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diff --git a/37930-h/37930-h.htm b/37930-h/37930-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3c4adb --- /dev/null +++ b/37930-h/37930-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13704 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Legendary and Poetical Remains of John Roby. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; } +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center; clear: both;} +p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em; } +hr {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} +.col1 {width: 30px} +.col2 {width: 5px} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} +.blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} +.center {text-align: center;} +.right {text-align: right;} +.left {text-align: left;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +.gesperrt {letter-spacing: .3em;} +.u {text-decoration: underline;} +.caption {font-weight: bold;} +.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} +.fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} +.tnotes {border: dashed 1px;} +.tnote {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} +.poem br {display: none;} +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i9 {display: block; margin-left: 9em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i16 {display: block; margin-left: 16em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i20 {display: block; margin-left: 20em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Legendary and Poetical Remains of John +Roby, by John Roby + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: The Legendary and Poetical Remains of John Roby + author of 'Traditions of Lancashire', with a sketch of his + literary life and character + +Author: John Roby + +Other: 'his widow' + +Release Date: November 5, 2011 [EBook #37930] + +Language: NU + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEGENDARY AND POETICAL *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Judith Wirawan, Linda Cantoni +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="300" height="402" alt="JOHN ROBY. From a Daguerreotype by Beard." title="" /> +<span class="caption">JOHN ROBY.<br /> +From a Daguerreotype by Beard.</span></div> + +<hr /> + + +<h5>THE</h5> + +<h1>LEGENDARY AND POETICAL REMAINS</h1> + +<h5>OF</h5> + +<h1><span class="gesperrt">JOHN ROBY,</span></h1> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF "TRADITIONS OF LANCASHIRE."</h3> + +<h5>WITH</h5> + +<h3>A SKETCH OF HIS LITERARY LIFE AND CHARACTER.</h3> + +<h3>BY HIS WIDOW.</h3> + + +<h4><br /> +LONDON:<br /> +LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS.<br /> +1854.</h4> + + + + +<hr /> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>The poetry and tales constituting the main part of the +present volume, need no apology or introduction. Most +of them were finished for publication by the author.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<p>But in reference to the biographical sketch which +precedes them, a few words will not be out of place.</p> + +<p>A life so private afforded but few materials. Incidents +of early days, tending to illustrate the bent and +development of his powers, are derived from memoranda +in Mr. Roby's own handwriting, or from well-remembered +conversations. The absence of that unconscious +self-portraiture, which a man's own letters +present, will be found supplied, to some extent, by +short reminiscences, kindly furnished by friends. The +memoir is not offered as a complete biography. It is +simply an outline of a literary life, and of a character; +the one as varied in its aspect, as the other was uniform +in its tenor. That part of the life which fell under the +writer's own observation, has of necessity been dwelt +on most at length, and she fears lest too much prominence +may at times have been given to what is +personal to herself, and the double life be thus too +strongly shown. Yet the shadow that brings out the +principal object will scarcely be censured. No one can +feel so deeply as herself the inadequacy of her talents +to the subject. To one qualification alone she may lay +claim, without fear of the charge of presumption, "that +of the seeing heart," without which it has been truly +said, "no <i>true</i> seeing for the head is so much as +possible."</p> + +<p>The writer will esteem herself happy if, with all the +imperfections of detail, she shall, in a measure, have +succeeded in her aim. That aim has been to gather up, +with a loving reverence, the scattered products of her +husband's pen, by which the reader may estimate his +powers, and to present a faithful mental portrait of one, +with whom the pursuit of literature was no bar to the +discharge of ordinary duties, and whose gifts were the +Lares and Penates of his own fireside,—one who, as +time advanced, learned the secret of self-renunciation +and spiritual obedience, and having "left this life for a +better," still, lives "in memory here," as a man of genius +and a Christian.</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 5em;">E. R. R.</span></p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 3em;">December, 1853.</span></p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="90%" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right">Page</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Biographical Sketch of John Roby</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Music.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Air from a Modern Concerto</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Shew Pity, Lord</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Lyrics.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Lines Written on the Departure of Friends from England</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Preface to a Lady's Album</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">To ——</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Stanzas</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Stanzas for Music</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Fairies' Song</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Stanzas for Music</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Stanzas for Music</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Stanzas for Music</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Stanzas</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Song</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Friend</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Lines to a Lady whom the Author had never seen</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Birch</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Astrology</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The first Revelation</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">An Evening Hymn</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Duke of Mantua</span>: A Tragedy</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Legends.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Mother Red Cap; or, the Rosicrucians</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Death Painter; or, Skeleton's Bride</span></span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Crystal Goblet</span>, a Tale of the Emperor Severus</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_339">339</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Appendix</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_375">375</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">WEEP NO MORE, WOFUL SHEPHERDS, WEEP NO MORE,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">FOR LYCIDAS YOUR SORROW IS NOT DEAD,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">SUNK THOUGH HE BE BENEATH THE WATERY FLOOR;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">SO SINKS THE DAY-STAR IN THE OCEAN BED,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">AND YET ANON REPAIRS HIS DROOPING HEAD,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">AND TRICKS HIS BEAMS, AND WITH NEW-SPANGLED ORE<br /></span> +<span class="i2">FLAMES IN THE FOREHEAD OF THE MORNING SKY;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">SO LYCIDAS SUNK LOW, BUT MOUNTED HIGH,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">THROUGH THE DEAR MIGHT OF HIM THAT WALK'D THE WAVES,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">WHERE OTHER GROVES, AND OTHER STREAMS ALONG,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">WITH NECTAR PURE HIS OOZY LOCKS HE LAVES,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">AND HEARS THE UNEXPRESSIVE NUPTIAL SONG,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">IN THE BLEST KINGDOMS MEEK OF JOY AND LOVE.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">THERE ENTERTAIN HIM ALL THE SAINTS ABOVE,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">IN SOLEMN TROOPS AND SWEET SOCIETIES,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">THAT SING, AND SINGING IN THEIR GLORY MOVE,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">AND WIPE THE TEARS FOR EVER FROM HIS EYES.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">MILTON.<br /></span></div></div> + + +<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h2>SKETCH</h2> + +<h5>OF</h5> + +<h2>THE LITERARY LIFE AND CHARACTER</h2> + +<h5>OF</h5> + +<h2><span class="gesperrt">JOHN ROBY.</span></h2> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<h2>SKETCH,</h2> + +<h5>&c, &c.</h5> + + +<p>When an author's name is chiefly known by a work +connected with any particular locality, our natural expectations +are gratified in finding that personal or +family associations drew his attention to the subject. +This was the case with the author of "The Traditions +of Lancashire." Born in a neighbourhood where the +faint legends of the olden time were yet floating, he +himself belonged to the district whose memorials he +perpetuated. He was attached to his native county, +proud of her wild scenery, of her old historic associations, +and of the energetic, well-defined character of +her sons. His family name was not unknown in her +annals. One of his ancestors, Captain Roby, who was +born in an old mansion, long since pulled down, in the +township of Roby, near Liverpool, was distinguished +by his courage and gallant conduct during the civil +wars of the seventeenth century, at the time when the +north was the scene of operations.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John Roby</span> was born at Wigan, the 5th of January<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +1793. From his father, <span class="smcap">Nehemiah Roby</span>, who was +for many years master of the grammar-school at Haigh, +he inherited a fine constitution and unbending principles +of honour and integrity. From the family of his +mother, <span class="smcap">Mary Aspull</span>, he derived the quick impressible +temperament of genius and that love of humour +which so conspicuously marks the Lancashire character.</p> + +<p>Destitute of home companions of his own age, being +by many years the youngest of the family, he often +suffered from an oppressive sense of loneliness. One +of his strongest characteristics was an intense yearning +for sympathy, however concealed in after-life, from the +general eye, by the exuberance of his natural spirits. +This led him to seek companionship with inanimate +things, which he invested with a sympathetic existence. +A reflected light proceeding from the surface of water +in a butt at the back of the house, which frequently +played on the upper wall of the staircase, was one of +these friendly objects. Ignorant of the cause, he would +watch for its coming, and sit for hours in communion +with the strange and beautiful appearance. It was to +him a fair and mysterious visitant, who came in pure +benevolence to cheer his solitude. Indicative of the +dramatic bent of his mind was another of his resources. +He was accustomed to cut out little paper figures of +men and women, which he would carry to bed and +place under his pillow. As soon as the light was +withdrawn he delighted himself in conversations with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +his paper friends, losing his sense of loneliness in their +ideal companionship.</p> + +<p>Another thing contributed to deepen his unsatisfied +longing for sympathy. His father revered the sterner +virtues, and sacrificed to them whatever he apprehended +might tend to enervate his son's character. In conformity +with this theory of training, even the maternal +kiss was forbidden. Only once did he remember +feeling the soft pressure of his mother's lips on his +cheek, though frequently and fervently did he long to +feel it again. In after-life, even down to its close, when +rejoicing in the sunshine of confiding and playful affection, +he would refer with tears in his eyes to the lonely +and unfondled years of childhood. For the sake of both, +deeply was it to be regretted, that a mother's love of +her latest born, one of the strongest of human affections, +should be denied its natural expression, repressed as a +duty, till it was subdued and its very existence scarcely +suspected.</p> + +<p>His thirst for knowledge was early and strongly +manifested. If his inquiries were neglected or evaded, +he would insist on an intelligible reply. Having been +once told, not to be so inquisitive, "'Inquisitive' wants +to know" was ever after his form of urgent appeal. +Characteristic of this disposition was an incident which +occurred when he was a child in petticoats. One fine +afternoon 'Inquisitive' was seated in a low chair by his +mother's side, conning his lesson. He loved not a task +from which he gained no idea; the spelling of <i>t-h-e</i>, <i>the</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +<i>f-o-r</i>, <i>for</i>, was wearisome, and, as an expedient to rid +himself of it, he feigned sleep: his father entering the +room remarked, "John is asleep: this warm afternoon +has made him drowsy." The mother knew the pranks +of childhood, and quietly replied, "He is only sleeping +dog's sleep." There was a new idea: up started the +little head in a moment with the inquiry, "What is +dog's sleep, mother?" Even at that early age, when a +question suggested itself, he could not rest till he had +arrived at a satisfactory answer; often and long would +he ponder over some little thing that puzzled him, and +on which he could gain no information from others beyond +the unsatisfactory reply "Why, <i>so it is</i>."</p> + +<p>As he grew up into boyhood surrounded by objects +to which tradition had assigned her marvellous stories, +they sank silently into his companionless and sensitive +spirit. In his immediate vicinity were Haigh Hall, +and Mab's Cross, the scenes of Lady Mabel's sufferings +and penance—the subject of one of his earliest tales. +Almost within sight of the windows through which, +with the dreamy gaze of childhood, he first looked on +earth and sky, lay the fine range of hills of which +Rivington Pike is a spur. Never will be forgotten the +pleasure with which, fifty years afterwards, during the +last summer of his life, when travelling past that neighbourhood, +he pointed out the roof and chimneys of his +birthplace, the well-remembered hills as they lay with +the beautiful light of the afternoon sun upon them, +Hoghton Tower crowning its woody steep, and other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +spots at once the haunts of early days and the scenes +of the legends he afterwards so beautifully re-imbodied.</p> + +<p>His various talents were very early called forth. +While yet a child he was accustomed, at first occasionally, +and then regularly, to take the organ at the +Countess of Huntingdon's Chapel, Wigan, during the +Sunday service. His ear was exquisitely true, and his +voice also excellent; but, used too freely at the period +of its change, it never afterwards fully regained its +tone.</p> + +<p>His first attempt at drawing was made when he was +a very little fellow. A lady with whom he was a +special favourite—Miss Leigh, sister of the late Sir +Robert Holt Leigh—had one day, to his great delight, +been showing him some sketches, when, after he had +looked at them, she placed the drawing of a cow before +him, saying,</p> + +<p>"Now cannot you draw that cow?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! I never did such a thing," was his reply;</p> + +<p>"Try," her wise rejoinder.</p> + +<p>With some persuasion the volatile child was induced +to attempt the task. The pencil was poised—his +attention concentrated on the subject—his hand began +to follow the eye, and with oft-repeated delight he +beheld the form grow rapidly under his touch; so that +whether his teacher or himself was the more pleased, it +would be difficult to say. This was a precious lesson +to him, which he did not forget. It was so firmly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +rooted, that, in after-life, he never doubted success in +anything he thought proper to attempt. Years after, +in 1849, when writing to a friend whom he wished to +encourage to mental effort, he referred to this time, when +the little word "Try" was the "Open Sesame" of the +"Arabian Nights" to him.</p> + +<p>He cared little for ordinary companions, never so +happy as when he could steal away from them, into the +company of such of the other sex as were much older +than himself, and listen for hours to song and music. +He always considered he was more indebted for the +formation of his habits and the development of his +character and talents, as in the instance above, to +woman's discriminating encouragement, than to anything +else; and, for weal or for woe, hers was +an influence to which he was ever peculiarly sensitive.</p> + +<p>The education he received appears to have been +rather desultory. The dry and spiritless mode of conveying +instruction in those days had neither attractions +for his taste, nor power over his mind. As he advanced +into youth, and "macadamised his own road," various +branches of the natural sciences, history, antiquities, +and the fine arts, nearly absorbed his attention. A +course of mathematical study would probably have been +the best discipline for him at this time, as a balance to +the spontaneous development of his imagination. He +afterwards pursued it with great enjoyment, though to +no considerable extent; and, late in life, he proposed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +resumption of the study to the companion of his pursuits—one +of the many plans so suddenly and so +mournfully cut short.</p> + +<p>When he entered on life, and the duties of his profession, +that of a banker, early left him master of many +leisure hours, the use of the pencil was a favourite recreation. +His artistic perceptions must have been very +early developed. He was acquainted with a gentleman +a professed virtuoso, and a collector of those fine old +drawings and sketches which are the first rough thoughts +of the painter, or the playful offspring of his lighter +moments. In an unpublished MS. he thus describes +in the third person his own first introduction to the +beauties of the old masters:—</p> + +<p>"A new faculty seemed dawning upon him. He felt +their glorious power exalting, refining, the sense by the +wondrous potency of art; rendering the forms and hues +seen by the imagination visible to the bodily as to the +mental eye; and expressing in a tangible shape what +had before existed only in the hidden recesses of the +soul. He saw for the first time a few of the random +sketches, the first bright thoughts of these great men, +struck out like sparks from the glowing embers of fancy. +The fire and freedom of such rude scratches were +pointed out; and he could see with a painter's eye the +beauty of a line, the combination and the arrangement, +the first shadowy thoughts of the artist emerging from +chaos into form." That he possessed even then, to a +considerable extent, the artist's power as well as his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +perception, may be inferred from an anecdote of those +days which forms the conclusion of the passage:—</p> + +<p>"The professor of <i>vertu</i> was expatiating one day, to +a group of bystanders, on the merits of some little gem +of a drawing he had just purchased. He pointed out +the beauties with great gusto, fully impressing his +auditory with a sense of the profound knowledge and +superiority of his own discrimination. The novice +leaned over, and, young as he was, enjoyed the dissertation +vastly. In a while he ventured to make a remark: +the man of art turned round, and with a look of +contempt, intended to extinguish the youthful aspirant, +said, 'We don't allow you to be a judge, sir.' Abashed, +he shrank back; but the wound rankled, and he determined +to have lusty revenge. He sketched on paper, +with great freedom and carelessness, the subject of an +old etching, imitating as nearly as possible the style he +had previously seen. By the judicious application of +tobacco-juice, soot, bistre, ochre, and a little grease, so +as to make the picture a perfect pattern of dirt,—a +rent, a puncture, a piecing here and there, to show the +care with which it had been preserved,—he succeeded +in making, as he thought, a tolerable imitation, and with +great glee gallanted off the prize to his preceptor. The +connoisseur at once pronounced the few bold strokes, +every one of which 'told,' to be those of a master; and +his pupil had much difficulty in evading his inquiries, as +to where he had met with it, and whether there were +any more to be had." His success was complete; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +neither love of triumph, nor gratified vanity, tempted +him to divulge the secret, and thereby mortify his +acquaintance: he was satisfied with the result of the +experiment, nor did he ever after repeat it.</p> + +<p>His first attempt at composition was called forth by +a friend, who put into his hand a copy of a periodical +which, at that time, offered prizes for the best essays on +prescribed subjects, to be sent in by young persons +under a specified age. It was suggested to him, that +he should take one of the subjects, and see what he +could make of it. He at first hesitated; but, recalling +the magic power of the little word "<span class="smcap">Try</span>," he sat down +to the task, and composed an essay:—"To show what +obligations parents and children are under to tutors +and governesses, and how far it is their duty, from +gratitude and interest, to behave towards them with +friendship and respect." It was considered worthy of +the prize, as appears from a copy of Blair's Class-book,—in +the fly-leaves of which the essay is preserved,—bearing +in the customary gilt letters the inscription,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"PRESENTED TO MASTER JOHN ROBY, AGED FIFTEEN.<br /></span> +<span class="i7">A REWARD OF MERIT."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now fairly aware of his powers, to the pleasures of +the pencil were added those of the pen. As might be +expected, Poetry, Essay, Tale, were all tried, read at +first to juvenile companions, as extracts he had met +with. Why should early authorship, like early love, be +a thing we shrink from avowing, even to the nearest of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +our friends? It is because, when we write truthfully +and earnestly, we lay bare our very soul; and the +avowal in this, as in the other case, becomes an +exposure of one's inner self.</p> + +<p>Debating and Philosophical societies ere long attracted +him, and he evidently exerted a leading influence +on his companions. He took a prominent part in +their projects and reunions. "Sucking in knowledge +like a sponge," as he afterwards said, he was as ready +to impart it. A silver snuff-box,—still prized as a +relic of his eighteenth or nineteenth year,—bearing the +following inscription,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"THE GIFT OF THE PHILOSOPHIC SOCIETY, WIGAN,<br /></span> +<span class="i9">TO THEIR<br /></span> +<span class="i1">ESTEEMED LECTURER AND WORTHY MEMBER,<br /></span> +<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Mr.</span> J. ROBY,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>attests the nature of his early pursuits, and the +estimation in which he was then held by his associates.</p> + +<p>The local press was another channel for the exercise +of his talents; and it appears by a letter from the editor +of the "Chester Courant," preserved with other relics of +early days, that some of his contributions to the paper, +during a short residence in that city, attracted the +notice of the London papers, and were copied into their +columns,—a fact on which the worthy editor rather +prided himself, while he congratulated his unknown +correspondent. From a memorandum book in handwriting +of an early date, containing "Subjects for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +Consideration," we transcribe one page to indicate +favourite directions of thought:—</p> + +<p>"The oxydation of metals, by passing the electric +spark through them.</p> + +<p>"The faculty which the eye possesses of accommodating +its focal distance to objects placed at different +distances.</p> + +<p>"The sound which proceeds from the shock of the +particles of the air, against those of water in motion. +Vide Thomson's Ann. Phil. p. 187.</p> + +<p>"Fresh-discovered property of the syphon."</p> + +<p>He had now found, in part at least, that companionship +and sympathy for which he had so earnestly longed, +and his spirit gave itself up to delighted converse with +its fellows, and to the pursuits of literature and art:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All the glowing future, one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wide atmosphere of light."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>His preference even from childhood of cultivated +female society, while his reverence for woman and his +standard of her excellence were equally high, also contributed +to keep the tone of his mind pure and his life +stainless. The dawn of existence thus brightened into +the full morning of youth: and if those who now fondly +look back upon him with affection and pride, may bless +<span class="smcap">God</span> for such a youth, it is owing, under His blessing, +to the love of art, knowledge, and woman's intelligent +society.</p> + +<p>Yet his own estimate of his character at that period<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +should not be lost sight of. When referring to this +time, in terms of thankfulness for having been kept +from outward evil, he ever owned that as yet he was +without the guidance of the true Christian principle—love +to <span class="smcap">God</span>; "that 'the light of the glorious Gospel,' +which alone is the true 'lamp unto our path,' had not +yet shone into his spirit. <i>He lived only to himself</i>; and +though, soaring through natural bias to loftier pursuits, +thus kept from the grovelling propensities of youth, yet, +in a religious point of view, <i>his heart</i> was, equally with +that of others, the barren wilderness, <i>destitute of fruit to +the glory of Him who created it</i>, and who demands our +'heart, and soul, and strength,' in His service." So +judged a mature self-knowledge, on looking back to the +first years of manhood. Were introspection always as +faithful, might not the same conclusion be oftener +reached?</p> + +<p>Hitherto the little bark had sped with no cross wind, +no disturbing current, no shadow on her sail. Love +came: still life's glad waters were unruffled—all sunshine +and repose. But the storm soon gathered, and +life's first romance was destined to close in gloom. It +will be readily supposed, that, with the impassioned +temperament of genius, he gave himself up without +reserve to the power of a <i>first-love</i>; and, with the +adhesiveness which Phrenology so largely assigned to +him, the permanence of his attachment promised to +equal its intensity. For a time, "the course of true +love," <i>did</i> "run smooth;" but at length a coldness he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +could not account for, but which had for some time +pained him, led on his part to remonstrance. It was +resented, and the interview ended in mutual displeasure. +Riding home,—not in the happiest mood,—his horse +stumbled and threw him. For a few days he lay, +unable to travel, in a house near the spot where he had +been thrown. Humbler and wiser thoughts prevailed; +and the first use he made of his recovered power of +moving, was to return and seek another interview. +Reconciliation followed, and he left happy and reassured. +But, the evening after his arrival at home, a +short, cold, and haughty epistle, brought him by private +hand, forbade his future visits. Stung to the quick by +what appeared heartlessness, if not duplicity, he resolved +to forget his idol for ever; and looked around for a +worthier object in whose affection he might lose his +sense of injury and regret. It was not till his faith was +plighted to another that he discovered the <i>undated</i> +note was written previously to his last visit, shortly +after their angry parting, but owing to his absence from +home not sooner delivered. Honour forbade any +allusion to this circumstance to the object of the second +attachment, to whom he considered himself sacredly +engaged, but the blow struck home. A severe illness, +during which his life was despaired of, supervened; and, +though an elastic nature recovered, it still retained +traces of this "maddening misery." More than thirty +years afterwards he could not refer to these passages +of his history without a shudder, and intense, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +controlled, feeling. Some peculiarities referable to this +source remained through life. Henceforth a discord +ran through all the melodies of existence, and ever and +anon reproduced itself in the creations of imagination.</p> + +<p>Mr. Roby first appeared before the world as a poet. +In 1815 he published "Sir Bertram, a poem in six +cantos." Elegant and melodious versification, exquisite +word-painting, and a marked tendency to the use of the +supernatural, are its chief characteristics. Though not +published before, there is every reason to believe it was +composed some time previously, during the happy +season of hopeful, if not formally requited, love. Here +are no traces to be found of that one sorrow. It was +the pouring forth of song from a poetic spirit, that as +yet knew not the power of the minor key. Another +poem quickly followed, entitled "Lorenzo, a tale of +Redemption." It met with a limited sale: the versification +was heavy, unlike anything else he ever wrote, +and the subject was unsuited to his powers. The now +venerable poet Montgomery, who had just published +his own "Greenland," gave the young author the +benefit of his judicious criticism, a kindness difficult to +perform; but, judging by a letter from him of the date +of July, 1817, he knew well how to combine candour and +courtesy. The subsequent productions of his disciple +proved that his valuable suggestions were not thrown +away.</p> + +<p>In 1816 Mr. Roby married Ann, the youngest +daughter of James and Dorothy Bealey, of Derrikens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +near Blackburn. Of her many excellencies he ever +spoke in the highest terms, and she must have been, +from the testimony of all who had the pleasure of +knowing her, as well as from that of her husband, one +of the best and gentlest of women, the most affectionate +and anxious of mothers. They had nine children, three +of whom died in their infancy.</p> + +<p>"The Duke of Mantua," a tragedy, which appeared +in 1823, was Mr. Roby's next publication. It went +through three or four editions in a short time, and was +pronounced by the critics, "worthy of a place among +our best closet plays." It has been long out of print, +and is included in the present volume.</p> + +<p>In the course of the summer, he made an excursion +in Scotland. He visited "the bonnie braes of +Yarrow," in company with Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd. +His account of the day so pleasantly spent, is a +good specimen of his early prose style:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I went with Hogg the other morning on a '<i>Voyage +pittoresque</i>' up the Yarrow. It was a delicious Claude-looking +day—the sky filled with a warm hazy brightness. +Every cloud stole as softly up the firmament, as if some +creature 'of the immaterial air' melting into the blue ether. +None of those sudden lights—those breaks through a hard +and almost impenetrable pile of clouds—an Apennine or Andes +poised in the middle air, dividing the landscape into vast +enclosures—masses of shadow, deep, awful, and abrupt—or +moving patches, of a wild and unnatural brightness.</p> + +<p>"We set out from Selkirk pretty early, intending to +reach St. Mary's before noon. We loitered lazily up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +stream, imbibing the keen freshness of the morning. The +mists were just rolling from the green hills, when, on +passing the bridge, we turned to our left, entering upon the +beautiful road, leading through the Duke of Buccleugh's +grounds, to Altrieve and St. Mary's Loch. The Yarrow and +the Ettrick unite about two miles above Selkirk. Following +the course of the former, we soon spied the ruins of Newark +Castle, the scene of Sir Walter's 'Lay of the Last Minstrel.' +It is a massive square tower, now unroofed, surrounded by +an outward wall, and defended by round flanking turrets. +During the minority of the present Duke, the castle was +dilapidated; the wooden beams, and such stones as could +be removed, were employed in building a miserable farm-house +in its vicinity.</p> + +<p>"I felt wishful to obtain a closer inspection of this fine +old specimen of border antiquity; more especially on learning +that Mungo Park—born at Foulshiels, a small farm within +a stone's throw of the castle—had left his autograph somewhere +within its walls. We soon procured admittance, and +on climbing the ruined staircase, entered a large roofless +apartment on the second story, where, sure enough, we +found, without much trouble, the name of our enterprising, +but unfortunate, countryman, written, two or three times, in +a large clerk-like hand with <i>red chalk</i>. Hogg seemed as +well pleased as if he had found a 'poss,' and rummaged his +galligaskins for a hideous bit of scrawl, that he had several +times brought forth from its dark den, during our journey, +when any thing particularly inspiring had urged its momentary +liberation. A poem perhaps, another exquisite 'Kilmeny' +or 'Mary Lee' in embryo, undergoing its appointed +period of incubation. I made no inquiries, but continued +undisturbed in the great business of exploration. In a +short time I heard him bundling down the steps, to take a +morning's gossip with the keeper. It was not long ere I +found myself amply repaid for any sense of deprivation I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +might have endured, by discovering another flourish with +the identical red chalk, and evidently by the same hand. +It was a stanza—four lines of poetry by Mungo Park!