dreaming of the future. +Jealousy and disquiet were unknown among us; nor did a fear or hope of +change ever disturb our tranquillity. Others said, We might be happy—we +said—We are. + +When any separation took place between us, it generally so happened, +that Idris and Perdita would ramble away together, and we remained to +discuss the affairs of nations, and the philosophy of life. The very +difference of our dispositions gave zest to these conversations. Adrian +had the superiority in learning and eloquence; but Raymond possessed a +quick penetration, and a practical knowledge of life, which usually +displayed itself in opposition to Adrian, and thus kept up the ball of +discussion. At other times we made excursions of many days’ duration, +and crossed the country to visit any spot noted for beauty or +historical association. Sometimes we went up to London, and entered +into the amusements of the busy throng; sometimes our retreat was +invaded by visitors from among them. This change made us only the more +sensible to the delights of the intimate intercourse of our own circle, +the tranquillity of our divine forest, and our happy evenings in the +halls of our beloved Castle. + +The disposition of Idris was peculiarly frank, soft, and affectionate. +Her temper was unalterably sweet; and although firm and resolute on any +point that touched her heart, she was yielding to those she loved. The +nature of Perdita was less perfect; but tenderness and happiness +improved her temper, and softened her natural reserve. Her +understanding was clear and comprehensive, her imagination vivid; she +was sincere, generous, and reasonable. Adrian, the matchless brother of +my soul, the sensitive and excellent Adrian, loving all, and beloved by +all, yet seemed destined not to find the half of himself, which was to +complete his happiness. He often left us, and wandered by himself in +the woods, or sailed in his little skiff, his books his only +companions. He was often the gayest of our party, at the same time that +he was the only one visited by fits of despondency; his slender frame +seemed overcharged with the weight of life, and his soul appeared +rather to inhabit his body than unite with it. I was hardly more +devoted to my Idris than to her brother, and she loved him as her +teacher, her friend, the benefactor who had secured to her the +fulfilment of her dearest wishes. Raymond, the ambitious, restless +Raymond, reposed midway on the great high-road of life, and was content +to give up all his schemes of sovereignty and fame, to make one of us, +the flowers of the field. His kingdom was the heart of Perdita, his +subjects her thoughts; by her he was loved, respected as a superior +being, obeyed, waited on. No office, no devotion, no watching was +irksome to her, as it regarded him. She would sit apart from us and +watch him; she would weep for joy to think that he was hers. She +erected a temple for him in the depth of her being, and each faculty +was a priestess vowed to his service. Sometimes she might be wayward +and capricious; but her repentance was bitter, her return entire, and +even this inequality of temper suited him who was not formed by nature +to float idly down the stream of life. + +During the first year of their marriage, Perdita presented Raymond with +a lovely girl. It was curious to trace in this miniature model the very +traits of its father. The same half-disdainful lips and smile of +triumph, the same intelligent eyes, the same brow and chestnut hair; +her very hands and taper fingers resembled his. How very dear she was +to Perdita! In progress of time, I also became a father, and our little +darlings, our playthings and delights, called forth a thousand new and +delicious feelings. + +Years passed thus,—even years. Each month brought forth its successor, +each year one like to that gone by; truly, our lives were a living +comment on that beautiful sentiment of Plutarch, that “our souls have a +natural inclination to love, being born as much to love, as to feel, to +reason, to understand and remember.” We talked of change and active +pursuits, but still remained at Windsor, incapable of violating the +charm that attached us to our secluded life. + +Pareamo aver qui tutto il ben raccolto +Che fra mortali in più parte si rimembra. + + +Now also that our children gave us occupation, we found excuses for our +idleness, in the idea of bringing them up to a more splendid career. At +length our tranquillity was disturbed, and the course of events, which +for five years had flowed on in hushing tranquillity, was broken by +breakers and obstacles, that woke us from our pleasant dream. + +A new Lord Protector of England was to be chosen; and, at Raymond’s +request, we removed to London, to witness, and even take a part in the +election. If Raymond had been united to Idris, this post had been his +stepping-stone to higher dignity; and his desire for power and fame had +been crowned with fullest measure. He had exchanged a sceptre for a +lute, a kingdom for Perdita. + +Did he think of this as we journeyed up to town? I watched him, but +could make but little of him. He was particularly gay, playing with his +child, and turning to sport every word that was uttered. Perhaps he did +this because he saw a cloud upon Perdita’s brow. She tried to rouse +herself, but her eyes every now and then filled with tears, and she +looked wistfully on Raymond and her girl, as if fearful that some evil +would betide them. And so she felt. A presentiment of ill hung over +her. She leaned from the window looking on the forest, and the turrets +of the Castle, and as these became hid by intervening objects, she +passionately exclaimed—“Scenes of happiness! scenes sacred to devoted +love, when shall I see you again! and when I see ye, shall I be still +the beloved and joyous Perdita, or shall I, heart-broken and lost, +wander among your groves, the ghost of what I am!” + +“Why, silly one,” cried Raymond, “what is your little head pondering +upon, that of a sudden you have become so sublimely dismal? Cheer up, +or I shall make you over to Idris, and call Adrian into the carriage, +who, I see by his gesture, sympathizes with my good spirits.” + +Adrian was on horseback; he rode up to the carriage, and his gaiety, in +addition to that of Raymond, dispelled my sister’s melancholy. We +entered London in the evening, and went to our several abodes near Hyde +Park. + +The following morning Lord Raymond visited me early. “I come to you,” +he said, “only half assured that you will assist me in my project, but +resolved to go through with it, whether you concur with me or not. +Promise me secrecy however; for if you will not contribute to my +success, at least you must not baffle me.” + +“Well, I promise. And now—-” + +“And now, my dear fellow, for what are we come to London? To be present +at the election of a Protector, and to give our yea or nay for his +shuffling Grace of——? or for that noisy Ryland? Do you believe, Verney, +that I brought you to town for that? No, we will have a Protector of +our own. We will set up a candidate, and ensure his success. We will +nominate Adrian, and do our best to bestow on him the power to which he +is entitled by his birth, and which he merits through his virtues. + +“Do not answer; I know all your objections, and will reply to them in +order. First, Whether he will or will not consent to become a great +man? Leave the task of persuasion on that point to me; I do not ask you +to assist me there. Secondly, Whether he ought to exchange his +employment of plucking blackberries, and nursing wounded partridges in +the forest, for the command of a nation? My dear Lionel, we are married +men, and find employment sufficient in amusing our wives, and dancing +our children. But Adrian is alone, wifeless, childless, unoccupied. I +have long observed him. He pines for want of some interest in life. His +heart, exhausted by his early sufferings, reposes like a new-healed +limb, and shrinks from all excitement. But his understanding, his +charity, his virtues, want a field for exercise and display; and we +will procure it for him. Besides, is it not a shame, that the genius of +Adrian should fade from the earth like a flower in an untrod +mountain-path, fruitless? Do you think Nature composed his surpassing +machine for no purpose? Believe me, he was destined to be the author of +infinite good to his native England. Has she not bestowed on him every +gift in prodigality?—birth, wealth, talent, goodness? Does not every +one love and admire him? and does he not delight singly in such efforts +as manifest his love to all? Come, I see that you are already +persuaded, and will second me when I propose him to-night in +parliament.” + +“You have got up all your arguments in excellent order,” I replied; +“and, if Adrian consent, they are unanswerable. One only condition I +would make, —that you do nothing without his concurrence.” + +“I believe you are in the right,” said Raymond; “although I had thought +at first to arrange the affair differently. Be it so. I will go +instantly to Adrian; and, if he inclines to consent, you will not +destroy my labour by persuading him to return, and turn squirrel again +in Windsor Forest. Idris, you will not act the traitor towards me?” + +“Trust me,” replied she, “I will preserve a strict neutrality.” + +“For my part,” said I, “I am too well convinced of the worth of our +friend, and the rich harvest of benefits that all England would reap +from his Protectorship, to deprive my countrymen of such a blessing, if +he consent to bestow it on them.” + +In the evening Adrian visited us.—“Do you cabal also against me,” said +he, laughing; “and will you make common cause with Raymond, in dragging +a poor visionary from the clouds to surround him with the fire-works +and blasts of earthly grandeur, instead of heavenly rays and airs? I +thought you knew me better.” + +“I do know you better,” I replied “than to think that you would be +happy in such a situation; but the good you would do to others may be +an inducement, since the time is probably arrived when you can put your +theories into practice, and you may bring about such reformation and +change, as will conduce to that perfect system of government which you +delight to portray.” + +“You speak of an almost-forgotten dream,” said Adrian, his countenance +slightly clouding as he spoke; “the visions of my boyhood have long +since faded in the light of reality; I know now that I am not a man +fitted to govern nations; sufficient for me, if I keep in wholesome +rule the little kingdom of my own mortality. + +“But do not you see, Lionel, the drift of our noble friend; a drift, +perhaps, unknown to himself, but apparent to me. Lord Raymond was never +born to be a drone in the hive, and to find content in our pastoral +life. He thinks, that he ought to be satisfied; he imagines, that his +present situation precludes the possibility of aggrandisement; he does +not therefore, even in his own heart, plan change for himself. But do +you not see, that, under the idea of exalting me, he is chalking out a +new path for himself; a path of action from which he has long wandered? + +“Let us assist him. He, the noble, the warlike, the great in every +quality that can adorn the mind and person of man; he is fitted to be +the Protector of England. If _I_—that is, if _we_ propose him, he will +assuredly be elected, and will find, in the functions of that high +office, scope for the towering powers of his mind. Even Perdita will +rejoice. Perdita, in whom ambition was a covered fire until she married +Raymond, which event was for a time the fulfilment of her hopes; +Perdita will rejoice in the glory and advancement of her lord—and, +coyly and prettily, not be discontented with her share. In the mean +time, we, the wise of the land, will return to our Castle, and, +Cincinnatus-like, take to our usual labours, until our friend shall +require our presence and assistance here.” + +The more Adrian reasoned upon this scheme, the more feasible it +appeared. His own determination never to enter into public life was +insurmountable, and the delicacy of his health was a sufficient +argument against it. The next step was to induce Raymond to confess his +secret wishes for dignity and fame. He entered while we were speaking. +The way in which Adrian had received his project for setting him up as +a candidate for the Protectorship, and his replies, had already +awakened in his mind, the view of the subject which we were now +discussing. His countenance and manner betrayed irresolution and +anxiety; but the anxiety arose from a fear that we should not +prosecute, or not succeed in our idea; and his irresolution, from a +doubt whether we should risk a defeat. A few words from us decided him, +and hope and joy sparkled in his eyes; the idea of embarking in a +career, so congenial to his early habits and cherished wishes, made him +as before energetic and bold. We discussed his chances, the merits of +the other candidates, and the dispositions of the voters. + +After all we miscalculated. Raymond had lost much of his popularity, +and was deserted by his peculiar partizans. Absence from the busy stage +had caused him to be forgotten by the people; his former parliamentary +supporters were principally composed of royalists, who had been willing +to make an idol of him when he appeared as the heir of the Earldom of +Windsor; but who were indifferent to him, when he came forward with no +other attributes and distinctions than they conceived to be common to +many among themselves. Still he had many friends, admirers of his +transcendent talents; his presence in the house, his eloquence, address +and imposing beauty, were calculated to produce an electric effect. +Adrian also, notwithstanding his recluse habits and theories, so +adverse to the spirit of party, had many friends, and they were easily +induced to vote for a candidate of his selection. + +The Duke of——, and Mr. Ryland, Lord Raymond’s old antagonist, were the +other candidates. The Duke was supported by all the aristocrats of the +republic, who considered him their proper representative. Ryland was +the popular candidate; when Lord Raymond was first added to the list, +his chance of success appeared small. We retired from the debate which +had followed on his nomination: we, his nominators, mortified; he +dispirited to excess. Perdita reproached us bitterly. Her expectations +had been strongly excited; she had urged nothing against our project, +on the contrary, she was evidently pleased by it; but its evident ill +success changed the current of her ideas. She felt, that, once +awakened, Raymond would never return unrepining to Windsor. His habits +were unhinged; his restless mind roused from its sleep, ambition must +now be his companion through life; and if he did not succeed in his +present attempt, she foresaw that unhappiness and cureless discontent +would follow. Perhaps her own disappointment added a sting to her +thoughts and words; she did not spare us, and our own reflections added +to our disquietude. + +It was necessary to follow up our nomination, and to persuade Raymond +to present himself to the electors on the following evening. For a long +time he was obstinate. He would embark in a balloon; he would sail for +a distant quarter of the world, where his name and humiliation were +unknown. But this was useless; his attempt was registered; his purpose +published to the world; his shame could never be erased from the +memories of men. It was as well to fail at last after a struggle, as to +fly now at the beginning of his enterprise. + +From the moment that he adopted this idea, he was changed. His +depression and anxiety fled; he became all life and activity. The smile +of triumph shone on his countenance; determined to pursue his object to +the uttermost, his manner and expression seem ominous of the +accomplishment of his wishes. Not so Perdita. She was frightened by his +gaiety, for she dreaded a greater revulsion at the end. If his +appearance even inspired us with hope, it only rendered the state of +her mind more painful. She feared to lose sight of him; yet she dreaded +to remark any change in the temper of his mind. She listened eagerly to +him, yet tantalized herself by giving to his words a meaning foreign to +their true interpretation, and adverse to her hopes. She dared not be +present at the contest; yet she remained at home a prey to double +solicitude. She wept over her little girl; she looked, she spoke, as if +she dreaded the occurrence of some frightful calamity. She was half mad +from the effects of uncontrollable agitation. + +Lord Raymond presented himself to the house with fearless confidence +and insinuating address. After the Duke of——and Mr. Ryland had finished +their speeches, he commenced. Assuredly he had not conned his lesson; +and at first he hesitated, pausing in his ideas, and in the choice of +his expressions. By degrees he warmed; his words flowed with ease, his +language was full of vigour, and his voice of persuasion. He reverted +to his past life, his successes in Greece, his favour at home. Why +should he lose this, now that added years, prudence, and the pledge +which his marriage gave to his country, ought to encrease, rather than +diminish his claims to confidence? He spoke of the state of England; +the necessary measures to be taken to ensure its security, and confirm +its prosperity. He drew a glowing picture of its present situation. As +he spoke, every sound was hushed, every thought suspended by intense +attention. His graceful elocution enchained the senses of his hearers. +In some degree also he was fitted to reconcile all parties. His birth +pleased the aristocracy; his being the candidate recommended by Adrian, +a man intimately allied to the popular party, caused a number, who had +no great reliance either on the Duke or Mr. Ryland, to range on his +side. + +The contest was keen and doubtful. Neither Adrian nor myself would have +been so anxious, if our own success had depended on our exertions; but +we had egged our friend on to the enterprise, and it became us to +ensure his triumph. Idris, who entertained the highest opinion of his +abilities, was warmly interested in the event: and my poor sister, who +dared not hope, and to whom fear was misery, was plunged into a fever +of disquietude. + +Day after day passed while we discussed our projects for the evening, +and each night was occupied by debates which offered no conclusion. At +last the crisis came: the night when parliament, which had so long +delayed its choice, must decide: as the hour of twelve passed, and the +new day began, it was by virtue of the constitution dissolved, its +power extinct. + +We assembled at Raymond’s house, we and our partizans. At half past +five o’clock we proceeded to the House. Idris endeavoured to calm +Perdita; but the poor girl’s agitation deprived her of all power of +self-command. She walked up and down the room,—gazed wildly when any +one entered, fancying that they might be the announcers of her doom. I +must do justice to my sweet sister: it was not for herself that she was +thus agonized. She alone knew the weight which Raymond attached to his +success. Even to us he assumed gaiety and hope, and assumed them so +well, that we did not divine the secret workings of his mind. Sometimes +a nervous trembling, a sharp dissonance of voice, and momentary fits of +absence revealed to Perdita the violence he did himself; but we, intent +on our plans, observed only his ready laugh, his joke intruded on all +occasions, the flow of his spirits which seemed incapable of ebb. +Besides, Perdita was with him in his retirement; she saw the moodiness +that succeeded to this forced hilarity; she marked his disturbed sleep, +his painful irritability—once she had seen his tears—hers had scarce +ceased to flow, since she had beheld the big drops which disappointed +pride had caused to gather in his eye, but which pride was unable to +dispel. What wonder then, that her feelings were wrought to this pitch! +I thus accounted to myself for her agitation; but this was not all, and +the sequel revealed another excuse. + +One moment we seized before our departure, to take leave of our beloved +girls. I had small hope of success, and entreated Idris to watch over +my sister. As I approached the latter, she seized my hand, and drew me +into another apartment; she threw herself into my arms, and wept and +sobbed bitterly and long. I tried to soothe her; I bade her hope; I +asked what tremendous consequences would ensue even on our failure. “My +brother,” she cried, “protector of my childhood, dear, most dear +Lionel, my fate hangs by a thread. I have you all about me now—you, the +companion of my infancy; Adrian, as dear to me as if bound by the ties +of blood; Idris, the sister of my heart, and her lovely offspring. +This, O this may be the last time that you will surround me thus!” + +Abruptly she stopped, and then cried: “What have I said?—foolish false +girl that I am!” She looked wildly on me, and then suddenly calming +herself, apologized for what she called her unmeaning words, saying +that she must indeed be insane, for, while Raymond lived, she must be +happy; and then, though she still wept, she suffered me tranquilly to +depart. Raymond only took her hand when he went, and looked on her +expressively; she answered by a look of intelligence and assent. + +Poor girl! what she then suffered! I could never entirely forgive +Raymond for the trials he imposed on her, occasioned as they were by a +selfish feeling on his part. He had schemed, if he failed in his +present attempt, without taking leave of any of us, to embark for +Greece, and never again to revisit England. Perdita acceded to his +wishes; for his contentment was the chief object of her life, the crown +of her enjoyment; but to leave us all, her companions, the beloved +partners of her happiest years, and in the interim to conceal this +frightful determination, was a task that almost conquered her strength +of mind. She had been employed in arranging for their departure; she +had promised Raymond during this decisive evening, to take advantage of +our absence, to go one stage of the journey, and he, after his defeat +was ascertained, would slip away from us, and join her. + +Although, when I was informed of this scheme, I was bitterly offended +by the small attention which Raymond paid to my sister’s feelings, I +was led by reflection to consider, that he acted under the force of +such strong excitement, as to take from him the consciousness, and, +consequently, the guilt of a fault. If he had permitted us to witness +his agitation, he would have been more under the guidance of reason; +but his struggles for the shew of composure, acted with such violence +on his nerves, as to destroy his power of self-command. I am convinced +that, at the worst, he would have returned from the seashore to take +leave of us, and to make us the partners of his council. But the task +imposed on Perdita was not the less painful. He had extorted from her a +vow of secrecy; and her part of the drama, since it was to be performed +alone, was the most agonizing that could be devised. But to return to +my narrative. + +The debates had hitherto been long and loud; they had often been +protracted merely for the sake of delay. But now each seemed fearful +lest the fatal moment should pass, while the choice was yet undecided. +Unwonted silence reigned in the house, the members spoke in whispers, +and the ordinary business was transacted with celerity and quietness. +During the first stage of the election, the Duke of——had been thrown +out; the question therefore lay between Lord Raymond and Mr. Ryland. +The latter had felt secure of victory, until the appearance of Raymond; +and, since his name had been inserted as a candidate, he had canvassed +with eagerness. He had appeared each evening, impatience and anger +marked in his looks, scowling on us from the opposite side of St. +Stephen’s, as if his mere frown would cast eclipse on our hopes. + +Every thing in the English constitution had been regulated for the +better preservation of peace. On the last day, two candidates only were +allowed to remain; and to obviate, if possible, the last struggle +between these, a bribe was offered to him who should voluntarily resign +his pretensions; a place of great emolument and honour was given him, +and his success facilitated at a future election. Strange to say +however, no instance had yet occurred, where either candidate had had +recourse to this expedient; in consequence the law had become obsolete, +nor had been referred to by any of us in our discussions. To our +extreme surprise, when it was moved that we should resolve ourselves +into a committee for the election of the Lord Protector, the member who +had nominated Ryland, rose and informed us that this candidate had +resigned his pretensions. His information was at first received with +silence; a confused murmur succeeded; and, when the chairman declared +Lord Raymond duly chosen, it amounted to a shout of applause and +victory. It seemed as if, far from any dread of defeat even if Mr. +Ryland had not resigned, every voice would have been united in favour +of our candidate. In fact, now that the idea of contest was dismissed, +all hearts returned to their former respect and admiration of our +accomplished friend. Each felt, that England had never seen a Protector +so capable of fulfilling the arduous duties of that high office. One +voice made of many voices, resounded through the chamber; it syllabled +the name of Raymond. + +He entered. I was on one of the highest seats, and saw him walk up the +passage to the table of the speaker. The native modesty of his +disposition conquered the joy of his triumph. He looked round timidly; +a mist seemed before his eyes. Adrian, who was beside me, hastened to +him, and jumping down the benches, was at his side in a moment. His +appearance re-animated our friend; and, when he came to speak and act, +his hesitation vanished, and he shone out supreme in majesty and +victory. The former Protector tendered him the oaths, and presented him +with the insignia of office, performing the ceremonies of installation. +The house then dissolved. The chief members of the state crowded round +the new magistrate, and conducted him to the palace of government. +Adrian suddenly vanished; and, by the time that Raymond’s supporters +were reduced to our intimate friends merely, returned leading Idris to +congratulate her friend on his success. + +But where was Perdita? In securing solicitously an unobserved retreat +in case of failure, Raymond had forgotten to arrange the mode by which +she was to hear of his success; and she had been too much agitated to +revert to this circumstance. When Idris entered, so far had Raymond +forgotten himself, that he asked for my sister; one word, which told of +her mysterious disappearance, recalled him. Adrian it is true had +already gone to seek the fugitive, imagining that her tameless anxiety +had led her to the purlieus of the House, and that some sinister event +detained her. But Raymond, without explaining himself, suddenly quitted +us, and in another moment we heard him gallop down the street, in spite +of the wind and rain that scattered tempest over the earth. We did not +know how far he had to go, and soon separated, supposing that in a +short time he would return to the palace with Perdita, and that they +would not be sorry to find themselves alone. + +Perdita had arrived with her child at Dartford, weeping and +inconsolable. She directed everything to be prepared for the +continuance of their journey, and placing her lovely sleeping charge on +a bed, passed several hours in acute suffering. Sometimes she observed +the war of elements, thinking that they also declared against her, and +listened to the pattering of the rain in gloomy despair. Sometimes she +hung over her child, tracing her resemblance to the father, and fearful +lest in after life she should display the same passions and +uncontrollable impulses, that rendered him unhappy. Again, with a gush +of pride and delight, she marked in the features of her little girl, +the same smile of beauty that often irradiated Raymond’s countenance. +The sight of it soothed her. She thought of the treasure she possessed +in the affections of her lord; of his accomplishments, surpassing those +of his contemporaries, his genius, his devotion to her.—Soon she +thought, that all she possessed in the world, except him, might well be +spared, nay, given with delight, a propitiatory offering, to secure the +supreme good she retained in him. Soon she imagined, that fate demanded +this sacrifice from her, as a mark she was devoted to Raymond, and that +it must be made with cheerfulness. She figured to herself their life in +the Greek isle he had selected for their retreat; her task of soothing +him; her cares for the beauteous Clara, her rides in his company, her +dedication of herself to his consolation. The picture then presented +itself to her in such glowing colours, that she feared the reverse, and +a life of magnificence and power in London; where Raymond would no +longer be hers only, nor she the sole source of happiness to him. So +far as she merely was concerned, she began to hope for defeat; and it +was only on his account that her feelings vacillated, as she heard him +gallop into the court-yard of the inn. That he should come to her +alone, wetted by the storm, careless of every thing except speed, what +else could it mean, than that, vanquished and solitary, they were to +take their way from native England, the scene of shame, and hide +themselves in the myrtle groves of the Grecian isles? + +In a moment she was in his arms. The knowledge of his success had +become so much a part of himself, that he forgot that it was necessary +to impart it to his companion. She only felt in his embrace a dear +assurance that while he possessed her, he would not despair. “This is +kind,” she cried; “this is noble, my own beloved! O fear not disgrace +or lowly fortune, while you have your Perdita; fear not sorrow, while +our child lives and smiles. Let us go even where you will; the love +that accompanies us will prevent our regrets.” + +Locked in his embrace, she spoke thus, and cast back her head, seeking +an assent to her words in his eyes—they were sparkling with ineffable +delight. “Why, my little Lady Protectress,” said he, playfully, “what +is this you say? And what pretty scheme have you woven of exile and +obscurity, while a brighter web, a gold-enwoven tissue, is that which, +in truth, you ought to contemplate?” + +He kissed her brow—but the wayward girl, half sorry at his triumph, +agitated by swift change of thought, hid her face in his bosom and +wept. He comforted her; he instilled into her his own hopes and +desires; and soon her countenance beamed with sympathy. How very happy +were they that night! How full even to bursting was their sense of joy! + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Having seen our friend properly installed in his new office, we turned +our eyes towards Windsor. The nearness of this place to London was +such, as to take away the idea of painful separation, when we quitted +Raymond and Perdita. We took leave of them in the Protectoral Palace. +It was pretty enough to see my sister enter as it were into the spirit +of the drama, and endeavour to fill her station with becoming dignity. +Her internal pride and humility of manner were now more than ever at +war. Her timidity was not artificial, but arose from that fear of not +being properly appreciated, that slight estimation of the neglect of +the world, which also characterized Raymond. But then Perdita thought +more constantly of others than he; and part of her bashfulness arose +from a wish to take from those around her a sense of inferiority; a +feeling which never crossed her mind. From the circumstances of her +birth and education, Idris would have been better fitted for the +formulae of ceremony; but the very ease which accompanied such actions +with her, arising from habit, rendered them tedious; while, with every +drawback, Perdita evidently enjoyed her situation. She was too full of +new ideas to feel much pain when we departed; she took an affectionate +leave of us, and promised to visit us soon; but she did not regret the +circumstances that caused our separation. The spirits of Raymond were +unbounded; he did not know what to do with his new got power; his head +was full of plans; he had as yet decided on none— but he promised +himself, his friends, and the world, that the aera of his Protectorship +should be signalized by some act of surpassing glory. Thus, we talked +of them, and moralized, as with diminished numbers we returned to +Windsor Castle. We felt extreme delight at our escape from political +turmoil, and sought our solitude with redoubled zest. We did not want +for occupation; but my eager disposition was now turned to the field of +intellectual exertion only; and hard study I found to be an excellent +medicine to allay a fever of spirit with which in indolence, I should +doubtless have been assailed. Perdita had permitted us to take Clara +back with us to Windsor; and she and my two lovely infants were +perpetual sources of interest and amusement. + +The only circumstance that disturbed our peace, was the health of +Adrian. It evidently declined, without any symptom which could lead us +to suspect his disease, unless indeed his brightened eyes, animated +look, and flustering cheeks, made us dread consumption; but he was +without pain or fear. He betook himself to books with ardour, and +reposed from study in the society he best loved, that of his sister and +myself. Sometimes he went up to London to visit Raymond, and watch the +progress of events. Clara often accompanied him in these excursions; +partly that she might see her parents, partly because Adrian delighted +in the prattle, and intelligent looks of this lovely child. + +Meanwhile all went on well in London. The new elections were finished; +parliament met, and Raymond was occupied in a thousand beneficial +schemes. Canals, aqueducts, bridges, stately buildings, and various +edifices for public utility, were entered upon; he was continually +surrounded by projectors and projects, which were to render England one +scene of fertility and magnificence; the state of poverty was to be +abolished; men were to be transported from place to place almost with +the same facility as the Princes Houssain, Ali, and Ahmed, in the +Arabian Nights. The physical state of man would soon not yield to the +beatitude of angels; disease was to be banished; labour lightened of +its heaviest burden. Nor did this seem extravagant. The arts of life, +and the discoveries of science had augmented in a ratio which left all +calculation behind; food sprung up, so to say, spontaneously—machines +existed to supply with facility every want of the population. An evil +direction still survived; and men were not happy, not because they +could not, but because they would not rouse themselves to vanquish +self-raised obstacles. Raymond was to inspire them with his beneficial +will, and the mechanism of society, once systematised according to +faultless rules, would never again swerve into disorder. For these +hopes he abandoned his long-cherished ambition of being enregistered in +the annals of nations as a successful warrior; laying aside his sword, +peace and its enduring glories became his aim—the title he coveted was +that of the benefactor of his country. + +Among other works of art in which he was engaged, he had projected the +erection of a national gallery for statues and pictures. He possessed +many himself, which he designed to present to the Republic; and, as the +edifice was to be the great ornament of his Protectorship, he was very +fastidious in his choice of the plan on which it would be built. +Hundreds were brought to him and rejected. He sent even to Italy and +Greece for drawings; but, as the design was to be characterized by +originality as well as by perfect beauty, his endeavours were for a +time without avail. At length a drawing came, with an address where +communications might be sent, and no artist’s name affixed. The design +was new and elegant, but faulty; so faulty, that although drawn with +the hand and eye of taste, it was evidently the work of one who was not +an architect. Raymond contemplated it with delight; the more he gazed, +the more pleased he was; and yet the errors multiplied under +inspection. He wrote to the address given, desiring to see the +draughtsman, that such alterations might be made, as should be +suggested in a consultation between him and the original conceiver. + +A Greek came. A middle-aged man, with some intelligence of manner, but +with so common-place a physiognomy, that Raymond could scarcely believe +that he was the designer. He acknowledged that he was not an architect; +but the idea of the building had struck him, though he had sent it +without the smallest hope of its being accepted. He was a man of few +words. Raymond questioned him; but his reserved answers soon made him +turn from the man to the drawing. He pointed out the errors, and the +alterations that he wished to be made; he offered the Greek a pencil +that he might correct the sketch on the spot; this was refused by his +visitor, who said that he perfectly understood, and would work at it at +home. At length Raymond suffered him to depart. + +The next day he returned. The design had been re-drawn; but many +defects still remained, and several of the instructions given had been +misunderstood. “Come,” said Raymond, “I yielded to you yesterday, now +comply with my request—take the pencil.” + +The Greek took it, but he handled it in no artist-like way; at length +he said: “I must confess to you, my Lord, that I did not make this +drawing. It is impossible for you to see the real designer; your +instructions must pass through me. Condescend therefore to have +patience with my ignorance, and to explain your wishes to me; in time I +am certain that you will be satisfied.” + +Raymond questioned vainly; the mysterious Greek would say no more. +Would an architect be permitted to see the artist? This also was +refused. Raymond repeated his instructions, and the visitor retired. +Our friend resolved however not to be foiled in his wish. He suspected, +that unaccustomed poverty was the cause of the mystery, and that the +artist was unwilling to be seen in the garb and abode of want. Raymond +was only the more excited by this consideration to discover him; +impelled by the interest he took in obscure talent, he therefore +ordered a person skilled in such matters, to follow the Greek the next +time he came, and observe the house in which he should enter. His +emissary obeyed, and brought the desired intelligence. He had traced +the man to one of the most penurious streets in the metropolis. Raymond +did not wonder, that, thus situated, the artist had shrunk from notice, +but he did not for this alter his resolve. + +On the same evening, he went alone to the house named to him. Poverty, +dirt, and squalid misery characterized its appearance. Alas! thought +Raymond, I have much to do before England becomes a Paradise. He +knocked; the door was opened by a string from above—the broken, +wretched staircase was immediately before him, but no person appeared; +he knocked again, vainly—and then, impatient of further delay, he +ascended the dark, creaking stairs. His main wish, more particularly +now that he witnessed the abject dwelling of the artist, was to relieve +one, possessed of talent, but depressed by want. He pictured to himself +a youth, whose eyes sparkled with genius, whose person was attenuated +by famine. He half feared to displease him; but he trusted that his +generous kindness would be administered so delicately, as not to excite +repulse. What human heart is shut to kindness? and though poverty, in +its excess, might render the sufferer unapt to submit to the supposed +degradation of a benefit, the zeal of the benefactor must at last relax +him into thankfulness. These thoughts encouraged Raymond, as he stood +at the door of the highest room of the house. After trying vainly to +enter the other apartments, he perceived just within the threshold of +this one, a pair of small Turkish slippers; the door was ajar, but all +was silent within. It was probable that the inmate was absent, but +secure that he had found the right person, our adventurous Protector +was tempted to enter, to leave a purse on the table, and silently +depart. In pursuance of this idea, he pushed open the door gently—but +the room was inhabited. + +Raymond had never visited the dwellings of want, and the scene that now +presented itself struck him to the heart. The floor was sunk in many +places; the walls ragged and bare—the ceiling weather-stained—a +tattered bed stood in the corner; there were but two chairs in the +room, and a rough broken table, on which was a light in a tin +candlestick;—yet in the midst of such drear and heart sickening +poverty, there was an air of order and cleanliness that surprised him. +The thought was fleeting; for his attention was instantly drawn towards +the inhabitant of this wretched abode. It was a female. She sat at the +table; one small hand shaded her eyes from the candle; the other held a +pencil; her looks were fixed on a drawing before her, which Raymond +recognized as the design presented to him. Her whole appearance +awakened his deepest interest. Her dark hair was braided and twined in +thick knots like the head-dress of a Grecian statue; her garb was mean, +but her attitude might have been selected as a model of grace. Raymond +had a confused remembrance that he had seen such a form before; he +walked across the room; she did not raise her eyes, merely asking in +Romaic, who is there? “A friend,” replied Raymond in the same dialect. +She looked up wondering, and he saw that it was Evadne Zaimi. Evadne, +once the idol of Adrian’s affections; and who, for the sake of her +present visitor, had disdained the noble youth, and then, neglected by +him she loved, with crushed hopes and a stinging sense of misery, had +returned to her native Greece. What revolution of fortune could have +brought her to England, and housed her thus? + +Raymond recognized her; and his manner changed from polite beneficence +to the warmest protestations of kindness and sympathy. The sight of +her, in her present situation, passed like an arrow into his soul. He +sat by her, he took her hand, and said a thousand things which breathed +the deepest spirit of compassion and affection. Evadne did not answer; +her large dark eyes were cast down, at length a tear glimmered on the +lashes. “Thus,” she cried, “kindness can do, what no want, no misery +ever effected; I weep.” She shed indeed many tears; her head sunk +unconsciously on the shoulder of Raymond; he held her hand: he kissed +her sunken tear-stained cheek. He told her, that her sufferings were +now over: no one possessed the art of consoling like Raymond; he did +not reason or declaim, but his look shone with sympathy; he brought +pleasant images before the sufferer; his caresses excited no distrust, +for they arose purely from the feeling which leads a mother to kiss her +wounded child; a desire to demonstrate in every possible way the truth +of his feelings, and the keenness of his wish to pour balm into the +lacerated mind of the unfortunate. As Evadne regained her composure, +his manner became even gay; he sported with the idea of her poverty. +Something told him that it was not its real evils that lay heavily at +her heart, but the debasement and disgrace attendant on it; as he +talked, he divested it of these; sometimes speaking of her fortitude +with energetic praise; then, alluding to her past state, he called her +his Princess in disguise. He made her warm offers of service; she was +too much occupied by more engrossing thoughts, either to accept or +reject them; at length he left her, making a promise to repeat his +visit the next day. He returned home, full of mingled feelings, of pain +excited by Evadne’s wretchedness, and pleasure at the prospect of +relieving it. Some motive for which he did not account, even to +himself, prevented him from relating his adventure to Perdita. + +The next day he threw such disguise over his person as a cloak +afforded, and revisited Evadne. As he went, he bought a basket of +costly fruits, such as were natives of her own country, and throwing +over these various beautiful flowers, bore it himself to the miserable +garret of his friend. “Behold,” cried he, as he entered, “what bird’s +food I have brought for my sparrow on the house-top.” + +Evadne now related the tale of her misfortunes. Her father, though of +high rank, had in the end dissipated his fortune, and even destroyed +his reputation and influence through a course of dissolute indulgence. +His health was impaired beyond hope of cure; and it became his earnest +wish, before he died, to preserve his daughter from the poverty which +would be the portion of her orphan state. He therefore accepted for +her, and persuaded her to accede to, a proposal of marriage, from a +wealthy Greek merchant settled at Constantinople. She quitted her +native Greece; her father died; by degrees she was cut off from all the +companions and ties of her youth. + +The war, which about a year before the present time had broken out +between Greece and Turkey, brought about many reverses of fortune. Her +husband became bankrupt, and then in a tumult and threatened massacre +on the part of the Turks, they were obliged to fly at midnight, and +reached in an open boat an English vessel under sail, which brought +them immediately to this island. The few jewels they had saved, +supported them awhile. The whole strength of Evadne’s mind was exerted +to support the failing spirits of her husband. Loss of property, +hopelessness as to his future prospects, the inoccupation to which +poverty condemned him, combined to reduce him to a state bordering on +insanity. Five months after their arrival in England, he committed +suicide. + +“You will ask me,” continued Evadne, “what I have done since; why I +have not applied for succour to the rich Greeks resident here; why I +have not returned to my native country? My answer to these questions +must needs appear to you unsatisfactory, yet they have sufficed to lead +me on, day after day, enduring every wretchedness, rather than by such +means to seek relief. Shall the daughter of the noble, though prodigal +Zaimi, appear a beggar before her compeers or inferiors—superiors she +had none. Shall I bow my head before them, and with servile gesture +sell my nobility for life? Had I a child, or any tie to bind me to +existence, I might descend to this—but, as it is—the world has been to +me a harsh step-mother; fain would I leave the abode she seems to +grudge, and in the grave forget my pride, my struggles, my despair. The +time will soon come; grief and famine have already sapped the +foundations of my being; a very short time, and I shall have passed +away; unstained by the crime of self-destruction, unstung by the memory +of degradation, my spirit will throw aside the miserable coil, and find +such recompense as fortitude and resignation may deserve. This may seem +madness to you, yet you also have pride and resolution; do not then +wonder that my pride is tameless, my resolution unalterable.” + +Having thus finished her tale, and given such an account as she deemed +fit, of the motives of her abstaining from all endeavour to obtain aid +from her countrymen, Evadne paused; yet she seemed to have more to say, +to which she was unable to give words. In the mean time Raymond was +eloquent. His desire of restoring his lovely friend to her rank in +society, and to her lost prosperity, animated him, and he poured forth +with energy, all his wishes and intentions on that subject. But he was +checked; Evadne exacted a promise, that he should conceal from all her +friends her existence in England. “The relatives of the Earl of +Windsor,” said she haughtily, “doubtless think that I injured him; +perhaps the Earl himself would be the first to acquit me, but probably +I do not deserve acquittal. I acted then, as I ever must, from impulse. +This abode of penury may at least prove the disinterestedness of my +conduct. No matter: I do not wish to plead my cause before any of them, +not even before your Lordship, had you not first discovered me. The +tenor of my actions will prove that I had rather die, than be a mark +for scorn—behold the proud Evadne in her tatters! look on the +beggar-princess! There is aspic venom in the thought—promise me that my +secret shall not be violated by you.” + +Raymond promised; but then a new discussion ensued. Evadne required +another engagement on his part, that he would not without her +concurrence enter into any project for her benefit, nor himself offer +relief. “Do not degrade me in my own eyes,” she said; “poverty has long +been my nurse; hard-visaged she is, but honest. If dishonour, or what I +conceive to be dishonour, come near me, I am lost.” Raymond adduced +many arguments and fervent persuasions to overcome her feeling, but she +remained unconvinced; and, agitated by the discussion, she wildly and +passionately made a solemn vow, to fly and hide herself where he never +could discover her, where famine would soon bring death to conclude her +woes, if he persisted in his to her disgracing offers. She could +support herself, she said. And then she shewed him how, by executing +various designs and paintings, she earned a pittance for her support. +Raymond yielded for the present. He felt assured, after he had for +awhile humoured her self-will, that in the end friendship and reason +would gain the day. + +But the feelings that actuated Evadne were rooted in the depths of her +being, and were such in their growth as he had no means of +understanding. Evadne loved Raymond. He was the hero of her +imagination, the image carved by love in the unchanged texture of her +heart. Seven years ago, in her youthful prime, she had become attached +to him; he had served her country against the Turks; he had in her own +land acquired that military glory peculiarly dear to the Greeks, since +they were still obliged inch by inch to fight for their security. Yet +when he returned thence, and first appeared in public life in England, +her love did not purchase his, which then vacillated between Perdita +and a crown. While he was yet undecided, she had quitted England; the +news of his marriage reached her, and her hopes, poorly nurtured +blossoms, withered and fell. The glory of life was gone for her; the +roseate halo of love, which had imbued every object with its own +colour, faded;—she was content to take life as it was, and to make the +best of leaden-coloured reality. She married; and, carrying her +restless energy of character with her into new scenes, she turned her +thoughts to ambition, and aimed at the title and power of Princess of +Wallachia; while her patriotic feelings were soothed by the idea of the +good she might do her country, when her husband should be chief of this +principality. She lived to find ambition, as unreal a delusion as love. +Her intrigues with Russia for the furtherance of her object, excited +the jealousy of the Porte, and the animosity of the Greek government. +She was considered a traitor by both, the ruin of her husband followed; +they avoided death by a timely flight, and she fell from the height of +her desires to penury in England. Much of this tale she concealed from +Raymond; nor did she confess, that repulse and denial, as to a criminal +convicted of the worst of crimes, that of bringing the scythe of +foreign despotism to cut away the new springing liberties of her +country, would have followed her application to any among the Greeks. + +She knew that she was the cause of her husband’s utter ruin; and she +strung herself to bear the consequences. The reproaches which agony +extorted; or worse, cureless, uncomplaining depression, when his mind +was sunk in a torpor, not the less painful because it was silent and +moveless. She reproached herself with the crime of his death; guilt and +its punishments appeared to surround her; in vain she endeavoured to +allay remorse by the memory of her real integrity; the rest of the +world, and she among them, judged of her actions, by their +consequences. She prayed for her husband’s soul; she conjured the +Supreme to place on her head the crime of his self-destruction—she +vowed to live to expiate his fault. + +In the midst of such wretchedness as must soon have destroyed her, one +thought only was matter of consolation. She lived in the same country, +breathed the same air as Raymond. His name as Protector was the burthen +of every tongue; his achievements, projects, and magnificence, the +argument of every story. Nothing is so precious to a woman’s heart as +the glory and excellence of him she loves; thus in every horror Evadne +revelled in his fame and prosperity. While her husband lived, this +feeling was regarded by her as a crime, repressed, repented of. When he +died, the tide of love resumed its ancient flow, it deluged her soul +with its tumultuous waves, and she gave herself up a prey to its +uncontrollable power. + +But never, O, never, should he see her in her degraded state. Never +should he behold her fallen, as she deemed, from her pride of beauty, +the poverty-stricken inhabitant of a garret, with a name which had +become a reproach, and a weight of guilt on her soul. But though +impenetrably veiled from him, his public office permitted her to become +acquainted with all his actions, his daily course of life, even his +conversation. She allowed herself one luxury, she saw the newspapers +every day, and feasted on the praise and actions of the Protector. Not +that this indulgence was devoid of accompanying grief. Perdita’s name +was for ever joined with his; their conjugal felicity was celebrated +even by the authentic testimony of facts. They were continually +together, nor could the unfortunate Evadne read the monosyllable that +designated his name, without, at the same time, being presented with +the image of her who was the faithful companion of all his labours and +pleasures. _They_, _their Excellencies_, met her eyes in each line, +mingling an evil potion that poisoned her very blood. + +It was in the newspaper that she saw the advertisement for the design +for a national gallery. Combining with taste her remembrance of the +edifices which she had seen in the east, and by an effort of genius +enduing them with unity of design, she executed the plan which had been +sent to the Protector. She triumphed in the idea of bestowing, unknown +and forgotten as she was, a benefit upon him she loved; and with +enthusiastic pride looked forward to the accomplishment of a work of +hers, which, immortalized in stone, would go down to posterity stamped +with the name of Raymond. She awaited with eagerness the return of her +messenger from the palace; she listened insatiate to his account of +each word, each look of the Protector; she felt bliss in this +communication with her beloved, although he knew not to whom he +addressed his instructions. The drawing itself became ineffably dear to +her. He had seen it, and praised it; it was again retouched by her, +each stroke of her pencil was as a chord of thrilling music, and bore +to her the idea of a temple raised to celebrate the deepest and most +unutterable emotions of her soul. These contemplations engaged her, +when the voice of Raymond first struck her ear, a voice, once heard, +never to be forgotten; she mastered her gush of feelings, and welcomed +him with quiet gentleness. + +Pride and tenderness now struggled, and at length made a compromise +together. She would see Raymond, since destiny had led him to her, and +her constancy and devotion must merit his friendship. But her rights +with regard to him, and her cherished independence, should not be +injured by the idea of interest, or the intervention of the complicated +feelings attendant on pecuniary obligation, and the relative situations +of the benefactor, and benefited. Her mind was of uncommon strength; +she could subdue her sensible wants to her mental wishes, and suffer +cold, hunger and misery, rather than concede to fortune a contested +point. Alas! that in human nature such a pitch of mental discipline, +and disdainful negligence of nature itself, should not have been allied +to the extreme of moral excellence! But the resolution that permitted +her to resist the pains of privation, sprung from the too great energy +of her passions; and the concentrated self-will of which this was a +sign, was destined to destroy even the very idol, to preserve whose +respect she submitted to this detail of wretchedness. + +Their intercourse continued. By degrees Evadne related to her friend +the whole of her story, the stain her name had received in Greece, the +weight of sin which had accrued to her from the death of her husband. +When Raymond offered to clear her reputation, and demonstrate to the +world her real patriotism, she declared that it was only through her +present sufferings that she hoped for any relief to the stings of +conscience; that, in her state of mind, diseased as he might think it, +the necessity of occupation was salutary medicine; she ended by +extorting a promise that for the space of one month he would refrain +from the discussion of her interests, engaging after that time to yield +in part to his wishes. She could not disguise to herself that any +change would separate her from him; now she saw him each day. His +connection with Adrian and Perdita was never mentioned; he was to her a +meteor, a companionless star, which at its appointed hour rose in her +hemisphere, whose appearance brought felicity, and which, although it +set, was never eclipsed. He came each day to her abode of penury, and +his presence transformed it to a temple redolent with sweets, radiant +with heaven’s own light; he partook of her delirium. “They built a wall +between them and the world”—Without, a thousand harpies raved, remorse +and misery, expecting the destined moment for their invasion. Within, +was the peace as of innocence, reckless blindless, deluding joy, hope, +whose still anchor rested on placid but unconstant water. + +Thus, while Raymond had been wrapt in visions of power and fame, while +he looked forward to entire dominion over the elements and the mind of +man, the territory of his own heart escaped his notice; and from that +unthought of source arose the mighty torrent that overwhelmed his will, +and carried to the oblivious sea, fame, hope, and happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +In the mean time what did Perdita? + +During the first months of his Protectorate, Raymond and she had been +inseparable; each project was discussed with her, each plan approved by +her. I never beheld any one so perfectly happy as my sweet sister. Her +expressive eyes were two stars whose beams were love; hope and +light-heartedness sat on her cloudless brow. She fed even to tears of +joy on the praise and glory of her Lord; her whole existence was one +sacrifice to him, and if in the humility of her heart she felt +self-complacency, it arose from the reflection that she had won the +distinguished hero of the age, and had for years preserved him, even +after time had taken from love its usual nourishment. Her own feeling +was as entire as at its birth. Five years had failed to destroy the +dazzling unreality of passion. Most men ruthlessly destroy the sacred +veil, with which the female heart is wont to adorn the idol of its +affections. Not so Raymond; he was an enchanter, whose reign was for +ever undiminished; a king whose power never was suspended: follow him +through the details of common life, still the same charm of grace and +majesty adorned him; nor could he be despoiled of the innate +deification with which nature had invested him. Perdita grew in beauty +and excellence under his eye; I no longer recognised my reserved +abstracted sister in the fascinating and open-hearted wife of Raymond. +The genius that enlightened her countenance, was now united to an +expression of benevolence, which gave divine perfection to her beauty. + +Happiness is in its highest degree the sister of goodness. Suffering +and amiability may exist together, and writers have loved to depict +their conjunction; there is a human and touching harmony in the +picture. But perfect happiness is an attribute of angels; and those who +possess it, appear angelic. Fear has been said to be the parent of +religion: even of that religion is it the generator, which leads its +votaries to sacrifice human victims at its altars; but the religion +which springs from happiness is a lovelier growth; the religion which +makes the heart breathe forth fervent thanksgiving, and causes us to +pour out the overflowings of the soul before the author of our being; +that which is the parent of the imagination and the nurse of poetry; +that which bestows benevolent intelligence on the visible mechanism of +the world, and makes earth a temple with heaven for its cope. Such +happiness, goodness, and religion inhabited the mind of Perdita. + +During the five years we had spent together, a knot of happy human +beings at Windsor Castle, her blissful lot had been the frequent theme +of my sister’s conversation. From early habit, and natural affection, +she selected me in preference to Adrian or Idris, to be the partner in +her overflowings of delight; perhaps, though apparently much unlike, +some secret point of resemblance, the offspring of consanguinity, +induced this preference. Often at sunset, I have walked with her, in +the sober, enshadowed forest paths, and listened with joyful sympathy. +Security gave dignity to her passion; the certainty of a full return, +left her with no wish unfulfilled. The birth of her daughter, embryo +copy of her Raymond, filled up the measure of her content, and produced +a sacred and indissoluble tie between them. Sometimes she felt proud +that he had preferred her to the hopes of a crown. Sometimes she +remembered that she had suffered keen anguish, when he hesitated in his +choice. But this memory of past discontent only served to enhance her +present joy. What had been hardly won, was now, entirely possessed, +doubly dear. She would look at him at a distance with the same rapture, +(O, far more exuberant rapture!) that one might feel, who after the +perils of a tempest, should find himself in the desired port; she would +hasten towards him, to feel more certain in his arms, the reality of +her bliss. This warmth of affection, added to the depth of her +understanding, and the brilliancy of her imagination, made her beyond +words dear to Raymond. + +If a feeling of dissatisfaction ever crossed her, it arose from the +idea that he was not perfectly happy. Desire of renown, and +presumptuous ambition, had characterized his youth. The one he had +acquired in Greece; the other he had sacrificed to love. His intellect +found sufficient field for exercise in his domestic circle, whose +members, all adorned by refinement and literature, were many of them, +like himself, distinguished by genius. Yet active life was the genuine +soil for his virtues; and he sometimes suffered tedium from the +monotonous succession of events in our retirement. Pride made him +recoil from complaint; and gratitude and affection to Perdita, +generally acted as an opiate to all desire, save that of meriting her +love. We all observed the visitation of these feelings, and none +regretted them so much as Perdita. Her life consecrated to him, was a +slight sacrifice to reward his choice, but was not that sufficient—Did +he need any gratification that she was unable to bestow? This was the +only cloud in the azure of her happiness. + +His passage to power had been full of pain to both. He however attained +his wish; he filled the situation for which nature seemed to have +moulded him. His activity was fed in wholesome measure, without either +exhaustion or satiety; his taste and genius found worthy expression in +each of the modes human beings have invented to encage and manifest the +spirit of beauty; the goodness of his heart made him never weary of +conducing to the well-being of his fellow-creatures; his magnificent +spirit, and aspirations for the respect and love of mankind, now +received fruition; true, his exaltation was temporary; perhaps it were +better that it should be so. Habit would not dull his sense of the +enjoyment of power; nor struggles, disappointment and defeat await the +end of that which would expire at its maturity. He determined to +extract and condense all of glory, power, and achievement, which might +have resulted from a long reign, into the three years of his +Protectorate. + +Raymond was eminently social. All that he now enjoyed would have been +devoid of pleasure to him, had it been unparticipated. But in Perdita +he possessed all that his heart could desire. Her love gave birth to +sympathy; her intelligence made her understand him at a word; her +powers of intellect enabled her to assist and guide him. He felt her +worth. During the early years of their union, the inequality of her +temper, and yet unsubdued self-will which tarnished her character, had +been a slight drawback to the fulness of his sentiment. Now that +unchanged serenity, and gentle compliance were added to her other +qualifications, his respect equalled his love. Years added to the +strictness of their union. They did not now guess at, and totter on the +pathway, divining the mode to please, hoping, yet fearing the +continuance of bliss. Five years gave a sober certainty to their +emotions, though it did not rob them of their etherial nature. It had +given them a child; but it had not detracted from the personal +attractions of my sister. Timidity, which in her had almost amounted to +awkwardness, was exchanged for a graceful decision of manner; +frankness, instead of reserve, characterized her physiognomy; and her +voice was attuned to thrilling softness. She was now three and twenty, +in the pride of womanhood, fulfilling the precious duties of wife and +mother, possessed of all her heart had ever coveted. Raymond was ten +years older; to his previous beauty, noble mien, and commanding aspect, +he now added gentlest benevolence, winning tenderness, graceful and +unwearied attention to the wishes of another. + +The first secret that had existed between them was the visits of +Raymond to Evadne. He had been struck by the fortitude and beauty of +the ill-fated Greek; and, when her constant tenderness towards him +unfolded itself, he asked with astonishment, by what act of his he had +merited this passionate and unrequited love. She was for a while the +sole object of his reveries; and Perdita became aware that his thoughts +and time were bestowed on a subject unparticipated by her. My sister +was by nature destitute of the common feelings of anxious, petulant +jealousy. The treasure which she possessed in the affections of +Raymond, was more necessary to her being, than the life-blood that +animated her veins—more truly than Othello she might say, + + To be once in doubt, +Is—once to be resolved. + + +On the present occasion she did not suspect any alienation of +affection; but she conjectured that some circumstance connected with +his high place, had occasioned this mystery. She was startled and +pained. She began to count the long days, and months, and years which +must elapse, before he would be restored to a private station, and +unreservedly to her. She was not content that, even for a time, he +should practice concealment with her. She often repined; but her trust +in the singleness of his affection was undisturbed; and, when they were +together, unchecked by fear, she opened her heart to the fullest +delight. + +Time went on. Raymond, stopping mid-way in his wild career, paused +suddenly to think of consequences. Two results presented themselves in +the view he took of the future. That his intercourse with Evadne should +continue a secret to, or that finally it should be discovered by +Perdita. The destitute condition, and highly wrought feelings of his +friend prevented him from adverting to the possibility of exiling +himself from her. In the first event he had bidden an eternal farewell +to open-hearted converse, and entire sympathy with the companion of his +life. The veil must be thicker than that invented by Turkish jealousy; +the wall higher than the unscaleable tower of Vathek, which should +conceal from her the workings of his heart, and hide from her view the +secret of his actions. This idea was intolerably painful to him. +Frankness and social feelings were the essence of Raymond’s nature; +without them his qualities became common-place; without these to spread +glory over his intercourse with Perdita, his vaunted exchange of a +throne for her love, was as weak and empty as the rainbow hues which +vanish when the sun is down. But there was no remedy. Genius, devotion, +and courage; the adornments of his mind, and the energies of his soul, +all exerted to their uttermost stretch, could not roll back one hair’s +breadth the wheel of time’s chariot; that which had been was written +with the adamantine pen of reality, on the everlasting volume of the +past; nor could agony and tears suffice to wash out one iota from the +act fulfilled. + +But this was the best side of the question. What, if circumstance +should lead Perdita to suspect, and suspecting to be resolved? The +fibres of his frame became relaxed, and cold dew stood on his forehead, +at this idea. Many men may scoff at his dread; but he read the future; +and the peace of Perdita was too dear to him, her speechless agony too +certain, and too fearful, not to unman him. His course was speedily +decided upon. If the worst befell; if she learnt the truth, he would +neither stand her reproaches, or the anguish of her altered looks. He +would forsake her, England, his friends, the scenes of his youth, the +hopes of coming time, he would seek another country, and in other +scenes begin life again. Having resolved on this, he became calmer. He +endeavoured to guide with prudence the steeds of destiny through the +devious road which he had chosen, and bent all his efforts the better +to conceal what he could not alter. + +The perfect confidence that subsisted between Perdita and him, rendered +every communication common between them. They opened each other’s +letters, even as, until now, the inmost fold of the heart of each was +disclosed to the other. A letter came unawares, Perdita read it. Had it +contained confirmation, she must have been annihilated. As it was, +trembling, cold, and pale, she sought Raymond. He was alone, examining +some petitions lately presented. She entered silently, sat on a sofa +opposite to him, and gazed on him with a look of such despair, that +wildest shrieks and dire moans would have been tame exhibitions of +misery, compared to the living incarnation of the thing itself +exhibited by her. + +At first he did not take his eyes from the papers; when he raised them, +he was struck by the wretchedness manifest on her altered cheek; for a +moment he forgot his own acts and fears, and asked with +consternation—“Dearest girl, what is the matter; what has happened?” + +“Nothing,” she replied at first; “and yet not so,” she continued, +hurrying on in her speech; “you have secrets, Raymond; where have you +been lately, whom have you seen, what do you conceal from me?—why am I +banished from your confidence? Yet this is not it—I do not intend to +entrap you with questions—one will suffice—am I completely a wretch?” + +With trembling hand she gave him the paper, and sat white and +motionless looking at him while he read it. He recognised the +hand-writing of Evadne, and the colour mounted in his cheeks. With +lightning-speed he conceived the contents of the letter; all was now +cast on one die; falsehood and artifice were trifles in comparison with +the impending ruin. He would either entirely dispel Perdita’s +suspicions, or quit her for ever. “My dear girl,” he said, “I have been +to blame; but you must pardon me. I was in the wrong to commence a +system of concealment; but I did it for the sake of sparing you pain; +and each day has rendered it more difficult for me to alter my plan. +Besides, I was instigated by delicacy towards the unhappy writer of +these few lines.” + +Perdita gasped: “Well,” she cried, “well, go on!” + +“That is all—this paper tells all. I am placed in the most difficult +circumstances. I have done my best, though perhaps I have done wrong. +My love for you is inviolate.” + +Perdita shook her head doubtingly: “It cannot be,” she cried, “I know +that it is not. You would deceive me, but I will not be deceived. I +have lost you, myself, my life!” + +“Do you not believe me?” said Raymond haughtily. + +“To believe you,” she exclaimed, “I would give up all, and expire with +joy, so that in death I could feel that you were true—but that cannot +be!” + +“Perdita,” continued Raymond, “you do not see the precipice on which +you stand. You may believe that I did not enter on my present line of +conduct without reluctance and pain. I knew that it was possible that +your suspicions might be excited; but I trusted that my simple word +would cause them to disappear. I built my hope on your confidence. Do +you think that I will be questioned, and my replies disdainfully set +aside? Do you think that I will be suspected, perhaps watched, +cross-questioned, and disbelieved? I am not yet fallen so low; my +honour is not yet so tarnished. You have loved me; I adored you. But +all human sentiments come to an end. Let our affection expire—but let +it not be exchanged for distrust and recrimination. Heretofore we have +been friends—lovers—let us not become enemies, mutual spies. I cannot +live the object of suspicion—you cannot believe me—let us part!” + +“Exactly so,” cried Perdita, “I knew that it would come to this! Are we +not already parted? Does not a stream, boundless as ocean, deep as +vacuum, yawn between us?” + +Raymond rose, his voice was broken, his features convulsed, his manner +calm as the earthquake-cradling atmosphere, he replied: “I am rejoiced +that you take my decision so philosophically. Doubtless you will play +the part of the injured wife to admiration. Sometimes you may be stung +with the feeling that you have wronged me, but the condolence of your +relatives, the pity of the world, the complacency which the +consciousness of your own immaculate innocence will bestow, will be +excellent balm;—me you will never see more!” + +Raymond moved towards the door. He forgot that each word he spoke was +false. He personated his assumption of innocence even to +self-deception. Have not actors wept, as they pourtrayed imagined +passion? A more intense feeling of the reality of fiction possessed +Raymond. He spoke with pride; he felt injured. Perdita looked up; she +saw his angry glance; his hand was on the lock of the door. She started +up, she threw herself on his neck, she gasped and sobbed; he took her +hand, and leading her to the sofa, sat down near her. Her head fell on +his shoulder, she trembled, alternate changes of fire and ice ran +through her limbs: observing her emotion he spoke with softened +accents: + +“The blow is given. I will not part from you in anger;—I owe you too +much. I owe you six years of unalloyed happiness. But they are passed. +I will not live the mark of suspicion, the object of jealousy. I love +you too well. In an eternal separation only can either of us hope for +dignity and propriety of action. We shall not then be degraded from our +true characters. Faith and devotion have hitherto been the essence of +our intercourse;—these lost, let us not cling to the seedless husk of +life, the unkernelled shell. You have your child, your brother, Idris, +Adrian”— + +“And you,” cried Perdita, “the writer of that letter.” + +Uncontrollable indignation flashed from the eyes of Raymond. He knew +that this accusation at least was false. “Entertain this belief,” he +cried, “hug it to your heart—make it a pillow to your head, an opiate +for your eyes —I am content. But, by the God that made me, hell is not +more false than the word you have spoken!” + +Perdita was struck by the impassioned seriousness of his asseverations. +She replied with earnestness, “I do not refuse to believe you, Raymond; +on the contrary I promise to put implicit faith in your simple word. +Only assure me that your love and faith towards me have never been +violated; and suspicion, and doubt, and jealousy will at once be +dispersed. We shall continue as we have ever done, one heart, one hope, +one life.” + +“I have already assured you of my fidelity,” said Raymond with +disdainful coldness, “triple assertions will avail nothing where one is +despised. I will say no more; for I can add nothing to what I have +already said, to what you before contemptuously set aside. This +contention is unworthy of both of us; and I confess that I am weary of +replying to charges at once unfounded and unkind.” + +Perdita tried to read his countenance, which he angrily averted. There +was so much of truth and nature in his resentment, that her doubts were +dispelled. Her countenance, which for years had not expressed a feeling +unallied to affection, became again radiant and satisfied. She found it +however no easy task to soften and reconcile Raymond. At first he +refused to stay to hear her. But she would not be put off; secure of +his unaltered love, she was willing to undertake any labour, use any +entreaty, to dispel his anger. She obtained an hearing, he sat in +haughty silence, but he listened. She first assured him of her +boundless confidence; of this he must be conscious, since but for that +she would not seek to detain him. She enumerated their years of +happiness; she brought before him past scenes of intimacy and +happiness; she pictured their future life, she mentioned their +child—tears unbidden now filled her eyes. She tried to disperse them, +but they refused to be checked—her utterance was choaked. She had not +wept before. Raymond could not resist these signs of distress: he felt +perhaps somewhat ashamed of the part he acted of the injured man, he +who was in truth the injurer. And then he devoutly loved Perdita; the +bend of her head, her glossy ringlets, the turn of her form were to him +subjects of deep tenderness and admiration; as she spoke, her melodious +tones entered his soul; he soon softened towards her, comforting and +caressing her, and endeavouring to cheat himself into the belief that +he had never wronged her. + +Raymond staggered forth from this scene, as a man might do, who had +been just put to the torture, and looked forward to when it would be +again inflicted. He had sinned against his own honour, by affirming, +swearing to, a direct falsehood; true this he had palmed on a woman, +and it might therefore be deemed less base—by others—not by him;—for +whom had he deceived?—his own trusting, devoted, affectionate Perdita, +whose generous belief galled him doubly, when he remembered the parade +of innocence with which it had been exacted. The mind of Raymond was +not so rough cast, nor had been so rudely handled, in the circumstance +of life, as to make him proof to these considerations—on the contrary, +he was all nerve; his spirit was as a pure fire, which fades and +shrinks from every contagion of foul atmosphere: but now the contagion +had become incorporated with its essence, and the change was the more +painful. Truth and falsehood, love and hate lost their eternal +boundaries, heaven rushed in to mingle with hell; while his sensitive +mind, turned to a field for such battle, was stung to madness. He +heartily despised himself, he was angry with Perdita, and the idea of +Evadne was attended by all that was hideous and cruel. His passions, +always his masters, acquired fresh strength, from the long sleep in +which love had cradled them, the clinging weight of destiny bent him +down; he was goaded, tortured, fiercely impatient of that worst of +miseries, the sense of remorse. This troubled state yielded by degrees, +to sullen animosity, and depression of spirits. His dependants, even +his equals, if in his present post he had any, were startled to find +anger, derision, and bitterness in one, before distinguished for +suavity and benevolence of manner. He transacted public business with +distaste, and hastened from it to the solitude which was at once his +bane and relief. He mounted a fiery horse, that which had borne him +forward to victory in Greece; he fatigued himself with deadening +exercise, losing the pangs of a troubled mind in animal sensation. + +He slowly recovered himself; yet, at last, as one might from the +effects of poison, he lifted his head from above the vapours of fever +and passion into the still atmosphere of calm reflection. He meditated +on what was best to be done. He was first struck by the space of time +that had elapsed, since madness, rather than any reasonable impulse, +had regulated his actions. A month had gone by, and during that time he +had not seen Evadne. Her power, which was linked to few of the enduring +emotions of his heart, had greatly decayed. He was no longer her +slave—no longer her lover: he would never see her more, and by the +completeness of his return, deserve the confidence of Perdita. + +Yet, as he thus determined, fancy conjured up the miserable abode of +the Greek girl. An abode, which from noble and lofty principle, she had +refused to exchange for one of greater luxury. He thought of the +splendour of her situation and appearance when he first knew her; he +thought of her life at Constantinople, attended by every circumstance +of oriental magnificence; of her present penury, her daily task of +industry, her lorn state, her faded, famine-struck cheek. Compassion +swelled his breast; he would see her once again; he would devise some +plan for restoring her to society, and the enjoyment of her rank; their +separation would then follow, as a matter of course. + +Again he thought, how during this long month, he had avoided Perdita, +flying from her as from the stings of his own conscience. But he was +awake now; all this should be remedied; and future devotion erase the +memory of this only blot on the serenity of their life. He became +cheerful, as he thought of this, and soberly and resolutely marked out +the line of conduct he would adopt. He remembered that he had promised +Perdita to be present this very evening (the 19th of October, +anniversary of his election as Protector) at a festival given in his +honour. Good augury should this festival be of the happiness of future +years. First, he would look in on Evadne; he would not stay; but he +owed her some account, some compensation for his long and unannounced +absence; and then to Perdita, to the forgotten world, to the duties of +society, the splendour of rank, the enjoyment of power. + +After the scene sketched in the preceding pages, Perdita had +contemplated an entire change in the manners and conduct of Raymond. +She expected freedom of communication, and a return to those habits of +affectionate intercourse which had formed the delight of her life. But +Raymond did not join her in any of her avocations. He transacted the +business of the day apart from her; he went out, she knew not whither. +The pain inflicted by this disappointment was tormenting and keen. She +looked on it as a deceitful dream, and tried to throw off the +consciousness of it; but like the shirt of Nessus, it clung to her very +flesh, and ate with sharp agony into her vital principle. She possessed +that (though such an assertion may appear a paradox) which belongs to +few, a capacity of happiness. Her delicate organization and creative +imagination rendered her peculiarly susceptible of pleasurable emotion. +The overflowing warmth of her heart, by making love a plant of deep +root and stately growth, had attuned her whole soul to the reception of +happiness, when she found in Raymond all that could adorn love and +satisfy her imagination. But if the sentiment on which the fabric of +her existence was founded, became common place through participation, +the endless succession of attentions and graceful action snapt by +transfer, his universe of love wrested from her, happiness must depart, +and then be exchanged for its opposite. The same peculiarities of +character rendered her sorrows agonies; her fancy magnified them, her +sensibility made her for ever open to their renewed impression; love +envenomed the heart-piercing sting. There was neither submission, +patience, nor self-abandonment in her grief; she fought with it, +struggled beneath it, and rendered every pang more sharp by resistance. +Again and again the idea recurred, that he loved another. She did him +justice; she believed that he felt a tender affection for her; but give +a paltry prize to him who in some life-pending lottery has calculated +on the possession of tens of thousands, and it will disappoint him more +than a blank. The affection and amity of a Raymond might be +inestimable; but, beyond that affection, embosomed deeper than +friendship, was the indivisible treasure of love. Take the sum in its +completeness, and no arithmetic can calculate its price; take from it +the smallest portion, give it but the name of parts, separate it into +degrees and sections, and like the magician’s coin, the valueless gold +of the mine, is turned to vilest substance. There is a meaning in the +eye of love; a cadence in its voice, an irradiation in its smile, the +talisman of whose enchantments one only can possess; its spirit is +elemental, its essence single, its divinity an unit. The very heart and +soul of Raymond and Perdita had mingled, even as two mountain brooks +that join in their descent, and murmuring and sparkling flow over +shining pebbles, beside starry flowers; but let one desert its primal +course, or be dammed up by choaking obstruction, and the other shrinks +in its altered banks. Perdita was sensible of the failing of the tide +that fed her life. Unable to support the slow withering of her hopes, +she suddenly formed a plan, resolving to terminate at once the period +of misery, and to bring to an happy conclusion the late disastrous +events. + +The anniversary was at hand of the exaltation of Raymond to the office +of Protector; and it was customary to celebrate this day by a splendid +festival. A variety of feelings urged Perdita to shed double +magnificence over the scene; yet, as she arrayed herself for the +evening gala, she wondered herself at the pains she took, to render +sumptuous the celebration of an event which appeared to her the +beginning of her sufferings. Woe befall the day, she thought, woe, +tears, and mourning betide the hour, that gave Raymond another hope +than love, another wish than my devotion; and thrice joyful the moment +when he shall be restored to me! God knows, I put my trust in his vows, +and believe his asserted faith—but for that, I would not seek what I am +now resolved to attain. Shall two years more be thus passed, each day +adding to our alienation, each act being another stone piled on the +barrier which separates us? No, my Raymond, my only beloved, sole +possession of Perdita! This night, this splendid assembly, these +sumptuous apartments, and this adornment of your tearful girl, are all +united to celebrate your abdication. Once for me, you relinquished the +prospect of a crown. That was in days of early love, when I could only +hold out the hope, not the assurance of happiness. Now you have the +experience of all that I can give, the heart’s devotion, taintless +love, and unhesitating subjection to you. You must choose between these +and your protectorate. This, proud noble, is your last night! Perdita +has bestowed on it all of magnificent and dazzling that your heart best +loves—but, from these gorgeous rooms, from this princely attendance, +from power and elevation, you must return with to-morrow’s sun to our +rural abode; for I would not buy an immortality of joy, by the +endurance of one more week sister to the last. + +Brooding over this plan, resolved when the hour should come, to +propose, and insist upon its accomplishment, secure of his consent, the +heart of Perdita was lightened, or rather exalted. Her cheek was +flushed by the expectation of struggle; her eyes sparkled with the hope +of triumph. Having cast her fate upon a die, and feeling secure of +winning, she, whom I have named as bearing the stamp of queen of +nations on her noble brow, now rose superior to humanity, and seemed in +calm power, to arrest with her finger, the wheel of destiny. She had +never before looked so supremely lovely. + +We, the Arcadian shepherds of the tale, had intended to be present at +this festivity, but Perdita wrote to entreat us not to come, or to +absent ourselves from Windsor; for she (though she did not reveal her +scheme to us) resolved the next morning to return with Raymond to our +dear circle, there to renew a course of life in which she had found +entire felicity. Late in the evening she entered the apartments +appropriated to the festival. Raymond had quitted the palace the night +before; he had promised to grace the assembly, but he had not yet +returned. Still she felt sure that he would come at last; and the wider +the breach might appear at this crisis, the more secure she was of +closing it for ever. + +It was as I said, the nineteenth of October; the autumn was far +advanced and dreary. The wind howled; the half bare trees were +despoiled of the remainder of their summer ornament; the state of the +air which induced the decay of vegetation, was hostile to cheerfulness +or hope. Raymond had been exalted by the determination he had made; but +with the declining day his spirits declined. First he was to visit +Evadne, and then to hasten to the palace of the Protectorate. As he +walked through the wretched streets in the neighbourhood of the +luckless Greek’s abode, his heart smote him for the whole course of his +conduct towards her. First, his having entered into any engagement that +should permit her to remain in such a state of degradation; and then, +after a short wild dream, having left her to drear solitude, anxious +conjecture, and bitter, still—disappointed expectation. What had she +done the while, how supported his absence and neglect? Light grew dim +in these close streets, and when the well known door was opened, the +staircase was shrouded in perfect night. He groped his way up, he +entered the garret, he found Evadne stretched speechless, almost +lifeless on her wretched bed. He called for the people of the house, +but could learn nothing from them, except that they knew nothing. Her +story was plain to him, plain and distinct as the remorse and horror +that darted their fangs into him. When she found herself forsaken by +him, she lost the heart to pursue her usual avocations; pride forbade +every application to him; famine was welcomed as the kind porter to the +gates of death, within whose opening folds she should now, without sin, +quickly repose. No creature came near her, as her strength failed. + +If she died, where could there be found on record a murderer, whose +cruel act might compare with his? What fiend more wanton in his +mischief, what damned soul more worthy of perdition! But he was not +reserved for this agony of self-reproach. He sent for medical +assistance; the hours passed, spun by suspense into ages; the darkness +of the long autumnal night yielded to day, before her life was secure. +He had her then removed to a more commodious dwelling, and hovered +about her, again and again to assure himself that she was safe. + +In the midst of his greatest suspense and fear as to the event, he +remembered the festival given in his honour, by Perdita; in his honour +then, when misery and death were affixing indelible disgrace to his +name, honour to him whose crimes deserved a scaffold; this was the +worst mockery. Still Perdita would expect him; he wrote a few +incoherent words on a scrap of paper, testifying that he was well, and +bade the woman of the house take it to the palace, and deliver it into +the hands of the wife of the Lord Protector. The woman, who did not +know him, contemptuously asked, how he thought she should gain +admittance, particularly on a festal night, to that lady’s presence? +Raymond gave her his ring to ensure the respect of the menials. Thus, +while Perdita was entertaining her guests, and anxiously awaiting the +arrival of her lord, his ring was brought her; and she was told that a +poor woman had a note to deliver to her from its wearer. + +The vanity of the old gossip was raised by her commission, which, after +all, she did not understand, since she had no suspicion, even now that +Evadne’s visitor was Lord Raymond. Perdita dreaded a fall from his +horse, or some similar accident—till the woman’s answers woke other +fears. From a feeling of cunning blindly exercised, the officious, if +not malignant messenger, did not speak of Evadne’s illness; but she +garrulously gave an account of Raymond’s frequent visits, adding to her +narration such circumstances, as, while they convinced Perdita of its +truth, exaggerated the unkindness and perfidy of Raymond. Worst of all, +his absence now from the festival, his message wholly unaccounted for, +except by the disgraceful hints of the woman, appeared the deadliest +insult. Again she looked at the ring, it was a small ruby, almost +heart-shaped, which she had herself given him. She looked at the +hand-writing, which she could not mistake, and repeated to herself the +words—“Do not, I charge you, I entreat you, permit your guests to +wonder at my absence:” the while the old crone going on with her talk, +filled her ear with a strange medley of truth and falsehood. At length +Perdita dismissed her. + +The poor girl returned to the assembly, where her presence had not been +missed. She glided into a recess somewhat obscured, and leaning against +an ornamental column there placed, tried to recover herself. Her +faculties were palsied. She gazed on some flowers that stood near in a +carved vase: that morning she had arranged them, they were rare and +lovely plants; even now all aghast as she was, she observed their +brilliant colours and starry shapes.—“Divine infoliations of the spirit +of beauty,” she exclaimed, “Ye droop not, neither do ye mourn; the +despair that clasps my heart, has not spread contagion over you!—Why am +I not a partner of your insensibility, a sharer in your calm!” + +She paused. “To my task,” she continued mentally, “my guests must not +perceive the reality, either as it regards him or me. I obey; they +shall not, though I die the moment they are gone. They shall behold the +antipodes of what is real—for I will appear to live—while I am—dead.” +It required all her self-command, to suppress the gush of tears +self-pity caused at this idea. After many struggles, she succeeded, and +turned to join the company. + +All her efforts were now directed to the dissembling her internal +conflict. She had to play the part of a courteous hostess; to attend to +all; to shine the focus of enjoyment and grace. She had to do this, +while in deep woe she sighed for loneliness, and would gladly have +exchanged her crowded rooms for dark forest depths, or a drear, +night-enshadowed heath. But she became gay. She could not keep in the +medium, nor be, as was usual with her, placidly content. Every one +remarked her exhilaration of spirits; as all actions appear graceful in +the eye of rank, her guests surrounded her applaudingly, although there +was a sharpness in her laugh, and an abruptness in her sallies, which +might have betrayed her secret to an attentive observer. She went on, +feeling that, if she had paused for a moment, the checked waters of +misery would have deluged her soul, that her wrecked hopes would raise +their wailing voices, and that those who now echoed her mirth, and +provoked her repartees, would have shrunk in fear from her convulsive +despair. Her only consolation during the violence which she did +herself, was to watch the motions of an illuminated clock, and +internally count the moments which must elapse before she could be +alone. + +At length the rooms began to thin. Mocking her own desires, she rallied +her guests on their early departure. One by one they left her—at length +she pressed the hand of her last visitor. “How cold and damp your hand +is,” said her friend; “you are over fatigued, pray hasten to rest.” +Perdita smiled faintly—her guest left her; the carriage rolling down +the street assured the final departure. Then, as if pursued by an +enemy, as if wings had been at her feet, she flew to her own apartment, +she dismissed her attendants, she locked the doors, she threw herself +wildly on the floor, she bit her lips even to blood to suppress her +shrieks, and lay long a prey to the vulture of despair, striving not to +think, while multitudinous ideas made a home of her heart; and ideas, +horrid as furies, cruel as vipers, and poured in with such swift +succession, that they seemed to jostle and wound each other, while they +worked her up to madness. + +At length she rose, more composed, not less miserable. She stood before +a large mirror—she gazed on her reflected image; her light and graceful +dress, the jewels that studded her hair, and encircled her beauteous +arms and neck, her small feet shod in satin, her profuse and glossy +tresses, all were to her clouded brow and woe-begone countenance like a +gorgeous frame to a dark tempest-pourtraying picture. “Vase am I,” she +thought, “vase brimful of despair’s direst essence. Farewell, Perdita! +farewell, poor girl! never again will you see yourself thus; luxury and +wealth are no longer yours; in the excess of your poverty you may envy +the homeless beggar; most truly am I without a home! I live on a barren +desart, which, wide and interminable, brings forth neither fruit or +flower; in the midst is a solitary rock, to which thou, Perdita, art +chained, and thou seest the dreary level stretch far away.” + +She threw open her window, which looked on the palace-garden. Light and +darkness were struggling together, and the orient was streaked by +roseate and golden rays. One star only trembled in the depth of the +kindling atmosphere. The morning air blowing freshly over the dewy +plants, rushed into the heated room. “All things go on,” thought +Perdita, “all things proceed, decay, and perish! When noontide has +passed, and the weary day has driven her team to their western stalls, +the fires of heaven rise from the East, moving in their accustomed +path, they ascend and descend the skiey hill. When their course is +fulfilled, the dial begins to cast westward an uncertain shadow; the +eye-lids of day are opened, and birds and flowers, the startled +vegetation, and fresh breeze awaken; the sun at length appears, and in +majestic procession climbs the capitol of heaven. All proceeds, changes +and dies, except the sense of misery in my bursting heart. + +“Ay, all proceeds and changes: what wonder then, that love has journied +on to its setting, and that the lord of my life has changed? We call +the supernal lights fixed, yet they wander about yonder plain, and if I +look again where I looked an hour ago, the face of the eternal heavens +is altered. The silly moon and inconstant planets vary nightly their +erratic dance; the sun itself, sovereign of the sky, ever and anon +deserts his throne, and leaves his dominion to night and winter. Nature +grows old, and shakes in her decaying limbs,—creation has become +bankrupt! What wonder then, that eclipse and death have led to +destruction the light of thy life, O Perdita!” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Thus sad and disarranged were the thoughts of my poor sister, when she +became assured of the infidelity of Raymond. All her virtues and all +her defects tended to make the blow incurable. Her affection for me, +her brother, for Adrian and Idris, was subject as it were to the +reigning passion of her heart; even her maternal tenderness borrowed +half its force from the delight she had in tracing Raymond’s features +and expression in the infant’s countenance. She had been reserved and +even stern in childhood; but love had softened the asperities of her +character, and her union with Raymond had caused her talents and +affections to unfold themselves; the one betrayed, and the other lost, +she in some degree returned to her ancient disposition. The +concentrated pride of her nature, forgotten during her blissful dream, +awoke, and with its adder’s sting pierced her heart; her humility of +spirit augmented the power of the venom; she had been exalted in her +own estimation, while distinguished by his love: of what worth was she, +now that he thrust her from this preferment? She had been proud of +having won and preserved him—but another had won him from her, and her +exultation was as cold as a water quenched ember. + +We, in our retirement, remained long in ignorance of her misfortune. +Soon after the festival she had sent for her child, and then she seemed +to have forgotten us. Adrian observed a change during a visit that he +afterward paid them; but he could not tell its extent, or divine the +cause. They still appeared in public together, and lived under the same +roof. Raymond was as usual courteous, though there was, on occasions, +an unbidden haughtiness, or painful abruptness in his manners, which +startled his gentle friend; his brow was not clouded but disdain sat on +his lips, and his voice was harsh. Perdita was all kindness and +attention to her lord; but she was silent, and beyond words sad. She +had grown thin and pale; and her eyes often filled with tears. +Sometimes she looked at Raymond, as if to say—That it should be so! At +others her countenance expressed—I will still do all I can to make you +happy. But Adrian read with uncertain aim the charactery of her face, +and might mistake.