—If +thou hast any touch of feeling—any mark of kindred—any +spark of rarer sympathy—imagine, if thou canst, my +delight,—the fervour, the intensity of my rapture. They +fixed indelibly, and almost involuntarily on my memory;—there +they now exist, and probably will continue until every +faculty, every function, be obliterated.</p> + +<p>"The following is a true copy, spelling and all. The +orthography of poor Park was not of the purest kind:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Within these walls where obscene birds of night<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whistle and shriek alternate round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft music <i>floted</i> once, whilst with delight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The distant shepherd caught the dying sound.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I do not think they show marks of quotation. I hope +and believe they are original; at least, I am pretty certain +they have not before been noticed.</p> + +<p>"I soon roused the skulkers: a vigorous hurrah was the +first intimation they had of the enemy being so near their +camp. Bang went the first door I came to, and there I +found my friend and his, cantie over a cup of the best +mountain, and deep in the heart of a thrifty controversy +about sheep, their ailments and cures. It was 'an awfu +downcome; they stared at each other without perfectly understanding +the nature of my announcement. On a repetition, +'Eh, Mr. Bogle, but ye're gone clean blate,' was the +rejoinder, 'Ha' ye seen a ghaist!' With some difficulty I +made them reluctantly comprehend two very important +matters, to wit, my meaning, and a request that they would +give me their sweet company awhile. But how they did +shout, and rub their sleeves at the discovery; we looked as +funny at one another as three ambassadors at a congress.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +It was as good as the development of a state secret. The +best of it is, that it will be a little fortune to the keeper, +and a dowry to his weans. Henceforth pilgrimages will +be made to the shrine, vieing with Loch Katrine and the +pass of Aberfoil in the number of its votaries and the +ardour of its worshippers.</p> + +<p>"We bade good bye to Newark, and awa' up the braes o' +Yarrow, shouting and laughing with the wild echoes of the +flood, to the great dismay of sundry bare-legged Naiads and +goddesses, peeping ever and anon through 'covert green and +woodland dell.'</p> + +<p>"My companion had to make a call at his tailor's, who +inhabits the low house nigh to the Ford.—A very strange +personage this, but of an infinite humour, and pomposity of +demeanor.</p> + +<p>"It was the very man whom Blackwood accused in one +of his 'magi,' of regularly buying two copies of that work, +and reading both, from beginning to end, imagining them +to be diverse and distinct from each other. He was +mightily affronted at this insinuation, and duly wrote, and +concocted a letter;—such a curiosity as was never before +seen, since the world whistled. I recollect being indulged +with a sight of it in the 'back-shop.' He utterly disclaimed +taking two copies of the magazine, under any such erroneous +impression. The true reason was, that wife and bairns had +such an 'ettling for the beuk' that he had no comfort on +the occasion, and was often obliged to run for it—to creep +behind a stone dike or into a hedge bottom, in the hope of +getting free from their importunities, and even then he was +in no wise safe from interruption,—some kind neighbour +or another would scent him out, and be 'aye licken his +fingers frae the dish.' Taking two copies set all to rights, +and each party enjoyed their meal in peace. He was dreadfully +puzzled about the different 'Horæ' scattered through +the numbers, and consulted the minister about their reference<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +to certain matters then abroad, but to which he thought +no decent respectable publication, like Blackwood, should +have alluded.</p> + +<p>"We journeyed on to Altrieve, where Hogg has a quiet +domicile within sight of St. Mary's banks, and Dryhope +tower, where 'the flower of Yarrow lived and died.' It +was high dinner hour when we arrived. A hearty welcome—a +dish of boiled trout fresh from the Lake, and et ceteras +<i>ad lib.</i>, gave a <i>gout</i> and a relish to the succeeding conceptions +and concoctions, over which Mrs. Hogg presided,—while +the exhilarating influence of high animal spirits, and +a 'wee drappie' of the elixir of the mountain, threw a vivid +hue and a glowing atmosphere around every theme on which +we dilated.</p> + +<p>"Hogg is a kind-hearted creature, a man of the rarest +genius, compounded out of the most heterogeneous elements, +as if nature in one of her freaks had determined to evince +the omnipotence of her power, over the most untractable, +and unpromising materials,—to mould even the stubborn, +and unyielding forms over which she broods, into combinations +of the most exquisite symmetry, and delicacy of +texture.</p> + +<p>"I reckon Hogg's achievements on a par with the most +wonderful records of human capability extant. A shepherd's +boy, as uncouth and ungifted as any of his tribe—apparently +without a glimmer, or an idea of the beautiful or sublime, any +further than as it might have relation to a dry bed and a +comfortable meal—scarcely able to write his name at a very +advanced period of growth. Now he blazes forth, a bright +intelligence amongst the lights of the age. Really his works +deserve to form part and parcel of our national literature, +at once a monument to his glory and an inextinguishable +record of the operations of that genius, who setteth no +bounds to her habitation, nor suffereth control."</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>The literary leisure of the next six years was occupied +in collecting materials for the Traditions of Lancashire, +and by the creative power of imagination, weaving +them into tales of romantic interest. Mr. Roby received +the most courteous assistance from several of the representatives +of the noble houses, whose early history +he elucidated; particularly from the Earl and late +Countess of Crawford and Balcarres, and also from the +late Earl of Derby (1853).</p> + +<p>The commencement of the year 1827 was marked by +one of those home events, which, though nothing to the +world, make sad change in the fire-side circle. Mr. +Roby's second boy, named after his brother, the late Rev. +William Roby, of Manchester, was at this time about +three years of age. Possessed of unusual loveliness and +remarkable sensibility for so young a child, he had won +upon his parents' hearts, and on that of his father to a +remarkable degree. The moment he entered the house, +he would call for his darling boy, and place him on his +knee at the piano, while the little listener, if not interrupted, +would remain for hours rapt in delight. He +could not be happy while the child was out of his sight. +After a very brief illness, this beautiful boy was called +away from the world. His father's heart was wrung, +long did he mourn him; and he never dared again to +love a child with such idolatry. An infant, a few +months' old, had before been laid in the family grave, +and on the stone covering their remains, Mr. Roby had +the following lines engraven:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Farewell sweet babes! Upon a mother's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ye pass'd life's hour of fretfulness and pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death bids you on his colder bosom rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Herald of bliss;—unutterable gain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His touch was life!—in robes of triumph drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sinless and spotless now—a Saviour's death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fountain opened—washed from every stain<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each spirit, ere its last faint quivering breath—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As o'er its eyeballs burst eternal day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Left its first cherub smile to linger on its clay."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A third infant was laid beside them in 1832, and there +now repose <i>his own</i> loved and most precious remains, +and to these last, as to those for whom they were +originally intended, may the closing lines be applied. +The smile last seen on that beloved face is one with which +it may well awake on the morning of the resurrection.</p> + +<p>Mr. Roby visited the English Lakes that year. A +manuscript book of notes and sketches remains, and +both pen and pencil attest the quickness and correctness +of the observer. On ordinary objects he looked with +an eye practised in gaining general information, and on +Nature with that of the artist. In looking over the +sketches one cannot but remark how very little change +years have made in that district. Not only the majestic +objects of Nature, the accessories of man's placing also, +stood then precisely as they do now. The Druid's +Circle near Keswick seems the only exception; the +fir trees which then waved their dark branches above +the grey stones are gone. Grange, reposing at the foot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +of Borrowdale, with its beautiful bridge, dark clear +stream, and everlasting mountains a close back-ground. +The Bowder stone<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a>, its ladder and cottage, and the +sharply-defined perpendicular strata rising above all, +are unchanged. The sketches of a quarter of a century +ago might be those of last year. The very buildings +seem identically the same in every part. Nature +stamped them picturesque as they were set down in her +sacred recesses, and they have not dared to throw off +the spell. A few extracts from the note-book will +exemplify the style of observation. The aspect of the +district; the manners of its inhabitants; individual +peculiarities whatever of men or things; natural productions, +and above all, the ever-varying forms of +beauty, with which nature in such a region clothes +herself,—none of these escaped his observant and +admiring eye.</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 8em;">"Kendal, Aug. 21. 1827.</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dialect. Kendal mode of calling a person up, '<i>Shoot +on him</i> there.' First view of Windermere. Writing on Inn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +Windows—This perishable and frail tablet more durable +than man's existence. Mountains—The same outline, the +same aspect has met the eye of man for thousands of years.... +On the Lake—View from the north side of Curwen's +Island, light and shadow disposed as if according to art—broad +lights upon the rich colours. Corn-fields &c. near—summits +of hills dark blue, cutting against the sky, angular +and sharp. Island follows the universal law—north by west, +rugged and mountainous; south, undulating and flat."</p> + +<p>Grasmere was at that time the abode of the gifted and +excentric Hartley Coleridge. He was standing at Jonathan's +door when the tourists drove up. They soon made acquaintance +with him, and it was not long ere they were deep in +discussion on the subject of Kant's Philosophy, the Rosicrucian +System, &c. &c.</p> + +<p>"The repose of Grasmere; pleasures of retirement. No +pleasure but to those who possess an innate repose and a +mind full of susceptibilities for these beautiful impressions. +The bold dragoon and his wife, who took a house here +about three months since, for seven years,—are now heartily +tired of it. Confounding of phrases—to say a man <i>is</i> a +genius, great mistake—rather say a man <i>has</i> genius, or +rather genius has <i>him</i>. Often disappointed in our approach +to 'reputed geniuses.' A clever man not always a man of +genius. Idiom and dialect diffused over a man's very form +and face, habits, and character. Tone of voice acquired by +contact. Strong voices of the females generally in the north. +Quite a literary air about Grasmere. Proof sheets lying +about the public-house. Hartley Coleridge engaged in +writing the article 'Poetry' in the 'Encyclopedia Metropolitana.'" +The notice of Grasmere concludes with a then unpublished +song by H. Coleridge—"'I have lived, and I have +loved,'" with the autograph of the Poet.</p> + +<p>"Keswick Lake. Sun-set. Colour of the mountains<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +blue, a band between the fiery sky, and the fiery reflection +in the lake. Cloudy morning. Skiddaw still has his night-cap +on. Clearing towards seven, determine to mount. Pass +Skiddaw's cub, Latrigg. Hills tumbled about in great disorder, +compared to a large painted sheet of canvass thrown +down horizontally and propped up in different places underneath +with pointed sticks of various lengths. Eye soon +accustoming itself to the size of objects thereby diminishing +their bulk to its own previous conceptions. Every now +and then obliged to find an object, of a known size, in order +to feel the vast dimensions of these objects of unknown magnitude.... +Gaining the summit, an envious cloud sweeping +round the hill. Double echoes apparently from grouse +shooters. Cloud rapidly approaches, falls between us and +the distant prospect like a curtain. Completely enveloped. +Sit down wrapped in my cloak under the lee-side of a huge +heap of stones, and wait in expectation of the cloud clearing +off for nearly an hour. Quietly read 'Otley's Guide,' Geology +of the Mountains. Symptoms of a break in the cloud, +mist still continues. Guide relates the dangers and perils of +ascents and descents in a mist, even to those well acquainted +with the path.... During these amusing and exhilarating +narratives the mist breaks in partial openings—Wonderful +bursts of prospect through the clouds. Solway Frith—the +Sea—Wigton, Cockermouth, Bassenthwaite Lake. A +vessel on the Solway, by telescope, a brig.</p> + +<p>"Hermitage near Derwentwater Lake. Major Pocklington +built and endowed it for any person who would live +there in entire seclusion, locked up for seven years; after +this apprenticeship he might, if he thought proper, have his +liberty, and an annuity of 100<i>l.</i> a year. No one has yet +been found to fulfil this engagement, and the place built +twenty or thirty years ago.</p> + +<p>"Borrowdale. Lead mine on very steep hill. Gryphite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +lies in sops. Old levels worked out. At fault; cannot yet +find any; trying near the summit of the hill. Immense +productiveness at times. Supposed to have been once in a +state of fusion. Evident marks of this. No date of its +discovery. Tradition tells us, that a tree being blown down +bared the first vein. Used for marking sheep only in all +probability at the first. Maps of the county might be +printed on pocket-handkerchiefs. Dine at Rossthwaite: +another party arrive, folly of not being content with what +the house affords....</p> + +<p>"Patterdale. Met a young sheep dog.—One leg tied up +to prevent his scampering after the sheep too far—dog +education; not beat young dogs, it breaks their spirits and +spoils them. May this hint apply to the education of two-legged +cubs? Beautiful and fertile valleys running up into +so many gorges of the mountains.... Musty egg at breakfast. +Irishman swearing not a hen in all England that +laid fresh eggs.... Kirkstone pass. Savage sublimity +of the road. Kirkstone like the gable end of a house +peeping above. Saxifraga Nivalis.... High moor between +the lakes and Kendal. Grand view of Langdale Pikes +twenty miles off, like immense buttresses or towers, supporting +a long line of rocks." Of all the beautiful objects +in that district none excited Mr. Roby's admiration as those +two magnificent rocks. His enthusiasm for them was unbounded.</p></div> + +<p>The first series of the Traditions of Lancashire appeared +in 1829, in two volumes, illustrated by plates +engraved by Finden, from drawings by Pickering; and +wood-cuts by Williams, after designs by Frank Howard. +The matter, the embellishments, and the spirited publishers, +Messrs Longman and Co., were alike worthy of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +each other. The reception of the work equalled +Mr. Roby's most sanguine expectations; for though the +price, demy 8vo., 2<i>l.</i> 2<i>s.</i>, royal 8vo., with proofs and +etchings, 4<i>l.</i> 4<i>s.</i>, made it rather a book for a gentleman's +library than for general circulation, a second edition was +called for within twelve months. The following note +from Sir Francis Palgrave, no incompetent judge, was +a gratifying estimate of the work as forming part of our +national literature:—</p> + +<p class="right"><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 8em;">"26, Duke-street, Westminster,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 8em;">26th October, 1829.</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Sir,</p> + +<p>"I am greatly obliged to you for the very interesting +volumes which you have had the kindness to send me.</p> + +<p>"As compositions, the extreme beauty of your style, and +the skill which you have shown in working up the rude materials, +must entitle them to the highest rank in the class of +works to which they belong.</p> + +<p>"Are there any peculiar traditions in or about Cartmel, +where, as you probably know, the Britons continued till a +comparatively late period? You have made such a valuable +addition, not only to English literature, but to English +topography by your collection—for these popular traditions +form, or ought to form, an important feature in topographical +history—that it is to be hoped you will not stop with the +present volumes.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">"I have the honor to remain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Sir,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">With great respect,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">Your obedient and faithful servant,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">"<span class="smcap">Francis Palgrave</span>."</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span><br /></p> + +<p>The second series, consisting also of two volumes, +uniform with the first, was published in 1831, and met +with similar success. Both series were reviewed in the +most cordial manner by the leading periodicals of the +day; more than once quoted, and characterized by Sir +Walter Scott, himself a host, as an elegant work. (<i>See +Introduction to the Betrothed.</i>)</p> + +<p>When composing, Mr. Roby usually wrote with his +family around him; the only restraint he laid upon +them, was the prohibition of whispering; from conversation +carried on in the ordinary tone he could +wholly abstract himself. Seated in a favourite rocking-chair, +that common northern luxury, wrapped in a loose +study-gown, he wrote for hours with rapidity and +pleasure. When invention flagged, and he had to seek +an idea, he would fold his arms, and gently rock for a +few minutes, then with the air of a person who had +found what he sought, return to the page with renewed +spirit. Though undisturbed by familiar sounds, which, +indeed, he appeared not to perceive, so completely was +he absorbed in his ideal world, he yet required all +things in order around him before he commenced; +objects indiscriminately scattered conveying disturbance +through the eye, or even an open door, would so +effectually dissipate his thoughts, as to prevent him +from writing. His practice was to make himself master +of the historical ground-work of the tale, and as far as +possible of the manners and customs of the period, and +then to commence composition, with Fosbroke's "Encyclopedia<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +of Antiquities" at hand, for accuracy of +costume, &c. He always gave the credit of his style, +which the Westminster Review termed "a very model +of good Saxon," to his native country, the force and +energy of whose dialect arises mainly from the prevalence +of the Teutonic element. "The thought digs out the +word," was a favourite saying, when the exact expression +he wanted did not at once occur. To his fine ear for +musical sound he was much indebted for the flowing +ease of his diction.</p> + +<p>Though constituting what is denominated light +literature, much careful research was required in the +composition of the tales. The aspect of the country +in those distant times, the costume and customs of the +day, were particulars in which he was scrupulously +exact. To secure this truthfulness of detail, long +investigations were often needed, even where perhaps +they would be little suspected: but always confident +that he should succeed at last, he spared no pains in +ascertaining the most minute particular, and this very +persuasion of success contributed to secure it. By some +means or other he invariably commanded the information +in due time. Amusing instances of this sometimes +occurred. Once, when out of the reach of any work of +reference, he was completely at fault for the blazonry +of a particular banner, used five hundred years ago. +He did not despair, but left the matter in blank, +expecting—though he would have been puzzled to +tell whence—the wished-for information would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +forthcoming. And so it was: casually looking at a +review, it so happened that the very thing he wanted +was described with more than ordinary minuteness.</p> + +<p>His inexhaustible creative power is conspicuous; +about two hundred different characters are introduced, +no one of whom reminds the reader of another, nor is +invention wanting for abundant diversity of incident +and adventure, heroic and comic. A gentleman who +had been reading the Traditions for the first time, +recently remarked, that for invention he scarcely knew +any writer Mr. Roby's equal. It is perhaps worthy of +notice, that all the characters are creations, not one an +idealized portrait.</p> + +<p>Another charm is the fine mould in which his heroines +are cast. There is a delicacy, a nobility, or high-minded +spirit of self-sacrifice about the more prominent, which, +while leaving the characters perfectly distinct, sustains +throughout a high ideal of woman. Not one bad +character figures as a woman; the only approach to +such is in tales of witchcraft, where, indeed, the Arch +Evil One, rather than his poor victim, is the criminal, +as though he would not even bring the idea of evil +athwart the favourite vision of his imagination. It may +be deemed not adhering to nature, thus to omit an +object she, alas! too often presents; but who would +blame the artist for the faultless beauty of his creations? +The sculptor may display his skill, by representing the +contortions of deformity, but not his highest ideal; +may show how clever a copyist with the chisel he can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +be, but not how deeply he has drunk of the inspiration +common to all art, how near he has approached to the +Fountain of all Beauty. The clearness of his conceptions, +and the way in which he threw himself into his +characters, are evinced by the dramatic action of even +the shortest story. While writing he appeared actually +to feel as he would have done, had he been in the +situations he described; he felt the perplexity, the +sense of danger, and the exultation of escape; for the +time he seemed to have a double life, at once sharing +the existence of his hero, and sympathizing as a spectator. +It was in a tone that he would have used, had +she been a living being, that he said of one of his +heroines, under very peculiar circumstances of danger<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a>, +"<i>I could not</i> let her perish." His plan was to commence +his tale, bring his characters into strange or perilous +situations, realize their danger in its full extent, without +the slightest idea of how he should extricate them; and +then, when the means of escape presented themselves to +his imagination, he would work on, delighted with the +suggestion, till to his great regret the tale was finished. +He knew when to leave off, but it cost him something +to do so; it was like parting company with friends.</p> + +<p>The short vivid descriptions of scenery scattered +throughout, are not often equalled. By a few strokes +of the pen, not only a perfect picture of the permanent +objects of a locality is placed before the reader's eye,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +but also the temporary lights and shadows which are +thrown on the landscape by the ever-shifting skies; the +very feeling of the air does not escape him. Each tale +is in fact a cabinet picture, combining history and landscape. +In the foreground the traditionary group appears +in vivid action; beyond, a far-receding distance, faint in +the noon-tide haze, or perchance a wood, with its broad +shadows, and burst of sunlight across the next glade. +An artist might paint from his descriptions. In the +case of one of the most effective engravings, that of +Rivington Pike, the drawing was made after the artist +had read the tale; the accessories of light and shade, +and in the original, of colour also, doubtless owe something +of their character to this circumstance.</p> + +<p>In his power of depicting the supernatural, Mr. Roby +stands pre-eminent; and this not only in little weird +touches, that come upon the reader he knows not how, +waking a chord within which makes him feel that +he has kindred with mysteries more than the eye sees, +or the ear hears—but in long-sustained intercourse +with beings who people the unseen world, and who seem +at certain times, and in certain places, to press upon +mortal spirits even to recognition, more, even to hallowed +or unhallowed communion. As if there were, +time and space concurring, points of juncture for the +two worlds. The ease with which he carries his reader +along with him, even in spite of the anti-spiritual +prejudices of the present age, cannot be better exemplified +than in the tale to which reference has just been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +made, Rivington Pike, which has been said by a German +reviewer to be, "the only authentic tale of demoniacal +possession the English have." The composition +of the story had a powerful effect on the writer himself. +He sat up writing longer than usual after the rest of the +family had retired. It was midnight when he had +finished; and so completely had the scenes he had been +describing, taken possession of his own mind, that he +dared not stir from his seat, nor did he, till Mrs. Roby, +surprised at his remaining down stairs so long after his +accustomed time, entered the room; the sight of a +familiar face broke the spell, and dissipated the visionary +alarm.</p> + +<p>The purity of the morality is such as befits a Christian +writer, and there is throughout the work a spirit of +reverence for things sacred, and of deference to the +supreme source of illumination, which is not always +to be found in our lighter literature. The reader, +charmed and delighted, is carried away from ordinary +scenes into a world of romance. Nevertheless in that +ideal land he finds the same laws of morality which +govern his daily life—the same God looked up to, as +the disposer of all things, the Father at once to be loved +and obeyed; and he may go back to his duties in common +life, without one moral idea having been deranged, +or one principle disturbed.</p> + +<p>It was at one time Mr. Roby's intention to follow up +the "Traditions of Lancashire" with similar illustrations +of the early history of the county of York. Subjects +were chosen, and a few tales written, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +appeared in Blackwood's and Frazer's magazines. One, +though not of this series, which was published in Frazer, +February 1837, under the title of "The Smuggler's +Daughter," was proposed to be dramatised. The parts +were cast, Mrs. Yates or Mrs. Keeley was to have taken +that of the heroine, and Mr. Buckstone and Mr. O. Smith +were to have engaged in others. From the correspondence +on the subject, it appears that Mr. Buckstone's +attention being demanded by other and rather perplexing +affairs, the representation of the "Smuggler's Daughter" +was delayed till after the appearance of the story +in the Magazine, and at last suffered to fall to the +ground.</p> + +<p>A book containing sketches of the different localities +he intended to illustrate, and memoranda of the traditions +attached to them, made during excursions into Yorkshire +for this purpose, show the spirit with which he +entered on his task, and it is much to be regretted that +anything should have been allowed to set it aside. +About this time he commenced the study of botany in +good earnest. In the same book are notes of a first +botanical tour, a few extracts from which may not be +uninteresting: they are certainly characteristic. While +pursuing the details of science, he was in no danger of +falling under the poet's malediction on him,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Whose mind is but the mind of his own eyes."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>They appear to have been written on the spot, whenever +any fresh object presented itself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Off to Wetherby.—Resolve to dissipate the mind. +Round Hey. Trees, &c., all green, yet how beautifully diversified—cool, +warm, half tints—Dr. Johnson, chaise +traveller. What is that purple tuft?—Elegant! <i>Vicia +cracca</i>.... What is that like a diminutive fir tree? +<i>Equisetum</i>, quite a puzzle for a beginner; never mind, learn +soon. Clover, I know; but where can it be classed? Honeysuckle +too—rushes and all, I suppose, though they would +puzzle to find a flower. Clouds, the soul of landscape. +What sky most beautiful? Never see a dandelion, but +thoughts the most intense that never die.—Where slumbering—where +the great reservoir?" No flower had the power +to revive early associations like this. His first recollections +of it, were as growing in a field near his father's house +where he played in infancy. "Yellow flowers among the +green wheat: Cherlock. Limestone district.—How delightful +any occupation that keeps the mind from preying on +itself. Want of employment similar to hunger.—Gastric +juice eats the stomach if no food.... What a delicious +smell! Butterfly orchis.... Foxglove unknown in some +of the southern counties, here how luxuriant! Localities of +plants, soil, &c., wants explanation. Poppy, sand, coltsfoot, +clay. Furze, Linnæus. Flowers, all made after one model, +never change the generic characters in whatever part of the +world; proof, where there no other, of an all-wise designer.... +Briony, spiral spring. <i>Orchis morio</i>. Something +about this tribe mysterious. Children in a field playing, +<i>enjoyment</i>. With what different eyes do I now look on +nature. What should possess me to learn botany, all my life +laughing at it. Arrangement, bump of order I suppose. +Distant view of the wolds. York Minster—what a host of recollections!... +<i>Iris pseudacorus</i>. Inoculated even the post-boy. +The operation, the power of mind over mind, what is it? +Country churches. People would write much better books +if they would take individualities, instead of generalities, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +sermons.... The numbers three and five, how predominant +in botany. <i>Geum urbanum</i>.—Lutford. Jackasses on a +common—patience personified. Why should <i>Jack</i> be a diminutive, +a lowering of any thing. Jack snipe, <i>Osmunda +regalis</i>.—Windmills always associate with country quiet; +the monotonous turn of the sails. Retreat. Lunatics: mankind +all so in one respect or another, but a great difference. +Lunatics lose their reasoning powers, and jumble ideas,—take +those for real which are only reflection and memory, +while those counted sane, with correct ideas, act diametrically +opposite to their knowledge.... Gravel-field, famous +place for plants. Set out. Roman antiquities—a Roman +burying place evidently,—continually digging out broken urns +of baked clay, very fragile.... Cats without tails, a breed +of them here; supposed originally from the Isle of Man. +Style of face in different parts. Query, Is it caught? +Lower part of the mouth formed by its owner." The notes +continue, but are almost exclusively botanical.</p></div> + +<p>In the spring of 1837, Mr. Roby made a rapid tour +on the Continent, the notes and illustrative sketches +of which were published in two volumes by Messrs. +Longman and Co., under the title of "Seven Weeks +in Belgium, Switzerland, Lombardy, Piedmont, Savoy, +&c." His quickness, and clearness of observation, and +power of placing before the reader's eye, in a few words, +the objects which met his own, render the book delightful +and refreshing to those whom duty detains at home. +Notes were taken on the spot, and but slightly amplified, +so that the narrative has all the freshness of a youthful +description of a day's pleasure. If the road branches off +in two directions, and the driver hardly knows which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +to take, the reader himself feels puzzled, and thinks +with apprehension of the nearness of the sun to the +horizon, and the miles yet to be traversed; if the +traveller is sailing down the lake listlessly drinking in +the beauty around him, the reader, too, feels the calm +repose of the still expanse of waters, and the softened +grandeur of the panorama of mountains. Even "the +dry hard names" of rare plants—music to the botanist—followed +as they are here by their more familiar +synonyms, enhance the charm of the book: we look up +from the sunny surface of the glacier to the crimson +flowers of the <i>Azalea procumbens</i> (trailing Azalea) +starring the barren rock. Graphic description alternates +with personal adventure and amusing anecdote, +marked alike by vivacity of style, and the buoyant spirit +of the author. Charming as a narrative of continental +travel, it at the same time has been said, "as a guide +book to the continent," to be "the best that was ever +written,"—the sight-seer, the lover of scenery, and the +botanist may use it to equal advantage. It shows how +much may be secured by a really active and inquisitive +mind, in a few weeks, while the full particulars respecting +passports, routes, distances, moneys, exchanges, &c., +puts the reader in the way of enjoying as much himself, +when it falls to his lot to take the same route. The +pictures of nature are in Mr. Roby's own effective style. +The start from the Custom-house, termed by the +"Literary Gazette" "a Calcott picture in a few lines," is +an instance. "It was a calm grey morning, the population<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +were hardly astir, the river with its wilderness of +masts seemed hardly awake; and the very water having +been suffered to rest untroubled for a space, looked dull +and drowsy." The impressions made by the first sight +of Alpine scenery on a mind like his, are, as it may be +expected, vividly told. It was of this part of the work, +that a lady, who had been familiar with good English +scenery all her life, and did justice to it both by pen and +pencil, remarked, "That book taught me to look at +mountains."</p> + +<p>In 1840 Mr. Roby again visited the Continent by a +different route, adhering to his custom of making notes +and sketches of what he saw. At the close of the same +year his attention was engaged by the preparation of a +new edition of the "Traditions of Lancashire," in a less +expensive form, so as to bring it within the reach of +general readers. It was published in three volumes by +Colburn, as the first of a series of Popular Traditions of +England.</p> + +<p>Mr. Roby's delight was as great in imparting as in +imbibing knowledge, and he took a warm interest in all +institutions for its diffusion. The principal literary occupation +of the next four years appears to have been the +preparation and delivery of lectures in connexion with +societies of this kind, in which his native county so +eminently abounds. His early efforts, while yet residing +at Wigan, and the welcome reception they met +with, have been before noticed; quite as acceptable +were the matured results of reading and research now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +offered to larger and more mixed audiences. In the +early autumn of 1838 he gave a course of ten lectures +in the theatre, Rochdale, in aid of the Philosophic and +Literary Society of that town, on botany; comprising +both classification and physiology, illustrated by large +diagrams painted in distemper. They were afterwards +delivered at Manchester, accompanied by some +beautiful experiments, made with the aid of Dr. Warwick's +oxy-hydrogen microscope, kindly superintended +by that gentleman, and subsequently at the Collegiate +Institution, Liverpool.</p> + +<p>The subjects of other lectures were various. A course +of four, on Tradition, as connected with, and illustrating +history, antiquities, and Romance, were delivered at +Rochdale. Drawings executed in a bold style in black +and red chalks, many of them thrown off at the time, +illustrated either the localities where the various legends +had birth, or the costumes, style of building, &c. of the +period. One set of lectures which the writer has been +so happy as to find fully written out, manifests not only +his taste for art, but his knowledge of its principles. +They are on painting, embracing light and shade, composition, +colour, and perspective; and when delivered, +were copiously illustrated, occasionally by pictures of +the old masters in his possession. He was never more +at home, than when ministering to the instruction or +gratification of others. His talents, information, acquisitions +of various kinds, whatever he might happen to +possess, that could at all contribute to the purpose, were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +put in requisition; and when the idea he wished to +convey, or illustrate, was caught by his audience, or in +private by his listening friends, his countenance became +radiant with pleasure; the belief that he had been of +use in any way to others, was one of his highest gratifications.</p> + +<p>Among his MSS. are some lectures on architecture, +commencing with the rude huts of barbarous tribes, and +then proceeding to the structures, as far as they are +known, of the ancient nations. Gothic architecture +finds its place in the fifth lecture; but from the abruptness +with which it breaks off in the middle of a sentence, +it appears that the lectures were not completed. There +are also, memoranda and rough diagrams for distinct +lectures on baronial architecture.</p> + +<p>A friend of Mr. Roby's, who was also for many years +a neighbour, has kindly favoured the writer with the +following recollections of some of his lectures.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The cheerful alacrity with which on several occasions +Mr. Roby yielded to the solicitations of his fellow-townsmen, +by giving gratuitous lectures to assist their Institution, was +evidence of his often-expressed wish to raise his less fortunate +countrymen in the scale of intellectual and social life. +I often came in contact with him in connexion with the +Rochdale Literary and Philosophic Society, for which he gave +several lectures on Tradition, Botany, and some other subjects. +His lectures on the Linnæan system of Botany, and +another series on the Physiology of Plants, given before our +society, were of the very first character; displaying an +amount of research, and a power of analysis, combined with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +most felicitous modes of illustration, rarely meeting in the +same individual. The colored drawings used on these occasions, +executed by himself and his son, would have done honour +to any artist. Such was the popularity of the two botanical +courses, that, by request, they were repeated in Manchester, +and some other neighbouring towns. In illustrating +the lectures on Tradition, the rapidity with which he could +throw off the gable or window of an old manor-house or any +object of a similar character, was, to me, perfectly marvellous—a +few touches, and the effect was produced."</p></div> + +<p>The most popular of the lectures were those on the +peculiarities of the Lancashire dialect. They were delivered +to crowded audiences at several literary institutions, +connected with different large towns in the county. +In a tolerably full abstract, given by the "Preston Pilot," +and in the original notes, there is ample proof of the +highly interesting character of these lectures. Ethnological +inquiries, full of attraction to the lovers of that +science, formed the introduction, while, to a Lancashire +audience, the charm of the whole must have been +irresistible, and have furnished an entertainment second +only to "Mathews at Home." The fund of anecdote, +the rich racy humour which sparkled through the +lecture, the inimitable wit of "Tummus and Meary," +and the equally inimitable tones of the voice which then +gave it utterance, are still fresh in the recollection of +many. Had the lectures been fully written out, they +would have made a charming little Christmas book, +fascinating alike from the information contained, and +the mirth it would provoke. The anecdotes are all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +indicated in the notes by the principal word or sentence, +and go far to prove what the lecturer asserted, that a +Lancashire man would at any time equal an Irishman +in wit.</p> + +<p>These lectures were last delivered at Preston, in +March, 1844. Having commenced the series, Mr. Roby, +with characteristic determination, persisted in carrying +it through, though suffering from a severe attack of +influenza, which he kept at bay by force of will. Immediately +on his return home his health gave way. +Mischief had been going on for years, but the activity +of his mind, and that indomitable spirit, which would +bear extreme suffering before it complained, even to +itself, had prevented his heeding any indications of +disease, till it had pervaded the whole system. The +disorder baffled medical skill; change of scene was +tried in vain: as months rolled on his sufferings increased; +and, though still striving to attend to professional +duties, he was utterly unfit to cope with care +and anxiety of any kind. Physical pain rendered him +incapable of deriving pleasure from any of those sources +which had heretofore afforded such rich enjoyment. +Society, art, intellectual pursuits, became not only +insipid but distasteful, and with this suffering a new +element mingled, deep mental distress. Holy Writ +speaks of such a thing as the heart not being "right in +the sight of God," and a fearful consciousness that such +was his own case, now became as "the arrow of the +Almighty, the poison whereof drinketh up the spirit."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +An increasingly vivid apprehension of the just claims +of the Being who demands of His creatures, the +love of "heart and mind, and soul, and strength," a +deepening insight into his own nature, augmented the +torturing sense of his own deficiency. In a life without +reproach, spent in the discharge of duty, and in refined +and ennobling pursuits, there was nothing on which +self-observation, while it looked at the outward, could +detect a stain. Life had hitherto been too busy, time +too fully and pleasantly occupied, to afford leisure for +self-inspection; but now the ordinary routine of pursuit +had been broken, and involuntary retirement induced; +the eye was turned within, and the result was a conviction +that <span class="smcap">God</span> had not thus been loved with heart, +and soul, and strength; and the spirit which had so long +been partially under the power of great principles, now +awoke to feel that it must incorporate them with its +very life—or die. Little wonder that, on a spirit whose +sensibilities were at once quick and strong, and on +whom impressions once made were singularly permanent, +such discoveries should work agony so intense, or that +those who understood not the cause of the distress, +should think that reason herself was giving way. Such +has often been said of others, who were passing through +the same crisis of their mental history, not inaptly +termed "the everlasting No!" His mind had too much +play to lose its balance. A more stolid mind, or a brain +like "the gentle" Cowper's, predisposed to malady, +would in all probability have given way, as month<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +after month, year after year, rolled away and brought +no relief. It was a suffering no friends could soothe; +his mental conformation peculiar,—none seemed to meet +its emergencies. Bodily disease no doubt aggravated +mental agony, but as</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No cure for such, till <span class="smcap">God</span> who makes them heals."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>For a long time the only relief of which his mind was +susceptible, arose from his acquaintance with one in +some respects similar to his own, one which understood +his sufferings perfectly, for it had known the same both +in kind and in degree. The moral element in each, +which recoiled from the divine requirements, must have +taken precisely the same form of action. Beautiful, +even from the very contrasts it presented, was the true +and faithful friendship that ensued, between minds +sympathising in one point of overpowering interest, +though in training and pursuits widely dissimilar; and +warm was the gratitude with which he ever held in +remembrance those unwearied efforts to pour consolation +into his tortured spirit.</p> + +<p>To trace the mental history for three or four years, +from the commencement of the illness, would be too +painful, even were the subject not too sacred. Increasing +physical disease, wearing trial of other kinds, +asked for a spirit vigorous and happy in the Christian's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +strength, to bear up against them; but instead of that +the mind had at the same time woes of its own to +sustain. Left to feel as it had never before felt, its +own inwrought sinfulness and utter helplessness, it was +borne down, crushed, only rising again to suffer anew, +and again to sink. If the promises of <span class="smcap">God</span> shone out +as the stars in a cloudy night, it was only a momentary +gleam, and dense darkness covered the face of heaven +as before. Most touching are some private papers and +letters, written during this period. In the former, +particularly, intense yearning for the consciousness of a +personal share in the Saviour's love, earnest longings to +be able with appropriating faith to say "<i>My</i> Father," +are expressed with an emphasis, that renders them an +embodiment of mental suffering in all its reality and +severity. Afterwards, when the time of trial was past, +and he could look back on it and trace its effects, he +frequently remarked, that he believed no other than the +severe discipline he then underwent, could have brought +a spirit like his to entire self-renunciation. Cant or +religious pretence was alike repugnant to his nature, +and to his cultivated taste; but in those days of suffering +he gained such insight into himself, as led him, pure +as his outward life had been, fully to appropriate the +strongest expressions, by which the scriptures indicate +the sinfulness of human nature. He then recognised +in this period of mental conflict and distress, the direct +acting of the Spirit of <span class="smcap">God</span>, revealing those things +which "the natural man knoweth not." What were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +dimly apprehended before, as little more than objects of +intellectual belief—the extent of the moral derangement +of his own nature, the mystery of personal connexion +with the atonement of our Lord Jesus Christ—had +now become matters of cordial faith. Thus, raised by +His power into a full participation of those things, only +to be understood by such participation, his became a +new existence. The secret spring of daily actions was +changed. Never living entirely without the <i>fear</i> of +<span class="smcap">God</span> as a <i>controlling</i> principle, he now became sensible +of <i>love</i> to Him as an <i>impelling</i> principle, causing him to +seek to serve Him to whom he owed so much, and +to follow His will in all the pursuits of life.</p> + +<p>Having so long tried in vain the various measures +prescribed by the best medical advice, both at home, and +in different places he visited, Mr. Roby turned as a last +resource to the Water Cure. He went to Malvern in +the spring of 1847; looking up, as he afterwards said, +to those beautiful hills, as he approached them, with the +thought "I shall never walk there—I am only coming +to die." Encouragement being given him, to expect +ultimate recovery, and finding the process of cure would +be very slow, he at once broke up his establishment at +Rochdale, and fixed his residence for the time at Malvern. +His own medical attendant considered him past hope +when he left the north; nor was it in the power of +medicine to effect a cure. When he commenced the +trial of Hydropathy, Dr. Gully pronounced the sheath +of every nerve to be in a state of active inflammation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +Almost every aliment he took increased the irritation; +medicine only added fuel to the flame. He pursued +the water treatment vigorously for some months, before +he perceived any benefit, and to his own indomitable +perseverance in following the prescribed directions he +owed, under the blessing of <span class="smcap">God</span>, his surprising restoration. +A remarkably good constitution, unimpaired by +excesses of any kind, gave every advantage to remedial +measures in combating disease, and in the end his case +proved an instance of the perfect success of those +measures.</p> + +<p>Distinct as was his mental suffering in its true cause +from the physical malady, they aggravated each other, +and in recovery their mutual action was observable. +Faith and Hope by slow degrees gained strength; the +spirit insensibly grew calmer, the <span class="smcap">Son</span> of <span class="smcap">God</span> was seen +walking on the waves, and the tempest was hushed. +The burning anxiety within now quenched in the sense +of reconciliation with <span class="smcap">God</span>, "My Father" being at last +the delighted cry of the spirit; there was no longer a +latent impediment to the complete restoration of health.</p> + +<p>The first palpable symptom of general improvement, +was the gradual return of his love for botany, and +pleasure in the pursuit. This was nurtured by his +excellent wife, who, with a delight which can only be +imagined by those who have watched the returning +health of some beloved one, induced him to make a +botanical object for their daily drives. The Flora of the +neighbourhood contained many rare plants only known<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +to him, through Sowerby's figures or dried specimens. +By degrees, amendment became more decidedly marked, +his native flow of spirits began to return, though at +first feebly: and she who through those years of +suffering—a period almost as painful to the patient's +friends as to himself—had nursed him with the tenderest +care, and unwearied affection, now realized the +sentiment of the poet,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sweet when the winter of disease is past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the glad spring of health returns at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a loved cheek long bloomless, to behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its first faint leaf the trembling rose unfold.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">*<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">*</span><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">*</span><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">*</span><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">*</span><br /></span> +<span class="i1">*<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">*</span><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">*</span><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">*</span><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">*</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, doubly blest, who then can trusting view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The buoyant step, the vigour-beaming hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love's fond cares recall'd, with joy divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can whisper to his heart,—That work is mine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Lines addressed to Mr. Wedgewood by Dr. Thomas +Brown, Late Prof. Mor. Phil. in the Univers. +of Edinb.</i>"</p></div> + +<p>She had her reward—she lived long enough to see +the object of her affectionate solicitude restored to +health, the powers of mind and body returning in full +force, and was then herself prostrated by an illness before +which her constitution gave way. She died peacefully +and happily, in the faith and hope of the Gospel, just as +a new year was opening with all its promise on others. +A blow so sudden and unexpected, was bewildering;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +the companion of years was gone, the bereaved one was +alone, and in new scenes. His efforts at cheerfulness in +the society of casual acquaintance, compared with the +mastery feeling would gain over him, when he entered +into the home society of nearer friends, attested the +severity of this new trial. But happily for the mourner, +he could recur to the calm and peace of those last +moments, they seemed to be to him, the most precious +of earthly recollections.</p> + +<p>He once more turned to his pen, and sought a +healthy solace for his lonely hours in mental occupation, +first obtaining leave of his physician, who assured him +that the wish to write, intimated he might do so with +safety. During the ensuing summer and autumn he +gave what leisure the imperative claims of "the cure," +permitted, to literary occupation of various kinds. But +still <i>home</i> was not the same, there was a kind of +dislocation in the social life (if the expression may be +allowed) he could not write as he was wont to do. He +persevered, and as months rolled on regained his usual +facility of composition. A tale of considerable length, +founded on the characteristics of modern life, occupied +him during the winter. Though lacking the romance of +the olden time, it was not deficient in stirring incident +and spirited dialogue. It appeared in "Hogg's Weekly +Instructor," from May to August 1850.</p> + +<p>The following lines, composed after he had recommenced +writing, are among the few which, bearing +a date, allow of insertion in the right place. They are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +now garnered among life's precious things, having been +addressed to a family group of whom the writer of this +sketch was one:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye came across my path<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In life's dark lonely way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gleam upon its dreary track,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A bright but transient ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or like some vivid meteor-light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which dazzling, leaves a deeper night!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Or like an evening gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Athwart some stormy sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On rocks, woods, waves the radiance breaks<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In glory and in joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere all is wrapt in doubt and gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And darkness falls o'er daylight's tomb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Like memories of the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When life's young morn was bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the glowing future, one<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wide atmosphere of light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere gathering clouds the skies o'erspread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And early hope's brief sunshine fled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Twere better ne'er to taste<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of pleasure's thrilling draught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the parch'd, fever'd, thirsty lip<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To leave ere it be quaff'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere better launch on Lethe's stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than bliss to feel a bygone dream.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To meet,—and meet no more!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One look and then to sever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel 'tis but a parting glance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And then 'Farewell' for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from bright tints deep shades we borrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joys past but deepen present sorrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All earthly joy must fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All earthly bliss decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life but the sunshine and the shower<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of some brief "April day:"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till death like night's grim shadow steals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the unknown at once reveals!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And earthly idols, all<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Must perish if too dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We ne'er should seek enduring bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Could we but find it here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our dearest, tenderest ties must break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hopes wither oft, and friends forsake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And though your presence now<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A vision of the past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those bright laughing sunny hours<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Too joyous were to last;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet like the perfume of the flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More fragrant in the twilight hour,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So though unseen,—beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In memory's milder light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More tender and more hallow'd seem<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Forms too remote for sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In memory's softer hues enshrin'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What cherish'd hopes are left behind!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And though we meet no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though destined far apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fond remembrance lingers long<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That lingers in the heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A breath, a touch, the chord may thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the past our bosom fill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Adieu! whate'er betide<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On life's unstable sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In darkness or in light the Power<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unseen your solace be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In joy or woe, whate'er His will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hand your guide, your safety still!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Great Malvern, May 1848."</p><br /></div> + +<p>To test Mr. Roby's power of language in a sportive +mood, the first letter and last word in each line of the +following acrostic were given him one evening. The +order of the rhymes as well as of the initial letters was +to remain unchanged. On the following morning he +produced the lines completed. The Ivy Rock was a +favourite haunt in a ravine on the hills.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Malvern the birth-place of English Poetry.<br /> +The vision of Pierce Plowman from <span class="smcap">the Ivy Rock</span>."<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></p></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The minstrel seer look'd out <i>afar</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His eye was keen, his glance was <i>long</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eve deck'd her brow with one fair <i>star</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">In glory oft to hear his <i>song</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Visions of after-years bursting to <i>life</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon wide plain swept in shadows huge and <i>dim</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Records of woe, and dread, and coming <i>strife</i>!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that lone rock, while mute his evening <i>hymn</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calm silence sate;—and through the live-long <i>night</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindled his rapt eye in prophetic <i>light</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Malvern, March 21, 1849."</p><br /></div> + +<p>In the summer of 1849, Mr. Roby again married. +The loved, and almost idolized head of a happy home, +he appeared, as he had never before to those who only +knew him in his bereaved life, breathing an atmosphere +of happiness, and diffusing it around him, till even the +sorrowful grew bright with smiles, and</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Souls by nature pitch'd too high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By suffering plunged too low,"<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>were lifted up again into the untroubled joy of childhood. +It was impossible the traveller should retain his +mantle of grief with such fervid sunshine around him. +The enthusiasm of his nature gathered new force from +the buoyancy of recovered health, and found its own +element in the exquisite woodland scenery lying among +the recesses of the Cotswold hills. To those who know +these woods, or have once seen them in the tender +luxuriance of very early summer, this term is not too +strong. The rich botanical treasures they presented, +were many of them new to him. The writer cannot +forget the intense pleasure with which he discovered +among the last year's beech leaves, and held up to view, +the beautiful <i>Epipactis grandiflora</i> (white helleborine), +which he had only once before seen, his companion, +never. Nor the delight with which on another occasion +he hailed the long-sought <i>Listera nidus avis</i> (birds-nest +ophrys), now found for the first time in its native +habitat. Nor did he lose the general impression of +nature in scientific details. The beautiful effects of +light and shadow, the peculiar blue air tint of the +beech woods, every thing that went to form the perfect +whole, seemed individually to fill his spirit with exquisite +pleasure. And as, in that evening's wandering +through the Cranham woods, with friends whose spirits +were kindred—looking down the hanging wood, +through a lengthening vista, the evening mist was seen +creeping on, its hues changing gradually from soft rose-colour +to deep purple, the novel and almost unearthly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +beauty of the scene was such, that all caught his +rapture, and felt that never before had any thing so +vividly imaged the paradise of the spirit-world. It +might have been the painter's conception of Bunyan's +land of Beulah.</p> + +<p>The early autumn of the year was spent among the +Cumberland mountains. Furnished with a botanical +tin, pressing-book, and sketch-book—the provision for +the day slung at the saddle-bow, some delightful +excursions of about five-and-twenty miles a day were +made. Nothing could be more congenial with his +buoyant, independent spirit, than the freedom of these +mountain rambles—professional guides dispensed with, +he always squire of dames, and horses too. Starting +early in the morning, dining one day on the mountain's +brow, the next in the recesses of Borrowdale, amid the +haunts of the rarer ferns, or under the shadow of +Honister Crag, in the silence of the mountain solitudes; +and then with the declining sun, treasure-laden, wending +our homeward way as the evening shadows crept on, +until,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Every leaf was lost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dark hedges,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and the road lengthened itself out as if interminably, +till at last the lights twinkled cheeringly as Keswick +came in sight.</p> + +<p>While thus with youth renewed—for certainly +Hydropathy in Mr. Roby's case seemed to effect more +than the mere removal of disease—life became one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +long holiday of enjoyment, it was also a period of +earnest work.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Like as a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That maketh not haste<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And taketh not rest,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>he</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Was ever fulfilling<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His <span class="smcap">God</span>-given hest."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>With no claims of a secular profession upon him, and +with a spirit chastened and hallowed by suffering, he +devoted his energies to literature principally, but at the +same time he was prompt to use his powers in any way +for the good of his fellow-men. Impressed more deeply +than ever with the conviction that in the faith, and +practice of Christianity alone, lie the true happiness and +virtue of our race; and that in the exercise of his +talents, man's only adequate aim is to be found in the +service of <span class="smcap">God</span>, he sought by a more constant infusion +of Christian principles, in the productions of his pen, +to give a corresponding tone to the minds of his +readers; thus working</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"As ever in his great Task-master's eye."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Bearing in mind a truth burnt in by affliction, how +entirely he owed life and immortality to a Saviour's +love, he "loved much" in return, and found in that +love, a motive for unsparing labour. During his stay +at Keswick, he was placed in circumstances which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +called upon him to conduct the worship of a few poor +people from Sabbath to Sabbath. That self-distrust +which so eminently characterised him before <span class="smcap">God</span>, was +immediately roused. The pleasure he had known in +swaying large audiences, in striking out from listening +countenances the sympathetic flash, recurred to his mind, +and he feared, lest in holy things self-seeking should +intrude; "I am so afraid of running before I am sent," +was the remark made in confidence, where each feeling +of the soul was uttered as it rose. But the call was +clear and distinct, the voice of "the Master" was heard +and obeyed. Sad and strange would it have been if the +tongue so eloquent for the gratification of his fellow-men, +had been silent when their highest welfare was to +be promoted—if that voice raised at man's request for +his passing pleasure, had been dumb for God. And +doubtless the light of the spirit-world, which even when +we only catch it dimly reflected from the mantles of the +ascending ones, resolves into</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The baseless fabric of a vision,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>the objects of earthly ambition, has now confirmed the +judgment passed by the faithful spirit, whose simple aim +while here, was to "<i>do the will</i>" of his Father in +heaven.