—Clara was always with her, and she seemed most at +ease, when, in an obscure corner, she could sit holding her child’s +hand, silent and lonely. Still Adrian was unable to guess the truth; he +entreated them to visit us at Windsor, and they promised to come during +the following month. + +It was May before they arrived: the season had decked the forest trees +with leaves, and its paths with a thousand flowers. We had notice of +their intention the day before; and, early in the morning, Perdita +arrived with her daughter. Raymond would follow soon, she said; he had +been detained by business. According to Adrian’s account, I had +expected to find her sad; but, on the contrary, she appeared in the +highest spirits: true, she had grown thin, her eyes were somewhat +hollow, and her cheeks sunk, though tinged by a bright glow. She was +delighted to see us; caressed our children, praised their growth and +improvement; Clara also was pleased to meet again her young friend +Alfred; all kinds of childish games were entered into, in which Perdita +joined. She communicated her gaiety to us, and as we amused ourselves +on the Castle Terrace, it appeared that a happier, less care-worn party +could not have been assembled. “This is better, Mamma,” said Clara, +“than being in that dismal London, where you often cry, and never laugh +as you do now.”—“Silence, little foolish thing,” replied her mother, +“and remember any one that mentions London is sent to Coventry for an +hour.” + +Soon after, Raymond arrived. He did not join as usual in the playful +spirit of the rest; but, entering into conversation with Adrian and +myself, by degrees we seceded from our companions, and Idris and +Perdita only remained with the children. Raymond talked of his new +buildings; of his plan for an establishment for the better education of +the poor; as usual Adrian and he entered into argument, and the time +slipped away unperceived. + +We assembled again towards evening, and Perdita insisted on our having +recourse to music. She wanted, she said, to give us a specimen of her +new accomplishment; for since she had been in London, she had applied +herself to music, and sang, without much power, but with a great deal +of sweetness. We were not permitted by her to select any but +light-hearted melodies; and all the Operas of Mozart were called into +service, that we might choose the most exhilarating of his airs. Among +the other transcendant attributes of Mozart’s music, it possesses more +than any other that of appearing to come from the heart; you enter into +the passions expressed by him, and are transported with grief, joy, +anger, or confusion, as he, our soul’s master, chooses to inspire. For +some time, the spirit of hilarity was kept up; but, at length, Perdita +receded from the piano, for Raymond had joined in the trio of “_Taci +ingiusto core_,” in Don Giovanni, whose arch entreaty was softened by +him into tenderness, and thrilled her heart with memories of the +changed past; it was the same voice, the same tone, the self-same +sounds and words, which often before she had received, as the homage of +love to her—no longer was it that; and this concord of sound with its +dissonance of expression penetrated her with regret and despair. Soon +after Idris, who was at the harp, turned to that passionate and +sorrowful air in Figaro, “_Porgi, amor, qualche ristoro_,” in which the +deserted Countess laments the change of the faithless Almaviva. The +soul of tender sorrow is breathed forth in this strain; and the sweet +voice of Idris, sustained by the mournful chords of her instrument, +added to the expression of the words. During the pathetic appeal with +which it concludes, a stifled sob attracted our attention to Perdita, +the cessation of the music recalled her to herself, she hastened out of +the hall—I followed her. At first, she seemed to wish to shun me; and +then, yielding to my earnest questioning, she threw herself on my neck, +and wept aloud:—“Once more,” she cried, “once more on your friendly +breast, my beloved brother, can the lost Perdita pour forth her +sorrows. I had imposed a law of silence on myself; and for months I +have kept it. I do wrong in weeping now, and greater wrong in giving +words to my grief. I will not speak! Be it enough for you to know that +I am miserable—be it enough for you to know, that the painted veil of +life is rent, that I sit for ever shrouded in darkness and gloom, that +grief is my sister, everlasting lamentation my mate!” + +I endeavoured to console her; I did not question her! but I caressed +her, assured her of my deepest affection and my intense interest in the +changes of her fortune:—“Dear words,” she cried, “expressions of love +come upon my ear, like the remembered sounds of forgotten music, that +had been dear to me. They are vain, I know; how very vain in their +attempt to soothe or comfort me. Dearest Lionel, you cannot guess what +I have suffered during these long months. I have read of mourners in +ancient days, who clothed themselves in sackcloth, scattered dust upon +their heads, ate their bread mingled with ashes, and took up their +abode on the bleak mountain tops, reproaching heaven and earth aloud +with their misfortunes. Why this is the very luxury of sorrow! thus one +might go on from day to day contriving new extravagances, revelling in +the paraphernalia of woe, wedded to all the appurtenances of despair. +Alas! I must for ever conceal the wretchedness that consumes me. I must +weave a veil of dazzling falsehood to hide my grief from vulgar eyes, +smoothe my brow, and paint my lips in deceitful smiles—even in solitude +I dare not think how lost I am, lest I become insane and rave.” + +The tears and agitation of my poor sister had rendered her unfit to +return to the circle we had left—so I persuaded her to let me drive her +through the park; and, during the ride, I induced her to confide the +tale of her unhappiness to me, fancying that talking of it would +lighten the burthen, and certain that, if there were a remedy, it +should be found and secured to her. + +Several weeks had elapsed since the festival of the anniversary, and +she had been unable to calm her mind, or to subdue her thoughts to any +regular train. Sometimes she reproached herself for taking too bitterly +to heart, that which many would esteem an imaginary evil; but this was +no subject for reason; and, ignorant as she was of the motives and true +conduct of Raymond, things assumed for her even a worse appearance, +than the reality warranted. He was seldom at the palace; never, but +when he was assured that his public duties would prevent his remaining +alone with Perdita. They seldom addressed each other, shunning +explanation, each fearing any communication the other might make. +Suddenly, however, the manners of Raymond changed; he appeared to +desire to find opportunities of bringing about a return to kindness and +intimacy with my sister. The tide of love towards her appeared to flow +again; he could never forget, how once he had been devoted to her, +making her the shrine and storehouse wherein to place every thought and +every sentiment. Shame seemed to hold him back; yet he evidently wished +to establish a renewal of confidence and affection. From the moment +Perdita had sufficiently recovered herself to form any plan of action, +she had laid one down, which now she prepared to follow. She received +these tokens of returning love with gentleness; she did not shun his +company; but she endeavoured to place a barrier in the way of familiar +intercourse or painful discussion, which mingled pride and shame +prevented Raymond from surmounting. He began at last to shew signs of +angry impatience, and Perdita became aware that the system she had +adopted could not continue; she must explain herself to him; she could +not summon courage to speak—she wrote thus:— + +“Read this letter with patience, I entreat you. It will contain no +reproaches. Reproach is indeed an idle word: for what should I reproach +you? + +“Allow me in some degree to explain my feeling; without that, we shall +both grope in the dark, mistaking one another; erring from the path +which may conduct, one of us at least, to a more eligible mode of life +than that led by either during the last few weeks. + +“I loved you—I love you—neither anger nor pride dictates these lines; +but a feeling beyond, deeper, and more unalterable than either. My +affections are wounded; it is impossible to heal them:—cease then the +vain endeavour, if indeed that way your endeavours tend. Forgiveness! +Return! Idle words are these! I forgive the pain I endure; but the +trodden path cannot be retraced. + +“Common affection might have been satisfied with common usages. I +believed that you read my heart, and knew its devotion, its unalienable +fidelity towards you. I never loved any but you. You came the embodied +image of my fondest dreams. The praise of men, power and high +aspirations attended your career. Love for you invested the world for +me in enchanted light; it was no longer the earth I trod—the earth, +common mother, yielding only trite and stale repetition of objects and +circumstances old and worn out. I lived in a temple glorified by +intensest sense of devotion and rapture; I walked, a consecrated being, +contemplating only your power, your excellence; + +For O, you stood beside me, like my youth, +Transformed for me the real to a dream, +Cloathing the palpable and familiar +With golden exhalations of the dawn. + + +‘The bloom has vanished from my life’—there is no morning to this all +investing night; no rising to the set-sun of love. In those days the +rest of the world was nothing to me: all other men—I never considered +nor felt what they were; nor did I look on you as one of them. +Separated from them; exalted in my heart; sole possessor of my +affections; single object of my hopes, the best half of myself. + +“Ah, Raymond, were we not happy? Did the sun shine on any, who could +enjoy its light with purer and more intense bliss? It was not—it is not +a common infidelity at which I repine. It is the disunion of an whole +which may not have parts; it is the carelessness with which you have +shaken off the mantle of election with which to me you were invested, +and have become one among the many. Dream not to alter this. Is not +love a divinity, because it is immortal? Did not I appear sanctified, +even to myself, because this love had for its temple my heart? I have +gazed on you as you slept, melted even to tears, as the idea filled my +mind, that all I possessed lay cradled in those idolized, but mortal +lineaments before me. Yet, even then, I have checked thick-coming fears +with one thought; I would not fear death, for the emotions that linked +us must be immortal. + +“And now I do not fear death. I should be well pleased to close my +eyes, never more to open them again. And yet I fear it; even as I fear +all things; for in any state of being linked by the chain of memory +with this, happiness would not return—even in Paradise, I must feel +that your love was less enduring than the mortal beatings of my fragile +heart, every pulse of which knells audibly, + + The funeral note +Of love, deep buried, without resurrection. + + +No—no—me miserable; for love extinct there is no resurrection! + +“Yet I love you. Yet, and for ever, would I contribute all I possess to +your welfare. On account of a tattling world; for the sake of my—of our +child, I would remain by you, Raymond, share your fortunes, partake +your counsel. Shall it be thus? We are no longer lovers; nor can I call +myself a friend to any; since, lost as I am, I have no thought to spare +from my own wretched, engrossing self. But it will please me to see you +each day! to listen to the public voice praising you; to keep up your +paternal love for our girl; to hear your voice; to know that I am near +you, though you are no longer mine. + +“If you wish to break the chains that bind us, say the word, and it +shall be done—I will take all the blame on myself, of harshness or +unkindness, in the world’s eye. + +“Yet, as I have said, I should be best pleased, at least for the +present, to live under the same roof with you. When the fever of my +young life is spent; when placid age shall tame the vulture that +devours me, friendship may come, love and hope being dead. May this be +true? Can my soul, inextricably linked to this perishable frame, become +lethargic and cold, even as this sensitive mechanism shall lose its +youthful elasticity? Then, with lack-lustre eyes, grey hairs, and +wrinkled brow, though now the words sound hollow and meaningless, then, +tottering on the grave’s extreme edge, I may be—your affectionate and +true friend, + +“PERDITA.” + + +Raymond’s answer was brief. What indeed could he reply to her +complaints, to her griefs which she jealously paled round, keeping out +all thought of remedy. “Notwithstanding your bitter letter,” he wrote, +“for bitter I must call it, you are the chief person in my estimation, +and it is your happiness that I would principally consult. Do that +which seems best to you: and if you can receive gratification from one +mode of life in preference to another, do not let me be any obstacle. I +foresee that the plan which you mark out in your letter will not endure +long; but you are mistress of yourself, and it is my sincere wish to +contribute as far as you will permit me to your happiness.” + +“Raymond has prophesied well,” said Perdita, “alas, that it should be +so! our present mode of life cannot continue long, yet I will not be +the first to propose alteration. He beholds in me one whom he has +injured even unto death; and I derive no hope from his kindness; no +change can possibly be brought about even by his best intentions. As +well might Cleopatra have worn as an ornament the vinegar which +contained her dissolved pearl, as I be content with the love that +Raymond can now offer me.” + +I own that I did not see her misfortune with the same eyes as Perdita. +At all events methought that the wound could be healed; and, if they +remained together, it would be so. I endeavoured therefore to sooth and +soften her mind; and it was not until after many endeavours that I gave +up the task as impracticable. Perdita listened to me impatiently, and +answered with some asperity:—“Do you think that any of your arguments +are new to me? or that my own burning wishes and intense anguish have +not suggested them all a thousand times, with far more eagerness and +subtlety than you can put into them? Lionel, you cannot understand what +woman’s love is. In days of happiness I have often repeated to myself, +with a grateful heart and exulting spirit, all that Raymond sacrificed +for me. I was a poor, uneducated, unbefriended, mountain girl, raised +from nothingness by him. All that I possessed of the luxuries of life +came from him. He gave me an illustrious name and noble station; the +world’s respect reflected from his own glory: all this joined to his +own undying love, inspired me with sensations towards him, akin to +those with which we regard the Giver of life. I gave him love only. I +devoted myself to him: imperfect creature that I was, I took myself to +task, that I might become worthy of him. I watched over my hasty +temper, subdued my burning impatience of character, schooled my +self-engrossing thoughts, educating myself to the best perfection I +might attain, that the fruit of my exertions might be his happiness. I +took no merit to myself for this. He deserved it all—all labour, all +devotion, all sacrifice; I would have toiled up a scaleless Alp, to +pluck a flower that would please him. I was ready to quit you all, my +beloved and gifted companions, and to live only with him, for him. I +could not do otherwise, even if I had wished; for if we are said to +have two souls, he was my better soul, to which the other was a +perpetual slave. One only return did he owe me, even fidelity. I earned +that; I deserved it. Because I was mountain bred, unallied to the noble +and wealthy, shall he think to repay me by an empty name and station? +Let him take them back; without his love they are nothing to me. Their +only merit in my eyes was that they were his.” + +Thus passionately Perdita ran on. When I adverted to the question of +their entire separation, she replied: “Be it so! One day the period +will arrive; I know it, and feel it. But in this I am a coward. This +imperfect companionship, and our masquerade of union, are strangely +dear to me. It is painful, I allow, destructive, impracticable. It +keeps up a perpetual fever in my veins; it frets my immedicable wound; +it is instinct with poison. Yet I must cling to it; perhaps it will +kill me soon, and thus perform a thankful office.” + +In the mean time, Raymond had remained with Adrian and Idris. He was +naturally frank; the continued absence of Perdita and myself became +remarkable; and Raymond soon found relief from the constraint of +months, by an unreserved confidence with his two friends. He related to +them the situation in which he had found Evadne. At first, from +delicacy to Adrian he concealed her name; but it was divulged in the +course of his narrative, and her former lover heard with the most acute +agitation the history of her sufferings. Idris had shared Perdita’s ill +opinion of the Greek; but Raymond’s account softened and interested +her. Evadne’s constancy, fortitude, even her ill-fated and +ill-regulated love, were matter of admiration and pity; especially +when, from the detail of the events of the nineteenth of October, it +was apparent that she preferred suffering and death to any in her eyes +degrading application for the pity and assistance of her lover. Her +subsequent conduct did not diminish this interest. At first, relieved +from famine and the grave, watched over by Raymond with the tenderest +assiduity, with that feeling of repose peculiar to convalescence, +Evadne gave herself up to rapturous gratitude and love. But reflection +returned with health. She questioned him with regard to the motives +which had occasioned his critical absence. She framed her enquiries +with Greek subtlety; she formed her conclusions with the decision and +firmness peculiar to her disposition. She could not divine, that the +breach which she had occasioned between Raymond and Perdita was already +irreparable: but she knew, that under the present system it would be +widened each day, and that its result must be to destroy her lover’s +happiness, and to implant the fangs of remorse in his heart. From the +moment that she perceived the right line of conduct, she resolved to +adopt it, and to part from Raymond for ever. Conflicting passions, +long-cherished love, and self-inflicted disappointment, made her regard +death alone as sufficient refuge for her woe. But the same feelings and +opinions which had before restrained her, acted with redoubled force; +for she knew that the reflection that he had occasioned her death, +would pursue Raymond through life, poisoning every enjoyment, clouding +every prospect. Besides, though the violence of her anguish made life +hateful, it had not yet produced that monotonous, lethargic sense of +changeless misery which for the most part produces suicide. Her energy +of character induced her still to combat with the ills of life; even +those attendant on hopeless love presented themselves, rather in the +shape of an adversary to be overcome, than of a victor to whom she must +submit. Besides, she had memories of past tenderness to cherish, +smiles, words, and even tears, to con over, which, though remembered in +desertion and sorrow, were to be preferred to the forgetfulness of the +grave. It was impossible to guess at the whole of her plan. Her letter +to Raymond gave no clue for discovery; it assured him, that she was in +no danger of wanting the means of life; she promised in it to preserve +herself, and some future day perhaps to present herself to him in a +station not unworthy of her. She then bade him, with the eloquence of +despair and of unalterable love, a last farewell. + +All these circumstances were now related to Adrian and Idris. Raymond +then lamented the cureless evil of his situation with Perdita. He +declared, notwithstanding her harshness, he even called it coldness, +that he loved her. He had been ready once with the humility of a +penitent, and the duty of a vassal, to surrender himself to her; giving +up his very soul to her tutelage, to become her pupil, her slave, her +bondsman. She had rejected these advances; and the time for such +exuberant submission, which must be founded on love and nourished by +it, was now passed. Still all his wishes and endeavours were directed +towards her peace, and his chief discomfort arose from the perception +that he exerted himself in vain. If she were to continue inflexible in +the line of conduct she now pursued, they must part. The combinations +and occurrences of this senseless mode of intercourse were maddening to +him. Yet he would not propose the separation. He was haunted by the +fear of causing the death of one or other of the beings implicated in +these events; and he could not persuade himself to undertake to direct +the course of events, lest, ignorant of the land he traversed, he +should lead those attached to the car into irremediable ruin. + +After a discussion on this subject, which lasted for several hours, he +took leave of his friends, and returned to town, unwilling to meet +Perdita before us, conscious, as we all must be, of the thoughts +uppermost in the minds of both. Perdita prepared to follow him with her +child. Idris endeavoured to persuade her to remain. My poor sister +looked at the counsellor with affright. She knew that Raymond had +conversed with her; had he instigated this request?—was this to be the +prelude to their eternal separation?—I have said, that the defects of +her character awoke and acquired vigour from her unnatural position. +She regarded with suspicion the invitation of Idris; she embraced me, +as if she were about to be deprived of my affection also: calling me +her more than brother, her only friend, her last hope, she pathetically +conjured me not to cease to love her; and with encreased anxiety she +departed for London, the scene and cause of all her misery. + +The scenes that followed, convinced her that she had not yet fathomed +the obscure gulph into which she had plunged. Her unhappiness assumed +every day a new shape; every day some unexpected event seemed to close, +while in fact it led onward, the train of calamities which now befell +her. + +The selected passion of the soul of Raymond was ambition. Readiness of +talent, a capacity of entering into, and leading the dispositions of +men; earnest desire of distinction were the awakeners and nurses of his +ambition. But other ingredients mingled with these, and prevented him +from becoming the calculating, determined character, which alone forms +a successful hero. He was obstinate, but not firm; benevolent in his +first movements; harsh and reckless when provoked. Above all, he was +remorseless and unyielding in the pursuit of any object of desire, +however lawless. Love of pleasure, and the softer sensibilities of our +nature, made a prominent part of his character, conquering the +conqueror; holding him in at the moment of acquisition; sweeping away +ambition’s web; making him forget the toil of weeks, for the sake of +one moment’s indulgence of the new and actual object of his wishes. +Obeying these impulses, he had become the husband of Perdita: egged on +by them, he found himself the lover of Evadne. He had now lost both. He +had neither the ennobling self-gratulation, which constancy inspires, +to console him, nor the voluptuous sense of abandonment to a forbidden, +but intoxicating passion. His heart was exhausted by the recent events; +his enjoyment of life was destroyed by the resentment of Perdita, and +the flight of Evadne; and the inflexibility of the former, set the last +seal upon the annihilation of his hopes. As long as their disunion +remained a secret, he cherished an expectation of re-awakening past +tenderness in her bosom; now that we were all made acquainted with +these occurrences, and that Perdita, by declaring her resolves to +others, in a manner pledged herself to their accomplishment, he gave up +the idea of re-union as futile, and sought only, since he was unable to +influence her to change, to reconcile himself to the present state of +things. He made a vow against love and its train of struggles, +disappointment and remorse, and sought in mere sensual enjoyment, a +remedy for the injurious inroads of passion. + +Debasement of character is the certain follower of such pursuits. Yet +this consequence would not have been immediately remarkable, if Raymond +had continued to apply himself to the execution of his plans for the +public benefit, and the fulfilling his duties as Protector. But, +extreme in all things, given up to immediate impressions, he entered +with ardour into this new pursuit of pleasure, and followed up the +incongruous intimacies occasioned by it without reflection or +foresight. The council-chamber was deserted; the crowds which attended +on him as agents to his various projects were neglected. Festivity, and +even libertinism, became the order of the day. + +Perdita beheld with affright the encreasing disorder. For a moment she +thought that she could stem the torrent, and that Raymond could be +induced to hear reason from her.—Vain hope! The moment of her influence +was passed. He listened with haughtiness, replied disdainfully; and, if +in truth, she succeeded in awakening his conscience, the sole effect +was that he sought an opiate for the pang in oblivious riot. With the +energy natural to her, Perdita then endeavoured to supply his place. +Their still apparent union permitted her to do much; but no woman +could, in the end, present a remedy to the encreasing negligence of the +Protector; who, as if seized with a paroxysm of insanity, trampled on +all ceremony, all order, all duty, and gave himself up to license. + +Reports of these strange proceedings reached us, and we were undecided +what method to adopt to restore our friend to himself and his country, +when Perdita suddenly appeared among us. She detailed the progress of +the mournful change, and entreated Adrian and myself to go up to +London, and endeavour to remedy the encreasing evil:—“Tell him,” she +cried, “tell Lord Raymond, that my presence shall no longer annoy him. +That he need not plunge into this destructive dissipation for the sake +of disgusting me, and causing me to fly. This purpose is now +accomplished; he will never see me more. But let me, it is my last +entreaty, let me in the praises of his countrymen and the prosperity of +England, find the choice of my youth justified.” + +During our ride up to town, Adrian and I discussed and argued upon +Raymond’s conduct, and his falling off from the hopes of permanent +excellence on his part, which he had before given us cause to +entertain. My friend and I had both been educated in one school, or +rather I was his pupil in the opinion, that steady adherence to +principle was the only road to honour; a ceaseless observance of the +laws of general utility, the only conscientious aim of human ambition. +But though we both entertained these ideas, we differed in their +application. Resentment added also a sting to my censure; and I +reprobated Raymond’s conduct in severe terms. Adrian was more benign, +more considerate. He admitted that the principles that I laid down were +the best; but he denied that they were the only ones. Quoting the text, +_there are many mansions in my father’s house_, he insisted that the +modes of becoming good or great, varied as much as the dispositions of +men, of whom it might be said, as of the leaves of the forest, there +were no two alike. + +We arrived in London at about eleven at night. We conjectured, +notwithstanding what we had heard, that we should find Raymond in St. +Stephen’s: thither we sped. The chamber was full—but there was no +Protector; and there was an austere discontent manifest on the +countenances of the leaders, and a whispering and busy tattle among the +underlings, not less ominous. We hastened to the palace of the +Protectorate. We found Raymond in his dining room with six others: the +bottle was being pushed about merrily, and had made considerable +inroads on the understanding of one or two. He who sat near Raymond was +telling a story, which convulsed the rest with laughter. + +Raymond sat among them, though while he entered into the spirit of the +hour, his natural dignity never forsook him. He was gay, playful, +fascinating—but never did he overstep the modesty of nature, or the +respect due to himself, in his wildest sallies. Yet I own, that +considering the task which Raymond had taken on himself as Protector of +England, and the cares to which it became him to attend, I was +exceedingly provoked to observe the worthless fellows on whom his time +was wasted, and the jovial if not drunken spirit which seemed on the +point of robbing him of his better self. I stood watching the scene, +while Adrian flitted like a shadow in among them, and, by a word and +look of sobriety, endeavoured to restore order in the assembly. Raymond +expressed himself delighted to see him, declaring that he should make +one in the festivity of the night. + +This action of Adrian provoked me. I was indignant that he should sit +at the same table with the companions of Raymond—men of abandoned +characters, or rather without any, the refuse of high-bred luxury, the +disgrace of their country. “Let me entreat Adrian,” I cried, “not to +comply: rather join with me in endeavouring to withdraw Lord Raymond +from this scene, and restore him to other society.” + +“My good fellow,” said Raymond, “this is neither the time nor place for +the delivery of a moral lecture: take my word for it that my amusements +and society are not so bad as you imagine. We are neither hypocrites or +fools —for the rest, ‘Dost thou think because thou art virtuous, there +shall be no more cakes and ale?’” + +I turned angrily away: “Verney,” said Adrian, “you are very cynical: +sit down; or if you will not, perhaps, as you are not a frequent +visitor, Lord Raymond will humour you, and accompany us, as we had +previously agreed upon, to parliament.” + +Raymond looked keenly at him; he could read benignity only in his +gentle lineaments; he turned to me, observing with scorn my moody and +stern demeanour. “Come,” said Adrian, “I have promised for you, enable +me to keep my engagement. Come with us.”—Raymond made an uneasy +movement, and laconically replied—“I won’t!” + +The party in the mean time had broken up. They looked at the pictures, +strolled into the other apartments, talked of billiards, and one by one +vanished. Raymond strode angrily up and down the room. I stood ready to +receive and reply to his reproaches. Adrian leaned against the wall. +“This is infinitely ridiculous,” he cried, “if you were school-boys, +you could not conduct yourselves more unreasonably.” + +“You do not understand,” said Raymond. “This is only part of a +system:—a scheme of tyranny to which I will never submit. Because I am +Protector of England, am I to be the only slave in its empire? My +privacy invaded, my actions censured, my friends insulted? But I will +get rid of the whole together.—Be you witnesses,” and he took the star, +insignia of office, from his breast, and threw it on the table. “I +renounce my office, I abdicate my power—assume it who will!”—- + +“Let him assume it,” exclaimed Adrian, “who can pronounce himself, or +whom the world will pronounce to be your superior. There does not exist +the man in England with adequate presumption. Know yourself, Raymond, +and your indignation will cease; your complacency return. A few months +ago, whenever we prayed for the prosperity of our country, or our own, +we at the same time prayed for the life and welfare of the Protector, +as indissolubly linked to it. Your hours were devoted to our benefit, +your ambition was to obtain our commendation. You decorated our towns +with edifices, you bestowed on us useful establishments, you gifted the +soil with abundant fertility. The powerful and unjust cowered at the +steps of your judgment-seat, and the poor and oppressed arose like +morn-awakened flowers under the sunshine of your protection. + +“Can you wonder that we are all aghast and mourn, when this appears +changed? But, come, this splenetic fit is already passed; resume your +functions; your partizans will hail you; your enemies be silenced; our +love, honour, and duty will again be manifested towards you. Master +yourself, Raymond, and the world is subject to you.” + +“All this would be very good sense, if addressed to another,” replied +Raymond, moodily, “con the lesson yourself, and you, the first peer of +the land, may become its sovereign. You the good, the wise, the just, +may rule all hearts. But I perceive, too soon for my own happiness, too +late for England’s good, that I undertook a task to which I am unequal. +I cannot rule myself. My passions are my masters; my smallest impulse +my tyrant. Do you think that I renounced the Protectorate (and I have +renounced it) in a fit of spleen? By the God that lives, I swear never +to take up that bauble again; never again to burthen myself with the +weight of care and misery, of which that is the visible sign. + +“Once I desired to be a king. It was in the hey-day of youth, in the +pride of boyish folly. I knew myself when I renounced it. I renounced +it to gain —no matter what—for that also I have lost. For many months I +have submitted to this mock majesty—this solemn jest. I am its dupe no +longer. I will be free. + +“I have lost that which adorned and dignified my life; that which +linked me to other men. Again I am a solitary man; and I will become +again, as in my early years, a wanderer, a soldier of fortune. My +friends, for Verney, I feel that you are my friend, do not endeavour to +shake my resolve. Perdita, wedded to an imagination, careless of what +is behind the veil, whose charactery is in truth faulty and vile, +Perdita has renounced me. With her it was pretty enough to play a +sovereign’s part; and, as in the recesses of your beloved forest we +acted masques, and imagined ourselves Arcadian shepherds, to please the +fancy of the moment—so was I content, more for Perdita’s sake than my +own, to take on me the character of one of the great ones of the earth; +to lead her behind the scenes of grandeur, to vary her life with a +short act of magnificence and power. This was to be the colour; love +and confidence the substance of our existence. But we must live, and +not act our lives; pursuing the shadow, I lost the reality—now I +renounce both. + +“Adrian, I am about to return to Greece, to become again a soldier, +perhaps a conqueror. Will you accompany me? You will behold new scenes; +see a new people; witness the mighty struggle there going forward +between civilization and barbarism; behold, and perhaps direct the +efforts of a young and vigorous population, for liberty and order. Come +with me. I have expected you. I waited for this moment; all is +prepared;—will you accompany me?” + +“I will,” replied Adrian. “Immediately?” + +“To-morrow if you will.” + +“Reflect!” I cried. + +“Wherefore?” asked Raymond—“My dear fellow, I have done nothing else +than reflect on this step the live-long summer; and be assured that +Adrian has condensed an age of reflection into this little moment. Do +not talk of reflection; from this moment I abjure it; this is my only +happy moment during a long interval of time. I must go, Lionel—the Gods +will it; and I must. Do not endeavour to deprive me of my companion, +the out-cast’s friend. + +“One word more concerning unkind, unjust Perdita. For a time, I thought +that, by watching a complying moment, fostering the still warm ashes, I +might relume in her the flame of love. It is more cold within her, than +a fire left by gypsies in winter-time, the spent embers crowned by a +pyramid of snow. Then, in endeavouring to do violence to my own +disposition, I made all worse than before. Still I think, that time, +and even absence, may restore her to me. Remember, that I love her +still, that my dearest hope is that she will again be mine. I know, +though she does not, how false the veil is which she has spread over +the reality—do not endeavour to rend this deceptive covering, but by +degrees withdraw it. Present her with a mirror, in which she may know +herself; and, when she is an adept in that necessary but difficult +science, she will wonder at her present mistake, and hasten to restore +to me, what is by right mine, her forgiveness, her kind thoughts, her +love.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +After these events, it was long before we were able to attain any +degree of composure. A moral tempest had wrecked our richly freighted +vessel, and we, remnants of the diminished crew, were aghast at the +losses and changes which we had undergone. Idris passionately loved her +brother, and could ill brook an absence whose duration was uncertain; +his society was dear and necessary to me—I had followed up my chosen +literary occupations with delight under his tutorship and assistance; +his mild philosophy, unerring reason, and enthusiastic friendship were +the best ingredient, the exalted spirit of our circle; even the +children bitterly regretted the loss of their kind playfellow. Deeper +grief oppressed Perdita. In spite of resentment, by day and night she +figured to herself the toils and dangers of the wanderers. Raymond +absent, struggling with difficulties, lost to the power and rank of the +Protectorate, exposed to the perils of war, became an object of anxious +interest; not that she felt any inclination to recall him, if recall +must imply a return to their former union. Such return she felt to be +impossible; and while she believed it to be thus, and with anguish +regretted that so it should be, she continued angry and impatient with +him, who occasioned her misery. These perplexities and regrets caused +her to bathe her pillow with nightly tears, and to reduce her in person +and in mind to the shadow of what she had been. She sought solitude, +and avoided us when in gaiety and unrestrained affection we met in a +family circle. Lonely musings, interminable wanderings, and solemn +music were her only pastimes. She neglected even her child; shutting +her heart against all tenderness, she grew reserved towards me, her +first and fast friend. + +I could not see her thus lost, without exerting myself to remedy the +evil —remediless I knew, if I could not in the end bring her to +reconcile herself to Raymond. Before he went I used every argument, +every persuasion to induce her to stop his journey. She answered the +one with a gush of tears—telling me that to be persuaded—life and the +goods of life were a cheap exchange. It was not will that she wanted, +but the capacity; again and again she declared, it were as easy to +enchain the sea, to put reins on the wind’s viewless courses, as for +her to take truth for falsehood, deceit for honesty, heartless +communion for sincere, confiding love. She answered my reasonings more +briefly, declaring with disdain, that the reason was hers; and, until I +could persuade her that the past could be unacted, that maturity could +go back to the cradle, and that all that was could become as though it +had never been, it was useless to assure her that no real change had +taken place in her fate. And thus with stern pride she suffered him to +go, though her very heart-strings cracked at the fulfilling of the act, +which rent from her all that made life valuable. + +To change the scene for her, and even for ourselves, all unhinged by +the cloud that had come over us, I persuaded my two remaining +companions that it were better that we should absent ourselves for a +time from Windsor. We visited the north of England, my native Ulswater, +and lingered in scenes dear from a thousand associations. We lengthened +our tour into Scotland, that we might see Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond; +thence we crossed to Ireland, and passed several weeks in the +neighbourhood of Killarney. The change of scene operated to a great +degree as I expected; after a year’s absence, Perdita returned in +gentler and more docile mood to Windsor. The first sight of this place +for a time unhinged her. Here every spot was distinct with associations +now grown bitter. The forest glades, the ferny dells, and lawny +uplands, the cultivated and cheerful country spread around the silver +pathway of ancient Thames, all earth, air, and wave, took up one choral +voice, inspired by memory, instinct with plaintive regret. + +But my essay towards bringing her to a saner view of her own situation, +did not end here. Perdita was still to a great degree uneducated. When +first she left her peasant life, and resided with the elegant and +cultivated Evadne, the only accomplishment she brought to any +perfection was that of painting, for which she had a taste almost +amounting to genius. This had occupied her in her lonely cottage, when +she quitted her Greek friend’s protection. Her pallet and easel were +now thrown aside; did she try to paint, thronging recollections made +her hand tremble, her eyes fill with tears. With this occupation she +gave up almost every other; and her mind preyed upon itself almost to +madness. + +For my own part, since Adrian had first withdrawn me from my selvatic +wilderness to his own paradise of order and beauty, I had been wedded +to literature. I felt convinced that however it might have been in +former times, in the present stage of the world, no man’s faculties +could be developed, no man’s moral principle be enlarged and liberal, +without an extensive acquaintance with books. To me they stood in the +place of an active career, of ambition, and those palpable excitements +necessary to the multitude. The collation of philosophical opinions, +the study of historical facts, the acquirement of languages, were at +once my recreation, and the serious aim of my life. I turned author +myself. My productions however were sufficiently unpretending; they +were confined to the biography of favourite historical characters, +especially those whom I believed to have been traduced, or about whom +clung obscurity and doubt. + +As my authorship increased, I acquired new sympathies and pleasures. I +found another and a valuable link to enchain me to my fellow-creatures; +my point of sight was extended, and the inclinations and capacities of +all human beings became deeply interesting to me. Kings have been +called the fathers of their people. Suddenly I became as it were the +father of all mankind. Posterity became my heirs. My thoughts were gems +to enrich the treasure house of man’s intellectual possessions; each +sentiment was a precious gift I bestowed on them. Let not these +aspirations be attributed to vanity. They were not expressed in words, +nor even reduced to form in my own mind; but they filled my soul, +exalting my thoughts, raising a glow of enthusiasm, and led me out of +the obscure path in which I before walked, into the bright +noon-enlightened highway of mankind, making me, citizen of the world, a +candidate for immortal honors, an eager aspirant to the praise and +sympathy of my fellow men. + +No one certainly ever enjoyed the pleasures of composition more +intensely than I. If I left the woods, the solemn music of the waving +branches, and the majestic temple of nature, I sought the vast halls of +the Castle, and looked over wide, fertile England, spread beneath our +regal mount, and listened the while to inspiring strains of music. At +such times solemn harmonies or spirit-stirring airs gave wings to my +lagging thoughts, permitting them, methought, to penetrate the last +veil of nature and her God, and to display the highest beauty in +visible expression to the understandings of men. As the music went on, +my ideas seemed to quit their mortal dwelling house; they shook their +pinions and began a flight, sailing on the placid current of thought, +filling the creation with new glory, and rousing sublime imagery that +else had slept voiceless. Then I would hasten to my desk, weave the +new-found web of mind in firm texture and brilliant colours, leaving +the fashioning of the material to a calmer moment. + +But this account, which might as properly belong to a former period of +my life as to the present moment, leads me far afield. It was the +pleasure I took in literature, the discipline of mind I found arise +from it, that made me eager to lead Perdita to the same pursuits. I +began with light hand and gentle allurement; first exciting her +curiosity, and then satisfying it in such a way as might occasion her, +at the same time that she half forgot her sorrows in occupation, to +find in the hours that succeeded a reaction of benevolence and +toleration. + +Intellectual activity, though not directed towards books, had always +been my sister’s characteristic. It had been displayed early in life, +leading her out to solitary musing among her native mountains, causing +her to form innumerous combinations from common objects, giving +strength to her perceptions, and swiftness to their arrangement. Love +had come, as the rod of the master-prophet, to swallow up every minor +propensity. Love had doubled all her excellencies, and placed a diadem +on her genius. Was she to cease to love? Take the colours and odour +from the rose, change the sweet nutriment of mother’s milk to gall and +poison; as easily might you wean Perdita from love. She grieved for the +loss of Raymond with an anguish, that exiled all smile from her lips, +and trenched sad lines on her brow of beauty. But each day seemed to +change the nature of her suffering, and every succeeding hour forced +her to alter (if so I may style it) the fashion of her soul’s mourning +garb. For a time music was able to satisfy the cravings of her mental +hunger, and her melancholy thoughts renewed themselves in each change +of key, and varied with every alteration in the strain. My schooling +first impelled her towards books; and, if music had been the food of +sorrow, the productions of the wise became its medicine. The +acquisition of unknown languages was too tedious an occupation, for one +who referred every expression to the universe within, and read not, as +many do, for the mere sake of filling up time; but who was still +questioning herself and her author, moulding every idea in a thousand +ways, ardently desirous for the discovery of truth in every sentence. +She sought to improve her understanding; mechanically her heart and +dispositions became soft and gentle under this benign discipline. After +awhile she discovered, that amidst all her newly acquired knowledge, +her own character, which formerly she fancied that she thoroughly +understood, became the first in rank among the terrae incognitae, the +pathless wilds of a country that had no chart. Erringly and strangely +she began the task of self-examination with self-condemnation. And then +again she became aware of her own excellencies, and began to balance +with juster scales the shades of good and evil. I, who longed beyond +words, to restore her to the happiness it was still in her power to +enjoy, watched with anxiety the result of these internal proceedings. + +But man is a strange animal. We cannot calculate on his forces like +that of an engine; and, though an impulse draw with a forty-horse power +at what appears willing to yield to one, yet in contempt of calculation +the movement is not effected. Neither grief, philosophy, nor love could +make Perdita think with mildness of the dereliction of Raymond. She now +took pleasure in my society; towards Idris she felt and displayed a +full and affectionate sense of her worth—she restored to her child in +abundant measure her tenderness and care. But I could discover, amidst +all her repinings, deep resentment towards Raymond, and an unfading +sense of injury, that plucked from me my hope, when I appeared nearest +to its fulfilment. Among other painful restrictions, she has occasioned +it to become a law among us, never to mention Raymond’s name before +her. She refused to read any communications from Greece, desiring me +only to mention when any arrived, and whether the wanderers were well. +It was curious that even little Clara observed this law towards her +mother. This lovely child was nearly eight years of age. Formerly she +had been a light-hearted infant, fanciful, but gay and childish. After +the departure of her father, thought became impressed on her young +brow. Children, unadepts in language, seldom find words to express +their thoughts, nor could we tell in what manner the late events had +impressed themselves on her mind. But certainly she had made deep +observations while she noted in silence the changes that passed around +her. She never mentioned her father to Perdita, she appeared half +afraid when she spoke of him to me, and though I tried to draw her out +on the subject, and to dispel the gloom that hung about her ideas +concerning him, I could not succeed. Yet each foreign post-day she +watched for the arrival of letters—knew the post mark, and watched me +as I read. I found her often poring over the article of Greek +intelligence in the newspaper. + +There is no more painful sight than that of untimely care in children, +and it was particularly observable in one whose disposition had +heretofore been mirthful. Yet there was so much sweetness and docility +about Clara, that your admiration was excited; and if the moods of mind +are calculated to paint the cheek with beauty, and endow motions with +grace, surely her contemplations must have been celestial; since every +lineament was moulded into loveliness, and her motions were more +harmonious than the elegant boundings of the fawns of her native +forest. I sometimes expostulated with Perdita on the subject of her +reserve; but she rejected my counsels, while her daughter’s sensibility +excited in her a tenderness still more passionate. + +After the lapse of more than a year, Adrian returned from Greece. + +When our exiles had first arrived, a truce was in existence between the +Turks and Greeks; a truce that was as sleep to the mortal frame, signal +of renewed activity on waking. With the numerous soldiers of Asia, with +all of warlike stores, ships, and military engines, that wealth and +power could command, the Turks at once resolved to crush an enemy, +which creeping on by degrees, had from their stronghold in the Morea, +acquired Thrace and Macedonia, and had led their armies even to the +gates of Constantinople, while their extensive commercial relations +gave every European nation an interest in their success. Greece +prepared for a vigorous resistance; it rose to a man; and the women, +sacrificing their costly ornaments, accoutred their sons for the war, +and bade them conquer or die with the spirit of the Spartan mother. The +talents and courage of Raymond were highly esteemed among the Greeks. +Born at Athens, that city claimed him for her own, and by giving him +the command of her peculiar division in the army, the +commander-in-chief only possessed superior power. He was numbered among +her citizens, his name was added to the list of Grecian heroes. His +judgment, activity, and consummate bravery, justified their choice. The +Earl of Windsor became a volunteer under his friend. + +“It is well,” said Adrian, “to prate of war in these pleasant shades, +and with much ill-spent oil make a show of joy, because many thousand +of our fellow-creatures leave with pain this sweet air and natal earth. +I shall not be suspected of being averse to the Greek cause; I know and +feel its necessity; it is beyond every other a good cause. I have +defended it with my sword, and was willing that my spirit should be +breathed out in its defence; freedom is of more worth than life, and +the Greeks do well to defend their privilege unto death. But let us not +deceive ourselves. The Turks are men; each fibre, each limb is as +feeling as our own, and every spasm, be it mental or bodily, is as +truly felt in a Turk’s heart or brain, as in a Greek’s. The last action +at which I was present was the taking of ——. The Turks resisted to the +last, the garrison perished on the ramparts, and we entered by assault. +Every breathing creature within the walls was massacred. Think you, +amidst the shrieks of violated innocence and helpless infancy, I did +not feel in every nerve the cry of a fellow being? They were men and +women, the sufferers, before they were Mahometans, and when they rise +turbanless from the grave, in what except their good or evil actions +will they be the better or worse than we? Two soldiers contended for a +girl, whose rich dress and extreme beauty excited the brutal appetites +of these wretches, who, perhaps good men among their families, were +changed by the fury of the moment into incarnated evils. An old man, +with a silver beard, decrepid and bald, he might be her grandfather, +interposed to save her; the battle axe of one of them clove his skull. +I rushed to her defence, but rage made them blind and deaf; they did +not distinguish my Christian garb or heed my words—words were blunt +weapons then, for while war cried “havoc,” and murder gave fit echo, +how could I— + +Turn back the tide of ills, relieving wrong +With mild accost of soothing eloquence? + + +One of the fellows, enraged at my interference, struck me with his +bayonet in the side, and I fell senseless. + +“This wound will probably shorten my life, having shattered a frame, +weak of itself. But I am content to die. I have learnt in Greece that +one man, more or less, is of small import, while human bodies remain to +fill up the thinned ranks of the soldiery; and that the identity of an +individual may be overlooked, so that the muster roll contain its full +numbers. All this has a different effect upon Raymond. He is able to +contemplate the ideal of war, while I am sensible only to its +realities. He is a soldier, a general. He can influence the +blood-thirsty war-dogs, while I resist their propensities vainly. The +cause is simple. Burke has said that, ‘in all bodies those who would +lead, must also, in a considerable degree, follow.’ —I cannot follow; +for I do not sympathize in their dreams of massacre and glory—to follow +and to lead in such a career, is the natural bent of Raymond’s mind. He +is always successful, and bids fair, at the same time that he acquires +high name and station for himself, to secure liberty, probably extended +empire, to the Greeks.” + +Perdita’s mind was not softened by this account. He, she thought, can +be great and happy without me. Would that I also had a career! Would +that I could freight some untried bark with all my hopes, energies, and +desires, and launch it forth into the ocean of life—bound for some +attainable point, with ambition or pleasure at the helm! But adverse +winds detain me on shore; like Ulysses, I sit at the water’s edge and +weep. But my nerveless hands can neither fell the trees, nor smooth the +planks. Under the influence of these melancholy thoughts, she became +more than ever in love with sorrow. Yet Adrian’s presence did some +good; he at once broke through the law of silence observed concerning +Raymond. At first she started from the unaccustomed sound; soon she got +used to it and to love it, and she listened with avidity to the account +of his achievements. Clara got rid also of her restraint; Adrian and +she had been old playfellows; and now, as they walked or rode together, +he yielded to her earnest entreaty, and repeated, for the hundredth +time, some tale of her father’s bravery, munificence, or justice. + +Each vessel in the mean time brought exhilarating tidings from Greece. +The presence of a friend in its armies and councils made us enter into +the details with enthusiasm; and a short letter now and then from +Raymond told us how he was engrossed by the interests of his adopted +country. The Greeks were strongly attached to their commercial +pursuits, and would have been satisfied with their present +acquisitions, had not the Turks roused them by invasion. The patriots +were victorious; a spirit of conquest was instilled; and already they +looked on Constantinople as their own. Raymond rose perpetually in +their estimation; but one man held a superior command to him in their +armies. He was conspicuous for his conduct and choice of position in a +battle fought in the plains of Thrace, on the banks of the Hebrus, +which was to decide the fate of Islam. The Mahometans were defeated, +and driven entirely from the country west of this river. The battle was +sanguinary, the loss of the Turks apparently irreparable; the Greeks, +in losing one man, forgot the nameless crowd strewed upon the bloody +field, and they ceased to value themselves on a victory, which cost +them— Raymond. + +At the battle of Makri he had led the charge of cavalry, and pursued +the fugitives even to the banks of the Hebrus. His favourite horse was +found grazing by the margin of the tranquil river. It became a question +whether he had fallen among the unrecognized; but no broken ornament or +stained trapping betrayed his fate. It was suspected that the Turks, +finding themselves possessed of so illustrious a captive, resolved to +satisfy their cruelty rather than their avarice, and fearful of the +interference of England, had come to the determination of concealing +for ever the cold-blooded murder of the soldier they most hated and +feared in the squadrons of their enemy. + +Raymond was not forgotten in England. His abdication of the +Protectorate had caused an unexampled sensation; and, when his +magnificent and manly system was contrasted with the narrow views of +succeeding politicians, the period of his elevation was referred to +with sorrow. The perpetual recurrence of his name, joined to most +honourable testimonials, in the Greek gazettes, kept up the interest he +had excited. He seemed the favourite child of fortune, and his untimely +loss eclipsed the world, and shewed forth the remnant of mankind with +diminished lustre. They clung with eagerness to the hope held out that +he might yet be alive. Their minister at Constantinople was urged to +make the necessary perquisitions, and should his existence be +ascertained, to demand his release. It was to be hoped that their +efforts would succeed, and that though now a prisoner, the sport of +cruelty and the mark of hate, he would be rescued from danger and +restored to the happiness, power, and honour which he deserved. + +The effect of this intelligence upon my sister was striking. She never +for a moment credited the story of his death; she resolved instantly to +go to Greece. Reasoning and persuasion were thrown away upon her; she +would endure no hindrance, no delay. It may be advanced for a truth, +that, if argument or entreaty can turn any one from a desperate +purpose, whose motive and end depends on the strength of the affections +only, then it is right so to turn them, since their docility shews, +that neither the motive nor the end were of sufficient force to bear +them through the obstacles attendant on their undertaking. If, on the +contrary, they are proof against expostulation, this very steadiness is +an omen of success; and it becomes the duty of those who love them, to +assist in smoothing the obstructions in their path. Such sentiments +actuated our little circle. Finding Perdita immoveable, we consulted as +to the best means of furthering her purpose. She could not go alone to +a country where she had no friends, where she might arrive only to hear +the dreadful news, which must overwhelm her with grief and remorse. +Adrian, whose health had always been weak, now suffered considerable +aggravation of suffering from the effects of his wound. Idris could not +endure to leave him in this state; nor was it right either to quit or +take with us a young family for a journey of this description. I +resolved at length to accompany Perdita. The separation from my Idris +was painful—but necessity reconciled us to it in some degree: necessity +and the hope of saving Raymond, and restoring him again to happiness +and Perdita. No delay was to ensue. Two days after we came to our +determination, we set out for Portsmouth, and embarked. The season was +May, the weather stormless; we were promised a prosperous voyage. +Cherishing the most fervent hopes, embarked on the waste ocean, we saw +with delight the receding shore of Britain, and on the wings of desire +outspeeded our well filled sails towards the South. The light curling +waves bore us onward, and old ocean smiled at the freight of love and +hope committed to his charge; it stroked gently its tempestuous plains, +and the path was smoothed for us. Day and night the wind right aft, +gave steady impulse to our keel—nor did rough gale, or treacherous +sand, or destructive rock interpose an obstacle between my sister and +the land which was to restore her to her first beloved, + +Her dear heart’s confessor—a heart within that heart. + + + + +VOL. II. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +During this voyage, when on calm evenings we conversed on deck, +watching the glancing of the waves and the changeful appearances of the +sky, I discovered the total revolution that the disasters of Raymond +had wrought in the mind of my sister. Were they the same waters of +love, which, lately cold and cutting as ice, repelling as that, now +loosened from their frozen chains, flowed through the regions of her +soul in gushing and grateful exuberance? She did not believe that he +was dead, but she knew that he was in danger, and the hope of assisting +in his liberation, and the idea of soothing by tenderness the ills that +he might have undergone, elevated and harmonized the late jarring +element of her being. I was not so sanguine as she as to the result of +our voyage. She was not sanguine, but secure; and the expectation of +seeing the lover she had banished, the husband, friend, heart’s +companion from whom she had long been alienated, wrapt her senses in +delight, her mind in placidity. It was beginning life again; it was +leaving barren sands for an abode of fertile beauty; it was a harbour +after a tempest, an opiate after sleepless nights, a happy waking from +a terrible dream. + +Little Clara accompanied us; the poor child did not well understand +what was going forward. She heard that we were bound for Greece, that +she would see her father, and now, for the first time, she prattled of +him to her mother. + +On landing at Athens we found difficulties encrease upon us: nor could +the storied earth or balmy atmosphere inspire us with enthusiasm or +pleasure, while the fate of Raymond was in jeopardy. No man had ever +excited so strong an interest in the public mind; this was apparent +even among the phlegmatic English, from whom he had long been absent. +The Athenians had expected their hero to return in triumph; the women +had taught their children to lisp his name joined to thanksgiving; his +manly beauty, his courage, his devotion to their cause, made him appear +in their eyes almost as one of the ancient deities of the soil +descended from their native Olympus to defend them. When they spoke of +his probable death and certain captivity, tears streamed from their +eyes; even as the women of Syria sorrowed for Adonis, did the wives and +mothers of Greece lament our English Raymond—Athens was a city of +mourning. + +All these shews of despair struck Perdita with affright. With that +sanguine but confused expectation, which desire engendered while she +was at a distance from reality, she had formed an image in her mind of +instantaneous change, when she should set her foot on Grecian shores. +She fancied that Raymond would already be free, and that her tender +attentions would come to entirely obliterate even the memory of his +mischance. But his fate was still uncertain; she began to fear the +worst, and to feel that her soul’s hope was cast on a chance that might +prove a blank. The wife and lovely child of Lord Raymond became objects +of intense interest in Athens. The gates of their abode were besieged, +audible prayers were breathed for his restoration; all these +circumstances added to the dismay and fears of Perdita. + +My exertions were unremitted: after a time I left Athens, and joined +the army stationed at Kishan in Thrace. Bribery, threats, and intrigue, +soon discovered the secret that Raymond was alive, a prisoner, +suffering the most rigorous confinement and wanton cruelties. We put in +movement every impulse of policy and money to redeem him from their +hands. + +The impatience of my sister’s disposition now returned on her, awakened +by repentance, sharpened by remorse. The very beauty of the Grecian +climate, during the season of spring, added torture to her sensations. +The unexampled loveliness of the flower-clad earth—the genial sunshine +and grateful shade—the melody of the birds—the majesty of the woods— +the splendour of the marble ruins—the clear effulgence of the stars by +night—the combination of all that was exciting and voluptuous in this +transcending land, by inspiring a quicker spirit of life and an added +sensitiveness to every articulation of her frame, only gave edge to the +poignancy of her grief. Each long hour was counted, and “_He suffers_” +was the burthen of all her thoughts. She abstained from food; she lay +on the bare earth, and, by such mimickry of his enforced torments, +endeavoured to hold communion with his distant pain. I remembered in +one of her harshest moments a quotation of mine had roused her to anger +and disdain. “Perdita,” I had said, “some day you will discover that +you have done wrong in again casting Raymond on the thorns of life. +When disappointment has sullied his beauty, when a soldier’s hardships +have bent his manly form, and loneliness made even triumph bitter to +him, then you will repent; and regret for the irreparable change + +“will move + In hearts all rocky now, the late remorse of love.”[1] + + +The stinging “remorse of love” now pierced her heart. She accused +herself of his journey to Greece—his dangers—his imprisonment. She +pictured to herself the anguish of his solitude; she remembered with +what eager delight he had in former days made her the partner of his +joyful hopes— with what grateful affection he received her sympathy in +his cares. She called to mind how often he had declared that solitude +was to him the greatest of all evils, and how death itself was to him +more full of fear and pain when he pictured to himself a lonely grave. +“My best girl,” he had said, “relieves me from these phantasies. United +to her, cherished in her dear heart, never again shall I know the +misery of finding myself alone. Even if I die before you, my Perdita, +treasure up my ashes till yours may mingle with mine. It is a foolish +sentiment for one who is not a materialist, yet, methinks, even in that +dark cell, I may feel that my inanimate dust mingles with yours, and +thus have a companion in decay.” In her resentful mood, these +expressions had been remembered with acrimony and disdain; they visited +her in her softened hour, taking sleep from her eyes, all hope of rest +from her uneasy mind. + +Two months passed thus, when at last we obtained a promise of Raymond’s +release. Confinement and hardship had undermined his health; the Turks +feared an accomplishment of the threats of the English government, if +he died under their hands; they looked upon his recovery as impossible; +they delivered him up as a dying man, willingly making over to us the +rites of burial. + +He came by sea from Constantinople to Athens. The wind, favourable to +him, blew so strongly in shore, that we were unable, as we had at first +intended, to meet him on his watery road. The watchtower of Athens was +besieged by inquirers, each sail eagerly looked out for; till on the +first of May the gallant frigate bore in sight, freighted with treasure +more invaluable than the wealth which, piloted from Mexico, the vexed +Pacific swallowed, or that was conveyed over its tranquil bosom to +enrich the crown of Spain. At early dawn the vessel was discovered +bearing in shore; it was conjectured that it would cast anchor about +five miles from land. The news spread through Athens, and the whole +city poured out at the gate of the Piraeus, down the roads, through the +vineyards, the olive woods and plantations of fig-trees, towards the +harbour. The noisy joy of the populace, the gaudy colours of their +dress, the tumult of carriages and horses, the march of soldiers +intermixed, the waving of banners and sound of martial music added to +the high excitement of the scene; while round us reposed in solemn +majesty the relics of antient time. To our right the Acropolis rose +high, spectatress of a thousand changes, of ancient glory, Turkish +slavery, and the restoration of dear-bought liberty; tombs and +cenotaphs were strewed thick around, adorned by ever renewing +vegetation; the mighty dead hovered over their monuments, and beheld in +our enthusiasm and congregated numbers a renewal of the scenes in which +they had been the actors. Perdita and Clara rode in a close carriage; I +attended them on horseback. At length we arrived at the harbour; it was +agitated by the outward swell of the sea; the beach, as far could be +discerned, was covered by a moving multitude, which, urged by those +behind toward the sea, again rushed back as the heavy waves with sullen +roar burst close to them. I applied my glass, and could discern that +the frigate had already cast anchor, fearful of the danger of +approaching nearer to a lee shore: a boat was lowered; with a pang I +saw that Raymond was unable to descend the vessel’s side; he was let +down in a chair, and lay wrapt in cloaks at the bottom of the boat. + +I dismounted, and called to some sailors who were rowing about the +harbour to pull up, and take me into their skiff; Perdita at the same +moment alighted from her carriage—she seized my arm—“Take me with you,” +she cried; she was trembling and pale; Clara clung to her—“You must +not,” I said, “the sea is rough—he will soon be here—do you not see his +boat?” The little bark to which I had beckoned had now pulled up; +before I could stop her, Perdita, assisted by the sailors was in +it—Clara followed her mother—a loud shout echoed from the crowd as we +pulled out of the inner harbour; while my sister at the prow, had +caught hold of one of the men who was using a glass, asking a thousand +questions, careless of the spray that broke over her, deaf, sightless +to all, except the little speck that, just visible on the top of the +waves, evidently neared. We approached with all the speed six rowers +could give; the orderly and picturesque dress of the soldiers on the +beach, the sounds of exulting music, the stirring breeze and waving +flags, the unchecked exclamations of the eager crowd, whose dark looks +and foreign garb were purely eastern; the sight of temple-crowned rock, +the white marble of the buildings glittering in the sun, and standing +in bright relief against the dark ridge of lofty mountains beyond; the +near roar of the sea, the splash of oars, and dash of spray, all +steeped my soul in a delirium, unfelt, unimagined in the common course +of common life. Trembling, I was unable to continue to look through the +glass with which I had watched the motion of the crew, when the +frigate’s boat had first been launched. We rapidly drew near, so that +at length the number and forms of those within could be discerned; its +dark sides grew big, and the splash of its oars became audible: I could +distinguish the languid form of my friend, as he half raised himself at +our approach. + +Perdita’s questions had ceased; she leaned on my arm, panting with +emotions too acute for tears—our men pulled alongside the other boat. +As a last effort, my sister mustered her strength, her firmness; she +stepped from one boat to the other, and then with a shriek she sprang +towards Raymond, knelt at his side, and glueing her lips to the hand +she seized, her face shrouded by her long hair, gave herself up to +tears. + +Raymond had somewhat raised himself at our approach, but it was with +difficulty that he exerted himself even thus much. With sunken cheek +and hollow eyes, pale and gaunt, how could I recognize the beloved of +Perdita? I continued awe-struck and mute—he looked smilingly on the +poor girl; the smile was his. A day of sun-shine falling on a dark +valley, displays its before hidden characteristics; and now this smile, +the same with which he first spoke love to Perdita, with which he had +welcomed the protectorate, playing on his altered countenance, made me +in my heart’s core feel that this was Raymond. + +He stretched out to me his other hand; I discerned the trace of +manacles on his bared wrist. I heard my sister’s sobs, and thought, +happy are women who can weep, and in a passionate caress disburthen the +oppression of their feelings; shame and habitual restraint hold back a +man. I would have given worlds to have acted as in days of boyhood, +have strained him to my breast, pressed his hand to my lips, and wept +over him; my swelling heart choked me; the natural current would not be +checked; the big rebellious tears gathered in my eyes; I turned aside, +and they dropped in the sea—they came fast and faster;—yet I could +hardly be ashamed, for I saw that the rough sailors were not unmoved, +and Raymond’s eyes alone were dry from among our crew. He lay in that +blessed calm which convalescence always induces, enjoying in secure +tranquillity his liberty and re-union with her whom he adored. Perdita +at length subdued her burst of passion, and rose, —she looked round for +Clara; the child frightened, not recognizing her father, and neglected +by us, had crept to the other end of the boat; she came at her mother’s +call. Perdita presented her to Raymond; her first words were: “Beloved, +embrace our child!” + +“Come hither, sweet one,” said her father, “do you not know me?” she +knew his voice, and cast herself in his arms with half bashful but +uncontrollable emotion. + +Perceiving the weakness of Raymond, I was afraid of ill consequences +from the pressure of the crowd on his landing. But they were awed as I +had been, at the change of his appearance. The music died away, the +shouts abruptly ended; the soldiers had cleared a space in which a +carriage was drawn up. He was placed in it; Perdita and Clara entered +with him, and his escort closed round it; a hollow murmur, akin to the +roaring of the near waves, went through the multitude; they fell back +as the carriage advanced, and fearful of injuring him they had come to +welcome, by loud testimonies of joy, they satisfied themselves with +bending in a low salaam as the carriage passed; it went slowly along +the road of the Piraeus; passed by antique temple and heroic tomb, +beneath the craggy rock of the citadel. The sound of the waves was left +behind; that of the multitude continued at intervals, supressed and +hoarse; and though, in the city, the houses, churches, and public +buildings were decorated with tapestry and banners—though the soldiery +lined the streets, and the inhabitants in thousands were assembled to +give him hail, the same solemn silence prevailed, the soldiery +presented arms, the banners vailed, many a white hand waved a streamer, +and vainly sought to discern the hero in the vehicle, which, closed and +encompassed by the city guards, drew him to the palace allotted for his +abode. + +Raymond was weak and exhausted, yet the interest he perceived to be +excited on his account, filled him with proud pleasure. He was nearly +killed with kindness. It is true, the populace retained themselves; but +there arose a perpetual hum and bustle from the throng round the +palace, which added to the noise of fireworks, the frequent explosion +of arms, the tramp to and fro of horsemen and carriages, to which +effervescence he was the focus, retarded his recovery. So we retired +awhile to Eleusis, and here rest and tender care added each day to the +strength of our invalid. The zealous attention of Perdita claimed the +first rank in the causes which induced his rapid recovery; but the +second was surely the delight he felt in the affection and good will of +the Greeks. We are said to love much those whom we greatly benefit. +Raymond had fought and conquered for the Athenians; he had suffered, on +their account, peril, imprisonment, and hardship; their gratitude +affected him deeply, and he inly vowed to unite his fate for ever to +that of a people so enthusiastically devoted to him. + +Social feeling and sympathy constituted a marked feature in my +disposition. In early youth, the living drama acted around me, drew me +heart and soul into its vortex. I was now conscious of a change. I +loved, I hoped, I enjoyed; but there was something besides this. I was +inquisitive as to the internal principles of action of those around me: +anxious to read their thoughts justly, and for ever occupied in +divining their inmost mind. All events, at the same time that they +deeply interested me, arranged themselves in pictures before me. I gave +the right place to every personage in the groupe, the just balance to +every sentiment. This undercurrent of thought, often soothed me amidst +distress, and even agony. It gave ideality to that, from which, taken +in naked truth, the soul would have revolted: it bestowed pictorial +colours on misery and disease, and not unfrequently relieved me from +despair in deplorable changes. This faculty, or instinct, was now +rouzed. I watched the re-awakened devotion of my sister; Clara’s timid, +but concentrated admiration of her father, and Raymond’s appetite for +renown, and sensitiveness to the demonstrations of affection of the +Athenians. Attentively perusing this animated volume, I was the less +surprised at the tale I read on the new-turned page. + +The Turkish army were at this time besieging Rodosto; and the Greeks, +hastening their preparations, and sending each day reinforcements, were +on the eve of forcing the enemy to battle. Each people looked on the +coming struggle as that which would be to a great degree decisive; as, +in case of victory, the next step would be the siege of Constantinople +by the Greeks. Raymond, being somewhat recovered, prepared to re-assume +his command in the army. + +Perdita did not oppose herself to his determination. She only +stipulated to be permitted to accompany him. She had set down no rule +of conduct for herself; but for her life she could not have opposed his +slightest wish, or do other than acquiesce cheerfully in all his +projects. One word, in truth, had alarmed her more than battles or +sieges, during which she trusted Raymond’s high command would exempt +him from danger. That word, as yet it was not more to her, was PLAGUE. +This enemy to the human race had begun early in June to raise its +serpent-head on the shores of the Nile; parts of Asia, not usually +subject to this evil, were infected. It was in Constantinople; but as +each year that city experienced a like visitation, small attention was +paid to those accounts which declared more people to have died there +already, than usually made up the accustomed prey of the whole of the +hotter months. However it might be, neither plague nor war could +prevent Perdita from following her lord, or induce her to utter one +objection to the plans which he proposed. To be near him, to be loved +by him, to feel him again her own, was the limit of her desires. The +object of her life was to do him pleasure: it had been so before, but +with a difference. In past times, without thought or foresight she had +made him happy, being so herself, and in any question of choice, +consulted her own wishes, as being one with his. Now she sedulously put +herself out of the question, sacrificing even her anxiety for his +health and welfare to her resolve not to oppose any of his desires. +Love of the Greek people, appetite for glory, and hatred of the +barbarian government under which he had suffered even to the approach +of death, stimulated him. He wished to repay the kindness of the +Athenians, to keep alive the splendid associations connected with his +name, and to eradicate from Europe a power which, while every other +nation advanced in civilization, stood still, a monument of antique +barbarism. Having effected the reunion of Raymond and Perdita, I was +eager to return to England; but his earnest request, added to awakening +curiosity, and an indefinable anxiety to behold the catastrophe, now +apparently at hand, in the long drawn history of Grecian and Turkish +warfare, induced me to consent to prolong until the autumn, the period +of my residence in Greece. + +As soon as the health of Raymond was sufficiently re-established, he +prepared to join the Grecian camp, near Kishan, a town of some +importance, situated to the east of the Hebrus; in which Perdita and +Clara were to remain until the event of the expected battle. We quitted +Athens on the 2nd of June. Raymond had recovered from the gaunt and +pallid looks of fever. If I no longer saw the fresh glow of youth on +his matured countenance, if care had besieged his brow, + +“And dug deep trenches in his beauty’s field,”[2] + + +if his hair, slightly mingled with grey, and his look, considerate even +in its eagerness, gave signs of added years and past sufferings, yet +there was something irresistibly affecting in the sight of one, lately +snatched from the grave, renewing his career, untamed by sickness or +disaster. The Athenians saw in him, not as heretofore, the heroic boy +or desperate man, who was ready to die for them; but the prudent +commander, who for their sakes was careful of his life, and could make +his own warrior-propensities second to the scheme of conduct policy +might point out. + +All Athens accompanied us for several miles. When he had landed a month +ago, the noisy populace had been hushed by sorrow and fear; but this +was a festival day to all. The air resounded with their shouts; their +picturesque costume, and the gay colours of which it was composed, +flaunted in the sunshine; their eager gestures and rapid utterance +accorded with their wild appearance. Raymond was the theme of every +tongue, the hope of each wife, mother or betrothed bride, whose +husband, child, or lover, making a part of the Greek army, were to be +conducted to victory by him. + +Notwithstanding the hazardous object of our journey, it was full of +romantic interest, as we passed through the vallies, and over the +hills, of this divine country. Raymond was inspirited by the intense +sensations of recovered health; he felt that in being general of the +Athenians, he filled a post worthy of his ambition; and, in his hope of +the conquest of Constantinople, he counted on an event which would be +as a landmark in the waste of ages, an exploit unequalled in the annals +of man; when a city of grand historic association, the beauty of whose +site was the wonder of the world, which for many hundred years had been +the strong hold of the Moslems, should be rescued from slavery and +barbarism, and restored to a people illustrious for genius, +civilization, and a spirit of liberty. Perdita rested on his restored +society, on his love, his hopes and fame, even as a Sybarite on a +luxurious couch; every thought was transport, each emotion bathed as it +were in a congenial and balmy element. + +We arrived at Kishan on the 7th of July. The weather during our journey +had been serene. Each day, before dawn, we left our night’s encampment, +and watched the shadows as they retreated from hill and valley, and the +golden splendour of the sun’s approach. The accompanying soldiers +received, with national vivacity, enthusiastic pleasure from the sight +of beautiful nature. The uprising of the star of day was hailed by +triumphant strains, while the birds, heard by snatches, filled up the +intervals of the music. At noon, we pitched our tents in some shady +valley, or embowering wood among the mountains, while a stream +prattling over pebbles induced grateful sleep. Our evening march, more +calm, was yet more delightful than the morning restlessness of spirit. +If the band played, involuntarily they chose airs of moderated passion; +the farewell of love, or lament at absence, was followed and closed by +some solemn hymn, which harmonized with the tranquil loveliness of +evening, and elevated the soul to grand and religious thought. Often +all sounds were suspended, that we might listen to the nightingale, +while the fire-flies danced in bright measure, and the soft cooing of +the aziolo spoke of fair weather to the travellers. Did we pass a +valley? Soft shades encompassed us, and rocks tinged with beauteous +hues. If we traversed a mountain, Greece, a living map, was spread +beneath, her renowned pinnacles cleaving the ether; her rivers +threading in silver line the fertile land. Afraid almost to breathe, we +English travellers surveyed with extasy this splendid landscape, so +different from the sober hues and melancholy graces of our native +scenery. When we quitted Macedonia, the fertile but low plains of +Thrace afforded fewer beauties; yet our journey continued to be +interesting. An advanced guard gave information of our approach, and +the country people were quickly in motion to do honour to Lord Raymond. +The villages were decorated by triumphal arches of greenery by day, and +lamps by night; tapestry waved from the windows, the ground was strewed +with flowers, and the name of Raymond, joined to that of Greece, was +echoed in the _Evive_ of the peasant crowd. + +When we arrived at Kishan, we learnt, that on hearing of the advance of +Lord Raymond and his detachment, the Turkish army had retreated from +Rodosto; but meeting with a reinforcement, they had re-trod their +steps. In the meantime, Argyropylo, the Greek commander-in-chief, had +advanced, so as to be between the Turks and Rodosto; a battle, it was +said, was inevitable. Perdita and her child were to remain at Kishan. +Raymond asked me, if I would not continue with them. “Now by the fells +of Cumberland,” I cried, “by all of the vagabond and poacher that +appertains to me, I will stand at your side, draw my sword in the Greek +cause, and be hailed as a victor along with you!” + +All the plain, from Kishan to Rodosto, a distance of sixteen leagues, +was alive with troops, or with the camp-followers, all in motion at the +approach of a battle. The small garrisons were drawn from the various +towns and fortresses, and went to swell the main army. We met baggage +waggons, and many females of high and low rank returning to Fairy or +Kishan, there to wait the issue of the expected day. When we arrived at +Rodosto, we found that the field had been taken, and the scheme of the +battle arranged. The sound of firing, early on the following morning, +informed us that advanced posts of the armies were engaged. Regiment +after regiment advanced, their colours flying and bands playing. They +planted the cannon on the tumuli, sole elevations in this level +country, and formed themselves into column and hollow square; while the +pioneers threw up small mounds for their protection. + +These then were the preparations for a battle, nay, the battle itself; +far different from any thing the imagination had pictured. We read of +centre and wing in Greek and Roman history; we fancy a spot, plain as a +table, and soldiers small as chessmen; and drawn forth, so that the +most ignorant of the game can discover science and order in the +disposition of the forces. When I came to the reality, and saw +regiments file off to the left far out of sight, fields intervening +between the battalions, but a few troops sufficiently near me to +observe their motions, I gave up all idea of understanding, even of +seeing a battle, but attaching myself to Raymond attended with intense +interest to his actions. He shewed himself collected, gallant and +imperial; his commands were prompt, his intuition of the events of the +day to me miraculous. In the mean time the cannon roared; the music +lifted up its enlivening voice at intervals; and we on the highest of +the mounds I mentioned, too far off to observe the fallen sheaves which +death gathered into his storehouse, beheld the regiments, now lost in +smoke, now banners and staves peering above the cloud, while shout and +clamour drowned every sound. + +Early in the day, Argyropylo was wounded dangerously, and Raymond +assumed the command of the whole army. He made few remarks, till, on +observing through his glass the sequel of an order he had given, his +face, clouded for awhile with doubt, became radiant. “The day is ours,” +he cried, “the Turks fly from the bayonet.” And then swiftly he +dispatched his aides-de-camp to command the horse to fall on the routed +enemy. The defeat became total; the cannon ceased to roar; the infantry +rallied, and horse pursued the flying Turks along the dreary plain; the +staff of Raymond was dispersed in various directions, to make +observations, and bear commands. Even I was dispatched to a distant +part of the field. + +The ground on which the battle was fought, was a level plain—so level, +that from the tumuli you saw the waving line of mountains on the +wide-stretched horizon; yet the intervening space was unvaried by the +least irregularity, save such undulations as resembled the waves of the +sea. The whole of this part of Thrace had been so long a scene of +contest, that it had remained uncultivated, and presented a dreary, +barren appearance. The order I had received, was to make an observation +of the direction which a detachment of the enemy might have taken, from +a northern tumulus; the whole Turkish army, followed by the Greek, had +poured eastward; none but the dead remained in the direction of my +side. From the top of the mound, I looked far round—all was silent and +deserted. + +The last beams of the nearly sunken sun shot up from behind the far +summit of Mount Athos; the sea of Marmora still glittered beneath its +rays, while the Asiatic coast beyond was half hid in a haze of low +cloud. Many a casque, and bayonet, and sword, fallen from unnerved +arms, reflected the departing ray; they lay scattered far and near. +From the east, a band of ravens, old inhabitants of the Turkish +cemeteries, came sailing along towards their harvest; the sun +disappeared. This hour, melancholy yet sweet, has always seemed to me +the time when we are most naturally led to commune with higher powers; +our mortal sternness departs, and gentle complacency invests the soul. +But now, in the midst of the dying and the dead, how could a thought of +heaven or a sensation of tranquillity possess one of the murderers? +During the busy day, my mind had yielded itself a willing slave to the +state of things presented to it by its fellow-beings; historical +association, hatred of the foe, and military enthusiasm had held +dominion over me. Now, I looked on the evening star, as softly and +calmly it hung pendulous in the orange hues of sunset. I turned to the +corse-strewn earth; and felt ashamed of my species. So perhaps were the +placid skies; for they quickly veiled themselves in mist, and in this +change assisted the swift disappearance of twilight usual in the south; +heavy masses of cloud floated up from the south east, and red and +turbid lightning shot from their dark edges; the rushing wind disturbed +the garments of the dead, and was chilled as it passed over their icy +forms. Darkness gathered round; the objects about me became indistinct, +I descended from my station, and with difficulty guided my horse, so as +to avoid the slain. + +Suddenly I heard a piercing shriek; a form seemed to rise from the +earth; it flew swiftly towards me, sinking to the ground again as it +drew near. All this passed so suddenly, that I with difficulty reined +in my horse, so that it should not trample on the prostrate being. The +dress of this person was that of a soldier, but the bared neck and +arms, and the continued shrieks discovered a female thus disguised. I +dismounted to her aid, while she, with heavy groans, and her hand +placed on her side, resisted my attempt to lead her on. In the hurry of +the moment I forgot that I was in Greece, and in my native accents +endeavoured to soothe the sufferer. With wild and terrific exclamations +did the lost, dying Evadne (for it was she) recognize the language of +her lover; pain and fever from her wound had deranged her intellects, +while her piteous cries and feeble efforts to escape, penetrated me +with compassion. In wild delirium she called upon the name of Raymond; +she exclaimed that I was keeping him from her, while the Turks with +fearful instruments of torture were about to take his life. Then again +she sadly lamented her hard fate; that a woman, with a woman’s heart +and sensibility, should be driven by hopeless love and vacant hopes to +take up the trade of arms, and suffer beyond the endurance of man +privation, labour, and pain—the while her dry, hot hand pressed mine, +and her brow and lips burned with consuming fire. + +As her strength grew less, I lifted her from the ground; her emaciated +form hung over my arm, her sunken cheek rested on my breast; in a +sepulchral voice she murmured:—“This is the end of love!—Yet not the +end!”— and frenzy lent her strength as she cast her arm up to heaven: +“there is the end! there we meet again. Many living deaths have I borne +for thee, O Raymond, and now I expire, thy victim!—By my death I +purchase thee— lo! the instruments of war, fire, the plague are my +servitors. I dared, I conquered them all, till now! I have sold myself +to death, with the sole condition that thou shouldst follow me—Fire, +and war, and plague, unite for thy destruction—O my Raymond, there is +no safety for thee!” + +With an heavy heart I listened to the changes of her delirium; I made +her a bed of cloaks; her violence decreased and a clammy dew stood on +her brow as the paleness of death succeeded to the crimson of fever, I +placed her on the cloaks. She continued to rave of her speedy meeting +with her beloved in the grave, of his death nigh at hand; sometimes she +solemnly declared that he was summoned; sometimes she bewailed his hard +destiny. Her voice grew feebler, her speech interrupted; a few +convulsive movements, and her muscles relaxed, the limbs fell, no more +to be sustained, one deep sigh, and life was gone. + +I bore her from the near neighbourhood of the dead; wrapt in cloaks, I +placed her beneath a tree. Once more I looked on her altered face; the +last time I saw her she was eighteen; beautiful as poet’s vision, +splendid as a Sultana of the East—Twelve years had past; twelve years +of change, sorrow and hardship; her brilliant complexion had become +worn and dark, her limbs had lost the roundness of youth and womanhood; +her eyes had sunk deep, + + Crushed and o’erworn, +The hours had drained her blood, and filled her brow +With lines and wrinkles. + + +With shuddering horror I veiled this monument of human passion and +human misery; I heaped over her all of flags and heavy accoutrements I +could find, to guard her from birds and beasts of prey, until I could +bestow on her a fitting grave. Sadly and slowly I stemmed my course +from among the heaps of slain, and, guided by the twinkling lights of +the town, at length reached Rodosto. + + [1] Lord Byron’s Fourth Canto of Childe Harolde. + + + [2] Shakspeare’s Sonnets. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +On my arrival, I found that an order had already gone forth for the +army to proceed immediately towards Constantinople; and the troops +which had suffered least in the battle were already on their way. The +town was full of tumult. The wound, and consequent inability of +Argyropylo, caused Raymond to be the first in command. He rode through +the town, visiting the wounded, and giving such orders as were +necessary for the siege he meditated. Early in the morning the whole +army was in motion. In the hurry I could hardly find an opportunity to +bestow the last offices on Evadne. Attended only by my servant, I dug a +deep grave for her at the foot of the tree, and without disturbing her +warrior shroud, I placed her in it, heaping stones upon the grave. The +dazzling sun and glare of daylight, deprived the scene of solemnity; +from Evadne’s low tomb, I joined Raymond and his staff, now on their +way to the Golden City. + +Constantinople was invested, trenches dug, and advances made. The whole +Greek fleet blockaded it by sea; on land from the river Kyat Kbanah, +near the Sweet Waters, to the Tower of Marmora, on the shores of the +Propontis, along the whole line of the ancient walls, the trenches of +the siege were drawn. We already possessed Pera; the Golden Horn +itself, the city, bastioned by the sea, and the ivy-mantled walls of +the Greek emperors was all of Europe that the Mahometans could call +theirs. Our army looked on her as certain prey. They counted the +garrison; it was impossible that it should be relieved; each sally was +a victory; for, even when the Turks were triumphant, the loss of men +they sustained was an irreparable injury. I rode one morning with +Raymond to the lofty mound, not far from the Top Kapou, (Cannon-gate), +on which Mahmoud planted his standard, and first saw the city. Still +the same lofty domes and minarets towered above the verdurous walls, +where Constantine had died, and the Turk had entered the city. The +plain around was interspersed with cemeteries, Turk, Greek, and +Armenian, with their growth of cypress trees; and other woods of more +cheerful aspect, diversified the scene. Among them the Greek army was +encamped, and their squadrons moved to and fro—now in regular march, +now in swift career. + +Raymond’s eyes were fixed on the city. “I have counted the hours of her +life,” said he; “one month, and she falls. Remain with me till then; +wait till you see the cross on St. Sophia; and then return to your +peaceful glades.” + +“You then,” I asked, “still remain in Greece?” + +“Assuredly,” replied Raymond. “Yet Lionel, when I say this, believe me +I look back with regret to our tranquil life at Windsor. I am but half +a soldier; I love the renown, but not the trade of war. Before the +battle of Rodosto I was full of hope and spirit; to conquer there, and +afterwards to take Constantinople, was the hope, the bourne, the +fulfilment of my ambition. This enthusiasm is now spent, I know not +why; I seem to myself to be entering a darksome gulph; the ardent +spirit of the army is irksome to me, the rapture of triumph null.” + +He paused, and was lost in thought. His serious mien recalled, by some +association, the half-forgotten Evadne to my mind, and I seized this +opportunity to make enquiries from him concerning her strange lot. I +asked him, if he had ever seen among the troops any one resembling her; +if since he had returned to Greece he had heard of her? + +He started at her name,—he looked uneasily on me. “Even so,” he cried, +“I knew you would speak of her. Long, long I had forgotten her. Since +our encampment here, she daily, hourly visits my thoughts. When I am +addressed, her name is the sound I expect: in every communication, I +imagine that she will form a part. At length you have broken the spell; +tell me what you know of her.” + +I related my meeting with her; the story of her death was told and +re-told. With painful earnestness he questioned me concerning her +prophecies with regard to him. I treated them as the ravings of a +maniac. “No, no,” he said, “do not deceive yourself,—me you cannot. She +has said nothing but what I knew before—though this is confirmation. +Fire, the sword, and plague! They may all be found in yonder city; on +my head alone may they fall!” + +From this day Raymond’s melancholy increased. He secluded himself as +much as the duties of his station permitted. When in company, sadness +would in spite of every effort steal over his features, and he sat +absent and mute among the busy crowd that thronged about him. Perdita +rejoined him, and before her he forced himself to appear cheerful, for +she, even as a mirror, changed as he changed, and if he were silent and +anxious, she solicitously inquired concerning, and endeavoured to +remove the cause of his seriousness. She resided at the palace of Sweet +Waters, a summer seraglio of the Sultan; the beauty of the surrounding +scenery, undefiled by war, and the freshness of the river, made this +spot doubly delightful. Raymond felt no relief, received no pleasure +from any show of heaven or earth. He often left Perdita, to wander in +the grounds alone; or in a light shallop he floated idly on the pure +waters, musing deeply. Sometimes I joined him; at such times his +countenance was invariably solemn, his air dejected. He seemed relieved +on seeing me, and would talk with some degree of interest on the +affairs of the day. There was evidently something behind all this; yet, +when he appeared about to speak of that which was nearest his heart, he +would abruptly turn away, and with a sigh endeavour to deliver the +painful idea to the winds. + +It had often occurred, that, when, as I said, Raymond quitted Perdita’s +drawing-room, Clara came up to me, and gently drawing me aside, said, +“Papa is gone; shall we go to him? I dare say he will be glad to see +you.” And, as accident permitted, I complied with or refused her +request. One evening a numerous assembly of Greek chieftains were +gathered together in the palace. The intriguing Palli, the accomplished +Karazza, the warlike Ypsilanti, were among the principal. They talked +of the events of the day; the skirmish at noon; the diminished numbers +of the Infidels; their defeat and flight: they contemplated, after a +short interval of time, the capture of the Golden City. They +endeavoured to picture forth what would then happen, and spoke in lofty +terms of the prosperity of Greece, when Constantinople should become +its capital. The conversation then reverted to Asiatic intelligence, +and the ravages the plague made in its chief cities; conjectures were +hazarded as to the progress that disease might have made in the +besieged city. + +Raymond had joined in the former part of the discussion. In lively +terms he demonstrated the extremities to which Constantinople was +reduced; the wasted and haggard, though ferocious appearance of the +troops; famine and pestilence was at work for them, he observed, and +the infidels would soon be obliged to take refuge in their only +hope—submission. Suddenly in the midst of his harangue he broke off, as +if stung by some painful thought; he rose uneasily, and I perceived him +at length quit the hall, and through the long corridor seek the open +air. He did not return; and soon Clara crept round to me, making the +accustomed invitation. I consented to her request, and taking her +little hand, followed Raymond. We found him just about to embark in his +boat, and he readily agreed to receive us as companions. After the +heats of the day, the cooling land-breeze ruffled the river, and filled +our little sail. The city looked dark to the south, while numerous +lights along the near shores, and the beautiful aspect of the banks +reposing in placid night, the waters keenly reflecting the heavenly +lights, gave to this beauteous river a dower of loveliness that might +have characterized a retreat in Paradise. Our single boatman attended +to the sail; Raymond steered; Clara sat at his feet, clasping his knees +with her arms, and laying her head on them. Raymond began the +conversation somewhat abruptly. + +“This, my friend, is probably the last time we shall have an +opportunity of conversing freely; my plans are now in full operation, +and my time will become more and more occupied. Besides, I wish at once +to tell you my wishes and expectations, and then never again to revert +to so painful a subject. First, I must thank you, Lionel, for having +remained here at my request. Vanity first prompted me to ask you: +vanity, I call it; yet even in this I see the hand of fate—your +presence will soon be necessary; you will become the last resource of +Perdita, her protector and consoler. You will take her back to +Windsor.”