</p> + +<p>The Religious Tract Society's Monthly Messenger, +for September of that year, No 63, was from his pen. It +had an extensive circulation, and a slight fact relative to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +it, that has recently come to light, is doubly interesting +when it is borne in mind, how intensely the writer of +the Tract had suffered, and how deep in consequence +was his sympathy with all mental distress. A poor +woman in the south of England was so weighed down +with family troubles, that she came one day to the +resolution of ending them that night, by throwing +herself into a river which ran hard by her dwelling. +Before evening, a gentleman who was not aware of the +state of her affairs, put into her hands a copy of the +tract referred to. The inquiry with which it was +headed, "Are you fit to die?" arrested her attention. +She felt she was not fit to die, and her resolution was +shaken—she deferred, at least for that night, fulfilling +her intention. The conviction of her unfitness for +another world deepened; she was led to seek forgiveness +and renewal of spirit—she found the way +of peace, and the last thing heard of her, was that her +worldly circumstances also were prospering. It may be +worth observing, that probably the tract had the more +point, entered more into the heart of the reader, from +the fact of its having been written with an individual +strongly before the author's mind. A young woman, +whose life was rapidly going in confirmed consumption, +while she was utterly unaware of her danger, had +excited his deepest interest. Merry, buoyant, well disposed +towards every one and every thing, except the +subject of religion; her dislike or fixed aversion to which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +went beyond all bounds. The tract was written, but +before it was published he had lost all traces of her.</p> + +<p>Most conspicuous during this journey was his untiring +industry combined with the variety of his pursuits, +no one of which seemed to interfere with another. +The industrious botanist, and equally industrious +artist, yet found leisure for careful reading, and the +use of the pen. Every moment had its occupation; the +rainy days were devoted to literary work or the finishing +of sketches, broken by a quiet game of chess. While +at Bowness Mr. Roby enjoyed one high gratification, a +few details of which, though given in a private letter, +may be inserted without apology, as the subject is of +general interest.</p> + +<p class="right"><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 8em;">"Saturday, Sept. 30th.</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"We have seen Wordsworth to-day. As we accompanied +friends of my husband's (the Rev. J. H. and Mrs. Addison, +of Birthwaite Abbey) who happened to owe Mr. and Mrs. +Wordsworth a morning visit, we did not feel intruders. As +usual the day was brilliant, we had a delightful row up the +lake, the trees on the islands had the rich scarlet and russet +tints of autumn, while those on the shore still retained their +soft green, making the edges of the lake perfectly verdant. +A flight of snow that fell yesterday covered the tops of the +mountains which came out in the full sunshine, pure white +against the brightest of blue skies. Past the lake, we rowed +up the Rotha as far as it is practicable, and there leaving +the boats,—cloaks as well—moored to the margin of the +stream, we took a beautiful path, through private grounds, +on the left of the river, passing Fox How, from whence I +bring you an ivy relic, to Rydal Mount. <i>Mr.</i> Wordsworth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +(as of course he is here,) was just sitting down to dinner; he +came out and begged us to stay in the drawing-room, or in +the grounds if we preferred it, till dinner was over. We +chose to stroll about, which gave time for a sketch. After +a short time, Mr. Wordsworth came and took us into the +drawing-room to see Mrs. W. He was not so tall as I +had expected, probably the effect of years; his voice somewhat +indistinct, gave indications of old age, not so his ideas +or expressions. The lower part of his face is deeply furrowed; +but when sitting with his back to the light, animated +in conversation, every thing is lost in its glowing expression, +except his noble expanse of forehead. He chatted away on +literary matters with my husband, evidently with hearty +pleasure. They talked of a distinguished living writer; of +his style, Mr. Wordsworth remarked, that every sentence +seemed finished by itself, which was never the case with our +best writers—that reviewing had an injurious effect on the +style of a literary man, the reviewer has ever to be saying +something that will tell, every sentence must be striking.</p> + +<p>"Allusion was made to a new neighbour; Wordsworth +observed that she was clever, but apt to be imposed on; he +confessed that on the whole, he was sorry she had come +there, on account of her habit of not going to a place of +worship: the example might do no harm in London, Manchester, +and those large places, where people did not know +their next-door neighbour, but here it was different, and no +good she could do would be equal to the harm of her +example; 'but,' he added, 'I like her benevolence, and forgive +many things for that.' One other remark he made must +not be forgotten; speaking of a writer whom he considered +not a safe guide on account of his prejudices, he said, 'He is +so prejudiced he does not know when he lies.'</p> + +<p>"Altogether the visit was one of high delight. There was +so much more enthusiasm about him, than from the philosophic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +cast of his poems I had expected. The genial glow of his +manner, the warmth of his shake of hands at parting, and +especially the quick pleasure with which he turned round to +his wife whenever she made a remark, and the affectionate +tone in which, when he did not catch it, he would inquire, +'What did you say, Mary'? quite won my heart. He impressed +us, too, as a Christian living in obedience to, and +communion with Heaven. His personal character seemed to +come out with a completeness one would hardly have believed +possible in our interview. I shall understand and love +all he has written, the better for this visit."</p></div> + +<p>Returning homewards, Mr. Roby made several visits +among his family and friends. Little was it thought +when one gratification and another were deferred +owing to the lateness of the season till the <i>next</i> visit, +that this was the <i>last</i>. The cordiality and pleasure +with which he was welcomed, left a delightful recollection +of Lancashire and Yorkshire hospitality. The +country had not yet lost all its beauty, the rich +Autumn tints of October were still lingering on the +Bolton Woods: the Wharfe gave forth his peculiar +music as he rushed along his rocky bed in the open +meadow, or dashed madly over the fearful Strid, till +even those accustomed to gaze drew back from the +fascination. One day was devoted to York, the metropolis +of his native North. His familiarity with the +remains of antiquity so pre-eminently abounding in +that city, and his enthusiasm equal to his knowledge, +rendered him one of the best of Ciceroni. Ever vivid +will be the impressions of that day; the grandeur of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +the Minster, as the South Front, with its beautiful +marygold window comes suddenly into view at the +end of the old narrow street; the solemnity which +seemed to pervade the very atmosphere within; the +seven sisters memorialized in those unique chaste +lights which bear their name—and never was the light +of Heaven intercepted by aught so soft, so subdued, so +meet for a Temple of the Most High, with no distraction +from higher thought in its beauty—and the incomparable +west windows, where the tracery is so light, +and the colouring so gorgeous, that it seems as if the +stone work were melting into gems. And how was all +that glory heightened as it was reflected back from his +spirit, the true home of the beauty which the material +can only symbolize.</p> + +<p>The Red Tower, the scene of one of his published +tales; the site of the Roman Prætorium, the scene of +another; the unrivalled Museum gardens, with their +Roman and Gothic remains, the Multangular Tower +and St. Mary's Abbey, the city walls, &c., &c., all +that could be seen in one day, by the help of good +walking, and unflagging spirits, contributed to our +enjoyment. What could not be brought in, was left +for future years, so fondly reckoned on, when a stay of +weeks or months in the city was to allow all its +recesses to be explored, and the spirit of the place to +be thoroughly imbibed. Yet beyond all comparison +with the other pleasures of the day, great as they were, +was the enjoyment in a manner created by his intense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +delight in the present, and in the plans for the future;—yet +of that future "if the Master will," was ever on +his lips. The hour that came "as a thief in the night," +found him watching.</p> + +<p>By Christmas, Mr. Roby had settled down at Malvern, +and commenced his winter's work. His habit was to +devote the first hour or half hour after breakfast, to +religious reading, selecting such works as bore on +personal or devotional, rather than on theoretic or +polemical subjects. Among the last he read, were some +new favorites:—Hodge's "Way of Life," and his "Commentary +on the Epistle to the Romans;" Alleine's +"Heaven Opened," and Sheppard's "Devotional +Thoughts." "Milner's Sermons," which had long held +the highest place in his estimation, were frequently in +hand. The rest of the forenoon was given to literary occupation, +as were the evenings when not spent in society. +The only interruption to this quiet course of life, was +the delivery of his Lectures on Botany; (which had been +given two months previously at Northampton,) before +the Worcestershire Natural History Society, in January, +1850. This would scarcely be worthy of mention, +were it not for a circumstance which arose out of the +engagement. While arranging the diagrams preparatory +to the delivery of the last lecture, Mr. Roby +incautiously stepped too near the back of the platform, +which was protected only by a curtain, his left foot +slipped, and the right leg was bent back from the +knee on which the whole weight of the body was consequently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +thrown. He had, however, the self-command +to go through the lecture without in the least betraying +what he suffered, except by the lameness involuntarily +shown when he had occasion to move in order to +point out the different illustrations; but the agony he +endured was intense, and he reached home sick and +faint from its long continuance. His power of bearing +pain often excited surprise and admiration in those who +witnessed it, so complete in his case was the "power +of the soul over the body." It was mental, not bodily, +anguish that he dreaded. Mr. Roby never quite recovered +from the effects of this accident, though, contrary +to the expectation of those who were acquainted with +the extent of the injury, by the time he left Malvern in +June, they were not perceptible in his walk. The +muscles, however, had not fully regained their play, +the act of kneeling was difficult and painful; mounting +gaps and fences in his botanical rambles still more so; +he was ever fearful of a stray stone, feeling that a +trifle might occasion a fall: and this, it is apprehended, +must have increased his peril on the awful morning of +the 18th of June.</p> + +<p>In spite of pain, he worked hard during the winter +and spring. He finished a series of papers, containing a +popular introduction to Botany; wrote two reviews, one +for the Literary Gazette on Dr. Addison's recent work +on Consumption; the other, for Hogg's Weekly Instructor, +on a work which had just appeared by the +author of "Dr. Hookwell," entitled "Dr. Johnson, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +Religious Life and Death." But his principal occupation +was the composition of a series of tales, intended to +illustrate the influence of Christianity in successive +periods. At this he laboured incessantly. The consecration +of his talents in any way their nature admitted +to the service of <span class="smcap">Him</span> whom with George Herbert he +delighted to call "My Master," was the mainspring of +his untiring energy. And when only once the voice of +affection suggested that he was working too hard, he +replied, as though with a presentiment of the sudden +coming on of night to him, to the effect that he had +not long to work, adding, "I must not sit still and see +the stream run by." He prepared six of the tales (deferring +one for the fourth century till he had received +a copy of a work which a friend had promised on +the Druidical Worship), thus bringing the series down +to the close of the seventh century, when superstitious +rites and observances began to overspread Christendom. +At the end of the closing tale he glances at the gathering +darkness, and thus concludes with the last words he +ever wrote for the press:—"In our next we shall trace +some of those mysterious dispensations,—inscrutable to +us, but doubtless among the 'all things' which work +together for good, and 'for the furtherance of his +gospel.'" It is not surprising that these words, little +noticed when first listened to, on the completion of +the story, should, when seen again a few weeks after +the sad catastrophe, seem like words of comfort which +affection had unconsciously traced against the day of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +need. Little more was accomplished besides sketching +out future occupation for the pen in old and new directions. +An instance of the latter now vividly recurs +to mind: seeing Tieck's Phantasien one morning on a +friend's table, he borrowed it, to ascertain if a translation +of the tales would suit a purpose he had in view, +and to try how two minds could work together. +The experiment was perfectly successful. Very slightly +acquainted with the language himself, the tale was +read off to him in what English, or sometimes half +Germanized English, was at command: the rough-hewn +thought was instantly apprehended in all its beauty and +meaning by the listener, and given back, in his own +polished style, rather "a transfusion than translation." +The pleasure was unexpectedly cut short in the midst +of a tale, after the second or third evening, and it was +with a feeling, even then recognised as akin to foreboding, +that the unfinished volume was returned to the +friend whose sudden departure from Malvern thus put +an end to the delightful occupation.</p> + +<p>As the spring advanced, and the effects of the accident +were so much diminished as to allow of the free exercise +of walking, Mr. Roby renewed his botanical rambles, +generally in the society of friends; and very pleasant +were these little parties that wound over the hill-top or +through the woody lanes and green meadows of Herefordshire, +in search of plants to supply his own and his +friends' desiderata, or those of the London Botanical +Society, of which he was a member. And, quick as was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +his eye for rare plants, it caught even more quickly +those beautiful effects on the landscape which the +changeful skies of spring so often produce, making a +perfect picture of an old farm-stead a broken foreground, +contrasting with the soft retiring distance or +the gently swelling slopes, where beneath the trees +scarcely yet in leaf the wind flowers bowed as the breeze +passed over them.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the crowning botanical pleasure of the +season was his lighting upon the beautiful <i>Pinguicula +vulgaris</i> (common Butterwort) in a spongy place on the +hill. He seemed the very personification of happiness, +as he hastened home, with buoyant step and sparkling +eye, to one whose desire to see, equalled his own to +show, this pride of our bogs. Often in the preceding +autumn at the Lakes had the pale green star-like tuft of +leaves called forth eloquent praises of its beauty, and +corresponding regrets that the time of its flowering was +over for the season. The Lancashire Asphodel was the +one other flower which he most regretted not being able +to show, as its withered spikes indicated again and again +where it had bloomed.</p> + +<p>Spring was deepening into summer, when Mr. Roby +made arrangements for a journey into Scotland. Furnished, +through the kindness of a friend, with introductions +to the best society in the neighbourhood of +Edinburgh, with the prospect of the meeting of the +British Association, and the anticipation of renewing +mountain rambles, he looked forward to the summer +with raised expectations.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>In approaching the last few hours the writer feels the +alternative lies between making the slightest possible +reference to them, or casting herself on the reader's +sympathy and indulgence, and using details which were +written three years since, with near friends, rather than +the public, before her mind. Thrown suddenly into +circumstances where the sway of grief was broken by +constantly recurring necessity for thought and action, +the mind was excited and over-strained to incessant exertion +rather than stunned, and under the prolonged +excitement, it could go again over scenes which it is +now too much a coward to encounter. She, therefore, +hopes there is no error in adopting the course now pursued, +and embodying the private MS. in the general +narrative.</p> + +<p>We left Malvern for Egremont June 7th. The ten +days passed there were occupied with the interests of +the two boys whom their father was anxious to see set +out in life. When he came in tired with a long morning +spent in Liverpool, after a few moments' rest, he +would turn to a sketch that had been in progress during +his absence, and, fatigue all vanishing, would call for +pencil and colours, take his seat at the window, and +go on with the drawing. It was a great favourite of +his. Of all the pleasures with which life was replete, +none delighted him more than this, both working on +the same picture, without betraying by any want +of unity in the design or harmony in the colouring, +that two minds had been engaged. <i>That drawing</i> alas!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +which he fondly called "the best yet," lies in the ill-fated +wreck.</p> + +<p>Pleasant, and yet painful, are the memoirs of evening +rambles along the beach watching the vessels as they +came and went. One elegant yacht, which his artist +eye detected among the numerous craft, is well remembered: +he fixed her form in his mind, and destined her for +"the drawing"—one of the many unfulfilled purposes.</p> + +<p>The last sabbath came, and it was a day of peace. We +worshipped <span class="smcap">God</span> together; that hymn of Dr. Watts', so +great a favourite of his from its touching contrasts,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Give me the wings of Faith to rise," &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>opened the last service. As we walked home in the +evening we felt mentally invigorated: he seemed more +than ever penetrated with a sense of consecration to the +service of <span class="smcap">God</span>, and we communed of how, in our coming +sojourn amid new scenes, He might best be served. +"He will make it plain, He will point out our work for +us," was my beloved husband's closing remark.</p> + +<p>At three o'clock p.m. on Monday 17th June we +embarked on board the steamer Orion for Scotland, +hoping to reach Glasgow by ten, and Edinburgh by one +o'clock the next day. Nothing could be calmer than +the sea, and we walked for hours on the deck, watching +any vessel that came in sight, and catching at intervals +distant glimpses of the coast. Our favourite spot was +a narrow ledge at the stern immediately behind the +wheel. It just gave us footing, and enabled us to look +over and watch the track left by the vessel as she cut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +rapidly through the waves. The white foam, the +various shades of pale green, darkening as we seemed to +look down into the depths of the ocean, recalled descriptions +of the glaciers, and the correctness of the +supposed resemblance my husband confirmed from his +own recollections.</p> + +<p>Evening wore on—we took our last meal together on +deck. The Isle of Man came in sight; a sketch was +taken for his approbation; and the bright smile that +rewarded it is sunshine even now. All recollections of +him are happy: the animation and hope with which he +repeatedly expressed his belief that his daughter's health, +which was not firm, would be completely established by +the voyage; the quiet satisfaction of his manner as we +sat enjoying the present, sometimes glancing forward to +the morrow, all bespoke happiness. Indeed, all the +characteristics of a happy life seemed to meet in those +few hours. There was the earnestness and the tenderness +of affection: there was, too, its playfulness. There +was the thought of still holier things: strong was the +wish he expressed that we could have been at the lowly +meeting for prayer, which was announced the night +before for that evening. There was the love and admiration +of nature, as the glories of sunset deepened behind +the Manx mountains, and from his post of observation +he again and again, in his own earnest and animated +manner, called me to his side.</p> + +<p>Chess—that recreation which seemed ever to have the +effect on his mind which exercise out of doors has on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +jaded frame—was then resorted to; and having found an +antagonist, he went down into the saloon for a game. +As we were passing the light-house at the northern extremity +of the Isle of Man, which he had expressed a +great wish to see, I called him up. After watching it +for a minute he went down again, remarking the game +would soon be finished.</p> + +<p>In order that neither lady should be left alone, particularly +as one was in delicate health, it was arranged +that he should take a berth in the gentlemen's cabin, +and his daughter and I have a small cabin to ourselves, +our cabin and his being as near as possible.</p> + +<p>The last lady who remained above besides myself +was the niece of Dr. Burns. We had very agreeable +conversation. She had taken the trip many times, and +I anticipated the pleasure my husband would have, +when we met at the breakfast-table in the morning, in +making so pleasant and intelligent an acquaintance.</p> + +<p>When we parted for the night, between eleven and +twelve o'clock, I went down into the saloon to make a +few arrangements for the morning, and, half afraid lest +a sudden diversion of his ideas should lose my husband +the honour of victory, was just beginning some little +apology for the interruption, when he looked up with a +smile, that said, "you are no interruption," and replied +"I am coming directly." I returned on deck only for +a short time, when, thinking it better to retire, and +finding beds were making up in the saloon for the night, +I called the steward and committed his dressing case to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +his keeping. Oh, that I had waited! but had I, I should +have lost that blessed promise of speedy re-union as the +last words I ever heard from him.</p> + +<p>My husband had more than once said to me, "Do not +undress," and to that, under the providence of God, I +believe Lilla and I owed our safety. I fell asleep about +twelve o'clock. When the shock came, and the working +of the engines, which even in one's sleep was heard, +suddenly ceased, we were instantly aroused; and, looking +at my watch to see the hour, in order to have some +known fact by which to collect oneself, I found it was +a quarter past one a.m. I jumped down from the +berth, and, after hastily swallowing a little brandy and +water that happened to be in the cabin, to check the +sudden sick feeling of fright, put on bonnet and cloak, +and went on deck to learn what was the matter, first +calling at my husband's cabin door to see if he were +there. The gentlemen assured me he was up and gone, +and knowing, as I did, his intention of not undressing, +and his quick habit of movement, I was satisfied that I +should find him on deck. He was not there, at least +not on the after-deck, where we had been together. +All hands had evidently rushed to the fore-part of the +vessel, whence the alarm came, and doubtless he had +gone there at once, to ascertain what was the matter +before he alarmed us. Persons on deck said we were +too near land, had run a-ground, but should be off +presently. The light at the harbour was distinctly seen +rather behind us, to our right; as was the high ground<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +above Port Patrick, apparently a very little distance off; +while the fog concealed the promontory right a-head of +us, against which we must have dashed in a few moments, +had we not struck at the time we did. I went down +again to tell Lilla that they said there was no danger, +but at the same time assisted her to throw a few things +hastily on, and then went on deck. In the meantime +my husband had not come to us. I went to his cabin +door again, to ask if he were there; but the inmates +were in such confusion they could give me no answer. +Returning up the gang-way again, I met the steward, +and stood some minutes under the lamp, while he looked +down his way-bill, to ascertain that I was right in my +husband's number. He assured me that we should get +off. On deck once again, I perceived that the vessel +inclined much more, that the fore-part had sunk considerably: +the noise and confusion were all there. The +after-deck was comparatively free from persons; a few, +indeed, were trying to lower one of the boats. We +walked about, looking for my husband, who was, I +have now no doubt, entangled among the crowd of +persons in the fore-part, where most of the two hundred +on board had run. He must have been almost the first +on deck; others rushed after him in that direction: a +rope—the slightest thing catching the weak leg—would +throw him down, and, with the noise and confusion, +which at any time would have been bewildering, it must +have been impossible for him to disentangle himself. +What hindered me from running down into the crowd to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +look for him, I know not, unless it were the persuasion +that he would instinctively come to the spot where we +had been together, as I had done; the expectation each +moment that he would come seemed to fill my mind: it +never once occurred to me that he might be in greater +danger than ourselves. Only the conviction that the +will of God was done can prevent the mind from +agonizing longings for that night to come over again, +were it a thousand times, for the merest chance of trying +to save him.</p> + +<p>The vessel was perceptibly going down in the fore-part, +when the captain jumped on the skylight, and +assured the passengers that if they could remain in the +vessel they would be saved. This seemed probable, as +the shore boats were seen in the twilight putting towards +us; but, alas! we were now too rapidly sinking +to allow of their near approach. The vessel lurched +gradually towards the shore. We had placed ourselves +on the part which, from the position of the ship, would +be longest above water, with the foot resting on the +ledge, where we had so happily stood in the afternoon. +It enabled us to grasp a rope which came down from +the mizen-mast to the edge of the vessel, and there +awaited her going down, which I now saw was inevitable. +We felt the power of God could save us, if such +were His will, or His mercy receive us to Himself: it +was not a new thing to approach Him, or to resign +ourselves into His hands; it was no strange God, but +our long-loved Father in Heaven, before whom we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +were about to appear. So we rested with calm confidence +on that most blessed assurance, "Him that +cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out," and committed +ourselves to our Saviour's hands.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes, a sudden hissing excited fears of +an explosion, and we sank immediately, the hot water +rushing up to us as we went down. Rising again, before +my head was above water, I felt something at the +back of my hand: I instinctively grasped it—it was a +rope. A moment after I was on the surface. I exchanged +the rope for a spar, and turning round my head +to ask for Lilla, found, to my inexpressible joy, she +was close behind me, just as we had sunk. This cheered +us both with hope of eventual safety. But where was +one far dearer? I grasped with my left hand one of +those fenders made of netted cords, which are used to +prevent ships coming into too close contact with each +other, or with the harbour; but it was hard work to +keep up. We encouraged each other, and, recollecting +that the human body is lighter than the same bulk of +water, we tried to float; but this was no easy matter. +The number of persons struggling in the water agitated +it, and in the endeavour to keep it out of the ears by +raising the head, the equilibrium was disturbed, and the +feet sank, and with that the dread of going down again +came. By the stopping of my watch at half-past one, +it afterwards appeared that a quarter of an hour elapsed +between the striking of the vessel and her going down, +and probably nearly as long passed between our rising<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +and our being picked up by the shore boats. It was a +work of some difficulty and time, when they came up, +to extricate us from the ropes: our benumbed limbs and +weakened frames rendered us incapable of making any +effort ourselves. "Never mind, you are come among +Christian people," was the boatman's exclamation, when +he had taken me into the boat, and never was truer +word spoken. The heart-felt sympathy and substantial +kindness we received from all classes could not have +been exceeded, and can hardly be imagined. It is +impossible to speak too strongly of the goodness and +care of kind Mrs. Hannay, who first received us, and +whose husband formed and superintended the admirable +arrangements by which so many were saved. Placed +in bed, and hot cordials being administered, the warmth +gradually returned to our benumbed limbs, and we felt +<i>we</i> were restored to life. Dear Lilla began to indulge +hope that her papa was saved too; but I felt he was +with <span class="smcap">God</span>, he was so spiritually near; and when the +ring he usually wore was brought me, the agony of that +moment only confirmed what I knew too well before. +Even the catastrophe, fearful as it was, could scarcely +be called unexpected; I felt that what I had been +looking for had come, for we had both felt we were too +happy for this world. He had himself often exclaimed +"how will all this end? it cannot last." It was a +mournful but a blessed thing to gaze again on that +beloved face, with all the glow of health upon it, and +more than a placid, a bright smile—but to part from it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +thus! Even yet I cannot associate death in the ordinary +sense with it.</p> + +<p>The first words of comfort, when we knew the extent +of our loss, were from the Rev. A. Urquhart and his +sister; and precious were their sympathy and manifold +kindness. The most deeply grateful feelings will ever +be associated with the thought of the Rev. S. Balmer, +in whose hospitable manse we remained for many days, +while Mrs. Balmer nursed us as a sister. There was +another bond between us, besides that of our common +humanity,—that of Christianity. We felt that we were +not with strangers, but with friends who shared every +feeling, that we were all looking from the same point of +view, and recognising the same hand. There were personal +links too—fellow-sufferers came in to whom my +beloved husband's works were known. On the shelves +of the manse library were those of my own venerable +relative, the late Dr. Ryland, of Bristol; and Lilla +found that her mamma's brother-in-law, the late Rev. +J. Ely, of Leeds, had been known to our host. Trifling +as such things were, they brought a feeling akin to +comfort. There is a gratification in mentioning the +names of friends to whom so much is owing, and it +would be ungrateful not to add that of Mr. and Mrs. +Hunter Blair of Dunskaie, whose proffered kindnesses +were more than the desirableness of remaining near the +shore would allow us to accept.<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> Truly were we "<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span><i>an +hungered, and ye gave us meat</i>; we were <i>thirsty, and ye +gave us drink</i>, we were <i>strangers, and ye took us in; +naked, and ye clothed us</i>; we were <i>sick, and ye visited +us</i>." Be the blessing of "those that were ready to +perish" upon them.</p> + +<p>For no kindness is gratitude so deeply felt as for that +which aided the heart's cherished wish to have those +remains, so loved and so precious, removed from beside +that ever moaning sea, where they could never have +been thought of, without all the horrors of that scene +recurring too. To his own family grave, in the burial-ground +of the Independent Chapel, Rochdale, they were +borne on Saturday the 22d; followed by members of +his family, and about forty gentlemen of the town and +neighbourhood, who thus spontaneously expressed their +sense of his loss. <i>There</i> now rests "all that could die" +of the man of high intellect, of the loved and honoured, +the loving and confiding husband.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>Farewell! a brief farewell! nay, no farewell to <i>thee</i>—<i>thou</i> +art not severed from us. Spirit as thou art, thou +still comest to live and blend with ours in the dim +twilight, and when the hum of the world is busy around +us. And when we bow in prayer to the Father of +Spirits, we feel that we are come not only to "Jesus +the Mediator," but to "the spirits of just men made +perfect," and we worship together in company. Farewell, +then, only thou beloved form, whose radiant smile +seemed to tell there had been no gathering of the darkness +of death, only a stepping from mortal into immortal +<span class="smcap">life</span>; and farewell, even to thee, only for a +season, for we know that "them that sleep in Jesus +will God bring with him." We shall yet see thee +again, and dwell with thee in eternal re-union, in a +world where the very memory of thy loss shall have +vanished, for "there shall be no more sea."</p> + +<hr style="width: 33%;" /> + +<p>The foregoing brief sketch, little more than the +enumeration of ordinary events and literary pursuits, +would alone convey a very inadequate idea of one +whose character was peculiarly his own. One of the +many definitions by which it has been attempted to +analyse the subtle nature of genius is "the power of +interpreting nature." In the case of Mr. Roby, it took +the form of art, and he laboured in her train, whether +with pen or pencil, rather than in the service of science. +Looking over the face of nature, he would catch her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +slightest hints, and transfer to his paper—not just what +met the ordinary gaze, but—a picture. As if nature +by her scattered rocks and wandering clouds, gave him +in rude symbolic language, her thought of beauty, and +as he with initiated eye, read the meaning, there +presently grew under his pencil the full interpretation, +a silent poem, which every passer by might more or less +comprehend, and enjoy.</p> + +<p>And were it the <i>voice</i> of nature that met his ear, +that voice whose floating music so few perceive, it had +as ready an interpreter. When in the social circle, or +in the busy street, the inner sense caught the inarticulate +sounds, he would note them down, and present +to others the melody which had charmed himself.</p> + +<p>And eloquently would nature speak to him of truths +pertaining to humanity; felicitously were they apprehended +and expressed, he lingering meanwhile till she +had taught all her meaning.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>said Shakespeare. The conception of a similar scene, +and, no doubt, the unrecognised remembrance of this +line, suggested,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How calm on yonder stream the moonlight sleeps."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>There a copyist would have stopped, but <i>he</i> was in close +communion with nature, listened himself to her teachings, +and learned more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How calm on yonder stream the moonlight sleeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Fair image woman of thy maiden breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Unmoved by love. Anon some vagrant breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ruffles its surface, and its pure still light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"In tremulous pulses heaves;—brighter, perchance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The feverish glitter, but its rest is o'er!"<br /></span> +<span class="i12"><i>Duke of Mantua.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The descriptions of nature in his writings are part of +this ministry of interpretation. All see, but who, beside +the gifted, can either by pen or pencil</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">"stay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yon cloud, and fix it in that glorious shape,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>permitting not</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">"the thin smoke to escape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor those bright sunbeams to forsake the day."<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth's</span> <i>Sonnets</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Our great Maker gives to some men general excellence +of parts, so as to secure success in whatever +pursuit they follow; others are more exquisitely +moulded, and receive from His hand that peculiar and +indestructible form of genius, which no external circumstances +can affect. It was that general superiority +of abilities, which would alone have secured Mr. Roby +eminence in any walk of life he had chosen; but the +mechanical routine of monetary transactions could +not prevent the artist's eye from guiding his pencil, +render the ear deaf to the latent melody, or hinder for a +moment the genius stamped as creative by its Maker +from peopling the old ruins of the Past with living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +forms of beauty or of terror. Education could no more +train mere excellence of parts to this, than any process +of progressive development raise the lower orders of +creation into the higher.</p> + +<p>Combined with the poetic fancy was a character of +high moral tone, a disposition, generous, open-hearted, +and impetuous, sensitive, and confiding; irresistibly +drawn towards the supernatural, yet as prone to +humour. That fine purity of feeling which marked his +writings, was equally a personal quality. His sense of +honour was quick, as his standard was high. Naturally +he would have preferred death itself to the slightest +shade of dishonour on his name. Faithful to the command +implied in the inspired delineation of the upright +man, it might be taken for the description of his +own course,—"he that sweareth to his own hurt and +changeth not." Incapable himself of mean or sordid +action, he never anticipated it in others; unselfish to a +degree, he perhaps calculated too much on the same +generosity of feeling in the world. The editor of the +Gentleman's Magazine, in a notice, which appeared in +October 1850, alludes to "his well-known liberality to +literary men," a reference amply confirmed by other incidental +testimony; but though literary acquaintances +were often the topic of home conversation, he never +spoke of any kindness it had been in his power to show +them. It was the highest luxury he knew, thus to +mitigate the perplexities or wants of others, but it was +only by accident that his family would discover it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +Even when he dropped money into a poor man's hand, +he would hurry away as if he had done something +wrong, and wanted to forget it.</p> + +<p>Another phase of the same disposition, was the +generous pleasure with which he regarded the gifts or +acquirements of others. Most cordially did he recognise +talent of any kind, no matter in whom, or under what +form it appeared. He was as free from envious or +jealous feeling as from common selfishness. This arose +from a fine nature,—which embraced as kindred +spirits those from whom morbid self-love might have +shrunk as rivals—not from an overweening or even +just sense of his own superiority: in that he was +unusually deficient.</p> + +<p>In truth his want of self-valuation, almost of appreciation +of his own powers, was very noticeable. He +would exercise his talents, as a bird does its power of +song, for very pleasure, but without any thought of +display. "I know," he would say, "that many others +cannot do the things I do, but I do not feel as if I had +done anything worth thinking of, it falls so far below +the point I wish to reach." His delight in giving +pleasure supplied this want of the Phrenologist's <i>Self-esteem</i>, +as regarded others, but to himself, the lack of it, +joined to his extremely sensitive disposition, was in fact +a destitution of defensive armour; hence it was in the +power of minds far inferior to his own to torture him. +A similar deficiency was the absence of that worldly +wisdom, which in combination with a fine and generous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +disposition, is so valuable to its possessors. The deprivation +of it occasioned a transparent simplicity of +character, which again left him too often at the mercy +of coarse ungenerous natures.</p> + +<p>That intense yearning for sympathy, which was +noticed as a characteristic of his childhood, followed him +through life, and seemed to increase with his years. His +many resources, though capable of yielding the purest +pleasure, could not fill the void. They concealed the +longing from observers, but left the heart often aching. +Frank and confiding himself, he looked for the same +frankness in others. The slightest reserve chilled and +wounded him, and threw him back on himself. "An +unkind word or look," he would frequently say, "nay a +chilling one, from those I respect and esteem, is misery +to me." His happiness was indeed a delicate thing, for +though the writer can say she never knew any one +made happy with so little effort—the very <i>wish</i> to +make him so, evinced, was enough—yet she often felt, +and trembled to feel, how intensely miserable it was in +the power of any one he loved, to make him.</p> + +<p>His natural vivacity concealed another feature of his +character from the general eye, which was yet discernible +by those who studied him. "Spare me," said he one +day to a lady, half jocosely, "I am so shy." "You +shy!" she exclaimed, protesting against the possibility +of such a thing. He quietly acquiesced, and let it +pass. "You would not think that I was naturally shy," +said he a few days after to a friend who had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +present, with whom he was now engaged in a pleasant +little disquisition on psychology, and who, he afterwards +allowed, knew more of his real character from a +few months' acquaintance than any one had done before. +"Yes I should," was her unhesitating reply. "Why, +how should you think so!" he exclaimed in astonishment. +"Your attitudes and movements betray it. I +do not say as Robert Hall did of an acquaintance, +that you seem begging pardon of all men for being +in existence, but you do often seem begging pardon of +your company for being in their presence, when they +are only too happy to have your society. You would +creep into a nutshell, rather than be where you thought +you were not wanted."</p> + +<p>Not an uncommon, but a pleasing trait, was that humanity +to the animal creation which marked him from +boyhood. Not only did he never "heedlessly" set "foot +upon a worm," but he would carefully remove it from +the path, lest some other foot should crush it. Cruelty +of any kind called forth his strongest reprehension.</p> + +<p>One great charm of his character, was its perfect +retention of the freshness of youth. The most juvenile +in the company could not but feel that he was as young +in spirit as themselves. His regular and temperate +habits of life no doubt contributed to this, as did his +love of simple pleasures. He never sought the false +excitement of artificial stimulants. His own buoyancy +of spirits, and ever-varied pursuits, most of all perhaps +the exhilaration of botanical "field sports," were the true<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +stimulants which fed the flame of life, while they made +it burn more brightly. Even in those years when the +smile or quick repartee often only concealed, but could +not remove, the secret care or the unsatisfied craving +for some undefined blessing, that preyed within, the +change to a new pursuit, or a fresh path for thought +and energy, were the only means to which he had recourse +"to keep the mind from preying on itself."</p> + +<p>To those who knew him best it is easy to trace much +of his personal character in his writings. His social +disposition, and particularly this freshness of spirit, +gave a tone to all he wrote. The high ideal of woman +maintained in the "Traditions," has been already noticed: +he was quick to perceive fragmentary indications of that +ideal, in real life. True to Haydon's motto which he so +often quoted, "Ex pede Hercules," one trait of disinterestedness, +of self-sacrifice, of intuitive perception of the +good, was sufficient, and his imagination therefrom +created,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A perfect woman, nobly plann'd."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A nice observer of the indications of character, he +detected, with a quickness approaching to intuition, those +little peculiarities of manner and expression which +intimate the disposition and habit of thought, and often +after a very brief acquaintance, he would by a few +touches draw a mental portrait to the life, yet without +the slightest approach to caricature, which he would have +abhorred as deformity. This habit of close observation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +and quick perception contributed to the variety and +individuality of his delineations. He was remarkably +susceptible of impressions, hence he was open to influences +which others escape. A very unpleasing expression +of countenance would act upon him so strongly, that he +would go far out of his way to avoid it. In a similar +manner, certain appearances of the clouds in an electrical +state of the atmosphere would from childhood impress +him painfully, even at times with a sentiment almost +akin to horror; and this in spite of a constitution, over +which the state of the weather ordinarily had no +power; the spirit seemed directly operated on through +the eye.</p> + +<p>One of his strongest natural tendencies, which had +considerable influence in the creations of his fancy, was +a love of the supernatural. Nothing contented him till +he had traced it up to that subtle point where spiritual +relations begin. "Why should such a thing affect us +thus?" was the question which he delighted to ask +himself. To his mind, as indeed to all thoughtful ones, +the mysterious was the element into which all the phenomena +of life resolved themselves. And there he took +his stand, watching before the veil, if perchance some +hand from within would lift its folds. The mutual +relations of mind and matter, the secret sympathies of +spirit, and the extent of its independence of sense, were +chosen topics of thought. The enlarged views of these +subjects which modern science is opening before us, at +once indicating the direction of future inquiry, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +retrospectively interpreting the wildest records of the +past, thus resolving romance into reality, had especial +charm for him. The reverse of credulous, he would +subject a fact to close investigation, before he gave it +credence, but at the same time a latent affinity with +the supernatural, if the expression be allowed, drew him +to it: hence astrology attracted him, but after close +study, he gave it up for various reasons, principally +that a kind of Christian instinct, which will often +advance when the understanding stops short, warned +him off, by a sentiment, of approaching forbidden +ground.</p> + +<p>Mr. Roby was a striking instance of how far literary +pursuits may be followed without neglect of the duties +of life. "Literature to a man who must have a profession" +observes Sir Walter Scott, "should be the recreation +not the serious business of life." Mr. Roby's +success in his profession was such as to lead another +banker of eminence—not prejudiced by the tie of private +friendship—to term him the first accountant in Europe. +Bearing in mind the pursuits of him of whom the remark +was made, it proves that a successful career as an author, +is not incompatible with eminence in the ordinary business +of life. A strength of moral purpose, which would not +allow pleasant occupation to infringe on the prior +claims of duty, and which led him inflexibly to follow +the course he had laid down as right, gave force to a +character that else might have been deemed too brilliant +for every-day wear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>One remarkable endowment that must have contributed +to his success in his own walk in life, was a +power he possessed of determining the amount of any +sum of figures that might be laid before him. The +friend an extract from whose letter was given on p. <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, +thus alludes to this faculty. "If a double column, +twenty figures in each row, or a cube of six, arranged +as below, were placed before him, he would tell the sum +as soon as his eye could read the figures.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> 1 2 5 4 9 1<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> 5 3 9 8 1 9<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> 6 9 1 2 2 9<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> 7 8 2 7 9 2<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> 3 7 4 7 8 4<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> 4 6 3 6 1 3<br /></span> +<span class="i0">--------------------<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He arrived at the result without going through the +ordinary process; he saw it at a glance. If, as was +rarely the case, owing to a passing fit of dulness, or a +momentary distraction of thought, he failed to see the +sum at once, he was rather slow than otherwise in +doing it by the ordinary mode. Mr. Roby himself told +me, that Bidder, perhaps the most wonderful calculator +this country ever produced, though his superior in some +points, could not approach him here."</p> + +<p>Their respective powers must have been the result +of two different faculties. In "the calculating boy," it +was extraordinary rapidity of <i>calculation</i>. In Mr. Roby<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +it was not calculation at all, but <i>combination</i>. He read +and combined the figures into a whole, as we should +read the word <span class="smcap">comparison</span>, for instance, without spelling +it; the power of the figures in the one case, being +equivalent to that of the letters in the other. Perhaps +the extraordinary strength and activity of his perceptive +faculties, combined with considerable talent for the +science of number, may account for it: the rapidity +of his perceptions was at all times marvellous. He had +not trained himself to this exercise, nor was it a faculty +at all improved by use. He found out accidentally one +day that he possessed it, and it never varied afterwards. +The writer is not aware that he practised to any extent +what is termed mental arithmetic. Yet some extraordinary +calculations he made with a pack of cards, by +a process carried on in his mind, which, if put on paper +would have covered many sheets, appears to have been +of that nature. In all such matters which depended on +numerical arrangement, he was quite <i>au fait</i>. On +one occasion he saw a lady perform a trick called Sir +Isaac Newton's. She declined showing how it was +done, and avowed herself unacquainted with the principle +on which the arrangement was founded. He +went home, lay for hours awake during the night, +worked all the cards in the pack over and over again +mentally; before morning he had not only discovered +the arrangement, but extended the principle so as to be +applicable, not to twenty-seven cards only, but to any +number within the fifty-two.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>Punctuality was another marked feature of Mr. +Roby's character. He was, to use his own phrase, "a +timist." An amusing instance of this occurs in his +tour. "Whilst resting and enjoying our cheer (at the +Hospice Tête Noir) I surprised Urlaub the courier, by +telling him I had fixed three or four months previously +to cross the Tête Noir on this very day, and on this +very hour, showing him a sketch of my tour as given +in the introductory chapter. He said it would serve +him to tell and boast about all his life, he could not +have thought it possible; 'but,' continued he with +great simplicity, 'I am sure they cannot believe me!'" +Other instances equally diverting he would tell, till +even punctuality itself lost its sober character, and +became tinged with mirth, if not romance.</p> + +<p>His love of order and arrangement was very great: +it almost amounted to a passion. As soon as a botanical +or conchological work came into his hands, he made +himself master of its contents, and drew out a tabular +view of the information it afforded, a mode of arranging +knowledge of which he was particularly fond, enriching +the book with what might be wanting, and with references +to other standard works. To those who are commencing +such pursuits, a little more detail may perhaps +afford some useful hints. In Lee's botany of the Malvern +Hills, are added, in a beautifully distinct small +hand, to each plant named, a reference to the page of +Hooker's British Flora, on which it is described, and +the month of flowering; while on blank leaves inserted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +at the end for the purpose, a list is given of all the plants +according to the time at which they flower, thus forming +a flora for each month in that district, to guide his +search in each day's ramble. In his copies of Sowerby's +English Botany and Hooker's Flora, respectively, to +each plant the page on which it is to be found in the +other work, its number in the London Catalogue, and +synonymes from either of these or from any other high +authority are added, with a mark against each successive +specimen added to his own herbarium. His mode +of laying down and preserving specimens for a progressive +collection of British plants, often excited the +admiration of other collectors. His cabinet of shells, +too, was arranged in his own perfect manner. Yet with +all this order there was nothing merely mechanical in +his character, nothing that hindered the free play of +his imagination.</p> + +<p>The medical profession had at one period been contemplated +for him, and his studies for a short time lay +in that direction. For physiological investigations he +always entertained a decided partiality. Hence no +doubt his ready appreciation of the general principles +of hydropathy; he saw and approved the rationale of +the system, before he so successfully tested its practice. +He had cultivated that general knowledge of the +physical sciences which enabled him to trace their +mutual relations. He dwelt with peculiar delight on +their points of intersection, where the mysterious connection +which is ever running underground, as it were,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +throughout nature, rises to the surface. His industry +and perseverance equalled the activity of his mind, and +the versatility of his talents. Concentrating his attention +on one subject for the time, when he left it he +would turn with the same fixed concentration to another; +and the ease with which he resumed any design or +train of thought, however long it had been laid aside, +prevented his losing ground that had once been gained. +The quickness with which he acquired knowledge was +remarkable; while the use he would make of a new +discovery or of fresh light cast on an old subject, by +way of illustration, by elucidating kindred truths in +other sciences, or by indicating discoveries yet to be +made, was most happy. Nothing seemed lost upon +him: a fact became to him something more than a bare +fact, an index of the ideal, or of the hidden paths to +those mysterious relations of nature, which it has been +observed were such favourite objects of contemplation. +By no means what is termed a great reader, he usually +preferred scientific works to those of general literature. +He seemed not to care to follow the imaginations of +others; he rather required facts as material for his own +to revel in, and create from. Genius must touch the +earth to gather strength for her flights.</p> + +<p>His love of the fine arts partook of the enthusiasm of +his nature. His taste was highly cultivated, and his +own proficiency in several branches of art, of no mean +order. He loved to dwell on the subtle and mysterious +meanings of music, on its wondrous suggestive power,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +and its burden of associations. A few specimens of his +own power of creating "concord of sweet sounds," have +been preserved. He was particularly happy in adapting +the music to the words or <i>vice versâ</i>. Sometimes he +would compose an air to one of his own songs. Very +few of these compositions have had the care bestowed +on them necessary to prepare them for publication. +One which was harmonised by Mr. Novello, and published +in the Congregational and Chorister's Psalm and +Hymn Book, will appear in the present volume. It is +a fair specimen of the composer's power of expressing +the higher feelings.</p> + +<p>His facility of versification one may almost be +tempted to regret. He would have written better, and +perhaps oftener, had he gone to it as a more severe +task—yet there are some lines of such exquisite +music and sentiment, the inspiration of the moment, +in his occasional pieces, which no gathering up of +his powers could have enabled him to reach. The +ballads in the traditions afford illustrations of this +remark.</p> + +<p>Mr. Roby's skill as a draughtsman was often the +admiration of his friends. His landscape drawings +from nature even when they are faithful as portraits +are always <i>pictures</i>. His fondness for investigation, +the "Inquisitive wants to know" of childhood aided +him here. He was never satisfied until he had found +out the reason why an object takes a known appearance +under given circumstances, or why certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +processes or touches, transfer certain effects. The +writer recollects his mentioning a conversation with +the late B. R. Haydon in which the point under +discussion was, why when an object is presented +against the sky, for example the belly of a horse +standing on an eminence, the sky where it approaches +the object, though in point of fact as blue there as in +any other part, should not be so represented, but in a +dim grey, almost neutral tint. (The reader will at +once perceive, that the blue sky and black horse would +be a tea-tray painting.) The discussion terminated +without any satisfactory result, but Mr. Roby could +not rest till he had found the true reason in the simple +fact, that the eye suiting its focus to the distance of +the object to which it is directed, <i>can not distinctly see, +at the same time, objects at different distances</i>. When +the focus was right for the horse, it would only perceive +the sky indistinctly, or directed to the sky, the +retina would not receive so distinct an image of the +horse. Hence if both were represented exactly as +they are in themselves, instead of as they are seen in +combination, a harsh, unnatural, and therefore false +picture would be the result.</p> + +<p>His conversation on art was rich in such remarks. +A lady who drew in water colours from nature in a +superior style observed to the writer, that she had +gained more valuable information from Mr. Roby +than from any of the best masters of whom she had +been in the habit of taking lessons: he had put her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +into possession of <i>principles</i>. Another friend, who was +in raptures with Ruskin's "Modern Painters," described +it as "like hearing Mr. Roby talk." And here again, +in art as in science, he delighted to seek out those +general principles, which, common to all, constitute +the oneness of Art, and to trace their relation to the +human mind.</p> + +<p>To his ardent admiration of nature reference has +already been made. That term but partially conveys +an idea of his quick and vivid perception of beauty +under whatever form it appeared, and of the intense +pleasure, one might almost say happiness, of which he +was susceptible from it. His spirit seemed to feed +upon it as Schiller's Pegasus on the breath of flowers. +He would stand entranced before a beautiful object +or hang over it as if by some spell he could draw its +beauty into his own soul. It seemed as though for +pleasure or suffering his mind was in close contact +with the <i>spirit</i> of outward things. Nor was this high +gratification, a thing of rare occurrence. One of +Hogarth's lines of Beauty, so abundantly scattered +through his world who has eyes to see them, sufficed. +He possessed too in a high degree the power of imparting +to others the pleasure he thus enjoyed. His +enthusiasm caught by sympathy communicated in +part to his companions the vividness of his own impressions. +A friend, herself most highly gifted, in +writing of him says, "What true pleasure I feel in +recalling the beauties and excellencies of his character,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +in tracing through all his gifts, the upward tendency +of his mind which ever looked</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'From Nature up to Nature's <span class="smcap">God</span>,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>which sought His glory in all the pursuits of science—not +<i>earthly</i> but <i>heavenly</i> pursuits to him—a mind +to which was not denied the power to gaze along any +one of those shining paths, which unite our mortal +with our immortal nature, to which music, and poetry, +and art and science opened their divinest treasures, +fitting his nature for the immortal joys they whisper +of here!"</p> + +<p>It has been occasionally regretted that his powers +were directed to so many objects instead of being +concentrated, so as to secure higher excellence in one +department. And truly were this short life all man's +existence, the end of his progress, and "earthly immortality" +the only "life beyond this," then it might be +to be deplored, if aught would be worth deploring. +But regret vanishes when we consider that in this +case there were only so many more starting points, +for the soul in her higher state of existence, already +made out in this life.</p> + +<p>Talents so versatile, it may be believed rendered +their possessor the ornament of general society. They +were at the same time combined with exterior advantages, +graceful movement resulting from a well-proportioned +and finely-moulded form, elegant manner, +so much vivacity, and withal so much gentleness—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +graceful courtesies of life well became him. His +conversational powers were seldom equalled. He +had always the right word at command whatever +might be the topic, while the ever-varying tones of +his musical voice lent additional force to every sentiment +whether mirthful or pathetic. Information, +anecdote, humour were by turns elicited. It was +easy, as it was pleasant, to converse with him; he +never misapprehended; he seemed to know what others +were going to say, their ideas were his, and the prompt +rejoinder made, by a kind of social electricity. Conversation +never flagged when he was present; a sullen +silence was his abhorrence; equally so, a monotonous +abuse of the weather, roads, &c. His never-failing +humour, and love of pleasantry or kind-hearted banter, +supplied the place of Rousseau's expedient of weaving +lace-strings, when in company where it was difficult, +if not impossible to maintain conversation that would +interest the whole party. If occasionally his repartees +gave offence, no one was more ready to apologise +or to atone to any feeling that had been wounded. +In truth, nothing was farther from his intention than +giving pain, but his love of humour once excited, he +did not pause to look from another's point of view. +It was as impossible for him to refrain from enjoying +a joke if it told against himself, as if it bore on another—in +fact, if it were really a good one, the being +pointed against himself seemed rather to enhance the +piquancy. So conscious was he of the absence of any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +ill-natured feeling, that it was difficult for him to +realize how any one could be hurt by those sallies which, +coming from another, he would perfectly understand. +A lady who was often the subject of his sportive +railleries, observed, that no one who saw the kind +expression of his eye could feel wounded. It was +after a time of close mental application that his +sportive qualities came out the most strongly; it +seemed to be a necessary relief, and the rebound +involved mirthfulness in many of its innocent forms. +Practical jokes he never allowed either in himself or +others; nor did his humour ever degenerate into +mimicry, or amusement at the expense of the absent; +delicacy of feeling forbad that. A sharp contest of +wits such as he designated "cut and come again" was +his great delight. D'Israeli the elder remarks, "One +peculiar trait in the conversation of men of genius +which has often injured them, when the listeners +were not intimately acquainted with the man, are +certain sports of a vacant mind, a sudden impulse to +throw out opinions and take views of things in some +humour of the moment." Something akin to this +Mr. Roby occasionally indulged in, if he perceived +that any one had formed a false idea of his character, +which was not unfrequently the case, he would find +a passing diversion in helping on the mistake. How +this comported with that yearning for sympathy, which +was one of the master passions of his nature, it is +not difficult to explain. Finding out by intuition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +where he was not understood, he sought in the amusement +of watching the effect of the character thus +thrust upon him, on those who had given it, a refuge +from the pain which the discovery of the utter absence +of sympathy could not but inflict. Afford him but +a ray of this coveted sympathy, and you made his +happiness, and your own by reflection. Intercourse +with the world had taught him how rarely the finer +feelings or higher sentiments are responded to, and +a shrinking from their exposure in his own case led +him to conceal them under the light robe of pleasantry. +Hence he was sometimes suspected of want of earnestness +by those who, as D'Israeli remarks, "were not +intimately acquainted with the man."</p> + +<p>His fund of general information contributed to the +charm of his conversational powers, for with him +knowledge was as ready to hand as it was various. +It seemed to spring spontaneously at the sight of any +thing with which it could be associated. Memory +while she held her treasures with a firm hand, generously +shared them with the companion of the walk +or the acquaintance of the social hour. At the same +time there was no assumption, no affectation of superiority +in his manner: it was perfectly natural and +simple.</p> + +<p>Possessing great musical talent, a fine ear, and the +power of modulating his voice so as to blend with +others, and the still rarer gift of composing a part +extempore to any melody, his assistance was sought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +as a valuable acquisition in social music. Before his +illness his whistle was singularly rich, and he frequently +used it as an accompaniment. The writer +never heard it; but a gentleman referring to an evening +spent in his society many years since, thus describes it, +"I never heard human whistle so clear, so distinct, +and brilliant: it was like a flute."<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></p> + +<p>Perhaps what he was in general society may be +best shown by the impression he made on acquaintances +of various tastes and habits whom from time to +time he casually met. Among the many tributes of +respect to his memory and to "his sterling qualities +both of heart and mind," which the writer has received, +one or two may be selected bearing on the +salient points of his character. A recent friend, who +with his lady were the last guests who were staying +with him before he left Malvern for Scotland, +writes, "I cannot let this opportunity pass without +offering my humble tribute of respect to your late +husband's memory. My acquaintance with Mr. Roby +was, as you are aware, of brief duration, but I can +most unaffectedly, and with sincere gratitude say, that +during that period, I learned much of him—more than +I ever learned in my life from any single person. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +was impossible to be with him without catching something +of his earnestness and enthusiasm. Would he +had been spared! His death was a severe loss to me. +I had hoped to enjoy his society during the coming +summer, to mature in his company those tastes which, +if he did not infuse into me, he certainly roused from +their dormancy. But this was not to be! Like all +who ever came into contact with him, I was struck, +on my introduction to Mr. Roby, by the variety of +his acquirements, then by their elegant intellectual +character. His energy in the acquisition of knowledge +had amassed a great store of material for intellectual +enjoyment—his wonderful "<i>order</i>" had arranged it in +the happiest and most available manner. I think I +never in my life saw a man of greater mental activity. +<i>He had no lounging moments.