— + +“Not without you,” I said. “You do not mean to separate again?” + +“Do not deceive yourself,” replied Raymond, “the separation at hand is +one over which I have no control; most near at hand is it; the days are +already counted. May I trust you? For many days I have longed to +disclose the mysterious presentiments that weigh on me, although I fear +that you will ridicule them. Yet do not, my gentle friend; for, all +childish and unwise as they are, they have become a part of me, and I +dare not expect to shake them off. + +“Yet how can I expect you to sympathize with me? You are of this world; +I am not. You hold forth your hand; it is even as a part of yourself; +and you do not yet divide the feeling of identity from the mortal form +that shapes forth Lionel. How then can you understand me? Earth is to +me a tomb, the firmament a vault, shrouding mere corruption. Time is no +more, for I have stepped within the threshold of eternity; each man I +meet appears a corse, which will soon be deserted of its animating +spark, on the eve of decay and corruption. + +Cada piedra un piramide levanta, +y cada flor costruye un monumento, +cada edificio es un sepulcro altivo, +cada soldado un esqueleto vivo.”[3] + + +His accent was mournful,—he sighed deeply. “A few months ago,” he +continued, “I was thought to be dying; but life was strong within me. +My affections were human; hope and love were the day-stars of my life. +Now— they dream that the brows of the conqueror of the infidel faith +are about to be encircled by triumphant laurel; they talk of honourable +reward, of title, power, and wealth—all I ask of Greece is a grave. Let +them raise a mound above my lifeless body, which may stand even when +the dome of St. Sophia has fallen. + +“Wherefore do I feel thus? At Rodosto I was full of hope; but when +first I saw Constantinople, that feeling, with every other joyful one, +departed. The last words of Evadne were the seal upon the warrant of my +death. Yet I do not pretend to account for my mood by any particular +event. All I can say is, that it is so. The plague I am told is in +Constantinople, perhaps I have imbibed its effluvia—perhaps disease is +the real cause of my prognostications. It matters little why or +wherefore I am affected, no power can avert the stroke, and the shadow +of Fate’s uplifted hand already darkens me. + +“To you, Lionel, I entrust your sister and her child. Never mention to +her the fatal name of Evadne. She would doubly sorrow over the strange +link that enchains me to her, making my spirit obey her dying voice, +following her, as it is about to do, to the unknown country.” + +I listened to him with wonder; but that his sad demeanour and solemn +utterance assured me of the truth and intensity of his feelings, I +should with light derision have attempted to dissipate his fears. +Whatever I was about to reply, was interrupted by the powerful emotions +of Clara. Raymond had spoken, thoughtless of her presence, and she, +poor child, heard with terror and faith the prophecy of his death. Her +father was moved by her violent grief; he took her in his arms and +soothed her, but his very soothings were solemn and fearful. “Weep not, +sweet child,” said he, “the coming death of one you have hardly known. +I may die, but in death I can never forget or desert my own Clara. In +after sorrow or joy, believe that you father’s spirit is near, to save +or sympathize with you. Be proud of me, and cherish your infant +remembrance of me. Thus, sweetest, I shall not appear to die. One thing +you must promise,—not to speak to any one but your uncle, of the +conversation you have just overheard. When I am gone, you will console +your mother, and tell her that death was only bitter because it divided +me from her; that my last thoughts will be spent on her. But while I +live, promise not to betray me; promise, my child.” + +With faltering accents Clara promised, while she still clung to her +father in a transport of sorrow. Soon we returned to shore, and I +endeavoured to obviate the impression made on the child’s mind, by +treating Raymond’s fears lightly. We heard no more of them; for, as he +had said, the siege, now drawing to a conclusion, became paramount in +interest, engaging all his time and attention. + +The empire of the Mahometans in Europe was at its close. The Greek +fleet blockading every port of Stamboul, prevented the arrival of +succour from Asia; all egress on the side towards land had become +impracticable, except to such desperate sallies, as reduced the numbers +of the enemy without making any impression on our lines. The garrison +was now so much diminished, that it was evident that the city could +easily have been carried by storm; but both humanity and policy +dictated a slower mode of proceeding. We could hardly doubt that, if +pursued to the utmost, its palaces, its temples and store of wealth +would be destroyed in the fury of contending triumph and defeat. +Already the defenceless citizens had suffered through the barbarity of +the Janisaries; and, in time of storm, tumult and massacre, beauty, +infancy and decrepitude, would have alike been sacrificed to the brutal +ferocity of the soldiers. Famine and blockade were certain means of +conquest; and on these we founded our hopes of victory. + +Each day the soldiers of the garrison assaulted our advanced posts, and +impeded the accomplishment of our works. Fire-boats were launched from +the various ports, while our troops sometimes recoiled from the devoted +courage of men who did not seek to live, but to sell their lives +dearly. These contests were aggravated by the season: they took place +during summer, when the southern Asiatic wind came laden with +intolerable heat, when the streams were dried up in their shallow beds, +and the vast basin of the sea appeared to glow under the unmitigated +rays of the solsticial sun. Nor did night refresh the earth. Dew was +denied; herbage and flowers there were none; the very trees drooped; +and summer assumed the blighted appearance of winter, as it went forth +in silence and flame to abridge the means of sustenance to man. In vain +did the eye strive to find the wreck of some northern cloud in the +stainless empyrean, which might bring hope of change and moisture to +the oppressive and windless atmosphere. All was serene, burning, +annihilating. We the besiegers were in the comparison little affected +by these evils. The woods around afforded us shade,—the river secured +to us a constant supply of water; nay, detachments were employed in +furnishing the army with ice, which had been laid up on Haemus, and +Athos, and the mountains of Macedonia, while cooling fruits and +wholesome food renovated the strength of the labourers, and made us +bear with less impatience the weight of the unrefreshing air. But in +the city things wore a different face. The sun’s rays were refracted +from the pavement and buildings—the stoppage of the public +fountains—the bad quality of the food, and scarcity even of that, +produced a state of suffering, which was aggravated by the scourge of +disease; while the garrison arrogated every superfluity to themselves, +adding by waste and riot to the necessary evils of the time. Still they +would not capitulate. + +Suddenly the system of warfare was changed. We experienced no more +assaults; and by night and day we continued our labours unimpeded. +Stranger still, when the troops advanced near the city, the walls were +vacant, and no cannon was pointed against the intruders. When these +circumstances were reported to Raymond, he caused minute observations +to be made as to what was doing within the walls, and when his scouts +returned, reporting only the continued silence and desolation of the +city, he commanded the army to be drawn out before the gates. No one +appeared on the walls; the very portals, though locked and barred, +seemed unguarded; above, the many domes and glittering crescents +pierced heaven; while the old walls, survivors of ages, with +ivy-crowned tower and weed-tangled buttress, stood as rocks in an +uninhabited waste. From within the city neither shout nor cry, nor +aught except the casual howling of a dog, broke the noon-day stillness. +Even our soldiers were awed to silence; the music paused; the clang of +arms was hushed. Each man asked his fellow in whispers, the meaning of +this sudden peace; while Raymond from an height endeavoured, by means +of glasses, to discover and observe the stratagem of the enemy. No form +could be discerned on the terraces of the houses; in the higher parts +of the town no moving shadow bespoke the presence of any living being: +the very trees waved not, and mocked the stability of architecture with +like immovability. + +The tramp of horses, distinctly heard in the silence, was at length +discerned. It was a troop sent by Karazza, the Admiral; they bore +dispatches to the Lord General. The contents of these papers were +important. The night before, the watch, on board one of the smaller +vessels anchored near the seraglio wall, was roused by a slight +splashing as of muffled oars; the alarm was given: twelve small boats, +each containing three Janizaries, were descried endeavouring to make +their way through the fleet to the opposite shore of Scutari. When they +found themselves discovered they discharged their muskets, and some +came to the front to cover the others, whose crews, exerting all their +strength, endeavoured to escape with their light barks from among the +dark hulls that environed them. They were in the end all sunk, and, +with the exception of two or three prisoners, the crews drowned. Little +could be got from the survivors; but their cautious answers caused it +to be surmised that several expeditions had preceded this last, and +that several Turks of rank and importance had been conveyed to Asia. +The men disdainfully repelled the idea of having deserted the defence +of their city; and one, the youngest among them, in answer to the taunt +of a sailor, exclaimed, “Take it, Christian dogs! take the palaces, the +gardens, the mosques, the abode of our fathers—take plague with them; +pestilence is the enemy we fly; if she be your friend, hug her to your +bosoms. The curse of Allah is on Stamboul, share ye her fate.” + +Such was the account sent by Karazza to Raymond: but a tale full of +monstrous exaggerations, though founded on this, was spread by the +accompanying troop among our soldiers. A murmur arose, the city was the +prey of pestilence; already had a mighty power subjugated the +inhabitants; Death had become lord of Constantinople. + +I have heard a picture described, wherein all the inhabitants of earth +were drawn out in fear to stand the encounter of Death. The feeble and +decrepid fled; the warriors retreated, though they threatened even in +flight. Wolves and lions, and various monsters of the desert roared +against him; while the grim Unreality hovered shaking his spectral +dart, a solitary but invincible assailant. Even so was it with the army +of Greece. I am convinced, that had the myriad troops of Asia come from +over the Propontis, and stood defenders of the Golden City, each and +every Greek would have marched against the overwhelming numbers, and +have devoted himself with patriotic fury for his country. But here no +hedge of bayonets opposed itself, no death-dealing artillery, no +formidable array of brave soldiers—the unguarded walls afforded easy +entrance—the vacant palaces luxurious dwellings; but above the dome of +St. Sophia the superstitious Greek saw Pestilence, and shrunk in +trepidation from her influence. + +Raymond was actuated by far other feelings. He descended the hill with +a face beaming with triumph, and pointing with his sword to the gates, +commanded his troops to—down with those barricades—the only obstacles +now to completest victory. The soldiers answered his cheerful words +with aghast and awe-struck looks; instinctively they drew back, and +Raymond rode in the front of the lines:—“By my sword I swear,” he +cried, “that no ambush or stratagem endangers you. The enemy is already +vanquished; the pleasant places, the noble dwellings and spoil of the +city are already yours; force the gate; enter and possess the seats of +your ancestors, your own inheritance!” + +An universal shudder and fearful whispering passed through the lines; +not a soldier moved. “Cowards!” exclaimed their general, exasperated, +“give me an hatchet! I alone will enter! I will plant your standard; +and when you see it wave from yon highest minaret, you may gain +courage, and rally round it!” + +One of the officers now came forward: “General,” he said, “we neither +fear the courage, nor arms, the open attack, nor secret ambush of the +Moslems. We are ready to expose our breasts, exposed ten thousand times +before, to the balls and scymetars of the infidels, and to fall +gloriously for Greece. But we will not die in heaps, like dogs poisoned +in summer-time, by the pestilential air of that city—we dare not go +against the plague!” + +A multitude of men are feeble and inert, without a voice, a leader; +give them that, and they regain the strength belonging to their +numbers. Shouts from a thousand voices now rent the air—the cry of +applause became universal. Raymond saw the danger; he was willing to +save his troops from the crime of disobedience; for he knew, that +contention once begun between the commander and his army, each act and +word added to the weakness of the former, and bestowed power on the +latter. He gave orders for the retreat to be sounded, and the regiments +repaired in good order to the camp. + +I hastened to carry the intelligence of these strange proceedings to +Perdita; and we were soon joined by Raymond. He looked gloomy and +perturbed. My sister was struck by my narrative: “How beyond the +imagination of man,” she exclaimed, “are the decrees of heaven, +wondrous and inexplicable!” + +“Foolish girl,” cried Raymond angrily, “are you like my valiant +soldiers, panic-struck? What is there inexplicable, pray, tell me, in +so very natural an occurrence? Does not the plague rage each year in +Stamboul? What wonder, that this year, when as we are told, its +virulence is unexampled in Asia, that it should have occasioned double +havoc in that city? What wonder then, in time of siege, want, extreme +heat, and drought, that it should make unaccustomed ravages? Less +wonder far is it, that the garrison, despairing of being able to hold +out longer, should take advantage of the negligence of our fleet to +escape at once from siege and capture. It is not pestilence —by the God +that lives! it is not either plague or impending danger that makes us, +like birds in harvest-time, terrified by a scarecrow, abstain from the +ready prey—it is base superstition—And thus the aim of the valiant is +made the shuttlecock of fools; the worthy ambition of the high-souled, +the plaything of these tamed hares! But yet Stamboul shall be ours! By +my past labours, by torture and imprisonment suffered for them, by my +victories, by my sword, I swear—by my hopes of fame, by my former +deserts now awaiting their reward, I deeply vow, with these hands to +plant the cross on yonder mosque!” + +“Dearest Raymond!” interrupted Perdita, in a supplicating accent. + +He had been walking to and fro in the marble hall of the seraglio; his +very lips were pale with rage, while, quivering, they shaped his angry +words— his eyes shot fire—his gestures seemed restrained by their very +vehemence. “Perdita,” he continued, impatiently, “I know what you would +say; I know that you love me, that you are good and gentle; but this is +no woman’s work—nor can a female heart guess at the hurricane which +tears me!” + +He seemed half afraid of his own violence, and suddenly quitted the +hall: a look from Perdita shewed me her distress, and I followed him. +He was pacing the garden: his passions were in a state of inconceivable +turbulence. “Am I for ever,” he cried, “to be the sport of fortune! +Must man, the heaven-climber, be for ever the victim of the crawling +reptiles of his species! Were I as you, Lionel, looking forward to many +years of life, to a succession of love-enlightened days, to refined +enjoyments and fresh-springing hopes, I might yield, and breaking my +General’s staff, seek repose in the glades of Windsor. But I am about +to die!—nay, interrupt me not—soon I shall die. From the many-peopled +earth, from the sympathies of man, from the loved resorts of my youth, +from the kindness of my friends, from the affection of my only beloved +Perdita, I am about to be removed. Such is the will of fate! Such the +decree of the High Ruler from whom there is no appeal: to whom I +submit. But to lose all—to lose with life and love, glory also! It +shall not be! + +“I, and in a few brief years, all you,—this panic-struck army, and all +the population of fair Greece, will no longer be. But other generations +will arise, and ever and for ever will continue, to be made happier by +our present acts, to be glorified by our valour. The prayer of my youth +was to be one among those who render the pages of earth’s history +splendid; who exalt the race of man, and make this little globe a +dwelling of the mighty. Alas, for Raymond! the prayer of his youth is +wasted—the hopes of his manhood are null! + +“From my dungeon in yonder city I cried, soon I will be thy lord! When +Evadne pronounced my death, I thought that the title of Victor of +Constantinople would be written on my tomb, and I subdued all mortal +fear. I stand before its vanquished walls, and dare not call myself a +conqueror. So shall it not be! Did not Alexander leap from the walls of +the city of the Oxydracae, to shew his coward troops the way to +victory, encountering alone the swords of its defenders? Even so will I +brave the plague—and though no man follow, I will plant the Grecian +standard on the height of St. Sophia.” + +Reason came unavailing to such high-wrought feelings. In vain I shewed +him, that when winter came, the cold would dissipate the pestilential +air, and restore courage to the Greeks. “Talk not of other season than +this!” he cried. “I have lived my last winter, and the date of this +year, 2092, will be carved upon my tomb. Already do I see,” he +continued, looking up mournfully, “the bourne and precipitate edge of +my existence, over which I plunge into the gloomy mystery of the life +to come. I am prepared, so that I leave behind a trail of light so +radiant, that my worst enemies cannot cloud it. I owe this to Greece, +to you, to my surviving Perdita, and to myself, the victim of +ambition.” + +We were interrupted by an attendant, who announced, that the staff of +Raymond was assembled in the council-chamber. He requested me in the +meantime to ride through the camp, and to observe and report to him the +dispositions of the soldiers; he then left me. I had been excited to +the utmost by the proceedings of the day, and now more than ever by the +passionate language of Raymond. Alas! for human reason! He accused the +Greeks of superstition: what name did he give to the faith he lent to +the predictions of Evadne? I passed from the palace of Sweet Waters to +the plain on which the encampment lay, and found its inhabitants in +commotion. The arrival of several with fresh stories of marvels, from +the fleet; the exaggerations bestowed on what was already known; tales +of old prophecies, of fearful histories of whole regions which had been +laid waste during the present year by pestilence, alarmed and occupied +the troops. Discipline was lost; the army disbanded itself. Each +individual, before a part of a great whole moving only in unison with +others, now became resolved into the unit nature had made him, and +thought of himself only. They stole off at first by ones and twos, then +in larger companies, until, unimpeded by the officers, whole battalions +sought the road that led to Macedonia. + +About midnight I returned to the palace and sought Raymond; he was +alone, and apparently composed; such composure, at least, was his as is +inspired by a resolve to adhere to a certain line of conduct. He heard +my account of the self-dissolution of the army with calmness, and then +said, “You know, Verney, my fixed determination not to quit this place, +until in the light of day Stamboul is confessedly ours. If the men I +have about me shrink from following me, others, more courageous, are to +be found. Go you before break of day, bear these dispatches to Karazza, +add to them your own entreaties that he send me his marines and naval +force; if I can get but one regiment to second me, the rest would +follow of course. Let him send me this regiment. I shall expect your +return by to-morrow noon.” + +Methought this was but a poor expedient; but I assured him of my +obedience and zeal. I quitted him to take a few hours rest. With the +breaking of morning I was accoutred for my ride. I lingered awhile, +desirous of taking leave of Perdita, and from my window observed the +approach of the sun. The golden splendour arose, and weary nature awoke +to suffer yet another day of heat and thirsty decay. No flowers lifted +up their dew-laden cups to meet the dawn; the dry grass had withered on +the plains; the burning fields of air were vacant of birds; the cicale +alone, children of the sun, began their shrill and deafening song among +the cypresses and olives. I saw Raymond’s coal-black charger brought to +the palace gate; a small company of officers arrived soon after; care +and fear was painted on each cheek, and in each eye, unrefreshed by +sleep. I found Raymond and Perdita together. He was watching the rising +sun, while with one arm he encircled his beloved’s waist; she looked on +him, the sun of her life, with earnest gaze of mingled anxiety and +tenderness. Raymond started angrily when he saw me. “Here still?” he +cried. “Is this your promised zeal?” + +“Pardon me,” I said, “but even as you speak, I am gone.” + +“Nay, pardon me,” he replied; “I have no right to command or reproach; +but my life hangs on your departure and speedy return. Farewell!” + +His voice had recovered its bland tone, but a dark cloud still hung on +his features. I would have delayed; I wished to recommend watchfulness +to Perdita, but his presence restrained me. I had no pretence for my +hesitation; and on his repeating his farewell, I clasped his +outstretched hand; it was cold and clammy. “Take care of yourself, my +dear Lord,” I said. + +“Nay,” said Perdita, “that task shall be mine. Return speedily, +Lionel.” With an air of absence he was playing with her auburn locks, +while she leaned on him; twice I turned back, only to look again on +this matchless pair. At last, with slow and heavy steps, I had paced +out of the hall, and sprung upon my horse. At that moment Clara flew +towards me; clasping my knee she cried, “Make haste back, uncle! Dear +uncle, I have such fearful dreams; I dare not tell my mother. Do not be +long away!” I assured her of my impatience to return, and then, with a +small escort rode along the plain towards the tower of Marmora. + +I fulfilled my commission; I saw Karazza. He was somewhat surprised; he +would see, he said, what could be done; but it required time; and +Raymond had ordered me to return by noon. It was impossible to effect +any thing in so short a time. I must stay till the next day; or come +back, after having reported the present state of things to the general. +My choice was easily made. A restlessness, a fear of what was about to +betide, a doubt as to Raymond’s purposes, urged me to return without +delay to his quarters. Quitting the Seven Towers, I rode eastward +towards the Sweet Waters. I took a circuitous path, principally for the +sake of going to the top of the mount before mentioned, which commanded +a view of the city. I had my glass with me. The city basked under the +noon-day sun, and the venerable walls formed its picturesque boundary. +Immediately before me was the Top Kapou, the gate near which Mahomet +had made the breach by which he entered the city. Trees gigantic and +aged grew near; before the gate I discerned a crowd of moving human +figures—with intense curiosity I lifted my glass to my eye. I saw Lord +Raymond on his charger; a small company of officers had gathered about +him; and behind was a promiscuous concourse of soldiers and subalterns, +their discipline lost, their arms thrown aside; no music sounded, no +banners streamed. The only flag among them was one which Raymond +carried; he pointed with it to the gate of the city. The circle round +him fell back. With angry gestures he leapt from his horse, and seizing +a hatchet that hung from his saddle-bow, went with the apparent +intention of battering down the opposing gate. A few men came to aid +him; their numbers increased; under their united blows the obstacle was +vanquished, gate, portcullis, and fence were demolished; and the wide +sun-lit way, leading to the heart of the city, now lay open before +them. The men shrank back; they seemed afraid of what they had already +done, and stood as if they expected some Mighty Phantom to stalk in +offended majesty from the opening. Raymond sprung lightly on his horse, +grasped the standard, and with words which I could not hear (but his +gestures, being their fit accompaniment, were marked by passionate +energy,) he seemed to adjure their assistance and companionship; even +as he spoke, the crowd receded from him. Indignation now transported +him; his words I guessed were fraught with disdain—then turning from +his coward followers, he addressed himself to enter the city alone. His +very horse seemed to back from the fatal entrance; his dog, his +faithful dog, lay moaning and supplicating in his path—in a moment +more, he had plunged the rowels into the sides of the stung animal, who +bounded forward, and he, the gateway passed, was galloping up the broad +and desart street. + +Until this moment my soul had been in my eyes only. I had gazed with +wonder, mixed with fear and enthusiasm. The latter feeling now +predominated. I forgot the distance between us: “I will go with thee, +Raymond!” I cried; but, my eye removed from the glass, I could scarce +discern the pigmy forms of the crowd, which about a mile from me +surrounded the gate; the form of Raymond was lost. Stung with +impatience, I urged my horse with force of spur and loosened reins down +the acclivity, that, before danger could arrive, I might be at the side +of my noble, godlike friend. A number of buildings and trees +intervened, when I had reached the plain, hiding the city from my view. +But at that moment a crash was heard. Thunderlike it reverberated +through the sky, while the air was darkened. A moment more and the old +walls again met my sight, while over them hovered a murky cloud; +fragments of buildings whirled above, half seen in smoke, while flames +burst out beneath, and continued explosions filled the air with +terrific thunders. Flying from the mass of falling ruin which leapt +over the high walls, and shook the ivy towers, a crowd of soldiers made +for the road by which I came; I was surrounded, hemmed in by them, +unable to get forward. My impatience rose to its utmost; I stretched +out my hands to the men; I conjured them to turn back and save their +General, the conqueror of Stamboul, the liberator of Greece; tears, aye +tears, in warm flow gushed from my eyes—I would not believe in his +destruction; yet every mass that darkened the air seemed to bear with +it a portion of the martyred Raymond. Horrible sights were shaped to me +in the turbid cloud that hovered over the city; and my only relief was +derived from the struggles I made to approach the gate. Yet when I +effected my purpose, all I could discern within the precincts of the +massive walls was a city of fire: the open way through which Raymond +had ridden was enveloped in smoke and flame. After an interval the +explosions ceased, but the flames still shot up from various quarters; +the dome of St. Sophia had disappeared. Strange to say (the result +perhaps of the concussion of air occasioned by the blowing up of the +city) huge, white thunder clouds lifted themselves up from the southern +horizon, and gathered over-head; they were the first blots on the blue +expanse that I had seen for months, and amidst this havoc and despair +they inspired pleasure. The vault above became obscured, lightning +flashed from the heavy masses, followed instantaneously by crashing +thunder; then the big rain fell. The flames of the city bent beneath +it; and the smoke and dust arising from the ruins was dissipated. + +I no sooner perceived an abatement of the flames than, hurried on by an +irresistible impulse, I endeavoured to penetrate the town. I could only +do this on foot, as the mass of ruin was impracticable for a horse. I +had never entered the city before, and its ways were unknown to me. The +streets were blocked up, the ruins smoking; I climbed up one heap, only +to view others in succession; and nothing told me where the centre of +the town might be, or towards what point Raymond might have directed +his course. The rain ceased; the clouds sunk behind the horizon; it was +now evening, and the sun descended swiftly the western sky. I scrambled +on, until I came to a street, whose wooden houses, half-burnt, had been +cooled by the rain, and were fortunately uninjured by the gunpowder. Up +this I hurried—until now I had not seen a vestige of man. Yet none of +the defaced human forms which I distinguished, could be Raymond; so I +turned my eyes away, while my heart sickened within me. I came to an +open space—a mountain of ruin in the midst, announced that some large +mosque had occupied the space—and here, scattered about, I saw various +articles of luxury and wealth, singed, destroyed—but shewing what they +had been in their ruin—jewels, strings of pearls, embroidered robes, +rich furs, glittering tapestries, and oriental ornaments, seemed to +have been collected here in a pile destined for destruction; but the +rain had stopped the havoc midway. + +Hours passed, while in this scene of ruin I sought for Raymond. +Insurmountable heaps sometimes opposed themselves; the still burning +fires scorched me. The sun set; the atmosphere grew dim—and the evening +star no longer shone companionless. The glare of flames attested the +progress of destruction, while, during mingled light and obscurity, the +piles around me took gigantic proportions and weird shapes. For a +moment I could yield to the creative power of the imagination, and for +a moment was soothed by the sublime fictions it presented to me. The +beatings of my human heart drew me back to blank reality. Where, in +this wilderness of death, art thou, O Raymond—ornament of England, +deliverer of Greece, “hero of unwritten story,” where in this burning +chaos are thy dear relics strewed? I called aloud for him—through the +darkness of night, over the scorching ruins of fallen Constantinople, +his name was heard; no voice replied—echo even was mute. + +I was overcome by weariness; the solitude depressed my spirits. The +sultry air impregnated with dust, the heat and smoke of burning +palaces, palsied my limbs. Hunger suddenly came acutely upon me. The +excitement which had hitherto sustained me was lost; as a building, +whose props are loosened, and whose foundations rock, totters and +falls, so when enthusiasm and hope deserted me, did my strength fail. I +sat on the sole remaining step of an edifice, which even in its +downfall, was huge and magnificent; a few broken walls, not dislodged +by gunpowder, stood in fantastic groupes, and a flame glimmered at +intervals on the summit of the pile. For a time hunger and sleep +contended, till the constellations reeled before my eyes and then were +lost. I strove to rise, but my heavy lids closed, my limbs +over-wearied, claimed repose—I rested my head on the stone, I yielded +to the grateful sensation of utter forgetfulness; and in that scene of +desolation, on that night of despair—I slept. + + [3] Calderon de la Barca. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +The stars still shone brightly when I awoke, and Taurus high in the +southern heaven shewed that it was midnight. I awoke from disturbed +dreams. Methought I had been invited to Timon’s last feast; I came with +keen appetite, the covers were removed, the hot water sent up its +unsatisfying steams, while I fled before the anger of the host, who +assumed the form of Raymond; while to my diseased fancy, the vessels +hurled by him after me, were surcharged with fetid vapour, and my +friend’s shape, altered by a thousand distortions, expanded into a +gigantic phantom, bearing on its brow the sign of pestilence. The +growing shadow rose and rose, filling, and then seeming to endeavour to +burst beyond, the adamantine vault that bent over, sustaining and +enclosing the world. The night-mare became torture; with a strong +effort I threw off sleep, and recalled reason to her wonted functions. +My first thought was Perdita; to her I must return; her I must support, +drawing such food from despair as might best sustain her wounded heart; +recalling her from the wild excesses of grief, by the austere laws of +duty, and the soft tenderness of regret. + +The position of the stars was my only guide. I turned from the awful +ruin of the Golden City, and, after great exertion, succeeded in +extricating myself from its enclosure. I met a company of soldiers +outside the walls; I borrowed a horse from one of them, and hastened to +my sister. The appearance of the plain was changed during this short +interval; the encampment was broken up; the relics of the disbanded +army met in small companies here and there; each face was clouded; +every gesture spoke astonishment and dismay. + +With an heavy heart I entered the palace, and stood fearful to advance, +to speak, to look. In the midst of the hall was Perdita; she sat on the +marble pavement, her head fallen on her bosom, her hair dishevelled, +her fingers twined busily one within the other; she was pale as marble, +and every feature was contracted by agony. She perceived me, and looked +up enquiringly; her half glance of hope was misery; the words died +before I could articulate them; I felt a ghastly smile wrinkle my lips. +She understood my gesture; again her head fell; again her fingers +worked restlessly. At last I recovered speech, but my voice terrified +her; the hapless girl had understood my look, and for worlds she would +not that the tale of her heavy misery should have been shaped out and +confirmed by hard, irrevocable words. Nay, she seemed to wish to +distract my thoughts from the subject: she rose from the floor: “Hush!” +she said, whisperingly; “after much weeping, Clara sleeps; we must not +disturb her.” She seated herself then on the same ottoman where I had +left her in the morning resting on the beating heart of her Raymond; I +dared not approach her, but sat at a distant corner, watching her +starting and nervous gestures. At length, in an abrupt manner she +asked, “Where is he?” + +“O, fear not,” she continued, “fear not that I should entertain hope! +Yet tell me, have you found him? To have him once more in my arms, to +see him, however changed, is all I desire. Though Constantinople be +heaped above him as a tomb, yet I must find him—then cover us with the +city’s weight, with a mountain piled above—I care not, so that one +grave hold Raymond and his Perdita.” Then weeping, she clung to me: +“Take me to him,” she cried, “unkind Lionel, why do you keep me here? +Of myself I cannot find him —but you know where he lies—lead me +thither.” + +At first these agonizing plaints filled me with intolerable compassion. +But soon I endeavoured to extract patience for her from the ideas she +suggested. I related my adventures of the night, my endeavours to find +our lost one, and my disappointment. Turning her thoughts this way, I +gave them an object which rescued them from insanity. With apparent +calmness she discussed with me the probable spot where he might be +found, and planned the means we should use for that purpose. Then +hearing of my fatigue and abstinence, she herself brought me food. I +seized the favourable moment, and endeavoured to awaken in her +something beyond the killing torpor of grief. As I spoke, my subject +carried me away; deep admiration; grief, the offspring of truest +affection, the overflowing of a heart bursting with sympathy for all +that had been great and sublime in the career of my friend, inspired me +as I poured forth the praises of Raymond. + +“Alas, for us,” I cried, “who have lost this latest honour of the +world! Beloved Raymond! He is gone to the nations of the dead; he has +become one of those, who render the dark abode of the obscure grave +illustrious by dwelling there. He has journied on the road that leads +to it, and joined the mighty of soul who went before him. When the +world was in its infancy death must have been terrible, and man left +his friends and kindred to dwell, a solitary stranger, in an unknown +country. But now, he who dies finds many companions gone before to +prepare for his reception. The great of past ages people it, the +exalted hero of our own days is counted among its inhabitants, while +life becomes doubly ‘the desart and the solitude.’ + +“What a noble creature was Raymond, the first among the men of our +time. By the grandeur of his conceptions, the graceful daring of his +actions, by his wit and beauty, he won and ruled the minds of all. Of +one only fault he might have been accused; but his death has cancelled +that. I have heard him called inconstant of purpose—when he deserted, +for the sake of love, the hope of sovereignty, and when he abdicated +the protectorship of England, men blamed his infirmity of purpose. Now +his death has crowned his life, and to the end of time it will be +remembered, that he devoted himself, a willing victim, to the glory of +Greece. Such was his choice: he expected to die. He foresaw that he +should leave this cheerful earth, the lightsome sky, and thy love, +Perdita; yet he neither hesitated or turned back, going right onward to +his mark of fame. While the earth lasts, his actions will be recorded +with praise. Grecian maidens will in devotion strew flowers on his +tomb, and make the air around it resonant with patriotic hymns, in +which his name will find high record.” + +I saw the features of Perdita soften; the sternness of grief yielded to +tenderness—I continued:—“Thus to honour him, is the sacred duty of his +survivors. To make his name even as an holy spot of ground, enclosing +it from all hostile attacks by our praise, shedding on it the blossoms +of love and regret, guarding it from decay, and bequeathing it +untainted to posterity. Such is the duty of his friends. A dearer one +belongs to you, Perdita, mother of his child. Do you remember in her +infancy, with what transport you beheld Clara, recognizing in her the +united being of yourself and Raymond; joying to view in this living +temple a manifestation of your eternal loves. Even such is she still. +You say that you have lost Raymond. O, no!—yet he lives with you and in +you there. From him she sprung, flesh of his flesh, bone of his +bone—and not, as heretofore, are you content to trace in her downy +cheek and delicate limbs, an affinity to Raymond, but in her +enthusiastic affections, in the sweet qualities of her mind, you may +still find him living, the good, the great, the beloved. Be it your +care to foster this similarity—be it your care to render her worthy of +him, so that, when she glory in her origin, she take not shame for what +she is.” + +I could perceive that, when I recalled my sister’s thoughts to her +duties in life, she did not listen with the same patience as before. +She appeared to suspect a plan of consolation on my part, from which +she, cherishing her new-born grief, revolted. “You talk of the future,” +she said, “while the present is all to me. Let me find the earthly +dwelling of my beloved; let us rescue that from common dust, so that in +times to come men may point to the sacred tomb, and name it his—then to +other thoughts, and a new course of life, or what else fate, in her +cruel tyranny, may have marked out for me.” + +After a short repose I prepared to leave her, that I might endeavour to +accomplish her wish. In the mean time we were joined by Clara, whose +pallid cheek and scared look shewed the deep impression grief had made +on her young mind. She seemed to be full of something to which she +could not give words; but, seizing an opportunity afforded by Perdita’s +absence, she preferred to me an earnest prayer, that I would take her +within view of the gate at which her father had entered Constantinople. +She promised to commit no extravagance, to be docile, and immediately +to return. I could not refuse; for Clara was not an ordinary child; her +sensibility and intelligence seemed already to have endowed her with +the rights of womanhood. With her therefore, before me on my horse, +attended only by the servant who was to re-conduct her, we rode to the +Top Kapou. We found a party of soldiers gathered round it. They were +listening. “They are human cries,” said one: “More like the howling of +a dog,” replied another; and again they bent to catch the sound of +regular distant moans, which issued from the precincts of the ruined +city. “That, Clara,” I said, “is the gate, that the street which +yestermorn your father rode up.” Whatever Clara’s intention had been in +asking to be brought hither, it was balked by the presence of the +soldiers. With earnest gaze she looked on the labyrinth of smoking +piles which had been a city, and then expressed her readiness to return +home. At this moment a melancholy howl struck on our ears; it was +repeated; “Hark!” cried Clara, “he is there; that is Florio, my +father’s dog.” It seemed to me impossible that she could recognise the +sound, but she persisted in her assertion till she gained credit with +the crowd about. At least it would be a benevolent action to rescue the +sufferer, whether human or brute, from the desolation of the town; so, +sending Clara back to her home, I again entered Constantinople. +Encouraged by the impunity attendant on my former visit, several +soldiers who had made a part of Raymond’s body guard, who had loved +him, and sincerely mourned his loss, accompanied me. + +It is impossible to conjecture the strange enchainment of events which +restored the lifeless form of my friend to our hands. In that part of +the town where the fire had most raged the night before, and which now +lay quenched, black and cold, the dying dog of Raymond crouched beside +the mutilated form of its lord. At such a time sorrow has no voice; +affliction, tamed by its very vehemence, is mute. The poor animal +recognised me, licked my hand, crept close to its lord, and died. He +had been evidently thrown from his horse by some falling ruin, which +had crushed his head, and defaced his whole person. I bent over the +body, and took in my hand the edge of his cloak, less altered in +appearance than the human frame it clothed. I pressed it to my lips, +while the rough soldiers gathered around, mourning over this worthiest +prey of death, as if regret and endless lamentation could re-illumine +the extinguished spark, or call to its shattered prison-house of flesh +the liberated spirit. Yesterday those limbs were worth an universe; +they then enshrined a transcendant power, whose intents, words, and +actions were worthy to be recorded in letters of gold; now the +superstition of affection alone could give value to the shattered +mechanism, which, incapable and clod-like, no more resembled Raymond, +than the fallen rain is like the former mansion of cloud in which it +climbed the highest skies, and gilded by the sun, attracted all eyes, +and satiated the sense by its excess of beauty. + +Such as he had now become, such as was his terrene vesture, defaced and +spoiled, we wrapt it in our cloaks, and lifting the burthen in our +arms, bore it from this city of the dead. The question arose as to +where we should deposit him. In our road to the palace, we passed +through the Greek cemetery; here on a tablet of black marble I caused +him to be laid; the cypresses waved high above, their death-like gloom +accorded with his state of nothingness. We cut branches of the funereal +trees and placed them over him, and on these again his sword. I left a +guard to protect this treasure of dust; and ordered perpetual torches +to be burned around. + +When I returned to Perdita, I found that she had already been informed +of the success of my undertaking. He, her beloved, the sole and eternal +object of her passionate tenderness, was restored her. Such was the +maniac language of her enthusiasm. What though those limbs moved not, +and those lips could no more frame modulated accents of wisdom and +love! What though like a weed flung from the fruitless sea, he lay the +prey of corruption— still that was the form she had caressed, those the +lips that meeting hers, had drank the spirit of love from the +commingling breath; that was the earthly mechanism of dissoluble clay +she had called her own. True, she looked forward to another life; true, +the burning spirit of love seemed to her unextinguishable throughout +eternity. Yet at this time, with human fondness, she clung to all that +her human senses permitted her to see and feel to be a part of Raymond. + +Pale as marble, clear and beaming as that, she heard my tale, and +enquired concerning the spot where he had been deposited. Her features +had lost the distortion of grief; her eyes were brightened, her very +person seemed dilated; while the excessive whiteness and even +transparency of her skin, and something hollow in her voice, bore +witness that not tranquillity, but excess of excitement, occasioned the +treacherous calm that settled on her countenance. I asked her where he +should be buried. She replied, “At Athens; even at the Athens which he +loved. Without the town, on the acclivity of Hymettus, there is a rocky +recess which he pointed out to me as the spot where he would wish to +repose.” + +My own desire certainly was that he should not be removed from the spot +where he now lay. But her wish was of course to be complied with; and I +entreated her to prepare without delay for our departure. + +Behold now the melancholy train cross the flats of Thrace, and wind +through the defiles, and over the mountains of Macedonia, coast the +clear waves of the Peneus, cross the Larissean plain, pass the straits +of Thermopylae, and ascending in succession Œrta and Parnassus, descend +to the fertile plain of Athens. Women bear with resignation these long +drawn ills, but to a man’s impatient spirit, the slow motion of our +cavalcade, the melancholy repose we took at noon, the perpetual +presence of the pall, gorgeous though it was, that wrapt the rifled +casket which had contained Raymond, the monotonous recurrence of day +and night, unvaried by hope or change, all the circumstances of our +march were intolerable. Perdita, shut up in herself, spoke little. Her +carriage was closed; and, when we rested, she sat leaning her pale +cheek on her white cold hand, with eyes fixed on the ground, indulging +thoughts which refused communication or sympathy. + +We descended from Parnassus, emerging from its many folds, and passed +through Livadia on our road to Attica. Perdita would not enter Athens; +but reposing at Marathon on the night of our arrival, conducted me on +the following day, to the spot selected by her as the treasure house of +Raymond’s dear remains. It was in a recess near the head of the ravine +to the south of Hymettus. The chasm, deep, black, and hoary, swept from +the summit to the base; in the fissures of the rock myrtle underwood +grew and wild thyme, the food of many nations of bees; enormous crags +protruded into the cleft, some beetling over, others rising +perpendicularly from it. At the foot of this sublime chasm, a fertile +laughing valley reached from sea to sea, and beyond was spread the blue +Aegean, sprinkled with islands, the light waves glancing beneath the +sun. Close to the spot on which we stood, was a solitary rock, high and +conical, which, divided on every side from the mountain, seemed a +nature-hewn pyramid; with little labour this block was reduced to a +perfect shape; the narrow cell was scooped out beneath in which Raymond +was placed, and a short inscription, carved in the living stone, +recorded the name of its tenant, the cause and aera of his death. + +Every thing was accomplished with speed under my directions. I agreed +to leave the finishing and guardianship of the tomb to the head of the +religious establishment at Athens, and by the end of October prepared +for my return to England. I mentioned this to Perdita. It was painful +to appear to drag her from the last scene that spoke of her lost one; +but to linger here was vain, and my very soul was sick with its +yearning to rejoin my Idris and her babes. In reply, my sister +requested me to accompany her the following evening to the tomb of +Raymond. Some days had passed since I had visited the spot. The path to +it had been enlarged, and steps hewn in the rock led us less +circuitously than before, to the spot itself; the platform on which the +pyramid stood was enlarged, and looking towards the south, in a recess +overshadowed by the straggling branches of a wild fig-tree, I saw +foundations dug, and props and rafters fixed, evidently the +commencement of a cottage; standing on its unfinished threshold, the +tomb was at our right-hand, the whole ravine, and plain, and azure sea +immediately before us; the dark rocks received a glow from the +descending sun, which glanced along the cultivated valley, and dyed in +purple and orange the placid waves; we sat on a rocky elevation, and I +gazed with rapture on the beauteous panorama of living and changeful +colours, which varied and enhanced the graces of earth and ocean. + +“Did I not do right,” said Perdita, “in having my loved one conveyed +hither? Hereafter this will be the cynosure of Greece. In such a spot +death loses half its terrors, and even the inanimate dust appears to +partake of the spirit of beauty which hallows this region. Lionel, he +sleeps there; that is the grave of Raymond, he whom in my youth I first +loved; whom my heart accompanied in days of separation and anger; to +whom I am now joined for ever. Never—mark me—never will I leave this +spot. Methinks his spirit remains here as well as that dust, which, +uncommunicable though it be, is more precious in its nothingness than +aught else widowed earth clasps to her sorrowing bosom. The myrtle +bushes, the thyme, the little cyclamen, which peep from the fissures of +the rock, all the produce of the place, bear affinity to him; the light +that invests the hills participates in his essence, and sky and +mountains, sea and valley, are imbued by the presence of his spirit. I +will live and die here! + +“Go you to England, Lionel; return to sweet Idris and dearest Adrian; +return, and let my orphan girl be as a child of your own in your house. +Look on me as dead; and truly if death be a mere change of state, I am +dead. This is another world, from that which late I inhabited, from +that which is now your home. Here I hold communion only with the has +been, and to come. Go you to England, and leave me where alone I can +consent to drag out the miserable days which I must still live.” + +A shower of tears terminated her sad harangue. I had expected some +extravagant proposition, and remained silent awhile, collecting my +thoughts that I might the better combat her fanciful scheme. “You +cherish dreary thoughts, my dear Perdita,” I said, “nor do I wonder +that for a time your better reason should be influenced by passionate +grief and a disturbed imagination. Even I am in love with this last +home of Raymond’s; nevertheless we must quit it.” + +“I expected this,” cried Perdita; “I supposed that you would treat me +as a mad, foolish girl. But do not deceive yourself; this cottage is +built by my order; and here I shall remain, until the hour arrives when +I may share his happier dwelling.” + +“My dearest girl!” + +“And what is there so strange in my design? I might have deceived you; +I might have talked of remaining here only a few months; in your +anxiety to reach Windsor you would have left me, and without reproach +or contention, I might have pursued my plan. But I disdained the +artifice; or rather in my wretchedness it was my only consolation to +pour out my heart to you, my brother, my only friend. You will not +dispute with me? You know how wilful your poor, misery-stricken sister +is. Take my girl with you; wean her from sights and thoughts of sorrow; +let infantine hilarity revisit her heart, and animate her eyes; so +could it never be, were she near me; it is far better for all of you +that you should never see me again. For myself, I will not voluntarily +seek death, that is, I will not, while I can command myself; and I can +here. But drag me from this country; and my power of self control +vanishes, nor can I answer for the violence my agony of grief may lead +me to commit.” + +“You clothe your meaning, Perdita,” I replied, “in powerful words, yet +that meaning is selfish and unworthy of you. You have often agreed with +me that there is but one solution to the intricate riddle of life; to +improve ourselves, and contribute to the happiness of others: and now, +in the very prime of life, you desert your principles, and shut +yourself up in useless solitude. Will you think of Raymond less at +Windsor, the scene of your early happiness? Will you commune less with +his departed spirit, while you watch over and cultivate the rare +excellence of his child? You have been sadly visited; nor do I wonder +that a feeling akin to insanity should drive you to bitter and +unreasonable imaginings. But a home of love awaits you in your native +England. My tenderness and affection must soothe you; the society of +Raymond’s friends will be of more solace than these dreary +speculations. We will all make it our first care, our dearest task, to +contribute to your happiness.” + +Perdita shook her head; “If it could be so,” she replied, “I were much +in the wrong to disdain your offers. But it is not a matter of choice; +I can live here only. I am a part of this scene; each and all its +properties are a part of me. This is no sudden fancy; I live by it. The +knowledge that I am here, rises with me in the morning, and enables me +to endure the light; it is mingled with my food, which else were +poison; it walks, it sleeps with me, for ever it accompanies me. Here I +may even cease to repine, and may add my tardy consent to the decree +which has taken him from me. He would rather have died such a death, +which will be recorded in history to endless time, than have lived to +old age unknown, unhonoured. Nor can I desire better, than, having been +the chosen and beloved of his heart, here, in youth’s prime, before +added years can tarnish the best feelings of my nature, to watch his +tomb, and speedily rejoin him in his blessed repose. + +“So much, my dearest Lionel, I have said, wishing to persuade you that +I do right. If you are unconvinced, I can add nothing further by way of +argument, and I can only declare my fixed resolve. I stay here; force +only can remove me. Be it so; drag me away—I return; confine me, +imprison me, still I escape, and come here. Or would my brother rather +devote the heart-broken Perdita to the straw and chains of a maniac, +than suffer her to rest in peace beneath the shadow of His society, in +this my own selected and beloved recess?”— + +All this appeared to me, I own, methodized madness. I imagined, that it +was my imperative duty to take her from scenes that thus forcibly +reminded her of her loss. Nor did I doubt, that in the tranquillity of +our family circle at Windsor, she would recover some degree of +composure, and in the end, of happiness. My affection for Clara also +led me to oppose these fond dreams of cherished grief; her sensibility +had already been too much excited; her infant heedlessness too soon +exchanged for deep and anxious thought. The strange and romantic scheme +of her mother, might confirm and perpetuate the painful view of life, +which had intruded itself thus early on her contemplation. + +On returning home, the captain of the steam packet with whom I had +agreed to sail, came to tell me, that accidental circumstances hastened +his departure, and that, if I went with him, I must come on board at +five on the following morning. I hastily gave my consent to this +arrangement, and as hastily formed a plan through which Perdita should +be forced to become my companion. I believe that most people in my +situation would have acted in the same manner. Yet this consideration +does not, or rather did not in after time, diminish the reproaches of +my conscience. At the moment, I felt convinced that I was acting for +the best, and that all I did was right and even necessary. + +I sat with Perdita and soothed her, by my seeming assent to her wild +scheme. She received my concurrence with pleasure, and a thousand times +over thanked her deceiving, deceitful brother. As night came on, her +spirits, enlivened by my unexpected concession, regained an almost +forgotten vivacity. I pretended to be alarmed by the feverish glow in +her cheek; I entreated her to take a composing draught; I poured out +the medicine, which she took docilely from me. I watched her as she +drank it. Falsehood and artifice are in themselves so hateful, that, +though I still thought I did right, a feeling of shame and guilt came +painfully upon me. I left her, and soon heard that she slept soundly +under the influence of the opiate I had administered. She was carried +thus unconscious on board; the anchor weighed, and the wind being +favourable, we stood far out to sea; with all the canvas spread, and +the power of the engine to assist, we scudded swiftly and steadily +through the chafed element. + +It was late in the day before Perdita awoke, and a longer time elapsed +before recovering from the torpor occasioned by the laudanum, she +perceived her change of situation. She started wildly from her couch, +and flew to the cabin window. The blue and troubled sea sped past the +vessel, and was spread shoreless around: the sky was covered by a rack, +which in its swift motion shewed how speedily she was borne away. The +creaking of the masts, the clang of the wheels, the tramp above, all +persuaded her that she was already far from the shores of +Greece.—“Where are we?” she cried, “where are we going?”— + +The attendant whom I had stationed to watch her, replied, “to +England.”— + +“And my brother?”— + +“Is on deck, Madam.” + +“Unkind! unkind!” exclaimed the poor victim, as with a deep sigh she +looked on the waste of waters. Then without further remark, she threw +herself on her couch, and closing her eyes remained motionless; so that +but for the deep sighs that burst from her, it would have seemed that +she slept. + +As soon as I heard that she had spoken, I sent Clara to her, that the +sight of the lovely innocent might inspire gentle and affectionate +thoughts. But neither the presence of her child, nor a subsequent visit +from me, could rouse my sister. She looked on Clara with a countenance +of woful meaning, but she did not speak. When I appeared, she turned +away, and in reply to my enquiries, only said, “You know not what you +have done!”—I trusted that this sullenness betokened merely the +struggle between disappointment and natural affection, and that in a +few days she would be reconciled to her fate. + +When night came on, she begged that Clara might sleep in a separate +cabin. Her servant, however, remained with her. About midnight she +spoke to the latter, saying that she had had a bad dream, and bade her +go to her daughter, and bring word whether she rested quietly. The +woman obeyed. + +The breeze, that had flagged since sunset, now rose again. I was on +deck, enjoying our swift progress. The quiet was disturbed only by the +rush of waters as they divided before the steady keel, the murmur of +the moveless and full sails, the wind whistling in the shrouds, and the +regular motion of the engine. The sea was gently agitated, now shewing +a white crest, and now resuming an uniform hue; the clouds had +disappeared; and dark ether clipt the broad ocean, in which the +constellations vainly sought their accustomed mirror. Our rate could +not have been less than eight knots. + +Suddenly I heard a splash in the sea. The sailors on watch rushed to +the side of the vessel, with the cry—some one gone overboard. “It is +not from deck,” said the man at the helm, “something has been thrown +from the aft cabin.” A call for the boat to be lowered was echoed from +the deck. I rushed into my sister’s cabin; it was empty. + +With sails abaft, the engine stopt, the vessel remained unwillingly +stationary, until, after an hour’s search, my poor Perdita was brought +on board. But no care could re-animate her, no medicine cause her dear +eyes to open, and the blood to flow again from her pulseless heart. One +clenched hand contained a slip of paper, on which was written, “To +Athens.” To ensure her removal thither, and prevent the irrecoverable +loss of her body in the wide sea, she had had the precaution to fasten +a long shawl round her waist, and again to the staunchions of the cabin +window. She had drifted somewhat under the keel of the vessel, and her +being out of sight occasioned the delay in finding her. And thus the +ill-starred girl died a victim to my senseless rashness. Thus, in early +day, she left us for the company of the dead, and preferred to share +the rocky grave of Raymond, before the animated scene this cheerful +earth afforded, and the society of loving friends. Thus in her +twenty-ninth year she died; having enjoyed some few years of the +happiness of paradise, and sustaining a reverse to which her impatient +spirit and affectionate disposition were unable to submit. As I marked +the placid expression that had settled on her countenance in death, I +felt, in spite of the pangs of remorse, in spite of heart-rending +regret, that it was better to die so, than to drag on long, miserable +years of repining and inconsolable grief. Stress of weather drove us up +the Adriatic Gulph; and, our vessel being hardly fitted to weather a +storm, we took refuge in the port of Ancona. Here I met Georgio Palli, +the vice-admiral of the Greek fleet, a former friend and warm partizan +of Raymond. I committed the remains of my lost Perdita to his care, for +the purpose of having them transported to Hymettus, and placed in the +cell her Raymond already occupied beneath the pyramid. This was all +accomplished even as I wished. She reposed beside her beloved, and the +tomb above was inscribed with the united names of Raymond and Perdita. + +I then came to a resolution of pursuing our journey to England +overland. My own heart was racked by regrets and remorse. The +apprehension, that Raymond had departed for ever, that his name, +blended eternally with the past, must be erased from every anticipation +of the future, had come slowly upon me. I had always admired his +talents; his noble aspirations; his grand conceptions of the glory and +majesty of his ambition: his utter want of mean passions; his fortitude +and daring. In Greece I had learnt to love him; his very waywardness, +and self-abandonment to the impulses of superstition, attached me to +him doubly; it might be weakness, but it was the antipodes of all that +was grovelling and selfish. To these pangs were added the loss of +Perdita, lost through my own accursed self-will and conceit. This dear +one, my sole relation; whose progress I had marked from tender +childhood through the varied path of life, and seen her throughout +conspicuous for integrity, devotion, and true affection; for all that +constitutes the peculiar graces of the female character, and beheld her +at last the victim of too much loving, too constant an attachment to +the perishable and lost, she, in her pride of beauty and life, had +thrown aside the pleasant perception of the apparent world for the +unreality of the grave, and had left poor Clara quite an orphan. I +concealed from this beloved child that her mother’s death was +voluntary, and tried every means to awaken cheerfulness in her +sorrow-stricken spirit. + +One of my first acts for the recovery even of my own composure, was to +bid farewell to the sea. Its hateful splash renewed again and again to +my sense the death of my sister; its roar was a dirge; in every dark +hull that was tossed on its inconstant bosom, I imaged a bier, that +would convey to death all who trusted to its treacherous smiles. +Farewell to the sea! Come, my Clara, sit beside me in this aerial bark; +quickly and gently it cleaves the azure serene, and with soft +undulation glides upon the current of the air; or, if storm shake its +fragile mechanism, the green earth is below; we can descend, and take +shelter on the stable continent. Here aloft, the companions of the +swift-winged birds, we skim through the unresisting element, fleetly +and fearlessly. The light boat heaves not, nor is opposed by +death-bearing waves; the ether opens before the prow, and the shadow of +the globe that upholds it, shelters us from the noon-day sun. Beneath +are the plains of Italy, or the vast undulations of the wave-like +Apennines: fertility reposes in their many folds, and woods crown the +summits. The free and happy peasant, unshackled by the Austrian, bears +the double harvest to the garner; and the refined citizens rear without +dread the long blighted tree of knowledge in this garden of the world. +We were lifted above the Alpine peaks, and from their deep and brawling +ravines entered the plain of fair France, and after an airy journey of +six days, we landed at Dieppe, furled the feathered wings, and closed +the silken globe of our little pinnace. A heavy rain made this mode of +travelling now incommodious; so we embarked in a steam-packet, and +after a short passage landed at Portsmouth. + +A strange story was rife here. A few days before, a tempest-struck +vessel had appeared off the town: the hull was parched-looking and +cracked, the sails rent, and bent in a careless, unseamanlike manner, +the shrouds tangled and broken. She drifted towards the harbour, and +was stranded on the sands at the entrance. In the morning the +custom-house officers, together with a crowd of idlers, visited her. +One only of the crew appeared to have arrived with her. He had got to +shore, and had walked a few paces towards the town, and then, +vanquished by malady and approaching death, had fallen on the +inhospitable beach. He was found stiff, his hands clenched, and pressed +against his breast. His skin, nearly black, his matted hair and bristly +beard, were signs of a long protracted misery. It was whispered that he +had died of the plague. No one ventured on board the vessel, and +strange sights were averred to be seen at night, walking the deck, and +hanging on the masts and shrouds. She soon went to pieces; I was shewn +where she had been, and saw her disjoined timbers tossed on the waves. +The body of the man who had landed, had been buried deep in the sands; +and none could tell more, than that the vessel was American built, and +that several months before the Fortunatas had sailed from Philadelphia, +of which no tidings were afterwards received. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +I returned to my family estate in the autumn of the year 2092. My heart +had long been with them; and I felt sick with the hope and delight of +seeing them again. The district which contained them appeared the abode +of every kindly spirit. Happiness, love and peace, walked the forest +paths, and tempered the atmosphere. After all the agitation and sorrow +I had endured in Greece, I sought Windsor, as the storm-driven bird +does the nest in which it may fold its wings in tranquillity. + +How unwise had the wanderers been, who had deserted its shelter, +entangled themselves in the web of society, and entered on what men of +the world call “life,”—that labyrinth of evil, that scheme of mutual +torture. To live, according to this sense of the word, we must not only +observe and learn, we must also feel; we must not be mere spectators of +action, we must act; we must not describe, but be subjects of +description. Deep sorrow must have been the inmate of our bosoms; fraud +must have lain in wait for us; the artful must have deceived us; +sickening doubt and false hope must have chequered our days; hilarity +and joy, that lap the soul in ecstasy, must at times have possessed us. +Who that knows what “life” is, would pine for this feverish species of +existence? I have lived. I have spent days and nights of festivity; I +have joined in ambitious hopes, and exulted in victory: now,—shut the +door on the world, and build high the wall that is to separate me from +the troubled scene enacted within its precincts. Let us live for each +other and for happiness; let us seek peace in our dear home, near the +inland murmur of streams, and the gracious waving of trees, the +beauteous vesture of earth, and sublime pageantry of the skies. Let us +leave “life,” that we may live. + +Idris was well content with this resolve of mine. Her native +sprightliness needed no undue excitement, and her placid heart reposed +contented on my love, the well-being of her children, and the beauty of +surrounding nature. Her pride and blameless ambition was to create +smiles in all around her, and to shed repose on the fragile existence +of her brother. In spite of her tender nursing, the health of Adrian +perceptibly declined. Walking, riding, the common occupations of life, +overcame him: he felt no pain, but seemed to tremble for ever on the +verge of annihilation. Yet, as he had lived on for months nearly in the +same state, he did not inspire us with any immediate fear; and, though +he talked of death as an event most familiar to his thoughts, he did +not cease to exert himself to render others happy, or to cultivate his +own astonishing powers of mind. Winter passed away; and spring, led by +the months, awakened life in all nature. The forest was dressed in +green; the young calves frisked on the new-sprung grass; the +wind-winged shadows of light clouds sped over the green cornfields; the +hermit cuckoo repeated his monotonous all-hail to the season; the +nightingale, bird of love and minion of the evening star, filled the +woods with song; while Venus lingered in the warm sunset, and the young +green of the trees lay in gentle relief along the clear horizon. + +Delight awoke in every heart, delight and exultation; for there was +peace through all the world; the temple of Universal Janus was shut, +and man died not that year by the hand of man. + +“Let this last but twelve months,” said Adrian; “and earth will become +a Paradise. The energies of man were before directed to the destruction +of his species: they now aim at its liberation and preservation. Man +cannot repose, and his restless aspirations will now bring forth good +instead of evil. The favoured countries of the south will throw off the +iron yoke of servitude; poverty will quit us, and with that, sickness. +What may not the forces, never before united, of liberty and peace +achieve in this dwelling of man?” + +“Dreaming, for ever dreaming, Windsor!” said Ryland, the old adversary +of Raymond, and candidate for the Protectorate at the ensuing election. +“Be assured that earth is not, nor ever can be heaven, while the seeds +of hell are natives of her soil. When the seasons have become equal, +when the air breeds no disorders, when its surface is no longer liable +to blights and droughts, then sickness will cease; when men’s passions +are dead, poverty will depart. When love is no longer akin to hate, +then brotherhood will exist: we are very far from that state at +present.” + +“Not so far as you may suppose,” observed a little old astronomer, by +name Merrival, “the poles precede slowly, but securely; in an hundred +thousand years—” + +“We shall all be underground,” said Ryland. + +“The pole of the earth will coincide with the pole of the ecliptic,” +continued the astronomer, “an universal spring will be produced, and +earth become a paradise.” + +“And we shall of course enjoy the benefit of the change,” said Ryland, +contemptuously. + +“We have strange news here,” I observed. I had the newspaper in my +hand, and, as usual, had turned to the intelligence from Greece. “It +seems that the total destruction of Constantinople, and the supposition +that winter had purified the air of the fallen city, gave the Greeks +courage to visit its site, and begin to rebuild it. But they tell us +that the curse of God is on the place, for every one who has ventured +within the walls has been tainted by the plague; that this disease has +spread in Thrace and Macedonia; and now, fearing the virulence of +infection during the coming heats, a cordon has been drawn on the +frontiers of Thessaly, and a strict quarantine exacted.” This +intelligence brought us back from the prospect of paradise, held out +after the lapse of an hundred thousand years, to the pain and misery at +present existent upon earth. We talked of the ravages made last year by +pestilence in every quarter of the world; and of the dreadful +consequences of a second visitation. We discussed the best means of +preventing infection, and of preserving health and activity in a large +city thus afflicted—London, for instance. Merrival did not join in this +conversation; drawing near Idris, he proceeded to assure her that the +joyful prospect of an earthly paradise after an hundred thousand years, +was clouded to him by the knowledge that in a certain period of time +after, an earthly hell or purgatory, would occur, when the ecliptic and +equator would be at right angles.[4] Our party at length broke up; “We +are all dreaming this morning,” said Ryland, “it is as wise to discuss +the probability of a visitation of the plague in our well-governed +metropolis, as to calculate the centuries which must escape before we +can grow pine-apples here in the open air.” + +But, though it seemed absurd to calculate upon the arrival of the +plague in London, I could not reflect without extreme pain on the +desolation this evil would cause in Greece. The English for the most +part talked of Thrace and Macedonia, as they would of a lunar +territory, which, unknown to them, presented no distinct idea or +interest to the minds. I had trod the soil. The faces of many of the +inhabitants were familiar to me; in the towns, plains, hills, and +defiles of these countries, I had enjoyed unspeakable delight, as I +journied through them the year before. Some romantic village, some +cottage, or elegant abode there situated, inhabited by the lovely and +the good, rose before my mental sight, and the question haunted me, is +the plague there also?—That same invincible monster, which hovered over +and devoured Constantinople—that fiend more cruel than tempest, less +tame than fire, is, alas, unchained in that beautiful country—these +reflections would not allow me to rest. + +The political state of England became agitated as the time drew near +when the new Protector was to be elected. This event excited the more +interest, since it was the current report, that if the popular +candidate (Ryland) should be chosen, the question of the abolition of +hereditary rank, and other feudal relics, would come under the +consideration of parliament. Not a word had been spoken during the +present session on any of these topics. Every thing would depend upon +the choice of a Protector, and the elections of the ensuing year. Yet +this very silence was awful, shewing the deep weight attributed to the +question; the fear of either party to hazard an ill-timed attack, and +the expectation of a furious contention when it should begin. + +But although St. Stephen’s did not echo with the voice which filled +each heart, the newspapers teemed with nothing else; and in private +companies the conversation however remotely begun, soon verged towards +this central point, while voices were lowered and chairs drawn closer. +The nobles did not hesitate to express their fear; the other party +endeavoured to treat the matter lightly. “Shame on the country,” said +Ryland, “to lay so much stress upon words and frippery; it is a +question of nothing; of the new painting of carriage-pannels and the +embroidery of footmen’s coats.” + +Yet could England indeed doff her lordly trappings, and be content with +the democratic style of America? Were the pride of ancestry, the +patrician spirit, the gentle courtesies and refined pursuits, splendid +attributes of rank, to be erased among us? We were told that this would +not be the case; that we were by nature a poetical people, a nation +easily duped by words, ready to array clouds in splendour, and bestow +honour on the dust. This spirit we could never lose; and it was to +diffuse this concentrated spirit of birth, that the new law was to be +brought forward. We were assured that, when the name and title of +Englishman was the sole patent of nobility, we should all be noble; +that when no man born under English sway, felt another his superior in +rank, courtesy and refinement would become the birth-right of all our +countrymen. Let not England be so far disgraced, as to have it imagined +that it can be without nobles, nature’s true nobility, who bear their +patent in their mien, who are from their cradle elevated above the rest +of their species, because they are better than the rest. Among a race +of independent, and generous, and well educated men, in a country where +the imagination is empress of men’s minds, there needs be no fear that +we should want a perpetual succession of the high-born and lordly. That +party, however, could hardly yet be considered a minority in the +kingdom, who extolled the ornament of the column, “the Corinthian +capital of polished society;” they appealed to prejudices without +number, to old attachments and young hopes; to the expectation of +thousands who might one day become peers; they set up as a scarecrow, +the spectre of all that was sordid, mechanic and base in the commercial +republics. + +The plague had come to Athens. Hundreds of English residents returned +to their own country. Raymond’s beloved Athenians, the free, the noble +people of the divinest town in Greece, fell like ripe corn before the +merciless sickle of the adversary. Its pleasant places were deserted; +its temples and palaces were converted into tombs; its energies, bent +before towards the highest objects of human ambition, were now forced +to converge to one point, the guarding against the innumerous arrows of +the plague. + +At any other time this disaster would have excited extreme compassion +among us; but it was now passed over, while each mind was engaged by +the coming controversy. It was not so with me; and the question of rank +and right dwindled to insignificance in my eyes, when I pictured the +scene of suffering Athens. I heard of the death of only sons; of wives +and husbands most devoted; of the rending of ties twisted with the +heart’s fibres, of friend losing friend, and young mothers mourning for +their first born; and these moving incidents were grouped and painted +in my mind by the knowledge of the persons, by my esteem and affection +for the sufferers. It was the admirers, friends, fellow soldiers of +Raymond, families that had welcomed Perdita to Greece, and lamented +with her the loss of her lord, that were swept away, and went to dwell +with them in the undistinguishing tomb. + +The plague at Athens had been preceded and caused by the contagion from +the East; and the scene of havoc and death continued to be acted there, +on a scale of fearful magnitude. A hope that the visitation of the +present year would prove the last, kept up the spirits of the merchants +connected with these countries; but the inhabitants were driven to +despair, or to a resignation which, arising from fanaticism, assumed +the same dark hue. America had also received the taint; and, were it +yellow fever or plague, the epidemic was gifted with a virulence before +unfelt. The devastation was not confined to the towns, but spread +throughout the country; the hunter died in the woods, the peasant in +the corn-fields, and the fisher on his native waters. + +A strange story was brought to us from the East, to which little credit +would have been given, had not the fact been attested by a multitude of +witnesses, in various parts of the world. On the twenty-first of June, +it was said that an hour before noon, a black sun arose: an orb, the +size of that luminary, but dark, defined, whose beams were shadows, +ascended from the west; in about an hour it had reached the meridian, +and eclipsed the bright parent of day. Night fell upon every country, +night, sudden, rayless, entire. The stars came out, shedding their +ineffectual glimmerings on the light-widowed earth. But soon the dim +orb passed from over the sun, and lingered down the eastern heaven. As +it descended, its dusky rays crossed the brilliant ones of the sun, and +deadened or distorted them. The shadows of things assumed strange and +ghastly shapes. The wild animals in the woods took fright at the +unknown shapes figured on the ground. They fled they knew not whither; +and the citizens were filled with greater dread, at the convulsion +which “shook lions into civil streets;”—birds, strong-winged eagles, +suddenly blinded, fell in the market-places, while owls and bats shewed +themselves welcoming the early night. Gradually the object of fear sank +beneath the horizon, and to the last shot up shadowy beams into the +otherwise radiant air. Such was the tale sent us from Asia, from the +eastern extremity of Europe, and from Africa as far west as the Golden +Coast. Whether this story were true or not, the effects were certain. +Through Asia, from the banks of the Nile to the shores of the Caspian, +from the Hellespont even to the sea of Oman, a sudden panic was driven. +The men filled the mosques; the women, veiled, hastened to the tombs, +and carried offerings to the dead, thus to preserve the living. The +plague was forgotten, in this new fear which the black sun had spread; +and, though the dead multiplied, and the streets of Ispahan, of Pekin, +and of Delhi were strewed with pestilence-struck corpses, men passed +on, gazing on the ominous sky, regardless of the death beneath their +feet. The christians sought their churches,—christian maidens, even at +the feast of roses, clad in white, with shining veils, sought, in long +procession, the places consecrated to their religion, filling the air +with their hymns; while, ever and anon, from the lips of some poor +mourner in the crowd, a voice of wailing burst, and the rest looked up, +fancying they could discern the sweeping wings of angels, who passed +over the earth, lamenting the disasters about to fall on man. + +In the sunny clime of Persia, in the crowded cities of China, amidst +the aromatic groves of Cashmere, and along the southern shores of the +Mediterranean, such scenes had place. Even in Greece the tale of the +sun of darkness encreased the fears and despair of the dying multitude. +We, in our cloudy isle, were far removed from danger, and the only +circumstance that brought these disasters at all home to us, was the +daily arrival of vessels from the east, crowded with emigrants, mostly +English; for the Moslems, though the fear of death was spread keenly +among them, still clung together; that, if they were to die (and if +they were, death would as readily meet them on the homeless sea, or in +far England, as in Persia,)— if they were to die, their bones might +rest in earth made sacred by the relics of true believers. Mecca had +never before been so crowded with pilgrims; yet the Arabs neglected to +pillage the caravans, but, humble and weaponless, they joined the +procession, praying Mahomet to avert plague from their tents and +deserts. + +I cannot describe the rapturous delight with which I turned from +political brawls at home, and the physical evils of distant countries, +to my own dear home, to the selected abode of goodness and love; to +peace, and the interchange of every sacred sympathy. Had I never +quitted Windsor, these emotions would not have been so intense; but I +had in Greece been the prey of fear and deplorable change; in Greece, +after a period of anxiety and sorrow, I had seen depart two, whose very +names were the symbol of greatness and virtue. But such miseries could +never intrude upon the domestic circle left to me, while, secluded in +our beloved forest, we passed our lives in tranquillity. Some small +change indeed the progress of years brought here; and time, as it is +wont, stamped the traces of mortality on our pleasures and +expectations. Idris, the most affectionate wife, sister and friend, was +a tender and loving mother. The feeling was not with her as with many, +a pastime; it was a passion. We had had three children; one, the second +in age, died while I was in Greece. This had dashed the triumphant and +rapturous emotions of maternity with grief and fear. Before this event, +the little beings, sprung from herself, the young heirs of her +transient life, seemed to have a sure lease of existence; now she +dreaded that the pitiless destroyer might snatch her remaining +darlings, as it had snatched their brother. The least illness caused +throes of terror; she was miserable if she were at all absent from +them; her treasure of happiness she had garnered in their fragile +being, and kept forever on the watch, lest the insidious thief should +as before steal these valued gems. She had fortunately small cause for +fear. Alfred, now nine years old, was an upright, manly little fellow, +with radiant brow, soft eyes, and gentle, though independent +disposition. Our youngest was yet in infancy; but his downy cheek was +sprinkled with the roses of health, and his unwearied vivacity filled +our halls with innocent laughter. + +Clara had passed the age which, from its mute ignorance, was the source +of the fears of Idris. Clara was dear to her, to all. There was so much +intelligence combined with innocence, sensibility with forbearance, and +seriousness with perfect good-humour, a beauty so transcendant, united +to such endearing simplicity, that she hung like a pearl in the shrine +of our possessions, a treasure of wonder and excellence. + +At the beginning of winter our Alfred, now nine years of age, first +went to school at Eton. This appeared to him the primary step towards +manhood, and he was proportionably pleased. Community of study and +amusement developed the best parts of his character, his steady +perseverance, generosity, and well-governed firmness. What deep and +sacred emotions are excited in a father’s bosom, when he first becomes +convinced that his love for his child is not a mere instinct, but +worthily bestowed, and that others, less akin, participate his +approbation! It was supreme happiness to Idris and myself, to find that +the frankness which Alfred’s open brow indicated, the intelligence of +his eyes, the tempered sensibility of his tones, were not delusions, +but indications of talents and virtues, which would “grow with his +growth, and strengthen with his strength.” At this period, the +termination of an animal’s love for its offspring,—the true affection +of the human parent commences. We no longer look on this dearest part +of ourselves, as a tender plant which we must cherish, or a plaything +for an idle hour. We build now on his intellectual faculties, we +establish our hopes on his moral propensities. His weakness still +imparts anxiety to this feeling, his ignorance prevents entire +intimacy; but we begin to respect the future man, and to endeavour to +secure his esteem, even as if he were our equal. What can a parent have +more at heart than the good opinion of his child? In all our +transactions with him our honour must be inviolate, the integrity of +our relations untainted: fate and circumstance may, when he arrives at +maturity, separate us for ever—but, as his aegis in danger, his +consolation in hardship, let the ardent youth for ever bear with him +through the rough path of life, love and honour for his parents. + +We had lived so long in the vicinity of Eton, that its population of +young folks was well known to us. Many of them had been Alfred’s +playmates, before they became his school-fellows. We now watched this +youthful congregation with redoubled interest. We marked the difference +of character among the boys, and endeavoured to read the future man in +the stripling. There is nothing more lovely, to which the heart more +yearns than a free-spirited boy, gentle, brave, and generous. Several +of the Etonians had these characteristics; all were distinguished by a +sense of honour, and spirit of enterprize; in some, as they verged +towards manhood, this degenerated into presumption; but the younger +ones, lads a little older than our own, were conspicuous for their +gallant and sweet dispositions. + +Here were the future governors of England; the men, who, when our +ardour was cold, and our projects completed or destroyed for ever, +when, our drama acted, we doffed the garb of the hour, and assumed the +uniform of age, or of more equalizing death; here were the beings who +were to carry on the vast machine of society; here were the lovers, +husbands, fathers; here the landlord, the politician, the soldier; some +fancied that they were even now ready to appear on the stage, eager to +make one among the dramatis personae of active life. It was not long +since I was like one of these beardless aspirants; when my boy shall +have obtained the place I now hold, I shall have tottered into a +grey-headed, wrinkled old man. Strange system! riddle of the Sphynx, +most awe-striking! that thus man remains, while we the individuals pass +away. Such is, to borrow the words of an eloquent and philosophic +writer, “the mode of existence decreed to a permanent body composed of +transitory parts; wherein, by the disposition of a stupendous wisdom, +moulding together the great mysterious incorporation of the human race, +the whole, at one time, is never old, or middle-aged, or young, but, in +a condition of unchangeable constancy, moves on through the varied +tenour of perpetual decay, fall, renovation, and progression.”[5] + +Willingly do I give place to thee, dear Alfred! advance, offspring of +tender love, child of our hopes; advance a soldier on the road to which +I have been the pioneer! I will make way for thee. I have already put +off the carelessness of childhood, the unlined brow, and springy gait +of early years, that they may adorn thee. Advance; and I will despoil +myself still further for thy advantage. Time shall rob me of the graces +of maturity, shall take the fire from my eyes, and agility from my +limbs, shall steal the better part of life, eager expectation and +passionate love, and shower them in double portion on thy dear head. +Advance! avail thyself of the gift, thou and thy comrades; and in the +drama you are about to act, do not disgrace those who taught you to +enter on the stage, and to pronounce becomingly the parts assigned to +you! May your progress be uninterrupted and secure; born during the +spring-tide of the hopes of man, may you lead up the summer to which no +winter may succeed! + + [4] See an ingenious Essay, entitled, “The Mythological Astronomy of + the Ancients Demonstrated,” by Mackey, a shoemaker, of Norwich printed + in 1822. + + + [5] Burke’s Reflections on the French Revolution. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Some disorder had surely crept into the course of the elements, +destroying their benignant influence. The wind, prince of air, raged +through his kingdom, lashing the sea into fury, and subduing the rebel +earth into some sort of obedience. + +The God sends down his angry plagues from high, +Famine and pestilence in heaps they die. +Again in vengeance of his wrath he falls +On their great hosts, and breaks their tottering walls; +Arrests their navies on the ocean’s plain, +And whelms their strength with mountains of the main.[6] + + +Their deadly power shook the flourishing countries of the south, and +during winter, even, we, in our northern retreat, began to quake under +their ill effects. + +That fable is unjust, which gives the superiority to the sun over the +wind. Who has not seen the lightsome earth, the balmy atmosphere, and +basking nature become dark, cold and ungenial, when the sleeping wind +has awoke in the east? Or, when the dun clouds thickly veil the sky, +while exhaustless stores of rain are poured down, until, the dank earth +refusing to imbibe the superabundant moisture, it lies in pools on the +surface; when the torch of day seems like a meteor, to be quenched; who +has not seen the cloud-stirring north arise, the streaked blue appear, +and soon an opening made in the vapours in the eye of the wind, through +which the bright azure shines? The clouds become thin; an arch is +formed for ever rising upwards, till, the universal cope being +unveiled, the sun pours forth its rays, re-animated and fed by the +breeze. + +Then mighty art thou, O wind, to be throned above all other vicegerents +of nature’s power; whether thou comest destroying from the east, or +pregnant with elementary life from the west; thee the clouds obey; the +sun is subservient to thee; the shoreless ocean is thy slave! Thou +sweepest over the earth, and oaks, the growth of centuries, submit to +thy viewless axe; the snow-drift is scattered on the pinnacles of the +Alps, the avalanche thunders down their vallies. Thou holdest the keys +of the frost, and canst first chain and then set free the streams; +under thy gentle governance the buds and leaves are born, they flourish +nursed by thee. + +Why dost thou howl thus, O wind? By day and by night for four long +months thy roarings have not ceased—the shores of the sea are strewn +with wrecks, its keel-welcoming surface has become impassable, the +earth has shed her beauty in obedience to thy command; the frail +balloon dares no longer sail on the agitated air; thy ministers, the +clouds, deluge the land with rain; rivers forsake their banks; the wild +torrent tears up the mountain path; plain and wood, and verdant dell +are despoiled of their loveliness; our very cities are wasted by thee. +Alas, what will become of us? It seems as if the giant waves of ocean, +and vast arms of the sea, were about to wrench the deep-rooted island +from its centre; and cast it, a ruin and a wreck, upon the fields of +the Atlantic. + +What are we, the inhabitants of this globe, least among the many that +people infinite space? Our minds embrace infinity; the visible +mechanism of our being is subject to merest accident. Day by day we are +forced to believe this. He whom a scratch has disorganized, he who +disappears from apparent life under the influence of the hostile agency +at work around us, had the same powers as I—I also am subject to the +same laws. In the face of all this we call ourselves lords of the +creation, wielders of the elements, masters of life and death, and we +allege in excuse of this arrogance, that though the individual is +destroyed, man continues for ever. + +Thus, losing our identity, that of which we are chiefly conscious, we +glory in the continuity of our species, and learn to regard death +without terror. But when any whole nation becomes the victim of the +destructive powers of exterior agents, then indeed man shrinks into +insignificance, he feels his tenure of life insecure, his inheritance +on earth cut off. + +I remember, after having witnessed the destructive effects of a fire, I +could not even behold a small one in a stove, without a sensation of +fear. The mounting flames had curled round the building, as it fell, +and was destroyed. They insinuated themselves into the substances about +them, and the impediments to their progress yielded at their touch. +Could we take integral parts of this power, and not be subject to its +operation? Could we domesticate a cub of this wild beast, and not fear +its growth and maturity? + +Thus we began to feel, with regard to many-visaged death let loose on +the chosen districts of our fair habitation, and above all, with regard +to the plague. We feared the coming summer. Nations, bordering on the +already infected countries, began to enter upon serious plans for the +better keeping out of the enemy. We, a commercial people, were obliged +to bring such schemes under consideration; and the question of +contagion became matter of earnest disquisition. + +That the plague was not what is commonly called contagious, like the +scarlet fever, or extinct small-pox, was proved. It was called an +epidemic. But the grand question was still unsettled of how this +epidemic was generated and increased. If infection depended upon the +air, the air was subject to infection. As for instance, a typhus fever +has been brought by ships to one sea-port town; yet the very people who +brought it there, were incapable of communicating it in a town more +fortunately situated. But how are we to judge of airs, and pronounce—in +such a city plague will die unproductive; in such another, nature has +provided for it a plentiful harvest? In the same way, individuals may +escape ninety-nine times, and receive the death-blow at the hundredth; +because bodies are sometimes in a state to reject the infection of +malady, and at others, thirsty to imbibe it. These reflections made our +legislators pause, before they could decide on the laws to be put in +force. The evil was so wide-spreading, so violent and immedicable, that +no care, no prevention could be judged superfluous, which even added a +chance to our escape. + +These were questions of prudence; there was no immediate necessity for +an earnest caution. England was still secure. France, Germany, Italy +and Spain, were interposed, walls yet without a breach, between us and +the plague. Our vessels truly were the sport of winds and waves, even +as Gulliver was the toy of the Brobdignagians; but we on our stable +abode could not be hurt in life or limb by these eruptions of nature. +We could not fear—we did not. Yet a feeling of awe, a breathless +sentiment of wonder, a painful sense of the degradation of humanity, +was introduced into every heart. Nature, our mother, and our friend, +had turned on us a brow of menace. She shewed us plainly, that, though +she permitted us to assign her laws and subdue her apparent powers, +yet, if she put forth but a finger, we must quake. She could take our +globe, fringed with mountains, girded by the atmosphere, containing the +condition of our being, and all that man’s mind could invent or his +force achieve; she could take the ball in her hand, and cast it into +space, where life would be drunk up, and man and all his efforts for +ever annihilated. + +These speculations were rife among us; yet not the less we proceeded in +our daily occupations, and our plans, whose accomplishment demanded the +lapse of many years. No voice was heard telling us to hold! When +foreign distresses came to be felt by us through the channels of +commerce, we set ourselves to apply remedies. Subscriptions were made +for the emigrants, and merchants bankrupt by the failure of trade. The +English spirit awoke to its full activity, and, as it had ever done, +set itself to resist the evil, and to stand in the breach which +diseased nature had suffered chaos and death to make in the bounds and +banks which had hitherto kept them out. + +At the commencement of summer, we began to feel, that the mischief +which had taken place in distant countries was greater than we had at +first suspected. Quito was destroyed by an earthquake. Mexico laid +waste by the united effects of storm, pestilence and famine. Crowds of +emigrants inundated the west of Europe; and our island had become the +refuge of thousands. In the mean time Ryland had been chosen Protector. +He had sought this office with eagerness, under the idea of turning his +whole forces to the suppression of the privileged orders of our +community. His measures were thwarted, and his schemes interrupted by +this new state of things. Many of the foreigners were utterly +destitute; and their increasing numbers at length forbade a recourse to +the usual modes of relief. Trade was stopped by the failure of the +interchange of cargoes usual between us, and America, India, Egypt and +Greece. A sudden break was made in the routine of our lives. In vain +our Protector and his partizans sought to conceal this truth; in vain, +day after day, he appointed a period for the discussion of the new laws +concerning hereditary rank and privilege; in vain he endeavoured to +represent the evil as partial and temporary. These disasters came home +to so many bosoms, and, through the various channels of commerce, were +carried so entirely into every class and division of the community, +that of necessity they became the first question in the state, the +chief subjects to which we must turn our attention. + +Can it be true, each asked the other with wonder and dismay, that whole +countries are laid waste, whole nations annihilated, by these disorders +in nature? The vast cities of America, the fertile plains of Hindostan, +the crowded abodes of the Chinese, are menaced with utter ruin. Where +late the busy multitudes assembled for pleasure or profit, now only the +sound of wailing and misery is heard. The air is empoisoned, and each +human being inhales death, even while in youth and health, their hopes +are in the flower. We called to mind the plague of 1348, when it was +calculated that a third of mankind had been destroyed. As yet western +Europe was uninfected; would it always be so? + +O, yes, it would—Countrymen, fear not! In the still uncultivated wilds +of America, what wonder that among its other giant destroyers, plague +should be numbered! It is of old a native of the East, sister of the +tornado, the earthquake, and the simoon. Child of the sun, and nursling +of the tropics, it would expire in these climes. It drinks the dark +blood of the inhabitant of the south, but it never feasts on the +pale-faced Celt. If perchance some stricken Asiatic come among us, +plague dies with him, uncommunicated and innoxious. Let us weep for our +brethren, though we can never experience their reverse. Let us lament +over and assist the children of the garden of the earth. Late we envied +their abodes, their spicy groves, fertile plains, and abundant +loveliness. But in this mortal life extremes are always matched; the +thorn grows with the rose, the poison tree and the cinnamon mingle +their boughs. Persia, with its cloth of gold, marble halls, and +infinite wealth, is now a tomb. The tent of the Arab is fallen in the +sands, and his horse spurns the ground unbridled and unsaddled. The +voice of lamentation fills the valley of Cashmere; its dells and woods, +its cool fountains, and gardens of roses, are polluted by the dead; in +Circassia and Georgia the spirit of beauty weeps over the ruin of its +favourite temple—the form of woman. + +Our own distresses, though they were occasioned by the fictitious +reciprocity of commerce, encreased in due proportion. Bankers, +merchants, and manufacturers, whose trade depended on exports and +interchange of wealth, became bankrupt. Such things, when they happen +singly, affect only the immediate parties; but the prosperity of the +nation was now shaken by frequent and extensive losses. Families, bred +in opulence and luxury, were reduced to beggary. The very state of +peace in which we gloried was injurious; there were no means of +employing the idle, or of sending any overplus of population out of the +country. Even the source of colonies was dried up, for in New Holland, +Van Diemen’s Land, and the Cape of Good Hope, plague raged. O, for some +medicinal vial to purge unwholesome nature, and bring back the earth to +its accustomed health! + +Ryland was a man of strong intellects and quick and sound decision in +the usual course of things, but he stood aghast at the multitude of +evils that gathered round us. Must he tax the landed interest to assist +our commercial population? To do this, he must gain the favour of the +chief land-holders, the nobility of the country; and these were his +vowed enemies—he must conciliate them by abandoning his favourite +scheme of equalization; he must confirm them in their manorial rights; +he must sell his cherished plans for the permanent good of his country, +for temporary relief. He must aim no more at the dear object of his +ambition; throwing his arms aside, he must for present ends give up the +ultimate object of his endeavours. He came to Windsor to consult with +us. Every day added to his difficulties; the arrival of fresh vessels +with emigrants, the total cessation of commerce, the starving multitude +that thronged around the palace of the Protectorate, were circumstances +not to be tampered with. The blow was struck; the aristocracy obtained +all they wished, and they subscribed to a twelvemonths’ bill, which +levied twenty per cent on all the rent-rolls of the country. Calm was +now restored to the metropolis, and to the populous cities, before +driven to desperation; and we returned to the consideration of distant +calamities, wondering if the future would bring any alleviation to +their excess. It was August; so there could be small hope of relief +during the heats. On the contrary, the disease gained virulence, while +starvation did its accustomed work. Thousands died unlamented; for +beside the yet warm corpse the mourner was stretched, made mute by +death. + +On the eighteenth of this month news arrived in London that the plague +was in France and Italy. These tidings were at first whispered about +town; but no one dared express aloud the soul-quailing intelligence. +When any one met a friend in the street, he only cried as he hurried +on, “You know!”