</i> And yet I saw but the +<i>relaxation</i> of his mind."</p> + +<p>One who knew him intimately the last two years +of his life remarks, "Few persons I should imagine +could have been in Mr. Roby's society without feeling +a peculiar charm, a gladdening influence, which made +life appear bright and genial. Intercourse with him, +invariably gave me a sense of power: this made me +from the first recognise him as a man of genius. A +magician in the regions of the ideal himself, he +seemed to inspire his listener with the same mastery +over its elements. Whatever might be the topic +under notice, it stood out with new beauty as he +handled it. His conversation, enriched from a thousand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +sources, sparkled like the many facets of the well-cut +diamond."</p> + +<p>A very old friend who ranks among the first +dramatists of the day in speaking of intercourse in +years long since departed, characterised him as "a +man of rich imagination, and the warmest and soundest +heart." Adding in confirmation of the latter trait, +"I was a perfect stranger when he received me as a +brother, and took on himself the entire management of a +course of lectures which I delivered in Rochdale several +years ago, and which proved to be very remunerative +chiefly through his cordially-exerted influence."</p> + +<p>Another in writing of him, after dwelling with +affectionate admiration on other traits of character, +notices "his great good nature and kindness of heart, +particularly the good-humoured manner in which he +bore the expression of opinions different from his own, +which by many would not have been taken so patiently. +The extreme versatility of his talents placed +at his command, acquirements the most varied, such +as few persons attain to, and his kind and agreeable +manner of imparting the knowledge he possessed was +equally remarkable. His talent and exquisite humour +in relating one of his stories or an old tradition, I +can scarcely imagined to have been equalled."</p> + +<p>Several friends have remarked that during their last +interview with him, the conversation turned to the +highest subjects, in some cases terminating by a short +striking remark on his part, too valuable to be forgotten. +A slight instance of this occurred in his last conversation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +with the friend just quoted. It happened to be on a +subject often discussed before,—art in connection with +religion as exemplified in the fine old ecclesiastical +structures of our country. No one possessed a deeper +sense of their beauty than himself, but his mind at the +same time comprehended the possibility of losing sight +of the spiritual in admiration of the material, and at the +close of the conversation, his last words were, "Well +good bye, remember <i>we must not worship wood and +stone</i>." The aptness of the remark, the tone in which +it was uttered, fixed it in the memory of the listener, +and it is now treasured as a parting warning. There is +a sacred pleasure in dwelling on conversations like +these, involving high moral truths, elements of the intercourse +yet to be renewed.</p> + +<p>It was always in a circle narrower than that of +general society, that he was seen to most advantage. +When he felt he was surrounded only by those of congenial +tastes he came out truly himself. His conversation +then flowed without any restraint, he blended the +ideal with the real in a way that showed a spirit gifted</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To pierce the mist o'er life's deep meanings spread."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A distinguished essayist of the present century compares +himself to those toys which we sometimes see +formed of box within box. His outer character he +tells us was visible to all; to friends in proportion to +their intimacy he threw off case after case; the sight of +the innermost was reserved for himself, or for only one +other. So here too was a narrower circle within that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +of closest friendship, where one more covering cast +aside, his character displayed itself without any reserve. +What he might have been to the <i>valet</i> "who looked at +him with valet eyes," the writer knows not, but by +one to whom that character was bared as to none +besides, so far from seeming any less from the intimate +acquaintance of daily life, its true nobleness was only +then fully recognised. It is not every character that +bears the near scrutiny afforded by insight through the +little things of life. Fewer still grow "right worshipful" +under such inspection. <i>He</i> did both. His feelings +repressed, as we have seen in childhood, he had not been +in the habit of expressing them freely to the objects of +his affection. The writer learned far more of the +strength of his love for his children, from remarks he +made when alone with her, and from the regard he paid +to the effect which any step he took might have on +their welfare, than from any ordinary demonstrations +to them. The anxiety he evinced during the first +holidays his boys spent with her, that she should understand +them, and the pains he took to draw out the +most interesting points of their characters, told more +forcibly than words, his concern for their happiness. +Though he rarely joined in their amusements himself, +yet the quiet delight with which he would stand and +watch when she happened to do anything of the kind +showed how dear even their pleasures were to him.</p> + +<p>It has been a common reproach against literary men, +that they are undesirable companions in private life,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +prone to betray unworthy jealousy of the talents of +those around them; though brilliant in society, fretful +or unsocial at home. Here was one more added to the +many examples of the contrary. Neither mirth nor +talents, courtesy nor generous feeling, nor any thing +that adorns or makes life happy, was reserved like +holiday attire for going abroad. One who though +admitting he could not brook defeat at his favourite +chess, from any other lady, would yet say he should +have lost the game to his wife with pleasure, because he +should feel her triumph his own, could not have been +an undesirable home companion.</p> + +<p>It is by trifles such as these, that what the gifted are +in private life is seen. That it may not invariably be +thus is admitted, but the solution is easy. Fireside +happiness depends not on the presence or absence of +talent, but on the harmony of natural disposition, character, +and taste. Genius neither commands this, nor +can supply its deficiency. It only renders its possessor +more keenly alive to the want of congeniality, and +those around perchance more wretched from the conscious +lack of power to make its happiness. The man of +genius may not only make home the most blessed spot +on earth, but with the blessing of <span class="smcap">God</span> give a brilliancy +and an intensity to domestic happiness, which none +besides can; peopling the wastes of every day life, with +bright thoughts that never die, till little is left of +mortal existence, that is not to be continued in the +higher life to come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>But there were yet higher endowments—talents are +but as the beautiful lamp, spiritual life the light they +enshrine; and when that light glows with an intensity, +that throws out the fair form, and exquisitely-moulded +figures, till the very lamp becomes brilliant, a light-giving +thing, then indeed is it a vessel "fit for the +Master's use," to the glory of His name whose <i>workmanship</i> +the lamp is, but whose <i>breath</i> the light within. +And that to all the rich gifts already described, was +added that which is pre-eminently <span class="smcap">the gift of god</span>, +even "Eternal Life through Christ Jesus our Lord," +is the point of deepest interest. Taught as we have +seen by the discipline of suffering, his were the convictions +of experience, not those of the understanding +merely; he felt throughout his whole nature, his utter +powerlessness to erect himself into a consciously virtuous +being, and he felt as strongly that in the salvation +of Christ alone was that which at once bringing pardon +and imparting holiness, meets all the deep-seated wants +of our nature, and raises us to the dignity of "sons and +daughters of the Lord Almighty." With a heart +thrilling to its very centre with a sense of unutterable +need, he clung to the promises of the Gospel. And as +time advanced and the hidden life grew stronger, and +daily intercourse united the spirit more closely to <span class="smcap">God</span> +as its Father, through faith in Christ Jesus, his character +assumed more and more of the likeness of that +blessed state which it has now entered. Deep humility +and self-distrust habitually marked his religion. In a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +letter dated April 1849, after detailing a circumstance +which occurred during a short stay at Clifton, very +gratifying to him as an author, he adds "I may say all +this to <i>you</i> because you understand me.... But I +feel it is not safe to <i>indulge</i> in it. A momentary glance +at one's position—and then back again into the only +safe place,—low at the Master's feet in love and humiliation, +'What hast thou, that thou hast not received?'" +"I am so afraid of <i>myself</i>" was an expression he often +used in the most intimate conversation. He felt it was +only by the daily impartation of a strength greater than +his own, that spiritual life was sustained. All those +sentiments in the inspired writings, which ordinarily to +the men of the world, are either mysteries or meaningless +phrases, now comprehended in the fulness of their +truth, had become the utterances of his own soul. +"The life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the +<span class="smcap">Son</span> of <span class="smcap">God</span>, who loved me and gave Himself for me." +He went to the scriptures for his code of morality, as +well as for the promise of the life to come. Never +under any circumstances did he shrink from performing +what he considered to be Christian duty, or from avowing +what he believed to be religious truth. The tone +of Cowper's hymns harmonised more with the prevailing +cast of his mind than that of any other sacred lyrics. +Those of them which are to be found in Lady Huntingdon's +collection, were associated with his earliest +recollections, and when his spirit was all unconsciously +preparing itself for a speedy and unlooked-for summons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +into the immediate presence of <span class="smcap">God</span>, the strains of the +poet, who so emphatically learned "in suffering" what +he taught "in song," cheered and animated one kindred +in spirit, as in faith. There is something pleasant in +the thought that the strains which his mother might +have sung by his cradle, were the latest given forth +by his own rich voice.</p> + +<p>While lowliness of mind before God, and a constant +desire to serve his fellow-men, were perhaps the most +conspicuous features of his religious character, the over-flowings +of a grateful spirit must not be overlooked. +Thanksgiving formed an essential part of his religion; +neither the simple pleasures nor the richer blessings +of life were lost upon him. Day by day he seemed +as though he would never be thankful enough. His +recognition of the hand of <span class="smcap">God</span> in all he enjoyed +was very vivid.</p> + +<p>How far back the religious element of his character +may be traced, it is impossible to say. The human +mind is susceptible of the fear of <span class="smcap">God</span>, and doubtless +the actions may be modified thereby, long before any +distinct consecration to his service, or, which must +ordinarily precede it, that true self-knowledge which +makes the need of a Saviour felt. That best of +blessings the example of a Christian life in his parents, +was around his earliest days, so that his first ideas +of right and wrong must have taken a Christian tone. +And that as he rose into life, the claims of a Creator +and Saviour on his love and service occupied his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +attention, the writer is aware. Never indeed will be +forgotten the intensity of feeling with which, within +the last twelvemonths of his life he would sometimes +refer to one among his youthful associates, who at that +early period encouraged him in the practice of spiritual +duties. He knew what a life passed amid the stir of +the world was, how the hot noon dries up the current +of early feeling, and the thorns of care choke the +hidden life; and vivid anxiety for his friend's spiritual +state, mingled with the grateful remembrance of forty +years ago. A sentiment which now burst forth fresher +than ever, because he knew as he had never done before, +from what the salvation of <span class="smcap">God</span> is a deliverance.</p> + +<p>His sympathy for others in a religious point of +view was very strong; the deep pity, amounting to +personal grief, which he has expressed in intimate +conversation, when speaking of any whose life or +avowed principles, testified they were "without hope, +and without <span class="smcap">God</span> in the world," showed that his religion +drew him the nearer to all his race. Strongly as +principle and feeling alike led him to seek to promote +in any way in his power the highest good of his fellow-creatures, +the remembrance of his deep spiritual +suffering caused him to take a deeper interest in those +whose minds were in any degree agonised and bewildered +as his had been. He would have considered +no amount of mental effort or physical fatigue too +great to encounter, could he thereby have "ministered +to a mind diseased." In 1848 when visiting friends in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +the south of England, he was told of a poor old woman +whose distress of mind had baffled every attempt to +relieve it. He went to her cottage, sat down and +listened to her complaints, anticipating them in great +measure from his own vividly-remembered distress. +She was cheered by finding another, who could tell +beforehand what she was going to say; and when he +reached down the Bible, and began reading his own +favourite passages, "When the poor and needy seek +water and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, +I the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> will hear them, I the <span class="smcap">God</span> of Israel will +not forsake them, I will open rivers in high places and +fountains in the midst of the valleys" &c., and entering +into her feelings, showed her that the glorious promises +of God were made to the wretched and self-condemning, +light seemed to burst upon her mind, and +her thankfulness and delight knew no bounds; and +second only to hers, were his own.—The most brilliant +success in society had never afforded a pleasure like this. +He seldom referred to his own past suffering, when he did +so it was in a brief but touching manner: thus in a +letter dated March 1849 he writes, "Pray give my +very best remembrance to Mrs. —— and tell her that +when I come to —— I <i>intend</i> sitting once more in her +arm chair, now with what different feelings. I had +not then found 'a hiding place from the storm, and +a covert from the tempest.' Now however I hope I +have found Christ as 'the shadow of a great rock in +a weary land.'"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>The true lowliness of spirit and willingness to be +set aside, with which he commenced any undertaking, +evinced a chastened spirit, which showed that he had +not suffered in vain. "How thankful," wrote he to +a friend, "we ought to be that we are permitted even +to attempt any thing for Him <i>who has given us all</i>, and +though apparently we fail, yet, as you say, we are +secure from disappointment; and, depend on it, some +good will arise probably to ourselves, if not to others, +from our least efforts; at any rate, if they lead us to +more humility and dependence on Him, one great end +will have been answered." And two months later, +writing to the same friend, he observed:—"It does +seem part of the discipline of life that we should aim +at duty—just embark in what seems the very path +we ought to pursue for our own and other's good, +and then plainly be sent back to learn one very +important lesson we are too apt to forget,—viz. that +the great Master can do his work without us."<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a></p> + +<p>In a letter dated February 22nd, 1850, after +speaking of the happiness he had enjoyed of late in +communion with <span class="smcap">God</span>, and expressing his desire to +serve Him, especially by comforting "the weary," he +adds, "but they 'do His will who only stand and wait;' +I am watching the course of events, and when <span class="smcap">He</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +has work for me to do, I shall be appointed to it. +In the meantime I am working with my pen what +may be useful at one time or another."</p> + +<p>The repose which belongs to maturity of character, +indicated by the last extract, was not unnoticed at +the time. It was one of those traits then marked, +but now fully understood. Many things which the +writer took for philosophic superiority to trifles, and +admired as such at the time, she now recognises as +Christian elevation of character. There was about +him an air—not exactly of indifference to the world +or of separation from it, for he entered with zest into +the social pleasures and all the higher pursuits of life—but +of something like a consciousness of still nobler +relations than any which connected his spirit with +earth, an abiding recognition of a world to which he +more properly belonged and still better than this which +he so much enjoyed; and he seemed to stand with one +foot uplifted ready to enter on that not distant world. +It was a fulfilling of the divine precept, "Let your +loins be girded about, and your lights burning, and +ye yourselves like unto men waiting for their Lord."</p> + +<p>An intimate friend when referring to daily intercourse +with him, enjoyed for some time during the last +autumn of his life, writes: "The advance in all things +connected with the spiritual good of himself, or of +others, was very striking—there was a dignity of deportment, +a seriousness when treating of divine things, +and an anxious desire for the religious improvement of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +all whom he could influence, that, superadded to his +natural cheerfulness and lively wit, made him a most +delightful companion. Still this increase of grace was +chiefly preparing him for the approaching removal: he +was taken because he was <i>ready</i>. Never did a bed of +languishing sickness more evidently fit the sufferer for +'going home' than did his beautiful frame of mind +during the happy months that preceded his sudden +removal." Not better chosen could one expression of +the above have been, had the writer of the note recollected +Mr. Roby's crest—a sheaf of corn (<i>garb</i>), and +motto "<span class="smcap">I am ready</span>." Rapid had the ripening been—those +years of suffering had done their work and +the brief, but bright, sunshine that followed, made +the sheaf ready for the garner.<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a></p> + +<p>The mind lingers on this aspect of his character. +Most precious to dwell upon now is—not the memory +of his rich talents—not the recollection of his warm +and generous affection, which, like the sunset glow, invests +all connected with him, with a brightness that +seems as if it would never grow dim, but—the thought +that he was, in the true, not merely in the conventional, +sense of the word, a <span class="smcap">Christian</span>. This alone can connect +the beloved ones who are "gone home" with all +that is real in comfort.—The workings of the sorrowful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +heart are no longer vague guesses and fruitless longings, +but sure and living hopes founded on "the true sayings +of <span class="smcap">God</span>." And when the voice whose music stirred the +very depths of the soul, as none other had power to +do, can be no longer heard, the ear of the spirit is +quickened for voiceless intercourse. And since those +sayings assure us that those whom we call the dead +still live, in all the integrity of their spiritual being, we +feel that they can scarcely be said to be gone—that the +one in spirit are one for eternity—that their love for, +and interest in us are not shaken—and if neither ear +nor eye can catch sound or glimpse of what was dearer +than life, still we are not without tokens of their presence. +The intercourse of spirit with spirit is not +destroyed because one veil of flesh is dropped; rather +it is so much the nearer. The flow of reciprocated +affection, the joy as truly shared, and sorrow as +tenderly lightened with whispered assurances of sympathy, +all tell of an union over which death hath no +power. Henceforward no abiding sense of loneliness, +can weigh down the heart made strong in an affection +which,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Doth draw the very soul into itself,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and brings it into companionship with "the spirits of +just men made perfect" in the presence of their Father +and our Father. All that remains for earth is "the +Patience of Hope." Death to the survivor as well as to +his victim has "lost his sting." Thanks be unto <span class="smcap">God</span>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus +Christ."<a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a></p> + +<p>Thus faintly and inadequately have been pourtrayed +the life and character of one whom his Maker had +endowed with genius, and sent forth for life's brief day. +His appointed task was to go to his fellow men, when +the fever of earth's turmoil is on them, and, by transporting +them into other scenes, to charm away their +cares and weariness for a while; bringing one character +after another, and adventures in quick succession, +before the reader, till he rises refreshed, and with new +spirit goes forth again to the conflict of life; having +found too, during his brief sojourn in that ideal region, +many a hint of valuable information, many a true moral +principle.</p> + +<p>And if increasing light from that world towards +which he was so rapidly advancing showed him how +more distinctly to place before his fellow men the characteristic +truths of Christianity as the foundation of all +that is good and enduring, and to consecrate his talents +to the highest interests of mankind, and then, with all +his plans and purposes ripening, <span class="smcap">God</span> called him away, +it was only to enter on worthier labours in that world, +where "His servants serve Him day and night." Strange +as such a cutting short of a life so lately renewed in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +physical vigour, and devoted to the high service of <span class="smcap">God</span> +appears, the very suddenness was in keeping with the +whole tenor of an existence which knew no idle moments—as +if not an hour of such a spirit was to be wasted—to-day +working here in the full vigour of his mortal +life, to-morrow on the other side of death, an immortal +spirit serving in its appointed rank before the +throne of <span class="smcap">God</span>.</p> + +<p>Sense would fain follow, and, amid the shadowy +forms of that world, catch a sight of one so dear: but +the eye is strained in vain. Yet Faith can hear her +Father's voice: "<span class="smcap">Blessed</span> are the dead that die in the +Lord," and she is content: for "<span class="smcap">they shall hunger +no more, neither thirst any more; neither +shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. +for the lamb which is in the midst of the +throne shall feed them, and shall lead them +unto living fountains of waters, and god shall +wipe away all tears from their eyes</span>."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<h2>MUSIC.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<h2>AIR FROM A MODERN CONCERTO</h2> + + +<p class="center">[<a href="music/roby_128.mid">Listen</a>] </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Music Title"> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Words by J. Roby.</span></td><td align="right"><span class="smcap">Air from a modern Concerto.</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 562px;"> +<img src="images/128.png" width="562" height="621" alt="Air from a modern Concerto." title="Air from a modern Concerto." /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 562px;"> +<img src="images/128b.png" width="562" height="161" alt="Air from a modern Concerto." title="Air from a modern Concerto." /> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">Father, hear a suppliant's cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Hear, oh hear, for Thou art nigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Though the clouds of sorrow rise<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Darkly o'er these troubled skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Speak the word, "Let there be light!"<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Bid the morning chase the night.<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Father, hear a suppliant's prayer;<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Darkness flies when Thou art there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> +<h2>SHEW PITY, LORD</h2> + + +<p class="center">[<a href="music/roby_129-130.mid">Listen</a>] </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Melody by J. Roby; the Harmonies varied by V. Novello.</span></p> + +<p class="center">[<i>Extracted, by permission, from the Congregational and Chorister's Psalm and Hymn-Book. +Dufour, Piccadilly.</i>]</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/129.png" width="650" height="380" alt="Shew Pity, Lord." title="Shew Pity, Lord." /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/129b.png" width="593" height="376" alt="Shew Pity, Lord." title="Shew Pity, Lord." /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/130.png" width="593" height="373" alt="Shew Pity, Lord." title="Shew Pity, Lord." /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/130b.png" width="593" height="393" alt="Shew Pity, Lord." title="Shew Pity, Lord." /> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">Shew pity, Lord! O Lord, forgive;<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Let a repenting rebel live.<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Are not thy mercies large and free?<br /></span> +<span class="i9">May not a sinner trust in Thee?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">My lips with shame my sins confess.<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Against thy law, against thy grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Lord, should thy judgment grow severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i9">I am condemned, but Thou art clear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">Yet save a humbling sinner, Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Whose hope, still hovering round thy word,<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Would light on some sweet promise there,<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Some sure support against despair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> +<h2>LYRICS.</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + + +<p>Some of the following short poems were composed early in life, +while two or three of those last in order are of a very recent date. +Those to which dates are appended are from another pen. It was +intended by Mr. Roby that they should appear with his own productions. +The survivor will be forgiven the mournful pleasure of +thus partially fulfilling one of those purposes whose "inward light," +was wont to</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Keep the path before him always bright."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> +<h2>LINES</h2> + +<h4>WRITTEN ON THE DEPARTURE OF FRIENDS FROM ENGLAND.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Swiftly go, thou bounding bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As with an arrow's flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The untamed winds thy coursers wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The waves thy chariot bright.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there are hearts within that shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where wilder billows swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the last pang is quivering now<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The last fond word—"Farewell."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blow, ye breezes! Gently roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou vast and troubled deep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy still waters let the sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of dim-eyed sorrow sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright hearts, bright hearths, and merry homes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their voice is on the wind.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be hush'd, ye blasts; too loud ye bring<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their echoes on the mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon these hallow'd shores shall fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fast as the summer cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stranger climes and stranger forms<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pass, like a pageant proud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blessings still your path pursue,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where'er that path may lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since every devious maze ye trace<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beneath a guiding eye.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon evening star that trembling dips<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beneath the western sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awhile, like him, your lonesome flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like his, your destiny.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though setting now in clouds and gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The day-spring shall arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yon pale star, like you, appear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In pomp from eastern skies!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May <span class="smcap">He</span> whose word the billows calm'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sooth'd those seas to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet whisper in the gentlest winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That breathe on ocean's breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there are waves of mightier power<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His voice alone can still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul's keen throb,—its louder surge<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grows peaceful at his will!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Swiftly go, thou bounding bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As with an arrow's flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The untamed winds thy coursers wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The waves thy chariot bright!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there are hearts within that shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where wilder billows swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the last pang is quivering now<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The last fond word—"Farewell!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> +<h2>PREFACE TO A LADY'S ALBUM.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An Album?—'Tis a pretty book I wis,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bound up in cow-skin—or sometimes in calf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All tool'd and gilt—where every pert-eyed miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her pretty pouting lips (too ripe by half),<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hangs o'er the snow-white page—then steals a laugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something between a simper and a smile;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Law, I can't write!—Ridiculous, to spoil<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I have no notion——Will an extract do<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From Moore or Byron?" "No, write something new."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An Album?—'Tis a wide waste blank—a page<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All bright and glorious, like the morn of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not darken'd with rude blots;—no dim presage<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Scrawl'd o'er the bliss-like future,—where no knife,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like eating care, obliterates.—The strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The agony, those hours shall know, nor trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor track, steals o'er their smooth, unruffled face.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If joy or woe those opening leaves shall bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who shall unfold their dim foretokening?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And would'st thou have me in that mirror look,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shadowing the first page in thy destiny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or weave a frontlet to Fate's Album-book?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It should be joyous were mine Fate's decree.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like opera-overtures, the melody<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I know the story should foretoken, telling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love, hope, joy, and all that sort of thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or, like the pictures on a raree-show,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blazon the matchless wonders hid below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I'm no prophet!