— while the other, with an ejaculation of fear and +horror, would answer,— “What will become of us?” At length it was +mentioned in the newspapers. The paragraph was inserted in an obscure +part: “We regret to state that there can be no longer a doubt of the +plague having been introduced at Leghorn, Genoa, and Marseilles.” No +word of comment followed; each reader made his own fearful one. We were +as a man who hears that his house is burning, and yet hurries through +the streets, borne along by a lurking hope of a mistake, till he turns +the corner, and sees his sheltering roof enveloped in a flame. Before +it had been a rumour; but now in words uneraseable, in definite and +undeniable print, the knowledge went forth. Its obscurity of situation +rendered it the more conspicuous: the diminutive letters grew gigantic +to the bewildered eye of fear: they seemed graven with a pen of iron, +impressed by fire, woven in the clouds, stamped on the very front of +the universe. + +The English, whether travellers or residents, came pouring in one great +revulsive stream, back on their own country; and with them crowds of +Italians and Spaniards. Our little island was filled even to bursting. +At first an unusual quantity of specie made its appearance with the +emigrants; but these people had no means of receiving back into their +hands what they spent among us. With the advance of summer, and the +increase of the distemper, rents were unpaid, and their remittances +failed them. It was impossible to see these crowds of wretched, +perishing creatures, late nurslings of luxury, and not stretch out a +hand to save them. As at the conclusion of the eighteenth century, the +English unlocked their hospitable store, for the relief of those driven +from their homes by political revolution; so now they were not backward +in affording aid to the victims of a more wide-spreading calamity. We +had many foreign friends whom we eagerly sought out, and relieved from +dreadful penury. Our Castle became an asylum for the unhappy. A little +population occupied its halls. The revenue of its possessor, which had +always found a mode of expenditure congenial to his generous nature, +was now attended to more parsimoniously, that it might embrace a wider +portion of utility. It was not however money, except partially, but the +necessaries of life, that became scarce. It was difficult to find an +immediate remedy. The usual one of imports was entirely cut off. In +this emergency, to feed the very people to whom we had given refuge, we +were obliged to yield to the plough and the mattock our +pleasure-grounds and parks. Live stock diminished sensibly in the +country, from the effects of the great demand in the market. Even the +poor deer, our antlered proteges, were obliged to fall for the sake of +worthier pensioners. The labour necessary to bring the lands to this +sort of culture, employed and fed the offcasts of the diminished +manufactories. + +Adrian did not rest only with the exertions he could make with regard +to his own possessions. He addressed himself to the wealthy of the +land; he made proposals in parliament little adapted to please the +rich; but his earnest pleadings and benevolent eloquence were +irresistible. To give up their pleasure-grounds to the agriculturist, +to diminish sensibly the number of horses kept for the purposes of +luxury throughout the country, were means obvious, but unpleasing. Yet, +to the honour of the English be it recorded, that, although natural +disinclination made them delay awhile, yet when the misery of their +fellow-creatures became glaring, an enthusiastic generosity inspired +their decrees. The most luxurious were often the first to part with +their indulgencies. As is common in communities, a fashion was set. The +high-born ladies of the country would have deemed themselves disgraced +if they had now enjoyed, what they before called a necessary, the ease +of a carriage. Chairs, as in olden time, and Indian palanquins were +introduced for the infirm; but else it was nothing singular to see +females of rank going on foot to places of fashionable resort. It was +more common, for all who possessed landed property to secede to their +estates, attended by whole troops of the indigent, to cut down their +woods to erect temporary dwellings, and to portion out their parks, +parterres and flower-gardens, to necessitous families. Many of these, +of high rank in their own countries, now, with hoe in hand, turned up +the soil. It was found necessary at last to check the spirit of +sacrifice, and to remind those whose generosity proceeded to lavish +waste, that, until the present state of things became permanent, of +which there was no likelihood, it was wrong to carry change so far as +to make a reaction difficult. Experience demonstrated that in a year or +two pestilence would cease; it were well that in the mean time we +should not have destroyed our fine breeds of horses, or have utterly +changed the face of the ornamented portion of the country. + +It may be imagined that things were in a bad state indeed, before this +spirit of benevolence could have struck such deep roots. The infection +had now spread in the southern provinces of France. But that country +had so many resources in the way of agriculture, that the rush of +population from one part of it to another, and its increase through +foreign emigration, was less felt than with us. The panic struck +appeared of more injury, than disease and its natural concomitants. + +Winter was hailed, a general and never-failing physician. The +embrowning woods, and swollen rivers, the evening mists, and morning +frosts, were welcomed with gratitude. The effects of purifying cold +were immediately felt; and the lists of mortality abroad were curtailed +each week. Many of our visitors left us: those whose homes were far in +the south, fled delightedly from our northern winter, and sought their +native land, secure of plenty even after their fearful visitation. We +breathed again. What the coming summer would bring, we knew not; but +the present months were our own, and our hopes of a cessation of +pestilence were high. + + [6]Elton’s translation of Hesiod’s Works. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +I have lingered thus long on the extreme bank, the wasting shoal that +stretched into the stream of life, dallying with the shadow of death. +Thus long, I have cradled my heart in retrospection of past happiness, +when hope was. Why not for ever thus? I am not immortal; and the thread +of my history might be spun out to the limits of my existence. But the +same sentiment that first led me to pourtray scenes replete with tender +recollections, now bids me hurry on. The same yearning of this warm, +panting heart, that has made me in written words record my vagabond +youth, my serene manhood, and the passions of my soul, makes me now +recoil from further delay. I must complete my work. + +Here then I stand, as I said, beside the fleet waters of the flowing +years, and now away! Spread the sail, and strain with oar, hurrying by +dark impending crags, adown steep rapids, even to the sea of desolation +I have reached. Yet one moment, one brief interval before I put from +shore— once, once again let me fancy myself as I was in 2094 in my +abode at Windsor, let me close my eyes, and imagine that the +immeasurable boughs of its oaks still shadow me, its castle walls +anear. Let fancy pourtray the joyous scene of the twentieth of June, +such as even now my aching heart recalls it. + +Circumstances had called me to London; here I heard talk that symptoms +of the plague had occurred in hospitals of that city. I returned to +Windsor; my brow was clouded, my heart heavy; I entered the Little +Park, as was my custom, at the Frogmore gate, on my way to the Castle. +A great part of these grounds had been given to cultivation, and strips +of potatoe-land and corn were scattered here and there. The rooks cawed +loudly in the trees above; mixed with their hoarse cries I heard a +lively strain of music. It was Alfred’s birthday. The young people, the +Etonians, and children of the neighbouring gentry, held a mock fair, to +which all the country people were invited. The park was speckled by +tents, whose flaunting colours and gaudy flags, waving in the sunshine, +added to the gaiety of the scene. On a platform erected beneath the +terrace, a number of the younger part of the assembly were dancing. I +leaned against a tree to observe them. The band played the wild eastern +air of Weber introduced in Abon Hassan; its volatile notes gave wings +to the feet of the dancers, while the lookers-on unconsciously beat +time. At first the tripping measure lifted my spirit with it, and for a +moment my eyes gladly followed the mazes of the dance. The revulsion of +thought passed like keen steel to my heart. Ye are all going to die, I +thought; already your tomb is built up around you. Awhile, because you +are gifted with agility and strength, you fancy that you live: but +frail is the “bower of flesh” that encaskets life; dissoluble the +silver cord that binds you to it. The joyous soul, charioted from +pleasure to pleasure by the graceful mechanism of well-formed limbs, +will suddenly feel the axle-tree give way, and spring and wheel +dissolve in dust. Not one of you, O! fated crowd, can escape—not one! +not my own ones! not my Idris and her babes! Horror and misery! Already +the gay dance vanished, the green sward was strewn with corpses, the +blue air above became fetid with deathly exhalations. Shriek, ye +clarions! ye loud trumpets, howl! Pile dirge on dirge; rouse the +funereal chords; let the air ring with dire wailing; let wild discord +rush on the wings of the wind! Already I hear it, while guardian +angels, attendant on humanity, their task achieved, hasten away, and +their departure is announced by melancholy strains; faces all unseemly +with weeping, forced open my lids; faster and faster many groups of +these woe-begone countenances thronged around, exhibiting every variety +of wretchedness—well known faces mingled with the distorted creations +of fancy. Ashy pale, Raymond and Perdita sat apart, looking on with sad +smiles. Adrian’s countenance flitted across, tainted by death—Idris, +with eyes languidly closed and livid lips, was about to slide into the +wide grave. The confusion grew—their looks of sorrow changed to +mockery; they nodded their heads in time to the music, whose clang +became maddening. + +I felt that this was insanity—I sprang forward to throw it off; I +rushed into the midst of the crowd. Idris saw me: with light step she +advanced; as I folded her in my arms, feeling, as I did, that I thus +enclosed what was to me a world, yet frail as the waterdrop which the +noon-day sun will drink from the water lily’s cup; tears filled my +eyes, unwont to be thus moistened. The joyful welcome of my boys, the +soft gratulation of Clara, the pressure of Adrian’s hand, contributed +to unman me. I felt that they were near, that they were safe, yet +methought this was all deceit;—the earth reeled, the firm-enrooted +trees moved—dizziness came over me—I sank to the ground. + +My beloved friends were alarmed—nay, they expressed their alarm so +anxiously, that I dared not pronounce the word _plague_, that hovered +on my lips, lest they should construe my perturbed looks into a +symptom, and see infection in my languor. I had scarcely recovered, and +with feigned hilarity had brought back smiles into my little circle, +when we saw Ryland approach. + +Ryland had something the appearance of a farmer; of a man whose muscles +and full grown stature had been developed under the influence of +vigorous exercise and exposure to the elements. This was to a great +degree the case: for, though a large landed proprietor, yet, being a +projector, and of an ardent and industrious disposition, he had on his +own estate given himself up to agricultural labours. When he went as +ambassador to the Northern States of America, he, for some time, +planned his entire migration; and went so far as to make several +journies far westward on that immense continent, for the purpose of +choosing the site of his new abode. Ambition turned his thoughts from +these designs—ambition, which labouring through various lets and +hindrances, had now led him to the summit of his hopes, in making him +Lord Protector of England. + +His countenance was rough but intelligent—his ample brow and quick grey +eyes seemed to look out, over his own plans, and the opposition of his +enemies. His voice was stentorian: his hand stretched out in debate, +seemed by its gigantic and muscular form, to warn his hearers that +words were not his only weapons. Few people had discovered some +cowardice and much infirmity of purpose under this imposing exterior. +No man could crush a “butterfly on the wheel” with better effect; no +man better cover a speedy retreat from a powerful adversary. This had +been the secret of his secession at the time of Lord Raymond’s +election. In the unsteady glance of his eye, in his extreme desire to +learn the opinions of all, in the feebleness of his hand-writing, these +qualities might be obscurely traced, but they were not generally known. +He was now our Lord Protector. He had canvassed eagerly for this post. +His protectorate was to be distinguished by every kind of innovation on +the aristocracy. This his selected task was exchanged for the far +different one of encountering the ruin caused by the convulsions of +physical nature. He was incapable of meeting these evils by any +comprehensive system; he had resorted to expedient after expedient, and +could never be induced to put a remedy in force, till it came too late +to be of use. + +Certainly the Ryland that advanced towards us now, bore small +resemblance to the powerful, ironical, seemingly fearless canvasser for +the first rank among Englishmen. Our native oak, as his partisans +called him, was visited truly by a nipping winter. He scarcely appeared +half his usual height; his joints were unknit, his limbs would not +support him; his face was contracted, his eye wandering; debility of +purpose and dastard fear were expressed in every gesture. + +In answer to our eager questions, one word alone fell, as it were +involuntarily, from his convulsed lips: _The Plague_.—“Where?”—“Every +where—we must fly—all fly—but whither? No man can tell—there is no +refuge on earth, it comes on us like a thousand packs of wolves—we must +all fly—where shall you go? Where can any of us go?” + +These words were syllabled trembling by the iron man. Adrian replied, +“Whither indeed would you fly? We must all remain; and do our best to +help our suffering fellow-creatures.” + +“Help!” said Ryland, “there is no help!—great God, who talks of help! +All the world has the plague!” + +“Then to avoid it, we must quit the world,” observed Adrian, with a +gentle smile. + +Ryland groaned; cold drops stood on his brow. It was useless to oppose +his paroxysm of terror: but we soothed and encouraged him, so that +after an interval he was better able to explain to us the ground of his +alarm. It had come sufficiently home to him. One of his servants, while +waiting on him, had suddenly fallen down dead. The physician declared +that he died of the plague. We endeavoured to calm him—but our own +hearts were not calm. I saw the eye of Idris wander from me to her +children, with an anxious appeal to my judgment. Adrian was absorbed in +meditation. For myself, I own that Ryland’s words rang in my ears; all +the world was infected;—in what uncontaminated seclusion could I save +my beloved treasures, until the shadow of death had passed from over +the earth? We sunk into silence: a silence that drank in the doleful +accounts and prognostications of our guest. We had receded from the +crowd; and ascending the steps of the terrace, sought the Castle. Our +change of cheer struck those nearest to us; and, by means of Ryland’s +servants, the report soon spread that he had fled from the plague in +London. The sprightly parties broke up—they assembled in whispering +groups. The spirit of gaiety was eclipsed; the music ceased; the young +people left their occupations and gathered together. The lightness of +heart which had dressed them in masquerade habits, had decorated their +tents, and assembled them in fantastic groups, appeared a sin against, +and a provocative to, the awful destiny that had laid its palsying hand +upon hope and life. The merriment of the hour was an unholy mockery of +the sorrows of man. The foreigners whom we had among us, who had fled +from the plague in their own country, now saw their last asylum +invaded; and, fear making them garrulous, they described to eager +listeners the miseries they had beheld in cities visited by the +calamity, and gave fearful accounts of the insidious and irremediable +nature of the disease. + +We had entered the Castle. Idris stood at a window that over-looked the +park; her maternal eyes sought her own children among the young crowd. +An Italian lad had got an audience about him, and with animated +gestures was describing some scene of horror. Alfred stood immoveable +before him, his whole attention absorbed. Little Evelyn had endeavoured +to draw Clara away to play with him; but the Italian’s tale arrested +her, she crept near, her lustrous eyes fixed on the speaker. Either +watching the crowd in the park, or occupied by painful reflection, we +were all silent; Ryland stood by himself in an embrasure of the window; +Adrian paced the hall, revolving some new and overpowering +idea—suddenly he stopped and said: “I have long expected this; could we +in reason expect that this island should be exempt from the universal +visitation? The evil is come home to us, and we must not shrink from +our fate. What are your plans, my Lord Protector, for the benefit of +our country?” + +“For heaven’s love! Windsor,” cried Ryland, “do not mock me with that +title. Death and disease level all men. I neither pretend to protect +nor govern an hospital—such will England quickly become.” + +“Do you then intend, now in time of peril, to recede from your duties?” + +“Duties! speak rationally, my Lord!—when I am a plague-spotted corpse, +where will my duties be? Every man for himself! the devil take the +protectorship, say I, if it expose me to danger!” + +“Faint-hearted man!” cried Adrian indignantly—“Your countrymen put +their trust in you, and you betray them!” + +“I betray them!” said Ryland, “the plague betrays me. Faint-hearted! It +is well, shut up in your castle, out of danger, to boast yourself out +of fear. Take the Protectorship who will; before God I renounce it!” + +“And before God,” replied his opponent, fervently, “do I receive it! No +one will canvass for this honour now—none envy my danger or labours. +Deposit your powers in my hands. Long have I fought with death, and +much” (he stretched out his thin hand) “much have I suffered in the +struggle. It is not by flying, but by facing the enemy, that we can +conquer. If my last combat is now about to be fought, and I am to be +worsted—so let it be!” + +“But come, Ryland, recollect yourself! Men have hitherto thought you +magnanimous and wise, will you cast aside these titles? Consider the +panic your departure will occasion. Return to London. I will go with +you. Encourage the people by your presence. I will incur all the +danger. Shame! shame! if the first magistrate of England be foremost to +renounce his duties.” + +Meanwhile among our guests in the park, all thoughts of festivity had +faded. As summer-flies are scattered by rain, so did this congregation, +late noisy and happy, in sadness and melancholy murmurs break up, +dwindling away apace. With the set sun and the deepening twilight the +park became nearly empty. Adrian and Ryland were still in earnest +discussion. We had prepared a banquet for our guests in the lower hall +of the castle; and thither Idris and I repaired to receive and +entertain the few that remained. There is nothing more melancholy than +a merry-meeting thus turned to sorrow: the gala dresses—the +decorations, gay as they might otherwise be, receive a solemn and +funereal appearance. If such change be painful from lighter causes, it +weighed with intolerable heaviness from the knowledge that the earth’s +desolator had at last, even as an arch-fiend, lightly over-leaped the +boundaries our precautions raised, and at once enthroned himself in the +full and beating heart of our country. Idris sat at the top of the +half-empty hall. Pale and tearful, she almost forgot her duties as +hostess; her eyes were fixed on her children. Alfred’s serious air +shewed that he still revolved the tragic story related by the Italian +boy. Evelyn was the only mirthful creature present: he sat on Clara’s +lap; and, making matter of glee from his own fancies, laughed aloud. +The vaulted roof echoed again his infant tone. The poor mother who had +brooded long over, and suppressed the expression of her anguish, now +burst into tears, and folding her babe in her arms, hurried from the +hall. Clara and Alfred followed. While the rest of the company, in +confused murmur, which grew louder and louder, gave voice to their many +fears. + +The younger part gathered round me to ask my advice; and those who had +friends in London were anxious beyond the rest, to ascertain the +present extent of disease in the metropolis. I encouraged them with +such thoughts of cheer as presented themselves. I told them exceedingly +few deaths had yet been occasioned by pestilence, and gave them hopes, +as we were the last visited, so the calamity might have lost its most +venomous power before it had reached us. The cleanliness, habits of +order, and the manner in which our cities were built, were all in our +favour. As it was an epidemic, its chief force was derived from +pernicious qualities in the air, and it would probably do little harm +where this was naturally salubrious. At first, I had spoken only to +those nearest me; but the whole assembly gathered about me, and I found +that I was listened to by all. “My friends,” I said, “our risk is +common; our precautions and exertions shall be common also. If manly +courage and resistance can save us, we will be saved. We will fight the +enemy to the last. Plague shall not find us a ready prey; we will +dispute every inch of ground; and, by methodical and inflexible laws, +pile invincible barriers to the progress of our foe. Perhaps in no part +of the world has she met with so systematic and determined an +opposition. Perhaps no country is naturally so well protected against +our invader; nor has nature anywhere been so well assisted by the hand +of man. We will not despair. We are neither cowards nor fatalists; but, +believing that God has placed the means for our preservation in our own +hands, we will use those means to our utmost. Remember that +cleanliness, sobriety, and even good-humour and benevolence, are our +best medicines.” + +There was little I could add to this general exhortation; for the +plague, though in London, was not among us. I dismissed the guests +therefore; and they went thoughtful, more than sad, to await the events +in store for them. + +I now sought Adrian, anxious to hear the result of his discussion with +Ryland. He had in part prevailed; the Lord Protector consented to +return to London for a few weeks; during which time things should be so +arranged, as to occasion less consternation at his departure. Adrian +and Idris were together. The sadness with which the former had first +heard that the plague was in London had vanished; the energy of his +purpose informed his body with strength, the solemn joy of enthusiasm +and self-devotion illuminated his countenance; and the weakness of his +physical nature seemed to pass from him, as the cloud of humanity did, +in the ancient fable, from the divine lover of Semele. He was +endeavouring to encourage his sister, and to bring her to look on his +intent in a less tragic light than she was prepared to do; and with +passionate eloquence he unfolded his designs to her. + +“Let me, at the first word,” he said, “relieve your mind from all fear +on my account. I will not task myself beyond my powers, nor will I +needlessly seek danger. I feel that I know what ought to be done, and +as my presence is necessary for the accomplishment of my plans, I will +take especial care to preserve my life. + +“I am now going to undertake an office fitted for me. I cannot +intrigue, or work a tortuous path through the labyrinth of men’s vices +and passions; but I can bring patience, and sympathy, and such aid as +art affords, to the bed of disease; I can raise from earth the +miserable orphan, and awaken to new hopes the shut heart of the +mourner. I can enchain the plague in limits, and set a term to the +misery it would occasion; courage, forbearance, and watchfulness, are +the forces I bring towards this great work. + +“O, I shall be something now! From my birth I have aspired like the +eagle —but, unlike the eagle, my wings have failed, and my vision has +been blinded. Disappointment and sickness have hitherto held dominion +over me; twin born with me, my _would_, was for ever enchained by the +_shall not_, of these my tyrants. A shepherd-boy that tends a silly +flock on the mountains, was more in the scale of society than I. +Congratulate me then that I have found fitting scope for my powers. I +have often thought of offering my services to the pestilence-stricken +towns of France and Italy; but fear of paining you, and expectation of +this catastrophe, withheld me. To England and to Englishmen I dedicate +myself. If I can save one of her mighty spirits from the deadly shaft; +if I can ward disease from one of her smiling cottages, I shall not +have lived in vain.” + +Strange ambition this! Yet such was Adrian. He appeared given up to +contemplation, averse to excitement, a lowly student, a man of visions— +but afford him worthy theme, and— + +Like to the lark at break of day arising, +From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate.[7] + + +so did he spring up from listlessness and unproductive thought, to the +highest pitch of virtuous action. + +With him went enthusiasm, the high-wrought resolve, the eye that +without blenching could look at death. With us remained sorrow, +anxiety, and unendurable expectation of evil. The man, says Lord Bacon, +who hath wife and children, has given hostages to fortune. Vain was all +philosophical reasoning—vain all fortitude—vain, vain, a reliance on +probable good. I might heap high the scale with logic, courage, and +resignation—but let one fear for Idris and our children enter the +opposite one, and, over-weighed, it kicked the beam. + +The plague was in London! Fools that we were not long ago to have +foreseen this. We wept over the ruin of the boundless continents of the +east, and the desolation of the western world; while we fancied that +the little channel between our island and the rest of the earth was to +preserve us alive among the dead. It were no mighty leap methinks from +Calais to Dover. The eye easily discerns the sister land; they were +united once; and the little path that runs between looks in a map but +as a trodden footway through high grass. Yet this small interval was to +save us: the sea was to rise a wall of adamant—without, disease and +misery—within, a shelter from evil, a nook of the garden of paradise—a +particle of celestial soil, which no evil could invade—truly we were +wise in our generation, to imagine all these things! + +But we are awake now. The plague is in London; the air of England is +tainted, and her sons and daughters strew the unwholesome earth. And +now, the sea, late our defence, seems our prison bound; hemmed in by +its gulphs, we shall die like the famished inhabitants of a besieged +town. Other nations have a fellowship in death; but we, shut out from +all neighbourhood, must bury our own dead, and little England become a +wide, wide tomb. + +This feeling of universal misery assumed concentration and shape, when +I looked on my wife and children; and the thought of danger to them +possessed my whole being with fear. How could I save them? I revolved a +thousand and a thousand plans. They should not die—first I would be +gathered to nothingness, ere infection should come anear these idols of +my soul. I would walk barefoot through the world, to find an uninfected +spot; I would build my home on some wave-tossed plank, drifted about on +the barren, shoreless ocean. I would betake me with them to some wild +beast’s den, where a tyger’s cubs, which I would slay, had been reared +in health. I would seek the mountain eagle’s eirie, and live years +suspended in some inaccessible recess of a sea-bounding cliff—no labour +too great, no scheme too wild, if it promised life to them. O! ye +heart-strings of mine, could ye be torn asunder, and my soul not spend +itself in tears of blood for sorrow! + +Idris, after the first shock, regained a portion of fortitude. She +studiously shut out all prospect of the future, and cradled her heart +in present blessings. She never for a moment lost sight of her +children. But while they in health sported about her, she could cherish +contentment and hope. A strange and wild restlessness came over me—the +more intolerable, because I was forced to conceal it. My fears for +Adrian were ceaseless; August had come; and the symptoms of plague +encreased rapidly in London. It was deserted by all who possessed the +power of removing; and he, the brother of my soul, was exposed to the +perils from which all but slaves enchained by circumstance fled. He +remained to combat the fiend—his side unguarded, his toils +unshared—infection might even reach him, and he die unattended and +alone. By day and night these thoughts pursued me. I resolved to visit +London, to see him; to quiet these agonizing throes by the sweet +medicine of hope, or the opiate of despair. + +It was not until I arrived at Brentford, that I perceived much change +in the face of the country. The better sort of houses were shut up; the +busy trade of the town palsied; there was an air of anxiety among the +few passengers I met, and they looked wonderingly at my carriage—the +first they had seen pass towards London, since pestilence sat on its +high places, and possessed its busy streets. I met several funerals; +they were slenderly attended by mourners, and were regarded by the +spectators as omens of direst import. Some gazed on these processions +with wild eagerness— others fled timidly—some wept aloud. + +Adrian’s chief endeavour, after the immediate succour of the sick, had +been to disguise the symptoms and progress of the plague from the +inhabitants of London. He knew that fear and melancholy forebodings +were powerful assistants to disease; that desponding and brooding care +rendered the physical nature of man peculiarly susceptible of +infection. No unseemly sights were therefore discernible: the shops +were in general open, the concourse of passengers in some degree kept +up. But although the appearance of an infected town was avoided, to me, +who had not beheld it since the commencement of the visitation, London +appeared sufficiently changed. There were no carriages, and grass had +sprung high in the streets; the houses had a desolate look; most of the +shutters were closed; and there was a ghast and frightened stare in the +persons I met, very different from the usual business-like demeanour of +the Londoners. My solitary carriage attracted notice, as it rattled +along towards the Protectoral Palace—and the fashionable streets +leading to it wore a still more dreary and deserted appearance. I found +Adrian’s anti-chamber crowded—it was his hour for giving audience. I +was unwilling to disturb his labours, and waited, watching the ingress +and egress of the petitioners. They consisted of people of the middling +and lower classes of society, whose means of subsistence failed with +the cessation of trade, and of the busy spirit of money-making in all +its branches, peculiar to our country. There was an air of anxiety, +sometimes of terror in the new-comers, strongly contrasted with the +resigned and even satisfied mien of those who had had audience. I could +read the influence of my friend in their quickened motions and cheerful +faces. Two o’clock struck, after which none were admitted; those who +had been disappointed went sullenly or sorrowfully away, while I +entered the audience-chamber. + +I was struck by the improvement that appeared in the health of Adrian. +He was no longer bent to the ground, like an over-nursed flower of +spring, that, shooting up beyond its strength, is weighed down even by +its own coronal of blossoms. His eyes were bright, his countenance +composed, an air of concentrated energy was diffused over his whole +person, much unlike its former languor. He sat at a table with several +secretaries, who were arranging petitions, or registering the notes +made during that day’s audience. Two or three petitioners were still in +attendance. I admired his justice and patience. Those who possessed a +power of living out of London, he advised immediately to quit it, +affording them the means of so doing. Others, whose trade was +beneficial to the city, or who possessed no other refuge, he provided +with advice for better avoiding the epidemic; relieving overloaded +families, supplying the gaps made in others by death. Order, comfort, +and even health, rose under his influence, as from the touch of a +magician’s wand. + +“I am glad you are come,” he said to me, when we were at last alone; “I +can only spare a few minutes, and must tell you much in that time. The +plague is now in progress—it is useless closing one’s eyes to the +fact—the deaths encrease each week. What will come I cannot guess. As +yet, thank God, I am equal to the government of the town; and I look +only to the present. Ryland, whom I have so long detained, has +stipulated that I shall suffer him to depart before the end of this +month. The deputy appointed by parliament is dead; another therefore +must be named; I have advanced my claim, and I believe that I shall +have no competitor. To-night the question is to be decided, as there is +a call of the house for the purpose. You must nominate me, Lionel; +Ryland, for shame, cannot shew himself; but you, my friend, will do me +this service?” + +How lovely is devotion! Here was a youth, royally sprung, bred in +luxury, by nature averse to the usual struggles of a public life, and +now, in time of danger, at a period when to live was the utmost scope +of the ambitious, he, the beloved and heroic Adrian, made, in sweet +simplicity, an offer to sacrifice himself for the public good. The very +idea was generous and noble,—but, beyond this, his unpretending manner, +his entire want of the assumption of a virtue, rendered his act ten +times more touching. I would have withstood his request; but I had seen +the good he diffused; I felt that his resolves were not to be shaken, +so, with an heavy heart, I consented to do as he asked. He grasped my +hand affectionately:—“Thank you,” he said, “you have relieved me from a +painful dilemma, and are, as you ever were, the best of my friends. +Farewell—I must now leave you for a few hours. Go you and converse with +Ryland. Although he deserts his post in London, he may be of the +greatest service in the north of England, by receiving and assisting +travellers, and contributing to supply the metropolis with food. Awaken +him, I entreat you, to some sense of duty.” + +Adrian left me, as I afterwards learnt, upon his daily task of visiting +the hospitals, and inspecting the crowded parts of London. I found +Ryland much altered, even from what he had been when he visited +Windsor. Perpetual fear had jaundiced his complexion, and shrivelled +his whole person. I told him of the business of the evening, and a +smile relaxed the contracted muscles. He desired to go; each day he +expected to be infected by pestilence, each day he was unable to resist +the gentle violence of Adrian’s detention. The moment Adrian should be +legally elected his deputy, he would escape to safety. Under this +impression he listened to all I said; and, elevated almost to joy by +the near prospect of his departure, he entered into a discussion +concerning the plans he should adopt in his own county, forgetting, for +the moment, his cherished resolution of shutting himself up from all +communication in the mansion and grounds of his estate. + +In the evening, Adrian and I proceeded to Westminster. As we went he +reminded me of what I was to say and do, yet, strange to say, I entered +the chamber without having once reflected on my purpose. Adrian +remained in the coffee-room, while I, in compliance with his desire, +took my seat in St. Stephen’s. There reigned unusual silence in the +chamber. I had not visited it since Raymond’s protectorate; a period +conspicuous for a numerous attendance of members, for the eloquence of +the speakers, and the warmth of the debate. The benches were very +empty, those by custom occupied by the hereditary members were vacant; +the city members were there—the members for the commercial towns, few +landed proprietors, and not many of those who entered parliament for +the sake of a career. The first subject that occupied the attention of +the house was an address from the Lord Protector, praying them to +appoint a deputy during a necessary absence on his part. + +A silence prevailed, till one of the members coming to me, whispered +that the Earl of Windsor had sent him word that I was to move his +election, in the absence of the person who had been first chosen for +this office. Now for the first time I saw the full extent of my task, +and I was overwhelmed by what I had brought on myself. Ryland had +deserted his post through fear of the plague: from the same fear Adrian +had no competitor. And I, the nearest kinsman of the Earl of Windsor, +was to propose his election. I was to thrust this selected and +matchless friend into the post of danger— impossible! the die was +cast—I would offer myself as candidate. + +The few members who were present, had come more for the sake of +terminating the business by securing a legal attendance, than under the +idea of a debate. I had risen mechanically—my knees trembled; +irresolution hung on my voice, as I uttered a few words on the +necessity of choosing a person adequate to the dangerous task in hand. +But, when the idea of presenting myself in the room of my friend +intruded, the load of doubt and pain was taken from off me. My words +flowed spontaneously—my utterance was firm and quick. I adverted to +what Adrian had already done—I promised the same vigilance in +furthering all his views. I drew a touching picture of his vacillating +health; I boasted of my own strength. I prayed them to save even from +himself this scion of the noblest family in England. My alliance with +him was the pledge of my sincerity, my union with his sister, my +children, his presumptive heirs, were the hostages of my truth. + +This unexpected turn in the debate was quickly communicated to Adrian. +He hurried in, and witnessed the termination of my impassioned +harangue. I did not see him: my soul was in my words,—my eyes could not +perceive that which was; while a vision of Adrian’s form, tainted by +pestilence, and sinking in death, floated before them. He seized my +hand, as I concluded— “Unkind!” he cried, “you have betrayed me!” then, +springing forwards, with the air of one who had a right to command, he +claimed the place of deputy as his own. He had bought it, he said, with +danger, and paid for it with toil. His ambition rested there; and, +after an interval devoted to the interests of his country, was I to +step in, and reap the profit? Let them remember what London had been +when he arrived: the panic that prevailed brought famine, while every +moral and legal tie was loosened. He had restored order—this had been a +work which required perseverance, patience, and energy; and he had +neither slept nor waked but for the good of his country.—Would they +dare wrong him thus? Would they wrest his hard-earned reward from him, +to bestow it on one, who, never having mingled in public life, would +come a tyro to the craft, in which he was an adept. He demanded the +place of deputy as his right. Ryland had shewn that he preferred him. +Never before had he, who was born even to the inheritance of the throne +of England, never had he asked favour or honour from those now his +equals, but who might have been his subjects. Would they refuse him? +Could they thrust back from the path of distinction and laudable +ambition, the heir of their ancient kings, and heap another +disappointment on a fallen house. + +No one had ever before heard Adrian allude to the rights of his +ancestors. None had ever before suspected, that power, or the suffrage +of the many, could in any manner become dear to him. He had begun his +speech with vehemence; he ended with unassuming gentleness, making his +appeal with the same humility, as if he had asked to be the first in +wealth, honour, and power among Englishmen, and not, as was the truth, +to be the foremost in the ranks of loathsome toils and inevitable +death. A murmur of approbation rose after his speech. “Oh, do not +listen to him,” I cried, “he speaks false—false to himself,”—I was +interrupted: and, silence being restored, we were ordered, as was the +custom, to retire during the decision of the house. I fancied that they +hesitated, and that there was some hope for me—I was mistaken—hardly +had we quitted the chamber, before Adrian was recalled, and installed +in his office of Lord Deputy to the Protector. + +We returned together to the palace. “Why, Lionel,” said Adrian, “what +did you intend? you could not hope to conquer, and yet you gave me the +pain of a triumph over my dearest friend.” + +“This is mockery,” I replied, “you devote yourself,—you, the adored +brother of Idris, the being, of all the world contains, dearest to our +hearts—you devote yourself to an early death. I would have prevented +this; my death would be a small evil—or rather I should not die; while +you cannot hope to escape.” + +“As to the likelihood of escaping,” said Adrian, “ten years hence the +cold stars may shine on the graves of all of us; but as to my peculiar +liability to infection, I could easily prove, both logically and +physically, that in the midst of contagion I have a better chance of +life than you. + +“This is my post: I was born for this—to rule England in anarchy, to +save her in danger—to devote myself for her. The blood of my +forefathers cries aloud in my veins, and bids me be first among my +countrymen. Or, if this mode of speech offend you, let me say, that my +mother, the proud queen, instilled early into me a love of distinction, +and all that, if the weakness of my physical nature and my peculiar +opinions had not prevented such a design, might have made me long since +struggle for the lost inheritance of my race. But now my mother, or, if +you will, my mother’s lessons, awaken within me. I cannot lead on to +battle; I cannot, through intrigue and faithlessness rear again the +throne upon the wreck of English public spirit. But I can be the first +to support and guard my country, now that terrific disasters and ruin +have laid strong hands upon her. + +“That country and my beloved sister are all I have. I will protect the +first—the latter I commit to your charge. If I survive, and she be +lost, I were far better dead. Preserve her—for her own sake I know that +you will—if you require any other spur, think that, in preserving her, +you preserve me. Her faultless nature, one sum of perfections, is wrapt +up in her affections—if they were hurt, she would droop like an +unwatered floweret, and the slightest injury they receive is a nipping +frost to her. Already she fears for us. She fears for the children she +adores, and for you, the father of these, her lover, husband, +protector; and you must be near her to support and encourage her. +Return to Windsor then, my brother; for such you are by every tie—fill +the double place my absence imposes on you, and let me, in all my +sufferings here, turn my eyes towards that dear seclusion, and +say—There is peace.” + + [7] Shakespeare’s Sonnets. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +I did proceed to Windsor, but not with the intention of remaining +there. I went but to obtain the consent of Idris, and then to return +and take my station beside my unequalled friend; to share his labours, +and save him, if so it must be, at the expence of my life. Yet I +dreaded to witness the anguish which my resolve might excite in Idris. +I had vowed to my own heart never to shadow her countenance even with +transient grief, and should I prove recreant at the hour of greatest +need? I had begun my journey with anxious haste; now I desired to draw +it out through the course of days and months. I longed to avoid the +necessity of action; I strove to escape from thought—vainly—futurity, +like a dark image in a phantasmagoria, came nearer and more near, till +it clasped the whole earth in its shadow. + +A slight circumstance induced me to alter my usual route, and to return +home by Egham and Bishopgate. I alighted at Perdita’s ancient abode, +her cottage; and, sending forward the carriage, determined to walk +across the park to the castle. This spot, dedicated to sweetest +recollections, the deserted house and neglected garden were well +adapted to nurse my melancholy. In our happiest days, Perdita had +adorned her cottage with every aid art might bring, to that which +nature had selected to favour. In the same spirit of exaggeration she +had, on the event of her separation from Raymond, caused it to be +entirely neglected. It was now in ruin: the deer had climbed the broken +palings, and reposed among the flowers; grass grew on the threshold, +and the swinging lattice creaking to the wind, gave signal of utter +desertion. The sky was blue above, and the air impregnated with +fragrance by the rare flowers that grew among the weeds. The trees +moved overhead, awakening nature’s favourite melody—but the melancholy +appearance of the choaked paths, and weed-grown flower-beds, dimmed +even this gay summer scene. The time when in proud and happy security +we assembled at this cottage, was gone—soon the present hours would +join those past, and shadows of future ones rose dark and menacing from +the womb of time, their cradle and their bier. For the first time in my +life I envied the sleep of the dead, and thought with pleasure of one’s +bed under the sod, where grief and fear have no power. I passed through +the gap of the broken paling—I felt, while I disdained, the choaking +tears—I rushed into the depths of the forest. O death and change, +rulers of our life, where are ye, that I may grapple with you! What was +there in our tranquillity, that excited your envy—in our happiness, +that ye should destroy it? We were happy, loving, and beloved; the horn +of Amalthea contained no blessing unshowered upon us, but, alas! + + la fortuna +deidad barbara importuna, +oy cadaver y ayer flor, +no permanece jamas![8] + + +As I wandered on thus ruminating, a number of country people passed me. +They seemed full of careful thought, and a few words of their +conversation that reached me, induced me to approach and make further +enquiries. A party of people flying from London, as was frequent in +those days, had come up the Thames in a boat. No one at Windsor would +afford them shelter; so, going a little further up, they remained all +night in a deserted hut near Bolter’s lock. They pursued their way the +following morning, leaving one of their company behind them, sick of +the plague. This circumstance once spread abroad, none dared approach +within half a mile of the infected neighbourhood, and the deserted +wretch was left to fight with disease and death in solitude, as he best +might. I was urged by compassion to hasten to the hut, for the purpose +of ascertaining his situation, and administering to his wants. + +As I advanced I met knots of country-people talking earnestly of this +event: distant as they were from the apprehended contagion, fear was +impressed on every countenance. I passed by a group of these +terrorists, in a lane in the direct road to the hut. One of them +stopped me, and, conjecturing that I was ignorant of the circumstance, +told me not to go on, for that an infected person lay but at a short +distance. + +“I know it,” I replied, “and I am going to see in what condition the +poor fellow is.” + +A murmur of surprise and horror ran through the assembly. I +continued:—“This poor wretch is deserted, dying, succourless; in these +unhappy times, God knows how soon any or all of us may be in like want. +I am going to do, as I would be done by.” + +“But you will never be able to return to the Castle—Lady Idris—his +children—” in confused speech were the words that struck my ear. + +“Do you not know, my friends,” I said, “that the Earl himself, now Lord +Protector, visits daily, not only those probably infected by this +disease, but the hospitals and pest houses, going near, and even +touching the sick? yet he was never in better health. You labour under +an entire mistake as to the nature of the plague; but do not fear, I do +not ask any of you to accompany me, nor to believe me, until I return +safe and sound from my patient.” + +So I left them, and hurried on. I soon arrived at the hut: the door was +ajar. I entered, and one glance assured me that its former inhabitant +was no more—he lay on a heap of straw, cold and stiff; while a +pernicious effluvia filled the room, and various stains and marks +served to shew the virulence of the disorder. + +I had never before beheld one killed by pestilence. While every mind +was full of dismay at its effects, a craving for excitement had led us +to peruse De Foe’s account, and the masterly delineations of the author +of Arthur Mervyn. The pictures drawn in these books were so vivid, that +we seemed to have experienced the results depicted by them. But cold +were the sensations excited by words, burning though they were, and +describing the death and misery of thousands, compared to what I felt +in looking on the corpse of this unhappy stranger. This indeed was the +plague. I raised his rigid limbs, I marked the distortion of his face, +and the stony eyes lost to perception. As I was thus occupied, chill +horror congealed my blood, making my flesh quiver and my hair to stand +on end. Half insanely I spoke to the dead. So the plague killed you, I +muttered. How came this? Was the coming painful? You look as if the +enemy had tortured, before he murdered you. And now I leapt up +precipitately, and escaped from the hut, before nature could revoke her +laws, and inorganic words be breathed in answer from the lips of the +departed. + +On returning through the lane, I saw at a distance the same assemblage +of persons which I had left. They hurried away, as soon as they saw me; +my agitated mien added to their fear of coming near one who had entered +within the verge of contagion. + +At a distance from facts one draws conclusions which appear infallible, +which yet when put to the test of reality, vanish like unreal dreams. I +had ridiculed the fears of my countrymen, when they related to others; +now that they came home to myself, I paused. The Rubicon, I felt, was +passed; and it behoved me well to reflect what I should do on this +hither side of disease and danger. According to the vulgar +superstition, my dress, my person, the air I breathed, bore in it +mortal danger to myself and others. Should I return to the Castle, to +my wife and children, with this taint upon me? Not surely if I were +infected; but I felt certain that I was not—a few hours would determine +the question—I would spend these in the forest, in reflection on what +was to come, and what my future actions were to be. In the feeling +communicated to me by the sight of one struck by the plague, I forgot +the events that had excited me so strongly in London; new and more +painful prospects, by degrees were cleared of the mist which had +hitherto veiled them. The question was no longer whether I should share +Adrian’s toils and danger; but in what manner I could, in Windsor and +the neighbourhood, imitate the prudence and zeal which, under his +government, produced order and plenty in London, and how, now +pestilence had spread more widely, I could secure the health of my own +family. + +I spread the whole earth out as a map before me. On no one spot of its +surface could I put my finger and say, here is safety. In the south, +the disease, virulent and immedicable, had nearly annihilated the race +of man; storm and inundation, poisonous winds and blights, filled up +the measure of suffering. In the north it was worse—the lesser +population gradually declined, and famine and plague kept watch on the +survivors, who, helpless and feeble, were ready to fall an easy prey +into their hands. + +I contracted my view to England. The overgrown metropolis, the great +heart of mighty Britain, was pulseless. Commerce had ceased. All resort +for ambition or pleasure was cut off—the streets were grass-grown—the +houses empty—the few, that from necessity remained, seemed already +branded with the taint of inevitable pestilence. In the larger +manufacturing towns the same tragedy was acted on a smaller, yet more +disastrous scale. There was no Adrian to superintend and direct, while +whole flocks of the poor were struck and killed. Yet we were not all to +die. No truly, though thinned, the race of man would continue, and the +great plague would, in after years, become matter of history and +wonder. Doubtless this visitation was for extent unexampled—more need +that we should work hard to dispute its progress; ere this men have +gone out in sport, and slain their thousands and tens of thousands; but +now man had become a creature of price; the life of one of them was of +more worth than the so called treasures of kings. Look at his +thought-endued countenance, his graceful limbs, his majestic brow, his +wondrous mechanism—the type and model of this best work of God is not +to be cast aside as a broken vessel—he shall be preserved, and his +children and his children’s children carry down the name and form of +man to latest time. + +Above all I must guard those entrusted by nature and fate to my +especial care. And surely, if among all my fellow-creatures I were to +select those who might stand forth examples of the greatness and +goodness of man, I could choose no other than those allied to me by the +most sacred ties. Some from among the family of man must survive, and +these should be among the survivors; that should be my task—to +accomplish it my own life were a small sacrifice. There then in that +castle—in Windsor Castle, birth-place of Idris and my babes, should be +the haven and retreat for the wrecked bark of human society. Its forest +should be our world—its garden afford us food; within its walls I would +establish the shaken throne of health. I was an outcast and a vagabond, +when Adrian gently threw over me the silver net of love and +civilization, and linked me inextricably to human charities and human +excellence. I was one, who, though an aspirant after good, and an +ardent lover of wisdom, was yet unenrolled in any list of worth, when +Idris, the princely born, who was herself the personification of all +that was divine in woman, she who walked the earth like a poet’s dream, +as a carved goddess endued with sense, or pictured saint stepping from +the canvas—she, the most worthy, chose me, and gave me herself—a +priceless gift. + +During several hours I continued thus to meditate, till hunger and +fatigue brought me back to the passing hour, then marked by long +shadows cast from the descending sun. I had wandered towards Bracknel, +far to the west of Windsor. The feeling of perfect health which I +enjoyed, assured me that I was free from contagion. I remembered that +Idris had been kept in ignorance of my proceedings. She might have +heard of my return from London, and my visit to Bolter’s Lock, which, +connected with my continued absence, might tend greatly to alarm her. I +returned to Windsor by the Long Walk, and passing through the town +towards the Castle, I found it in a state of agitation and disturbance. + +“It is too late to be ambitious,” says Sir Thomas Browne. “We cannot +hope to live so long in our names as some have done in their persons; +one face of Janus holds no proportion to the other.” Upon this text +many fanatics arose, who prophesied that the end of time was come. The +spirit of superstition had birth, from the wreck of our hopes, and +antics wild and dangerous were played on the great theatre, while the +remaining particle of futurity dwindled into a point in the eyes of the +prognosticators. Weak-spirited women died of fear as they listened to +their denunciations; men of robust form and seeming strength fell into +idiotcy and madness, racked by the dread of coming eternity. A man of +this kind was now pouring forth his eloquent despair among the +inhabitants of Windsor. The scene of the morning, and my visit to the +dead, which had been spread abroad, had alarmed the country-people, so +they had become fit instruments to be played upon by a maniac. + +The poor wretch had lost his young wife and lovely infant by the +plague. He was a mechanic; and, rendered unable to attend to the +occupation which supplied his necessities, famine was added to his +other miseries. He left the chamber which contained his wife and +child—wife and child no more, but “dead earth upon the earth”—wild with +hunger, watching and grief, his diseased fancy made him believe himself +sent by heaven to preach the end of time to the world. He entered the +churches, and foretold to the congregations their speedy removal to the +vaults below. He appeared like the forgotten spirit of the time in the +theatres, and bade the spectators go home and die. He had been seized +and confined; he had escaped and wandered from London among the +neighbouring towns, and, with frantic gestures and thrilling words, he +unveiled to each their hidden fears, and gave voice to the soundless +thought they dared not syllable. He stood under the arcade of the +town-hall of Windsor, and from this elevation harangued a trembling +crowd. + +“Hear, O ye inhabitants of the earth,” he cried, “hear thou, all +seeing, but most pitiless Heaven! hear thou too, O tempest-tossed +heart, which breathes out these words, yet faints beneath their +meaning! Death is among us! The earth is beautiful and flower-bedecked, +but she is our grave! The clouds of heaven weep for us—the pageantry of +the stars is but our funeral torchlight. Grey headed men, ye hoped for +yet a few years in your long-known abode—but the lease is up, you must +remove—children, ye will never reach maturity, even now the small grave +is dug for ye— mothers, clasp them in your arms, one death embraces +you!” + +Shuddering, he stretched out his hands, his eyes cast up, seemed +bursting from their sockets, while he appeared to follow shapes, to us +invisible, in the yielding air—“There they are,” he cried, “the dead! +They rise in their shrouds, and pass in silent procession towards the +far land of their doom—their bloodless lips move not—their shadowy +limbs are void of motion, while still they glide onwards. We come,” he +exclaimed, springing forwards, “for what should we wait? Haste, my +friends, apparel yourselves in the court-dress of death. Pestilence +will usher you to his presence. Why thus long? they, the good, the +wise, and the beloved, are gone before. Mothers, kiss you +last—husbands, protectors no more, lead on the partners of your death! +Come, O come! while the dear ones are yet in sight, for soon they will +pass away, and we never never shall join them more.” + +From such ravings as these, he would suddenly become collected, and +with unexaggerated but terrific words, paint the horrors of the time; +describe with minute detail, the effects of the plague on the human +frame, and tell heart-breaking tales of the snapping of dear +affinities—the gasping horror of despair over the death-bed of the last +beloved—so that groans and even shrieks burst from the crowd. One man +in particular stood in front, his eyes fixt on the prophet, his mouth +open, his limbs rigid, while his face changed to various colours, +yellow, blue, and green, through intense fear. The maniac caught his +glance, and turned his eye on him— one has heard of the gaze of the +rattle-snake, which allures the trembling victim till he falls within +his jaws. The maniac became composed; his person rose higher; authority +beamed from his countenance. He looked on the peasant, who began to +tremble, while he still gazed; his knees knocked together; his teeth +chattered. He at last fell down in convulsions. “That man has the +plague,” said the maniac calmly. A shriek burst from the lips of the +poor wretch; and then sudden motionlessness came over him; it was +manifest to all that he was dead. + +Cries of horror filled the place—every one endeavoured to effect his +escape—in a few minutes the market place was cleared—the corpse lay on +the ground; and the maniac, subdued and exhausted, sat beside it, +leaning his gaunt cheek upon his thin hand. Soon some people, deputed +by the magistrates, came to remove the body; the unfortunate being saw +a jailor in each—he fled precipitately, while I passed onwards to the +Castle. + +Death, cruel and relentless, had entered these beloved walls. An old +servant, who had nursed Idris in infancy, and who lived with us more on +the footing of a revered relative than a domestic, had gone a few days +before to visit a daughter, married, and settled in the neighbourhood +of London. On the night of her return she sickened of the plague. From +the haughty and unbending nature of the Countess of Windsor, Idris had +few tender filial associations with her. This good woman had stood in +the place of a mother, and her very deficiencies of education and +knowledge, by rendering her humble and defenceless, endeared her to +us—she was the especial favourite of the children. I found my poor +girl, there is no exaggeration in the expression, wild with grief and +dread. She hung over the patient in agony, which was not mitigated when +her thoughts wandered towards her babes, for whom she feared infection. +My arrival was like the newly discovered lamp of a lighthouse to +sailors, who are weathering some dangerous point. She deposited her +appalling doubts in my hands; she relied on my judgment, and was +comforted by my participation in her sorrow. Soon our poor nurse +expired; and the anguish of suspense was changed to deep regret, which +though at first more painful, yet yielded with greater readiness to my +consolations. Sleep, the sovereign balm, at length steeped her tearful +eyes in forgetfulness. + +She slept; and quiet prevailed in the Castle, whose inhabitants were +hushed to repose. I was awake, and during the long hours of dead night, +my busy thoughts worked in my brain, like ten thousand mill-wheels, +rapid, acute, untameable. All slept—all England slept; and from my +window, commanding a wide prospect of the star-illumined country, I saw +the land stretched out in placid rest. I was awake, alive, while the +brother of death possessed my race. What, if the more potent of these +fraternal deities should obtain dominion over it? The silence of +midnight, to speak truly, though apparently a paradox, rung in my ears. +The solitude became intolerable—I placed my hand on the beating heart +of Idris, I bent my head to catch the sound of her breath, to assure +myself that she still existed—for a moment I doubted whether I should +not awake her; so effeminate an horror ran through my frame.—Great God! +would it one day be thus? One day all extinct, save myself, should I +walk the earth alone? Were these warning voices, whose inarticulate and +oracular sense forced belief upon me? + +Yet I would not call _them_ +Voices of warning, that announce to us +Only the inevitable. As the sun, +Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image +In the atmosphere—so often do the spirits +Of great events stride on before the events, +And in to-day already walks to-morrow.[9] + + + [8] Calderon de la Barca. + + + [9] Coleridge’s Translation of Schiller’s Wallenstein. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +After a long interval, I am again impelled by the restless spirit +within me to continue my narration; but I must alter the mode which I +have hitherto adopted. The details contained in the foregoing pages, +apparently trivial, yet each slightest one weighing like lead in the +depressed scale of human afflictions; this tedious dwelling on the +sorrows of others, while my own were only in apprehension; this slowly +laying bare of my soul’s wounds: this journal of death; this long drawn +and tortuous path, leading to the ocean of countless tears, awakens me +again to keen grief. I had used this history as an opiate; while it +described my beloved friends, fresh with life and glowing with hope, +active assistants on the scene, I was soothed; there will be a more +melancholy pleasure in painting the end of all. But the intermediate +steps, the climbing the wall, raised up between what was and is, while +I still looked back nor saw the concealed desert beyond, is a labour +past my strength. Time and experience have placed me on an height from +which I can comprehend the past as a whole; and in this way I must +describe it, bringing forward the leading incidents, and disposing +light and shade so as to form a picture in whose very darkness there +will be harmony. + +It would be needless to narrate those disastrous occurrences, for which +a parallel might be found in any slighter visitation of our gigantic +calamity. Does the reader wish to hear of the pest-houses, where death +is the comforter—of the mournful passage of the death-cart—of the +insensibility of the worthless, and the anguish of the loving heart—of +harrowing shrieks and silence dire—of the variety of disease, +desertion, famine, despair, and death? There are many books which can +feed the appetite craving for these things; let them turn to the +accounts of Boccaccio, De Foe, and Browne. The vast annihilation that +has swallowed all things—the voiceless solitude of the once busy +earth—the lonely state of singleness which hems me in, has deprived +even such details of their stinging reality, and mellowing the lurid +tints of past anguish with poetic hues, I am able to escape from the +mosaic of circumstance, by perceiving and reflecting back the grouping +and combined colouring of the past. + +I had returned from London possessed by the idea, with the intimate +feeling that it was my first duty to secure, as well as I was able, the +well-being of my family, and then to return and take my post beside +Adrian. The events that immediately followed on my arrival at Windsor +changed this view of things. The plague was not in London alone, it was +every where—it came on us, as Ryland had said, like a thousand packs of +wolves, howling through the winter night, gaunt and fierce. When once +disease was introduced into the rural districts, its effects appeared +more horrible, more exigent, and more difficult to cure, than in towns. +There was a companionship in suffering there, and, the neighbours +keeping constant watch on each other, and inspired by the active +benevolence of Adrian, succour was afforded, and the path of +destruction smoothed. But in the country, among the scattered +farm-houses, in lone cottages, in fields, and barns, tragedies were +acted harrowing to the soul, unseen, unheard, unnoticed. Medical aid +was less easily procured, food was more difficult to obtain, and human +beings, unwithheld by shame, for they were unbeheld of their fellows, +ventured on deeds of greater wickedness, or gave way more readily to +their abject fears. + +Deeds of heroism also occurred, whose very mention swells the heart and +brings tears into the eyes. Such is human nature, that beauty and +deformity are often closely linked. In reading history we are chiefly +struck by the generosity and self-devotion that follow close on the +heels of crime, veiling with supernal flowers the stain of blood. Such +acts were not wanting to adorn the grim train that waited on the +progress of the plague. + +The inhabitants of Berkshire and Bucks had been long aware that the +plague was in London, in Liverpool, Bristol, Manchester, York, in +short, in all the more populous towns of England. They were not however +the less astonished and dismayed when it appeared among themselves. +They were impatient and angry in the midst of terror. They would do +something to throw off the clinging evil, and, while in action, they +fancied that a remedy was applied. The inhabitants of the smaller towns +left their houses, pitched tents in the fields, wandering separate from +each other careless of hunger or the sky’s inclemency, while they +imagined that they avoided the death-dealing disease. The farmers and +cottagers, on the contrary, struck with the fear of solitude, and madly +desirous of medical assistance, flocked into the towns. + +But winter was coming, and with winter, hope. In August, the plague had +appeared in the country of England, and during September it made its +ravages. Towards the end of October it dwindled away, and was in some +degree replaced by a typhus, of hardly less virulence. The autumn was +warm and rainy: the infirm and sickly died off—happier they: many young +people flushed with health and prosperity, made pale by wasting malady, +became the inhabitants of the grave. The crop had failed, the bad corn, +and want of foreign wines, added vigour to disease. Before Christmas +half England was under water. The storms of the last winter were +renewed; but the diminished shipping of this year caused us to feel +less the tempests of the sea. The flood and storms did more harm to +continental Europe than to us—giving, as it were, the last blow to the +calamities which destroyed it. In Italy the rivers were unwatched by +the diminished peasantry; and, like wild beasts from their lair when +the hunters and dogs are afar, did Tiber, Arno, and Po, rush upon and +destroy the fertility of the plains. Whole villages were carried away. +Rome, and Florence, and Pisa were overflowed, and their marble palaces, +late mirrored in tranquil streams, had their foundations shaken by +their winter-gifted power. In Germany and Russia the injury was still +more momentous. + +But frost would come at last, and with it a renewal of our lease of +earth. Frost would blunt the arrows of pestilence, and enchain the +furious elements; and the land would in spring throw off her garment of +snow, released from her menace of destruction. It was not until +February that the desired signs of winter appeared. For three days the +snow fell, ice stopped the current of the rivers, and the birds flew +out from crackling branches of the frost-whitened trees. On the fourth +morning all vanished. A south-west wind brought up rain—the sun came +out, and mocking the usual laws of nature, seemed even at this early +season to burn with solsticial force. It was no consolation, that with +the first winds of March the lanes were filled with violets, the fruit +trees covered with blossoms, that the corn sprung up, and the leaves +came out, forced by the unseasonable heat. We feared the balmy air—we +feared the cloudless sky, the flower-covered earth, and delightful +woods, for we looked on the fabric of the universe no longer as our +dwelling, but our tomb, and the fragrant land smelled to the +apprehension of fear like a wide church-yard. + +Pisando la tierra dura +de continuo el hombre està +y cada passo que dà +es sobre su sepultura.[10] + + +Yet notwithstanding these disadvantages winter was breathing time; and +we exerted ourselves to make the best of it. Plague might not revive +with the summer; but if it did, it should find us prepared. It is a +part of man’s nature to adapt itself through habit even to pain and +sorrow. Pestilence had become a part of our future, our existence; it +was to be guarded against, like the flooding of rivers, the +encroachments of ocean, or the inclemency of the sky. After long +suffering and bitter experience, some panacea might be discovered; as +it was, all that received infection died— all however were not +infected; and it became our part to fix deep the foundations, and raise +high the barrier between contagion and the sane; to introduce such +order as would conduce to the well-being of the survivors, and as would +preserve hope and some portion of happiness to those who were +spectators of the still renewed tragedy. Adrian had introduced +systematic modes of proceeding in the metropolis, which, while they +were unable to stop the progress of death, yet prevented other evils, +vice and folly, from rendering the awful fate of the hour still more +tremendous. I wished to imitate his example, but men are used to + +—move all together, if they move at all,[11] + + +and I could find no means of leading the inhabitants of scattered towns +and villages, who forgot my words as soon as they heard them not, and +veered with every baffling wind, that might arise from an apparent +change of circumstance. + +I adopted another plan. Those writers who have imagined a reign of +peace and happiness on earth, have generally described a rural country, +where each small township was directed by the elders and wise men. This +was the key of my design. Each village, however small, usually contains +a leader, one among themselves whom they venerate, whose advice they +seek in difficulty, and whose good opinion they chiefly value. I was +immediately drawn to make this observation by occurrences that +presented themselves to my personal experience. + +In the village of Little Marlow an old woman ruled the community. She +had lived for some years in an alms-house, and on fine Sundays her +threshold was constantly beset by a crowd, seeking her advice and +listening to her admonitions. She had been a soldier’s wife, and had +seen the world; infirmity, induced by fevers caught in unwholesome +quarters, had come on her before its time, and she seldom moved from +her little cot. The plague entered the village; and, while fright and +grief deprived the inhabitants of the little wisdom they possessed, old +Martha stepped forward and said— “Before now I have been in a town +where there was the plague.”—“And you escaped?”—“No, but I +recovered.”—After this Martha was seated more firmly than ever on the +regal seat, elevated by reverence and love. She entered the cottages of +the sick; she relieved their wants with her own hand; she betrayed no +fear, and inspired all who saw her with some portion of her own native +courage. She attended the markets—she insisted upon being supplied with +food for those who were too poor to purchase it. She shewed them how +the well-being of each included the prosperity of all. She would not +permit the gardens to be neglected, nor the very flowers in the cottage +lattices to droop from want of care. Hope, she said, was better than a +doctor’s prescription, and every thing that could sustain and enliven +the spirits, of more worth than drugs and mixtures. + +It was the sight of Little Marlow, and my conversations with Martha, +that led me to the plan I formed. I had before visited the manor houses +and gentlemen’s seats, and often found the inhabitants actuated by the +purest benevolence, ready to lend their utmost aid for the welfare of +their tenants. But this was not enough. The intimate sympathy generated +by similar hopes and fears, similar experience and pursuits, was +wanting here. The poor perceived that the rich possessed other means of +preservation than those which could be partaken of by themselves, +seclusion, and, as far as circumstances permitted, freedom from care. +They could not place reliance on them, but turned with tenfold +dependence to the succour and advice of their equals. I resolved +therefore to go from village to village, seeking out the rustic archon +of the place, and by systematizing their exertions, and enlightening +their views, encrease both their power and their use among their +fellow-cottagers. Many changes also now occurred in these spontaneous +regal elections: depositions and abdications were frequent, while, in +the place of the old and prudent, the ardent youth would step forward, +eager for action, regardless of danger. Often too, the voice to which +all listened was suddenly silenced, the helping hand cold, the +sympathetic eye closed, and the villagers feared still more the death +that had selected a choice victim, shivering in dust the heart that had +beat for them, reducing to incommunicable annihilation the mind for +ever occupied with projects for their welfare. + +Whoever labours for man must often find ingratitude, watered by vice +and folly, spring from the grain which he has sown. Death, which had in +our younger days walked the earth like “a thief that comes in the +night,” now, rising from his subterranean vault, girt with power, with +dark banner floating, came a conqueror. Many saw, seated above his +vice-regal throne, a supreme Providence, who directed his shafts, and +guided his progress, and they bowed their heads in resignation, or at +least in obedience. Others perceived only a passing casualty; they +endeavoured to exchange terror for heedlessness, and plunged into +licentiousness, to avoid the agonizing throes of worst apprehension. +Thus, while the wise, the good, and the prudent were occupied by the +labours of benevolence, the truce of winter produced other effects +among the young, the thoughtless, and the vicious. During the colder +months there was a general rush to London in search of amusement—the +ties of public opinion were loosened; many were rich, heretofore +poor—many had lost father and mother, the guardians of their morals, +their mentors and restraints. It would have been useless to have +opposed these impulses by barriers, which would only have driven those +actuated by them to more pernicious indulgencies. The theatres were +open and thronged; dance and midnight festival were frequented—in many +of these decorum was violated, and the evils, which hitherto adhered to +an advanced state of civilization, were doubled. The student left his +books, the artist his study: the occupations of life were gone, but the +amusements remained; enjoyment might be protracted to the verge of the +grave. All factitious colouring disappeared—death rose like night, and, +protected by its murky shadows the blush of modesty, the reserve of +pride, the decorum of prudery were frequently thrown aside as useless +veils. This was not universal. Among better natures, anguish and dread, +the fear of eternal separation, and the awful wonder produced by +unprecedented calamity, drew closer the ties of kindred and friendship. +Philosophers opposed their principles, as barriers to the inundation of +profligacy or despair, and the only ramparts to protect the invaded +territory of human life; the religious, hoping now for their reward, +clung fast to their creeds, as the rafts and planks which over the +tempest-vexed sea of suffering, would bear them in safety to the +harbour of the Unknown Continent. The loving heart, obliged to contract +its view, bestowed its overflow of affection in triple portion on the +few that remained. Yet, even among these, the present, as an +unalienable possession, became all of time to which they dared commit +the precious freight of their hopes. + +The experience of immemorial time had taught us formerly to count our +enjoyments by years, and extend our prospect of life through a +lengthened period of progression and decay; the long road threaded a +vast labyrinth, and the Valley of the Shadow of Death, in which it +terminated, was hid by intervening objects. But an earthquake had +changed the scene—under our very feet the earth yawned—deep and +precipitous the gulph below opened to receive us, while the hours +charioted us towards the chasm. But it was winter now, and months must +elapse before we are hurled from our security. We became ephemera, to +whom the interval between the rising and setting sun was as a long +drawn year of common time. We should never see our children ripen into +maturity, nor behold their downy cheeks roughen, their blithe hearts +subdued by passion or care; but we had them now—they lived, and we +lived—what more could we desire? With such schooling did my poor Idris +try to hush thronging fears, and in some measure succeeded. It was not +as in summer-time, when each hour might bring the dreaded fate—until +summer, we felt sure; and this certainty, short lived as it must be, +yet for awhile satisfied her maternal tenderness. I know not how to +express or communicate the sense of concentrated, intense, though +evanescent transport, that imparadized us in the present hour. Our joys +were dearer because we saw their end; they were keener because we felt, +to its fullest extent, their value; they were purer because their +essence was sympathy— as a meteor is brighter than a star, did the +felicity of this winter contain in itself the extracted delights of a +long, long life. + +How lovely is spring! As we looked from Windsor Terrace on the sixteen +fertile counties spread beneath, speckled by happy cottages and +wealthier towns, all looked as in former years, heart-cheering and +fair. The land was ploughed, the slender blades of wheat broke through +the dark soil, the fruit trees were covered with buds, the husbandman +was abroad in the fields, the milk-maid tripped home with well-filled +pails, the swallows and martins struck the sunny pools with their long, +pointed wings, the new dropped lambs reposed on the young grass, the +tender growth of leaves— + +Lifts its sweet head into the air, and feeds +A silent space with ever sprouting green.[12] + + +Man himself seemed to regenerate, and feel the frost of winter yield to +an elastic and warm renewal of life—reason told us that care and sorrow +would grow with the opening year—but how to believe the ominous voice +breathed up with pestiferous vapours from fear’s dim cavern, while +nature, laughing and scattering from her green lap flowers, and fruits, +and sparkling waters, invited us to join the gay masque of young life +she led upon the scene? + +Where was the plague? “Here—every where!” one voice of horror and +dismay exclaimed, when in the pleasant days of a sunny May the +Destroyer of man brooded again over the earth, forcing the spirit to +leave its organic chrysalis, and to enter upon an untried life. With +one mighty sweep of its potent weapon, all caution, all care, all +prudence were levelled low: death sat at the tables of the great, +stretched itself on the cottager’s pallet, seized the dastard who fled, +quelled the brave man who resisted: despondency entered every heart, +sorrow dimmed every eye. + +Sights of woe now became familiar to me, and were I to tell all of +anguish and pain that I witnessed, of the despairing moans of age, and +the more terrible smiles of infancy in the bosom of horror, my reader, +his limbs quivering and his hair on end, would wonder how I did not, +seized with sudden frenzy, dash myself from some precipice, and so +close my eyes for ever on the sad end of the world. But the powers of +love, poetry, and creative fancy will dwell even beside the sick of the +plague, with the squalid, and with the dying. A feeling of devotion, of +duty, of a high and steady purpose, elevated me; a strange joy filled +my heart. In the midst of saddest grief I seemed to tread air, while +the spirit of good shed round me an ambrosial atmosphere, which blunted +the sting of sympathy, and purified the air of sighs. If my wearied +soul flagged in its career, I thought of my loved home, of the casket +that contained my treasures, of the kiss of love and the filial caress, +while my eyes were moistened by purest dew, and my heart was at once +softened and refreshed by thrilling tenderness. + +Maternal affection had not rendered Idris selfish; at the beginning of +our calamity she had, with thoughtless enthusiasm, devoted herself to +the care of the sick and helpless. I checked her; and she submitted to +my rule. I told her how the fear of her danger palsied my exertions, +how the knowledge of her safety strung my nerves to endurance. I shewed +her the dangers which her children incurred during her absence; and she +at length agreed not to go beyond the inclosure of the forest. Indeed, +within the walls of the Castle we had a colony of the unhappy, deserted +by their relatives, and in themselves helpless, sufficient to occupy +her time and attention, while ceaseless anxiety for my welfare and the +health of her children, however she strove to curb or conceal it, +absorbed all her thoughts, and undermined the vital principle. After +watching over and providing for their safety, her second care was to +hide from me her anguish and tears. Each night I returned to the +Castle, and found there repose and love awaiting me. Often I waited +beside the bed of death till midnight, and through the obscurity of +rainy, cloudy nights rode many miles, sustained by one circumstance +only, the safety and sheltered repose of those I loved. If some scene +of tremendous agony shook my frame and fevered my brow, I would lay my +head on the lap of Idris, and the tumultuous pulses subsided into a +temperate flow —her smile could raise me from hopelessness, her embrace +bathe my sorrowing heart in calm peace. Summer advanced, and, crowned +with the sun’s potent rays, plague shot her unerring shafts over the +earth. The nations beneath their influence bowed their heads, and died. +The corn that sprung up in plenty, lay in autumn rotting on the ground, +while the melancholy wretch who had gone out to gather bread for his +children, lay stiff and plague-struck in the furrow. The green woods +waved their boughs majestically, while the dying were spread beneath +their shade, answering the solemn melody with inharmonious cries. The +painted birds flitted through the shades; the careless deer reposed +unhurt upon the fern—the oxen and the horses strayed from their +unguarded stables, and grazed among the wheat, for death fell on man +alone. + +With summer and mortality grew our fears. My poor love and I looked at +each other, and our babes.—“We will save them, Idris,” I said, “I will +save them. Years hence we shall recount to them our fears, then passed +away with their occasion. Though they only should remain on the earth, +still they shall live, nor shall their cheeks become pale nor their +sweet voices languish.” Our eldest in some degree understood the scenes +passing around, and at times, he with serious looks questioned me +concerning the reason of so vast a desolation. But he was only ten +years old; and the hilarity of youth soon chased unreasonable care from +his brow. Evelyn, a laughing cherub, a gamesome infant, without idea of +pain or sorrow, would, shaking back his light curls from his eyes, make +the halls re-echo with his merriment, and in a thousand artless ways +attract our attention to his play. Clara, our lovely gentle Clara, was +our stay, our solace, our delight. She made it her task to attend the +sick, comfort the sorrowing, assist the aged, and partake the sports +and awaken the gaiety of the young. She flitted through the rooms, like +a good spirit, dispatched from the celestial kingdom, to illumine our +dark hour with alien splendour. Gratitude and praise marked where her +footsteps had been. Yet, when she stood in unassuming simplicity before +us, playing with our children, or with girlish assiduity performing +little kind offices for Idris, one wondered in what fair lineament of +her pure loveliness, in what soft tone of her thrilling voice, so much +of heroism, sagacity and active goodness resided. + +The summer passed tediously, for we trusted that winter would at least +check the disease. That it would vanish altogether was an hope too +dear— too heartfelt, to be expressed. When such a thought was +heedlessly uttered, the hearers, with a gush of tears and passionate +sobs, bore witness how deep their fears were, how small their hopes. +For my own part, my exertions for the public good permitted me to +observe more closely than most others, the virulence and extensive +ravages of our sightless enemy. A short month has destroyed a village, +and where in May the first person sickened, in June the paths were +deformed by unburied corpses—the houses tenantless, no smoke arising +from the chimneys; and the housewife’s clock marked only the hour when +death had been triumphant. From such scenes I have sometimes saved a +deserted infant—sometimes led a young and grieving mother from the +lifeless image of her first born, or drawn the sturdy labourer from +childish weeping over his extinct family. + +July is gone. August must pass, and by the middle of September we may +hope. Each day was eagerly counted; and the inhabitants of towns, +desirous to leap this dangerous interval, plunged into dissipation, and +strove, by riot, and what they wished to imagine to be pleasure, to +banish thought and opiate despair. None but Adrian could have tamed the +motley population of London, which, like a troop of unbitted steeds +rushing to their pastures, had thrown aside all minor fears, through +the operation of the fear paramount. Even Adrian was obliged in part to +yield, that he might be able, if not to guide, at least to set bounds +to the license of the times. The theatres were kept open; every place +of public resort was frequented; though he endeavoured so to modify +them, as might best quiet the agitation of the spectators, and at the +same time prevent a reaction of misery when the excitement was over. +Tragedies deep and dire were the chief favourites. Comedy brought with +it too great a contrast to the inner despair: when such were attempted, +it was not unfrequent for a comedian, in the midst of the laughter +occasioned by his disporportioned buffoonery, to find a word or thought +in his part that jarred with his own sense of wretchedness, and burst +from mimic merriment into sobs and tears, while the spectators, seized +with irresistible sympathy, wept, and the pantomimic revelry was +changed to a real exhibition of tragic passion. + +It was not in my nature to derive consolation from such scenes; from +theatres, whose buffoon laughter and discordant mirth awakened +distempered sympathy, or where fictitious tears and wailings mocked the +heart-felt grief within; from festival or crowded meeting, where +hilarity sprung from the worst feelings of our nature, or such +enthralment of the better ones, as impressed it with garish and false +varnish; from assemblies of mourners in the guise of revellers. Once +however I witnessed a scene of singular interest at one of the +theatres, where nature overpowered art, as an overflowing cataract will +tear away the puny manufacture of a mock cascade, which had before been +fed by a small portion of its waters. + +I had come to London to see Adrian. He was not at the palace; and, +though the attendants did not know whither he had gone, they did not +expect him till late at night. It was between six and seven o’clock, a +fine summer afternoon, and I spent my leisure hours in a ramble through +the empty streets of London; now turning to avoid an approaching +funeral, now urged by curiosity to observe the state of a particular +spot; my wanderings were instinct with pain, for silence and desertion +characterized every place I visited, and the few beings I met were so +pale and woe-begone, so marked with care and depressed by fear, that +weary of encountering only signs of misery, I began to retread my steps +towards home. + +I was now in Holborn, and passed by a public house filled with +uproarious companions, whose songs, laughter, and shouts were more +sorrowful than the pale looks and silence of the mourner. Such an one +was near, hovering round this house. The sorry plight of her dress +displayed her poverty, she was ghastly pale, and continued approaching, +first the window and then the door of the house, as if fearful, yet +longing to enter. A sudden burst of song and merriment seemed to sting +her to the heart; she murmured, “Can he have the heart?” and then +mustering her courage, she stepped within the threshold. The landlady +met her in the passage; the poor creature asked, “Is my husband here? +Can I see George?” + +“See him,” cried the woman, “yes, if you go to him; last night he was +taken with the plague, and we sent him to the hospital.” + +The unfortunate inquirer staggered against a wall, a faint cry escaped +her —“O! were you cruel enough,” she exclaimed, “to send him there?” + +The landlady meanwhile hurried away; but a more compassionate bar-maid +gave her a detailed account, the sum of which was, that her husband had +been taken ill, after a night of riot, and sent by his boon companions +with all expedition to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. I had watched this +scene, for there was a gentleness about the poor woman that interested +me; she now tottered away from the door, walking as well as she could +down Holborn Hill; but her strength soon failed her; she leaned against +a wall, and her head sunk on her bosom, while her pallid cheek became +still more white. I went up to her and offered my services. She hardly +looked up—“You can do me no good,” she replied; “I must go to the +hospital; if I do not die before I get there.” + +There were still a few hackney-coaches accustomed to stand about the +streets, more truly from habit than for use. I put her in one of these, +and entered with her that I might secure her entrance into the +hospital. Our way was short, and she said little; except interrupted +ejaculations of reproach that he had left her, exclamations on the +unkindness of some of his friends, and hope that she would find him +alive. There was a simple, natural earnestness about her that +interested me in her fate, especially when she assured me that her +husband was the best of men,—had been so, till want of business during +these unhappy times had thrown him into bad company. “He could not bear +to come home,” she said, “only to see our children die. A man cannot +have the patience a mother has, with her own flesh and blood.” + +We were set down at St. Bartholomew’s, and entered the wretched +precincts of the house of disease. The poor creature clung closer to +me, as she saw with what heartless haste they bore the dead from the +wards, and took them into a room, whose half-opened door displayed a +number of corpses, horrible to behold by one unaccustomed to such +scenes. We were directed to the ward where her husband had been first +taken, and still was, the nurse said, if alive. My companion looked +eagerly from one bed to the other, till at the end of the ward she +espied, on a wretched bed, a squalid, haggard creature, writhing under +the torture of disease. She rushed towards him, she embraced him, +blessing God for his preservation. + +The enthusiasm that inspired her with this strange joy, blinded her to +the horrors about her; but they were intolerably agonizing to me. The +ward was filled with an effluvia that caused my heart to heave with +painful qualms. The dead were carried out, and the sick brought in, +with like indifference; some were screaming with pain, others laughing +from the influence of more terrible delirium; some were attended by +weeping, despairing relations, others called aloud with thrilling +tenderness or reproach on the friends who had deserted them, while the +nurses went from bed to bed, incarnate images of despair, neglect, and +death. I gave gold to my luckless companion; I recommended her to the +care of the attendants; I then hastened away; while the tormentor, the +imagination, busied itself in picturing my own loved ones, stretched on +such beds, attended thus. The country afforded no such mass of horrors; +solitary wretches died in the open fields; and I have found a survivor +in a vacant village, contending at once with famine and disease; but +the assembly of pestilence, the banqueting hall of death, was spread +only in London. + +I rambled on, oppressed, distracted by painful emotions—suddenly I +found myself before Drury Lane Theatre. The play was Macbeth—the first +actor of the age was there to exert his powers to drug with +irreflection the auditors; such a medicine I yearned for, so I entered. +The theatre was tolerably well filled. Shakspeare, whose popularity was +established by the approval of four centuries, had not lost his +influence even at this dread period; but was still “Ut magus,” the +wizard to rule our hearts and govern our imaginations. I came in during +the interval between the third and fourth act. I looked round on the +audience; the females were mostly of the lower classes, but the men +were of all ranks, come hither to forget awhile the protracted scenes +of wretchedness, which awaited them at their miserable homes. The +curtain drew up, and the stage presented the scene of the witches’ +cave. The wildness and supernatural machinery of Macbeth, was a pledge +that it could contain little directly connected with our present +circumstances. Great pains had been taken in the scenery to give the +semblance of reality to the impossible. The extreme darkness of the +stage, whose only light was received from the fire under the cauldron, +joined to a kind of mist that floated about it, rendered the unearthly +shapes of the witches obscure and shadowy. It was not three decrepid +old hags that bent over their pot throwing in the grim ingredients of +the magic charm, but forms frightful, unreal, and fanciful. The +entrance of Hecate, and the wild music that followed, took us out of +this world. The cavern shape the stage assumed, the beetling rocks, the +glare of the fire, the misty shades that crossed the scene at times, +the music in harmony with all witch-like fancies, permitted the +imagination to revel, without fear of contradiction, or reproof from +reason or the heart. The entrance of Macbeth did not destroy the +illusion, for he was actuated by the same feelings that inspired us, +and while the work of magic proceeded we sympathized in his wonder and +his daring, and gave ourselves up with our whole souls to the influence +of scenic delusion. I felt the beneficial result of such excitement, in +a renewal of those pleasing flights of fancy to which I had long been a +stranger. The effect of this scene of incantation communicated a +portion of its power to that which followed. We forgot that Malcolm and +Macduff were mere human beings, acted upon by such simple passions as +warmed our own breasts. By slow degrees however we were drawn to the +real interest of the scene. A shudder like the swift passing of an +electric shock ran through the house, when Rosse exclaimed, in answer +to “Stands Scotland where it did?” + + Alas, poor country; +Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot +Be called our mother, but our grave: where nothing, +But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; +Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the air, +Are made, not marked; where violent sorrow seems +A modern extasy: the dead man’s knell +Is there scarce asked, for who; and good men’s lives +Expire before the flowers in their caps, +Dying, or ere they sicken. + + +Each word struck the sense, as our life’s passing bell; we feared to +look at each other, but bent our gaze on the stage, as if our eyes +could fall innocuous on that alone. The person who played the part of +Rosse, suddenly became aware of the dangerous ground he trod. He was an +inferior actor, but truth now made him excellent; as he went on to +announce to Macduff the slaughter of his family, he was afraid to +speak, trembling from apprehension of a burst of grief from the +audience, not from his fellow-mime. Each word was drawn out with +difficulty; real anguish painted his features; his eyes were now lifted +in sudden horror, now fixed in dread upon the ground. This shew of +terror encreased ours, we gasped with him, each neck was stretched out, +each face changed with the actor’s changes— at length while Macduff, +who, attending to his part, was unobservant of the high wrought +sympathy of the house, cried with well acted passion: + + All my pretty ones? +Did you say all?—O hell kite! All? +What! all my pretty chickens, and their dam, +At one fell swoop! + + +A pang of tameless grief wrenched every heart, a burst of despair was +echoed from every lip.—I had entered into the universal feeling—I had +been absorbed by the terrors of Rosse—I re-echoed the cry of Macduff, +and then rushed out as from an hell of torture, to find calm in the +free air and silent street. + +Free the air was not, or the street silent. Oh, how I longed then for +the dear soothings of maternal Nature, as my wounded heart was still +further stung by the roar of heartless merriment from the public-house, +by the sight of the drunkard reeling home, having lost the memory of +what he would find there in oblivious debauch, and by the more +appalling salutations of those melancholy beings to whom the name of +home was a mockery. I ran on at my utmost speed until I found myself I +knew not how, close to Westminster Abbey, and was attracted by the deep +and swelling tone of the organ. I entered with soothing awe the lighted +chancel, and listened to the solemn religious chaunt, which spoke peace +and hope to the unhappy. The notes, freighted with man’s dearest +prayers, re-echoed through the dim aisles, and the bleeding of the +soul’s wounds was staunched by heavenly balm. In spite of the misery I +deprecated, and could not understand; in spite of the cold hearths of +wide London, and the corpse-strewn fields of my native land; in spite +of all the variety of agonizing emotions I had that evening +experienced, I thought that in reply to our melodious adjurations, the +Creator looked down in compassion and promise of relief; the awful peal +of the heaven-winged music seemed fitting voice wherewith to commune +with the Supreme; calm was produced by its sound, and by the sight of +many other human creatures offering up prayers and submission with me. +A sentiment approaching happiness followed the total resignation of +one’s being to the guardianship of the world’s ruler. Alas! with the +failing of this solemn strain, the elevated spirit sank again to earth. +Suddenly one of the choristers died—he was lifted from his desk, the +vaults below were hastily opened—he was consigned with a few muttered +prayers to the darksome cavern, abode of thousands who had gone +before—now wide yawning to receive even all who fulfilled the funeral +rites. In vain I would then have turned from this scene, to darkened +aisle or lofty dome, echoing with melodious praise. In the open air +alone I found relief; among nature’s beauteous works, her God reassumed +his attribute of benevolence, and again I could trust that he who built +up the mountains, planted the forests, and poured out the rivers, would +erect another state for lost humanity, where we might awaken again to +our affections, our happiness, and our faith. + +Fortunately for me those circumstances were of rare occurrence that +obliged me to visit London, and my duties were confined to the rural +district which our lofty castle overlooked; and here labour stood in +the place of pastime, to occupy such of the country people as were +sufficiently exempt from sorrow or disease. My endeavours were directed +towards urging them to their usual attention to their crops, and to the +acting as if pestilence did not exist. The mower’s scythe was at times +heard; yet the joyless haymakers after they had listlessly turned the +grass, forgot to cart it; the shepherd, when he had sheared his sheep, +would let the wool lie to be scattered by the winds, deeming it useless +to provide clothing for another winter. At times however the spirit of +life was awakened by these employments; the sun, the refreshing breeze, +the sweet smell of the hay, the rustling leaves and prattling rivulets +brought repose to the agitated bosom, and bestowed a feeling akin to +happiness on the apprehensive. Nor, strange to say, was the time +without its pleasures. Young couples, who had loved long and +hopelessly, suddenly found every impediment removed, and wealth pour in +from the death of relatives. The very danger drew them closer. The +immediate peril urged them to seize the immediate opportunity; wildly +and passionately they sought to know what delights existence afforded, +before they yielded to death, and + +Snatching their pleasures with rough strife +Thorough the iron gates of life,[13] + + +they defied the conquering pestilence to destroy what had been, or to +erase even from their death-bed thoughts the sentiment of happiness +which had been theirs. + +One instance of this kind came immediately under our notice, where a +high-born girl had in early youth given her heart to one of meaner +extraction. He was a schoolfellow and friend of her brother’s, and +usually spent a part of the holidays at the mansion of the duke her +father. They had played together as children, been the confidants of +each other’s little secrets, mutual aids and consolers in difficulty +and sorrow. Love had crept in, noiseless, terrorless at first, till +each felt their life bound up in the other, and at the same time knew +that they must part. Their extreme youth, and the purity of their +attachment, made them yield with less resistance to the tyranny of +circumstances. The father of the fair Juliet separated them; but not +until the young lover had promised to remain absent only till he had +rendered himself worthy of her, and she had vowed to preserve her +virgin heart, his treasure, till he returned to claim and possess it. + +Plague came, threatening to destroy at once the aim of the ambitious +and the hopes of love. Long the Duke of L——derided the idea that there +could be danger while he pursued his plans of cautious seclusion; and +he so far succeeded, that it was not till this second summer, that the +destroyer, at one fell stroke, overthrew his precautions, his security, +and his life. Poor Juliet saw one by one, father, mother, brothers, and +sisters, sicken and die. Most of the servants fled on the first +appearance of disease, those who remained were infected mortally; no +neighbour or rustic ventured within the verge of contagion. By a +strange fatality Juliet alone escaped, and she to the last waited on +her relatives, and smoothed the pillow of death. The moment at length +came, when the last blow was given to the last of the house: the +youthful survivor of her race sat alone among the dead. There was no +living being near to soothe her, or withdraw her from this hideous +company. With the declining heat of a September night, a whirlwind of +storm, thunder, and hail, rattled round the house, and with ghastly +harmony sung the dirge of her family. She sat upon the ground absorbed +in wordless despair, when through the gusty wind and bickering rain she +thought she heard her name called. Whose could that familiar voice be? +Not one of her relations, for they lay glaring on her with stony eyes. +Again her name was syllabled, and she shuddered as she asked herself, +am I becoming mad, or am I dying, that I hear the voices of the +departed? A second thought passed, swift as an arrow, into her brain; +she rushed to the window; and a flash of lightning shewed to her the +expected vision, her lover in the shrubbery beneath; joy lent her +strength to descend the stairs, to open the door, and then she fainted +in his supporting arms. + +A thousand times she reproached herself, as with a crime, that she +should revive to happiness with him. The natural clinging of the human +mind to life and joy was in its full energy in her young heart; she +gave herself impetuously up to the enchantment: they were married; and +in their radiant features I saw incarnate, for the last time, the +spirit of love, of rapturous sympathy, which once had been the life of +the world. + +I envied them, but felt how impossible it was to imbibe the same +feeling, now that years had multiplied my ties in the world. Above all, +the anxious mother, my own beloved and drooping Idris, claimed my +earnest care; I could not reproach the anxiety that never for a moment +slept in her heart, but I exerted myself to distract her attention from +too keen an observation of the truth of things, of the near and nearer +approaches of disease, misery, and death, of the wild look of our +attendants as intelligence of another and yet another death reached us; +for to the last something new occurred that seemed to transcend in +horror all that had gone before. Wretched beings crawled to die under +our succouring roof; the inhabitants of the Castle decreased daily, +while the survivors huddled together in fear, and, as in a +famine-struck boat, the sport of the wild, interminable waves, each +looked in the other’s face, to guess on whom the death-lot would next +fall. All this I endeavoured to veil, so that it might least impress my +Idris; yet, as I have said, my courage survived even despair: I might +be vanquished, but I would not yield. + +One day, it was the ninth of September, seemed devoted to every +disaster, to every harrowing incident. Early in the day, I heard of the +arrival of the aged grandmother of one of our servants at the Castle. +This old woman had reached her hundredth year; her skin was shrivelled, +her form was bent and lost in extreme decrepitude; but as still from +year to year she continued in existence, out-living many younger and +stronger, she began to feel as if she were to live for ever. The plague +came, and the inhabitants of her village died. Clinging, with the +dastard feeling of the aged, to the remnant of her spent life, she had, +on hearing that the pestilence had come into her neighbourhood, barred +her door, and closed her casement, refusing to communicate with any. +She would wander out at night to get food, and returned home, pleased +that she had met no one, that she was in no danger from the plague. As +the earth became more desolate, her difficulty in acquiring sustenance +increased; at first, her son, who lived near, had humoured her by +placing articles of food in her way: at last he died. But, even though +threatened by famine, her fear of the plague was paramount; and her +greatest care was to avoid her fellow creatures. She grew weaker each +day, and each day she had further to go. The night before, she had +reached Datchet; and, prowling about, had found a baker’s shop open and +deserted. Laden with spoil, she hastened to return, and lost her way. +The night was windless, hot, and cloudy; her load became too heavy for +her; and one by one she threw away her loaves, still endeavouring to +get along, though her hobbling fell into lameness, and her weakness at +last into inability to move. + +She lay down among the tall corn, and fell asleep. Deep in midnight, +she was awaked by a rustling near her; she would have started up, but +her stiff joints refused to obey her will. A low moan close to her ear +followed, and the rustling increased; she heard a smothered voice +breathe out, Water, Water! several times; and then again a sigh heaved +from the heart of the sufferer. The old woman shuddered, she contrived +at length to sit upright; but her teeth chattered, and her knees +knocked together—close, very close, lay a half-naked figure, just +discernible in the gloom, and the cry for water and the stifled moan +were again uttered. Her motions at length attracted the attention of +her unknown companion; her hand was seized with a convulsive violence +that made the grasp feel like iron, the fingers like the keen teeth of +a trap.—“At last you are come!” were the words given forth—but this +exertion was the last effort of the dying—the joints relaxed, the +figure fell prostrate, one low moan, the last, marked the moment of +death. Morning broke; and the old woman saw the corpse, marked with the +fatal disease, close to her; her wrist was livid with the hold loosened +by death. She felt struck by the plague; her aged frame was unable to +bear her away with sufficient speed; and now, believing herself +infected, she no longer dreaded the association of others; but, as +swiftly as she might, came to her grand-daughter, at Windsor Castle, +there to lament and die. The sight was horrible; still she clung to +life, and lamented her mischance with cries and hideous groans; while +the swift advance of the disease shewed, what proved to be the fact, +that she could not survive many hours. + +While I was directing that the necessary care should be taken of her, +Clara came in; she was trembling and pale; and, when I anxiously asked +her the cause of her agitation, she threw herself into my arms weeping +and exclaiming—“Uncle, dearest uncle, do not hate me for ever! I must +tell you, for you must know, that Evelyn, poor little Evelyn”—her voice +was choked by sobs. The fear of so mighty a calamity as the loss of our +adored infant made the current of my blood pause with chilly horror; +but the remembrance of the mother restored my presence of mind. I +sought the little bed of my darling; he was oppressed by fever; but I +trusted, I fondly and fearfully trusted, that there were no symptoms of +the plague. He was not three years old, and his illness appeared only +one of those attacks incident to infancy. I watched him long—his heavy +half-closed lids, his burning cheeks and restless twining of his small +fingers—the fever was violent, the torpor complete—enough, without the +greater fear of pestilence, to awaken alarm. Idris must not see him in +this state. Clara, though only twelve years old, was rendered, through +extreme sensibility, so prudent and careful, that I felt secure in +entrusting the charge of him to her, and it was my task to prevent +Idris from observing their absence. I administered the fitting +remedies, and left my sweet niece to watch beside him, and bring me +notice of any change she should observe. + +I then went to Idris, contriving in my way, plausible excuses for +remaining all day in the Castle, and endeavouring to disperse the +traces of care from my brow. Fortunately she was not alone. I found +Merrival, the astronomer, with her. He was far too long sighted in his +view of humanity to heed the casualties of the day, and lived in the +midst of contagion unconscious of its existence. This poor man, learned +as La Place, guileless and unforeseeing as a child, had often been on +the point of starvation, he, his pale wife and numerous offspring, +while he neither felt hunger, nor observed distress. His astronomical +theories absorbed him; calculations were scrawled with coal on the bare +walls of his garret: a hard-earned guinea, or an article of dress, was +exchanged for a book without remorse; he neither heard his children +cry, nor observed his companion’s emaciated form, and the excess of +calamity was merely to him as the occurrence of a cloudy night, when he +would have given his right hand to observe a celestial phenomenon. His +wife was one of those wondrous beings, to be found only among women, +with affections not to be diminished by misfortune. Her mind was +divided between boundless admiration for her husband, and tender +anxiety for her children—she waited on him, worked for them, and never +complained, though care rendered her life one long-drawn, melancholy +dream. + +He had introduced himself to Adrian, by a request he made to observe +some planetary motions from his glass. His poverty was easily detected +and relieved. He often thanked us for the books we lent him, and for +the use of our instruments, but never spoke of his altered abode or +change of circumstances. His wife assured us, that he had not observed +any difference, except in the absence of the children from his study, +and to her infinite surprise he complained of this unaccustomed quiet. + +He came now to announce to us the completion of his Essay on the +Pericyclical Motions of the Earth’s Axis, and the precession of the +equinoctial points. If an old Roman of the period of the Republic had +returned to life, and talked of the impending election of some +laurel-crowned consul, or of the last battle with Mithridates, his +ideas would not have been more alien to the times, than the +conversation of Merrival. Man, no longer with an appetite for sympathy, +clothed his thoughts in visible signs; nor were there any readers left: +while each one, having thrown away his sword with opposing shield +alone, awaited the plague, Merrival talked of the state of mankind six +thousand years hence. He might with equal interest to us, have added a +commentary, to describe the unknown and unimaginable lineaments of the +creatures, who would then occupy the vacated dwelling of mankind. We +had not the heart to undeceive the poor old man; and at the moment I +came in, he was reading parts of his book to Idris, asking what answer +could be given to this or that position. + +Idris could not refrain from a smile, as she listened; she had already +gathered from him that his family was alive and in health; though not +apt to forget the precipice of time on which she stood, yet I could +perceive that she was amused for a moment, by the contrast between the +contracted view we had so long taken of human life, and the seven +league strides with which Merrival paced a coming eternity. I was glad +to see her smile, because it assured me of her total ignorance of her +infant’s danger: but I shuddered to think of the revulsion that would +be occasioned by a discovery of the truth. While Merrival was talking, +Clara softly opened a door behind Idris, and beckoned me to come with a +gesture and look of grief. A mirror betrayed the sign to Idris—she +started up. To suspect evil, to perceive that, Alfred being with us, +the danger must regard her youngest darling, to fly across the long +chambers into his apartment, was the work but of a moment. There she +beheld her Evelyn lying fever-stricken and motionless. I followed her, +and strove to inspire more hope than I could myself entertain; but she +shook her head mournfully. Anguish deprived her of presence of mind; +she gave up to me and Clara the physician’s and nurse’s parts; she sat +by the bed, holding one little burning hand, and, with glazed eyes +fixed on her babe, passed the long day in one unvaried agony. It was +not the plague that visited our little boy so roughly; but she could +not listen to my assurances; apprehension deprived her of judgment and +reflection; every slight convulsion of her child’s features shook her +frame —if he moved, she dreaded the instant crisis; if he remained +still, she saw death in his torpor, and the cloud on her brow darkened. + +The poor little thing’s fever encreased towards night. The sensation is +most dreary, to use no stronger term, with which one looks forward to +passing the long hours of night beside a sick bed, especially if the +patient be an infant, who cannot explain its pain, and whose flickering +life resembles the wasting flame of the watch-light, + + Whose narrow fire +Is shaken by the wind, and on whose edge +Devouring darkness hovers.[14] + + +With eagerness one turns toward the east, with angry impatience one +marks the unchequered darkness; the crowing of a cock, that sound of +glee during day-time, comes wailing and untuneable—the creaking of +rafters, and slight stir of invisible insect is heard and felt as the +signal and type of desolation. Clara, overcome by weariness, had seated +herself at the foot of her cousin’s bed, and in spite of her efforts +slumber weighed down her lids; twice or thrice she shook it off; but at +length she was conquered and slept. Idris sat at the bedside, holding +Evelyn’s hand; we were afraid to speak to each other; I watched the +stars —I hung over my child—I felt his little pulse—I drew near the +mother—again I receded. At the turn of morning a gentle sigh from the +patient attracted me, the burning spot on his cheek faded—his pulse +beat softly and regularly—torpor yielded to sleep. For a long time I +dared not hope; but when his unobstructed breathing and the moisture +that suffused his forehead, were tokens no longer to be mistaken of the +departure of mortal malady, I ventured to whisper the news of the +change to Idris, and at length succeeded in persuading her that I spoke +truth. + +But neither this assurance, nor the speedy convalescence of our child +could restore her, even to the portion of peace she before enjoyed. Her +fear had been too deep, too absorbing, too entire, to be changed to +security. She felt as if during her past calm she had dreamed, but was +now awake; she was + + As one +In some lone watch-tower on the deep, awakened +From soothing visions of the home he loves, +Trembling to hear the wrathful billows roar;[15] + + +as one who has been cradled by a storm, and awakes to find the vessel +sinking. Before, she had been visited by pangs of fear—now, she never +enjoyed an interval of hope. No smile of the heart ever irradiated her +fair countenance; sometimes she forced one, and then gushing tears +would flow, and the sea of grief close above these wrecks of past +happiness. Still while I was near her, she could not be in utter +despair— she fully confided herself to me—she did not seem to fear my +death, or revert to its possibility; to my guardianship she consigned +the full freight of her anxieties, reposing on my love, as a +wind-nipped fawn by the side of a doe, as a wounded nestling under its +mother’s wing, as a tiny, shattered boat, quivering still, beneath some +protecting willow-tree. While I, not proudly as in days of joy, yet +tenderly, and with glad consciousness of the comfort I afforded, drew +my trembling girl close to my heart, and tried to ward every painful +thought or rough circumstance from her sensitive nature. + +One other incident occurred at the end of this summer. The Countess of +Windsor, Ex-Queen of England, returned from Germany. She had at the +beginning of the season quitted the vacant city of Vienna; and, unable +to tame her haughty mind to anything like submission, she had delayed +at Hamburgh, and, when at last she came to London, many weeks elapsed +before she gave Adrian notice of her arrival. In spite of her coldness +and long absence, he welcomed her with sensibility, displaying such +affection as sought to heal the wounds of pride and sorrow, and was +repulsed only by her total apparent want of sympathy. Idris heard of +her mother’s return with pleasure. Her own maternal feelings were so +ardent, that she imagined her parent must now, in this waste world, +have lost pride and harshness, and would receive with delight her +filial attentions. The first check to her duteous demonstrations was a +formal intimation from the fallen majesty of England, that I was in no +manner to be intruded upon her. She consented, she said, to forgive her +daughter, and acknowledge her grandchildren; larger concessions must +not be expected. + +To me this proceeding appeared (if so light a term may be permitted) +extremely whimsical. Now that the race of man had lost in fact all +distinction of rank, this pride was doubly fatuitous; now that we felt +a kindred, fraternal nature with all who bore the stamp of humanity, +this angry reminiscence of times for ever gone, was worse than foolish. +Idris was too much taken up by her own dreadful fears, to be angry, +hardly grieved; for she judged that insensibility must be the source of +this continued rancour. This was not altogether the fact: but +predominant self-will assumed the arms and masque of callous feeling; +and the haughty lady disdained to exhibit any token of the struggle she +endured; while the slave of pride, she fancied that she sacrificed her +happiness to immutable principle. + +False was all this—false all but the affections of our nature, and the +links of sympathy with pleasure or pain. There was but one good and one +evil in the world—life and death. The pomp of rank, the assumption of +power, the possessions of wealth vanished like morning mist. One living +beggar had become of more worth than a national peerage of dead lords— +alas the day!—than of dead heroes, patriots, or men of genius. There +was much of degradation in this: for even vice and virtue had lost +their attributes—life—life—the continuation of our animal mechanism— +was the Alpha and Omega of the desires, the prayers, the prostrate +ambition of human race. + + [10] Calderon de la Barca. + + + [11] [2] Wordsworth. + + + [12] Keats. + + + [13] Andrew Marvell. + + + [14] The Cenci + + + [15] The Brides’ Tragedy, by T. L. Beddoes, Esq. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Half England was desolate, when October came, and the equinoctial winds +swept over the earth, chilling the ardours of the unhealthy season. The +summer, which was uncommonly hot, had been protracted into the +beginning of this month, when on the eighteenth a sudden change was +brought about from summer temperature to winter frost. Pestilence then +made a pause in her death-dealing career. Gasping, not daring to name +our hopes, yet full even to the brim with intense expectation, we +stood, as a ship-wrecked sailor stands on a barren rock islanded by the +ocean, watching a distant vessel, fancying that now it nears, and then +again that it is bearing from sight. This promise of a renewed lease of +life turned rugged natures to melting tenderness, and by contrast +filled the soft with harsh and unnatural sentiments. When it seemed +destined that all were to die, we were reckless of the how and when—now +that the virulence of the disease was mitigated, and it appeared +willing to spare some, each was eager to be among the elect, and clung +to life with dastard tenacity. Instances of desertion became more +frequent; and even murders, which made the hearer sick with horror, +where the fear of contagion had armed those nearest in blood against +each other. But these smaller and separate tragedies were about to +yield to a mightier interest—and, while we were promised calm from +infectious influences, a tempest arose wilder than the winds, a tempest +bred by the passions of man, nourished by his most violent impulses, +unexampled and dire. + +A number of people from North America, the relics of that populous +continent, had set sail for the East with mad desire of change, leaving +their native plains for lands not less afflicted than their own. +Several hundreds landed in Ireland, about the first of November, and +took possession of such vacant habitations as they could find; seizing +upon the superabundant food, and the stray cattle. As they exhausted +the produce of one spot, they went on to another. At length they began +to interfere with the inhabitants, and strong in their concentrated +numbers, ejected the natives from their dwellings, and robbed them of +their winter store. A few events of this kind roused the fiery nature +of the Irish; and they attacked the invaders. Some were destroyed; the +major part escaped by quick and well ordered movements; and danger made +them careful. Their numbers ably arranged; the very deaths among them +concealed; moving on in good order, and apparently given up to +enjoyment, they excited the envy of the Irish. The Americans permitted +a few to join their band, and presently the recruits outnumbered the +strangers—nor did they join with them, nor imitate the admirable order +which, preserved by the Trans-Atlantic chiefs, rendered them at once +secure and formidable. The Irish followed their track in disorganized +multitudes; each day encreasing; each day becoming more lawless. The +Americans were eager to escape from the spirit they had roused, and, +reaching the eastern shores of the island, embarked for England. Their +incursion would hardly have been felt had they come alone; but the +Irish, collected in unnatural numbers, began to feel the inroads of +famine, and they followed in the wake of the Americans for England +also. The crossing of the sea could not arrest their progress. The +harbours of the desolate sea-ports of the west of Ireland were filled +with vessels of all sizes, from the man of war to the small fishers’ +boat, which lay sailorless, and rotting on the lazy deep. The emigrants +embarked by hundreds, and unfurling their sails with rude hands, made +strange havoc of buoy and cordage. Those who modestly betook themselves +to the smaller craft, for the most part achieved their watery journey +in safety. Some, in the true spirit of reckless enterprise, went on +board a ship of an hundred and twenty guns; the vast hull drifted with +the tide out of the bay, and after many hours its crew of landsmen +contrived to spread a great part of her enormous canvass—the wind took +it, and while a thousand mistakes of the helmsman made her present her +head now to one point, and now to another, the vast fields of canvass +that formed her sails flapped with a sound like that of a huge +cataract; or such as a sea-like forest may give forth when buffeted by +an equinoctial north-wind. The port-holes were open, and with every +sea, which as she lurched, washed her decks, they received whole tons +of water. The difficulties were increased by a fresh breeze which began +to blow, whistling among the shrowds, dashing the sails this way and +that, and rending them with horrid split, and such whir as may have +visited the dreams of Milton, when he imagined the winnowing of the +arch-fiend’s van-like wings, which encreased the uproar of wild chaos. +These sounds were mingled with the roaring of the sea, the splash of +the chafed billows round the vessel’s sides, and the gurgling up of the +water in the hold. The crew, many of whom had never seen the sea +before, felt indeed as if heaven and earth came ruining together, as +the vessel dipped her bows in the waves, or rose high upon them. Their +yells were drowned in the clamour of elements, and the thunder rivings +of their unwieldy habitation—they discovered at last that the water +gained on them, and they betook themselves to their pumps; they might +as well have laboured to empty the ocean by bucketfuls. As the sun went +down, the gale encreased; the ship seemed to feel her danger, she was +now completely water-logged, and presented other indications of +settling before she went down. The bay was crowded with vessels, whose +crews, for the most part, were observing the uncouth sportings of this +huge unwieldy machine—they saw her gradually sink; the waters now +rising above her lower decks—they could hardly wink before she had +utterly disappeared, nor could the place where the sea had closed over +her be at all discerned. Some few of her crew were saved, but the +greater part clinging to her cordage and masts went down with her, to +rise only when death loosened their hold. + +This event caused many of those who were about to sail, to put foot +again on firm land, ready to encounter any evil rather than to rush +into the yawning jaws of the pitiless ocean. But these were few, in +comparison to the numbers who actually crossed. Many went up as high as +Belfast to ensure a shorter passage, and then journeying south through +Scotland, they were joined by the poorer natives of that country, and +all poured with one consent into England. + +Such incursions struck the English with affright, in all those towns +where there was still sufficient population to feel the change. There +was room enough indeed in our hapless country for twice the number of +invaders; but their lawless spirit instigated them to violence; they +took a delight in thrusting the possessors from their houses; in +seizing on some mansion of luxury, where the noble dwellers secluded +themselves in fear of the plague; in forcing these of either sex to +become their servants and purveyors; till, the ruin complete in one +place, they removed their locust visitation to another. When unopposed +they spread their ravages wide; in cases of danger they clustered, and +by dint of numbers overthrew their weak and despairing foes. They came +from the east and the north, and directed their course without apparent +motive, but unanimously towards our unhappy metropolis. + +Communication had been to a great degree cut off through the paralyzing +effects of pestilence, so that the van of our invaders had proceeded as +far as Manchester and Derby, before we received notice of their +arrival. They swept the country like a conquering army, burning—laying +waste— murdering. The lower and vagabond English joined with them. Some +few of the Lords Lieutenant who remained, endeavoured to collect the +militia—but the ranks were vacant, panic seized on all, and the +opposition that was made only served to increase the audacity and +cruelty of the enemy. They talked of taking London, conquering +England—calling to mind the long detail of injuries which had for many +years been forgotten. Such vaunts displayed their weakness, rather than +their strength—yet still they might do extreme mischief, which, ending +in their destruction, would render them at last objects of compassion +and remorse. + +We were now taught how, in the beginning of the world, mankind clothed +their enemies in impossible attributes—and how details proceeding from +mouth to mouth, might, like Virgil’s ever-growing Rumour, reach the +heavens with her brow, and clasp Hesperus and Lucifer with her +outstretched hands. Gorgon and Centaur, dragon and iron-hoofed lion, +vast sea-monster and gigantic hydra, were but types of the strange and +appalling accounts brought to London concerning our invaders. Their +landing was long unknown, but having now advanced within an hundred +miles of London, the country people flying before them arrived in +successive troops, each exaggerating the numbers, fury, and cruelty of +the assailants. Tumult filled the before quiet streets—women and +children deserted their homes, escaping they knew not whither—fathers, +husbands, and sons, stood trembling, not for themselves, but for their +loved and defenceless relations. As the country people poured into +London, the citizens fled southwards—they climbed the higher edifices +of the town, fancying that they could discern the smoke and flames the +enemy spread around them. As Windsor lay, to a great degree, in the +line of march from the west, I removed my family to London, assigning +the Tower for their sojourn, and joining Adrian, acted as his +Lieutenant in the coming struggle. + +We employed only two days in our preparations, and made good use of +them. Artillery and arms were collected; the remnants of such +regiments, as could be brought through many losses into any show of +muster, were put under arms, with that appearance of military +discipline which might encourage our own party, and seem most +formidable to the disorganized multitude of our enemies. Even music was +not wanting: banners floated in the air, and the shrill fife and loud +trumpet breathed forth sounds of encouragement and victory. A practised +ear might trace an undue faltering in the step of the soldiers; but +this was not occasioned so much by fear of the adversary, as by +disease, by sorrow, and by fatal prognostications, which often weighed +most potently on the brave, and quelled the manly heart to abject +subjection. + +Adrian led the troops. He was full of care. It was small relief to him +that our discipline should gain us success in such a conflict; while +plague still hovered to equalize the conqueror and the conquered, it +was not victory that he desired, but bloodless peace. As we advanced, +we were met by bands of peasantry, whose almost naked condition, whose +despair and horror, told at once the fierce nature of the coming enemy. +The senseless spirit of conquest and thirst of spoil blinded them, +while with insane fury they deluged the country in ruin. The sight of +the military restored hope to those who fled, and revenge took place of +fear. They inspired the soldiers with the same sentiment. Languor was +changed to ardour, the slow step converted to a speedy pace, while the +hollow murmur of the multitude, inspired by one feeling, and that +deadly, filled the air, drowning the clang of arms and sound of music. +Adrian perceived the change, and feared that it would be difficult to +prevent them from wreaking their utmost fury on the Irish. He rode +through the lines, charging the officers to restrain the troops, +exhorting the soldiers, restoring order, and quieting in some degree +the violent agitation that swelled every bosom. + +We first came upon a few stragglers of the Irish at St. Albans. They +retreated, and, joining others of their companions, still fell back, +till they reached the main body. Tidings of an armed and regular +opposition recalled them to a sort of order. They made Buckingham their +head-quarters, and scouts were sent out to ascertain our situation. We +remained for the night at Luton. In the morning a simultaneous movement +caused us each to advance. It was early dawn, and the air, impregnated +with freshest odour, seemed in idle mockery to play with our banners, +and bore onwards towards the enemy the music of the bands, the +neighings of the horses, and regular step of the infantry. The first +sound of martial instruments that came upon our undisciplined foe, +inspired surprise, not unmingled with dread. It spoke of other days, of +days of concord and order; it was associated with times when plague was +not, and man lived beyond the shadow of imminent fate. The pause was +momentary. Soon we heard their disorderly clamour, the barbarian +shouts, the untimed step of thousands coming on in disarray. Their +troops now came pouring on us from the open country or narrow lanes; a +large extent of unenclosed fields lay between us; we advanced to the +middle of this, and then made a halt: being somewhat on superior +ground, we could discern the space they covered. When their leaders +perceived us drawn out in opposition, they also gave the word to halt, +and endeavoured to form their men into some imitation of military +discipline. The first ranks had muskets; some were mounted, but their +arms were such as they had seized during their advance, their horses +those they had taken from the peasantry; there was no uniformity, and +little obedience, but their shouts and wild gestures showed the untamed +spirit that inspired them. Our soldiers received the word, and advanced +to quickest time, but in perfect order: their uniform dresses, the +gleam of their polished arms, their silence, and looks of sullen hate, +were more appalling than the savage clamour of our innumerous foe. Thus +coming nearer and nearer each other, the howls and shouts of the Irish +increased; the English proceeded in obedience to their officers, until +they came near enough to distinguish the faces of their enemies; the +sight inspired them with fury: with one cry, that rent heaven and was +re-echoed by the furthest lines, they rushed on; they disdained the use +of the bullet, but with fixed bayonet dashed among the opposing foe, +while the ranks opening at intervals, the matchmen lighted the cannon, +whose deafening roar and blinding smoke filled up the horror of the +scene. I was beside Adrian; a moment before he had again given the word +to halt, and had remained a few yards distant from us in deep +meditation: he was forming swiftly his plan of action, to prevent the +effusion of blood; the noise of cannon, the sudden rush of the troops, +and yell of the foe, startled him: with flashing eyes he exclaimed, +“Not one of these must perish!” and plunging the rowels into his +horse’s sides, he dashed between the conflicting bands. We, his staff, +followed him to surround and protect him; obeying his signal, however, +we fell back somewhat. The soldiery perceiving him, paused in their +onset; he did not swerve from the bullets that passed near him, but +rode immediately between the opposing lines. Silence succeeded to +clamour; about fifty men lay on the ground dying or dead. Adrian raised +his sword in act to speak: “By whose command,” he cried, addressing his +own troops, “do you advance? Who ordered your attack? Fall back; these +misguided men shall not be slaughtered, while I am your general. Sheath +your weapons; these are your brothers, commit not fratricide; soon the +plague will not leave one for you to glut your revenge upon: will you +be more pitiless than pestilence? As you honour me—as you worship God, +in whose image those also are created—as your children and friends are +dear to you,—shed not a drop of precious human blood.” + +He spoke with outstretched hand and winning voice, and then turning to +our invaders, with a severe brow, he commanded them to lay down their +arms: “Do you think,” he said, “that because we are wasted by plague, +you can overcome us; the plague is also among you, and when ye are +vanquished by famine and disease, the ghosts of those you have murdered +will arise to bid you not hope in death. Lay down your arms, barbarous +and cruel men—men whose hands are stained with the blood of the +innocent, whose souls are weighed down by the orphan’s cry! We shall +conquer, for the right is on our side; already your cheeks are pale—the +weapons fall from your nerveless grasp. Lay down your arms, fellow men! +brethren! Pardon, succour, and brotherly love await your repentance. +You are dear to us, because you wear the frail shape of humanity; each +one among you will find a friend and host among these forces. Shall man +be the enemy of man, while plague, the foe to all, even now is above +us, triumphing in our butchery, more cruel than her own?” + +Each army paused. On our side the soldiers grasped their arms firmly, +and looked with stern glances on the foe. These had not thrown down +their weapons, more from fear than the spirit of contest; they looked +at each other, each wishing to follow some example given him,—but they +had no leader. Adrian threw himself from his horse, and approaching one +of those just slain: “He was a man,” he cried, “and he is dead. O +quickly bind up the wounds of the fallen—let not one die; let not one +more soul escape through your merciless gashes, to relate before the +throne of God the tale of fratricide; bind up their wounds—restore them +to their friends. Cast away the hearts of tigers that burn in your +breasts; throw down those tools of cruelty and hate; in this pause of +exterminating destiny, let each man be brother, guardian, and stay to +the other. Away with those blood-stained arms, and hasten some of you +to bind up these wounds.” + +As he spoke, he knelt on the ground, and raised in his arms a man from +whose side the warm tide of life gushed—the poor wretch gasped—so still +had either host become, that his moans were distinctly heard, and every +heart, late fiercely bent on universal massacre, now beat anxiously in +hope and fear for the fate of this one man. Adrian tore off his +military scarf and bound it round the sufferer—it was too late—the man +heaved a deep sigh, his head fell back, his limbs lost their sustaining +power.— “He is dead!” said Adrian, as the corpse fell from his arms on +the ground, and he bowed his head in sorrow and awe. The fate of the +world seemed bound up in the death of this single man. On either side +the bands threw down their arms, even the veterans wept, and our party +held out their hands to their foes, while a gush of love and deepest +amity filled every heart. The two forces mingling, unarmed and hand in +hand, talking only how each might assist the other, the adversaries +conjoined; each repenting, the one side their former cruelties, the +other their late violence, they obeyed the orders of the General to +proceed towards London. + +Adrian was obliged to exert his utmost prudence, first to allay the +discord, and then to provide for the multitude of the invaders. They +were marched to various parts of the southern counties, quartered in +deserted villages,—a part were sent back to their own island, while the +season of winter so far revived our energy, that the passes of the +country were defended, and any increase of numbers prohibited. + +On this occasion Adrian and Idris met after a separation of nearly a +year. Adrian had been occupied in fulfilling a laborious and painful +task. He had been familiar with every species of human misery, and had +for ever found his powers inadequate, his aid of small avail. Yet the +purpose of his soul, his energy and ardent resolution, prevented any +re-action of sorrow. He seemed born anew, and virtue, more potent than +Medean alchemy, endued him with health and strength. Idris hardly +recognized the fragile being, whose form had seemed to bend even to the +summer breeze, in the energetic man, whose very excess of sensibility +rendered him more capable of fulfilling his station of pilot in +storm-tossed England. + +It was not thus with Idris. She was uncomplaining; but the very soul of +fear had taken its seat in her heart. She had grown thin and pale, her +eyes filled with involuntary tears, her voice was broken and low. She +tried to throw a veil over the change which she knew her brother must +observe in her, but the effort was ineffectual; and when alone with +him, with a burst of irrepressible grief she gave vent to her +apprehensions and sorrow. She described in vivid terms the ceaseless +care that with still renewing hunger ate into her soul; she compared +this gnawing of sleepless expectation of evil, to the vulture that fed +on the heart of Prometheus; under the influence of this eternal +excitement, and of the interminable struggles she endured to combat and +conceal it, she felt, she said, as if all the wheels and springs of the +animal machine worked at double rate, and were fast consuming +themselves. Sleep was not sleep, for her waking thoughts, bridled by +some remains of reason, and by the sight of her children happy and in +health, were then transformed to wild dreams, all her terrors were +realized, all her fears received their dread fulfilment. To this state +there was no hope, no alleviation, unless the grave should quickly +receive its destined prey, and she be permitted to die, before she +experienced a thousand living deaths in the loss of those she loved. +Fearing to give me pain, she hid as best she could the excess of her +wretchedness, but meeting thus her brother after a long absence, she +could not restrain the expression of her woe, but with all the +vividness of imagination with which misery is always replete, she +poured out the emotions of her heart to her beloved and sympathizing +Adrian. + +Her present visit to London tended to augment her state of inquietude, +by shewing in its utmost extent the ravages occasioned by pestilence. +It hardly preserved the appearance of an inhabited city; grass sprung +up thick in the streets; the squares were weed-grown, the houses were +shut up, while silence and loneliness characterized the busiest parts +of the town. Yet in the midst of desolation Adrian had preserved order; +and each one continued to live according to law and custom—human +institutions thus surviving as it were divine ones, and while the +decree of population was abrogated, property continued sacred. It was a +melancholy reflection; and in spite of the diminution of evil produced, +it struck on the heart as a wretched mockery. All idea of resort for +pleasure, of theatres and festivals had passed away. “Next summer,” +said Adrian as we parted on our return to Windsor, “will decide the +fate of the human race. I shall not pause in my exertions until that +time; but, if plague revives with the coming year, all contest with her +must cease, and our only occupation be the choice of a grave.” + +I must not forget one incident that occurred during this visit to +London. The visits of Merrival to Windsor, before frequent, had +suddenly ceased. At this time where but a hair’s line separated the +living from the dead, I feared that our friend had become a victim to +the all-embracing evil. On this occasion I went, dreading the worst, to +his dwelling, to see if I could be of any service to those of his +family who might have survived. The house was deserted, and had been +one of those assigned to the invading strangers quartered in London. I +saw his astronomical instruments put to strange uses, his globes +defaced, his papers covered with abstruse calculations destroyed. The +neighbours could tell me little, till I lighted on a poor woman who +acted as nurse in these perilous times. She told me that all the family +were dead, except Merrival himself, who had gone mad— mad, she called +it, yet on questioning her further, it appeared that he was possessed +only by the delirium of excessive grief. This old man, tottering on the +edge of the grave, and prolonging his prospect through millions of +calculated years,—this visionary who had not seen starvation in the +wasted forms of his wife and children, or plague in the horrible sights +and sounds that surrounded him—this astronomer, apparently dead on +earth, and living only in the motion of the spheres—loved his family +with unapparent but intense affection. Through long habit they had +become a part of himself; his want of worldly knowledge, his absence of +mind and infant guilelessness, made him utterly dependent on them. It +was not till one of them died that he perceived their danger; one by +one they were carried off by pestilence; and his wife, his helpmate and +supporter, more necessary to him than his own limbs and frame, which +had hardly been taught the lesson of self-preservation, the kind +companion whose voice always spoke peace to him, closed her eyes in +death. The old man felt the system of universal nature which he had so +long studied and adored, slide from under him, and he stood among the +dead, and lifted his voice in curses.—No wonder that the attendant +should interpret as phrensy the harrowing maledictions of the +grief-struck old man. + +I had commenced my search late in the day, a November day, that closed +in early with pattering rain and melancholy wind. As I turned from the +door, I saw Merrival, or rather the shadow of Merrival, attenuated and +wild, pass me, and sit on the steps of his home. The breeze scattered +the grey locks on his temples, the rain drenched his uncovered head, he +sat hiding his face in his withered hands. I pressed his shoulder to +awaken his attention, but he did not alter his position. “Merrival,” I +said, “it is long since we have seen you—you must return to Windsor +with me—Lady Idris desires to see you, you will not refuse her +request—come home with me.” + +He replied in a hollow voice, “Why deceive a helpless old man, why talk +hypocritically to one half crazed? Windsor is not my home; my true home +I have found; the home that the Creator has prepared for me.” + +His accent of bitter scorn thrilled me—“Do not tempt me to speak,” he +continued, “my words would scare you—in an universe of cowards I dare +think—among the church-yard tombs—among the victims of His merciless +tyranny I dare reproach the Supreme Evil. How can he punish me? Let him +bare his arm and transfix me with lightning—this is also one of his +attributes”—and the old man laughed. + +He rose, and I followed him through the rain to a neighbouring +church-yard —he threw himself on the wet earth. “Here they are,” he +cried, “beautiful creatures—breathing, speaking, loving creatures. She +who by day and night cherished the age-worn lover of her youth—they, +parts of my flesh, my children—here they are: call them, scream their +names through the night; they will not answer!” He clung to the little +heaps that marked the graves. “I ask but one thing; I do not fear His +hell, for I have it here; I do not desire His heaven, let me but die +and be laid beside them; let me but, when I lie dead, feel my flesh as +it moulders, mingle with theirs. Promise,” and he raised himself +painfully, and seized my arm, “promise to bury me with them.” + +“So God help me and mine as I promise,” I replied, “on one condition: +return with me to Windsor.” + +“To Windsor!” he cried with a shriek, “Never!—from this place I never +go —my bones, my flesh, I myself, are already buried here, and what you +see of me is corrupted clay like them. I will lie here, and cling here, +till rain, and hail, and lightning and storm, ruining on me, make me +one in substance with them below.” + +In a few words I must conclude this tragedy. I was obliged to leave +London, and Adrian undertook to watch over him; the task was soon +fulfilled; age, grief, and inclement weather, all united to hush his +sorrows, and bring repose to his heart, whose beats were agony. He died +embracing the sod, which was piled above his breast, when he was placed +beside the beings whom he regretted with such wild despair. + +I returned to Windsor at the wish of Idris, who seemed to think that +there was greater safety for her children at that spot; and because, +once having taken on me the guardianship of the district, I would not +desert it while an inhabitant survived. I went also to act in +conformity with Adrian’s plans, which was to congregate in masses what +remained of the population; for he possessed the conviction that it was +only through the benevolent and social virtues that any safety was to +be hoped for the remnant of mankind. + +It was a melancholy thing to return to this spot so dear to us, as the +scene of a happiness rarely before enjoyed, here to mark the extinction +of our species, and trace the deep uneraseable footsteps of disease +over the fertile and cherished soil. The aspect of the country had so +far changed, that it had been impossible to enter on the task of sowing +seed, and other autumnal labours. That season was now gone; and winter +had set in with sudden and unusual severity. Alternate frosts and thaws +succeeding to floods, rendered the country impassable. Heavy falls of +snow gave an arctic appearance to the scenery; the roofs of the houses +peeped from the white mass; the lowly cot and stately mansion, alike +deserted, were blocked up, their thresholds uncleared; the windows were +broken by the hail, while the prevalence of a north-east wind rendered +out-door exertions extremely painful. The altered state of society made +these accidents of nature, sources of real misery. The luxury of +command and the attentions of servitude were lost. It is true that the +necessaries of life were assembled in such quantities, as to supply to +superfluity the wants of the diminished population; but still much +labour was required to arrange these, as it were, raw materials; and +depressed by sickness, and fearful of the future, we had not energy to +enter boldly and decidedly on any system. + +I can speak for myself—want of energy was not my failing. The intense +life that quickened my pulses, and animated my frame, had the effect, +not of drawing me into the mazes of active life, but of exalting my +lowliness, and of bestowing majestic proportions on insignificant +objects—I could have lived the life of a peasant in the same way—my +trifling occupations were swelled into important pursuits; my +affections were impetuous and engrossing passions, and nature with all +her changes was invested in divine attributes. The very spirit of the +Greek mythology inhabited my heart; I deified the uplands, glades, and +streams, I + +Had sight of Proteus coming from the sea; +And heard old Triton blow his wreathed horn.[16] + + +Strange, that while the earth preserved her monotonous course, I dwelt +with ever-renewing wonder on her antique laws, and now that with +excentric wheel she rushed into an untried path, I should feel this +spirit fade; I struggled with despondency and weariness, but like a +fog, they choked me. Perhaps, after the labours and stupendous +excitement of the past summer, the calm of winter and the almost menial +toils it brought with it, were by natural re-action doubly irksome. It +was not the grasping passion of the preceding year, which gave life and +individuality to each moment—it was not the aching pangs induced by the +distresses of the times. The utter inutility that had attended all my +exertions took from them their usual effects of exhilaration, and +despair rendered abortive the balm of self applause—I longed to return +to my old occupations, but of what use were they? To read were +futile—to write, vanity indeed. The earth, late wide circus for the +display of dignified exploits, vast theatre for a magnificent drama, +now presented a vacant space, an empty stage—for actor or spectator +there was no longer aught to say or hear. + +Our little town of Windsor, in which the survivors from the +neighbouring counties were chiefly assembled, wore a melancholy aspect. +Its streets were blocked up with snow—the few passengers seemed +palsied, and frozen by the ungenial visitation of winter. To escape +these evils was the aim and scope of all our exertions. Families late +devoted to exalting and refined pursuits, rich, blooming, and young, +with diminished numbers and care-fraught hearts, huddled over a fire, +grown selfish and grovelling through suffering. Without the aid of +servants, it was necessary to discharge all household duties; hands +unused to such labour must knead the bread, or in the absence of flour, +the statesmen or perfumed courtier must undertake the butcher’s office. +Poor and rich were now equal, or rather the poor were the superior, +since they entered on such tasks with alacrity and experience; while +ignorance, inaptitude, and habits of repose, rendered them fatiguing to +the luxurious, galling to the proud, disgustful to all whose minds, +bent on intellectual improvement, held it their dearest privilege to be +exempt from attending to mere animal wants. + +But in every change goodness and affection can find field for exertion +and display. Among some these changes produced a devotion and sacrifice +of self at once graceful and heroic. It was a sight for the lovers of +the human race to enjoy; to behold, as in ancient times, the +patriarchal modes in which the variety of kindred and friendship +fulfilled their duteous and kindly offices. Youths, nobles of the land, +performed for the sake of mother or sister, the services of menials +with amiable cheerfulness. They went to the river to break the ice, and +draw water: they assembled on foraging expeditions, or axe in hand +felled the trees for fuel. The females received them on their return +with the simple and affectionate welcome known before only to the lowly +cottage—a clean hearth and bright fire; the supper ready cooked by +beloved hands; gratitude for the provision for to-morrow’s meal: +strange enjoyments for the high-born English, yet they were now their +sole, hard earned, and dearly prized luxuries. + +None was more conspicuous for this graceful submission to +circumstances, noble humility, and ingenious fancy to adorn such acts +with romantic colouring, than our own Clara. She saw my despondency, +and the aching cares of Idris. Her perpetual study was to relieve us +from labour and to spread ease and even elegance over our altered mode +of life. We still had some attendants spared by disease, and warmly +attached to us. But Clara was jealous of their services; she would be +sole handmaid of Idris, sole minister to the wants of her little +cousins; nothing gave her so much pleasure as our employing her in this +way; she went beyond our desires, earnest, diligent, and unwearied,— + +Abra was ready ere we called her name, +And though we called another, Abra came.[17] + + +It was my task each day to visit the various families assembled in our +town, and when the weather permitted, I was glad to prolong my ride, +and to muse in solitude over every changeful appearance of our destiny, +endeavouring to gather lessons for the future from the experience of +the past. The impatience with which, while in society, the ills that +afflicted my species inspired me, were softened by loneliness, when +individual suffering was merged in the general calamity, strange to +say, less afflicting to contemplate. Thus often, pushing my way with +difficulty through the narrow snow-blocked town, I crossed the bridge +and passed through Eton. No youthful congregation of gallant-hearted +boys thronged the portal of the college; sad silence pervaded the busy +school-room and noisy playground. I extended my ride towards Salt Hill, +on every side impeded by the snow. Were those the fertile fields I +loved—was that the interchange of gentle upland and cultivated dale, +once covered with waving corn, diversified by stately trees, watered by +the meandering Thames? One sheet of white covered it, while bitter +recollection told me that cold as the winter-clothed earth, were the +hearts of the inhabitants. I met troops of horses, herds of cattle, +flocks of sheep, wandering at will; here throwing down a hay-rick, and +nestling from cold in its heart, which afforded them shelter and +food—there having taken possession of a vacant cottage. Once on a +frosty day, pushed on by restless unsatisfying reflections, I sought a +favourite haunt, a little wood not far distant from Salt Hill. A +bubbling spring prattles over stones on one side, and a plantation of a +few elms and beeches, hardly deserve, and yet continue the name of +wood. This spot had for me peculiar charms. It had been a favourite +resort of Adrian; it was secluded; and he often said that in boyhood, +his happiest hours were spent here; having escaped the stately bondage +of his mother, he sat on the rough hewn steps that led to the spring, +now reading a favourite book, now musing, with speculation beyond his +years, on the still unravelled skein of morals or metaphysics. A +melancholy foreboding assured me that I should never see this place +more; so with careful thought, I noted each tree, every winding of the +streamlet and irregularity of the soil, that I might better call up its +idea in absence. A robin red-breast dropt from the frosty branches of +the trees, upon the congealed rivulet; its panting breast and +half-closed eyes shewed that it was dying: a hawk appeared in the air; +sudden fear seized the little creature; it exerted its last strength, +throwing itself on its back, raising its talons in impotent defence +against its powerful enemy. I took it up and placed it in my breast. I +fed it with a few crumbs from a biscuit; by degrees it revived; its +warm fluttering heart beat against me; I cannot tell why I detail this +trifling incident—but the scene is still before me; the snow-clad +fields seen through the silvered trunks of the beeches,—the brook, in +days of happiness alive with sparkling waters, now choked by ice—the +leafless trees fantastically dressed in hoar frost—the shapes of summer +leaves imaged by winter’s frozen hand on the hard ground—the dusky sky, +drear cold, and unbroken silence—while close in my bosom, my feathered +nursling lay warm, and safe, speaking its content with a light chirp— +painful reflections thronged, stirring my brain with wild +commotion—cold and death-like as the snowy fields was all +earth—misery-stricken the life-tide of the inhabitants—why should I +oppose the cataract of destruction that swept us away?—why string my +nerves and renew my wearied efforts—ah, why? But that my firm courage +and cheerful exertions might shelter the dear mate, whom I chose in the +spring of my life; though the throbbings of my heart be replete with +pain, though my hopes for the future are chill, still while your dear +head, my gentlest love, can repose in peace on that heart, and while +you derive from its fostering care, comfort, and hope, my struggles +shall not cease,—I will not call myself altogether vanquished. + +One fine February day, when the sun had reassumed some of its genial +power, I walked in the forest with my family. It was one of those +lovely winter-days which assert the capacity of nature to bestow beauty +on barrenness. The leafless trees spread their fibrous branches against +the pure sky; their intricate and pervious tracery resembled delicate +sea-weed; the deer were turning up the snow in search of the hidden +grass; the white was made intensely dazzling by the sun, and trunks of +the trees, rendered more conspicuous by the loss of preponderating +foliage, gathered around like the labyrinthine columns of a vast +temple; it was impossible not to receive pleasure from the sight of +these things. Our children, freed from the bondage of winter, bounded +before us; pursuing the deer, or rousing the pheasants and partridges +from their coverts. Idris leant on my arm; her sadness yielded to the +present sense of pleasure. We met other families on the Long Walk, +enjoying like ourselves the return of the genial season. At once, I +seemed to awake; I cast off the clinging sloth of the past months; +earth assumed a new appearance, and my view of the future was suddenly +made clear. I exclaimed, “I have now found out the secret!” + +“What secret?” + +In answer to this question, I described our gloomy winter-life, our +sordid cares, our menial labours:—“This northern country,” I said, “is +no place for our diminished race. When mankind were few, it was not +here that they battled with the powerful agents of nature, and were +enabled to cover the globe with offspring. We must seek some natural +Paradise, some garden of the earth, where our simple wants may be +easily supplied, and the enjoyment of a delicious climate compensate +for the social pleasures we have lost. If we survive this coming +summer, I will not spend the ensuing winter in England; neither I nor +any of us.” + +I spoke without much heed, and the very conclusion of what I said +brought with it other thoughts. Should we, any of us, survive the +coming summer? I saw the brow of Idris clouded; I again felt, that we +were enchained to the car of fate, over whose coursers we had no +control. We could no longer say, This we will do, and this we will +leave undone. A mightier power than the human was at hand to destroy +our plans or to achieve the work we avoided. It were madness to +calculate upon another winter. This was our last. The coming summer was +the extreme end of our vista; and, when we arrived there, instead of a +continuation of the long road, a gulph yawned, into which we must of +force be precipitated. The last blessing of humanity was wrested from +us; we might no longer hope. Can the madman, as he clanks his chains, +hope? Can the wretch, led to the scaffold, who when he lays his head on +the block, marks the double shadow of himself and the executioner, +whose uplifted arm bears the axe, hope? Can the ship-wrecked mariner, +who spent with swimming, hears close behind the splashing waters +divided by a shark which pursues him through the Atlantic, hope? Such +hope as theirs, we also may entertain! + +Old fable tells us, that this gentle spirit sprung from the box of +Pandora, else crammed with evils; but these were unseen and null, while +all admired the inspiriting loveliness of young Hope; each man’s heart +became her home; she was enthroned sovereign of our lives, here and +here-after; she was deified and worshipped, declared incorruptible and +everlasting. But like all other gifts of the Creator to Man, she is +mortal; her life has attained its last hour. We have watched over her; +nursed her flickering existence; now she has fallen at once from youth +to decrepitude, from health to immedicinable disease; even as we spend +ourselves in struggles for her recovery, she dies; to all nations the +voice goes forth, Hope is dead! We are but mourners in the funeral +train, and what immortal essence or perishable creation will refuse to +make one in the sad procession that attends to its grave the dead +comforter of humanity? + +Does not the sun call in his light? and day +Like a thin exhalation melt away— +Both wrapping up their beams in clouds to be +Themselves close mourners at this obsequie.[18] + + + [16] Wordsworth. + + + [17] Prior’s “Solomon.” + + + [18] Cleveland’s Poems. + + + + +VOL. III. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Hear you not the rushing sound of the coming tempest? Do you not behold +the clouds open, and destruction lurid and dire pour down on the +blasted earth? See you not the thunderbolt fall, and are deafened by +the shout of heaven that follows its descent? Feel you not the earth +quake and open with agonizing groans, while the air is pregnant with +shrieks and wailings,— all announcing the last days of man? No! none of +these things accompanied our fall! The balmy air of spring, breathed +from nature’s ambrosial home, invested the lovely earth, which wakened +as a young mother about to lead forth in pride her beauteous offspring +to meet their sire who had been long absent. The buds decked the trees, +the flowers adorned the land: the dark branches, swollen with +seasonable juices, expanded into leaves, and the variegated foliage of +spring, bending and singing in the breeze, rejoiced in the genial +warmth of the unclouded empyrean: the brooks flowed murmuring, the sea +was waveless, and the promontories that over-hung it were reflected in +the placid waters; birds awoke in the woods, while abundant food for +man and beast sprung up from the dark ground. Where was pain and evil? +Not in the calm air or weltering ocean; not in the woods or fertile +fields, nor among the birds that made the woods resonant with song, nor +the animals that in the midst of plenty basked in the sunshine. Our +enemy, like the Calamity of Homer, trod our hearts, and no sound was +echoed from her steps— + +With ills the land is rife, with ills the sea, +Diseases haunt our frail humanity, +Through noon, through night, on casual wing they glide, +Silent,—a voice the power all-wise denied.[19] + + +Once man was a favourite of the Creator, as the royal psalmist sang, +“God had made him a little lower than the angels, and had crowned him +with glory and honour. God made him to have dominion over the works of +his hands, and put all things under his feet.” Once it was so; now is +man lord of the creation? Look at him—ha! I see plague! She has +invested his form, is incarnate in his flesh, has entwined herself with +his being, and blinds his heaven-seeking eyes. Lie down, O man, on the +flower-strown earth; give up all claim to your inheritance, all you can +ever possess of it is the small cell which the dead require. Plague is +the companion of spring, of sunshine, and plenty. We no longer struggle +with her. We have forgotten what we did when she was not. Of old navies +used to stem the giant ocean-waves betwixt Indus and the Pole for +slight articles of luxury. Men made perilous journies to possess +themselves of earth’s splendid trifles, gems and gold. Human labour was +wasted—human life set at nought. Now life is all that we covet; that +this automaton of flesh should, with joints and springs in order, +perform its functions, that this dwelling of the soul should be capable +of containing its dweller. Our minds, late spread abroad through +countless spheres and endless combinations of thought, now retrenched +themselves behind this wall of flesh, eager to preserve its well-being +only. We were surely sufficiently degraded. + +At first the increase of sickness in spring brought increase of toil to +such of us, who, as yet spared to life, bestowed our time and thoughts +on our fellow creatures. We nerved ourselves to the task: “in the midst +of despair we performed the tasks of hope.” We went out with the +resolution of disputing with our foe. We aided the sick, and comforted +the sorrowing; turning from the multitudinous dead to the rare +survivors, with an energy of desire that bore the resemblance of power, +we bade them—live. Plague sat paramount the while, and laughed us to +scorn. + +Have any of you, my readers, observed the ruins of an anthill +immediately after its destruction? At first it appears entirely +deserted of its former inhabitants; in a little time you see an ant +struggling through the upturned mould; they reappear by twos and +threes, running hither and thither in search of their lost companions. +Such were we upon earth, wondering aghast at the effects of pestilence. +Our empty habitations remained, but the dwellers were gathered to the +shades of the tomb. + +As the rules of order and pressure of laws were lost, some began with +hesitation and wonder to transgress the accustomed uses of society. +Palaces were deserted, and the poor man dared at length, unreproved, +intrude into the splendid apartments, whose very furniture and +decorations were an unknown world to him. It was found, that, though at +first the stop put to all circulation of property, had reduced those +before supported by the factitious wants of society to sudden and +hideous poverty, yet when the boundaries of private possession were +thrown down, the products of human labour at present existing were +more, far more, than the thinned generation could possibly consume. To +some among the poor this was matter of exultation. We were all equal +now; magnificent dwellings, luxurious carpets, and beds of down, were +afforded to all. Carriages and horses, gardens, pictures, statues, and +princely libraries, there were enough of these even to superfluity; and +there was nothing to prevent each from assuming possession of his +share. We were all equal now; but near at hand was an equality still +more levelling, a state where beauty and strength, and wisdom, would be +as vain as riches and birth. The grave yawned beneath us all, and its +prospect prevented any of us from enjoying the ease and plenty which in +so awful a manner was presented to us. + +Still the bloom did not fade on the cheeks of my babes; and Clara +sprung up in years and growth, unsullied by disease. We had no reason +to think the site of Windsor Castle peculiarly healthy, for many other +families had expired beneath its roof; we lived therefore without any +particular precaution; but we lived, it seemed, in safety. If Idris +became thin and pale, it was anxiety that occasioned the change; an +anxiety I could in no way alleviate. She never complained, but sleep +and appetite fled from her, a slow fever preyed on her veins, her +colour was hectic, and she often wept in secret; gloomy +prognostications, care, and agonizing dread, ate up the principle of +life within her. I could not fail to perceive this change. I often +wished that I had permitted her to take her own course, and engage +herself in such labours for the welfare of others as might have +distracted her thoughts. But it was too late now. Besides that, with +the nearly extinct race of man, all our toils grew near a conclusion, +she was too weak; consumption, if so it might be called, or rather the +over active life within her, which, as with Adrian, spent the vital oil +in the early morning hours, deprived her limbs of strength. At night, +when she could leave me unperceived, she wandered through the house, or +hung over the couches of her children; and in the day time would sink +into a perturbed sleep, while her murmurs and starts betrayed the +unquiet dreams that vexed her. As this state of wretchedness became +more confirmed, and, in spite of her endeavours at concealment more +apparent, I strove, though vainly, to awaken in her courage and hope. I +could not wonder at the vehemence of her care; her very soul was +tenderness; she trusted indeed that she should not outlive me if I +became the prey of the vast calamity, and this thought sometimes +relieved her. We had for many years trod the highway of life hand in +hand, and still thus linked, we might step within the shades of death; +but her children, her lovely, playful, animated children—beings sprung +from her own dear side—portions of her own being—depositories of our +loves—even if we died, it would be comfort to know that they ran man’s +accustomed course. But it would not be so; young and blooming as they +were, they would die, and from the hopes of maturity, from the proud +name of attained manhood, they were cut off for ever. Often with +maternal affection she had figured their merits and talents exerted on +life’s wide stage. Alas for these latter days! The world had grown old, +and all its inmates partook of the decrepitude. Why talk of infancy, +manhood, and old age? We all stood equal sharers of the last throes of +time-worn nature. Arrived at the same point of the world’s age—there +was no difference in us; the name of parent and child had lost their +meaning; young boys and girls were level now with men. This was all +true; but it was not less agonizing to take the admonition home. + +Where could we turn, and not find a desolation pregnant with the dire +lesson of example? The fields had been left uncultivated, weeds and +gaudy flowers sprung up,—or where a few wheat-fields shewed signs of +the living hopes of the husbandman, the work had been left halfway, the +ploughman had died beside the plough; the horses had deserted the +furrow, and no seedsman had approached the dead; the cattle unattended +wandered over the fields and through the lanes; the tame inhabitants of +the poultry yard, baulked of their daily food, had become wild—young +lambs were dropt in flower-gardens, and the cow stalled in the hall of +pleasure. Sickly and few, the country people neither went out to sow +nor reap; but sauntered about the meadows, or lay under the hedges, +when the inclement sky did not drive them to take shelter under the +nearest roof. Many of those who remained, secluded themselves; some had +laid up stores which should prevent the necessity of leaving their +homes;—some deserted wife and child, and imagined that they secured +their safety in utter solitude. Such had been Ryland’s plan, and he was +discovered dead and half-devoured by insects, in a house many miles +from any other, with piles of food laid up in useless superfluity. +Others made long journies to unite themselves to those they loved, and +arrived to find them dead. + +London did not contain above a thousand inhabitants; and this number +was continually diminishing. Most of them were country people, come up +for the sake of change; the Londoners had sought the country. The busy +eastern part of the town was silent, or at most you saw only where, +half from cupidity, half from curiosity, the warehouses had been more +ransacked than pillaged: bales of rich India goods, shawls of price, +jewels, and spices, unpacked, strewed the floors. In some places the +possessor had to the last kept watch on his store, and died before the +barred gates. The massy portals of the churches swung creaking on their +hinges; and some few lay dead on the pavement. The wretched female, +loveless victim of vulgar brutality, had wandered to the toilet of +high-born beauty, and, arraying herself in the garb of splendour, had +died before the mirror which reflected to herself alone her altered +appearance. Women whose delicate feet had seldom touched the earth in +their luxury, had fled in fright and horror from their homes, till, +losing themselves in the squalid streets of the metropolis, they had +died on the threshold of poverty. The heart sickened at the variety of +misery presented; and, when I saw a specimen of this gloomy change, my +soul ached with the fear of what might befall my beloved Idris and my +babes. Were they, surviving Adrian and myself, to find themselves +protectorless in the world? As yet the mind alone had suffered—could I +for ever put off the time, when the delicate frame and shrinking nerves +of my child of prosperity, the nursling of rank and wealth, who was my +companion, should be invaded by famine, hardship, and disease? Better +die at once—better plunge a poinard in her bosom, still untouched by +drear adversity, and then again sheathe it in my own! But, no; in times +of misery we must fight against our destinies, and strive not to be +overcome by them. I would not yield, but to the last gasp resolutely +defended my dear ones against sorrow and pain; and if I were vanquished +at last, it should not be ingloriously. I stood in the gap, resisting +the enemy—the impalpable, invisible foe, who had so long besieged us—as +yet he had made no breach: it must be my care that he should not, +secretly undermining, burst up within the very threshold of the temple +of love, at whose altar I daily sacrificed. The hunger of Death was now +stung more sharply by the diminution of his food: or was it that +before, the survivors being many, the dead were less eagerly counted? +Now each life was a gem, each human breathing form of far, O! far more +worth than subtlest imagery of sculptured stone; and the daily, nay, +hourly decrease visible in our numbers, visited the heart with +sickening misery. This summer extinguished our hopes, the vessel of +society was wrecked, and the shattered raft, which carried the few +survivors over the sea of misery, was riven and tempest tost. Man +existed by twos and threes; man, the individual who might sleep, and +wake, and perform the animal functions; but man, in himself weak, yet +more powerful in congregated numbers than wind or ocean; man, the +queller of the elements, the lord of created nature, the peer of +demi-gods, existed no longer. + +Farewell to the patriotic scene, to the love of liberty and well earned +meed of virtuous aspiration!—farewell to crowded senate, vocal with the +councils of the wise, whose laws were keener than the sword blade +tempered at Damascus!—farewell to kingly pomp and warlike pageantry; +the crowns are in the dust, and the wearers are in their +graves!—farewell to the desire of rule, and the hope of victory; to +high vaulting ambition, to the appetite for praise, and the craving for +the suffrage of their fellows! The nations are no longer! No senate +sits in council for the dead; no scion of a time honoured dynasty pants +to rule over the inhabitants of a charnel house; the general’s hand is +cold, and the soldier has his untimely grave dug in his native fields, +unhonoured, though in youth. The market-place is empty, the candidate +for popular favour finds none whom he can represent. To chambers of +painted state farewell!—To midnight revelry, and the panting emulation +of beauty, to costly dress and birth-day shew, to title and the gilded +coronet, farewell! + +Farewell to the giant powers of man,—to knowledge that could pilot the +deep-drawing bark through the opposing waters of shoreless ocean,—to +science that directed the silken balloon through the pathless air,—to +the power that could put a barrier to mighty waters, and set in motion +wheels, and beams, and vast machinery, that could divide rocks of +granite or marble, and make the mountains plain! + +Farewell to the arts,—to eloquence, which is to the human mind as the +winds to the sea, stirring, and then allaying it;—farewell to poetry +and deep philosophy, for man’s imagination is cold, and his enquiring +mind can no longer expatiate on the wonders of life, for “there is no +work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, whither thou +goest!”—to the graceful building, which in its perfect proportion +transcended the rude forms of nature, the fretted gothic and massy +saracenic pile, to the stupendous arch and glorious dome, the fluted +column with its capital, Corinthian, Ionic, or Doric, the peristyle and +fair entablature, whose harmony of form is to the eye as musical +concord to the ear!—farewell to sculpture, where the pure marble mocks +human flesh, and in the plastic expression of the culled excellencies +of the human shape, shines forth the god!—farewell to painting, the +high wrought sentiment and deep knowledge of the artists’s mind in +pictured canvas—to paradisaical scenes, where trees are ever vernal, +and the ambrosial air rests in perpetual glow:—to the stamped form of +tempest, and wildest uproar of universal nature encaged in the narrow +frame, O farewell! Farewell to music, and the sound of song; to the +marriage of instruments, where the concord of soft and harsh unites in +sweet harmony, and gives wings to the panting listeners, whereby to +climb heaven, and learn the hidden pleasures of the eternals!—Farewell +to the well-trod stage; a truer tragedy is enacted on the world’s ample +scene, that puts to shame mimic grief: to high-bred comedy, and the low +buffoon, farewell!—Man may laugh no more. Alas! to enumerate the +adornments of humanity, shews, by what we have lost, how supremely +great man was. It is all over now. He is solitary; like our first +parents expelled from Paradise, he looks back towards the scene he has +quitted. The high walls of the tomb, and the flaming sword of plague, +lie between it and him. Like to our first parents, the whole earth is +before him, a wide desart. Unsupported and weak, let him wander through +fields where the unreaped corn stands in barren plenty, through copses +planted by his fathers, through towns built for his use. Posterity is +no more; fame, and ambition, and love, are words void of meaning; even +as the cattle that grazes in the field, do thou, O deserted one, lie +down at evening-tide, unknowing of the past, careless of the future, +for from such fond ignorance alone canst thou hope for ease! + +Joy paints with its own colours every act and thought. The happy do not +feel poverty—for delight is as a gold-tissued robe, and crowns them +with priceless gems. Enjoyment plays the cook to their homely fare, and +mingles intoxication with their simple drink. Joy strews the hard couch +with roses, and makes labour ease. + +Sorrow doubles the burthen to the bent-down back; plants thorns in the +unyielding pillow; mingles gall with water; adds saltness to their +bitter bread; cloathing them in rags, and strewing ashes on their bare +heads. To our irremediable distress every small and pelting +inconvenience came with added force; we had strung our frames to endure +the Atlean weight thrown on us; we sank beneath the added feather +chance threw on us, “the grasshopper was a burthen.” Many of the +survivors had been bred in luxury—their servants were gone, their +powers of command vanished like unreal shadows: the poor even suffered +various privations; and the idea of another winter like the last, +brought affright to our minds. Was it not enough that we must die, but +toil must be added?—must we prepare our funeral repast with labour, and +with unseemly drudgery heap fuel on our deserted hearths —must we with +servile hands fabricate the garments, soon to be our shroud? + +Not so! We are presently to die, let us then enjoy to its full relish +the remnant of our lives. Sordid care, avaunt! menial labours, and +pains, slight in themselves, but too gigantic for our exhausted +strength, shall make no part of our ephemeral existences. In the +beginning of time, when, as now, man lived by families, and not by +tribes or nations, they were placed in a genial clime, where earth fed +them untilled, and the balmy air enwrapt their reposing limbs with +warmth more pleasant than beds of down. The south is the native place +of the human race; the land of fruits, more grateful to man than the +hard-earned Ceres of the north,—of trees, whose boughs are as a +palace-roof, of couches of roses, and of the thirst-appeasing grape. We +need not there fear cold and hunger. + +Look at England! the grass shoots up high in the meadows; but they are +dank and cold, unfit bed for us. Corn we have none, and the crude +fruits cannot support us. We must seek firing in the bowels of the +earth, or the unkind atmosphere will fill us with rheums and aches. The +labour of hundreds of thousands alone could make this inclement nook +fit habitation for one man. To the south then, to the sun!—where nature +is kind, where Jove has showered forth the contents of Amalthea’s horn, +and earth is garden. + +England, late birth-place of excellence and school of the wise, thy +children are gone, thy glory faded! Thou, England, wert the triumph of +man! Small favour was shewn thee by thy Creator, thou Isle of the +North; a ragged canvas naturally, painted by man with alien colours; +but the hues he gave are faded, never more to be renewed. So we must +leave thee, thou marvel of the world; we must bid farewell to thy +clouds, and cold, and scarcity for ever! Thy manly hearts are still; +thy tale of power and liberty at its close! Bereft of man, O little +isle! the ocean waves will buffet thee, and the raven flap his wings +over thee; thy soil will be birth-place of weeds, thy sky will canopy +barrenness. It was not for the rose of Persia thou wert famous, nor the +banana of the east; not for the spicy gales of India, nor the sugar +groves of America; not for thy vines nor thy double harvests, nor for +thy vernal airs, nor solstitial sun—but for thy children, their +unwearied industry and lofty aspiration. They are gone, and thou goest +with them the oft trodden path that leads to oblivion, — + +Farewell, sad Isle, farewell, thy fatal glory +Is summed, cast up, and cancelled in this story.[20] + + + [19] Elton’s translation of Hesiod. + + + [20] Cleveland’s Poems. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +In the autumn of this year 2096, the spirit of emigration crept in +among the few survivors, who, congregating from various parts of +England, met in London. This spirit existed as a breath, a wish, a far +off thought, until communicated to Adrian, who imbibed it with ardour, +and instantly engaged himself in plans for its execution. The fear of +immediate death vanished with the heats of September. Another winter +was before us, and we might elect our mode of passing it to the best +advantage. Perhaps in rational philosophy none could be better chosen +than this scheme of migration, which would draw us from the immediate +scene of our woe, and, leading us through pleasant and picturesque +countries, amuse for a time our despair. The idea once broached, all +were impatient to put it in execution. + +We were still at Windsor; our renewed hopes medicined the anguish we +had suffered from the late tragedies. The death of many of our inmates +had weaned us from the fond idea, that Windsor Castle was a spot sacred +from the plague; but our lease of life was renewed for some months, and +even Idris lifted her head, as a lily after a storm, when a last +sunbeam tinges its silver cup. Just at this time Adrian came down to +us; his eager looks shewed us that he was full of some scheme. He +hastened to take me aside, and disclosed to me with rapidity his plan +of emigration from England. + +To leave England for ever! to turn from its polluted fields and groves, +and, placing the sea between us, to quit it, as a sailor quits the rock +on which he has been wrecked, when the saving ship rides by. Such was +his plan. + +To leave the country of our fathers, made holy by their graves!—We +could not feel even as a voluntary exile of old, who might for pleasure +or convenience forsake his native soil; though thousands of miles might +divide him, England was still a part of him, as he of her. He heard of +the passing events of the day; he knew that, if he returned, and +resumed his place in society, the entrance was still open, and it +required but the will, to surround himself at once with the +associations and habits of boyhood. Not so with us, the remnant. We +left none to represent us, none to repeople the desart land, and the +name of England died, when we left her, + +In vagabond pursuit of dreadful safety. + + +Yet let us go! England is in her shroud,—we may not enchain ourselves +to a corpse. Let us go—the world is our country now, and we will choose +for our residence its most fertile spot. Shall we, in these desart +halls, under this wintry sky, sit with closed eyes and folded hands, +expecting death? Let us rather go out to meet it gallantly: or +perhaps—for all this pendulous orb, this fair gem in the sky’s diadem, +is not surely plague-striken—perhaps, in some secluded nook, amidst +eternal spring, and waving trees, and purling streams, we may find +Life. The world is vast, and England, though her many fields and wide +spread woods seem interminable, is but a small part of her. At the +close of a day’s march over high mountains and through snowy vallies, +we may come upon health, and committing our loved ones to its charge, +replant the uprooted tree of humanity, and send to late posterity the +tale of the ante-pestilential race, the heroes and sages of the lost +state of things. + +Hope beckons and sorrow urges us, the heart beats high with +expectation, and this eager desire of change must be an omen of +success. O come! Farewell to the dead! farewell to the tombs of those +we loved!—farewell to giant London and the placid Thames, to river and +mountain or fair district, birth-place of the wise and good, to Windsor +Forest and its antique castle, farewell! themes for story alone are +they,—we must live elsewhere. + +Such were in part the arguments of Adrian, uttered with enthusiasm and +unanswerable rapidity. Something more was in his heart, to which he +dared not give words. He felt that the end of time was come; he knew +that one by one we should dwindle into nothingness. It was not +adviseable to wait this sad consummation in our native country; but +travelling would give us our object for each day, that would distract +our thoughts from the swift-approaching end of things. If we went to +Italy, to sacred and eternal Rome, we might with greater patience +submit to the decree, which had laid her mighty towers low. We might +lose our selfish grief in the sublime aspect of its desolation. All +this was in the mind of Adrian; but he thought of my children, and, +instead of communicating to me these resources of despair, he called up +the image of health and life to be found, where we knew not—when we +knew not; but if never to be found, for ever and for ever to be sought. +He won me over to his party, heart and soul. + +It devolved on me to disclose our plan to Idris. The images of health +and hope which I presented to her, made her with a smile consent. With +a smile she agreed to leave her country, from which she had never +before been absent, and the spot she had inhabited from infancy; the +forest and its mighty trees, the woodland paths and green recesses, +where she had played in childhood, and had lived so happily through +youth; she would leave them without regret, for she hoped to purchase +thus the lives of her children. They were her life; dearer than a spot +consecrated to love, dearer than all else the earth contained. The boys +heard with childish glee of our removal: Clara asked if we were to go +to Athens. “It is possible,” I replied; and her countenance became +radiant with pleasure. There she would behold the tomb of her parents, +and the territory filled with recollections of her father’s glory. In +silence, but without respite, she had brooded over these scenes. It was +the recollection of them that had turned her infant gaiety to +seriousness, and had impressed her with high and restless thoughts. + +There were many dear friends whom we must not leave behind, humble +though they were. There was the spirited and obedient steed which Lord +Raymond had given his daughter; there was Alfred’s dog and a pet eagle, +whose sight was dimmed through age. But this catalogue of favourites to +be taken with us, could not be made without grief to think of our heavy +losses, and a deep sigh for the many things we must leave behind. The +tears rushed into the eyes of Idris, while Alfred and Evelyn brought +now a favourite rose tree, now a marble vase beautifully carved, +insisting that these must go, and exclaiming on the pity that we could +not take the castle and the forest, the deer and the birds, and all +accustomed and cherished objects along with us. “Fond and foolish +ones,” I said, “we have lost for ever treasures far more precious than +these; and we desert them, to preserve treasures to which in comparison +they are nothing. Let us not for a moment forget our object and our +hope; and they will form a resistless mound to stop the overflowing of +our regret for trifles.” + +The children were easily distracted, and again returned to their +prospect of future amusement. Idris had disappeared. She had gone to +hide her weakness; escaping from the castle, she had descended to the +little park, and sought solitude, that she might there indulge her +tears; I found her clinging round an old oak, pressing its rough trunk +with her roseate lips, as her tears fell plenteously, and her sobs and +broken exclamations could not be suppressed; with surpassing grief I +beheld this loved one of my heart thus lost in sorrow! I drew her +towards me; and, as she felt my kisses on her eyelids, as she felt my +arms press her, she revived to the knowledge of what remained to her. +“You are very kind not to reproach me,” she said: “I weep, and a bitter +pang of intolerable sorrow tears my heart. And yet I am happy; mothers +lament their children, wives lose their husbands, while you and my +children are left to me. Yes, I am happy, most happy, that I can weep +thus for imaginary sorrows, and that the slight loss of my adored +country is not dwindled and annihilated in mightier misery. Take me +where you will; where you and my children are, there shall be Windsor, +and every country will be England to me. Let these tears flow not for +myself, happy and ungrateful as I am, but for the dead world—for our +lost country—for all of love, and life, and joy, now choked in the +dusty chambers of death.” + +She spoke quickly, as if to convince herself; she turned her eyes from +the trees and forest-paths she loved; she hid her face in my bosom, and +we— yes, _my_ masculine firmness dissolved—we wept together consolatory +tears, and then calm—nay, almost cheerful, we returned to the castle. + +The first cold weather of an English October, made us hasten our +preparations. I persuaded Idris to go up to London, where she might +better attend to necessary arrangements. I did not tell her, that to +spare her the pang of parting from inanimate objects, now the only +things left, I had resolved that we should none of us return to +Windsor. For the last time we looked on the wide extent of country +visible from the terrace, and saw the last rays of the sun tinge the +dark masses of wood variegated by autumnal tints; the uncultivated +fields and smokeless cottages lay in shadow below; the Thames wound +through the wide plain, and the venerable pile of Eton college, stood +in dark relief, a prominent object; the cawing of the myriad rooks +which inhabited the trees of the little park, as in column or thick +wedge they speeded to their nests, disturbed the silence of evening. +Nature was the same, as when she was the kind mother of the human race; +now, childless and forlorn, her fertility was a mockery; her loveliness +a mask for deformity. Why should the breeze gently stir the trees, man +felt not its refreshment? Why did dark night adorn herself with +stars—man saw them not? Why are there fruits, or flowers, or streams, +man is not here to enjoy them? + +Idris stood beside me, her dear hand locked in mine. Her face was +radiant with a smile.