—what these pages may<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or may not gather, hard to say methinks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis somewhat strange, e'en for this marvellous day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Writing a preface to blank leaves,—a sphynx<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Twould puzzle to undo, like Hymen's links!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The paper's pretty, and a pretty book:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far seems certain. What may next be shook<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From Fate's grim bag, <i>n'importe</i>—umquhile, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Time flits, hopes bud, and wither ere they blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When closed the last page of this history,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If joy or sorrow on that morn shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I may then, or thou shalt surely be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I dare not mutter with articulate voice!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And yet I'll try a word or so (no lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hate them); 'tis irrevocable fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I now unfold. Listen, as though there sate<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The wizard seer thy destiny revealing;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bright hopes, grim horror, o'er thy vision stealing!<br /></span> + </div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Oft shall wearied hope expire,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Bliss none other bosom knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love shall scorch thee with its fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Maiden, ere these pages close.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Oft shall visions warm and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Glimmer on thine aching brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swifter fading from thy sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Ne'er shall dawn those dreams again.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Oft shall throb that wearied breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Pulse on pulse in anguish beating,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft shall sink that storm to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Hope and love those wild waves meeting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Love and hate, and joy and fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shall thy bosom oft o'erflow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that woman's heart may bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">All that woman's breast may know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Oft shall friends thy bosom cherish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Change to deeper, deadlier foes.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love shall die and hope have perish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Maiden, ere these pages close!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> +<h2>TO ——</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have met and we have parted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Meet it were that love should die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teach the winds, thou fond false-hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Teach the light wave constancy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have loved as we shall never<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dare on earth to love again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearts thus twined, when they shall sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wear no more love's bootless chain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell the waves to calm their motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tell the wind thy power to flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid the chafed and restless ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sleep, aye, sleep unchangeably.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will the lash'd wave cease its wailing?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will the moaning billow rest?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then may Hope with joys unfailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fled like mine, appease thy breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> +<h2>STANZAS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Lightly o'er the moon-lit sea<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bounds my lover's bark to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The breeze hath woo'd the fluttering sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fast flies the prow from the wanton gale."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lady sung.—'Twas the lone sea-mew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the waters wail'd, as he wistfully flew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Swiftly through the curling foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Waft, ye winds, my true love home:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I hear not yet the dripping oar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The surge uncleft yet greets the shore."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lady gazed.—'Twas the rushing blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some spirit of might, on the waters pass'd!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Darkly o'er the troubled deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ruder winds the billows sweep;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lady hath left her lattice bower,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Why tarries my love till the midnight hour?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift answer came.—'Twas a shuddering moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As her lover's cold corse at her feet was thrown!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> +<h2>STANZAS FOR MUSIC.<a name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</a></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Forgotten so soon<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Are thy vows when we parted,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Have other links bound thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Thou fickle false-hearted?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go fling to the winds thy last tenderest vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are not so changing, so reckless as thou.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Can the tear on thy cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The warm gush from thy heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So soon dry their torrent?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">So quickly depart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like dew on the flower, like the web when 'tis broken,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh frailer than these, woman's vows when they're spoken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">And was it for this,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In my heart's holiest shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No memory was hidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">No image but thine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I deem'd thee some hallow'd, some heaven-given thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entwined round my bosom for ever to cling.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I had perill'd my all<br /></span> +<span class="i3">On that treacherous bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A woman's fond love;—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">When the billows grew dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bright sea was ruffled, the loud storm rush'd on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hopes are all wreck'd, and that light bark is gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Go, faithless, and weep!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For I scorn thy words now;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet no tears thou wilt shed<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Can heal one broken vow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No weeping can cleanse that one foul perjured stain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or quench the keen fire that now scorches my brain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Yet stay, false one, stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">There's a worm in thy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A gloom on thy soul<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Where no sunshine shall rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which e'en the agony thou hast made mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is blessing and bliss when compared but with thine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE FAIRIES' SONG.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Merry, merry elves we be,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">O'er the bright and bounding sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Dancing merrily.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We glide to the shore in our fairy bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">When the moon looks out on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the waves twinkle round us in many a spark,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Like radiant melody.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We dance to the sound of the calm cold billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere it sleeps on the sand, ere it dies on its pillow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Merry, merry elves we be,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Under the greenwood tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Dancing merrily.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the moon through yon white and fleecy cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Pale, silent, and softly creeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a spectre clad in a silvery shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">While nature quietly sleeps.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We merrily trip it with twinkling feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the leaves rustle o'er us in melody sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Away, away,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">At break of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For night is the fairies' holiday.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> +<h2>STANZAS FOR MUSIC.<a name="FNanchor_K_11" id="FNanchor_K_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_11" class="fnanchor">[K]</a></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fare thee well! the dream is o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Loved one fare thee well!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears and vows deceive no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When broken every spell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stars that fade in morning light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Suns that set shall rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no dawn illumes the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When Hope's last glimmer dies!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! lay me where the willows weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On some dreary shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calm shall be that colder sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Life's dark vision o'er.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though earthly joys for ever fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet mercy whispers nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immortal life beyond the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bliss beyond the sky.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<h2>STANZAS FOR MUSIC.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">On yon dark bosom'd mountain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The sunbeams are glancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">On lake and on fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The light ray is dancing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yon mountain is dark, though the sunbeams are bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yon fountain is cold, though 'tis quivering with light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">So one bosom with sadness<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Feels dark and opprest,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">While around, mirth and gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Illumine each breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the smiles that to others with rapture may glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave that bosom alone to its darkness and woe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> +<h2>STANZAS FOR MUSIC.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I've seen the smile on woman's cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The tear in woman's eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as I gazed, that smile grew dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That liquid fount was dry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, I have heard her say she loved,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And kiss'd the plighted token:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I have lived to feel how false<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What woman's lip hath spoken!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, lighter than the lightest breath<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That skims the morning air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is woman's vow, that binds the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In witchery or despair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How she hath wrung this bleeding breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I may not, dare not tell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only know that I have loved<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Too fondly, and too well.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> +<h2>STANZAS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Say, what is Love?—a bubble<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On life's dull current fleeting,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A thousand hues and visions bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On its frail surface meeting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It breaks, and where that vision fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ocean's dark depth may answer, Where?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Say what is Love?—'tis light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On life's dark billows thrown;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh, glorious the first glance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That on those waters shone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis gone,—those waves, illum'd no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roll darkly on life's desert shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Say what is Love?—a glimpse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life's stormy clouds between,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of that bright heaven, where all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is cloudless and serene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A look, ere night and darkness come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the terrors of the tomb!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Come all whose blighted bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love's cruel pangs deceive,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Say what shall be the garland<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For lovers' brows to weave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lone leaf on a blasted tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, this Love's coronal shall be!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONG.</h2> + + +<p class="center">The following lines were written to the air No. 4, in the 5th book of +Mendelsohn's "Lieder ohne Wörte."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, say not, lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That ought could ever<br /></span> +<span class="i3">This fond heart sever<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From love and thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, bid the billow<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Now calm its motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The restless ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Rest endlessly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should'st thou deceive me,—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">All earthly blessing,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Not worth possessing,—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Away I'd flee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far from home, love—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">My lost hopes mourning—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nor thence returning,—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">I'd pray for thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though a stranger<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To earthly gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">There is a sadness<br /></span> +<span class="i6">More glad than mirth,—<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The joy of sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The sweetest pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">A tear-bought treasure<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of heavenly birth!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though all around me<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Were darkness veiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Yet light unfailing<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In death shall rise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though day departeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nor cloud nor sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shall dim that morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In yonder skies!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE FRIEND.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There is a friend, whose love<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Is closer than a brother's,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tender, endearing,—'tis above<br /></span> +<span class="i3">E'en fondness like a mother's:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She may forget her suckling's cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ear attends the feeblest sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">On Him thy panting breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">By care and anguish riven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bleeding and torn, hath found its rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From other refuge driven:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And earth, with all its joys and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath ceased to bring or smiles or tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Morn's dew-enamell'd flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The cloud through azure sweeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their brightness owe to sadder hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Their calm, to storms and weeping.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Friend shall thus each tear illume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To forms of glory shape that gloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Eve's sapphire cloud hath been<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Dark as the brow of sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those dew pearls wreath'd in emerald green,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Once wept a coming morrow:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But glory sprang o'er earth and sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all was light and ecstacy.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Yon star upon the brow<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of night's grey coronet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Morn's radiant blush, eve's ruddy glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Had yon bright sun ne'er set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were hidden still from mortal sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost in impenetrable light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then should afflictions come,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Dark as the shroud of even,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thousand glories glitter from<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The burning arch of heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though earth be wrapt in doubt and gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New splendours dawn o'er daylight's tomb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And who that azure hung<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With lamps of living fire?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who, when the hosts of morning sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">First listen'd to their quire?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Man of Sorrows mercy sent,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heav'n the <span class="smcap">God</span>!—the Omnipotent!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">He</span> is that friend, whose love<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nor life nor death shall sever!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eternal as yon throne above,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Unchanged, endures for ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What would'st thou more, frail fabric of the dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Omnipotence</span> thy Shield!—thy Refuge!—Trust!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> +<h2>LINES TO A LADY</h2> + +<h4>WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD NEVER SEEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though thy form I ne'er beheld,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet fancy oft would trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expression, features, look, with all<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their witchery or grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though thy voice were never heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I felt its melting tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That came like some mysterious spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unbidden and alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw thee in the wingéd beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">First-born of morning light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In darkness oft I saw thee still,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A vision of the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though unheard, unseen,—thy name<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The same sweet image brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fancy o'er the mimic scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her own bright halo flings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh who shall tell the wondrous glimpse<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Imagination threw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though past, present, and to come<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were open to her view!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As though the hidden sense had now,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From earthly dross refin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierc'd this material and left<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mortality behind!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And is not this a ray that breaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With unquench'd potency,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forth from the Omnipotent,—a light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From his omniscient eye?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A spark from that eternal mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">First breath'd into our breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An image of the Infinite,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On finite pow'rs impress'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though debas'd, degraded, dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From heav'n's own light they shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imagination, fancy, thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their origin divine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BIRCH</h2> + +<h4>ON THE WORCESTERSHIRE BEACON, GREAT MALVERN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It stood alone on the green hill side,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That fairy birchen tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its yellow leaves in the autumn breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were flutt'ring heavily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The early frosts brought those pale leaves down,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ere the storms of winter came;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stripp'd and bare stood my birchen tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But a wreck to tell its name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I pass'd the place when the streams were still,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the earth was chang'd to stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the leafless boughs a hoary show'r,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As a spell of heav'n was thrown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glistening sprays by the wind were stirr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like a banner gently furl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seem'd, in its pure and peerless grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A gift from another world.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And even thus in our inner life,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the early frosts are come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the greenness has pass'd from life away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the music of earth is dumb;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis then that the light and hope of heav'n,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'er the lonely heart are flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our spirit knows a holier joy<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than that to which erst it clung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And year by year is the type renew'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That our wayward hearts may learn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is peace for the stripp'd and wearied ones,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who in faith to their Father turn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">1841.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>ASTROLOGY.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis said that in the burning stars<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The fate of man is writ:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet quail not, Christian, at the sign;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By <span class="smcap">Love</span> those lamps are lit.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">1848.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE FIRST REVELATION.</h2> + + +<p>Suggested by the story of a child, whose father, an educated man, but an +infidel, if not an atheist, had not allowed him to receive any religious +culture. Being one day reproved by a friend for using profane language, +on the ground that it was displeasing to <span class="smcap">God</span>, he enquired who was meant. +He instantly apprehended with delight all that was told him of the nature +and attributes of the Supreme Being, as if the idea had been latent in his +mind, until thus called forth into recognised existence.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shadows o'er the infant mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Floating dimly undefin'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a picture scarce design'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Melody but half express'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inarticulate at best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunting ever that young breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the magic word is spoken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shades of night are broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by that same lustrous token.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">God the mighty One</span>," now near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Memnon music on the ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falls articulate and clear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the day of life begun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the newly risen sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that light its paths are run.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even so, when <span class="smcap">God</span> reveal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the eye by Death unseal'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall completed being yield,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Will the shadows which now lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As dim portents to the eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the spirit's vision fly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the mystic sounds and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the untaught ear oft greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall a lucid tale repeat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And mysterious spirit-life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past its agony and strife—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be with seven-fold Glory rife.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">1848.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> +<h2>AN EVENING HYMN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Faint falls the twilight dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woods, waves, their ev'ning hymn<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Murmur to Thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One pale star ocean seeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One waveless glimmer breaks<br /></span> +<span class="i8">O'er that lone sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Softly the passing gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sighs like love's parting tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Whispers not words.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clouds come not o'er that night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stars burn with purer light<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Than earth affords.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, Night, around this breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soothing dreamy rest<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Waft o'er my soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thoughts of heav'nly birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untouch'd by aught of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Undimm'd may roll.—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then like yon star may we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet death's calm silent sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Setting to rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright'ning still while we sink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that dread ocean brink,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To other skies!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE DUKE OF MANTUA.</h2> + +<h4>A Tragedy.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.</b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" width="90%" summary=""> +<tr><td class="col1"> </td><td class="col2"> </td><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">MEN.