—“The sun is alone,” she said, “but we are not. A +strange star, my Lionel, ruled our birth; sadly and with dismay we may +look upon the annihilation of man; but we remain for each other. Did I +ever in the wide world seek other than thee? And since in the wide +world thou remainest, why should I complain? Thou and nature are still +true to me. Beneath the shades of night, and through the day, whose +garish light displays our solitude, thou wilt still be at my side, and +even Windsor will not be regretted.” + +I had chosen night time for our journey to London, that the change and +desolation of the country might be the less observable. Our only +surviving servant drove us. We past down the steep hill, and entered +the dusky avenue of the Long Walk. At times like these, minute +circumstances assume giant and majestic proportions; the very swinging +open of the white gate that admitted us into the forest, arrested my +thoughts as matter of interest; it was an every day act, never to occur +again! The setting crescent of the moon glittered through the massy +trees to our right, and when we entered the park, we scared a troop of +deer, that fled bounding away in the forest shades. Our two boys +quietly slept; once, before our road turned from the view, I looked +back on the castle. Its windows glistened in the moonshine, and its +heavy outline lay in a dark mass against the sky—the trees near us +waved a solemn dirge to the midnight breeze. Idris leaned back in the +carriage; her two hands pressed mine, her countenance was placid, she +seemed to lose the sense of what she now left, in the memory of what +she still possessed. + +My thoughts were sad and solemn, yet not of unmingled pain. The very +excess of our misery carried a relief with it, giving sublimity and +elevation to sorrow. I felt that I carried with me those I best loved; +I was pleased, after a long separation to rejoin Adrian; never again to +part. I felt that I quitted what I loved, not what loved me. The castle +walls, and long familiar trees, did not hear the parting sound of our +carriage-wheels with regret. And, while I felt Idris to be near, and +heard the regular breathing of my children, I could not be unhappy. +Clara was greatly moved; with streaming eyes, suppressing her sobs, she +leaned from the window, watching the last glimpse of her native +Windsor. + +Adrian welcomed us on our arrival. He was all animation; you could no +longer trace in his look of health, the suffering valetudinarian; from +his smile and sprightly tones you could not guess that he was about to +lead forth from their native country, the numbered remnant of the +English nation, into the tenantless realms of the south, there to die, +one by one, till the LAST MAN should remain in a voiceless, empty +world. + +Adrian was impatient for our departure, and had advanced far in his +preparations. His wisdom guided all. His care was the soul, to move the +luckless crowd, who relied wholly on him. It was useless to provide +many things, for we should find abundant provision in every town. It +was Adrian’s wish to prevent all labour; to bestow a festive appearance +on this funeral train. Our numbers amounted to not quite two thousand +persons. These were not all assembled in London, but each day witnessed +the arrival of fresh numbers, and those who resided in the neighbouring +towns, had received orders to assemble at one place, on the twentieth +of November. Carriages and horses were provided for all; captains and +under officers chosen, and the whole assemblage wisely organized. All +obeyed the Lord Protector of dying England; all looked up to him. His +council was chosen, it consisted of about fifty persons. Distinction +and station were not the qualifications of their election. We had no +station among us, but that which benevolence and prudence gave; no +distinction save between the living and the dead. Although we were +anxious to leave England before the depth of winter, yet we were +detained. Small parties had been dispatched to various parts of +England, in search of stragglers; we would not go, until we had assured +ourselves that in all human probability we did not leave behind a +single human being. + +On our arrival in London, we found that the aged Countess of Windsor +was residing with her son in the palace of the Protectorate; we +repaired to our accustomed abode near Hyde Park. Idris now for the +first time for many years saw her mother, anxious to assure herself +that the childishness of old age did not mingle with unforgotten pride, +to make this high-born dame still so inveterate against me. Age and +care had furrowed her cheeks, and bent her form; but her eye was still +bright, her manners authoritative and unchanged; she received her +daughter coldly, but displayed more feeling as she folded her +grand-children in her arms. It is our nature to wish to continue our +systems and thoughts to posterity through our own offspring. The +Countess had failed in this design with regard to her children; perhaps +she hoped to find the next remove in birth more tractable. Once Idris +named me casually—a frown, a convulsive gesture of anger, shook her +mother, and, with voice trembling with hate, she said—“I am of little +worth in this world; the young are impatient to push the old off the +scene; but, Idris, if you do not wish to see your mother expire at your +feet, never again name that person to me; all else I can bear; and now +I am resigned to the destruction of my cherished hopes: but it is too +much to require that I should love the instrument that providence +gifted with murderous properties for my destruction.” + +This was a strange speech, now that, on the empty stage, each might +play his part without impediment from the other. But the haughty +Ex-Queen thought as Octavius Cæsar and Mark Antony, + +We could not stall together +In the whole world. + + +The period of our departure was fixed for the twenty-fifth of November. +The weather was temperate; soft rains fell at night, and by day the +wintry sun shone out. Our numbers were to move forward in separate +parties, and to go by different routes, all to unite at last at Paris. +Adrian and his division, consisting in all of five hundred persons, +were to take the direction of Dover and Calais. On the twentieth of +November, Adrian and I rode for the last time through the streets of +London. They were grass-grown and desert. The open doors of the empty +mansions creaked upon their hinges; rank herbage, and deforming dirt, +had swiftly accumulated on the steps of the houses; the voiceless +steeples of the churches pierced the smokeless air; the churches were +open, but no prayer was offered at the altars; mildew and damp had +already defaced their ornaments; birds, and tame animals, now homeless, +had built nests, and made their lairs in consecrated spots. We passed +St. Paul’s. London, which had extended so far in suburbs in all +direction, had been somewhat deserted in the midst, and much of what +had in former days obscured this vast building was removed. Its +ponderous mass, blackened stone, and high dome, made it look, not like +a temple, but a tomb. Methought above the portico was engraved the _Hic +jacet_ of England. We passed on eastwards, engaged in such solemn talk +as the times inspired. No human step was heard, nor human form +discerned. Troops of dogs, deserted of their masters, passed us; and +now and then a horse, unbridled and unsaddled, trotted towards us, and +tried to attract the attention of those which we rode, as if to allure +them to seek like liberty. An unwieldy ox, who had fed in an abandoned +granary, suddenly lowed, and shewed his shapeless form in a narrow +door-way; every thing was desert; but nothing was in ruin. And this +medley of undamaged buildings, and luxurious accommodation, in trim and +fresh youth, was contrasted with the lonely silence of the unpeopled +streets. + +Night closed in, and it began to rain. We were about to return +homewards, when a voice, a human voice, strange now to hear, attracted +our attention. It was a child singing a merry, lightsome air; there was +no other sound. We had traversed London from Hyde Park even to where we +now were in the Minories, and had met no person, heard no voice nor +footstep. The singing was interrupted by laughing and talking; never +was merry ditty so sadly timed, never laughter more akin to tears. The +door of the house from which these sounds proceeded was open, the upper +rooms were illuminated as for a feast. It was a large magnificent +house, in which doubtless some rich merchant had lived. The singing +again commenced, and rang through the high-roofed rooms, while we +silently ascended the stair-case. Lights now appeared to guide us; and +a long suite of splendid rooms illuminated, made us still more wonder. +Their only inhabitant, a little girl, was dancing, waltzing, and +singing about them, followed by a large Newfoundland dog, who +boisterously jumping on her, and interrupting her, made her now scold, +now laugh, now throw herself on the carpet to play with him. She was +dressed grotesquely, in glittering robes and shawls fit for a woman; +she appeared about ten years of age. We stood at the door looking on +this strange scene, till the dog perceiving us barked loudly; the child +turned and saw us: her face, losing its gaiety, assumed a sullen +expression: she slunk back, apparently meditating an escape. I came up +to her, and held her hand; she did not resist, but with a stern brow, +so strange in childhood, so different from her former hilarity, she +stood still, her eyes fixed on the ground. “What do you do here?” I +said gently; “Who are you?”—she was silent, but trembled violently.—“My +poor child,” asked Adrian, “are you alone?” There was a winning +softness in his voice, that went to the heart of the little girl; she +looked at him, then snatching her hand from me, threw herself into his +arms, clinging round his neck, ejaculating—“Save me! save me!” while +her unnatural sullenness dissolved in tears. + +“I will save you,” he replied, “of what are you afraid? you need not +fear my friend, he will do you no harm. Are you alone?” + +“No, Lion is with me.” + +“And your father and mother?—” + +“I never had any; I am a charity girl. Every body is gone, gone for a +great, great many days; but if they come back and find me out, they +will beat me so!” + +Her unhappy story was told in these few words: an orphan, taken on +pretended charity, ill-treated and reviled, her oppressors had died: +unknowing of what had passed around her, she found herself alone; she +had not dared venture out, but by the continuance of her solitude her +courage revived, her childish vivacity caused her to play a thousand +freaks, and with her brute companion she passed a long holiday, fearing +nothing but the return of the harsh voices and cruel usage of her +protectors. She readily consented to go with Adrian. + +In the mean time, while we descanted on alien sorrows, and on a +solitude which struck our eyes and not our hearts, while we imagined +all of change and suffering that had intervened in these once thronged +streets, before, tenantless and abandoned, they became mere kennels for +dogs, and stables for cattle:—while we read the death of the world upon +the dark fane, and hugged ourselves in the remembrance that we +possessed that which was all the world to us—in the meanwhile—- + +We had arrived from Windsor early in October, and had now been in +London about six weeks. Day by day, during that time, the health of my +Idris declined: her heart was broken; neither sleep nor appetite, the +chosen servants of health, waited on her wasted form. To watch her +children hour by hour, to sit by me, drinking deep the dear persuasion +that I remained to her, was all her pastime. Her vivacity, so long +assumed, her affectionate display of cheerfulness, her light-hearted +tone and springy gait were gone. I could not disguise to myself, nor +could she conceal, her life-consuming sorrow. Still change of scene, +and reviving hopes might restore her; I feared the plague only, and she +was untouched by that. + +I had left her this evening, reposing after the fatigues of her +preparations. Clara sat beside her, relating a story to the two boys. +The eyes of Idris were closed: but Clara perceived a sudden change in +the appearance of our eldest darling; his heavy lids veiled his eyes, +an unnatural colour burnt in his cheeks, his breath became short. Clara +looked at the mother; she slept, yet started at the pause the narrator +made— Fear of awakening and alarming her, caused Clara to go on at the +eager call of Evelyn, who was unaware of what was passing. Her eyes +turned alternately from Alfred to Idris; with trembling accents she +continued her tale, till she saw the child about to fall: starting +forward she caught him, and her cry roused Idris. She looked on her +son. She saw death stealing across his features; she laid him on a bed, +she held drink to his parched lips. + +Yet he might be saved. If I were there, he might be saved; perhaps it +was not the plague. Without a counsellor, what could she do? stay and +behold him die! Why at that moment was I away? “Look to him, Clara,” +she exclaimed, “I will return immediately.” + +She inquired among those who, selected as the companions of our +journey, had taken up their residence in our house; she heard from them +merely that I had gone out with Adrian. She entreated them to seek me: +she returned to her child, he was plunged in a frightful state of +torpor; again she rushed down stairs; all was dark, desert, and silent; +she lost all self-possession; she ran into the street; she called on my +name. The pattering rain and howling wind alone replied to her. Wild +fear gave wings to her feet; she darted forward to seek me, she knew +not where; but, putting all her thoughts, all her energy, all her being +in speed only, most misdirected speed, she neither felt, nor feared, +nor paused, but ran right on, till her strength suddenly deserted her +so suddenly, that she had not thought to save herself. Her knees failed +her, and she fell heavily on the pavement. She was stunned for a time; +but at length rose, and though sorely hurt, still walked on, shedding a +fountain of tears, stumbling at times, going she knew not whither, only +now and then with feeble voice she called my name, adding with +heart-piercing exclamations, that I was cruel and unkind. Human being +there was none to reply; and the inclemency of the night had driven the +wandering animals to the habitations they had usurped. Her thin dress +was drenched with rain; her wet hair clung round her neck; she tottered +through the dark streets; till, striking her foot against an unseen +impediment, she again fell; she could not rise; she hardly strove; but, +gathering up her limbs, she resigned herself to the fury of the +elements, and the bitter grief of her own heart. She breathed an +earnest prayer to die speedily, for there was no relief but death. +While hopeless of safety for herself, she ceased to lament for her +dying child, but shed kindly, bitter tears for the grief I should +experience in losing her. While she lay, life almost suspended, she +felt a warm, soft hand on her brow, and a gentle female voice asked +her, with expressions of tender compassion, if she could not rise? That +another human being, sympathetic and kind, should exist near, roused +her; half rising, with clasped hands, and fresh springing tears, she +entreated her companion to seek for me, to bid me hasten to my dying +child, to save him, for the love of heaven, to save him! + +The woman raised her; she led her under shelter, she entreated her to +return to her home, whither perhaps I had already returned. Idris +easily yielded to her persuasions, she leaned on the arm of her friend, +she endeavoured to walk on, but irresistible faintness made her pause +again and again. + +Quickened by the encreasing storm, we had hastened our return, our +little charge was placed before Adrian on his horse. There was an +assemblage of persons under the portico of our house, in whose gestures +I instinctively read some heavy change, some new misfortune. With swift +alarm, afraid to ask a single question, I leapt from my horse; the +spectators saw me, knew me, and in awful silence divided to make way +for me. I snatched a light, and rushing up stairs, and hearing a groan, +without reflection I threw open the door of the first room that +presented itself. It was quite dark; but, as I stept within, a +pernicious scent assailed my senses, producing sickening qualms, which +made their way to my very heart, while I felt my leg clasped, and a +groan repeated by the person that held me. I lowered my lamp, and saw a +negro half clad, writhing under the agony of disease, while he held me +with a convulsive grasp. With mixed horror and impatience I strove to +disengage myself, and fell on the sufferer; he wound his naked +festering arms round me, his face was close to mine, and his breath, +death-laden, entered my vitals. For a moment I was overcome, my head +was bowed by aching nausea; till, reflection returning, I sprung up, +threw the wretch from me, and darting up the staircase, entered the +chamber usually inhabited by my family. A dim light shewed me Alfred on +a couch; Clara trembling, and paler than whitest snow, had raised him +on her arm, holding a cup of water to his lips. I saw full well that no +spark of life existed in that ruined form, his features were rigid, his +eyes glazed, his head had fallen back. I took him from her, I laid him +softly down, kissed his cold little mouth, and turned to speak in a +vain whisper, when loudest sound of thunderlike cannon could not have +reached him in his immaterial abode. + +And where was Idris? That she had gone out to seek me, and had not +returned, were fearful tidings, while the rain and driving wind +clattered against the window, and roared round the house. Added to +this, the sickening sensation of disease gained upon me; no time was to +be lost, if ever I would see her again. I mounted my horse and rode out +to seek her, fancying that I heard her voice in every gust, oppressed +by fever and aching pain. + +I rode in the dark and rain through the labyrinthine streets of +unpeopled London. My child lay dead at home; the seeds of mortal +disease had taken root in my bosom; I went to seek Idris, my adored, +now wandering alone, while the waters were rushing from heaven like a +cataract to bathe her dear head in chill damp, her fair limbs in +numbing cold. A female stood on the step of a door, and called to me as +I gallopped past. It was not Idris; so I rode swiftly on, until a kind +of second sight, a reflection back again on my senses of what I had +seen but not marked, made me feel sure that another figure, thin, +graceful and tall, stood clinging to the foremost person who supported +her. In a minute I was beside the suppliant, in a minute I received the +sinking Idris in my arms. Lifting her up, I placed her on the horse; +she had not strength to support herself; so I mounted behind her, and +held her close to my bosom, wrapping my riding-cloak round her, while +her companion, whose well known, but changed countenance, (it was +Juliet, daughter of the Duke of L—-) could at this moment of horror +obtain from me no more than a passing glance of compassion. She took +the abandoned rein, and conducted our obedient steed homewards. Dare I +avouch it? That was the last moment of my happiness; but I was happy. +Idris must die, for her heart was broken: I must die, for I had caught +the plague; earth was a scene of desolation; hope was madness; life had +married death; they were one; but, thus supporting my fainting love, +thus feeling that I must soon die, I revelled in the delight of +possessing her once more; again and again I kissed her, and pressed her +to my heart. + +We arrived at our home. I assisted her to dismount, I carried her up +stairs, and gave her into Clara’s care, that her wet garments might be +changed. Briefly I assured Adrian of her safety, and requested that we +might be left to repose. As the miser, who with trembling caution +visits his treasure to count it again and again, so I numbered each +moment, and grudged every one that was not spent with Idris. I returned +swiftly to the chamber where the life of my life reposed; before I +entered the room I paused for a few seconds; for a few seconds I tried +to examine my state; sickness and shuddering ever and anon came over +me; my head was heavy, my chest oppressed, my legs bent under me; but I +threw off resolutely the swift growing symptoms of my disorder, and met +Idris with placid and even joyous looks. She was lying on a couch; +carefully fastening the door to prevent all intrusion; I sat by her, we +embraced, and our lips met in a kiss long drawn and breathless—would +that moment had been my last! + +Maternal feeling now awoke in my poor girl’s bosom, and she asked: “And +Alfred?” + +“Idris,” I replied, “we are spared to each other, we are together; do +not let any other idea intrude. I am happy; even on this fatal night, I +declare myself happy, beyond all name, all thought—what would you more, +sweet one?” + +Idris understood me: she bowed her head on my shoulder and wept. “Why,” +she again asked, “do you tremble, Lionel, what shakes you thus?” + +“Well may I be shaken,” I replied, “happy as I am. Our child is dead, +and the present hour is dark and ominous. Well may I tremble! but, I am +happy, mine own Idris, most happy.” + +“I understand thee, my kind love,” said Idris, “thus—pale as thou art +with sorrow at our loss; trembling and aghast, though wouldest assuage +my grief by thy dear assurances. I am not happy,” (and the tears +flashed and fell from under her down-cast lids), “for we are inmates of +a miserable prison, and there is no joy for us; but the true love I +bear you will render this and every other loss endurable.” + +“We have been happy together, at least,” I said; “no future misery can +deprive us of the past. We have been true to each other for years, ever +since my sweet princess-love came through the snow to the lowly cottage +of the poverty-striken heir of the ruined Verney. Even now, that +eternity is before us, we take hope only from the presence of each +other. Idris, do you think, that when we die, we shall be divided?” + +“Die! when we die! what mean you? What secret lies hid from me in those +dreadful words?” + +“Must we not all die, dearest?” I asked with a sad smile. + +“Gracious God! are you ill, Lionel, that you speak of death? My only +friend, heart of my heart, speak!” + +“I do not think,” replied I, “that we have any of us long to live; and +when the curtain drops on this mortal scene, where, think you, we shall +find ourselves?” Idris was calmed by my unembarrassed tone and look; +she answered:—“You may easily believe that during this long progress of +the plague, I have thought much on death, and asked myself, now that +all mankind is dead to this life, to what other life they may have been +borne. Hour after hour, I have dwelt on these thoughts, and strove to +form a rational conclusion concerning the mystery of a future state. +What a scare-crow, indeed, would death be, if we were merely to cast +aside the shadow in which we now walk, and, stepping forth into the +unclouded sunshine of knowledge and love, revived with the same +companions, the same affections, and reached the fulfilment of our +hopes, leaving our fears with our earthly vesture in the grave. Alas! +the same strong feeling which makes me sure that I shall not wholly +die, makes me refuse to believe that I shall live wholly as I do now. +Yet, Lionel, never, never, can I love any but you; through eternity I +must desire your society; and, as I am innocent of harm to others, and +as relying and confident as my mortal nature permits, I trust that the +Ruler of the world will never tear us asunder.” + +“Your remarks are like yourself, dear love,” replied I, “gentle and +good; let us cherish such a belief, and dismiss anxiety from our minds. +But, sweet, we are so formed, (and there is no sin, if God made our +nature, to yield to what he ordains), we are so formed, that we must +love life, and cling to it; we must love the living smile, the +sympathetic touch, and thrilling voice, peculiar to our mortal +mechanism. Let us not, through security in hereafter, neglect the +present. This present moment, short as it is, is a part of eternity, +and the dearest part, since it is our own unalienably. Thou, the hope +of my futurity, art my present joy. Let me then look on thy dear eyes, +and, reading love in them, drink intoxicating pleasure.” + +Timidly, for my vehemence somewhat terrified her, Idris looked on me. +My eyes were bloodshot, starting from my head; every artery beat, +methought, audibly, every muscle throbbed, each single nerve felt. Her +look of wild affright told me, that I could no longer keep my +secret:—“So it is, mine own beloved,” I said, “the last hour of many +happy ones is arrived, nor can we shun any longer the inevitable +destiny. I cannot live long—but, again and again, I say, this moment is +ours!” + +Paler than marble, with white lips and convulsed features, Idris became +aware of my situation. My arm, as I sat, encircled her waist. She felt +the palm burn with fever, even on the heart it pressed:—“One moment,” +she murmured, scarce audibly, “only one moment.”— + +She kneeled, and hiding her face in her hands, uttered a brief, but +earnest prayer, that she might fulfil her duty, and watch over me to +the last. While there was hope, the agony had been unendurable;—all was +now concluded; her feelings became solemn and calm. Even as Epicharis, +unperturbed and firm, submitted to the instruments of torture, did +Idris, suppressing every sigh and sign of grief, enter upon the +endurance of torments, of which the rack and the wheel are but faint +and metaphysical symbols. + +I was changed; the tight-drawn cord that sounded so harshly was +loosened, the moment that Idris participated in my knowledge of our +real situation. The perturbed and passion-tossed waves of thought +subsided, leaving only the heavy swell that kept right on without any +outward manifestation of its disturbance, till it should break on the +remote shore towards which I rapidly advanced:—“It is true that I am +sick,” I said, “and your society, my Idris is my only medicine; come, +and sit beside me.” + +She made me lie down on the couch, and, drawing a low ottoman near, sat +close to my pillow, pressing my burning hands in her cold palms. She +yielded to my feverish restlessness, and let me talk, and talked to me, +on subjects strange indeed to beings, who thus looked the last, and +heard the last, of what they loved alone in the world. We talked of +times gone by; of the happy period of our early love; of Raymond, +Perdita, and Evadne. We talked of what might arise on this desert +earth, if, two or three being saved, it were slowly re-peopled.—We +talked of what was beyond the tomb; and, man in his human shape being +nearly extinct, we felt with certainty of faith, that other spirits, +other minds, other perceptive beings, sightless to us, must people with +thought and love this beauteous and imperishable universe. + +We talked—I know not how long—but, in the morning I awoke from a +painful heavy slumber; the pale cheek of Idris rested on my pillow; the +large orbs of her eyes half raised the lids, and shewed the deep blue +lights beneath; her lips were unclosed, and the slight murmurs they +formed told that, even while asleep, she suffered. “If she were dead,” +I thought, “what difference? now that form is the temple of a residing +deity; those eyes are the windows of her soul; all grace, love, and +intelligence are throned on that lovely bosom—were she dead, where +would this mind, the dearer half of mine, be? For quickly the fair +proportion of this edifice would be more defaced, than are the +sand-choked ruins of the desert temples of Palmyra.” + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Idris stirred and awoke; alas! she awoke to misery. She saw the signs +of disease on my countenance, and wondered how she could permit the +long night to pass without her having sought, not cure, that was +impossible, but alleviation to my sufferings. She called Adrian; my +couch was quickly surrounded by friends and assistants, and such +medicines as were judged fitting were administered. It was the peculiar +and dreadful distinction of our visitation, that none who had been +attacked by the pestilence had recovered. The first symptom of the +disease was the death-warrant, which in no single instance had been +followed by pardon or reprieve. No gleam of hope therefore cheered my +friends. + +While fever producing torpor, heavy pains, sitting like lead on my +limbs, and making my breast heave, were upon me; I continued insensible +to every thing but pain, and at last even to that. I awoke on the +fourth morning as from a dreamless sleep. An irritating sense of +thirst, and, when I strove to speak or move, an entire dereliction of +power, was all I felt. + +For three days and nights Idris had not moved from my side. She +administered to all my wants, and never slept nor rested. She did not +hope; and therefore she neither endeavoured to read the physician’s +countenance, nor to watch for symptoms of recovery. All her thought was +to attend on me to the last, and then to lie down and die beside me. On +the third night animation was suspended; to the eye and touch of all I +was dead. With earnest prayer, almost with force, Adrian tried to draw +Idris from me. He exhausted every adjuration, her child’s welfare and +his own. She shook her head, and wiped a stealing tear from her sunk +cheek, but would not yield; she entreated to be allowed to watch me +that one night only, with such affliction and meek earnestness, that +she gained her point, and sat silent and motionless, except when, stung +by intolerable remembrance, she kissed my closed eyes and pallid lips, +and pressed my stiffening hands to her beating heart. + +At dead of night, when, though it was mid winter, the cock crowed at +three o’clock, as herald of the morning change, while hanging over me, +and mourning in silent, bitter thought for the loss of all of love +towards her that had been enshrined in my heart; her dishevelled hair +hung over her face, and the long tresses fell on the bed; she saw one +ringlet in motion, and the scattered hair slightly stirred, as by a +breath. It is not so, she thought, for he will never breathe more. +Several times the same thing occurred, and she only marked it by the +same reflection; till the whole ringlet waved back, and she thought she +saw my breast heave. Her first emotion was deadly fear, cold dew stood +on her brow; my eyes half opened; and, re-assured, she would have +exclaimed, “He lives!” but the words were choked by a spasm, and she +fell with a groan on the floor. + +Adrian was in the chamber. After long watching, he had unwillingly +fallen into a sleep. He started up, and beheld his sister senseless on +the earth, weltering in a stream of blood that gushed from her mouth. +Encreasing signs of life in me in some degree explained her state; the +surprise, the burst of joy, the revulsion of every sentiment, had been +too much for her frame, worn by long months of care, late shattered by +every species of woe and toil. She was now in far greater danger than +I, the wheels and springs of my life, once again set in motion, +acquired elasticity from their short suspension. For a long time, no +one believed that I should indeed continue to live; during the reign of +the plague upon earth, not one person, attacked by the grim disease, +had recovered. My restoration was looked on as a deception; every +moment it was expected that the evil symptoms would recur with +redoubled violence, until confirmed convalescence, absence of all fever +or pain, and encreasing strength, brought slow conviction that I had +recovered from the plague. + +The restoration of Idris was more problematical. When I had been +attacked by illness, her cheeks were sunk, her form emaciated; but now, +the vessel, which had broken from the effects of extreme agitation, did +not entirely heal, but was as a channel that drop by drop drew from her +the ruddy stream that vivified her heart. Her hollow eyes and worn +countenance had a ghastly appearance; her cheek-bones, her open fair +brow, the projection of the mouth, stood fearfully prominent; you might +tell each bone in the thin anatomy of her frame. Her hand hung +powerless; each joint lay bare, so that the light penetrated through +and through. It was strange that life could exist in what was wasted +and worn into a very type of death. + +To take her from these heart-breaking scenes, to lead her to forget the +world’s desolation in the variety of objects presented by travelling, +and to nurse her failing strength in the mild climate towards which we +had resolved to journey, was my last hope for her preservation. The +preparations for our departure, which had been suspended during my +illness, were renewed. I did not revive to doubtful convalescence; +health spent her treasures upon me; as the tree in spring may feel from +its wrinkled limbs the fresh green break forth, and the living sap rise +and circulate, so did the renewed vigour of my frame, the cheerful +current of my blood, the new-born elasticity of my limbs, influence my +mind to cheerful endurance and pleasurable thoughts. My body, late the +heavy weight that bound me to the tomb, was exuberant with health; mere +common exercises were insufficient for my reviving strength; methought +I could emulate the speed of the race-horse, discern through the air +objects at a blinding distance, hear the operations of nature in her +mute abodes; my senses had become so refined and susceptible after my +recovery from mortal disease. + +Hope, among my other blessings, was not denied to me; and I did fondly +trust that my unwearied attentions would restore my adored girl. I was +therefore eager to forward our preparations. According to the plan +first laid down, we were to have quitted London on the twenty-fifth of +November; and, in pursuance of this scheme, two-thirds of our +people—_the_ people— all that remained of England, had gone forward, +and had already been some weeks in Paris. First my illness, and +subsequently that of Idris, had detained Adrian with his division, +which consisted of three hundred persons, so that we now departed on +the first of January, 2098. It was my wish to keep Idris as distant as +possible from the hurry and clamour of the crowd, and to hide from her +those appearances that would remind her most forcibly of our real +situation. We separated ourselves to a great degree from Adrian, who +was obliged to give his whole time to public business. The Countess of +Windsor travelled with her son. Clara, Evelyn, and a female who acted +as our attendant, were the only persons with whom we had contact. We +occupied a commodious carriage, our servant officiated as coachman. A +party of about twenty persons preceded us at a small distance. They had +it in charge to prepare our halting places and our nightly abode. They +had been selected for this service out of a great number that offered, +on account of the superior sagacity of the man who had been appointed +their leader. + +Immediately on our departure, I was delighted to find a change in +Idris, which I fondly hoped prognosticated the happiest results. All +the cheerfulness and gentle gaiety natural to her revived. She was +weak, and this alteration was rather displayed in looks and voice than +in acts; but it was permanent and real. My recovery from the plague and +confirmed health instilled into her a firm belief that I was now secure +from this dread enemy. She told me that she was sure she should +recover. That she had a presentiment, that the tide of calamity which +deluged our unhappy race had now turned. That the remnant would be +preserved, and among them the dear objects of her tender affection; and +that in some selected spot we should wear out our lives together in +pleasant society. “Do not let my state of feebleness deceive you,” she +said; “I feel that I am better; there is a quick life within me, and a +spirit of anticipation that assures me, that I shall continue long to +make a part of this world. I shall throw off this degrading weakness of +body, which infects even my mind with debility, and I shall enter again +on the performance of my duties. I was sorry to leave Windsor: but now +I am weaned from this local attachment; I am content to remove to a +mild climate, which will complete my recovery. Trust me, dearest, I +shall neither leave you, nor my brother, nor these dear children; my +firm determination to remain with you to the last, and to continue to +contribute to your happiness and welfare, would keep me alive, even if +grim death were nearer at hand than he really is.” + +I was only half re-assured by these expressions; I could not believe +that the over-quick flow of her blood was a sign of health, or that her +burning cheeks denoted convalescence. But I had no fears of an +immediate catastrophe; nay, I persuaded myself that she would +ultimately recover. And thus cheerfulness reigned in our little +society. Idris conversed with animation on a thousand topics. Her chief +desire was to lead our thoughts from melancholy reflections; so she +drew charming pictures of a tranquil solitude, of a beauteous retreat, +of the simple manners of our little tribe, and of the patriarchal +brotherhood of love, which would survive the ruins of the populous +nations which had lately existed. We shut out from our thoughts the +present, and withdrew our eyes from the dreary landscape we traversed. +Winter reigned in all its gloom. The leafless trees lay without motion +against the dun sky; the forms of frost, mimicking the foliage of +summer, strewed the ground; the paths were overgrown; the unploughed +cornfields were patched with grass and weeds; the sheep congregated at +the threshold of the cottage, the horned ox thrust his head from the +window. The wind was bleak, and frequent sleet or snow-storms, added to +the melancholy appearance wintry nature assumed. + +We arrived at Rochester, and an accident caused us to be detained there +a day. During that time, a circumstance occurred that changed our +plans, and which, alas! in its result changed the eternal course of +events, turning me from the pleasant new sprung hope I enjoyed, to an +obscure and gloomy desert. But I must give some little explanation +before I proceed with the final cause of our temporary alteration of +plan, and refer again to those times when man walked the earth +fearless, before Plague had become Queen of the World. + +There resided a family in the neighbourhood of Windsor, of very humble +pretensions, but which had been an object of interest to us on account +of one of the persons of whom it was composed. The family of the +Claytons had known better days; but, after a series of reverses, the +father died a bankrupt, and the mother heartbroken, and a confirmed +invalid, retired with her five children to a little cottage between +Eton and Salt Hill. The eldest of these children, who was thirteen +years old, seemed at once from the influence of adversity, to acquire +the sagacity and principle belonging to a more mature age. Her mother +grew worse and worse in health, but Lucy attended on her, and was as a +tender parent to her younger brothers and sisters, and in the meantime +shewed herself so good-humoured, social, and benevolent, that she was +beloved as well as honoured, in her little neighbourhood. + +Lucy was besides extremely pretty; so when she grew to be sixteen, it +was to be supposed, notwithstanding her poverty, that she should have +admirers. One of these was the son of a country-curate; he was a +generous, frank-hearted youth, with an ardent love of knowledge, and no +mean acquirements. Though Lucy was untaught, her mother’s conversation +and manners gave her a taste for refinements superior to her present +situation. She loved the youth even without knowing it, except that in +any difficulty she naturally turned to him for aid, and awoke with a +lighter heart every Sunday, because she knew that she would be met and +accompanied by him in her evening walk with her sisters. She had +another admirer, one of the head-waiters at the inn at Salt Hill. He +also was not without pretensions to urbane superiority, such as he +learnt from gentlemen’s servants and waiting-maids, who initiating him +in all the slang of high life below stairs, rendered his arrogant +temper ten times more intrusive. Lucy did not disclaim him—she was +incapable of that feeling; but she was sorry when she saw him approach, +and quietly resisted all his endeavours to establish an intimacy. The +fellow soon discovered that his rival was preferred to him; and this +changed what was at first a chance admiration into a passion, whose +main springs were envy, and a base desire to deprive his competitor of +the advantage he enjoyed over himself. + +Poor Lucy’s sad story was but a common one. Her lover’s father died; +and he was left destitute. He accepted the offer of a gentleman to go +to India with him, feeling secure that he should soon acquire an +independence, and return to claim the hand of his beloved. He became +involved in the war carried on there, was taken prisoner, and years +elapsed before tidings of his existence were received in his native +land. In the meantime disastrous poverty came on Lucy. Her little +cottage, which stood looking from its trellice, covered with woodbine +and jessamine, was burnt down; and the whole of their little property +was included in the destruction. Whither betake them? By what exertion +of industry could Lucy procure them another abode? Her mother nearly +bed-rid, could not survive any extreme of famine-struck poverty. At +this time her other admirer stept forward, and renewed his offer of +marriage. He had saved money, and was going to set up a little inn at +Datchet. There was nothing alluring to Lucy in this offer, except the +home it secured to her mother; and she felt more sure of this, since +she was struck by the apparent generosity which occasioned the present +offer. She accepted it; thus sacrificing herself for the comfort and +welfare of her parent. + +It was some years after her marriage that we became acquainted with +her. The accident of a storm caused us to take refuge in the inn, where +we witnessed the brutal and quarrelsome behaviour of her husband, and +her patient endurance. Her lot was not a fortunate one. Her first lover +had returned with the hope of making her his own, and met her by +accident, for the first time, as the mistress of his country inn, and +the wife of another. He withdrew despairingly to foreign parts; nothing +went well with him; at last he enlisted, and came back again wounded +and sick, and yet Lucy was debarred from nursing him. Her husband’s +brutal disposition was aggravated by his yielding to the many +temptations held out by his situation, and the consequent +disarrangement of his affairs. Fortunately she had no children; but her +heart was bound up in her brothers and sisters, and these his avarice +and ill temper soon drove from the house; they were dispersed about the +country, earning their livelihood with toil and care. He even shewed an +inclination to get rid of her mother—but Lucy was firm here—she had +sacrificed herself for her; she lived for her —she would not part with +her—if the mother went, she would also go beg bread for her, die with +her, but never desert her. The presence of Lucy was too necessary in +keeping up the order of the house, and in preventing the whole +establishment from going to wreck, for him to permit her to leave him. +He yielded the point; but in all accesses of anger, or in his drunken +fits, he recurred to the old topic, and stung poor Lucy’s heart by +opprobrious epithets bestowed on her parent. + +A passion however, if it be wholly pure, entire, and reciprocal, brings +with it its own solace. Lucy was truly, and from the depth of heart, +devoted to her mother; the sole end she proposed to herself in life, +was the comfort and preservation of this parent. Though she grieved for +the result, yet she did not repent of her marriage, even when her lover +returned to bestow competence on her. Three years had intervened, and +how, in their pennyless state, could her mother have existed during +this time? This excellent woman was worthy of her child’s devotion. A +perfect confidence and friendship existed between them; besides, she +was by no means illiterate; and Lucy, whose mind had been in some +degree cultivated by her former lover, now found in her the only person +who could understand and appreciate her. Thus, though suffering, she +was by no means desolate, and when, during fine summer days, she led +her mother into the flowery and shady lanes near their abode, a gleam +of unmixed joy enlightened her countenance; she saw that her parent was +happy, and she knew that this happiness was of her sole creating. + +Meanwhile her husband’s affairs grew more and more involved; ruin was +near at hand, and she was about to lose the fruit of all her labours, +when pestilence came to change the aspect of the world. Her husband +reaped benefit from the universal misery; but, as the disaster +encreased, the spirit of lawlessness seized him; he deserted his home +to revel in the luxuries promised him in London, and found there a +grave. Her former lover had been one of the first victims of the +disease. But Lucy continued to live for and in her mother. Her courage +only failed when she dreaded peril for her parent, or feared that death +might prevent her from performing those duties to which she was +unalterably devoted. + +When we had quitted Windsor for London, as the previous step to our +final emigration, we visited Lucy, and arranged with her the plan of +her own and her mother’s removal. Lucy was sorry at the necessity which +forced her to quit her native lanes and village, and to drag an infirm +parent from her comforts at home, to the homeless waste of depopulate +earth; but she was too well disciplined by adversity, and of too sweet +a temper, to indulge in repinings at what was inevitable. + +Subsequent circumstances, my illness and that of Idris, drove her from +our remembrance; and we called her to mind at last, only to conclude +that she made one of the few who came from Windsor to join the +emigrants, and that she was already in Paris. When we arrived at +Rochester therefore, we were surprised to receive, by a man just come +from Slough, a letter from this exemplary sufferer. His account was, +that, journeying from his home, and passing through Datchet, he was +surprised to see smoke issue from the chimney of the inn, and supposing +that he should find comrades for his journey assembled there, he +knocked and was admitted. There was no one in the house but Lucy, and +her mother; the latter had been deprived of the use of her limbs by an +attack of rheumatism, and so, one by one, all the remaining inhabitants +of the country set forward, leaving them alone. Lucy intreated the man +to stay with her; in a week or two her mother would be better, and they +would then set out; but they must perish, if they were left thus +helpless and forlorn. The man said, that his wife and children were +already among the emigrants, and it was therefore, according to his +notion, impossible for him to remain. Lucy, as a last resource, gave +him a letter for Idris, to be delivered to her wherever he should meet +us. This commission at least he fulfilled, and Idris received with +emotion the following letter:— + +“HONOURED LADY, + + +“I am sure that you will remember and pity me, and I dare hope that you +will assist me; what other hope have I? Pardon my manner of writing, I +am so bewildered. A month ago my dear mother was deprived of the use of +her limbs. She is already better, and in another month would I am sure +be able to travel, in the way you were so kind as to say you would +arrange for us. But now everybody is gone—everybody—as they went away, +each said, that perhaps my mother would be better, before we were quite +deserted. But three days ago I went to Samuel Woods, who, on account of +his new-born child, remained to the last; and there being a large +family of them, I thought I could persuade them to wait a little longer +for us; but I found the house deserted. I have not seen a soul since, +till this good man came. —What will become of us? My mother does not +know our state; she is so ill, that I have hidden it from her. + +“Will you not send some one to us? I am sure we must perish miserably +as we are. If I were to try to move my mother now, she would die on the +road; and if, when she gets better, I were able, I cannot guess how, to +find out the roads, and get on so many many miles to the sea, you would +all be in France, and the great ocean would be between us, which is so +terrible even to sailors. What would it be to me, a woman, who never +saw it? We should be imprisoned by it in this country, all, all alone, +with no help; better die where we are. I can hardly write—I cannot stop +my tears—it is not for myself; I could put my trust in God; and let the +worst come, I think I could bear it, if I were alone. But my mother, my +sick, my dear, dear mother, who never, since I was born, spoke a harsh +word to me, who has been patient in many sufferings; pity her, dear +Lady, she must die a miserable death if you do not pity her. People +speak carelessly of her, because she is old and infirm, as if we must +not all, if we are spared, become so; and then, when the young are old +themselves, they will think that they ought to be taken care of. It is +very silly of me to write in this way to you; but, when I hear her +trying not to groan, and see her look smiling on me to comfort me, when +I know she is in pain; and when I think that she does not know the +worst, but she soon must; and then she will not complain; but I shall +sit guessing at all that she is dwelling upon, of famine and misery—I +feel as if my heart must break, and I do not know what I say or do; my +mother—mother for whom I have borne much, God preserve you from this +fate! Preserve her, Lady, and He will bless you; and I, poor miserable +creature as I am, will thank you and pray for you while I live. + +“Your unhappy and dutiful servant, +LUCY MARTIN.” +“_Dec_. 30_th_, 2097. + + +This letter deeply affected Idris, and she instantly proposed, that we +should return to Datchet, to assist Lucy and her mother. I said that I +would without delay set out for that place, but entreated her to join +her brother, and there await my return with the children. But Idris was +in high spirits, and full of hope. She declared that she could not +consent even to a temporary separation from me, but that there was no +need of this, the motion of the carriage did her good, and the distance +was too trifling to be considered. We could dispatch messengers to +Adrian, to inform him of our deviation from the original plan. She +spoke with vivacity, and drew a picture after her own dear heart, of +the pleasure we should bestow upon Lucy, and declared, if I went, she +must accompany me, and that she should very much dislike to entrust the +charge of rescuing them to others, who might fulfil it with coldness or +inhumanity. Lucy’s life had been one act of devotion and virtue; let +her now reap the small reward of finding her excellence appreciated, +and her necessity assisted, by those whom she respected and honoured. + +These, and many other arguments, were urged with gentle pertinacity, +and the ardour of a wish to do all the good in her power, by her whose +simple expression of a desire and slightest request had ever been a law +with me. I, of course, consented, the moment that I saw that she had +set her heart upon this step. We sent half our attendant troop on to +Adrian; and with the other half our carriage took a retrograde course +back to Windsor. + +I wonder now how I could be so blind and senseless, as thus to risk the +safety of Idris; for, if I had eyes, surely I could see the sure, +though deceitful, advance of death in her burning cheek and encreasing +weakness. But she said she was better; and I believed her. Extinction +could not be near a being, whose vivacity and intelligence hourly +encreased, and whose frame was endowed with an intense, and I fondly +thought, a strong and permanent spirit of life. Who, after a great +disaster, has not looked back with wonder at his inconceivable +obtuseness of understanding, that could not perceive the many minute +threads with which fate weaves the inextricable net of our destinies, +until he is inmeshed completely in it? + +The cross roads which we now entered upon, were even in a worse state +than the long neglected high-ways; and the inconvenience seemed to +menace the perishing frame of Idris with destruction. Passing through +Dartford, we arrived at Hampton on the second day. Even in this short +interval my beloved companion grew sensibly worse in health, though her +spirits were still light, and she cheered my growing anxiety with gay +sallies; sometimes the thought pierced my brain—Is she dying?—as I saw +her fair fleshless hand rest on mine, or observed the feebleness with +which she performed the accustomed acts of life. I drove away the idea, +as if it had been suggested by insanity; but it occurred again and +again, only to be dispelled by the continued liveliness of her manner. + +About mid-day, after quitting Hampton, our carriage broke down: the +shock caused Idris to faint, but on her reviving no other ill +consequence ensued; our party of attendants had as usual gone on before +us, and our coachman went in search of another vehicle, our former one +being rendered by this accident unfit for service. The only place near +us was a poor village, in which he found a kind of caravan, able to +hold four people, but it was clumsy and ill hung; besides this he found +a very excellent cabriolet: our plan was soon arranged; I would drive +Idris in the latter; while the children were conveyed by the servant in +the former. But these arrangements cost time; we had agreed to proceed +that night to Windsor, and thither our purveyors had gone: we should +find considerable difficulty in getting accommodation, before we +reached this place; after all, the distance was only ten miles; my +horse was a good one; I would go forward at a good pace with Idris, +leaving the children to follow at a rate more consonant to the uses of +their cumberous machine. + +Evening closed in quickly, far more quickly than I was prepared to +expect. At the going down of the sun it began to snow heavily. I +attempted in vain to defend my beloved companion from the storm; the +wind drove the snow in our faces; and it lay so high on the ground, +that we made but small way; while the night was so dark, that but for +the white covering on the ground we should not have been able to see a +yard before us. We had left our accompanying caravan far behind us; and +now I perceived that the storm had made me unconsciously deviate from +my intended route. I had gone some miles out of my way. My knowledge of +the country enabled me to regain the right road; but, instead of going, +as at first agreed upon, by a cross road through Stanwell to Datchet, I +was obliged to take the way of Egham and Bishopgate. It was certain +therefore that I should not be rejoined by the other vehicle, that I +should not meet a single fellow-creature till we arrived at Windsor. + +The back of our carriage was drawn up, and I hung a pelisse before it, +thus to curtain the beloved sufferer from the pelting sleet. She leaned +on my shoulder, growing every moment more languid and feeble; at first +she replied to my words of cheer with affectionate thanks; but by +degrees she sunk into silence; her head lay heavily upon me; I only +knew that she lived by her irregular breathing and frequent sighs. For +a moment I resolved to stop, and, opposing the back of the cabriolet to +the force of the tempest, to expect morning as well as I might. But the +wind was bleak and piercing, while the occasional shudderings of my +poor Idris, and the intense cold I felt myself, demonstrated that this +would be a dangerous experiment. At length methought she slept—fatal +sleep, induced by frost: at this moment I saw the heavy outline of a +cottage traced on the dark horizon close to us: “Dearest love,” I said, +“support yourself but one moment, and we shall have shelter; let us +stop here, that I may open the door of this blessed dwelling.” + +As I spoke, my heart was transported, and my senses swam with excessive +delight and thankfulness; I placed the head of Idris against the +carriage, and, leaping out, scrambled through the snow to the cottage, +whose door was open. I had apparatus about me for procuring light, and +that shewed me a comfortable room, with a pile of wood in one corner, +and no appearance of disorder, except that, the door having been left +partly open, the snow, drifting in, had blocked up the threshold. I +returned to the carriage, and the sudden change from light to darkness +at first blinded me. When I recovered my sight—eternal God of this +lawless world! O supreme Death! I will not disturb thy silent reign, or +mar my tale with fruitless exclamations of horror—I saw Idris, who had +fallen from the seat to the bottom of the carriage; her head, its long +hair pendent, with one arm, hung over the side.—Struck by a spasm of +horror, I lifted her up; her heart was pulseless, her faded lips +unfanned by the slightest breath. + +I carried her into the cottage; I placed her on the bed. Lighting a +fire, I chafed her stiffening limbs; for two long hours I sought to +restore departed life; and, when hope was as dead as my beloved, I +closed with trembling hands her glazed eyes. I did not doubt what I +should now do. In the confusion attendant on my illness, the task of +interring our darling Alfred had devolved on his grandmother, the +Ex-Queen, and she, true to her ruling passion, had caused him to be +carried to Windsor, and buried in the family vault, in St. George’s +Chapel. I must proceed to Windsor, to calm the anxiety of Clara, who +would wait anxiously for us—yet I would fain spare her the +heart-breaking spectacle of Idris, brought in by me lifeless from the +journey. So first I would place my beloved beside her child in the +vault, and then seek the poor children who would be expecting me. + +I lighted the lamps of my carriage; I wrapt her in furs, and placed her +along the seat; then taking the reins, made the horses go forward. We +proceeded through the snow, which lay in masses impeding the way, while +the descending flakes, driving against me with redoubled fury, blinded +me. The pain occasioned by the angry elements, and the cold iron of the +shafts of frost which buffetted me, and entered my aching flesh, were a +relief to me; blunting my mental suffering. The horses staggered on, +and the reins hung loosely in my hands. I often thought I would lay my +head close to the sweet, cold face of my lost angel, and thus resign +myself to conquering torpor. Yet I must not leave her a prey to the +fowls of the air; but, in pursuance of my determination place her in +the tomb of her forefathers, where a merciful God might permit me to +rest also. + +The road we passed through Egham was familiar to me; but the wind and +snow caused the horses to drag their load slowly and heavily. Suddenly +the wind veered from south-west to west, and then again to north-west. +As Sampson with tug and strain stirred from their bases the columns +that supported the Philistine temple, so did the gale shake the dense +vapours propped on the horizon, while the massy dome of clouds fell to +the south, disclosing through the scattered web the clear empyrean, and +the little stars, which were set at an immeasurable distance in the +crystalline fields, showered their small rays on the glittering snow. +Even the horses were cheered, and moved on with renovated strength. We +entered the forest at Bishopgate, and at the end of the Long Walk I saw +the Castle, “the proud Keep of Windsor, rising in the majesty of +proportion, girt with the double belt of its kindred and coeval +towers.” I looked with reverence on a structure, ancient almost as the +rock on which it stood, abode of kings, theme of admiration for the +wise. With greater reverence and, tearful affection I beheld it as the +asylum of the long lease of love I had enjoyed there with the +perishable, unmatchable treasure of dust, which now lay cold beside me. +Now indeed, I could have yielded to all the softness of my nature, and +wept; and, womanlike, have uttered bitter plaints; while the familiar +trees, the herds of living deer, the sward oft prest by her fairy-feet, +one by one with sad association presented themselves. The white gate at +the end of the Long Walk was wide open, and I rode up the empty town +through the first gate of the feudal tower; and now St. George’s +Chapel, with its blackened fretted sides, was right before me. I halted +at its door, which was open; I entered, and placed my lighted lamp on +the altar; then I returned, and with tender caution I bore Idris up the +aisle into the chancel, and laid her softly down on the carpet which +covered the step leading to the communion table. The banners of the +knights of the garter, and their half drawn swords, were hung in vain +emblazonry above the stalls. The banner of her family hung there, still +surmounted by its regal crown. Farewell to the glory and heraldry of +England!—I turned from such vanity with a slight feeling of wonder, at +how mankind could have ever been interested in such things. I bent over +the lifeless corpse of my beloved; and, while looking on her uncovered +face, the features already contracted by the rigidity of death, I felt +as if all the visible universe had grown as soulless, inane, and +comfortless as the clay-cold image beneath me. I felt for a moment the +intolerable sense of struggle with, and detestation for, the laws which +govern the world; till the calm still visible on the face of my dead +love recalled me to a more soothing tone of mind, and I proceeded to +fulfil the last office that could now be paid her. For her I could not +lament, so much I envied her enjoyment of “the sad immunities of the +grave.” + +The vault had been lately opened to place our Alfred therein. The +ceremony customary in these latter days had been cursorily performed, +and the pavement of the chapel, which was its entrance, having been +removed, had not been replaced. I descended the steps, and walked +through the long passage to the large vault which contained the kindred +dust of my Idris. I distinguished the small coffin of my babe. With +hasty, trembling hands I constructed a bier beside it, spreading it +with the furs and Indian shawls, which had wrapt Idris in her journey +thither. I lighted the glimmering lamp, which flickered in this damp +abode of the dead; then I bore my lost one to her last bed, decently +composing her limbs, and covering them with a mantle, veiling all +except her face, which remained lovely and placid. She appeared to rest +like one over-wearied, her beauteous eyes steeped in sweet slumber. +Yet, so it was not—she was dead! How intensely I then longed to lie +down beside her, to gaze till death should gather me to the same +repose. + +But death does not come at the bidding of the miserable. I had lately +recovered from mortal illness, and my blood had never flowed with such +an even current, nor had my limbs ever been so instinct with quick +life, as now. I felt that my death must be voluntary. Yet what more +natural than famine, as I watched in this chamber of mortality, placed +in a world of the dead, beside the lost hope of my life? Meanwhile as I +looked on her, the features, which bore a sisterly resemblance to +Adrian, brought my thoughts back again to the living, to this dear +friend, to Clara, and to Evelyn, who were probably now in Windsor, +waiting anxiously for our arrival. + +Methought I heard a noise, a step in the far chapel, which was +re-echoed by its vaulted roof, and borne to me through the hollow +passages. Had Clara seen my carriage pass up the town, and did she seek +me here? I must save her at least from the horrible scene the vault +presented. I sprung up the steps, and then saw a female figure, bent +with age, and clad in long mourning robes, advance through the dusky +chapel, supported by a slender cane, yet tottering even with this +support. She heard me, and looked up; the lamp I held illuminated my +figure, and the moon-beams, struggling through the painted glass, fell +upon her face, wrinkled and gaunt, yet with a piercing eye and +commanding brow—I recognized the Countess of Windsor. With a hollow +voice she asked, “Where is the princess?” + +I pointed to the torn up pavement: she walked to the spot, and looked +down into the palpable darkness; for the vault was too distant for the +rays of the small lamp I had left there to be discernible. + +“Your light,” she said. I gave it her; and she regarded the now +visible, but precipitous steps, as if calculating her capacity to +descend. Instinctively I made a silent offer of my assistance. She +motioned me away with a look of scorn, saying in an harsh voice, as she +pointed downwards, “There at least I may have her undisturbed.” + +She walked deliberately down, while I, overcome, miserable beyond +words, or tears, or groans, threw myself on the pavement near—the +stiffening form of Idris was before me, the death-struck countenance +hushed in eternal repose beneath. That was to me the end of all! The +day before, I had figured to my self various adventures, and communion +with my friends in after time—now I had leapt the interval, and reached +the utmost edge and bourne of life. Thus wrapt in gloom, enclosed, +walled up, vaulted over by the omnipotent present, I was startled by +the sound of feet on the steps of the tomb, and I remembered her whom I +had utterly forgotten, my angry visitant; her tall form slowly rose +upwards from the vault, a living statue, instinct with hate, and human, +passionate strife: she seemed to me as having reached the pavement of +the aisle; she stood motionless, seeking with her eyes alone, some +desired object—till, perceiving me close to her, she placed her +wrinkled hand on my arm, exclaiming with tremulous accents, “Lionel +Verney, my son!” This name, applied at such a moment by my angel’s +mother, instilled into me more respect than I had ever before felt for +this disdainful lady. I bowed my head, and kissed her shrivelled hand, +and, remarking that she trembled violently, supported her to the end of +the chancel, where she sat on the steps that led to the regal stall. +She suffered herself to be led, and still holding my hand, she leaned +her head back against the stall, while the moon beams, tinged with +various colours by the painted glass, fell on her glistening eyes; +aware of her weakness, again calling to mind her long cherished +dignity, she dashed the tears away; yet they fell fast, as she said, +for excuse, “She is so beautiful and placid, even in death. No harsh +feeling ever clouded her serene brow; how did I treat her? wounding her +gentle heart with savage coldness; I had no compassion on her in past +years, does she forgive me now? Little, little does it boot to talk of +repentance and forgiveness to the dead, had I during her life once +consulted her gentle wishes, and curbed my rugged nature to do her +pleasure, I should not feel thus.” + +Idris and her mother were unlike in person. The dark hair, deep-set +black eyes, and prominent features of the Ex-Queen were in entire +contrast to the golden tresses, the full blue orbs, and the soft lines +and contour of her daughter’s countenance. Yet, in latter days, illness +had taken from my poor girl the full outline of her face, and reduced +it to the inflexible shape of the bone beneath. In the form of her +brow, in her oval chin, there was to be found a resemblance to her +mother; nay in some moods, their gestures were not unlike; nor, having +lived so long together, was this wonderful. + +There is a magic power in resemblance. When one we love dies, we hope +to see them in another state, and half expect that the agency of mind +will inform its new garb in imitation of its decayed earthly vesture. +But these are ideas of the mind only. We know that the instrument is +shivered, the sensible image lies in miserable fragments, dissolved to +dusty nothingness; a look, a gesture, or a fashioning of the limbs +similar to the dead in a living person, touches a thrilling chord, +whose sacred harmony is felt in the heart’s dearest recess. Strangely +moved, prostrate before this spectral image, and enslaved by the force +of blood manifested in likeness of look and movement, I remained +trembling in the presence of the harsh, proud, and till now unloved +mother of Idris. + +Poor, mistaken woman! in her tenderest mood before, she had cherished +the idea, that a word, a look of reconciliation from her, would be +received with joy, and repay long years of severity. Now that the time +was gone for the exercise of such power, she fell at once upon the +thorny truth of things, and felt that neither smile nor caress could +penetrate to the unconscious state, or influence the happiness of her +who lay in the vault beneath. This conviction, together with the +remembrance of soft replies to bitter speeches, of gentle looks +repaying angry glances; the perception of the falsehood, paltryness and +futility of her cherished dreams of birth and power; the overpowering +knowledge, that love and life were the true emperors of our mortal +state; all, as a tide, rose, and filled her soul with stormy and +bewildering confusion. It fell to my lot, to come as the influential +power, to allay the fierce tossing of these tumultuous waves. I spoke +to her; I led her to reflect how happy Idris had really been, and how +her virtues and numerous excellencies had found scope and estimation in +her past career. I praised her, the idol of my heart’s dear worship, +the admired type of feminine perfection. With ardent and overflowing +eloquence, I relieved my heart from its burthen, and awoke to the sense +of a new pleasure in life, as I poured forth the funeral eulogy. Then I +referred to Adrian, her loved brother, and to her surviving child. I +declared, which I had before almost forgotten, what my duties were with +regard to these valued portions of herself, and bade the melancholy +repentant mother reflect, how she could best expiate unkindness towards +the dead, by redoubled love of the survivors. Consoling her, my own +sorrows were assuaged; my sincerity won her entire conviction. + +She turned to me. The hard, inflexible, persecuting woman, turned with +a mild expression of face, and said, “If our beloved angel sees us now, +it will delight her to find that I do you even tardy justice. You were +worthy of her; and from my heart I am glad that you won her away from +me. Pardon, my son, the many wrongs I have done you; forget my bitter +words and unkind treatment—take me, and govern me as you will.” + +I seized this docile moment to propose our departure from the church. +“First,” she said, “let us replace the pavement above the vault.” + +We drew near to it; “Shall we look on her again?” I asked. + +“I cannot,” she replied, “and, I pray you, neither do you. We need not +torture ourselves by gazing on the soulless body, while her living +spirit is buried quick in our hearts, and her surpassing loveliness is +so deeply carved there, that sleeping or waking she must ever be +present to us.” + +For a few moments, we bent in solemn silence over the open vault. I +consecrated my future life, to the embalming of her dear memory; I +vowed to serve her brother and her child till death. The convulsive sob +of my companion made me break off my internal orisons. I next dragged +the stones over the entrance of the tomb, and closed the gulph that +contained the life of my life. Then, supporting my decrepid +fellow-mourner, we slowly left the chapel. I felt, as I stepped into +the open air, as if I had quitted an happy nest of repose, for a dreary +wilderness, a tortuous path, a bitter, joyless, hopeless pilgrimage. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Our escort had been directed to prepare our abode for the night at the +inn, opposite the ascent to the Castle. We could not again visit the +halls and familiar chambers of our home, on a mere visit. We had +already left for ever the glades of Windsor, and all of coppice, +flowery hedgerow, and murmuring stream, which gave shape and intensity +to the love of our country, and the almost superstitious attachment +with which we regarded native England. It had been our intention to +have called at Lucy’s dwelling in Datchet, and to have re-assured her +with promises of aid and protection before we repaired to our quarters +for the night. Now, as the Countess of Windsor and I turned down the +steep hill that led from the Castle, we saw the children, who had just +stopped in their caravan, at the inn-door. They had passed through +Datchet without halting. I dreaded to meet them, and to be the bearer +of my tragic story, so while they were still occupied in the hurry of +arrival, I suddenly left them, and through the snow and clear +moon-light air, hastened along the well known road to Datchet. + +Well known indeed it was. Each cottage stood on its accustomed site, +each tree wore its familiar appearance. Habit had graven uneraseably on +my memory, every turn and change of object on the road. At a short +distance beyond the Little Park, was an elm half blown down by a storm, +some ten years ago; and still, with leafless snow-laden branches, it +stretched across the pathway, which wound through a meadow, beside a +shallow brook, whose brawling was silenced by frost—that stile, that +white gate, that hollow oak tree, which doubtless once belonged to the +forest, and which now shewed in the moonlight its gaping rent; to whose +fanciful appearance, tricked out by the dusk into a resemblance of the +human form, the children had given the name of Falstaff;—all these +objects were as well known to me as the cold hearth of my deserted +home, and every moss-grown wall and plot of orchard ground, alike as +twin lambs are to each other in a stranger’s eye, yet to my accustomed +gaze bore differences, distinction, and a name. England remained, +though England was dead—it was the ghost of merry England that I +beheld, under those greenwood shade passing generations had sported in +security and ease. To this painful recognition of familiar places, was +added a feeling experienced by all, understood by none—a feeling as if +in some state, less visionary than a dream, in some past real +existence, I had seen all I saw, with precisely the same feelings as I +now beheld them—as if all my sensations were a duplex mirror of a +former revelation. To get rid of this oppressive sense I strove to +imagine change in this tranquil spot—this augmented my mood, by causing +me to bestow more attention on the objects which occasioned me pain. + +I reached Datchet and Lucy’s humble abode—once noisy with Saturday +night revellers, or trim and neat on Sunday morning it had borne +testimony to the labours and orderly habits of the housewife. The snow +lay high about the door, as if it had remained unclosed for many days. + + “What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?” + +I muttered to myself as I looked at the dark casements. At first I +thought I saw a light in one of them, but it proved to be merely the +refraction of the moon-beams, while the only sound was the crackling +branches as the breeze whirred the snow flakes from them—the moon +sailed high and unclouded in the interminable ether, while the shadow +of the cottage lay black on the garden behind. I entered this by the +open wicket, and anxiously examined each window. At length I detected a +ray of light struggling through a closed shutter in one of the upper +rooms—it was a novel feeling, alas! to look at any house and say there +dwells its usual inmate—the door of the house was merely on the latch: +so I entered and ascended the moon-lit staircase. The door of the +inhabited room was ajar: looking in, I saw Lucy sitting as at work at +the table on which the light stood; the implements of needlework were +about her, but her hand had fallen on her lap, and her eyes, fixed on +the ground, shewed by their vacancy that her thoughts wandered. Traces +of care and watching had diminished her former attractions—but her +simple dress and cap, her desponding attitude, and the single candle +that cast its light upon her, gave for a moment a picturesque grouping +to the whole. A fearful reality recalled me from the thought—a figure +lay stretched on the bed covered by a sheet—her mother was dead, and +Lucy, apart from all the world, deserted and alone, watched beside the +corpse during the weary night. I entered the room, and my unexpected +appearance at first drew a scream from the lone survivor of a dead +nation; but she recognised me, and recovered herself, with the quick +exercise of self-control habitual to her. “Did you not expect me?” I +asked, in that low voice which the presence of the dead makes us as it +were instinctively assume. + +“You are very good,” replied she, “to have come yourself; I can never +thank you sufficiently; but it is too late.” + +“Too late,” cried I, “what do you mean? It is not too late to take you +from this deserted place, and conduct you to—-” + +My own loss, which I had forgotten as I spoke, now made me turn away, +while choking grief impeded my speech. I threw open the window, and +looked on the cold, waning, ghastly, misshaped circle on high, and the +chill white earth beneath—did the spirit of sweet Idris sail along the +moon-frozen crystal air?—No, no, a more genial atmosphere, a lovelier +habitation was surely hers! + +I indulged in this meditation for a moment, and then again addressed +the mourner, who stood leaning against the bed with that expression of +resigned despair, of complete misery, and a patient sufferance of it, +which is far more touching than any of the insane ravings or wild +gesticulation of untamed sorrow. I desired to draw her from this spot; +but she opposed my wish. That class of persons whose imagination and +sensibility have never been taken out of the narrow circle immediately +in view, if they possess these qualities to any extent, are apt to pour +their influence into the very realities which appear to destroy them, +and to cling to these with double tenacity from not being able to +comprehend any thing beyond. Thus Lucy, in desert England, in a dead +world, wished to fulfil the usual ceremonies of the dead, such as were +customary to the English country people, when death was a rare +visitant, and gave us time to receive his dreaded usurpation with pomp +and circumstance—going forth in procession to deliver the keys of the +tomb into his conquering hand. She had already, alone as she was, +accomplished some of these, and the work on which I found her employed, +was her mother’s shroud. My heart sickened at such detail of woe, which +a female can endure, but which is more painful to the masculine spirit +than deadliest struggle, or throes of unutterable but transient agony. + +This must not be, I told her; and then, as further inducement, I +communicated to her my recent loss, and gave her the idea that she must +come with me to take charge of the orphan children, whom the death of +Idris had deprived of a mother’s care. Lucy never resisted the call of +a duty, so she yielded, and closing the casements and doors with care, +she accompanied me back to Windsor. As we went she communicated to me +the occasion of her mother’s death. Either by some mischance she had +got sight of Lucy’s letter to Idris, or she had overheard her +conversation with the countryman who bore it; however it might be, she +obtained a knowledge of the appalling situation of herself and her +daughter, her aged frame could not sustain the anxiety and horror this +discovery instilled—she concealed her knowledge from Lucy, but brooded +over it through sleepless nights, till fever and delirium, swift +forerunners of death, disclosed the secret. Her life, which had long +been hovering on its extinction, now yielded at once to the united +effects of misery and sickness, and that same morning she had died. + +After the tumultuous emotions of the day, I was glad to find on my +arrival at the inn that my companions had retired to rest. I gave Lucy +in charge to the Countess’s attendant, and then sought repose from my +various struggles and impatient regrets. For a few moments the events +of the day floated in disastrous pageant through my brain, till sleep +bathed it in forgetfulness; when morning dawned and I awoke, it seemed +as if my slumber had endured for years. + +My companions had not shared my oblivion. Clara’s swollen eyes shewed +that she had passed the night in weeping. The Countess looked haggard +and wan. Her firm spirit had not found relief in tears, and she +suffered the more from all the painful retrospect and agonizing regret +that now occupied her. We departed from Windsor, as soon as the burial +rites had been performed for Lucy’s mother, and, urged on by an +impatient desire to change the scene, went forward towards Dover with +speed, our escort having gone before to provide horses; finding them +either in the warm stables they instinctively sought during the cold +weather, or standing shivering in the bleak fields ready to surrender +their liberty in exchange for offered corn. + +During our ride the Countess recounted to me the extraordinary +circumstances which had brought her so strangely to my side in the +chancel of St. George’s chapel. When last she had taken leave of Idris, +as she looked anxiously on her faded person and pallid countenance, she +had suddenly been visited by a conviction that she saw her for the last +time. It was hard to part with her while under the dominion of this +sentiment, and for the last time she endeavoured to persuade her +daughter to commit herself to her nursing, permitting me to join +Adrian. Idris mildly refused, and thus they separated. The idea that +they should never again meet grew on the Countess’s mind, and haunted +her perpetually; a thousand times she had resolved to turn back and +join us, and was again and again restrained by the pride and anger of +which she was the slave. Proud of heart as she was, she bathed her +pillow with nightly tears, and through the day was subdued by nervous +agitation and expectation of the dreaded event, which she was wholly +incapable of curbing. She confessed that at this period her hatred of +me knew no bounds, since she considered me as the sole obstacle to the +fulfilment of her dearest wish, that of attending upon her daughter in +her last moments. She desired to express her fears to her son, and to +seek consolation from his sympathy with, or courage from his rejection +of, her auguries. + +On the first day of her arrival at Dover she walked with him on the sea +beach, and with the timidity characteristic of passionate and +exaggerated feeling was by degrees bringing the conversation to the +desired point, when she could communicate her fears to him, when the +messenger who bore my letter announcing our temporary return to +Windsor, came riding down to them. He gave some oral account of how he +had left us, and added, that notwithstanding the cheerfulness and good +courage of Lady Idris, he was afraid that she would hardly reach +Windsor alive. “True,” said the Countess, “your fears are just, she is +about to expire!” + +As she spoke, her eyes were fixed on a tomblike hollow of the cliff, +and she saw, she averred the same to me with solemnity, Idris pacing +slowly towards this cave. She was turned from her, her head was bent +down, her white dress was such as she was accustomed to wear, except +that a thin crape-like veil covered her golden tresses, and concealed +her as a dim transparent mist. She looked dejected, as docilely +yielding to a commanding power; she submissively entered, and was lost +in the dark recess. + +“Were I subject to visionary moods,” said the venerable lady, as she +continued her narrative, “I might doubt my eyes, and condemn my +credulity; but reality is the world I live in, and what I saw I doubt +not had existence beyond myself. From that moment I could not rest; it +was worth my existence to see her once again before she died; I knew +that I should not accomplish this, yet I must endeavour. I immediately +departed for Windsor; and, though I was assured that we travelled +speedily, it seemed to me that our progress was snail-like, and that +delays were created solely for my annoyance. Still I accused you, and +heaped on your head the fiery ashes of my burning impatience. It was no +disappointment, though an agonizing pang, when you pointed to her last +abode; and words would ill express the abhorrence I that moment felt +towards you, the triumphant impediment to my dearest wishes. I saw her, +and anger, and hate, and injustice died at her bier, giving place at +their departure to a remorse (Great God, that I should feel it!) which +must last while memory and feeling endure.” + +To medicine such remorse, to prevent awakening love and new-born +mildness from producing the same bitter fruit that hate and harshness +had done, I devoted all my endeavours to soothe the venerable penitent. +Our party was a melancholy one; each was possessed by regret for what +was remediless; for the absence of his mother shadowed even the infant +gaiety of Evelyn. Added to this was the prospect of the uncertain +future. Before the final accomplishment of any great voluntary change +the mind vacillates, now soothing itself by fervent expectation, now +recoiling from obstacles which seem never to have presented themselves +before with so frightful an aspect. An involuntary tremor ran through +me when I thought that in another day we might have crossed the watery +barrier, and have set forward on that hopeless, interminable, sad +wandering, which but a short time before I regarded as the only relief +to sorrow that our situation afforded. + +Our approach to Dover was announced by the loud roarings of the wintry +sea. They were borne miles inland by the sound-laden blast, and by +their unaccustomed uproar, imparted a feeling of insecurity and peril +to our stable abode. At first we hardly permitted ourselves to think +that any unusual eruption of nature caused this tremendous war of air +and water, but rather fancied that we merely listened to what we had +heard a thousand times before, when we had watched the flocks of +fleece-crowned waves, driven by the winds, come to lament and die on +the barren sands and pointed rocks. But we found upon advancing +farther, that Dover was overflowed— many of the houses were overthrown +by the surges which filled the streets, and with hideous brawlings +sometimes retreated leaving the pavement of the town bare, till again +hurried forward by the influx of ocean, they returned with +thunder-sound to their usurped station. + +Hardly less disturbed than the tempestuous world of waters was the +assembly of human beings, that from the cliff fearfully watched its +ravings. On the morning of the arrival of the emigrants under the +conduct of Adrian, the sea had been serene and glassy, the slight +ripples refracted the sunbeams, which shed their radiance through the +clear blue frosty air. This placid appearance of nature was hailed as a +good augury for the voyage, and the chief immediately repaired to the +harbour to examine two steamboats which were moored there. On the +following midnight, when all were at rest, a frightful storm of wind +and clattering rain and hail first disturbed them, and the voice of one +shrieking in the streets, that the sleepers must awake or they would be +drowned; and when they rushed out, half clothed, to discover the +meaning of this alarm, they found that the tide, rising above every +mark, was rushing into the town. They ascended the cliff, but the +darkness permitted only the white crest of waves to be seen, while the +roaring wind mingled its howlings in dire accord with the wild surges. +The awful hour of night, the utter inexperience of many who had never +seen the sea before, the wailing of women and cries of children added +to the horror of the tumult. All the following day the same scene +continued. When the tide ebbed, the town was left dry; but on its flow, +it rose even higher than on the preceding night. The vast ships that +lay rotting in the roads were whirled from their anchorage, and driven +and jammed against the cliff, the vessels in the harbour were flung on +land like sea-weed, and there battered to pieces by the breakers. The +waves dashed against the cliff, which if in any place it had been +before loosened, now gave way, and the affrighted crowd saw vast +fragments of the near earth fall with crash and roar into the deep. +This sight operated differently on different persons. The greater part +thought it a judgment of God, to prevent or punish our emigration from +our native land. Many were doubly eager to quit a nook of ground now +become their prison, which appeared unable to resist the inroads of +ocean’s giant waves. + +When we arrived at Dover, after a fatiguing day’s journey, we all +required rest and sleep; but the scene acting around us soon drove away +such ideas. We were drawn, along with the greater part of our +companions, to the edge of the cliff, there to listen to and make a +thousand conjectures. A fog narrowed our horizon to about a quarter of +a mile, and the misty veil, cold and dense, enveloped sky and sea in +equal obscurity. What added to our inquietude was the circumstance that +two-thirds of our original number were now waiting for us in Paris, and +clinging, as we now did most painfully, to any addition to our +melancholy remnant, this division, with the tameless impassable ocean +between, struck us with affright. At length, after loitering for +several hours on the cliff, we retired to Dover Castle, whose roof +sheltered all who breathed the English air, and sought the sleep +necessary to restore strength and courage to our worn frames and +languid spirits. + +Early in the morning Adrian brought me the welcome intelligence that +the wind had changed: it had been south-west; it was now north-east. +The sky was stripped bare of clouds by the increasing gale, while the +tide at its ebb seceded entirely from the town. The change of wind +rather increased the fury of the sea, but it altered its late dusky hue +to a bright green; and in spite of its unmitigated clamour, its more +cheerful appearance instilled hope and pleasure. All day we watched the +ranging of the mountainous waves, and towards sunset a desire to +decypher the promise for the morrow at its setting, made us all gather +with one accord on the edge of the cliff. When the mighty luminary +approached within a few degrees of the tempest-tossed horizon, +suddenly, a wonder! three other suns, alike burning and brilliant, +rushed from various quarters of the heavens towards the great orb; they +whirled round it. The glare of light was intense to our dazzled eyes; +the sun itself seemed to join in the dance, while the sea burned like a +furnace, like all Vesuvius a-light, with flowing lava beneath. The +horses broke loose from their stalls in terror—a herd of cattle, panic +struck, raced down to the brink of the cliff, and blinded by light, +plunged down with frightful yells in the waves below. The time occupied +by the apparition of these meteors was comparatively short; suddenly +the three mock suns united in one, and plunged into the sea. A few +seconds afterwards, a deafening watery sound came up with awful peal +from the spot where they had disappeared. + +Meanwhile the sun, disencumbered from his strange satellites, paced +with its accustomed majesty towards its western home. When—we dared not +trust our eyes late dazzled, but it seemed that—the sea rose to meet +it—it mounted higher and higher, till the fiery globe was obscured, and +the wall of water still ascended the horizon; it appeared as if +suddenly the motion of earth was revealed to us—as if no longer we were +ruled by ancient laws, but were turned adrift in an unknown region of +space. Many cried aloud, that these were no meteors, but globes of +burning matter, which had set fire to the earth, and caused the vast +cauldron at our feet to bubble up with its measureless waves; the day +of judgment was come they averred, and a few moments would transport us +before the awful countenance of the omnipotent judge; while those less +given to visionary terrors, declared that two conflicting gales had +occasioned the last phaenomenon. In support of this opinion they +pointed out the fact that the east wind died away, while the rushing of +the coming west mingled its wild howl with the roar of the advancing +waters. Would the cliff resist this new battery? Was not the giant wave +far higher than the precipice? Would not our little island be deluged +by its approach? The crowd of spectators fled. They were dispersed over +the fields, stopping now and then, and looking back in terror. A +sublime sense of awe calmed the swift pulsations of my heart—I awaited +the approach of the destruction menaced, with that solemn resignation +which an unavoidable necessity instils. The ocean every moment assumed +a more terrific aspect, while the twilight was dimmed by the rack which +the west wind spread over the sky. By slow degrees however, as the wave +advanced, it took a more mild appearance; some under current of air, or +obstruction in the bed of the waters, checked its progress, and it sank +gradually; while the surface of the sea became uniformly higher as it +dissolved into it. This change took from us the fear of an immediate +catastrophe, although we were still anxious as to the final result. We +continued during the whole night to watch the fury of the sea and the +pace of the driving clouds, through whose openings the rare stars +rushed impetuously; the thunder of conflicting elements deprived us of +all power to sleep. + +This endured ceaselessly for three days and nights. The stoutest hearts +quailed before the savage enmity of nature; provisions began to fail +us, though every day foraging parties were dispersed to the nearer +towns. In vain we schooled ourselves into the belief, that there was +nothing out of the common order of nature in the strife we witnessed; +our disasterous and overwhelming destiny turned the best of us to +cowards. Death had hunted us through the course of many months, even to +the narrow strip of time on which we now stood; narrow indeed, and +buffeted by storms, was our footway overhanging the great sea of +calamity— + + As an unsheltered northern shore +Is shaken by the wintry wave— +And frequent storms for evermore, +(While from the west the loud winds rave, +Or from the east, or mountains hoar) +The struck and tott’ring sand-bank lave.[21] + + +It required more than human energy to bear up against the menaces of +destruction that every where surrounded us. + +After the lapse of three days, the gale died away, the sea-gull sailed +upon the calm bosom of the windless atmosphere, and the last yellow +leaf on the topmost branch of the oak hung without motion. The sea no +longer broke with fury; but a swell setting in steadily for shore, with +long sweep and sullen burst replaced the roar of the breakers. Yet we +derived hope from the change, and we did not doubt that after the +interval of a few days the sea would resume its tranquillity. The +sunset of the fourth day favoured this idea; it was clear and golden. +As we gazed on the purple sea, radiant beneath, we were attracted by a +novel spectacle; a dark speck—as it neared, visibly a boat—rode on the +top of the waves, every now and then lost in the steep vallies between. +We marked its course with eager questionings; and, when we saw that it +evidently made for shore, we descended to the only practicable landing +place, and hoisted a signal to direct them. By the help of glasses we +distinguished her crew; it consisted of nine men, Englishmen, belonging +in truth to the two divisions of our people, who had preceded us, and +had been for several weeks at Paris. As countryman was wont to meet +countryman in distant lands, did we greet our visitors on their +landing, with outstretched hands and gladsome welcome. They were slow +to reciprocate our gratulations. They looked angry and resentful; not +less than the chafed sea which they had traversed with imminent peril, +though apparently more displeased with each other than with us. It was +strange to see these human beings, who appeared to be given forth by +the earth like rare and inestimable plants, full of towering passion, +and the spirit of angry contest. Their first demand was to be conducted +to the Lord Protector of England, so they called Adrian, though he had +long discarded the empty title, as a bitter mockery of the shadow to +which the Protectorship was now reduced. They were speedily led to +Dover Castle, from whose keep Adrian had watched the movements of the +boat. He received them with the interest and wonder so strange a +visitation created. In the confusion occasioned by their angry demands +for precedence, it was long before we could discover the secret meaning +of this strange scene. By degrees, from the furious declamations of +one, the fierce interruptions of another, and the bitter scoffs of a +third, we found that they were deputies from our colony at Paris, from +three parties there formed, who, each with angry rivalry, tried to +attain a superiority over the other two. These deputies had been +dispatched by them to Adrian, who had been selected arbiter; and they +had journied from Paris to Calais, through the vacant towns and +desolate country, indulging the while violent hatred against each +other; and now they pleaded their several causes with unmitigated +party-spirit. + +By examining the deputies apart, and after much investigation, we +learnt the true state of things at Paris. Since parliament had elected +him Ryland’s deputy, all the surviving English had submitted to Adrian. +He was our captain to lead us from our native soil to unknown lands, +our lawgiver and our preserver. On the first arrangement of our scheme +of emigration, no continued separation of our members was contemplated, +and the command of the whole body in gradual ascent of power had its +apex in the Earl of Windsor. But unforeseen circumstances changed our +plans for us, and occasioned the greater part of our numbers to be +divided for the space of nearly two months, from the supreme chief. +They had gone over in two distinct bodies; and on their arrival at +Paris dissension arose between them. + +They had found Paris a desert. When first the plague had appeared, the +return of travellers and merchants, and communications by letter, +informed us regularly of the ravages made by disease on the continent. +But with the encreased mortality this intercourse declined and ceased. +Even in England itself communication from one part of the island to the +other became slow and rare. No vessel stemmed the flood that divided +Calais from Dover; or if some melancholy voyager, wishing to assure +himself of the life or death of his relatives, put from the French +shore to return among us, often the greedy ocean swallowed his little +craft, or after a day or two he was infected by the disorder, and died +before he could tell the tale of the desolation of France. We were +therefore to a great degree ignorant of the state of things on the +continent, and were not without some vague hope of finding numerous +companions in its wide track. But the same causes that had so fearfully +diminished the English nation had had even greater scope for mischief +in the sister land. France was a blank; during the long line of road +from Calais to Paris not one human being was found. In Paris there were +a few, perhaps a hundred, who, resigned to their coming fate, flitted +about the streets of the capital and assembled to converse of past +times, with that vivacity and even gaiety that seldom deserts the +individuals of this nation. + +The English took uncontested possession of Paris. Its high houses and +narrow streets were lifeless. A few pale figures were to be +distinguished at the accustomed resort at the Tuileries; they wondered +wherefore the islanders should approach their ill-fated city—for in the +excess of wretchedness, the sufferers always imagine, that their part +of the calamity is the bitterest, as, when enduring intense pain, we +would exchange the particular torture we writhe under, for any other +which should visit a different part of the frame. They listened to the +account the emigrants gave of their motives for leaving their native +land, with a shrug almost of disdain—“Return,” they said, “return to +your island, whose sea breezes, and division from the continent gives +some promise of health; if Pestilence among you has slain its hundreds, +with us it has slain its thousands. Are you not even now more numerous +than we are?—A year ago you would have found only the sick burying the +dead; now we are happier; for the pang of struggle has passed away, and +the few you find here are patiently waiting the final blow. But you, +who are not content to die, breathe no longer the air of France, or +soon you will only be a part of her soil.” + +Thus, by menaces of the sword, they would have driven back those who +had escaped from fire. But the peril left behind was deemed imminent by +my countrymen; that before them doubtful and distant; and soon other +feelings arose to obliterate fear, or to replace it by passions, that +ought to have had no place among a brotherhood of unhappy survivors of +the expiring world. + +The more numerous division of emigrants, which arrived first at Paris, +assumed a superiority of rank and power; the second party asserted +their independence. A third was formed by a sectarian, a self-erected +prophet, who, while he attributed all power and rule to God, strove to +get the real command of his comrades into his own hands. This third +division consisted of fewest individuals, but their purpose was more +one, their obedience to their leader more entire, their fortitude and +courage more unyielding and active. + +During the whole progress of the plague, the teachers of religion were +in possession of great power; a power of good, if rightly directed, or +of incalculable mischief, if fanaticism or intolerance guided their +efforts. In the present instance, a worse feeling than either of these +actuated the leader. He was an impostor in the most determined sense of +the term. A man who had in early life lost, through the indulgence of +vicious propensities, all sense of rectitude or self-esteem; and who, +when ambition was awakened in him, gave himself up to its influence +unbridled by any scruple. His father had been a methodist preacher, an +enthusiastic man with simple intentions; but whose pernicious doctrines +of election and special grace had contributed to destroy all +conscientious feeling in his son. During the progress of the pestilence +he had entered upon various schemes, by which to acquire adherents and +power. Adrian had discovered and defeated these attempts; but Adrian +was absent; the wolf assumed the shepherd’s garb, and the flock +admitted the deception: he had formed a party during the few weeks he +had been in Paris, who zealously propagated the creed of his divine +mission, and believed that safety and salvation were to be afforded +only to those who put their trust in him. + +When once the spirit of dissension had arisen, the most frivolous +causes gave it activity. The first party, on arriving at Paris, had +taken possession of the Tuileries; chance and friendly feeling had +induced the second to lodge near to them. A contest arose concerning +the distribution of the pillage; the chiefs of the first division +demanded that the whole should be placed at their disposal; with this +assumption the opposite party refused to comply. When next the latter +went to forage, the gates of Paris were shut on them. After overcoming +this difficulty, they marched in a body to the Tuileries. They found +that their enemies had been already expelled thence by the Elect, as +the fanatical party designated themselves, who refused to admit any +into the palace who did not first abjure obedience to all except God, +and his delegate on earth, their chief. Such was the beginning of the +strife, which at length proceeded so far, that the three divisions, +armed, met in the Place Vendome, each resolved to subdue by force the +resistance of its adversaries. They assembled, their muskets were +loaded, and even pointed at the breasts of their so called enemies. One +word had been sufficient; and there the last of mankind would have +burthened their souls with the crime of murder, and dipt their hands in +each other’s blood. A sense of shame, a recollection that not only +their cause, but the existence of the whole human race was at stake, +entered the breast of the leader of the more numerous party. He was +aware, that if the ranks were thinned, no other recruits could fill +them up; that each man was as a priceless gem in a kingly crown, which +if destroyed, the earth’s deep entrails could yield no paragon. He was +a young man, and had been hurried on by presumption, and the notion of +his high rank and superiority to all other pretenders; now he repented +his work, he felt that all the blood about to be shed would be on his +head; with sudden impulse therefore he spurred his horse between the +bands, and, having fixed a white handkerchief on the point of his +uplifted sword, thus demanded parley; the opposite leaders obeyed the +signal. He spoke with warmth; he reminded them of the oath all the +chiefs had taken to submit to the Lord Protector; he declared their +present meeting to be an act of treason and mutiny; he allowed that he +had been hurried away by passion, but that a cooler moment had arrived; +and he proposed that each party should send deputies to the Earl of +Windsor, inviting his interference and offering submission to his +decision. His offer was accepted so far, that each leader consented to +command a retreat, and moreover agreed, that after the approbation of +their several parties had been consulted, they should meet that night +on some neutral spot to ratify the truce. At the meeting of the chiefs, +this plan was finally concluded upon. The leader of the fanatics indeed +refused to admit the arbitration of Adrian; he sent ambassadors, rather +than deputies, to assert his claim, not plead his cause. + +The truce was to continue until the first of February, when the bands +were again to assemble on the Place Vendome; it was of the utmost +consequence therefore that Adrian should arrive in Paris by that day, +since an hair might turn the scale, and peace, scared away by intestine +broils, might only return to watch by the silent dead. It was now the +twenty-eighth of January; every vessel stationed near Dover had been +beaten to pieces and destroyed by the furious storms I have +commemorated. Our journey however would admit of no delay. That very +night, Adrian, and I, and twelve others, either friends or attendants, +put off from the English shore, in the boat that had brought over the +deputies. We all took our turn at the oar; and the immediate occasion +of our departure affording us abundant matter for conjecture and +discourse, prevented the feeling that we left our native country, +depopulate England, for the last time, to enter deeply into the minds +of the greater part of our number. It was a serene starlight night, and +the dark line of the English coast continued for some time visible at +intervals, as we rose on the broad back of the waves. I exerted myself +with my long oar to give swift impulse to our skiff; and, while the +waters splashed with melancholy sound against its sides, I looked with +sad affection on this last glimpse of sea-girt England, and strained my +eyes not too soon to lose sight of the castellated cliff, which rose to +protect the land of heroism and beauty from the inroads of ocean, that, +turbulent as I had lately seen it, required such cyclopean walls for +its repulsion. A solitary sea-gull winged its flight over our heads, to +seek its nest in a cleft of the precipice. Yes, thou shalt revisit the +land of thy birth, I thought, as I looked invidiously on the airy +voyager; but we shall, never more! Tomb of Idris, farewell! Grave, in +which my heart lies sepultured, farewell for ever! + +We were twelve hours at sea, and the heavy swell obliged us to exert +all our strength. At length, by mere dint of rowing, we reached the +French coast. The stars faded, and the grey morning cast a dim veil +over the silver horns of the waning moon—the sun rose broad and red +from the sea, as we walked over the sands to Calais. Our first care was +to procure horses, and although wearied by our night of watching and +toil, some of our party immediately went in quest of these in the wide +fields of the unenclosed and now barren plain round Calais. We divided +ourselves, like seamen, into watches, and some reposed, while others +prepared the morning’s repast. Our foragers returned at noon with only +six horses—on these, Adrian and I, and four others, proceeded on our +journey towards the great city, which its inhabitants had fondly named +the capital of the civilized world. Our horses had become, through +their long holiday, almost wild, and we crossed the plain round Calais +with impetuous speed. From the height near Boulogne, I turned again to +look on England; nature had cast a misty pall over her, her cliff was +hidden—there was spread the watery barrier that divided us, never again +to be crossed; she lay on the ocean plain, + +In the great pool a swan’s nest. + + +Ruined the nest, alas! the swans of Albion had passed away for ever—an +uninhabited rock in the wide Pacific, which had remained since the +creation uninhabited, unnamed, unmarked, would be of as much account in +the world’s future history, as desert England. + +Our journey was impeded by a thousand obstacles. As our horses grew +tired, we had to seek for others; and hours were wasted, while we +exhausted our artifices to allure some of these enfranchised slaves of +man to resume the yoke; or as we went from stable to stable through the +towns, hoping to find some who had not forgotten the shelter of their +native stalls. Our ill success in procuring them, obliged us +continually to leave some one of our companions behind; and on the +first of February, Adrian and I entered Paris, wholly unaccompanied. +The serene morning had dawned when we arrived at Saint Denis, and the +sun was high, when the clamour of voices, and the clash, as we feared, +of weapons, guided us to where our countrymen had assembled on the +Place Vendome. We passed a knot of Frenchmen, who were talking +earnestly of the madness of the insular invaders, and then coming by a +sudden turn upon the Place, we saw the sun glitter on drawn swords and +fixed bayonets, while yells and clamours rent the air. It was a scene +of unaccustomed confusion in these days of depopulation. Roused by +fancied wrongs, and insulting scoffs, the opposite parties had rushed +to attack each other; while the elect, drawn up apart, seemed to wait +an opportunity to fall with better advantage on their foes, when they +should have mutually weakened each other. A merciful power interposed, +and no blood was shed; for, while the insane mob were in the very act +of attack, the females, wives, mothers and daughters, rushed between; +they seized the bridles; they embraced the knees of the horsemen, and +hung on the necks, or enweaponed arms of their enraged relatives; the +shrill female scream was mingled with the manly shout, and formed the +wild clamour that welcomed us on our arrival. + +Our voices could not be heard in the tumult; Adrian however was eminent +for the white charger he rode; spurring him, he dashed into the midst +of the throng: he was recognized, and a loud cry raised for England and +the Protector. The late adversaries, warmed to affection at the sight +of him, joined in heedless confusion, and surrounded him; the women +kissed his hands, and the edges of his garments; nay, his horse +received tribute of their embraces; some wept their welcome; he +appeared an angel of peace descended among them; and the only danger +was, that his mortal nature would be demonstrated, by his suffocation +from the kindness of his friends. His voice was at length heard, and +obeyed; the crowd fell back; the chiefs alone rallied round him. I had +seen Lord Raymond ride through his lines; his look of victory, and +majestic mien obtained the respect and obedience of all: such was not +the appearance or influence of Adrian. His slight figure, his fervent +look, his gesture, more of deprecation than rule, were proofs that +love, unmingled with fear, gave him dominion over the hearts of a +multitude, who knew that he never flinched from danger, nor was +actuated by other motives than care for the general welfare. No +distinction was now visible between the two parties, late ready to shed +each other’s blood, for, though neither would submit to the other, they +both yielded ready obedience to the Earl of Windsor. + +One party however remained, cut off from the rest, which did not +sympathize in the joy exhibited on Adrian’s arrival, or imbibe the +spirit of peace, which fell like dew upon the softened hearts of their +countrymen. At the head of this assembly was a ponderous, dark-looking +man, whose malign eye surveyed with gloating delight the stern looks of +his followers. They had hitherto been inactive, but now, perceiving +themselves to be forgotten in the universal jubilee, they advanced with +threatening gestures: our friends had, as it were in wanton contention, +attacked each other; they wanted but to be told that their cause was +one, for it to become so: their mutual anger had been a fire of straw, +compared to the slow-burning hatred they both entertained for these +seceders, who seized a portion of the world to come, there to entrench +and incastellate themselves, and to issue with fearful sally, and +appalling denunciations, on the mere common children of the earth. The +first advance of the little army of the elect reawakened their rage; +they grasped their arms, and waited but their leader’s signal to +commence the attack, when the clear tones of Adrian’s voice were heard, +commanding them to fall back; with confused murmur and hurried retreat, +as the wave ebbs clamorously from the sands it lately covered, our +friends obeyed. Adrian rode singly into the space between the opposing +bands; he approached the hostile leader, as requesting him to imitate +his example, but his look was not obeyed, and the chief advanced, +followed by his whole troop. There were many women among them, who +seemed more eager and resolute than their male companions. They pressed +round their leader, as if to shield him, while they loudly bestowed on +him every sacred denomination and epithet of worship. Adrian met them +half way; they halted: “What,” he said, “do you seek? Do you require +any thing of us that we refuse to give, and that you are forced to +acquire by arms and warfare?” + +His questions were answered by a general cry, in which the words +election, sin, and red right arm of God, could alone be heard. + +Adrian looked expressly at their leader, saying, “Can you not silence +your followers? Mine, you perceive, obey me.” + +The fellow answered by a scowl; and then, perhaps fearful that his +people should become auditors of the debate he expected to ensue, he +commanded them to fall back, and advanced by himself. “What, I again +ask,” said Adrian, “do you require of us?” + +“Repentance,” replied the man, whose sinister brow gathered clouds as +he spoke. “Obedience to the will of the Most High, made manifest to +these his Elected People. Do we not all die through your sins, O +generation of unbelief, and have we not a right to demand of you +repentance and obedience?” + +“And if we refuse them, what then?” his opponent inquired mildly. + +“Beware,” cried the man, “God hears you, and will smite your stony +heart in his wrath; his poisoned arrows fly, his dogs of death are +unleashed! We will not perish unrevenged—and mighty will our avenger +be, when he descends in visible majesty, and scatters destruction among +you.” + +“My good fellow,” said Adrian, with quiet scorn, “I wish that you were +ignorant only, and I think it would be no difficult task to prove to +you, that you speak of what you do not understand. On the present +occasion however, it is enough for me to know that you seek nothing of +us; and, heaven is our witness, we seek nothing of you. I should be +sorry to embitter by strife the few days that we any of us may have +here to live; when there,” he pointed downwards, “we shall not be able +to contend, while here we need not. Go home, or stay; pray to your God +in your own mode; your friends may do the like. My orisons consist in +peace and good will, in resignation and hope. Farewell!” + +He bowed slightly to the angry disputant who was about to reply; and, +turning his horse down Rue Saint Honore, called on his friends to +follow him. He rode slowly, to give time to all to join him at the +Barrier, and then issued his orders that those who yielded obedience to +him, should rendezvous at Versailles. In the meantime he remained +within the walls of Paris, until he had secured the safe retreat of +all. In about a fortnight the remainder of the emigrants arrived from +England, and they all repaired to Versailles; apartments were prepared +for the family of the Protector in the Grand Trianon, and there, after +the excitement of these events, we reposed amidst the luxuries of the +departed Bourbons. + + [21] Chorus in Œdipus Coloneus. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +After the repose of a few days, we held a council, to decide on our +future movements. Our first plan had been to quit our wintry native +latitude, and seek for our diminished numbers the luxuries and delights +of a southern climate. We had not fixed on any precise spot as the +termination of our wanderings; but a vague picture of perpetual spring, +fragrant groves, and sparkling streams, floated in our imagination to +entice us on. A variety of causes had detained us in England, and we +had now arrived at the middle of February; if we pursued our original +project, we should find ourselves in a worse situation than before, +having exchanged our temperate climate for the intolerable heats of a +summer in Egypt or Persia. We were therefore obliged to modify our +plan, as the season continued to be inclement; and it was determined +that we should await the arrival of spring in our present abode, and so +order our future movements as to pass the hot months in the icy vallies +of Switzerland, deferring our southern progress until the ensuing +autumn, if such a season was ever again to be beheld by us. + +The castle and town of Versailles afforded our numbers ample +accommodation, and foraging parties took it by turns to supply our +wants. There was a strange and appalling motley in the situation of +these the last of the race. At first I likened it to a colony, which +borne over the far seas, struck root for the first time in a new +country. But where was the bustle and industry characteristic of such +an assemblage; the rudely constructed dwelling, which was to suffice +till a more commodious mansion could be built; the marking out of +fields; the attempt at cultivation; the eager curiosity to discover +unknown animals and herbs; the excursions for the sake of exploring the +country? Our habitations were palaces—our food was ready stored in +granaries—there was no need of labour, no inquisitiveness, no restless +desire to get on. If we had been assured that we should secure the +lives of our present numbers, there would have been more vivacity and +hope in our councils. We should have discussed as to the period when +the existing produce for man’s sustenance would no longer suffice for +us, and what mode of life we should then adopt. We should have +considered more carefully our future plans, and debated concerning the +spot where we should in future dwell. But summer and the plague were +near, and we dared not look forward. Every heart sickened at the +thought of amusement; if the younger part of our community were ever +impelled, by youthful and untamed hilarity, to enter on any dance or +song, to cheer the melancholy time, they would suddenly break off, +checked by a mournful look or agonizing sigh from any one among them, +who was prevented by sorrows and losses from mingling in the festivity. +If laughter echoed under our roof, yet the heart was vacant of joy; +and, when ever it chanced that I witnessed such attempts at pastime, +they encreased instead of diminishing my sense of woe. In the midst of +the pleasure-hunting throng, I would close my eyes, and see before me +the obscure cavern, where was garnered the mortality of Idris, and the +dead lay around, mouldering in hushed repose. When I again became aware +of the present hour, softest melody of Lydian flute, or harmonious maze +of graceful dance, was but as the demoniac chorus in the Wolf’s Glen, +and the caperings of the reptiles that surrounded the magic circle. + +My dearest interval of peace occurred, when, released from the +obligation of associating with the crowd, I could repose in the dear +home where my children lived. Children I say, for the tenderest +emotions of paternity bound me to Clara. She was now fourteen; sorrow, +and deep insight into the scenes around her, calmed the restless spirit +of girlhood; while the remembrance of her father whom she idolized, and +respect for me and Adrian, implanted an high sense of duty in her young +heart. Though serious she was not sad; the eager desire that makes us +all, when young, plume our wings, and stretch our necks, that we may +more swiftly alight tiptoe on the height of maturity, was subdued in +her by early experience. All that she could spare of overflowing love +from her parents’ memory, and attention to her living relatives, was +spent upon religion. This was the hidden law of her heart, which she +concealed with childish reserve, and cherished the more because it was +secret. What faith so entire, what charity so pure, what hope so +fervent, as that of early youth? and she, all love, all tenderness and +trust, who from infancy had been tossed on the wide sea of passion and +misfortune, saw the finger of apparent divinity in all, and her best +hope was to make herself acceptable to the power she worshipped. Evelyn +was only five years old; his joyous heart was incapable of sorrow, and +he enlivened our house with the innocent mirth incident to his years. + +The aged Countess of Windsor had fallen from her dream of power, rank +and grandeur; she had been suddenly seized with the conviction, that +love was the only good of life, virtue the only ennobling distinction +and enriching wealth. Such a lesson had been taught her by the dead +lips of her neglected daughter; and she devoted herself, with all the +fiery violence of her character, to the obtaining the affection of the +remnants of her family. In early years the heart of Adrian had been +chilled towards her; and, though he observed a due respect, her +coldness, mixed with the recollection of disappointment and madness, +caused him to feel even pain in her society. She saw this, and yet +determined to win his love; the obstacle served the rather to excite +her ambition. As Henry, Emperor of Germany, lay in the snow before Pope +Leo’s gate for three winter days and nights, so did she in humility +wait before the icy barriers of his closed heart, till he, the servant +of love, and prince of tender courtesy, opened it wide for her +admittance, bestowing, with fervency and gratitude, the tribute of +filial affection she merited. Her understanding, courage, and presence +of mind, became powerful auxiliaries to him in the difficult task of +ruling the tumultuous crowd, which were subjected to his control, in +truth by a single hair. + +The principal circumstances that disturbed our tranquillity during this +interval, originated in the vicinity of the impostor-prophet and his +followers. They continued to reside at Paris; but missionaries from +among them often visited Versailles—and such was the power of +assertions, however false, yet vehemently iterated, over the ready +credulity of the ignorant and fearful, that they seldom failed in +drawing over to their party some from among our numbers. An instance of +this nature coming immediately under our notice, we were led to +consider the miserable state in which we should leave our countrymen, +when we should, at the approach of summer, move on towards Switzerland, +and leave a deluded crew behind us in the hands of their miscreant +leader. The sense of the smallness of our numbers, and expectation of +decrease, pressed upon us; and, while it would be a subject of +congratulation to ourselves to add one to our party, it would be doubly +gratifying to rescue from the pernicious influence of superstition and +unrelenting tyranny, the victims that now, though voluntarily +enchained, groaned beneath it. If we had considered the preacher as +sincere in a belief of his own denunciations, or only moderately +actuated by kind feeling in the exercise of his assumed powers, we +should have immediately addressed ourselves to him, and endeavoured +with our best arguments to soften and humanize his views. But he was +instigated by ambition, he desired to rule over these last stragglers +from the fold of death; his projects went so far, as to cause him to +calculate that, if, from these crushed remains, a few survived, so that +a new race should spring up, he, by holding tight the reins of belief, +might be remembered by the post-pestilential race as a patriarch, a +prophet, nay a deity; such as of old among the post-diluvians were +Jupiter the conqueror, Serapis the lawgiver, and Vishnou the preserver. +These ideas made him inflexible in his rule, and violent in his hate of +any who presumed to share with him his usurped empire. + +It is a strange fact, but incontestible, that the philanthropist, who +ardent in his desire to do good, who patient, reasonable and gentle, +yet disdains to use other argument than truth, has less influence over +men’s minds, than he who, grasping and selfish, refuses not to adopt +any means, nor awaken any passion, nor diffuse any falsehood, for the +advancement of his cause. If this from time immemorial has been the +case, the contrast was infinitely greater, now that the one could bring +harrowing fears and transcendent hopes into play; while the other had +few hopes to hold forth, nor could influence the imagination to +diminish the fears which he himself was the first to entertain. The +preacher had persuaded his followers, that their escape from the +plague, the salvation of their children, and the rise of a new race of +men from their seed, depended on their faith in, and their submission +to him. They greedily imbibed this belief; and their over-weening +credulity even rendered them eager to make converts to the same faith. + +How to seduce any individuals from such an alliance of fraud, was a +frequent subject of Adrian’s meditations and discourse. He formed many +plans for the purpose; but his own troop kept him in full occupation to +ensure their fidelity and safety; beside which the preacher was as +cautious and prudent, as he was cruel. His victims lived under the +strictest rules and laws, which either entirely imprisoned them within +the Tuileries, or let them out in such numbers, and under such leaders, +as precluded the possibility of controversy. There was one among them +however whom I resolved to save; she had been known to us in happier +days; Idris had loved her; and her excellent nature made it peculiarly +lamentable that she should be sacrificed by this merciless cannibal of +souls. + +This man had between two and three hundred persons enlisted under his +banners. More than half of them were women; there were about fifty +children of all ages; and not more than eighty men. They were mostly +drawn from that which, when such distinctions existed, was denominated +the lower rank of society. The exceptions consisted of a few high-born +females, who, panic-struck, and tamed by sorrow, had joined him. Among +these was one, young, lovely, and enthusiastic, whose very goodness +made her a more easy victim. I have mentioned her before: Juliet, the +youngest daughter, and now sole relic of the ducal house of L—-. There +are some beings, whom fate seems to select on whom to pour, in +unmeasured portion, the vials of her wrath, and whom she bathes even to +the lips in misery. Such a one was the ill-starred Juliet. She had lost +her indulgent parents, her brothers and sisters, companions of her +youth; in one fell swoop they had been carried off from her. Yet she +had again dared to call herself happy; united to her admirer, to him +who possessed and filled her whole heart, she yielded to the lethean +powers of love, and knew and felt only his life and presence. At the +very time when with keen delight she welcomed the tokens of maternity, +this sole prop of her life failed, her husband died of the plague. For +a time she had been lulled in insanity; the birth of her child restored +her to the cruel reality of things, but gave her at the same time an +object for whom to preserve at once life and reason. Every friend and +relative had died off, and she was reduced to solitude and penury; deep +melancholy and angry impatience distorted her judgment, so that she +could not persuade herself to disclose her distress to us. When she +heard of the plan of universal emigration, she resolved to remain +behind with her child, and alone in wide England to live or die, as +fate might decree, beside the grave of her beloved. She had hidden +herself in one of the many empty habitations of London; it was she who +rescued my Idris on the fatal twentieth of November, though my +immediate danger, and the subsequent illness of Idris, caused us to +forget our hapless friend. This circumstance had however brought her +again in contact with her fellow-creatures; a slight illness of her +infant, proved to her that she was still bound to humanity by an +indestructible tie; to preserve this little creature’s life became the +object of her being, and she joined the first division of migrants who +went over to Paris. + +She became an easy prey to the methodist; her sensibility and acute +fears rendered her accessible to every impulse; her love for her child +made her eager to cling to the merest straw held out to save him. Her +mind, once unstrung, and now tuned by roughest inharmonious hands, made +her credulous: beautiful as fabled goddess, with voice of unrivalled +sweetness, burning with new lighted enthusiasm, she became a stedfast +proselyte, and powerful auxiliary to the leader of the elect. I had +remarked her in the crowd, on the day we met on the Place Vendome; and, +recollecting suddenly her providential rescue of my lost one, on the +night of the twentieth of November, I reproached myself for my neglect +and ingratitude, and felt impelled to leave no means that I could adopt +untried, to recall her to her better self, and rescue her from the +fangs of the hypocrite destroyer. + +I will not, at this period of my story, record the artifices I used to +penetrate the asylum of the Tuileries, or give what would be a tedious +account of my stratagems, disappointments, and perseverance. I at last +succeeded in entering these walls, and roamed its halls and corridors +in eager hope to find my selected convert. In the evening I contrived +to mingle unobserved with the congregation, which assembled in the +chapel to listen to the crafty and eloquent harangue of their prophet. +I saw Juliet near him. Her dark eyes, fearfully impressed with the +restless glare of madness, were fixed on him; she held her infant, not +yet a year old, in her arms; and care of it alone could distract her +attention from the words to which she eagerly listened. After the +sermon was over, the congregation dispersed; all quitted the chapel +except she whom I sought; her babe had fallen asleep; so she placed it +on a cushion, and sat on the floor beside, watching its tranquil +slumber. + +I presented myself to her; for a moment natural feeling produced a +sentiment of gladness, which disappeared again, when with ardent and +affectionate exhortation I besought her to accompany me in flight from +this den of superstition and misery. In a moment she relapsed into the +delirium of fanaticism, and, but that her gentle nature forbade, would +have loaded me with execrations. She conjured me, she commanded me to +leave her— “Beware, O beware,” she cried, “fly while yet your escape is +practicable. Now you are safe; but strange sounds and inspirations come +on me at times, and if the Eternal should in awful whisper reveal to me +his will, that to save my child you must be sacrificed, I would call in +the satellites of him you call the tyrant; they would tear you limb +from limb; nor would I hallow the death of him whom Idris loved, by a +single tear.” + +She spoke hurriedly, with tuneless voice, and wild look; her child +awoke, and, frightened, began to cry; each sob went to the ill-fated +mother’s heart, and she mingled the epithets of endearment she +addressed to her infant, with angry commands that I should leave her. +Had I had the means, I would have risked all, have torn her by force +from the murderer’s den, and trusted to the healing balm of reason and +affection. But I had no choice, no power even of longer struggle; steps +were heard along the gallery, and the voice of the preacher drew near. +Juliet, straining her child in a close embrace, fled by another +passage. Even then I would have followed her; but my foe and his +satellites entered; I was surrounded, and taken prisoner. + +I remembered the menace of the unhappy Juliet, and expected the full +tempest of the man’s vengeance, and the awakened wrath of his +followers, to fall instantly upon me. I was questioned. My answers were +simple and sincere. “His own mouth condemns him,” exclaimed the +impostor; “he confesses that his intention was to seduce from the way +of salvation our well-beloved sister in God; away with him to the +dungeon; to-morrow he dies the death; we are manifestly called upon to +make an example, tremendous and appalling, to scare the children of sin +from our asylum of the saved.” + +My heart revolted from his hypocritical jargon: but it was unworthy of +me to combat in words with the ruffian; and my answer was cool; while, +far from being possessed with fear, methought, even at the worst, a man +true to himself, courageous and determined, could fight his way, even +from the boards of the scaffold, through the herd of these misguided +maniacs. “Remember,” I said, “who I am; and be well assured that I +shall not die unavenged. Your legal magistrate, the Lord Protector, +knew of my design, and is aware that I am here; the cry of blood will +reach him, and you and your miserable victims will long lament the +tragedy you are about to act.” + +My antagonist did not deign to reply, even by a look;—“You know your +duty,” he said to his comrades,—“obey.” + +In a moment I was thrown on the earth, bound, blindfolded, and hurried +away —liberty of limb and sight was only restored to me, when, +surrounded by dungeon-walls, dark and impervious, I found myself a +prisoner and alone. + +Such was the result of my attempt to gain over the proselyte of this +man of crime; I could not conceive that he would dare put me to +death.—Yet I was in his hands; the path of his ambition had ever been +dark and cruel; his power was founded upon fear; the one word which +might cause me to die, unheard, unseen, in the obscurity of my dungeon, +might be easier to speak than the deed of mercy to act. He would not +risk probably a public execution; but a private assassination would at +once terrify any of my companions from attempting a like feat, at the +same time that a cautious line of conduct might enable him to avoid the +enquiries and the vengeance of Adrian. + +Two months ago, in a vault more obscure than the one I now inhabited, I +had revolved the design of quietly laying me down to die; now I +shuddered at the approach of fate. My imagination was busied in shaping +forth the kind of death he would inflict. Would he allow me to wear out +life with famine; or was the food administered to me to be medicined +with death? Would he steal on me in my sleep; or should I contend to +the last with my murderers, knowing, even while I struggled, that I +must be overcome? I lived upon an earth whose diminished population a +child’s arithmetic might number; I had lived through long months with +death stalking close at my side, while at intervals the shadow of his +skeleton-shape darkened my path. I had believed that I despised the +grim phantom, and laughed his power to scorn. + +Any other fate I should have met with courage, nay, have gone out +gallantly to encounter. But to be murdered thus at the midnight hour by +cold-blooded assassins, no friendly hand to close my eyes, or receive +my parting blessing—to die in combat, hate and execration—ah, why, my +angel love, didst thou restore me to life, when already I had stepped +within the portals of the tomb, now that so soon again I was to be +flung back a mangled corpse! + +Hours passed—centuries. Could I give words to the many thoughts which +occupied me in endless succession during this interval, I should fill +volumes. The air was dank, the dungeon-floor mildewed and icy cold; +hunger came upon me too, and no sound reached me from without. +To-morrow the ruffian had declared that I should die. When would +to-morrow come? Was it not already here? + +My door was about to be opened. I heard the key turn, and the bars and +bolts slowly removed. The opening of intervening passages permitted +sounds from the interior of the palace to reach me; and I heard the +clock strike one. They come to murder me, I thought; this hour does not +befit a public execution. I drew myself up against the wall opposite +the entrance; I collected my forces, I rallied my courage, I would not +fall a tame prey. Slowly the door receded on its hinges—I was ready to +spring forward to seize and grapple with the intruder, till the sight +of who it was changed at once the temper of my mind. It was Juliet +herself; pale and trembling she stood, a lamp in her hand, on the +threshold of the dungeon, looking at me with wistful countenance. But +in a moment she re-assumed her self-possession; and her languid eyes +recovered their brilliancy. She said, “I am come to save you, Verney.” + +“And yourself also,” I cried: “dearest friend, can we indeed be saved?” + +“Not a word,” she replied, “follow me!” + +I obeyed instantly. We threaded with light steps many corridors, +ascended several flights of stairs, and passed through long galleries; +at the end of one she unlocked a low portal; a rush of wind +extinguished our lamp; but, in lieu of it, we had the blessed +moon-beams and the open face of heaven. Then first Juliet spoke:—“You +are safe,” she said, “God bless you!— farewell!” + +I seized her reluctant hand—“Dear friend,” I cried, “misguided victim, +do you not intend to escape with me? Have you not risked all in +facilitating my flight? and do you think, that I will permit you to +return, and suffer alone the effects of that miscreant’s rage? Never!” + +“Do not fear for me,” replied the lovely girl mournfully, “and do not +imagine that without the consent of our chief you could be without +these walls. It is he that has saved you; he assigned to me the part of +leading you hither, because I am best acquainted with your motives for +coming here, and can best appreciate his mercy in permitting you to +depart.” + +“And are you,” I cried, “the dupe of this man? He dreads me alive as an +enemy, and dead he fears my avengers. By favouring this clandestine +escape he preserves a shew of consistency to his followers; but mercy +is far from his heart. Do you forget his artifices, his cruelty, and +fraud? As I am free, so are you. Come, Juliet, the mother of our lost +Idris will welcome you, the noble Adrian will rejoice to receive you; +you will find peace and love, and better hopes than fanaticism can +afford. Come, and fear not; long before day we shall be at Versailles; +close the door on this abode of crime —come, sweet Juliet, from +hypocrisy and guilt to the society of the affectionate and good.” + +I spoke hurriedly, but with fervour: and while with gentle violence I +drew her from the portal, some thought, some recollection of past +scenes of youth and happiness, made her listen and yield to me; +suddenly she broke away with a piercing shriek:—“My child, my child! he +has my child; my darling girl is my hostage.” + +She darted from me into the passage; the gate closed between us—she was +left in the fangs of this man of crime, a prisoner, still to inhale the +pestilential atmosphere which adhered to his demoniac nature; the +unimpeded breeze played on my cheek, the moon shone graciously upon me, +my path was free. Glad to have escaped, yet melancholy in my very joy, +I retrod my steps to Versailles. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Eventful winter passed; winter, the respite of our ills. By degrees the +sun, which with slant beams had before yielded the more extended reign +to night, lengthened his diurnal journey, and mounted his highest +throne, at once the fosterer of earth’s new beauty, and her lover. We +who, like flies that congregate upon a dry rock at the ebbing of the +tide, had played wantonly with time, allowing our passions, our hopes, +and our mad desires to rule us, now heard the approaching roar of the +ocean of destruction, and would have fled to some sheltered crevice, +before the first wave broke over us. We resolved without delay, to +commence our journey to Switzerland; we became eager to leave France. +Under the icy vaults of the glaciers, beneath the shadow of the pines, +the swinging of whose mighty branches was arrested by a load of snow; +beside the streams whose intense cold proclaimed their origin to be +from the slow-melting piles of congelated waters, amidst frequent +storms which might purify the air, we should find health, if in truth +health were not herself diseased. + +We began our preparations at first with alacrity. We did not now bid +adieu to our native country, to the graves of those we loved, to the +flowers, and streams, and trees, which had lived beside us from +infancy. Small sorrow would be ours on leaving Paris. A scene of shame, +when we remembered our late contentions, and thought that we left +behind a flock of miserable, deluded victims, bending under the tyranny +of a selfish impostor. Small pangs should we feel in leaving the +gardens, woods, and halls of the palaces of the Bourbons at Versailles, +which we feared would soon be tainted by the dead, when we looked +forward to vallies lovelier than any garden, to mighty forests and +halls, built not for mortal majesty, but palaces of nature’s own, with +the Alp of marmoreal whiteness for their walls, the sky for their roof. + +Yet our spirits flagged, as the day drew near which we had fixed for +our departure. Dire visions and evil auguries, if such things were, +thickened around us, so that in vain might men say— + +These are their reasons, they are natural,[22] + + +we felt them to be ominous, and dreaded the future event enchained to +them. That the night owl should screech before the noon-day sun, that +the hard-winged bat should wheel around the bed of beauty, that +muttering thunder should in early spring startle the cloudless air, +that sudden and exterminating blight should fall on the tree and shrub, +were unaccustomed, but physical events, less horrible than the mental +creations of almighty fear. Some had sight of funeral processions, and +faces all begrimed with tears, which flitted through the long avenues +of the gardens, and drew aside the curtains of the sleepers at dead of +night. Some heard wailing and cries in the air; a mournful chaunt would +stream through the dark atmosphere, as if spirits above sang the +requiem of the human race. What was there in all this, but that fear +created other senses within our frames, making us see, hear, and feel +what was not? What was this, but the action of diseased imaginations +and childish credulity? So might it be; but what was most real, was the +existence of these very fears; the staring looks of horror, the faces +pale even to ghastliness, the voices struck dumb with harrowing dread, +of those among us who saw and heard these things. Of this number was +Adrian, who knew the delusion, yet could not cast off the clinging +terror. Even ignorant infancy appeared with timorous shrieks and +convulsions to acknowledge the presence of unseen powers. We must go: +in change of scene, in occupation, and such security as we still hoped +to find, we should discover a cure for these gathering horrors. + +On mustering our company, we found them to consist of fourteen hundred +souls, men, women, and children. Until now therefore, we were +undiminished in numbers, except by the desertion of those who had +attached themselves to the impostor-prophet, and remained behind in +Paris. About fifty French joined us. Our order of march was easily +arranged; the ill success which had attended our division, determined +Adrian to keep all in one body. I, with an hundred men, went forward +first as purveyor, taking the road of the Côte d’Or, through Auxerre, +Dijon, Dole, over the Jura to Geneva. I was to make arrangements, at +every ten miles, for the accommodation of such numbers as I found the +town or village would receive, leaving behind a messenger with a +written order, signifying how many were to be quartered there. The +remainder of our tribe was then divided into bands of fifty each, every +division containing eighteen men, and the remainder, consisting of +women and children. Each of these was headed by an officer, who carried +the roll of names, by which they were each day to be mustered. If the +numbers were divided at night, in the morning those in the van waited +for those in the rear. At each of the large towns before mentioned, we +were all to assemble; and a conclave of the principal officers would +hold council for the general weal. I went first, as I said; Adrian +last. His mother, with Clara and Evelyn under her protection, remained +also with him. Thus our order being determined, I departed. My plan was +to go at first no further than Fontainebleau, where in a few days I +should be joined by Adrian, before I took flight again further +eastward. + +My friend accompanied me a few miles from Versailles. He was sad; and, +in a tone of unaccustomed despondency, uttered a prayer for our speedy +arrival among the Alps, accompanied with an expression of vain regret +that we were not already there. “In that case,” I observed, “we can +quicken our march; why adhere to a plan whose dilatory proceeding you +already disapprove?” + +“Nay,” replied he, “it is too late now. A month ago, and we were +masters of ourselves; now,—” he turned his face from me; though +gathering twilight had already veiled its expression, he turned it yet +more away, as he added —“a man died of the plague last night!” + +He spoke in a smothered voice, then suddenly clasping his hands, he +exclaimed, “Swiftly, most swiftly advances the last hour for us all; as +the stars vanish before the sun, so will his near approach destroy us. +I have done my best; with grasping hands and impotent strength, I have +hung on the wheel of the chariot of plague; but she drags me along with +it, while, like Juggernaut, she proceeds crushing out the being of all +who strew the high road of life. Would that it were over—would that her +procession achieved, we had all entered the tomb together!” + +Tears streamed from his eyes. “Again and again,” he continued, “will +the tragedy be acted; again I must hear the groans of the dying, the +wailing of the survivors; again witness the pangs, which, consummating +all, envelope an eternity in their evanescent existence. Why am I +reserved for this? Why the tainted wether of the flock, am I not struck +to earth among the first? It is hard, very hard, for one of woman born +to endure all that I endure!” + +Hitherto, with an undaunted spirit, and an high feeling of duty and +worth, Adrian had fulfilled his self-imposed task. I had contemplated +him with reverence, and a fruitless desire of imitation. I now offered +a few words of encouragement and sympathy. He hid his face in his +hands, and while he strove to calm himself, he ejaculated, “For a few +months, yet for a few months more, let not, O God, my heart fail, or my +courage be bowed down; let not sights of intolerable misery madden this +half-crazed brain, or cause this frail heart to beat against its +prison-bound, so that it burst. I have believed it to be my destiny to +guide and rule the last of the race of man, till death extinguish my +government; and to this destiny I submit. + +“Pardon me, Verney, I pain you, but I will no longer complain. Now I am +myself again, or rather I am better than myself. You have known how +from my childhood aspiring thoughts and high desires have warred with +inherent disease and overstrained sensitiveness, till the latter became +victors. You know how I placed this wasted feeble hand on the abandoned +helm of human government. I have been visited at times by intervals of +fluctuation; yet, until now, I have felt as if a superior and +indefatigable spirit had taken up its abode within me or rather +incorporated itself with my weaker being. The holy visitant has for a +time slept, perhaps to show me how powerless I am without its +inspiration. Yet, stay for a while, O Power of goodness and strength; +disdain not yet this rent shrine of fleshly mortality, O immortal +Capability! While one fellow creature remains to whom aid can be +afforded, stay by and prop your shattered, falling engine!” + +His vehemence, and voice broken by irrepressible sighs, sunk to my +heart; his eyes gleamed in the gloom of night like two earthly stars; +and, his form dilating, his countenance beaming, truly it almost seemed +as if at his eloquent appeal a more than mortal spirit entered his +frame, exalting him above humanity. He turned quickly towards me, and +held out his hand. “Farewell, Verney,” he cried, “brother of my love, +farewell; no other weak expression must cross these lips, I am alive +again: to our tasks, to our combats with our unvanquishable foe, for to +the last I will struggle against her.” + +He grasped my hand, and bent a look on me, more fervent and animated +than any smile; then turning his horse’s head, he touched the animal +with the spur, and was out of sight in a moment. + +A man last night had died of the plague. The quiver was not emptied, +nor the bow unstrung. We stood as marks, while Parthian Pestilence +aimed and shot, insatiated by conquest, unobstructed by the heaps of +slain. A sickness of the soul, contagious even to my physical +mechanism, came over me. My knees knocked together, my teeth chattered, +the current of my blood, clotted by sudden cold, painfully forced its +way from my heavy heart. I did not fear for myself, but it was misery +to think that we could not even save this remnant. That those I loved +might in a few days be as clay-cold as Idris in her antique tomb; nor +could strength of body or energy of mind ward off the blow. A sense of +degradation came over me. Did God create man, merely in the end to +become dead earth in the midst of healthful vegetating nature? Was he +of no more account to his Maker, than a field of corn blighted in the +ear? Were our proud dreams thus to fade? Our name was written “a little +lower than the angels;” and, behold, we were no better than ephemera. +We had called ourselves the “paragon of animals,” and, lo! we were a +“quint-essence of dust.” We repined that the pyramids had outlasted the +embalmed body of their builder. Alas! the mere shepherd’s hut of straw +we passed on the road, contained in its structure the principle of +greater longevity than the whole race of man. How reconcile this sad +change to our past aspirations, to our apparent powers! + +Sudden an internal voice, articulate and clear, seemed to say:—Thus +from eternity, it was decreed: the steeds that bear Time onwards had +this hour and this fulfilment enchained to them, since the void brought +forth its burthen. Would you read backwards the unchangeable laws of +Necessity? + +Mother of the world! Servant of the Omnipotent! eternal, changeless +Necessity! who with busy fingers sittest ever weaving the indissoluble +chain of events!—I will not murmur at thy acts. If my human mind cannot +acknowledge that all that is, is right; yet since what is, must be, I +will sit amidst the ruins and smile. Truly we were not born to enjoy, +but to submit, and to hope. + +Will not the reader tire, if I should minutely describe our long-drawn +journey from Paris to Geneva? If, day by day, I should record, in the +form of a journal, the thronging miseries of our lot, could my hand +write, or language afford words to express, the variety of our woe; the +hustling and crowding of one deplorable event upon another? Patience, +oh reader! whoever thou art, wherever thou dwellest, whether of race +spiritual, or, sprung from some surviving pair, thy nature will be +human, thy habitation the earth; thou wilt here read of the acts of the +extinct race, and wilt ask wonderingly, if they, who suffered what thou +findest recorded, were of frail flesh and soft organization like +thyself. Most true, they were— weep therefore; for surely, solitary +being, thou wilt be of gentle disposition; shed compassionate tears; +but the while lend thy attention to the tale, and learn the deeds and +sufferings of thy predecessors. + +Yet the last events that marked our progress through France were so +full of strange horror and gloomy misery, that I dare not pause too +long in the narration. If I were to dissect each incident, every small +fragment of a second would contain an harrowing tale, whose minutest +word would curdle the blood in thy young veins. It is right that I +should erect for thy instruction this monument of the foregone race; +but not that I should drag thee through the wards of an hospital, nor +the secret chambers of the charnel-house. This tale, therefore, shall +be rapidly unfolded. Images of destruction, pictures of despair, the +procession of the last triumph of death, shall be drawn before thee, +swift as the rack driven by the north wind along the blotted splendour +of the sky. + +Weed-grown fields, desolate towns, the wild approach of riderless +horses had now become habitual to my eyes; nay, sights far worse, of +the unburied dead, and human forms which were strewed on the road side, +and on the steps of once frequented habitations, where, + + Through the flesh that wastes away +Beneath the parching sun, the whitening bones +Start forth, and moulder in the sable dust.[23] + + +Sights like these had become—ah, woe the while! so familiar, that we +had ceased to shudder, or spur our stung horses to sudden speed, as we +passed them. France in its best days, at least that part of France +through which we travelled, had been a cultivated desert, and the +absence of enclosures, of cottages, and even of peasantry, was +saddening to a traveller from sunny Italy, or busy England. Yet the +towns were frequent and lively, and the cordial politeness and ready +smile of the wooden-shoed peasant restored good humour to the +splenetic. Now, the old woman sat no more at the door with her +distaff—the lank beggar no longer asked charity in courtier-like +phrase; nor on holidays did the peasantry thread with slow grace the +mazes of the dance. Silence, melancholy bride of death, went in +procession with him from town to town through the spacious region. + +We arrived at Fontainebleau, and speedily prepared for the reception of +our friends. On mustering our numbers for the night, three were found +missing. When I enquired for them, the man to whom I spoke, uttered the +word “plague,” and fell at my feet in convulsions; he also was +infected. There were hard faces around me; for among my troop were +sailors who had crossed the line times unnumbered, soldiers who, in +Russia and far America, had suffered famine, cold and danger, and men +still sterner-featured, once nightly depredators in our over-grown +metropolis; men bred from their cradle to see the whole machine of +society at work for their destruction. I looked round, and saw upon the +faces of all horror and despair written in glaring characters. + +We passed four days at Fontainebleau. Several sickened and died, and in +the mean time neither Adrian nor any of our friends appeared. My own +troop was in commotion; to reach Switzerland, to plunge into rivers of +snow, and to dwell in caves of ice, became the mad desire of all. Yet +we had promised to wait for the Earl; and he came not. My people +demanded to be led forward— rebellion, if so we might call what was the +mere casting away of straw-formed shackles, appeared manifestly among +them. They would away on the word without a leader. The only chance of +safety, the only hope of preservation from every form of indescribable +suffering, was our keeping together. I told them this; while the most +determined among them answered with sullenness, that they could take +care of themselves, and replied to my entreaties with scoffs and +menaces. + +At length, on the fifth day, a messenger arrived from Adrian, bearing +letters, which directed us to proceed to Auxerre, and there await his +arrival, which would only be deferred for a few days. Such was the +tenor of his public letters. Those privately delivered to me, detailed +at length the difficulties of his situation, and left the arrangement +of my future plans to my own discretion. His account of the state of +affairs at Versailles was brief, but the oral communications of his +messenger filled up his omissions, and shewed me that perils of the +most frightful nature were gathering around him. At first the +re-awakening of the plague had been concealed; but the number of deaths +encreasing, the secret was divulged, and the destruction already +achieved, was exaggerated by the fears of the survivors. Some +emissaries of the enemy of mankind, the accursed Impostors, were among +them instilling their doctrine that safety and life could only be +ensured by submission to their chief; and they succeeded so well, that +soon, instead of desiring to proceed to Switzerland, the major part of +the multitude, weak-minded women, and dastardly men, desired to return +to Paris, and, by ranging themselves under the banners of the so called +prophet, and by a cowardly worship of the principle of evil, to +purchase respite, as they hoped, from impending death. The discord and +tumult induced by these conflicting fears and passions, detained +Adrian. It required all his ardour in pursuit of an object, and his +patience under difficulties, to calm and animate such a number of his +followers, as might counterbalance the panic of the rest, and lead them +back to the means from which alone safety could be derived. He had +hoped immediately to follow me; but, being defeated in this intention, +he sent his messenger urging me to secure my own troop at such a +distance from Versailles, as to prevent the contagion of rebellion from +reaching them; promising, at the same time, to join me the moment a +favourable occasion should occur, by means of which he could withdraw +the main body of the emigrants from the evil influence at present +exercised over them. + +I was thrown into a most painful state of uncertainty by these +communications. My first impulse was that we should all return to +Versailles, there to assist in extricating our chief from his perils. I +accordingly assembled my troop, and proposed to them this retrograde +movement, instead of the continuation of our journey to Auxerre. With +one voice they refused to comply. The notion circulated among them was, +that the ravages of the plague alone detained the Protector; they +opposed his order to my request; they came to a resolve to proceed +without me, should I refuse to accompany them. Argument and adjuration +were lost on these dastards. The continual diminution of their own +numbers, effected by pestilence, added a sting to their dislike of +delay; and my opposition only served to bring their resolution to a +crisis. That same evening they departed towards Auxerre. Oaths, as from +soldiers to their general, had been taken by them: these they broke. I +also had engaged myself not to desert them; it appeared to me inhuman +to ground any infraction of my word on theirs. The same spirit that +caused them to rebel against me, would impel them to desert each other; +and the most dreadful sufferings would be the consequence of their +journey in their present unordered and chiefless array. These feelings +for a time were paramount; and, in obedience to them, I accompanied the +rest towards Auxerre. We arrived the same night at +Villeneuve-la-Guiard, a town at the distance of four posts from +Fontainebleau. When my companions had retired to rest, and I was left +alone to revolve and ruminate upon the intelligence I received of +Adrian’s situation, another view of the subject presented itself to me. +What was I doing, and what was the object of my present movements? +Apparently I was to lead this troop of selfish and lawless men towards +Switzerland, leaving behind my family and my selected friend, which, +subject as they were hourly to the death that threatened to all, I +might never see again. Was it not my first duty to assist the +Protector, setting an example of attachment and duty? At a crisis, such +as the one I had reached, it is very difficult to balance nicely +opposing interests, and that towards which our inclinations lead us, +obstinately assumes the appearance of selfishness, even when we +meditate a sacrifice. We are easily led at such times to make a +compromise of the question; and this was my present resource. I +resolved that very night to ride to Versailles; if I found affairs less +desperate than I now deemed them, I would return without delay to my +troop; I had a vague idea that my arrival at that town, would occasion +some sensation more or less strong, of which we might profit, for the +purpose of leading forward the vacillating multitude—at least no time +was to be lost—I visited the stables, I saddled my favourite horse, and +vaulting on his back, without giving myself time for further reflection +or hesitation, quitted Villeneuve-la-Guiard on my return to Versailles. + +I was glad to escape from my rebellious troop, and to lose sight for a +time, of the strife of evil with good, where the former for ever +remained triumphant. I was stung almost to madness by my uncertainty +concerning the fate of Adrian, and grew reckless of any event, except +what might lose or preserve my unequalled friend. With an heavy heart, +that sought relief in the rapidity of my course, I rode through the +night to Versailles. I spurred my horse, who addressed his free limbs +to speed, and tossed his gallant head in pride. The constellations +reeled swiftly by, swiftly each tree and stone and landmark fled past +my onward career. I bared my head to the rushing wind, which bathed my +brow in delightful coolness. As I lost sight of Villeneuve-la-Guiard, I +forgot the sad drama of human misery; methought it was happiness enough +to live, sensitive the while of the beauty of the verdure-clad earth, +the star-bespangled sky, and the tameless wind that lent animation to +the whole. My horse grew tired—and I, forgetful of his fatigue, still +as he lagged, cheered him with my voice, and urged him with the spur. +He was a gallant animal, and I did not wish to exchange him for any +chance beast I might light on, leaving him never to be refound. All +night we went forward; in the morning he became sensible that we +approached Versailles, to reach which as his home, he mustered his +flagging strength. The distance we had come was not less than fifty +miles, yet he shot down the long Boulevards swift as an arrow; poor +fellow, as I dismounted at the gate of the castle, he sunk on his +knees, his eyes were covered with a film, he fell on his side, a few +gasps inflated his noble chest, and he died. I saw him expire with an +anguish, unaccountable even to myself, the spasm was as the wrenching +of some limb in agonizing torture, but it was brief as it was +intolerable. I forgot him, as I swiftly darted through the open portal, +and up the majestic stairs of this castle of victories—heard Adrian’s +voice—O fool! O woman nurtured, effeminate and contemptible being—I +heard his voice, and answered it with convulsive shrieks; I rushed into +the Hall of Hercules, where he stood surrounded by a crowd, whose eyes, +turned in wonder on me, reminded me that on the stage of the world, a +man must repress such girlish extacies. I would have given worlds to +have embraced him; I dared not—Half in exhaustion, half voluntarily, I +threw myself at my length on the ground— dare I disclose the truth to +the gentle offspring of solitude? I did so, that I might kiss the dear +and sacred earth he trod. + +I found everything in a state of tumult. An emissary of the leader of +the elect, had been so worked up by his chief, and by his own fanatical +creed, as to make an attempt on the life of the Protector and preserver +of lost mankind. His hand was arrested while in the act of poignarding +the Earl; this circumstance had caused the clamour I heard on my +arrival at the castle, and the confused assembly of persons that I +found assembled in the Salle d’Hercule. Although superstition and +demoniac fury had crept among the emigrants, yet several adhered with +fidelity to their noble chieftain; and many, whose faith and love had +been unhinged by fear, felt all their latent affection rekindled by +this detestable attempt. A phalanx of faithful breasts closed round +him; the wretch, who, although a prisoner and in bonds, vaunted his +design, and madly claimed the crown of martyrdom, would have been torn +to pieces, had not his intended victim interposed. Adrian, springing +forward, shielded him with his own person, and commanded with energy +the submission of his infuriate friends—at this moment I had entered. + +Discipline and peace were at length restored in the castle; and then +Adrian went from house to house, from troop to troop, to soothe the +disturbed minds of his followers, and recall them to their ancient +obedience. But the fear of immediate death was still rife amongst these +survivors of a world’s destruction; the horror occasioned by the +attempted assassination, past away; each eye turned towards Paris. Men +love a prop so well, that they will lean on a pointed poisoned spear; +and such was he, the impostor, who, with fear of hell for his scourge, +most ravenous wolf, played the driver to a credulous flock. + +It was a moment of suspense, that shook even the resolution of the +unyielding friend of man. Adrian for one moment was about to give in, +to cease the struggle, and quit, with a few adherents, the deluded +crowd, leaving them a miserable prey to their passions, and to the +worse tyrant who excited them. But again, after a brief fluctuation of +purpose, he resumed his courage and resolves, sustained by the +singleness of his purpose, and the untried spirit of benevolence which +animated him. At this moment, as an omen of excellent import, his +wretched enemy pulled destruction on his head, destroying with his own +hands the dominion he had erected. + +His grand hold upon the minds of men, took its rise from the doctrine +inculcated by him, that those who believed in, and followed him, were +the remnant to be saved, while all the rest of mankind were marked out +for death. Now, at the time of the Flood, the omnipotent repented him +that he had created man, and as then with water, now with the arrows of +pestilence, was about to annihilate all, except those who obeyed his +decrees, promulgated by the _ipse dixit_ prophet. It is impossible to +say on what foundations this man built his hopes of being able to carry +on such an imposture. It is likely that he was fully aware of the lie +which murderous nature might give to his assertions, and believed it to +be the cast of a die, whether he should in future ages be reverenced as +an inspired delegate from heaven, or be recognized as an impostor by +the present dying generation. At any rate he resolved to keep up the +drama to the last act. When, on the first approach of summer, the fatal +disease again made its ravages among the followers of Adrian, the +impostor exultingly proclaimed the exemption of his own congregation +from the universal calamity. He was believed; his followers, hitherto +shut up in Paris, now came to Versailles. Mingling with the coward band +there assembled, they reviled their admirable leader, and asserted +their own superiority and exemption. At length the plague, slow-footed, +but sure in her noiseless advance, destroyed the illusion, invading the +congregation of the elect, and showering promiscuous death among them. +Their leader endeavoured to conceal this event; he had a few followers, +who, admitted into the arcana of his wickedness, could help him in the +execution of his nefarious designs. Those who sickened were immediately +and quietly withdrawn, the cord and a midnight-grave disposed of them +for ever; while some plausible excuse was given for their absence. At +last a female, whose maternal vigilance subdued even the effects of the +narcotics administered to her, became a witness of their murderous +designs on her only child. Mad with horror, she would have burst among +her deluded fellow-victims, and, wildly shrieking, have awaked the dull +ear of night with the history of the fiend-like crime; when the +Impostor, in his last act of rage and desperation, plunged a poignard +in her bosom. Thus wounded to death, her garments dripping with her own +life-blood, bearing her strangled infant in her arms, beautiful and +young as she was, Juliet, (for it was she) denounced to the host of +deceived believers, the wickedness of their leader. He saw the aghast +looks of her auditors, changing from horror to fury—the names of those +already sacrificed were echoed by their relatives, now assured of their +loss. The wretch with that energy of purpose, which had borne him thus +far in his guilty career, saw his danger, and resolved to evade the +worst forms of it—he rushed on one of the foremost, seized a pistol +from his girdle, and his loud laugh of derision mingled with the report +of the weapon with which he destroyed himself. + +They left his miserable remains even where they lay; they placed the +corpse of poor Juliet and her babe upon a bier, and all, with hearts +subdued to saddest regret, in long procession walked towards +Versailles. They met troops of those who had quitted the kindly +protection of Adrian, and were journeying to join the fanatics. The +tale of horror was recounted—all turned back; and thus at last, +accompanied by the undiminished numbers of surviving humanity, and +preceded by the mournful emblem of their recovered reason, they +appeared before Adrian, and again and for ever vowed obedience to his +commands, and fidelity to his cause. + + [22] Shakespeare—Julius Cæsar. + + + [23] Elton’s Translation of Hesiod’s “Shield of Hercules.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +These events occupied so much time, that June had numbered more than +half its days, before we again commenced our long-protracted journey. +The day after my return to Versailles, six men, from among those I had +left at Villeneuve-la-Guiard, arrived, with intelligence, that the rest +of the troop had already proceeded towards Switzerland. We went forward +in the same track. + +It is strange, after an interval of time, to look back on a period, +which, though short in itself, appeared, when in actual progress, to be +drawn out interminably. By the end of July we entered Dijon; by the end +of July those hours, days, and weeks had mingled with the ocean of +forgotten time, which in their passage teemed with fatal events and +agonizing sorrow. By the end of July, little more than a month had gone +by, if man’s life were measured by the rising and setting of the sun: +but, alas! in that interval ardent youth had become grey-haired; +furrows deep and uneraseable were trenched in the blooming cheek of the +young mother; the elastic limbs of early manhood, paralyzed as by the +burthen of years, assumed the decrepitude of age. Nights passed, during +whose fatal darkness the sun grew old before it rose; and burning days, +to cool whose baleful heat the balmy eve, lingering far in eastern +climes, came lagging and ineffectual; days, in which the dial, radiant +in its noon-day station, moved not its shadow the space of a little +hour, until a whole life of sorrow had brought the sufferer to an +untimely grave. + +We departed from Versailles fifteen hundred souls. We set out on the +eighteenth of June. We made a long procession, in which was contained +every dear relationship, or tie of love, that existed in human society. +Fathers and husbands, with guardian care, gathered their dear relatives +around them; wives and mothers looked for support to the manly form +beside them, and then with tender anxiety bent their eyes on the infant +troop around. They were sad, but not hopeless. Each thought that +someone would be saved; each, with that pertinacious optimism, which to +the last characterized our human nature, trusted that their beloved +family would be the one preserved. + +We passed through France, and found it empty of inhabitants. Some one +or two natives survived in the larger towns, which they roamed through +like ghosts; we received therefore small encrease to our numbers, and +such decrease through death, that at last it became easier to count the +scanty list of survivors. As we never deserted any of the sick, until +their death permitted us to commit their remains to the shelter of a +grave, our journey was long, while every day a frightful gap was made +in our troop—they died by tens, by fifties, by hundreds. No mercy was +shewn by death; we ceased to expect it, and every day welcomed the sun +with the feeling that we might never see it rise again. + +The nervous terrors and fearful visions which had scared us during the +spring, continued to visit our coward troop during this sad journey. +Every evening brought its fresh creation of spectres; a ghost was +depicted by every blighted tree; and appalling shapes were manufactured +from each shaggy bush. By degrees these common marvels palled on us, +and then other wonders were called into being. Once it was confidently +asserted, that the sun rose an hour later than its seasonable time; +again it was discovered that he grew paler and paler; that shadows took +an uncommon appearance. It was impossible to have imagined, during the +usual calm routine of life men had before experienced, the terrible +effects produced by these extravagant delusions: in truth, of such +little worth are our senses, when unsupported by concurring testimony, +that it was with the utmost difficulty I kept myself free from the +belief in supernatural events, to which the major part of our people +readily gave credit. Being one sane amidst a crowd of the mad, I hardly +dared assert to my own mind, that the vast luminary had undergone no +change—that the shadows of night were unthickened by innumerable shapes +of awe and terror; or that the wind, as it sung in the trees, or +whistled round an empty building, was not pregnant with sounds of +wailing and despair. Sometimes realities took ghostly shapes; and it +was impossible for one’s blood not to curdle at the perception of an +evident mixture of what we knew to be true, with the visionary +semblance of all that we feared. + +Once, at the dusk of the evening, we saw a figure all in white, +apparently of more than human stature, flourishing about the road, now +throwing up its arms, now leaping to an astonishing height in the air, +then turning round several times successively, then raising itself to +its full height and gesticulating violently. Our troop, on the alert to +discover and believe in the supernatural, made a halt at some distance +from this shape; and, as it became darker, there was something +appalling even to the incredulous, in the lonely spectre, whose +gambols, if they hardly accorded with spiritual dignity, were beyond +human powers. Now it leapt right up in the air, now sheer over a high +hedge, and was again the moment after in the road before us. By the +time I came up, the fright experienced by the spectators of this +ghostly exhibition, began to manifest itself in the flight of some, and +the close huddling together of the rest. Our goblin now perceived us; +he approached, and, as we drew reverentially back, made a low bow. The +sight was irresistibly ludicrous even to our hapless band, and his +politeness was hailed by a shout of laughter;—then, again springing up, +as a last effort, it sunk to the ground, and became almost invisible +through the dusky night. This circumstance again spread silence and +fear through the troop; the more courageous at length advanced, and, +raising the dying wretch, discovered the tragic explanation of this +wild scene. It was an opera-dancer, and had been one of the troop which +deserted from Villeneuve-la-Guiard: falling sick, he had been deserted +by his companions; in an access of delirium he had fancied himself on +the stage, and, poor fellow, his dying sense eagerly accepted the last +human applause that could ever be bestowed on his grace and agility. + +At another time we were haunted for several days by an apparition, to +which our people gave the appellation of the Black Spectre. We never +saw it except at evening, when his coal black steed, his mourning +dress, and plume of black feathers, had a majestic and awe-striking +appearance; his face, one said, who had seen it for a moment, was ashy +pale; he had lingered far behind the rest of his troop, and suddenly at +a turn in the road, saw the Black Spectre coming towards him; he hid +himself in fear, and the horse and his rider slowly past, while the +moonbeams fell on the face of the latter, displaying its unearthly hue. +Sometimes at dead of night, as we watched the sick, we heard one +galloping through the town; it was the Black Spectre come in token of +inevitable death. He grew giant tall to vulgar eyes; an icy atmosphere, +they said, surrounded him; when he was heard, all animals shuddered, +and the dying knew that their last hour was come. It was Death himself, +they declared, come visibly to seize on subject earth, and quell at +once our decreasing numbers, sole rebels to his law. One day at noon, +we saw a dark mass on the road before us, and, coming up, beheld the +Black Spectre fallen from his horse, lying in the agonies of disease +upon the ground. He did not survive many hours; and his last words +disclosed the secret of his mysterious conduct. He was a French noble +of distinction, who, from the effects of plague, had been left alone in +his district; during many months, he had wandered from town to town, +from province to province, seeking some survivor for a companion, and +abhorring the loneliness to which he was condemned. When he discovered +our troop, fear of contagion conquered his love of society. He dared +not join us, yet he could not resolve to lose sight of us, sole human +beings who besides himself existed in wide and fertile France; so he +accompanied us in the spectral guise I have described, till pestilence +gathered him to a larger congregation, even that of Dead Mankind. + +It had been well, if such vain terrors could have distracted our +thoughts from more tangible evils. But these were too dreadful and too +many not to force themselves into every thought, every moment, of our +lives. We were obliged to halt at different periods for days together, +till another and yet another was consigned as a clod to the vast clod +which had been once our living mother. Thus we continued travelling +during the hottest season; and it was not till the first of August, +that we, the emigrants,—reader, there were just eighty of us in +number,—entered the gates of Dijon. + +We had expected this moment with eagerness, for now we had accomplished +the worst part of our drear journey, and Switzerland was near at hand. +Yet how could we congratulate ourselves on any event thus imperfectly +fulfilled? Were these miserable beings, who, worn and wretched, passed +in sorrowful procession, the sole remnants of the race of man, which, +like a flood, had once spread over and possessed the whole earth? It +had come down clear and unimpeded from its primal mountain source in +Ararat, and grew from a puny streamlet to a vast perennial river, +generation after generation flowing on ceaselessly. The same, but +diversified, it grew, and swept onwards towards the absorbing ocean, +whose dim shores we now reached. It had been the mere plaything of +nature, when first it crept out of uncreative void into light; but +thought brought forth power and knowledge; and, clad with these, the +race of man assumed dignity and authority. It was then no longer the +mere gardener of earth, or the shepherd of her flocks; “it carried with +it an imposing and majestic aspect; it had a pedigree and illustrious +ancestors; it had its gallery of portraits, its monumental +inscriptions, its records and titles.”[24] + +This was all over, now that the ocean of death had sucked in the +slackening tide, and its source was dried up. We first had bidden adieu +to the state of things which having existed many thousand years, seemed +eternal; such a state of government, obedience, traffic, and domestic +intercourse, as had moulded our hearts and capacities, as far back as +memory could reach. Then to patriotic zeal, to the arts, to reputation, +to enduring fame, to the name of country, we had bidden farewell. We +saw depart all hope of retrieving our ancient state—all expectation, +except the feeble one of saving our individual lives from the wreck of +the past. To preserve these we had quitted England—England, no more; +for without her children, what name could that barren island claim? +With tenacious grasp we clung to such rule and order as could best save +us; trusting that, if a little colony could be preserved, that would +suffice at some remoter period to restore the lost community of +mankind. + +But the game is up! We must all die; nor leave survivor nor heir to the +wide inheritance of earth. We must all die! The species of man must +perish; his frame of exquisite workmanship; the wondrous mechanism of +his senses; the noble proportion of his godlike limbs; his mind, the +throned king of these; must perish. Will the earth still keep her place +among the planets; will she still journey with unmarked regularity +round the sun; will the seasons change, the trees adorn themselves with +leaves, and flowers shed their fragrance, in solitude? Will the +mountains remain unmoved, and streams still keep a downward course +towards the vast abyss; will the tides rise and fall, and the winds fan +universal nature; will beasts pasture, birds fly, and fishes swim, when +man, the lord, possessor, perceiver, and recorder of all these things, +has passed away, as though he had never been? O, what mockery is this! +Surely death is not death, and humanity is not extinct; but merely +passed into other shapes, unsubjected to our perceptions. Death is a +vast portal, an high road to life: let us hasten to pass; let us exist +no more in this living death, but die that we may live! + +We had longed with inexpressible earnestness to reach Dijon, since we +had fixed on it, as a kind of station in our progress. But now we +entered it with a torpor more painful than acute suffering. We had come +slowly but irrevocably to the opinion, that our utmost efforts would +not preserve one human being alive. We took our hands therefore away +from the long grasped rudder; and the frail vessel on which we floated, +seemed, the government over her suspended, to rush, prow foremost, into +the dark abyss of the billows. A gush of grief, a wanton profusion of +tears, and vain laments, and overflowing tenderness, and passionate but +fruitless clinging to the priceless few that remained, was followed by +languor and recklessness. + +During this disastrous journey we lost all those, not of our own +family, to whom we had particularly attached ourselves among the +survivors. It were not well to fill these pages with a mere catalogue +of losses; yet I cannot refrain from this last mention of those +principally dear to us. The little girl whom Adrian had rescued from +utter desertion, during our ride through London on the twentieth of +November, died at Auxerre. The poor child had attached herself greatly +to us; and the suddenness of her death added to our sorrow. In the +morning we had seen her apparently in health—in the evening, Lucy, +before we retired to rest, visited our quarters to say that she was +dead. Poor Lucy herself only survived, till we arrived at Dijon. She +had devoted herself throughout to the nursing the sick, and attending +the friendless. Her excessive exertions brought on a slow fever, which +ended in the dread disease whose approach soon released her from her +sufferings. She had throughout been endeared to us by her good +qualities, by her ready and cheerful execution of every duty, and mild +acquiescence in every turn of adversity. When we consigned her to the +tomb, we seemed at the same time to bid a final adieu to those +peculiarly feminine virtues conspicuous in her; uneducated and +unpretending as she was, she was distinguished for patience, +forbearance, and sweetness. These, with all their train of qualities +peculiarly English, would never again be revived for us. This type of +all that was most worthy of admiration in her class among my +countrywomen, was placed under the sod of desert France; and it was as +a second separation from our country to have lost sight of her for +ever. + +The Countess of Windsor died during our abode at Dijon. One morning I +was informed that she wished to see me. Her message made me remember, +that several days had elapsed since I had last seen her. Such a +circumstance had often occurred during our journey, when I remained +behind to watch to their close the last moments of some one of our +hapless comrades, and the rest of the troop past on before me. But +there was something in the manner of her messenger, that made me +suspect that all was not right. A caprice of the imagination caused me +to conjecture that some ill had occurred to Clara or Evelyn, rather +than to this aged lady. Our fears, for ever on the stretch, demanded a +nourishment of horror; and it seemed too natural an occurrence, too +like past times, for the old to die before the young. I found the +venerable mother of my Idris lying on a couch, her tall emaciated +figure stretched out; her face fallen away, from which the nose stood +out in sharp profile, and her large dark eyes, hollow and deep, gleamed +with such light as may edge a thunder cloud at sun-set. All was +shrivelled and dried up, except these lights; her voice too was +fearfully changed, as she spoke to me at intervals. “I am afraid,” said +she, “that it is selfish in me to have asked you to visit the old woman +again, before she dies: yet perhaps it would have been a greater shock +to hear suddenly that I was dead, than to see me first thus.” + +I clasped her shrivelled hand: “Are you indeed so ill?” I asked. + +“Do you not perceive death in my face,” replied she, “it is strange; I +ought to have expected this, and yet I confess it has taken me unaware. +I never clung to life, or enjoyed it, till these last months, while +among those I senselessly deserted: and it is hard to be snatched +immediately away. I am glad, however, that I am not a victim of the +plague; probably I should have died at this hour, though the world had +continued as it was in my youth.” + +She spoke with difficulty, and I perceived that she regretted the +necessity of death, even more than she cared to confess. Yet she had +not to complain of an undue shortening of existence; her faded person +shewed that life had naturally spent itself. We had been alone at +first; now Clara entered; the Countess turned to her with a smile, and +took the hand of this lovely child; her roseate palm and snowy fingers, +contrasted with relaxed fibres and yellow hue of those of her aged +friend; she bent to kiss her, touching her withered mouth with the +warm, full lips of youth. “Verney,” said the Countess, “I need not +recommend this dear girl to you, for your own sake you will preserve +her. Were the world as it was, I should have a thousand sage +precautions to impress, that one so sensitive, good, and beauteous, +might escape the dangers that used to lurk for the destruction of the +fair and excellent. This is all nothing now. + +“I commit you, my kind nurse, to your uncle’s care; to yours I entrust +the dearest relic of my better self. Be to Adrian, sweet one, what you +have been to me—enliven his sadness with your sprightly sallies; sooth +his anguish by your sober and inspired converse, when he is dying; +nurse him as you have done me.” + +Clara burst into tears; “Kind girl,” said the Countess, “do not weep +for me. Many dear friends are left to you.” + +“And yet,” cried Clara, “you talk of their dying also. This is indeed +cruel —how could I live, if they were gone? If it were possible for my +beloved protector to die before me, I could not nurse him; I could only +die too.” + +The venerable lady survived this scene only twenty-four hours. She was +the last tie binding us to the ancient state of things. It was +impossible to look on her, and not call to mind in their wonted guise, +events and persons, as alien to our present situation as the disputes +of Themistocles and Aristides, or the wars of the two roses in our +native land. The crown of England had pressed her brow; the memory of +my father and his misfortunes, the vain struggles of the late king, the +images of Raymond, Evadne, and Perdita, who had lived in the world’s +prime, were brought vividly before us. We consigned her to the +oblivious tomb with reluctance; and when I turned from her grave, Janus +veiled his retrospective face; that which gazed on future generations +had long lost its faculty. + +After remaining a week at Dijon, until thirty of our number deserted +the vacant ranks of life, we continued our way towards Geneva. At noon +on the second day we arrived at the foot of Jura. We halted here during +the heat of the day. Here fifty human beings—fifty, the only human +beings that survived of the food-teeming earth, assembled to read in +the looks of each other ghastly plague, or wasting sorrow, desperation, +or worse, carelessness of future or present evil. Here we assembled at +the foot of this mighty wall of mountain, under a spreading walnut +tree; a brawling stream refreshed the green sward by its sprinkling; +and the busy grasshopper chirped among the thyme. We clustered together +a group of wretched sufferers. A mother cradled in her enfeebled arms +the child, last of many, whose glazed eye was about to close for ever. +Here beauty, late glowing in youthful lustre and consciousness, now wan +and neglected, knelt fanning with uncertain motion the beloved, who lay +striving to paint his features, distorted by illness, with a thankful +smile. There an hard-featured, weather-worn veteran, having prepared +his meal, sat, his head dropped on his breast, the useless knife +falling from his grasp, his limbs utterly relaxed, as thought of wife +and child, and dearest relative, all lost, passed across his +recollection. There sat a man who for forty years had basked in +fortune’s tranquil sunshine; he held the hand of his last hope, his +beloved daughter, who had just attained womanhood; and he gazed on her +with anxious eyes, while she tried to rally her fainting spirit to +comfort him. Here a servant, faithful to the last, though dying, waited +on one, who, though still erect with health, gazed with gasping fear on +the variety of woe around. + +Adrian stood leaning against a tree; he held a book in his hand, but +his eye wandered from the pages, and sought mine; they mingled a +sympathetic glance; his looks confessed that his thoughts had quitted +the inanimate print, for pages more pregnant with meaning, more +absorbing, spread out before him. By the margin of the stream, apart +from all, in a tranquil nook, where the purling brook kissed the green +sward gently, Clara and Evelyn were at play, sometimes beating the +water with large boughs, sometimes watching the summer-flies that +sported upon it. Evelyn now chased a butterfly—now gathered a flower +for his cousin; and his laughing cherub-face and clear brow told of the +light heart that beat in his bosom. Clara, though she endeavoured to +give herself up to his amusement, often forgot him, as she turned to +observe Adrian and me. She was now fourteen, and retained her childish +appearance, though in height a woman; she acted the part of the +tenderest mother to my little orphan boy; to see her playing with him, +or attending silently and submissively on our wants, you thought only +of her admirable docility and patience; but, in her soft eyes, and the +veined curtains that veiled them, in the clearness of her marmoreal +brow, and the tender expression of her lips, there was an intelligence +and beauty that at once excited admiration and love. + +When the sun had sunk towards the precipitate west, and the evening +shadows grew long, we prepared to ascend the mountain. The attention +that we were obliged to pay to the sick, made our progress slow. The +winding road, though steep, presented a confined view of rocky fields +and hills, each hiding the other, till our farther ascent disclosed +them in succession. We were seldom shaded from the declining sun, whose +slant beams were instinct with exhausting heat. There are times when +minor difficulties grow gigantic —times, when as the Hebrew poet +expressively terms it, “the grasshopper is a burthen;” so was it with +our ill fated party this evening. Adrian, usually the first to rally +his spirits, and dash foremost into fatigue and hardship, with relaxed +limbs and declined head, the reins hanging loosely in his grasp, left +the choice of the path to the instinct of his horse, now and then +painfully rousing himself, when the steepness of the ascent required +that he should keep his seat with better care. Fear and horror +encompassed me. Did his languid air attest that he also was struck with +contagion? How long, when I look on this matchless specimen of +mortality, may I perceive that his thought answers mine? how long will +those limbs obey the kindly spirit within? how long will light and life +dwell in the eyes of this my sole remaining friend? Thus pacing slowly, +each hill surmounted, only presented another to be ascended; each +jutting corner only discovered another, sister to the last, endlessly. +Sometimes the pressure of sickness in one among us, caused the whole +cavalcade to halt; the call for water, the eagerly expressed wish to +repose; the cry of pain, and suppressed sob of the mourner—such were +the sorrowful attendants of our passage of the Jura. + +Adrian had gone first. I saw him, while I was detained by the loosening +of a girth, struggling with the upward path, seemingly more difficult +than any we had yet passed. He reached the top, and the dark outline of +his figure stood in relief against the sky. He seemed to behold +something unexpected and wonderful; for, pausing, his head stretched +out, his arms for a moment extended, he seemed to give an All Hail! to +some new vision. Urged by curiosity, I hurried to join him. After +battling for many tedious minutes with the precipice, the same scene +presented itself to me, which had wrapt him in extatic wonder. + +Nature, or nature’s favourite, this lovely earth, presented her most +unrivalled beauties in resplendent and sudden exhibition. Below, far, +far below, even as it were in the yawning abyss of the ponderous globe, +lay the placid and azure expanse of lake Leman; vine-covered hills +hedged it in, and behind dark mountains in cone-like shape, or +irregular cyclopean wall, served for further defence. But beyond, and +high above all, as if the spirits of the air had suddenly unveiled +their bright abodes, placed in scaleless altitude in the stainless sky, +heaven-kissing, companions of the unattainable ether, were the glorious +Alps, clothed in dazzling robes of light by the setting sun. And, as if +the world’s wonders were never to be exhausted, their vast immensities, +their jagged crags, and roseate painting, appeared again in the lake +below, dipping their proud heights beneath the unruffled waves—palaces +for the Naiads of the placid waters. Towns and villages lay scattered +at the foot of Jura, which, with dark ravine, and black promontories, +stretched its roots into the watery expanse beneath. Carried away by +wonder, I forgot the death of man, and the living and beloved friend +near me. When I turned, I saw tears streaming from his eyes; his thin +hands pressed one against the other, his animated countenance beaming +with admiration; “Why,” cried he, at last, “Why, oh heart, whisperest +thou of grief to me? Drink in the beauty of that scene, and possess +delight beyond what a fabled paradise could afford.” + +By degrees, our whole party surmounting the steep, joined us, not one +among them, but gave visible tokens of admiration, surpassing any +before experienced. One cried, “God reveals his heaven to us; we may +die blessed.” Another and another, with broken exclamations, and +extravagant phrases, endeavoured to express the intoxicating effect of +this wonder of nature. So we remained awhile, lightened of the pressing +burthen of fate, forgetful of death, into whose night we were about to +plunge; no longer reflecting that our eyes now and for ever were and +would be the only ones which might perceive the divine magnificence of +this terrestrial exhibition. An enthusiastic transport, akin to +happiness, burst, like a sudden ray from the sun, on our darkened life. +Precious attribute of woe-worn humanity! that can snatch extatic +emotion, even from under the very share and harrow, that ruthlessly +ploughs up and lays waste every hope. + +This evening was marked by another event. Passing through Ferney in our +way to Geneva, unaccustomed sounds of music arose from the rural church +which stood embosomed in trees, surrounded by smokeless, vacant +cottages. The peal of an organ with rich swell awoke the mute air, +lingering along, and mingling with the intense beauty that clothed the +rocks and woods, and waves around. Music—the language of the immortals, +disclosed to us as testimony of their existence—music, “silver key of +the fountain of tears,” child of love, soother of grief, inspirer of +heroism and radiant thoughts, O music, in this our desolation, we had +forgotten thee! Nor pipe at eve cheered us, nor harmony of voice, nor +linked thrill of string; thou camest upon us now, like the revealing of +other forms of being; and transported as we had been by the loveliness +of nature, fancying that we beheld the abode of spirits, now we might +well imagine that we heard their melodious communings. We paused in +such awe as would seize on a pale votarist, visiting some holy shrine +at midnight; if she beheld animated and smiling, the image which she +worshipped. We all stood mute; many knelt. In a few minutes however, we +were recalled to human wonder and sympathy by a familiar strain. The +air was Haydn’s “New-Created World,” and, old and drooping as humanity +had become, the world yet fresh as at creation’s day, might still be +worthily celebrated by such an hymn of praise. Adrian and I entered the +church; the nave was empty, though the smoke of incense rose from the +altar, bringing with it the recollection of vast congregations, in once +thronged cathedrals; we went into the loft. A blind old man sat at the +bellows; his whole soul was ear; and as he sat in the attitude of +attentive listening, a bright glow of pleasure was diffused over his +countenance; for, though his lack-lustre eye could not reflect the +beam, yet his parted lips, and every line of his face and venerable +brow spoke delight. A young woman sat at the keys, perhaps twenty years +of age. Her auburn hair hung on her neck, and her fair brow shone in +its own beauty; but her drooping eyes let fall fast-flowing tears, +while the constraint she exercised to suppress her sobs, and still her +trembling, flushed her else pale cheek; she was thin; languor, and +alas! sickness, bent her form. We stood looking at the pair, forgetting +what we heard in the absorbing sight; till, the last chord struck, the +peal died away in lessening reverberations. The mighty voice, inorganic +we might call it, for we could in no way associate it with mechanism of +pipe or key, stilled its sonorous tone, and the girl, turning to lend +her assistance to her aged companion, at length perceived us. + +It was her father; and she, since childhood, had been the guide of his +darkened steps. They were Germans from Saxony, and, emigrating thither +but a few years before, had formed new ties with the surrounding +villagers. About the time that the pestilence had broken out, a young +German student had joined them. Their simple history was easily +divined. He, a noble, loved the fair daughter of the poor musician, and +followed them in their flight from the persecutions of his friends; but +soon the mighty leveller came with unblunted scythe to mow, together +with the grass, the tall flowers of the field. The youth was an early +victim. She preserved herself for her father’s sake. His blindness +permitted her to continue a delusion, at first the child of +accident—and now solitary beings, sole survivors in the land, he +remained unacquainted with the change, nor was aware that when he +listened to his child’s music, the mute mountains, senseless lake, and +unconscious trees, were, himself excepted, her sole auditors. + +The very day that we arrived she had been attacked by symptomatic +illness. She was paralyzed with horror at the idea of leaving her aged, +sightless father alone on the empty earth; but she had not courage to +disclose the truth, and the very excess of her desperation animated her +to surpassing exertions. At the accustomed vesper hour, she led him to +the chapel; and, though trembling and weeping on his account, she +played, without fault in time, or error in note, the hymn written to +celebrate the creation of the adorned earth, soon to be her tomb. + +We came to her like visitors from heaven itself; her high-wrought +courage; her hardly sustained firmness, fled with the appearance of +relief. With a shriek she rushed towards us, embraced the knees of +Adrian, and uttering but the words, “O save my father!” with sobs and +hysterical cries, opened the long-shut floodgates of her woe. + +Poor girl!—she and her father now lie side by side, beneath the high +walnut-tree where her lover reposes, and which in her dying moments she +had pointed out to us. Her father, at length aware of his daughter’s +danger, unable to see the changes of her dear countenance, obstinately +held her hand, till it was chilled and stiffened by death. Nor did he +then move or speak, till, twelve hours after, kindly death took him to +his breakless repose. They rest beneath the sod, the tree their +monument;—the hallowed spot is distinct in my memory, paled in by +craggy Jura, and the far, immeasurable Alps; the spire of the church +they frequented still points from out the embosoming trees; and though +her hand be cold, still methinks the sounds of divine music which they +loved wander about, solacing their gentle ghosts. + + [24] Burke’s Reflections on the French Revolution. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +We had now reached Switzerland, so long the final mark and aim of our +exertions. We had looked, I know not wherefore, with hope and pleasing +expectation on her congregation of hills and snowy crags, and opened +our bosoms with renewed spirits to the icy Biz, which even at Midsummer +used to come from the northern glacier laden with cold. Yet how could +we nourish expectation of relief? Like our native England, and the vast +extent of fertile France, this mountain-embowered land was desolate of +its inhabitants. Nor bleak mountain-top, nor snow-nourished rivulet; +not the ice-laden Biz, nor thunder, the tamer of contagion, had +preserved them— why therefore should we claim exemption? + +Who was there indeed to save? What troop had we brought fit to stand at +bay, and combat with the conqueror? We were a failing remnant, tamed to +mere submission to the coming blow. A train half dead, through fear of +death—a hopeless, unresisting, almost reckless crew, which, in the +tossed bark of life, had given up all pilotage, and resigned themselves +to the destructive force of ungoverned winds. Like a few furrows of +unreaped corn, which, left standing on a wide field after the rest is +gathered to the garner, are swiftly borne down by the winter storm. +Like a few straggling swallows, which, remaining after their fellows +had, on the first unkind breath of passing autumn, migrated to genial +climes, were struck to earth by the first frost of November. Like a +stray sheep that wanders over the sleet-beaten hill-side, while the +flock is in the pen, and dies before morning-dawn. Like a cloud, like +one of many that were spread in impenetrable woof over the sky, which, +when the shepherd north has driven its companions “to drink Antipodean +noon,” fades and dissolves in the clear ether—Such were we! + +We left the fair margin of the beauteous lake of Geneva, and entered +the Alpine ravines; tracing to its source the brawling Arve, through +the rock-bound valley of Servox, beside the mighty waterfalls, and +under the shadow of the inaccessible mountains, we travelled on; while +the luxuriant walnut-tree gave place to the dark pine, whose musical +branches swung in the wind, and whose upright forms had braved a +thousand storms—till the verdant sod, the flowery dell, and shrubbery +hill were exchanged for the sky-piercing, untrodden, seedless rock, +“the bones of the world, waiting to be clothed with every thing +necessary to give life and beauty.”[25] Strange that we should seek +shelter here! Surely, if, in those countries where earth was wont, like +a tender mother, to nourish her children, we had found her a destroyer, +we need not seek it here, where stricken by keen penury she seems to +shudder through her stony veins. Nor were we mistaken in our +conjecture. We vainly sought the vast and ever moving glaciers of +Chamounix, rifts of pendant ice, seas of congelated waters, the +leafless groves of tempest-battered pines, dells, mere paths for the +loud avalanche, and hill-tops, the resort of thunder-storms. Pestilence +reigned paramount even here. By the time that day and night, like twin +sisters of equal growth, shared equally their dominion over the hours, +one by one, beneath the ice-caves, beside the waters springing from the +thawed snows of a thousand winters, another and yet another of the +remnant of the race of Man, closed their eyes for ever to the light. + +Yet we were not quite wrong in seeking a scene like this, whereon to +close the drama. Nature, true to the last, consoled us in the very +heart of misery. Sublime grandeur of outward objects soothed our +hapless hearts, and were in harmony with our desolation. Many sorrows +have befallen man during his chequered course; and many a woe-stricken +mourner has found himself sole survivor among many. Our misery took its +majestic shape and colouring from the vast ruin, that accompanied and +made one with it. Thus on lovely earth, many a dark ravine contains a +brawling stream, shadowed by romantic rocks, threaded by mossy +paths—but all, except this, wanted the mighty back-ground, the towering +Alps, whose snowy capes, or bared ridges, lifted us from our dull +mortal abode, to the palaces of Nature’s own. + +This solemn harmony of event and situation regulated our feelings, and +gave as it were fitting costume to our last act. Majestic gloom and +tragic pomp attended the decease of wretched humanity. The funeral +procession of monarchs of old, was transcended by our splendid shews. +Near the sources of the Arveiron we performed the rites for, four only +excepted, the last of the species. Adrian and I, leaving Clara and +Evelyn wrapt in peaceful unobserving slumber, carried the body to this +desolate spot, and placed it in those caves of ice beneath the glacier, +which rive and split with the slightest sound, and bring destruction on +those within the clefts—no bird or beast of prey could here profane the +frozen form. So, with hushed steps and in silence, we placed the dead +on a bier of ice, and then, departing, stood on the rocky platform +beside the river springs. All hushed as we had been, the very striking +of the air with our persons had sufficed to disturb the repose of this +thawless region; and we had hardly left the cavern, before vast blocks +of ice, detaching themselves from the roof, fell, and covered the human +image we had deposited within. We had chosen a fair moonlight night, +but our journey thither had been long, and the crescent sank behind the +western heights by the time we had accomplished our purpose. The snowy +mountains and blue glaciers shone in their own light. The rugged and +abrupt ravine, which formed one side of Mont Anvert, was opposite to +us, the glacier at our side; at our feet Arveiron, white and foaming, +dashed over the pointed rocks that jutted into it, and, with whirring +spray and ceaseless roar, disturbed the stilly night. Yellow lightnings +played around the vast dome of Mont Blanc, silent as the snow-clad rock +they illuminated; all was bare, wild, and sublime, while the singing of +the pines in melodious murmurings added a gentle interest to the rough +magnificence. Now the riving and fall of icy rocks clave the air; now +the thunder of the avalanche burst on our ears. In countries whose +features are of less magnitude, nature betrays her living powers in the +foliage of the trees, in the growth of herbage, in the soft purling of +meandering streams; here, endowed with giant attributes, the torrent, +the thunder-storm, and the flow of massive waters, display her +activity. Such the church-yard, such the requiem, such the eternal +congregation, that waited on our companion’s funeral! + +Nor was it the human form alone which we had placed in this eternal +sepulchre, whose obsequies we now celebrated. With this last victim +Plague vanished from the earth. Death had never wanted weapons +wherewith to destroy life, and we, few and weak as we had become, were +still exposed to every other shaft with which his full quiver teemed. +But pestilence was absent from among them. For seven years it had had +full sway upon earth; she had trod every nook of our spacious globe; +she had mingled with the atmosphere, which as a cloak enwraps all our +fellow-creatures—the inhabitants of native Europe—the luxurious +Asiatic—the swarthy African and free American had been vanquished and +destroyed by her. Her barbarous tyranny came to its close here in the +rocky vale of Chamounix. + +Still recurring scenes of misery and pain, the fruits of this +distemper, made no more a part of our lives—the word plague no longer +rung in our ears—the aspect of plague incarnate in the human +countenance no longer appeared before our eyes. From this moment I saw +plague no more. She abdicated her throne, and despoiled herself of her +imperial sceptre among the ice rocks that surrounded us. She left +solitude and silence co-heirs of her kingdom. + +My present feelings are so mingled with the past, that I cannot say +whether the knowledge of this change visited us, as we stood on this +sterile spot. It seems to me that it did; that a cloud seemed to pass +from over us, that a weight was taken from the air; that henceforth we +breathed more freely, and raised our heads with some portion of former +liberty. Yet we did not hope. We were impressed by the sentiment, that +our race was run, but that plague would not be our destroyer. The +coming time was as a mighty river, down which a charmed boat is driven, +whose mortal steersman knows, that the obvious peril is not the one he +needs fear, yet that danger is nigh; and who floats awe-struck under +beetling precipices, through the dark and turbid waters—seeing in the +distance yet stranger and ruder shapes, towards which he is +irresistibly impelled. What would become of us? O for some Delphic +oracle, or Pythian maid, to utter the secrets of futurity! O for some +Œdipus to solve the riddle of the cruel Sphynx! Such Œdipus was I to +be—not divining a word’s juggle, but whose agonizing pangs, and +sorrow-tainted life were to be the engines, wherewith to lay bare the +secrets of destiny, and reveal the meaning of the enigma, whose +explanation closed the history of the human race. + +Dim fancies, akin to these, haunted our minds, and instilled feelings +not unallied to pleasure, as we stood beside this silent tomb of +nature, reared by these lifeless mountains, above her living veins, +choking her vital principle. “Thus are we left,” said Adrian, “two +melancholy blasted trees, where once a forest waved. We are left to +mourn, and pine, and die. Yet even now we have our duties, which we +must string ourselves to fulfil: the duty of bestowing pleasure where +we can, and by force of love, irradiating with rainbow hues the tempest +of grief. Nor will I repine if in this extremity we preserve what we +now possess. Something tells me, Verney, that we need no longer dread +our cruel enemy, and I cling with delight to the oracular voice. Though +strange, it will be sweet to mark the growth of your little boy, and +the development of Clara’s young heart. In the midst of a desert world, +we are everything to them; and, if we live, it must be our task to make +this new mode of life happy to them. At present this is easy, for their +childish ideas do not wander into futurity, and the stinging craving +for sympathy, and all of love of which our nature is susceptible, is +not yet awake within them: we cannot guess what will happen then, when +nature asserts her indefeasible and sacred powers; but, long before +that time, we may all be cold, as he who lies in yonder tomb of ice. We +need only provide for the present, and endeavour to fill with pleasant +images the inexperienced fancy of your lovely niece. The scenes which +now surround us, vast and sublime as they are, are not such as can best +contribute to this work. Nature is here like our fortunes, grand, but +too destructive, bare, and rude, to be able to afford delight to her +young imagination. Let us descend to the sunny plains of Italy. Winter +will soon be here, to clothe this wilderness in double desolation; but +we will cross the bleak hill-tops, and lead her to scenes of fertility +and beauty, where her path will be adorned with flowers, and the cheery +atmosphere inspire pleasure and hope.” + +In pursuance of this plan we quitted Chamounix on the following day. We +had no cause to hasten our steps; no event was transacted beyond our +actual sphere to enchain our resolves, so we yielded to every idle +whim, and deemed our time well spent, when we could behold the passage +of the hours without dismay. We loitered along the lovely Vale of +Servox; passed long hours on the bridge, which, crossing the ravine of +Arve, commands a prospect of its pine-clothed depths, and the snowy +mountains that wall it in. We rambled through romantic Switzerland; +till, fear of coming winter leading us forward, the first days of +October found us in the valley of La Maurienne, which leads to Cenis. I +cannot explain the reluctance we felt at leaving this land of +mountains; perhaps it was, that we regarded the Alps as boundaries +between our former and our future state of existence, and so clung +fondly to what of old we had loved. Perhaps, because we had now so few +impulses urging to a choice between two modes of action, we were +pleased to preserve the existence of one, and preferred the prospect of +what we were to do, to the recollection of what had been done. We felt +that for this year danger was past; and we believed that, for some +months, we were secured to each other. There was a thrilling, agonizing +delight in the thought—it filled the eyes with misty tears, it tore the +heart with tumultuous heavings; frailer than the “snow fall in the +river,” were we each and all—but we strove to give life and +individuality to the meteoric course of our several existences, and to +feel that no moment escaped us unenjoyed. Thus tottering on the dizzy +brink, we were happy. Yes! as we sat beneath the toppling rocks, beside +the waterfalls, near + +—Forests, ancient as the hills, +And folding sunny spots of greenery, + + +where the chamois grazed, and the timid squirrel laid up its +hoard—descanting on the charms of nature, drinking in the while her +unalienable beauties—we were, in an empty world, happy. + +Yet, O days of joy—days, when eye spoke to eye, and voices, sweeter +than the music of the swinging branches of the pines, or rivulet’s +gentle murmur, answered mine—yet, O days replete with beatitude, days +of loved society—days unutterably dear to me forlorn—pass, O pass +before me, making me in your memory forget what I am. Behold, how my +streaming eyes blot this senseless paper—behold, how my features are +convulsed by agonizing throes, at your mere recollection, now that, +alone, my tears flow, my lips quiver, my cries fill the air, unseen, +unmarked, unheard! Yet, O yet, days of delight! let me dwell on your +long-drawn hours! + +As the cold increased upon us, we passed the Alps, and descended into +Italy. At the uprising of morn, we sat at our repast, and cheated our +regrets by gay sallies or learned disquisitions. The live-long day we +sauntered on, still keeping in view the end of our journey, but +careless of the hour of its completion. As the evening star shone out, +and the orange sunset, far in the west, marked the position of the dear +land we had for ever left, talk, thought enchaining, made the hours +fly—O that we had lived thus for ever and for ever! Of what consequence +was it to our four hearts, that they alone were the fountains of life +in the wide world? As far as mere individual sentiment was concerned, +we had rather be left thus united together, than if, each alone in a +populous desert of unknown men, we had wandered truly companionless +till life’s last term. In this manner, we endeavoured to console each +other; in this manner, true philosophy taught us to reason. + +It was the delight of Adrian and myself to wait on Clara, naming her +the little queen of the world, ourselves her humblest servitors. When +we arrived at a town, our first care was to select for her its most +choice abode; to make sure that no harrowing relic remained of its +former inhabitants; to seek food for her, and minister to her wants +with assiduous tenderness. Clara entered into our scheme with childish +gaiety. Her chief business was to attend on Evelyn; but it was her +sport to array herself in splendid robes, adorn herself with sunny +gems, and ape a princely state. Her religion, deep and pure, did not +teach her to refuse to blunt thus the keen sting of regret; her +youthful vivacity made her enter, heart and soul, into these strange +masquerades. + +We had resolved to pass the ensuing winter at Milan, which, as being a +large and luxurious city, would afford us choice of homes. We had +descended the Alps, and left far behind their vast forests and mighty +crags. We entered smiling Italy. Mingled grass and corn grew in her +plains, the unpruned vines threw their luxuriant branches around the +elms. The grapes, overripe, had fallen on the ground, or hung purple, +or burnished green, among the red and yellow leaves. The ears of +standing corn winnowed to emptiness by the spendthrift winds; the +fallen foliage of the trees, the weed-grown brooks, the dusky olive, +now spotted with its blackened fruit; the chestnuts, to which the +squirrel only was harvest-man; all plenty, and yet, alas! all poverty, +painted in wondrous hues and fantastic groupings this land of beauty. +In the towns, in the voiceless towns, we visited the churches, adorned +by pictures, master-pieces of art, or galleries of statues—while in +this genial clime the animals, in new found liberty, rambled through +the gorgeous palaces, and hardly feared our forgotten aspect. The +dove-coloured oxen turned their full eyes on us, and paced slowly by; a +startling throng of silly sheep, with pattering feet, would start up in +some chamber, formerly dedicated to the repose of beauty, and rush, +huddling past us, down the marble staircase into the street, and again +in at the first open door, taking unrebuked possession of hallowed +sanctuary, or kingly council-chamber. We no longer started at these +occurrences, nor at worse exhibition of change—when the palace had +become a mere tomb, pregnant with fetid stench, strewn with the dead; +and we could perceive how pestilence and fear had played strange +antics, chasing the luxurious dame to the dank fields and bare cottage; +gathering, among carpets of Indian woof, and beds of silk, the rough +peasant, or the deformed half-human shape of the wretched beggar. + +We arrived at Milan, and stationed ourselves in the Vice-Roy’s palace. +Here we made laws for ourselves, dividing our day, and fixing distinct +occupations for each hour. In the morning we rode in the adjoining +country, or wandered through the palaces, in search of pictures or +antiquities. In the evening we assembled to read or to converse. There +were few books that we dared read; few, that did not cruelly deface the +painting we bestowed on our solitude, by recalling combinations and +emotions never more to be experienced by us. Metaphysical disquisition; +fiction, which wandering from all reality, lost itself in self-created +errors; poets of times so far gone by, that to read of them was as to +read of Atlantis and Utopia; or such as referred to nature only, and +the workings of one particular mind; but most of all, talk, varied and +ever new, beguiled our hours. + +While we paused thus in our onward career towards death, time held on +its accustomed course. Still and for ever did the earth roll on, +enthroned in her atmospheric car, speeded by the force of the invisible +coursers of never-erring necessity. And now, this dew-drop in the sky, +this ball, ponderous with mountains, lucent with waves, passing from +the short tyranny of watery Pisces and the frigid Ram, entered the +radiant demesne of Taurus and the Twins. There, fanned by vernal airs, +the Spirit of Beauty sprung from her cold repose; and, with winnowing +wings and soft pacing feet, set a girdle of verdure around the earth, +sporting among the violets, hiding within the springing foliage of the +trees, tripping lightly down the radiant streams into the sunny deep. +“For lo! winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear +on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice +of the turtle is heard in our land; the fig tree putteth forth her +green figs, and the vines, with the tender grape, give a good +smell.”[26] Thus was it in the time of the ancient regal poet; thus was +it now. + +Yet how could we miserable hail the approach of this delightful season? +We hoped indeed that death did not now as heretofore walk in its +shadow; yet, left as we were alone to each other, we looked in each +other’s faces with enquiring eyes, not daring altogether to trust to +our presentiments, and endeavouring to divine which would be the +hapless survivor to the other three. We were to pass the summer at the +lake of Como, and thither we removed as soon as spring grew to her +maturity, and the snow disappeared from the hill tops. Ten miles from +Como, under the steep heights of the eastern mountains, by the margin +of the lake, was a villa called the Pliniana, from its being built on +the site of a fountain, whose periodical ebb and flow is described by +the younger Pliny in his letters. The house had nearly fallen into +ruin, till in the year 2090, an English nobleman had bought it, and +fitted it up with every luxury. Two large halls, hung with splendid +tapestry, and paved with marble, opened on each side of a court, of +whose two other sides one overlooked the deep dark lake, and the other +was bounded by a mountain, from whose stony side gushed, with roar and +splash, the celebrated fountain. Above, underwood of myrtle and tufts +of odorous plants crowned the rock, while the star-pointing giant +cypresses reared themselves in the blue air, and the recesses of the +hills were adorned with the luxuriant growth of chestnut-trees. Here we +fixed our summer residence. We had a lovely skiff, in which we sailed, +now stemming the midmost waves, now coasting the over-hanging and +craggy banks, thick sown with evergreens, which dipped their shining +leaves in the waters, and were mirrored in many a little bay and creek +of waters of translucent darkness. Here orange plants bloomed, here +birds poured forth melodious hymns; and here, during spring, the cold +snake emerged from the clefts, and basked on the sunny terraces of +rock. + +Were we not happy in this paradisiacal retreat? If some kind spirit had +whispered forgetfulness to us, methinks we should have been happy here, +where the precipitous mountains, nearly pathless, shut from our view +the far fields of desolate earth, and with small exertion of the +imagination, we might fancy that the cities were still resonant with +popular hum, and the peasant still guided his plough through the +furrow, and that we, the world’s free denizens, enjoyed a voluntary +exile, and not a remediless cutting off from our extinct species. + +Not one among us enjoyed the beauty of this scenery so much as Clara. +Before we quitted Milan, a change had taken place in her habits and +manners. She lost her gaiety, she laid aside her sports, and assumed an +almost vestal plainness of attire. She shunned us, retiring with Evelyn +to some distant chamber or silent nook; nor did she enter into his +pastimes with the same zest as she was wont, but would sit and watch +him with sadly tender smiles, and eyes bright with tears, yet without a +word of complaint. She approached us timidly, avoided our caresses, nor +shook off her embarrassment till some serious discussion or lofty theme +called her for awhile out of herself. Her beauty grew as a rose, which, +opening to the summer wind, discloses leaf after leaf till the sense +aches with its excess of loveliness. A slight and variable colour +tinged her cheeks, and her motions seemed attuned by some hidden +harmony of surpassing sweetness. We redoubled our tenderness and +earnest attentions. She received them with grateful smiles, that fled +swift as sunny beam from a glittering wave on an April day. + +Our only acknowledged point of sympathy with her, appeared to be +Evelyn. This dear little fellow was a comforter and delight to us +beyond all words. His buoyant spirit, and his innocent ignorance of our +vast calamity, were balm to us, whose thoughts and feelings were +over-wrought and spun out in the immensity of speculative sorrow. To +cherish, to caress, to amuse him was the common task of all. Clara, who +felt towards him in some degree like a young mother, gratefully +acknowledged our kindness towards him. To me, O! to me, who saw the +clear brows and soft eyes of the beloved of my heart, my lost and ever +dear Idris, re-born in his gentle face, to me he was dear even to pain; +if I pressed him to my heart, methought I clasped a real and living +part of her, who had lain there through long years of youthful +happiness. + +It was the custom of Adrian and myself to go out each day in our skiff +to forage in the adjacent country. In these expeditions we were seldom +accompanied by Clara or her little charge, but our return was an hour +of hilarity. Evelyn ransacked our stores with childish eagerness, and +we always brought some new found gift for our fair companion. Then too +we made discoveries of lovely scenes or gay palaces, whither in the +evening we all proceeded. Our sailing expeditions were most divine, and +with a fair wind or transverse course we cut the liquid waves; and, if +talk failed under the pressure of thought, I had my clarionet with me, +which awoke the echoes, and gave the change to our careful minds. Clara +at such times often returned to her former habits of free converse and +gay sally; and though our four hearts alone beat in the world, those +four hearts were happy. + +One day, on our return from the town of Como, with a laden boat, we +expected as usual to be met at the port by Clara and Evelyn, and we +were somewhat surprised to see the beach vacant. I, as my nature +prompted, would not prognosticate evil, but explained it away as a mere +casual incident. Not so Adrian. He was seized with sudden trembling and +apprehension, and he called to me with vehemence to steer quickly for +land, and, when near, leapt from the boat, half falling into the water; +and, scrambling up the steep bank, hastened along the narrow strip of +garden, the only level space between the lake and the mountain. I +followed without delay; the garden and inner court were empty, so was +the house, whose every room we visited. Adrian called loudly upon +Clara’s name, and was about to rush up the near mountain-path, when the +door of a summer-house at the end of the garden slowly opened, and +Clara appeared, not advancing towards us, but leaning against a column +of the building with blanched cheeks, in a posture of utter +despondency. Adrian sprang towards her with a cry of joy, and folded +her delightedly in his arms. She withdrew from his embrace, and, +without a word, again entered the summer-house. Her quivering lips, her +despairing heart refused to afford her voice to express our misfortune. +Poor little Evelyn had, while playing with her, been seized with sudden +fever, and now lay torpid and speechless on a little couch in the +summer-house. + +For a whole fortnight we unceasingly watched beside the poor child, as +his life declined under the ravages of a virulent typhus. His little +form and tiny lineaments encaged the embryo of the world-spanning mind +of man. Man’s nature, brimful of passions and affections, would have +had an home in that little heart, whose swift pulsations hurried +towards their close. His small hand’s fine mechanism, now flaccid and +unbent, would in the growth of sinew and muscle, have achieved works of +beauty or of strength. His tender rosy feet would have trod in firm +manhood the bowers and glades of earth— these reflections were now of +little use: he lay, thought and strength suspended, waiting unresisting +the final blow. + +We watched at his bedside, and when the access of fever was on him, we +neither spoke nor looked at each other, marking only his obstructed +breath and the mortal glow that tinged his sunken cheek, the heavy +death that weighed on his eyelids. It is a trite evasion to say, that +words could not express our long drawn agony; yet how can words image +sensations, whose tormenting keenness throw us back, as it were, on the +deep roots and hidden foundations of our nature, which shake our being +with earth-quake-throe, so that we leave to confide in accustomed +feelings which like mother-earth support us, and cling to some vain +imagination or deceitful hope, which will soon be buried in the ruins +occasioned by the final shock. I have called that period a fortnight, +which we passed watching the changes of the sweet child’s malady—and +such it might have been—at night, we wondered to find another day gone, +while each particular hour seemed endless. Day and night were exchanged +for one another uncounted; we slept hardly at all, nor did we even quit +his room, except when a pang of grief seized us, and we retired from +each other for a short period to conceal our sobs and tears. We +endeavoured in vain to abstract Clara from this deplorable scene. She +sat, hour after hour, looking at him, now softly arranging his pillow, +and, while he had power to swallow, administered his drink. At length +the moment of his death came: the blood paused in its flow —his eyes +opened, and then closed again: without convulsion or sigh, the frail +tenement was left vacant of its spiritual inhabitant. + +I have heard that the sight of the dead has confirmed materialists in +their belief. I ever felt otherwise. Was that my child—that moveless +decaying inanimation? My child was enraptured by my caresses; his dear +voice cloathed with meaning articulations his thoughts, otherwise +inaccessible; his smile was a ray of the soul, and the same soul sat +upon its throne in his eyes. I turn from this mockery of what he was. +Take, O earth, thy debt! freely and for ever I consign to thee the garb +thou didst afford. But thou, sweet child, amiable and beloved boy, +either thy spirit has sought a fitter dwelling, or, shrined in my +heart, thou livest while it lives. + +We placed his remains under a cypress, the upright mountain being +scooped out to receive them. And then Clara said, “If you wish me to +live, take me from hence. There is something in this scene of +transcendent beauty, in these trees, and hills and waves, that for ever +whisper to me, leave thy cumbrous flesh, and make a part of us. I +earnestly entreat you to take me away.” + +So on the fifteenth of August we bade adieu to our villa, and the +embowering shades of this abode of beauty; to calm bay and noisy +waterfall; to Evelyn’s little grave we bade farewell! and then, with +heavy hearts, we departed on our pilgrimage towards Rome. + + [25] Mary Wollstonecraft’s Letters from Norway. + + + [26] Solomon’s Song. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Now—soft awhile—have I arrived so near the end? Yes! it is all over +now—a step or two over those new made graves, and the wearisome way is +done. Can I accomplish my task? Can I streak my paper with words +capacious of the grand conclusion? Arise, black Melancholy! quit thy +Cimmerian solitude! Bring with thee murky fogs from hell, which may +drink up the day; bring blight and pestiferous exhalations, which, +entering the hollow caverns and breathing places of earth, may fill her +stony veins with corruption, so that not only herbage may no longer +flourish, the trees may rot, and the rivers run with gall—but the +everlasting mountains be decomposed, and the mighty deep putrify, and +the genial atmosphere which clips the globe, lose all powers of +generation and sustenance. Do this, sad visaged power, while I write, +while eyes read these pages. + +And who will read them? Beware, tender offspring of the re-born world— +beware, fair being, with human heart, yet untamed by care, and human +brow, yet unploughed by time—beware, lest the cheerful current of thy +blood be checked, thy golden locks turn grey, thy sweet dimpling smiles +be changed to fixed, harsh wrinkles! Let not day look on these lines, +lest garish day waste, turn pale, and die. Seek a cypress grove, whose +moaning boughs will be harmony befitting; seek some cave, deep +embowered in earth’s dark entrails, where no light will penetrate, save +that which struggles, red and flickering, through a single fissure, +staining thy page with grimmest livery of death. + +There is a painful confusion in my brain, which refuses to delineate +distinctly succeeding events. Sometimes the irradiation of my friend’s +gentle smile comes before me; and methinks its light spans and fills +eternity—then, again, I feel the gasping throes— + +We quitted Como, and in compliance with Adrian’s earnest desire, we +took Venice in our way to Rome. There was something to the English +peculiarly attractive in the idea of this wave-encircled, +island-enthroned city. Adrian had never seen it. We went down the Po +and the Brenta in a boat; and, the days proving intolerably hot, we +rested in the bordering palaces during the day, travelling through the +night, when darkness made the bordering banks indistinct, and our +solitude less remarkable; when the wandering moon lit the waves that +divided before our prow, and the night-wind filled our sails, and the +murmuring stream, waving trees, and swelling canvass, accorded in +harmonious strain. Clara, long overcome by excessive grief, had to a +great degree cast aside her timid, cold reserve, and received our +attentions with grateful tenderness. While Adrian with poetic fervour +discoursed of the glorious nations of the dead, of the beauteous earth +and the fate of man, she crept near him, drinking in his speech with +silent pleasure. We banished from our talk, and as much as possible +from our thoughts, the knowledge of our desolation. And it would be +incredible to an inhabitant of cities, to one among a busy throng, to +what extent we succeeded. It was as a man confined in a dungeon, whose +small and grated rift at first renders the doubtful light more sensibly +obscure, till, the visual orb having drunk in the beam, and adapted +itself to its scantiness, he finds that clear noon inhabits his cell. +So we, a simple triad on empty earth, were multiplied to each other, +till we became all in all. We stood like trees, whose roots are +loosened by the wind, which support one another, leaning and clinging +with encreased fervour while the wintry storms howl. Thus we floated +down the widening stream of the Po, sleeping when the cicale sang, +awake with the stars. We entered the narrower banks of the Brenta, and +arrived at the shore of the Laguna at sunrise on the sixth of +September. The bright orb slowly rose from behind its cupolas and +towers, and shed its penetrating light upon the glassy waters. Wrecks +of gondolas, and some few uninjured ones, were strewed on the beach at +Fusina. We embarked in one of these for the widowed daughter of ocean, +who, abandoned and fallen, sat forlorn on her propping isles, looking +towards the far mountains of Greece. We rowed lightly over the Laguna, +and entered Canale Grande. The tide ebbed sullenly from out the broken +portals and violated halls of Venice: sea weed and sea monsters were +left on the blackened marble, while the salt ooze defaced the matchless +works of art that adorned their walls, and the sea gull flew out from +the shattered window. In the midst of this appalling ruin of the +monuments of man’s power, nature asserted her ascendancy, and shone +more beauteous from the contrast. The radiant waters hardly trembled, +while the rippling waves made many sided mirrors to the sun; the blue +immensity, seen beyond Lido, stretched far, unspecked by boat, so +tranquil, so lovely, that it seemed to invite us to quit the land +strewn with ruins, and to seek refuge from sorrow and fear on its +placid extent. + +We saw the ruins of this hapless city from the height of the tower of +San Marco, immediately under us, and turned with sickening hearts to +the sea, which, though it be a grave, rears no monument, discloses no +ruin. Evening had come apace. The sun set in calm majesty behind the +misty summits of the Apennines, and its golden and roseate hues painted +the mountains of the opposite shore. “That land,” said Adrian, “tinged +with the last glories of the day, is Greece.” Greece! The sound had a +responsive chord in the bosom of Clara. She vehemently reminded us that +we had promised to take her once again to Greece, to the tomb of her +parents. Why go to Rome? what should we do at Rome? We might take one +of the many vessels to be found here, embark in it, and steer right for +Albania. + +I objected the dangers of ocean, and the distance of the mountains we +saw, from Athens; a distance which, from the savage uncultivation of +the country, was almost impassable. Adrian, who was delighted with +Clara’s proposal, obviated these objections. The season was favourable; +the north-west that blew would take us transversely across the gulph; +and then we might find, in some abandoned port, a light Greek caique, +adapted for such navigation, and run down the coast of the Morea, and, +passing over the Isthmus of Corinth, without much land-travelling or +fatigue, find ourselves at Athens. This appeared to me wild talk; but +the sea, glowing with a thousand purple hues, looked so brilliant and +safe; my beloved companions were so earnest, so determined, that, when +Adrian said, “Well, though it is not exactly what you wish, yet +consent, to please me”—I could no longer refuse. That evening we +selected a vessel, whose size just seemed fitted for our enterprize; we +bent the sails and put the rigging in order, and reposing that night in +one of the city’s thousand palaces, agreed to embark at sunrise the +following morning. + +When winds that move not its calm surface, sweep +The azure sea, I love the land no more; +The smiles of the serene and tranquil deep +Tempt my unquiet mind— + + +Thus said Adrian, quoting a translation of Moschus’s poem, as in the +clear morning light, we rowed over the Laguna, past Lido, into the open +sea—I would have added in continuation, + + But when the roar +Of ocean’s gray abyss resounds, and foam +Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst— + + +But my friends declared that such verses were evil augury; so in +cheerful mood we left the shallow waters, and, when out at sea, +unfurled our sails to catch the favourable breeze. The laughing morning +air filled them, while sun-light bathed earth, sky and ocean—the placid +waves divided to receive our keel, and playfully kissed the dark sides +of our little skiff, murmuring a welcome; as land receded, still the +blue expanse, most waveless, twin sister to the azure empyrean, +afforded smooth conduct to our bark. As the air and waters were +tranquil and balmy, so were our minds steeped in quiet. In comparison +with the unstained deep, funereal earth appeared a grave, its high +rocks and stately mountains were but monuments, its trees the plumes of +a herse, the brooks and rivers brackish with tears for departed man. +Farewell to desolate towns —to fields with their savage intermixture of +corn and weeds—to ever multiplying relics of our lost species. Ocean, +we commit ourselves to thee —even as the patriarch of old floated above +the drowned world, let us be saved, as thus we betake ourselves to thy +perennial flood. + +Adrian sat at the helm; I attended to the rigging, the breeze right aft +filled our swelling canvas, and we ran before it over the untroubled +deep. The wind died away at noon; its idle breath just permitted us to +hold our course. As lazy, fair-weather sailors, careless of the coming +hour, we talked gaily of our coasting voyage, of our arrival at Athens. +We would make our home of one of the Cyclades, and there in +myrtle-groves, amidst perpetual spring, fanned by the wholesome +sea-breezes—we would live long years in beatific union—Was there such a +thing as death in the world?— + +The sun passed its zenith, and lingered down the stainless floor of +heaven. Lying in the boat, my face turned up to the sky, I thought I +saw on its blue white, marbled streaks, so slight, so immaterial, that +now I said— They are there—and now, It is a mere imagination. A sudden +fear stung me while I gazed; and, starting up, and running to the +prow,—as I stood, my hair was gently lifted on my brow—a dark line of +ripples appeared to the east, gaining rapidly on us—my breathless +remark to Adrian, was followed by the flapping of the canvas, as the +adverse wind struck it, and our boat lurched—swift as speech, the web +of the storm thickened over head, the sun went down red, the dark sea +was strewed with foam, and our skiff rose and fell in its encreasing +furrows. + +Behold us now in our frail tenement, hemmed in by hungry, roaring +waves, buffeted by winds. In the inky east two vast clouds, sailing +contrary ways, met; the lightning leapt forth, and the hoarse thunder +muttered. Again in the south, the clouds replied, and the forked stream +of fire running along the black sky, shewed us the appalling piles of +clouds, now met and obliterated by the heaving waves. Great God! And we +alone—we three— alone—alone—sole dwellers on the sea and on the earth, +we three must perish! The vast universe, its myriad worlds, and the +plains of boundless earth which we had left—the extent of shoreless sea +around—contracted to my view—they and all that they contained, shrunk +up to one point, even to our tossing bark, freighted with glorious +humanity. + +A convulsion of despair crossed the love-beaming face of Adrian, while +with set teeth he murmured, “Yet they shall be saved!” Clara, visited +by an human pang, pale and trembling, crept near him—he looked on her +with an encouraging smile—“Do you fear, sweet girl? O, do not fear, we +shall soon be on shore!” + +The darkness prevented me from seeing the changes of her countenance; +but her voice was clear and sweet, as she replied, “Why should I fear? +neither sea nor storm can harm us, if mighty destiny or the ruler of +destiny does not permit. And then the stinging fear of surviving either +of you, is not here—one death will clasp us undivided.” + +Meanwhile we took in all our sails, save a gib; and, as soon as we +might without danger, changed our course, running with the wind for the +Italian shore. Dark night mixed everything; we hardly discerned the +white crests of the murderous surges, except when lightning made brief +noon, and drank the darkness, shewing us our danger, and restoring us +to double night. We were all silent, except when Adrian, as steersman, +made an encouraging observation. Our little shell obeyed the rudder +miraculously well, and ran along on the top of the waves, as if she had +been an offspring of the sea, and the angry mother sheltered her +endangered child. + +I sat at the prow, watching our course; when suddenly I heard the +waters break with redoubled fury. We were certainly near the shore—at +the same time I cried, “About there!” and a broad lightning filling the +concave, shewed us for one moment the level beach a-head, disclosing +even the sands, and stunted, ooze-sprinkled beds of reeds, that grew at +high water mark. Again it was dark, and we drew in our breath with such +content as one may, who, while fragments of volcano-hurled rock darken +the air, sees a vast mass ploughing the ground immediately at his feet. +What to do we knew not —the breakers here, there, everywhere, +encompassed us—they roared, and dashed, and flung their hated spray in +our faces. With considerable difficulty and danger we succeeded at +length in altering our course, and stretched out from shore. I urged my +companions to prepare for the wreck of our little skiff, and to bind +themselves to some oar or spar which might suffice to float them. I was +myself an excellent swimmer—the very sight of the sea was wont to raise +in me such sensations, as a huntsman experiences, when he hears a pack +of hounds in full cry; I loved to feel the waves wrap me and strive to +overpower me; while I, lord of myself, moved this way or that, in spite +of their angry buffetings. Adrian also could swim—but the weakness of +his frame prevented him from feeling pleasure in the exercise, or +acquiring any great expertness. But what power could the strongest +swimmer oppose to the overpowering violence of ocean in its fury? My +efforts to prepare my companions were rendered nearly futile —for the +roaring breakers prevented our hearing one another speak, and the +waves, that broke continually over our boat, obliged me to exert all my +strength in lading the water out, as fast as it came in. The while +darkness, palpable and rayless, hemmed us round, dissipated only by the +lightning; sometimes we beheld thunderbolts, fiery red, fall into the +sea, and at intervals vast spouts stooped from the clouds, churning the +wild ocean, which rose to meet them; while the fierce gale bore the +rack onwards, and they were lost in the chaotic mingling of sky and +sea. Our gunwales had been torn away, our single sail had been rent to +ribbands, and borne down the stream of the wind. We had cut away our +mast, and lightened the boat of all she contained—Clara attempted to +assist me in heaving the water from the hold, and, as she turned her +eyes to look on the lightning, I could discern by that momentary gleam, +that resignation had conquered every fear. We have a power given us in +any worst extremity, which props the else feeble mind of man, and +enables us to endure the most savage tortures with a stillness of soul +which in hours of happiness we could not have imagined. A calm, more +dreadful in truth than the tempest, allayed the wild beatings of my +heart—a calm like that of the gamester, the suicide, and the murderer, +when the last die is on the point of being cast—while the poisoned cup +is at the lips,—as the death-blow is about to be given. + +Hours passed thus—hours which might write old age on the face of +beardless youth, and grizzle the silky hair of infancy—-hours, while +the chaotic uproar continued, while each dread gust transcended in fury +the one before, and our skiff hung on the breaking wave, and then +rushed into the valley below, and trembled and spun between the watery +precipices that seemed most to meet above her. For a moment the gale +paused, and ocean sank to comparative silence—it was a breathless +interval; the wind which, as a practised leaper, had gathered itself up +before it sprung, now with terrific roar rushed over the sea, and the +waves struck our stern. Adrian exclaimed that the rudder was gone;—“We +are lost,” cried Clara, “Save yourselves—O save yourselves!” The +lightning shewed me the poor girl half buried in the water at the +bottom of the boat; as she was sinking in it Adrian caught her up, and +sustained her in his arms. We were without a rudder—we rushed prow +foremost into the vast billows piled up a-head— they broke over and +filled the tiny skiff; one scream I heard—one cry that we were gone, I +uttered; I found myself in the waters; darkness was around. When the +light of the tempest flashed, I saw the keel of our upset boat close to +me—I clung to this, grasping it with clenched hand and nails, while I +endeavoured during each flash to discover any appearance of my +companions. I thought I saw Adrian at no great distance from me, +clinging to an oar; I sprung from my hold, and with energy beyond my +human strength, I dashed aside the waters as I strove to lay hold of +him. As that hope failed, instinctive love of life animated me, and +feelings of contention, as if a hostile will combated with mine. I +breasted the surges, and flung them from me, as I would the opposing +front and sharpened claws of a lion about to enfang my bosom. When I +had been beaten down by one wave, I rose on another, while I felt +bitter pride curl my lip. + +Ever since the storm had carried us near the shore, we had never +attained any great distance from it. With every flash I saw the +bordering coast; yet the progress I made was small, while each wave, as +it receded, carried me back into ocean’s far abysses. At one moment I +felt my foot touch the sand, and then again I was in deep water; my +arms began to lose their power of motion; my breath failed me under the +influence of the strangling waters— a thousand wild and delirious +thoughts crossed me: as well as I can now recall them, my chief feeling +was, how sweet it would be to lay my head on the quiet earth, where the +surges would no longer strike my weakened frame, nor the sound of +waters ring in my ears—to attain this repose, not to save my life, I +made a last effort—the shelving shore suddenly presented a footing for +me. I rose, and was again thrown down by the breakers—a point of rock +to which I was enabled to cling, gave me a moment’s respite; and then, +taking advantage of the ebbing of the waves, I ran forwards— gained the +dry sands, and fell senseless on the oozy reeds that sprinkled them. + +I must have lain long deprived of life; for when first, with a +sickening feeling, I unclosed my eyes, the light of morning met them. +Great change had taken place meanwhile: grey dawn dappled the flying +clouds, which sped onwards, leaving visible at intervals vast lakes of +pure ether. A fountain of light arose in an encreasing stream from the +east, behind the waves of the Adriatic, changing the grey to a roseate +hue, and then flooding sky and sea with aerial gold. + +A kind of stupor followed my fainting; my senses were alive, but memory +was extinct. The blessed respite was short—a snake lurked near me to +sting me into life—on the first retrospective emotion I would have +started up, but my limbs refused to obey me; my knees trembled, the +muscles had lost all power. I still believed that I might find one of +my beloved companions cast like me, half alive, on the beach; and I +strove in every way to restore my frame to the use of its animal +functions. I wrung the brine from my hair; and the rays of the risen +sun soon visited me with genial warmth. With the restoration of my +bodily powers, my mind became in some degree aware of the universe of +misery, henceforth to be its dwelling. I ran to the water’s edge, +calling on the beloved names. Ocean drank in, and absorbed my feeble +voice, replying with pitiless roar. I climbed a near tree: the level +sands bounded by a pine forest, and the sea clipped round by the +horizon, was all that I could discern. In vain I extended my researches +along the beach; the mast we had thrown overboard, with tangled +cordage, and remnants of a sail, was the sole relic land received of +our wreck. Sometimes I stood still, and wrung my hands. I accused earth +and sky —the universal machine and the Almighty power that misdirected +it. Again I threw myself on the sands, and then the sighing wind, +mimicking a human cry, roused me to bitter, fallacious hope. Assuredly +if any little bark or smallest canoe had been near, I should have +sought the savage plains of ocean, found the dear remains of my lost +ones, and clinging round them, have shared their grave. + +The day passed thus; each moment contained eternity; although when hour +after hour had gone by, I wondered at the quick flight of time. Yet +even now I had not drunk the bitter potion to the dregs; I was not yet +persuaded of my loss; I did not yet feel in every pulsation, in every +nerve, in every thought, that I remained alone of my race,—that I was +the LAST MAN. + +The day had clouded over, and a drizzling rain set in at sunset. Even +the eternal skies weep, I thought; is there any shame then, that mortal +man should spend himself in tears? I remembered the ancient fables, in +which human beings are described as dissolving away through weeping +into ever-gushing fountains. Ah! that so it were; and then my destiny +would be in some sort akin to the watery death of Adrian and Clara. Oh! +grief is fantastic; it weaves a web on which to trace the history of +its woe from every form and change around; it incorporates itself with +all living nature; it finds sustenance in every object; as light, it +fills all things, and, like light, it gives its own colours to all. + +I had wandered in my search to some distance from the spot on which I +had been cast, and came to one of those watch-towers, which at stated +distances line the Italian shore. I was glad of shelter, glad to find a +work of human hands, after I had gazed so long on nature’s drear +barrenness; so I entered, and ascended the rough winding staircase into +the guard-room. So far was fate kind, that no harrowing vestige +remained of its former inhabitants; a few planks laid across two iron +tressels, and strewed with the dried leaves of Indian corn, was the bed +presented to me; and an open chest, containing some half mouldered +biscuit, awakened an appetite, which perhaps existed before, but of +which, until now, I was not aware. Thirst also, violent and parching, +the result of the sea-water I had drank, and of the exhaustion of my +frame, tormented me. Kind nature had gifted the supply of these wants +with pleasurable sensations, so that I—even I!—was refreshed and +calmed, as I ate of this sorry fare, and drank a little of the sour +wine which half filled a flask left in this abandoned dwelling. Then I +stretched myself on the bed, not to be disdained by the victim of +shipwreck. The earthy smell of the dried leaves was balm to my sense +after the hateful odour of sea-weed. I forgot my state of loneliness. I +neither looked backward nor forward; my senses were hushed to repose; I +fell asleep and dreamed of all dear inland scenes, of hay-makers, of +the shepherd’s whistle to his dog, when he demanded his help to drive +the flock to fold; of sights and sounds peculiar to my boyhood’s +mountain life, which I had long forgotten. + +I awoke in a painful agony—for I fancied that ocean, breaking its +bounds, carried away the fixed continent and deep rooted mountains, +together with the streams I loved, the woods, and the flocks—it raged +around, with that continued and dreadful roar which had accompanied the +last wreck of surviving humanity. As my waking sense returned, the bare +walls of the guard room closed round me, and the rain pattered against +the single window. How dreadful it is, to emerge from the oblivion of +slumber, and to receive as a good morrow the mute wailing of one’s own +hapless heart —to return from the land of deceptive dreams, to the +heavy knowledge of unchanged disaster!—Thus was it with me, now, and +for ever! The sting of other griefs might be blunted by time; and even +mine yielded sometimes during the day, to the pleasure inspired by the +imagination or the senses; but I never look first upon the +morning-light but with my fingers pressed tight on my bursting heart, +and my soul deluged with the interminable flood of hopeless misery. Now +I awoke for the first time in the dead world—I awoke alone—and the dull +dirge of the sea, heard even amidst the rain, recalled me to the +reflection of the wretch I had become. The sound came like a reproach, +a scoff—like the sting of remorse in the soul—I gasped—the veins and +muscles of my throat swelled, suffocating me. I put my fingers to my +ears, I buried my head in the leaves of my couch, I would have dived to +the centre to lose hearing of that hideous moan. + +But another task must be mine—again I visited the detested beach— again +I vainly looked far and wide—again I raised my unanswered cry, lifting +up the only voice that could ever again force the mute air to syllable +the human thought. + +What a pitiable, forlorn, disconsolate being I was! My very aspect and +garb told the tale of my despair. My hair was matted and wild—my limbs +soiled with salt ooze; while at sea, I had thrown off those of my +garments that encumbered me, and the rain drenched the thin +summer-clothing I had retained—my feet were bare, and the stunted reeds +and broken shells made them bleed—the while, I hurried to and fro, now +looking earnestly on some distant rock which, islanded in the sands, +bore for a moment a deceptive appearance—now with flashing eyes +reproaching the murderous ocean for its unutterable cruelty. + +For a moment I compared myself to that monarch of the waste—Robinson +Crusoe. We had been both thrown companionless—he on the shore of a +desolate island: I on that of a desolate world. I was rich in the so +called goods of life. If I turned my steps from the near barren scene, +and entered any of the earth’s million cities, I should find their +wealth stored up for my accommodation—clothes, food, books, and a +choice of dwelling beyond the command of the princes of former +times—every climate was subject to my selection, while he was obliged +to toil in the acquirement of every necessary, and was the inhabitant +of a tropical island, against whose heats and storms he could obtain +small shelter.—Viewing the question thus, who would not have preferred +the Sybarite enjoyments I could command, the philosophic leisure, and +ample intellectual resources, to his life of labour and peril? Yet he +was far happier than I: for he could hope, nor hope in vain—the +destined vessel at last arrived, to bear him to countrymen and kindred, +where the events of his solitude became a fire-side tale. To none could +I ever relate the story of my adversity; no hope had I. He knew that, +beyond the ocean which begirt his lonely island, thousands lived whom +the sun enlightened when it shone also on him: beneath the meridian sun +and visiting moon, I alone bore human features; I alone could give +articulation to thought; and, when I slept, both day and night were +unbeheld of any. He had fled from his fellows, and was transported with +terror at the print of a human foot. I would have knelt down and +worshipped the same. The wild and cruel Caribbee, the merciless +Cannibal—or worse than these, the uncouth, brute, and remorseless +veteran in the vices of civilization, would have been to me a beloved +companion, a treasure dearly prized—his nature would be kin to mine; +his form cast in the same mould; human blood would flow in his veins; a +human sympathy must link us for ever. It cannot be that I shall never +behold a fellow being more!—never! —never!—not in the course of +years!—Shall I wake, and speak to none, pass the interminable hours, my +soul, islanded in the world, a solitary point, surrounded by vacuum? +Will day follow day endlessly thus? —No! no! a God rules the +world—providence has not exchanged its golden sceptre for an aspic’s +sting. Away! let me fly from the ocean-grave, let me depart from this +barren nook, paled in, as it is, from access by its own desolateness; +let me tread once again the paved towns; step over the threshold of +man’s dwellings, and most certainly I shall find this thought a +horrible vision—a maddening, but evanescent dream. + +I entered Ravenna, (the town nearest to the spot whereon I had been +cast), before the second sun had set on the empty world; I saw many +living creatures; oxen, and horses, and dogs, but there was no man +among them; I entered a cottage, it was vacant; I ascended the marble +stairs of a palace, the bats and the owls were nestled in the tapestry; +I stepped softly, not to awaken the sleeping town: I rebuked a dog, +that by yelping disturbed the sacred stillness; I would not believe +that all was as it seemed—The world was not dead, but I was mad; I was +deprived of sight, hearing, and sense of touch; I was labouring under +the force of a spell, which permitted me to behold all sights of earth, +except its human inhabitants; they were pursuing their ordinary +labours. Every house had its inmate; but I could not perceive them. If +I could have deluded myself into a belief of this kind, I should have +been far more satisfied. But my brain, tenacious of its reason, refused +to lend itself to such imaginations—and though I endeavoured to play +the antic to myself, I knew that I, the offspring of man, during long +years one among many—now remained sole survivor of my species. + +The sun sank behind the western hills; I had fasted since the preceding +evening, but, though faint and weary, I loathed food, nor ceased, while +yet a ray of light remained, to pace the lonely streets. Night came on, +and sent every living creature but me to the bosom of its mate. It was +my solace, to blunt my mental agony by personal hardship—of the +thousand beds around, I would not seek the luxury of one; I lay down on +the pavement,—a cold marble step served me for a pillow—midnight came; +and then, though not before, did my wearied lids shut out the sight of +the twinkling stars, and their reflex on the pavement near. Thus I +passed the second night of my desolation. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +I awoke in the morning, just as the higher windows of the lofty houses +received the first beams of the rising sun. The birds were chirping, +perched on the windows sills and deserted thresholds of the doors. I +awoke, and my first thought was, Adrian and Clara are dead. I no longer +shall be hailed by their good-morrow—or pass the long day in their +society. I shall never see them more. The ocean has robbed me of +them—stolen their hearts of love from their breasts, and given over to +corruption what was dearer to me than light, or life, or hope. + +I was an untaught shepherd-boy, when Adrian deigned to confer on me his +friendship. The best years of my life had been passed with him. All I +had possessed of this world’s goods, of happiness, knowledge, or +virtue—I owed to him. He had, in his person, his intellect, and rare +qualities, given a glory to my life, which without him it had never +known. Beyond all other beings he had taught me, that goodness, pure +and single, can be an attribute of man. It was a sight for angels to +congregate to behold, to view him lead, govern, and solace, the last +days of the human race. + +My lovely Clara also was lost to me—she who last of the daughters of +man, exhibited all those feminine and maiden virtues, which poets, +painters, and sculptors, have in their various languages strove to +express. Yet, as far as she was concerned, could I lament that she was +removed in early youth from the certain advent of misery? Pure she was +of soul, and all her intents were holy. But her heart was the throne of +love, and the sensibility her lovely countenance expressed, was the +prophet of many woes, not the less deep and drear, because she would +have for ever concealed them. + +These two wondrously endowed beings had been spared from the universal +wreck, to be my companions during the last year of solitude. I had +felt, while they were with me, all their worth. I was conscious that +every other sentiment, regret, or passion had by degrees merged into a +yearning, clinging affection for them. I had not forgotten the sweet +partner of my youth, mother of my children, my adored Idris; but I saw +at least a part of her spirit alive again in her brother; and after, +that by Evelyn’s death I had lost what most dearly recalled her to me; +I enshrined her memory in Adrian’s form, and endeavoured to confound +the two dear ideas. I sound the depths of my heart, and try in vain to +draw thence the expressions that can typify my love for these remnants +of my race. If regret and sorrow came athwart me, as well it might in +our solitary and uncertain state, the clear tones of Adrian’s voice, +and his fervent look, dissipated the gloom; or I was cheered unaware by +the mild content and sweet resignation Clara’s cloudless brow and deep +blue eyes expressed. They were all to me—the suns of my benighted +soul—repose in my weariness—slumber in my sleepless woe. Ill, most ill, +with disjointed words, bare and weak, have I expressed the feeling with +which I clung to them. I would have wound myself like ivy inextricably +round them, so that the same blow might destroy us. I would have +entered and been a part of them—so that + +If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, + + +even now I had accompanied them to their new and incommunicable abode. + +Never shall I see them more. I am bereft of their dear converse—bereft +of sight of them. I am a tree rent by lightning; never will the bark +close over the bared fibres—never will their quivering life, torn by +the winds, receive the opiate of a moment’s balm. I am alone in the +world— but that expression as yet was less pregnant with misery, than +that Adrian and Clara are dead. + +The tide of thought and feeling rolls on for ever the same, though the +banks and shapes around, which govern its course, and the reflection in +the wave, vary. Thus the sentiment of immediate loss in some sort +decayed, while that of utter, irremediable loneliness grew on me with +time. Three days I wandered through Ravenna—now thinking only of the +beloved beings who slept in the oozy caves of ocean—now looking forward +on the dread blank before me; shuddering to make an onward +step—writhing at each change that marked the progress of the hours. + +For three days I wandered to and fro in this melancholy town. I passed +whole hours in going from house to house, listening whether I could +detect some lurking sign of human existence. Sometimes I rang at a +bell; it tinkled through the vaulted rooms, and silence succeeded to +the sound. I called myself hopeless, yet still I hoped; and still +disappointment ushered in the hours, intruding the cold, sharp steel +which first pierced me, into the aching festering wound. I fed like a +wild beast, which seizes its food only when stung by intolerable +hunger. I did not change my garb, or seek the shelter of a roof, during +all those days. Burning heats, nervous irritation, a ceaseless, but +confused flow of thought, sleepless nights, and days instinct with a +frenzy of agitation, possessed me during that time. + +As the fever of my blood encreased, a desire of wandering came upon me. +I remember, that the sun had set on the fifth day after my wreck, when, +without purpose or aim, I quitted the town of Ravenna. I must have been +very ill. Had I been possessed by more or less of delirium, that night +had surely been my last; for, as I continued to walk on the banks of +the Mantone, whose upward course I followed, I looked wistfully on the +stream, acknowledging to myself that its pellucid waves could medicine +my woes for ever, and was unable to account to myself for my tardiness +in seeking their shelter from the poisoned arrows of thought, that were +piercing me through and through. I walked a considerable part of the +night, and excessive weariness at length conquered my repugnance to the +availing myself of the deserted habitations of my species. The waning +moon, which had just risen, shewed me a cottage, whose neat entrance +and trim garden reminded me of my own England. I lifted up the latch of +the door and entered. A kitchen first presented itself, where, guided +by the moon beams, I found materials for striking a light. Within this +was a bed room; the couch was furnished with sheets of snowy whiteness; +the wood piled on the hearth, and an array as for a meal, might almost +have deceived me into the dear belief that I had here found what I had +so long sought—one survivor, a companion for my loneliness, a solace to +my despair. I steeled myself against the delusion; the room itself was +vacant: it was only prudent, I repeated to myself, to examine the rest +of the house. I fancied that I was proof against the expectation; yet +my heart beat audibly, as I laid my hand on the lock of each door, and +it sunk again, when I perceived in each the same vacancy. Dark and +silent they were as vaults; so I returned to the first chamber, +wondering what sightless host had spread the materials for my repast, +and my repose. I drew a chair to the table, and examined what the +viands were of which I was to partake. In truth it was a death feast! +The bread was blue and mouldy; the cheese lay a heap of dust. I did not +dare examine the other dishes; a troop of ants passed in a double line +across the table cloth; every utensil was covered with dust, with +cobwebs, and myriads of dead flies: these were objects each and all +betokening the fallaciousness of my expectations. Tears rushed into my +eyes; surely this was a wanton display of the power of the destroyer. +What had I done, that each sensitive nerve was thus to be anatomized? +Yet why complain more now than ever? This vacant cottage revealed no +new sorrow— the world was empty; mankind was dead—I knew it well—why +quarrel therefore with an acknowledged and stale truth? Yet, as I said, +I had hoped in the very heart of despair, so that every new impression +of the hard-cut reality on my soul brought with it a fresh pang, +telling me the yet unstudied lesson, that neither change of place nor +time could bring alleviation to my misery, but that, as I now was, I +must continue, day after day, month after month, year after year, while +I lived. I hardly dared conjecture what space of time that expression +implied. It is true, I was no longer in the first blush of manhood; +neither had I declined far in the vale of years—men have accounted mine +the prime of life: I had just entered my thirty-seventh year; every +limb was as well knit, every articulation as true, as when I had acted +the shepherd on the hills of Cumberland; and with these advantages I +was to commence the train of solitary life. Such were the reflections +that ushered in my slumber on that night. + +The shelter, however, and less disturbed repose which I enjoyed, +restored me the following morning to a greater portion of health and +strength, than I had experienced since my fatal shipwreck. Among the +stores I had discovered on searching the cottage the preceding night, +was a quantity of dried grapes; these refreshed me in the morning, as I +left my lodging and proceeded towards a town which I discerned at no +great distance. As far as I could divine, it must have been Forli. I +entered with pleasure its wide and grassy streets. All, it is true, +pictured the excess of desolation; yet I loved to find myself in those +spots which had been the abode of my fellow creatures. I delighted to +traverse street after street, to look up at the tall houses, and repeat +to myself, once they contained beings similar to myself—I was not +always the wretch I am now. The wide square of Forli, the arcade around +it, its light and pleasant aspect cheered me. I was pleased with the +idea, that, if the earth should be again peopled, we, the lost race, +would, in the relics left behind, present no contemptible exhibition of +our powers to the new comers. + +I entered one of the palaces, and opened the door of a magnificent +saloon. I started—I looked again with renewed wonder. What +wild-looking, unkempt, half-naked savage was that before me? The +surprise was momentary. + +I perceived that it was I myself whom I beheld in a large mirror at the +end of the hall. No wonder that the lover of the princely Idris should +fail to recognize himself in the miserable object there pourtrayed. My +tattered dress was that in which I had crawled half alive from the +tempestuous sea. My long and tangled hair hung in elf locks on my +brow—my dark eyes, now hollow and wild, gleamed from under them—my +cheeks were discoloured by the jaundice, which (the effect of misery +and neglect) suffused my skin, and were half hid by a beard of many +days’ growth. + +Yet why should I not remain thus, I thought; the world is dead, and +this squalid attire is a fitter mourning garb than the foppery of a +black suit. And thus, methinks, I should have remained, had not hope, +without which I do not believe man could exist, whispered to me, that, +in such a plight, I should be an object of fear and aversion to the +being, preserved I knew not where, but I fondly trusted, at length, to +be found by me. Will my readers scorn the vanity, that made me attire +myself with some care, for the sake of this visionary being? Or will +they forgive the freaks of a half crazed imagination? I can easily +forgive myself—for hope, however vague, was so dear to me, and a +sentiment of pleasure of so rare occurrence, that I yielded readily to +any idea, that cherished the one, or promised any recurrence of the +former to my sorrowing heart. After such occupation, I visited every +street, alley, and nook of Forli. These Italian towns presented an +appearance of still greater desolation, than those of England or +France. Plague had appeared here earlier—it had finished its course, +and achieved its work much sooner than with us. Probably the last +summer had found no human being alive, in all the track included +between the shores of Calabria and the northern Alps. My search was +utterly vain, yet I did not despond. Reason methought was on my side; +and the chances were by no means contemptible, that there should exist +in some part of Italy a survivor like myself—of a wasted, depopulate +land. As therefore I rambled through the empty town, I formed my plan +for future operations. I would continue to journey on towards Rome. +After I should have satisfied myself, by a narrow search, that I left +behind no human being in the towns through which I passed, I would +write up in a conspicuous part of each, with white paint, in three +languages, that “Verney, the last of the race of Englishmen, had taken +up his abode in Rome.” + +In pursuance of this scheme, I entered a painter’s shop, and procured +myself the paint. It is strange that so trivial an occupation should +have consoled, and even enlivened me. But grief renders one childish, +despair fantastic. To this simple inscription, I merely added the +adjuration, “Friend, come! I wait for thee!—_Deh, vieni! ti aspetto!_” +On the following morning, with something like hope for my companion, I +quitted Forli on my way to Rome. Until now, agonizing retrospect, and +dreary prospects for the future, had stung me when awake, and cradled +me to my repose. Many times I had delivered myself up to the tyranny of +anguish— many times I resolved a speedy end to my woes; and death by my +own hands was a remedy, whose practicability was even cheering to me. +What could I fear in the other world? If there were an hell, and I were +doomed to it, I should come an adept to the sufferance of its +tortures—the act were easy, the speedy and certain end of my deplorable +tragedy. But now these thoughts faded before the new born expectation. +I went on my way, not as before, feeling each hour, each minute, to be +an age instinct with incalculable pain. + +As I wandered along the plain, at the foot of the Appennines—through +their vallies, and over their bleak summits, my path led me through a +country which had been trodden by heroes, visited and admired by +thousands. They had, as a tide, receded, leaving me blank and bare in +the midst. But why complain? Did I not hope?—so I schooled myself, even +after the enlivening spirit had really deserted me, and thus I was +obliged to call up all the fortitude I could command, and that was not +much, to prevent a recurrence of that chaotic and intolerable despair, +that had succeeded to the miserable shipwreck, that had consummated +every fear, and dashed to annihilation every joy. + +I rose each day with the morning sun, and left my desolate inn. As my +feet strayed through the unpeopled country, my thoughts rambled through +the universe, and I was least miserable when I could, absorbed in +reverie, forget the passage of the hours. Each evening, in spite of +weariness, I detested to enter any dwelling, there to take up my +nightly abode—I have sat, hour after hour, at the door of the cottage I +had selected, unable to lift the latch, and meet face to face blank +desertion within. Many nights, though autumnal mists were spread +around, I passed under an ilex—many times I have supped on arbutus +berries and chestnuts, making a fire, gypsy-like, on the ground—because +wild natural scenery reminded me less acutely of my hopeless state of +loneliness. I counted the days, and bore with me a peeled willow-wand, +on which, as well as I could remember, I had notched the days that had +elapsed since my wreck, and each night I added another unit to the +melancholy sum. + +I had toiled up a hill which led to Spoleto. Around was spread a plain, +encircled by the chestnut-covered Appennines. A dark ravine was on one +side, spanned by an aqueduct, whose tall arches were rooted in the dell +below, and attested that man had once deigned to bestow labour and +thought here, to adorn and civilize nature. Savage, ungrateful nature, +which in wild sport defaced his remains, protruding her easily renewed, +and fragile growth of wild flowers and parasite plants around his +eternal edifices. I sat on a fragment of rock, and looked round. The +sun had bathed in gold the western atmosphere, and in the east the +clouds caught the radiance, and budded into transient loveliness. It +set on a world that contained me alone for its inhabitant. I took out +my wand—I counted the marks. Twenty-five were already +traced—twenty-five days had already elapsed, since human voice had +gladdened my ears, or human countenance met my gaze. Twenty-five long, +weary days, succeeded by dark and lonesome nights, had mingled with +foregone years, and had become a part of the past—the never to be +recalled—a real, undeniable portion of my life—twenty-five long, long +days. + +Why this was not a month!—Why talk of days—or weeks—or months—I must +grasp years in my imagination, if I would truly picture the future to +myself—three, five, ten, twenty, fifty anniversaries of that fatal +epoch might elapse—every year containing twelve months, each of more +numerous calculation in a diary, than the twenty-five days gone by—Can +it be? Will it be?—We had been used to look forward to death +tremulously— wherefore, but because its place was obscure? But more +terrible, and far more obscure, was the unveiled course of my lone +futurity. I broke my wand; I threw it from me. I needed no recorder of +the inch and barley-corn growth of my life, while my unquiet thoughts +created other divisions, than those ruled over by the planets—and, in +looking back on the age that had elapsed since I had been alone, I +disdained to give the name of days and hours to the throes of agony +which had in truth portioned it out. + +I hid my face in my hands. The twitter of the young birds going to +rest, and their rustling among the trees, disturbed the still +evening-air—the crickets chirped—the aziolo cooed at intervals. My +thoughts had been of death—these sounds spoke to me of life. I lifted +up my eyes—a bat wheeled round—the sun had sunk behind the jagged line +of mountains, and the paly, crescent moon was visible, silver white, +amidst the orange sunset, and accompanied by one bright star, prolonged +thus the twilight. A herd of cattle passed along in the dell below, +untended, towards their watering place—the grass was rustled by a +gentle breeze, and the olive-woods, mellowed into soft masses by the +moonlight, contrasted their sea-green with the dark chestnut foliage. +Yes, this is the earth; there is no change—no ruin—no rent made in her +verdurous expanse; she continues to wheel round and round, with +alternate night and day, through the sky, though man is not her adorner +or inhabitant. Why could I not forget myself like one of those animals, +and no longer suffer the wild tumult of misery that I endure? Yet, ah! +what a deadly breach yawns between their state and mine! Have not they +companions? Have not they each their mate—their cherished young, their +home, which, though unexpressed to us, is, I doubt not, endeared and +enriched, even in their eyes, by the society which kind nature has +created for them? It is I only that am alone—I, on this little hill +top, gazing on plain and mountain recess—on sky, and its starry +population, listening to every sound of earth, and air, and murmuring +wave,—I only cannot express to any companion my many thoughts, nor lay +my throbbing head on any loved bosom, nor drink from meeting eyes an +intoxicating dew, that transcends the fabulous nectar of the gods. +Shall I not then complain? Shall I not curse the murderous engine which +has mowed down the children of men, my brethren? Shall I not bestow a +malediction on every other of nature’s offspring, which dares live and +enjoy, while I live and suffer? + +Ah, no! I will discipline my sorrowing heart to sympathy in your joys; +I will be happy, because ye are so. Live on, ye innocents, nature’s +selected darlings; I am not much unlike to you. Nerves, pulse, brain, +joint, and flesh, of such am I composed, and ye are organized by the +same laws. I have something beyond this, but I will call it a defect, +not an endowment, if it leads me to misery, while ye are happy. Just +then, there emerged from a near copse two goats and a little kid, by +the mother’s side; they began to browze the herbage of the hill. I +approached near to them, without their perceiving me; I gathered a +handful of fresh grass, and held it out; the little one nestled close +to its mother, while she timidly withdrew. The male stepped forward, +fixing his eyes on me: I drew near, still holding out my lure, while +he, depressing his head, rushed at me with his horns. I was a very +fool; I knew it, yet I yielded to my rage. I snatched up a huge +fragment of rock; it would have crushed my rash foe. I poized it—aimed +it—then my heart failed me. I hurled it wide of the mark; it rolled +clattering among the bushes into dell. My little visitants, all aghast, +galloped back into the covert of the wood; while I, my very heart +bleeding and torn, rushed down the hill, and by the violence of bodily +exertion, sought to escape from my miserable self. + +No, no, I will not live among the wild scenes of nature, the enemy of +all that lives. I will seek the towns—Rome, the capital of the world, +the crown of man’s achievements. Among its storied streets, hallowed +ruins, and stupendous remains of human exertion, I shall not, as here, +find every thing forgetful of man; trampling on his memory, defacing +his works, proclaiming from hill to hill, and vale to vale,—by the +torrents freed from the boundaries which he imposed—by the vegetation +liberated from the laws which he enforced—by his habitation abandoned +to mildew and weeds, that his power is lost, his race annihilated for +ever. + +I hailed the Tiber, for that was as it were an unalienable possession +of humanity. I hailed the wild Campagna, for every rood had been trod +by man; and its savage uncultivation, of no recent date, only +proclaimed more distinctly his power, since he had given an honourable +name and sacred title to what else would have been a worthless, barren +track. I entered Eternal Rome by the Porta del Popolo, and saluted with +awe its time-honoured space. The wide square, the churches near, the +long extent of the Corso, the near eminence of Trinita de’ Monti +appeared like fairy work, they were so silent, so peaceful, and so very +fair. It was evening; and the population of animals which still existed +in this mighty city, had gone to rest; there was no sound, save the +murmur of its many fountains, whose soft monotony was harmony to my +soul. The knowledge that I was in Rome, soothed me; that wondrous city, +hardly more illustrious for its heroes and sages, than for the power it +exercised over the imaginations of men. I went to rest that night; the +eternal burning of my heart quenched,—my senses tranquil. + +The next morning I eagerly began my rambles in search of oblivion. I +ascended the many terraces of the garden of the Colonna Palace, under +whose roof I had been sleeping; and passing out from it at its summit, +I found myself on Monte Cavallo. The fountain sparkled in the sun; the +obelisk above pierced the clear dark-blue air. The statues on each +side, the works, as they are inscribed, of Phidias and Praxiteles, +stood in undiminished grandeur, representing Castor and Pollux, who +with majestic power tamed the rearing animal at their side. If those +illustrious artists had in truth chiselled these forms, how many +passing generations had their giant proportions outlived! and now they +were viewed by the last of the species they were sculptured to +represent and deify. I had shrunk into insignificance in my own eyes, +as I considered the multitudinous beings these stone demigods had +outlived, but this after-thought restored me to dignity in my own +conception. The sight of the poetry eternized in these statues, took +the sting from the thought, arraying it only in poetic ideality. + +I repeated to myself,—I am in Rome! I behold, and as it were, +familiarly converse with the wonder of the world, sovereign mistress of +the imagination, majestic and eternal survivor of millions of +generations of extinct men. I endeavoured to quiet the sorrows of my +aching heart, by even now taking an interest in what in my youth I had +ardently longed to see. Every part of Rome is replete with relics of +ancient times. The meanest streets are strewed with truncated columns, +broken capitals—Corinthian and Ionic, and sparkling fragments of +granite or porphyry. The walls of the most penurious dwellings enclose +a fluted pillar or ponderous stone, which once made part of the palace +of the Cæsars; and the voice of dead time, in still vibrations, is +breathed from these dumb things, animated and glorified as they were by +man. + +I embraced the vast columns of the temple of Jupiter Stator, which +survives in the open space that was the Forum, and leaning my burning +cheek against its cold durability, I tried to lose the sense of present +misery and present desertion, by recalling to the haunted cell of my +brain vivid memories of times gone by. I rejoiced at my success, as I +figured Camillus, the Gracchi, Cato, and last the heroes of Tacitus, +which shine meteors of surpassing brightness during the murky night of +the empire;—as the verses of Horace and Virgil, or the glowing periods +of Cicero thronged into the opened gates of my mind, I felt myself +exalted by long forgotten enthusiasm. I was delighted to know that I +beheld the scene which they beheld—the scene which their wives and +mothers, and crowds of the unnamed witnessed, while at the same time +they honoured, applauded, or wept for these matchless specimens of +humanity. At length, then, I had found a consolation. I had not vainly +sought the storied precincts of Rome—I had discovered a medicine for my +many and vital wounds. + +I sat at the foot of these vast columns. The Coliseum, whose naked ruin +is robed by nature in a verdurous and glowing veil, lay in the sunlight +on my right. Not far off, to the left, was the Tower of the Capitol. +Triumphal arches, the falling walls of many temples, strewed the ground +at my feet. I strove, I resolved, to force myself to see the Plebeian +multitude and lofty Patrician forms congregated around; and, as the +Diorama of ages passed across my subdued fancy, they were replaced by +the modern Roman; the Pope, in his white stole, distributing +benedictions to the kneeling worshippers; the friar in his cowl; the +dark-eyed girl, veiled by her mezzera; the noisy, sun-burnt rustic, +leading his herd of buffaloes and oxen to the Campo Vaccino. The +romance with which, dipping our pencils in the rainbow hues of sky and +transcendent nature, we to a degree gratuitously endow the Italians, +replaced the solemn grandeur of antiquity. I remembered the dark monk, +and floating figures of “The Italian,” and how my boyish blood had +thrilled at the description. I called to mind Corinna ascending the +Capitol to be crowned, and, passing from the heroine to the author, +reflected how the Enchantress Spirit of Rome held sovereign sway over +the minds of the imaginative, until it rested on me—sole remaining +spectator of its wonders. + +I was long wrapt by such ideas; but the soul wearies of a pauseless +flight; and, stooping from its wheeling circuits round and round this +spot, suddenly it fell ten thousand fathom deep, into the abyss of the +present— into self-knowledge—into tenfold sadness. I roused myself—I +cast off my waking dreams; and I, who just now could almost hear the +shouts of the Roman throng, and was hustled by countless multitudes, +now beheld the desart ruins of Rome sleeping under its own blue sky; +the shadows lay tranquilly on the ground; sheep were grazing untended +on the Palatine, and a buffalo stalked down the Sacred Way that led to +the Capitol. I was alone in the Forum; alone in Rome; alone in the +world. Would not one living man —one companion in my weary solitude, be +worth all the glory and remembered power of this time-honoured city? +Double sorrow—sadness, bred in Cimmerian caves, robed my soul in a +mourning garb. The generations I had conjured up to my fancy, +contrasted more strongly with the end of all —the single point in +which, as a pyramid, the mighty fabric of society had ended, while I, +on the giddy height, saw vacant space around me. + +From such vague laments I turned to the contemplation of the minutiae +of my situation. So far, I had not succeeded in the sole object of my +desires, the finding a companion for my desolation. Yet I did not +despair. It is true that my inscriptions were set up for the most part, +in insignificant towns and villages; yet, even without these memorials, +it was possible that the person, who like me should find himself alone +in a depopulate land, should, like me, come to Rome. The more slender +my expectation was, the more I chose to build on it, and to accommodate +my actions to this vague possibility. + +It became necessary therefore, that for a time I should domesticate +myself at Rome. It became necessary, that I should look my disaster in +the face— not playing the school-boy’s part of obedience without +submission; enduring life, and yet rebelling against the laws by which +I lived. + +Yet how could I resign myself? Without love, without sympathy, without +communion with any, how could I meet the morning sun, and with it trace +its oft repeated journey to the evening shades? Why did I continue to +live— why not throw off the weary weight of time, and with my own hand, +let out the fluttering prisoner from my agonized breast?—It was not +cowardice that withheld me; for the true fortitude was to endure; and +death had a soothing sound accompanying it, that would easily entice me +to enter its demesne. But this I would not do. I had, from the moment I +had reasoned on the subject, instituted myself the subject to fate, and +the servant of necessity, the visible laws of the invisible God—I +believed that my obedience was the result of sound reasoning, pure +feeling, and an exalted sense of the true excellence and nobility of my +nature. Could I have seen in this empty earth, in the seasons and their +change, the hand of a blind power only, most willingly would I have +placed my head on the sod, and closed my eyes on its loveliness for +ever. But fate had administered life to me, when the plague had already +seized on its prey—she had dragged me by the hair from out the +strangling waves—By such miracles she had bought me for her own; I +admitted her authority, and bowed to her decrees. If, after mature +consideration, such was my resolve, it was doubly necessary that I +should not lose the end of life, the improvement of my faculties, and +poison its flow by repinings without end. Yet how cease to repine, +since there was no hand near to extract the barbed spear that had +entered my heart of hearts? I stretched out my hand, and it touched +none whose sensations were responsive to mine. I was girded, walled in, +vaulted over, by seven-fold barriers of loneliness. Occupation alone, +if I could deliver myself up to it, would be capable of affording an +opiate to my sleepless sense of woe. Having determined to make Rome my +abode, at least for some months, I made arrangements for my +accommodation—I selected my home. The Colonna Palace was well adapted +for my purpose. Its grandeur— its treasure of paintings, its +magnificent halls were objects soothing and even exhilarating. + +I found the granaries of Rome well stored with grain, and particularly +with Indian corn; this product requiring less art in its preparation +for food, I selected as my principal support. I now found the hardships +and lawlessness of my youth turn to account. A man cannot throw off the +habits of sixteen years. Since that age, it is true, I had lived +luxuriously, or at least surrounded by all the conveniences +civilization afforded. But before that time, I had been “as uncouth a +savage, as the wolf-bred founder of old Rome”—and now, in Rome itself, +robber and shepherd propensities, similar to those of its founder, were +of advantage to its sole inhabitant. I spent the morning riding and +shooting in the Campagna—I passed long hours in the various galleries—I +gazed at each statue, and lost myself in a reverie before many a fair +Madonna or beauteous nymph. I haunted the Vatican, and stood surrounded +by marble forms of divine beauty. Each stone deity was possessed by +sacred gladness, and the eternal fruition of love. They looked on me +with unsympathizing complacency, and often in wild accents I reproached +them for their supreme indifference—for they were human shapes, the +human form divine was manifest in each fairest limb and lineament. The +perfect moulding brought with it the idea of colour and motion; often, +half in bitter mockery, half in self-delusion, I clasped their icy +proportions, and, coming between Cupid and his Psyche’s lips, pressed +the unconceiving marble. + +I endeavoured to read. I visited the libraries of Rome. I selected a +volume, and, choosing some sequestered, shady nook, on the banks of the +Tiber, or opposite the fair temple in the Borghese Gardens, or under +the old pyramid of Cestius, I endeavoured to conceal me from myself, +and immerse myself in the subject traced on the pages before me. As if +in the same soil you plant nightshade and a myrtle tree, they will each +appropriate the mould, moisture, and air administered, for the +fostering their several properties—so did my grief find sustenance, and +power of existence, and growth, in what else had been divine manna, to +feed radiant meditation. Ah! while I streak this paper with the tale of +what my so named occupations were—while I shape the skeleton of my +days—my hand trembles—my heart pants, and my brain refuses to lend +expression, or phrase, or idea, by which to image forth the veil of +unutterable woe that clothed these bare realities. O, worn and beating +heart, may I dissect thy fibres, and tell how in each unmitigable +misery, sadness dire, repinings, and despair, existed? May I record my +many ravings—the wild curses I hurled at torturing nature—and how I +have passed days shut out from light and food—from all except the +burning hell alive in my own bosom? + +I was presented, meantime, with one other occupation, the one best +fitted to discipline my melancholy thoughts, which strayed backwards, +over many a ruin, and through many a flowery glade, even to the +mountain recess, from which in early youth I had first emerged. + +During one of my rambles through the habitations of Rome, I found +writing materials on a table in an author’s study. Parts of a +manuscript lay scattered about. It contained a learned disquisition on +the Italian language; one page an unfinished dedication to posterity, +for whose profit the writer had sifted and selected the niceties of +this harmonious language —to whose everlasting benefit he bequeathed +his labours. + +I also will write a book, I cried—for whom to read?—to whom dedicated? +And then with silly flourish (what so capricious and childish as +despair?) I wrote, + +DEDICATION +TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS DEAD. +SHADOWS, ARISE, AND READ YOUR FALL! +BEHOLD THE HISTORY OF THE +LAST MAN. + + +Yet, will not this world be re-peopled, and the children of a saved +pair of lovers, in some to me unknown and unattainable seclusion, +wandering to these prodigious relics of the ante-pestilential race, +seek to learn how beings so wondrous in their achievements, with +imaginations infinite, and powers godlike, had departed from their home +to an unknown country? + +I will write and leave in this most ancient city, this “world’s sole +monument,” a record of these things. I will leave a monument of the +existence of Verney, the Last Man. At first I thought only to speak of +plague, of death, and last, of desertion; but I lingered fondly on my +early years, and recorded with sacred zeal the virtues of my +companions. They have been with me during the fulfilment of my task. I +have brought it to an end—I lift my eyes from my paper—again they are +lost to me. Again I feel that I am alone. + +A year has passed since I have been thus occupied. The seasons have +made their wonted round, and decked this eternal city in a changeful +robe of surpassing beauty. A year has passed; and I no longer _guess_ +at my state or my prospects—loneliness is my familiar, sorrow my +inseparable companion. I have endeavoured to brave the storm—I have +endeavoured to school myself to fortitude—I have sought to imbue myself +with the lessons of wisdom. It will not do. My hair has become nearly +grey—my voice, unused now to utter sound, comes strangely on my ears. +My person, with its human powers and features, seem to me a monstrous +excrescence of nature. How express in human language a woe human being +until this hour never knew! How give intelligible expression to a pang +none but I could ever understand!— No one has entered Rome. None will +ever come. I smile bitterly at the delusion I have so long nourished, +and still more, when I reflect that I have exchanged it for another as +delusive, as false, but to which I now cling with the same fond trust. + +Winter has come again; and the gardens of Rome have lost their leaves— +the sharp air comes over the Campagna, and has driven its brute +inhabitants to take up their abode in the many dwellings of the +deserted city—frost has suspended the gushing fountains—and Trevi has +stilled her eternal music. I had made a rough calculation, aided by the +stars, by which I endeavoured to ascertain the first day of the new +year. In the old out-worn age, the Sovereign Pontiff was used to go in +solemn pomp, and mark the renewal of the year by driving a nail in the +gate of the temple of Janus. On that day I ascended St. Peter’s, and +carved on its topmost stone the aera 2100, last year of the world! + +My only companion was a dog, a shaggy fellow, half water and half +shepherd’s dog, whom I found tending sheep in the Campagna. His master +was dead, but nevertheless he continued fulfilling his duties in +expectation of his return. If a sheep strayed from the rest, he forced +it to return to the flock, and sedulously kept off every intruder. +Riding in the Campagna I had come upon his sheep-walk, and for some +time observed his repetition of lessons learned from man, now useless, +though unforgotten. His delight was excessive when he saw me. He sprung +up to my knees; he capered round and round, wagging his tail, with the +short, quick bark of pleasure: he left his fold to follow me, and from +that day has never neglected to watch by and attend on me, shewing +boisterous gratitude whenever I caressed or talked to him. His +pattering steps and mine alone were heard, when we entered the +magnificent extent of nave and aisle of St. Peter’s. We ascended the +myriad steps together, when on the summit I achieved my design, and in +rough figures noted the date of the last year. I then turned to gaze on +the country, and to take leave of Rome. I had long determined to quit +it, and I now formed the plan I would adopt for my future career, after +I had left this magnificent abode. + +A solitary being is by instinct a wanderer, and that I would become. A +hope of amelioration always attends on change of place, which would +even lighten the burthen of my life. I had been a fool to remain in +Rome all this time: Rome noted for Malaria, the famous caterer for +death. But it was still possible, that, could I visit the whole extent +of earth, I should find in some part of the wide extent a survivor. +Methought the sea-side was the most probable retreat to be chosen by +such a one. If left alone in an inland district, still they could not +continue in the spot where their last hopes had been extinguished; they +would journey on, like me, in search of a partner for their solitude, +till the watery barrier stopped their further progress. + +To that water—cause of my woes, perhaps now to be their cure, I would +betake myself. Farewell, Italy!—farewell, thou ornament of the world, +matchless Rome, the retreat of the solitary one during long months!—to +civilized life—to the settled home and succession of monotonous days, +farewell! Peril will now be mine; and I hail her as a friend—death will +perpetually cross my path, and I will meet him as a benefactor; +hardship, inclement weather, and dangerous tempests will be my sworn +mates. Ye spirits of storm, receive me! ye powers of destruction, open +wide your arms, and clasp me for ever! if a kinder power have not +decreed another end, so that after long endurance I may reap my reward, +and again feel my heart beat near the heart of another like to me. + +Tiber, the road which is spread by nature’s own hand, threading her +continent, was at my feet, and many a boat was tethered to the banks. I +would with a few books, provisions, and my dog, embark in one of these +and float down the current of the stream into the sea; and then, +keeping near land, I would coast the beauteous shores and sunny +promontories of the blue Mediterranean, pass Naples, along Calabria, +and would dare the twin perils of Scylla and Charybdis; then, with +fearless aim, (for what had I to lose?) skim ocean’s surface towards +Malta and the further Cyclades. I would avoid Constantinople, the sight +of whose well-known towers and inlets belonged to another state of +existence from my present one; I would coast Asia Minor, and Syria, +and, passing the seven-mouthed Nile, steer northward again, till losing +sight of forgotten Carthage and deserted Lybia, I should reach the +pillars of Hercules. And then—no matter where—the oozy caves, and +soundless depths of ocean may be my dwelling, before I accomplish this +long-drawn voyage, or the arrow of disease find my heart as I float +singly on the weltering Mediterranean; or, in some place I touch at, I +may find what I seek—a companion; or if this may not be—to endless +time, decrepid and grey headed—youth already in the grave with those I +love— the lone wanderer will still unfurl his sail, and clasp the +tiller—and, still obeying the breezes of heaven, for ever round another +and another promontory, anchoring in another and another bay, still +ploughing seedless ocean, leaving behind the verdant land of native +Europe, adown the tawny shore of Africa, having weathered the fierce +seas of the Cape, I may moor my worn skiff in a creek, shaded by spicy +groves of the odorous islands of the far Indian ocean. + +These are wild dreams. Yet since, now a week ago, they came on me, as I +stood on the height of St. Peter’s, they have ruled my imagination. I +have chosen my boat, and laid in my scant stores. I have selected a few +books; the principal are Homer and Shakespeare—But the libraries of the +world are thrown open to me—and in any port I can renew my stock. I +form no expectation of alteration for the better; but the monotonous +present is intolerable to me. Neither hope nor joy are my +pilots—restless despair and fierce desire of change lead me on. I long +to grapple with danger, to be excited by fear, to have some task, +however slight or voluntary, for each day’s fulfilment. I shall witness +all the variety of appearance, that the elements can assume—I shall +read fair augury in the rainbow— menace in the cloud—some lesson or +record dear to my heart in everything. Thus around the shores of +deserted earth, while the sun is high, and the moon waxes or wanes, +angels, the spirits of the dead, and the ever-open eye of the Supreme, +will behold the tiny bark, freighted with Verney—the LAST MAN. + +THE END. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST MAN *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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