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Andrea</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="left"><i>Duke of Mantua</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ridolfi</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="left"><i>the Duke's Foster-brother</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Carlos</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="left"><i>in love with Hermione</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Bertrand</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="left"><i>Friend to Carlos</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Fabian</span>,<br /><span class="smcap">Sylvio</span>,</td><td align="left"><span style='font-size:200%;font-weight:lighter;margin:0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0;'> } </span></td><td align="left"><i>Pages attending on the Duke</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Giulio</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="left"><i>a Minstrel attending on Carlos</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Stephano</span>,<br /><span class="smcap">Roland</span>,</td><td align="left"><span style='font-size:200%;font-weight:lighter;margin:0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0;'> } </span></td><td align="left"><i>Servants to Ridolfi</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="3"><i>Priest</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="3"><i>Grave-Digger</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="3"><i>Citizens of Mantua</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">WOMEN.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Beatrice</span>,</td><td> </td><td align="left"><i>Duchess of Mantua</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Hermione</span>,</td><td> </td><td align="left"><i>Cousin to Ridolfi</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Laura</span>,</td><td> </td><td align="left"><i>Sister to Ridolfi</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Zorayda</span>,</td><td> </td><td align="left"><i>a Gipsy</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Blanch</span>,</td><td> </td><td align="left"><i>Servant to Hermione</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="left" colspan="2"><i>Guards, Soldiers, &c</i>.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="center"><i>Scene—Mantua</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE DUKE OF MANTUA.</h2> + + +<h4>ACT I.—SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Room in the Duke's Palace at Mantua.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ridolfi</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">ridolfi.</span></span><br /> +Hermione again visits my house.—<br /> +Your presence, good my lord, with your fair dame,<br /> +I would solicit.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Well, Ridolfi, be it so:—to-day,</span><br /> +If nought forbid the time:—Hermione,<br /> +Thou say'st?—I do remember, yet so slight, 'tis scarce<br /> +The shadow of her form. But once, my brother,<br /> +'Twas one fair summer's eve, awhile I saw<br /> +Thy sprightly coz: a laughter-loving spirit,<br /> +She threw quick mirth as the unbidden shafts<br /> +Of innocent love, scattering with hand profuse<br /> +Her joyous pranks. I was but newly wedded,<br /> +Scarce past the honey-moon; Beatrice hung<br /> +Fondly upon mine arm, and we too laugh'd,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>On that still night, until the whisp'ring woods<br /> +Grew loud, and thousand voices started forth<br /> +From bough and hoary stem, bursting as if<br /> +To riotous life; and yet her giddy face,<br /> +Playful and changing as the restless wave,<br /> +I cannot fashion now from memory's storehouse—<br /> +How fares thy cousin?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">ridolfi.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Still by love, my lord,</span><br /> +She comes untamed; but time, one delicate shade<br /> +Hath slightly pass'd upon her wanton mirth,<br /> +Softening the ruder bursts of her high spirit,<br /> +Tinged ofttime now with gentler thought.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">'Tis well</span><br /> +When ripening years mellow the gaudy hue<br /> +Of youth's rich fancies, sparkling else too bright<br /> +For its repose.——We visit thee to-day.—<br /> +This tribute say we give Hermione.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">ridolfi.</span></span><br /> +Much honour hold we from your presence:<br /> +Our poorer hospitality excuse,<br /> +As you are wont. Adieu! No costly feast<br /> +We give, but our glad welcome.<span style="margin-left: 8em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">A brother still,—a friend</span><br /> +To cheer my way through life's dark wilderness.<br /> +Thou art a feeble light, and yet I love<br /> +To watch thy tremulous blaze, blessing the gloom,<br /> +And shedding round my path its thousand gems,<br /> +Sprinkling perchance some loathed and hideous form<br /> +With thy pale gleam. How tender hast thou been<br /> +To my worst weaknesses, my foibles, all<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>Heart-withering cares! Though born to humbler honours,<br /> +I call thee friend. Well hast thou earn'd from me<br /> +That sacred name! One bosom nourish'd us:<br /> +One hand our childhood rear'd; twining we grew<br /> +Unto one stem, till riches and high birth<br /> +Bore me brief space from that beloved soil,—<br /> +That home, to which our very nature yet<br /> +Seems most akin.——<br /> +Of proud descent, unsullied as mine own,<br /> +Thou yet canst boast: if not of titled wealth,<br /> +Of outward garb, thy suit becomes thee well;<br /> +And I do love thee more than if array'd<br /> +In ducal coronet. Beatrice too<br /> +Hath prized him for my sake, and her esteem<br /> +I do repay with tenfold love.——<br /> +Fierce, feverish love!—thine idle dreams,—fleeting<br /> +As cloud-fed vapour, yon o'erarching bow<br /> +Bestrides,—fade as the sunbeam on the sky<br /> +Dispels the glowing mist. 'Tis well, if then<br /> +The welkin clear'd, each circumstance and form,—<br /> +Fashion'd realities by truth impress'd<br /> +Upon the craving eye-balls,—O 'tis well<br /> +If on these fix'd and palpable images<br /> +Of roused and wakening sense, the eye may rest<br /> +With unappeased delight! But if the while<br /> +Love's light-wing'd visions fade, nought fills the void<br /> +Save chilling wastes, trackless, unlimited,<br /> +That echo back their own grim desolation<br /> +To the appalled spirit. What escape<br /> +The shrinking soul is left, save one dark path<br /> +To unappointed death? I thank thee, Heaven,<br /> +Thou sparest me this trial! Love hath still<br /> +With proud esteem held equal sway: in peace,<br /> +Untroubled they divide their several empire.——<br /> +But I must hence; Beatrice I would greet<br /> +First with these tidings of Hermione.<span style="margin-left: 6em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE II.</h4> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>A Hall in the House of Ridolfi.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter Servants, preparing for an Entertainment.</i></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Help me with this wine, Stephano.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Help thee? yea, my wishes be thy help. I hope thou +wilt have unhelped speed.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Truce to thy wit, comrade, for it helpeth me not, save +an' my fingers to this cudgel, and thine hide to a basting.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Nay, spare thy wit, and thy cudgel to boot: mine hide +endureth it not tenderly. If I should wince, thou mightest +come to harm. A dainty flagon this: would that thy mouth +were as dry as my lips, and our bellies had changed occupants! +Thy lazy body would be lighter, methinks, and I +better able to carry thee.——</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +The Lady Hermione! Oh, how I do love her sweet face, +Stephano! She smiles an' it were so temptingly when she +speaks! "Good Roland," says she, "give me of that wine."—"Kind +Roland, do go to the bath, and carry my little +spaniel:"—or thus, "Honest master Roland, pray take my +basket, and bring me thy master's garden mittens." This +house, I trow, Stephano, she makes like to some gay palace, +when she visits it; as pleasant and full of goodness as the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>Duke's pantry, who comes to the feast to-day. She was here +some two years agone, and I thought I should have pined +away at heart when she left.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Tush! thou star-stricken marmoset! Is she not a woman? +Are not all women as full of deceit as their grandmothers? +Is not Eve's flesh upon the bones of the very best jade in +Christendom? and this blowzy-bell of thine, beshrew me, +has no better a covering than the rest of 'em. This dainty +hoyden thou delightest to worship, man, can be as chary of +her winning looks as any of her sisterhood; and if I have +not seen a storm brewing in her face, I have seen a water-spout +in her eye, marry, which is almost fathomless. Mark +me, Roland; if any good comes of her mummery, I am no +true prophet, that's all.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Envious in this, I do guess, Stephano. Why does she not +smile on thee—eh? Thy stupid face, seamed like a beggar's +coat; thy marvellous bright eyes and small nostrils; or, +mayhap, I might the rather mean, thy marvellous bright +nostrils and small eyes, make tears come into her delicate +organs by sympathy, like the stroke of a dull razor. I tell +thee, man, she cannot smile fronting thy mis-shapened countenance. +I know many gentlewomen that bear not an ugly +serving-man about them; and the delicate Hermione, I +should bethink me, hath aversion to such.—I like her the +better, Stephano, for thine ugliness.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Thou mis-shapen cur, time serves not to correct thee. +What! dost brag if thy grinning leer provoke her mirth? +"Sweet Roland," ah, "good Roland," put thy nose to the +curling irons, and twist thy mouth with thy garters. I can +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>tell thee, "Master Roland," this favourite hath her privy +counsellors, and she not a wit loth to trust 'em. Ah, ah! +"honest Roland," perhaps thou didst help her to the terrace +key o' yesternight; and it was "kind Roland, fetch me"—oh, +her pretty spaniel was it, "Master Roland?"</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Nay, thou art in jest. Sawest thou the Lady Hermione +with the key last night?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +I heard a noise in the gallery, and I jumped hastily from +my mattress, and who should I see but Hermione, with her +chamber-lamp, opening the door which leads to the garden +terrace. What sayest thou, Roland?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +The key I fetched not.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Then, it seems, she lacks not other "honest" friends for +matters of more need, and they in nothing loth to serve her.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Didst thou watch her further?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Ay, good Roland, or I do not deserve to know the worth +of a pretty secret.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Well?—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Thou art curious, i' faith. What makes thee look so +wistful?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Come, thou lucky knave, I want the burden of thy song. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>How sped she?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +I hied me to the topmost lattice, overlooking—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Who was the gallant?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Why truly he had a brighter face than thine own, but +shorn off somewhat from the left cheek.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Thou speakest parables, Stephano. Out with it, friend: +a secret cometh to no good if kept in thy stomach.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +A fair face; eyes, mouth, and nose, though none of the +best;—I think not half so well made as mine own.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +In troth, a dainty lover. What more?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +But then she gave him such a look of devotion, it would +have done thine heart good to have watched the turn of her +face, and to have looked at the glistening of her eye,—and +yet this platter-faced gallant seemed all unmoved.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +His name knowest thou?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Verily, he hath many titles, and I should be puzzled to +suit my respect with his proper quality, should we meet.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +I'll watch to-night;—but pr'ythee whisper me his name +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>gently; I am not quick at solving a riddle.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Nay, nay; watch and satisfy thine own prying fancy, as +I have mine. If she walks to-night I'll call thee.<span style="margin-left: 1em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE III.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Chamber in Ridolfi's House.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Hermione</span>, <i>sitting at a Table.</i></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Two years agone—this self-same chamber—<br /> +Just as 'twas wont;—that ebony casket—still<br /> +Yon little crucifix hung o'er the mirror,—<br /> +That plaited riband, on its flower-carved pillars,<br /> +I wore in sport for love's fair guerdon;<br /> +Its chequer'd noose I vow'd to cast on him<br /> +Who caught me first in some wild reckless game<br /> +Of wanton mirth; but none, as I remember,<br /> +The adventure gain'd,—it hangs unclaiméd still.<br /> +But why this heaviness?—as if some secret,<br /> +Some long-forgotten grief, waked from its slumber,<br /> +Roused at the voice of these loud recollections.<br /> +Ah! dread dissembler! once I thought thee dead,<br /> +And thou but slept! Away! haunt not my spirit!<br /> +Is it thy form, fell demon? Hence!—thy strength<br /> +Is nurtured but with present loneliness,<br /> +And on the wings of some reviving thought<br /> +Admittance hast thou gain'd to mock me.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">[<i>Knocking without.</i></span><br /> +Who knocks?—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>'Tis time, lady, you adorn for the guests. The Duke sends +word he will attend, and with it his gracious love to Hermione. +This billet greets you with his welcome.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +A billet!—Welcome!—Stay.<br /> +Thou shalt attire me in some simple garb,<br /> +Some unassuming robe; its modest hue<br /> +Unnoticed, I can there observe<br /> +The humours of this feast.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +Your crimson bodice, lady, becomes you best, and your +lilac kerchief with the blue purfle——or do you choose your +orange tiffany dress, and your coif and farthingale?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Neither, good Blanch. Where is mine old spotted robe, +with the silk sleeves and violet-flowered stomacher?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +Lady, what unlucky accident should bethink you of the +garment? I fear your memory is but indifferently served. +Once, my kind mistress, you gave it to me: and I remember +well I said the dress was too gay, when straight you replied, +with a sigh (and I do always grieve to hear you sigh, +lady), "Take it, good Blanch; I wear it not again:" which +I the more marvelled at, being, as you remember, made up +for your last visit to Mantua, nor did you inquire for it, +after you left this gay city; but methinks none other serves +you so well for this same soft-air'd clime. I will away for +it speedily, right glad, I trow, the roguish pedler hath not +fetched it, who gathers the cast-off dresses from your house. +I have not worn the apparel, lady.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>Thou art a kind-hearted gossip. Choose thee the best +suit from my clothes-press, and take it for the exchange.—Nay, +good Blanch, I allow not thy gainsay:—it will, peradventure, +help thee to a husband.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +I will but keep it then, my sweet mistress, to answer at +your bidding; mayhap, you will fancy it on your wedding-day.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +I shall need no garment then, but the one thy grandmother +wore when she scared thy father in the forest.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +Save you, my lady! mean you her winding-sheet?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +I mean mine own, Blanch; hers being worn out, belike, +ere now, with much travel.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +Oh, mercy!—but you are ever at a jest.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Nay, girl, my spirits are too heavy.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +What mean you, fair mistress? I do fear me a few hours +of this Mantuan air have wrought untowardly with you. +Are you ill, lady?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +No, girl.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +It is a secret that disturbs you?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>Thou canst sing, Blanch?—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +Ay, sweet lady, that can I,—and your favourite carol too. +List.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Sings.</i></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The miller was blithe in the red, red morn.</span> +<span class="i1">And he sung ere the lark left her nest;</span> +<span class="i0">His heart was bright as the gold, gold light</span> +<span class="i1">That comes o'er the dappled east."</span></div></div> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Nay, that sorts not with my humour, Blanch.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +Shall I try the merry troll you were always right glad to +hear, which the old steward taught us?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Roundabout, roundabout, laugh and glee</span> +<span class="i0">So merry, so merry—"</span></div></div> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Stay:—not now:—some other song, and we'll in to the +toilet: let it be brief—I know not why,—save that I think +thy singing hath not now such a jocund and mirthful spirit +in it.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +Ah, lady!—but strange purposes are i' the wind when the +mirth-giving Hermione becometh a lover of lamentable +ditties!—Stay, shall it be of love?—a sleepy tale of love, as +you were wont to call it?—I know a ballad of this hue.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +I care not: another, it may be, would have chimed better. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>Yet, I'll hear thee as a babbler of strange stories.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch</span> (<i>sings</i>).</span><br /></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">"Up with the light,</span> +<span class="i3">My maiden bright,</span> +<span class="i2">The thrush twitters on the tree;</span> +<span class="i0">Each merry, merry bird to his mate doth call,</span> +<span class="i2">And the bridal waits for thee!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">"The sunbeams pass</span> +<span class="i3">On the dew-spread grass,</span> +<span class="i2">And gold gleams are in the sky;</span> +<span class="i0">The morn's balmy breeze to thy casement hies,</span> +<span class="i2">And thy bridegoom is waiting for thee."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">The lover spake,</span> +<span class="i3">"Fair maid, awake,"</span> +<span class="i2">Yet the maiden still she slept!</span> +<span class="i0">"Why tarries she from me?—thy bonny face I'll see,"</span> +<span class="i2">And lightly to her window he leapt.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">One cry he gave,</span> +<span class="i3">Then still as the grave</span> +<span class="i2">In dim horror he fix'd his dark eye;</span> +<span class="i0">For there his lady bright slept her long, long changeless night,</span> +<span class="i2">And a blood-sprinkled corpse welter'd nigh!</span> +</div></div> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +How like you the song?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Indifferent well;—methinks it were too sad. But sadness +and I must have closer fellowship ere long, or I mistake +the note of her approach. Away, Blanch; we must not +delay the honours of the feast.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE IV.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>An Inn at Mantua.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Bertrand</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Carlos</span>, <i>fatigued with travel.</i></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +'Tis well, good Carlos, in this noble city,<br /> +Thanks to all proper instruments, we now<br /> +Enter safe housed. Nay, nay, dole-stricken friend,<br /> +Put off these looks, drench'd still in woe. Why, man,<br /> +Love ne'er was waked with weeping; woman's eye<br /> +E'er kept her heart, and thou must henceforth bribe<br /> +With gayer looks that restless twinkling organ,<br /> +Ere thou may'st gain admittance to her breast.<br /> +Rouse thee!—Accost her thus, with careless look<br /> +And laughing eye;—bid her "good day;"—<br /> +Wring her fair hand; and if withdrawn,<br /> +Why seize her by the waist: her sullen looks<br /> +Heed not; an' if she chide, toss back her words;—<br /> +Let her not learn from thy woe-tinctured face,<br /> +Ere yet the tremulous voice its utterance shape,<br /> +Thou pinest a love-sick fool!—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Bertrand, forbear.</span><br /> +Thou speakest like to one whose lofty spirit<br /> +Love hath not quell'd. I cannot now th' oppressor<br /> +Lift from my soul; I am bow'd down,—subdued,—<br /> +Crush'd even to earth,—yet crawling heavily,<br /> +A cumbrous burden, wearied, useless here,<br /> +And without purport to my fellow-men!—<br /> +I seem aloof from all connexion, tie,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>Or kindred with mankind. The very earth,<br /> +My parent dust, claims not its fellowship<br /> +With mine! Would that yon chill and rayless dwelling<br /> +Had shut me out, and all mine hated sorrow,<br /> +Far from the gaze, the cold, unpitying gaze,<br /> +Alike of stranger and of friend!<br /> +Soon shall the darkness cover me,—the tomb<br /> +Close mine account for ever. Then shall I rest;—<br /> +No glance of cool-eyed scorn shall meet me there,<br /> +Nor woman's charm'd and traitorous tongue shall mock me.<br /> +They seek not victims i' the grave!—My grief<br /> +Shall there be spent; the heart's last ebbing throe<br /> +To earth in quiet nothingness shall leave me,<br /> +Loosed from my dungeon and my chain!—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Carlos,</span><br /> +Thy troubled spirit hath no appetite<br /> +For aught but evil. Fancy, diseased,<br /> +Shapeth its wrongs from what itself doth breed,—<br /> +E'en as the timid and belated hind<br /> +From out his spectre-haunted brain brings forth<br /> +The shadow most he fears.—I do not mock thee;<br /> +Cold scorn lurks not i' the same laughing orbit<br /> +Of an unfraudulent eye. Thou know'st it well,<br /> +Thy peace alone I've sought; and this coy dame,<br /> +Woo'd as mine hopes commend, would free my bosom<br /> +From half its load. For these remediless griefs<br /> +With equal weight oppress mine anguish'd spirit,<br /> +As the united woe this breast e'er smote,<br /> +The sum untold of this world's misery.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +Forgive a wayward tongue, fretful—unkind:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>My breaking heart still holds thee dear.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Forgive!—</span><br /> +Nay, ask not this;—man asks but favours.<br /> +What waits our bolder claim we crave not. Hold!—<br /> +'Tis needful we devise, touching our errand,<br /> +Some scheme for its adventure. Shrewd my guess,<br /> +Thou would'st e'en now return, unwoo'd, unsought<br /> +This dainty maiden, and to others leave<br /> +The fond pursuit, then lay thee down and weep!<br /> +I've led thee hither, Carlos;—here I vow,<br /> +Ere this same gallant city hath disgorged<br /> +Such useless habitants, to her dull ear<br /> +Thou shalt commend thy love.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +I've penn'd a fragrant billet——</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">Or a sonnet,</span><br /> +Mayhap, unto her eyne. Nay, 'tis not thus<br /> +Her fickle love is caught:—canst find no speech?<br /> +'Tis said love 's eloquent, and pleadeth nobly,<br /> +Using such vehement passion as doth rouse<br /> +The listening heart. Pour thy whole soul to hers:<br /> +Give her no space for thought—'twill bring resistance.<br /> +Reflection's chill and polish'd surface soon<br /> +Would glance off thine artillery, rolling back<br /> +The warm flood to thine heart. But I forbear:—<br /> +My wish is ever foremost on my tongue,<br /> +And still outstrips thy power! Well, thou canst sing,<br /> +Play on the cittern, trill the soft-voiced lute<br /> +Beneath a lady's chamber; thou canst fill<br /> +A delicate ear with ditties framed so deftly,<br /> +And with such wondrous skill, another's woe<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>Shall seem thine own, 'Tis said, in that soft hour<br /> +The maiden's heart is tender, and well nurtured<br /> +To cherish love's impressions. Then, I tell thee,<br /> +Unask'd attend, and with some vagrant band<br /> +Of hired melodists, at once discourse,<br /> +To thine heart's easing, of pale woe, sighs, groans,<br /> +And love forsaken. Thus prepared, her thought<br /> +Will wondering turn to her moon-driven warbler.<br /> +Thou knowest well in woman's restless soul<br /> +A lurking fondness lies for mystery.<br /> +If thou but win her thought to some connexion,<br /> +Some yet scarce-felt recurrence with thine own,<br /> +And pleasure once associate with the thought—<br /> +These outworks gain'd, cheer thee, thou gloomy knight;<br /> +The lady shall be won.<span style="margin-left: 10em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE V.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>The Terrace. Moonlight.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hermione</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Calm orb, how tranquil is thy path!—<br /> +Amid the stars thou walkest, clad in light<br /> +As with a garment. Still thy borrow'd robe<br /> +The darkness compasseth, and sullen night<br /> +His cloud-spread visage cleareth at thy beam.—<br /> +How calm on yonder stream the moonlight sleeps!<br /> +Fair image, woman, of thy maiden breast,<br /> +Unmoved by love. Anon, some vagrant breath<br /> +Ruffles its surface, and its pure still light<br /> +In tremulous pulses heaves:—brighter, perchance,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>That feverish glitter, but its rest is o'er!—<br /> +How fresh the dewy air falls on my cheek,<br /> +As if some spirit, clothed in its influence, came<br /> +Upon my soul, with one heaven-given drop,<br /> +To cool its torment! Would that I could bind<br /> +Thine incorporeal essence! I would chain thee<br /> +Here!—on my heart! Benevolent visitor,<br /> +Whether from yon bright sphere to mortals sent,<br /> +On moonbeams gliding,—fairy gnome or sylph,<br /> +Whate'er thy name;—or from earth's glistening caves,<br /> +Or from the forest-corall'd deep thou comest,<br /> +In these chill drops that stud my dew-deck'd hair,<br /> +Its every braid impearling:—fly me not,<br /> +I charge thee, gentle spirit!—Hark! he comes!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">[<i>Music at a distance.</i></span><br /> +I thank thee——<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">[<i>The sound gradually approaches, until heard +apparently from beneath the Terrace.</i></span><br /> +A voice!—I'll hear thy words. Breathe not too loud,<br /> +Ye winds.—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;">SONG.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Lady, list to me!</span> +<span class="i2">Thy gentle spirit I'll be;</span> +<span class="i0">The fire is my garment, the flood is my bed,</span> +<span class="i0">And I paint the first cloud with the sunbeam red</span> +<span class="i1">That rolls o'er the broad blue sea.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Lady, list to me!</span> +<span class="i2">To the mountain-top I flee:</span> +<span class="i0">There I watch the first wave that comes laden with light,</span> +<span class="i0">And its soft hue I spread o'er each billow so bright,</span> +<span class="i0">With its beam I enkindle each heaven-peering height,</span> +<span class="i1">And the morn's radiant canopy.—</span> +<span class="i6">[<i>The voice ceases, and the music slowly retires.</i></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Oh fly not!—bear me on thy wing!—from earth—<br /> +From——Why this shudder?—Save me, spirit of air,<br /> +Or earth, or sea! Tear me but hence; and yet<br /> +I cannot part. Oh! why in mercy once<br /> +Was I conceived, and not to nothing crush'd<br /> +Ere the first feeble pulse, unconscious life,<br /> +Crept through this viewless form?—Why was I kept<br /> +Unharm'd through infinite perils?—spared, yet doom'd<br /> +To writhe unpitied—succourless—alone,<br /> +Beneath one cruel, one remorseless woe,—<br /> +From hope shut out—from common sympathy,<br /> +And all communion of sorrow,—e'en<br /> +To the veriest wretch upon thy bosom earth<br /> +Ne'er yet denied?—This boon I dare not ask:<br /> +Wither'd, consumed, companionless, unwept,<br /> +I meet mine hastening doom. Yet, clad in smiles,<br /> +A flower-wreathed sacrifice, I gaily bound,<br /> +With gambols playful as the innocent lamb,<br /> +To the devouring altar. The knife is bared!—<br /> +Uplifted,—glittering! Yet I woo thee, tyrant,<br /> +And madly kiss my chain. This night the feast<br /> +I left;—arm'd, I had proudly thought—vain hope!<br /> +With such resolve as, on this moonlit terrace,<br /> +Where, freed awhile from earth's disquietude,<br /> +My thralled heart might here unchain for ever!—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">[<i>Takes a billet from her bosom.</i></span><br /> +I vow'd to snatch thee from my breast!<br /> +To tear thee hence! and to the winds, unseen,<br /> +Commit thy perishing fragments, e'en as now<br /> +This unoffending page I rend, far scattering<br /> +Its frail memorial to the air.—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Makes an effort to tear the paper.</i></span><br /> +Some power withholds me. What! for this thou yearnest?<br /> +Weak, foolish heart, some other hour, thou say'st,<br /> +Better thou canst resign this fluttering relic<br /> +Of thy——hope, whisperest thou?<br /> +Nay, folly—madness,—call it but aright,<br /> +Thou throbbing fool, and I will give thee back<br /> +Thy doted bauble.<span style="margin-left: 4em;"> [<i>Returns it into her bosom.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">There—there!—watch over it!</span><br /> +Brood on thy minion!—cherish and pamper it<br /> +Until it mock thee!—prey on thy young blood,—<br /> +Poison each spring of natural affection,<br /> +And all the sympathies that flesh inherits,—<br /> +Then wilt thou curse thine idol!—Impotent rage,—<br /> +It will deride thee, and will fiercely cling<br /> +To thine undoing for ever. Fare thee well,<br /> +Thou star-hung canopy!—far-smiling orb.<br /> +Farewell! No more sweet influences ye fling,<br /> +As ye were wont, around my desolate heart;<br /> +I cannot bear your stillness:—Earthquake—storm—<br /> +The mighty war of the vex'd elements,<br /> +Would best comport with my disquiet:—now,<br /> +On thy calm face I dare not look again!<span style="margin-left: 6em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Roland</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Stephano</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +So, so, my moon-eyed maiden. Ah, "Good Roland," +gallants breed not i' the sun; they thrive best belike i' the +moonbeams.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +I saw no gallant.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Why, poor wretch, I pity thee. Perhaps she hath fallen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>sick for the moon; thou seest his cheek is somewhat shorn +off, and I verily think he favours the lover that I told +thee of.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Thou art an old and a wicked rogue. But what waked +such pleasant music? Came that from the moon too?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">stephano.</span></span><br /> +Ah, ah, honest friend, dost thou breed suspicions?—Ask +the gardener who brought the music-men so late under the +garden terrace.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>cautiously, carrying a light.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +How now, masters, wot ye,—a pretty time o' night for +secret whisperings! What brings you to the terrace, worthy +sirs, so nigh upon midnight? Pleasant discourse truly, you +unseasonable villains! Can't you stay a-bed?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">roland.</span></span><br /> +Sweet mistress, we came to hear the music.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +And what should lug your dainty ears to the serenade?—I' +faith, 'tis high time for your betters to stop their ears, +when asses jog to the pipe. So, you guessed the music +came to benefit your private discourse. An excellent jest +this!—a serenade to a couple of owls.—Get in, you lazy +dolts, and thank your stars, and not your ears, that you have +'scaped a beating.——[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Roland</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Stephano</span>.]——I +wonder these idiots guessed not who drew the serenade +to this long-deserted house. True it may be some +dozen years or more since this same salute awoke me; nevertheless, +I was not past hope of its return. That gallant +stranger whom I saw at vespers yesterday eyed me not, nor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>did he watch the corner of the street, for nought.—Well, it +is a noble-looking cavalier, and a steady, well-ordered person, +I warrant, from his noticing me so properly, and not that +giddy coz of mine, the love-unheeding Hermione.—I hope +he will return. Virgin decorum permitteth not my regard +to his first appearance.—Hark!——[<i>Music.</i>]——Oh! how +my heart flutters! Sweet harbinger of love! I must show +myself, or he will die of despair, or, perchance, he will not +come again, which will suit me still worse. Though, certes, +it would be mightily amusing to feel oneself the cause of a +gay cavalier hanging himself in his garters! What a precious +revenge for the many slights we maidens are subject +to! And then, to have it said, "there goes the signora for +whom signor so and so hanged himself." Oh, how charming +is this moonlight! Really, I am younger to-night than when +I was but one year past thirty. Hush!—ay, I warrant thou +art in love;—I can tell by the turn of thy voice. Senor +Antonio quavered just as thou dost;—but—he was fickle, +and quavered so far he could not get back again. I never +saw him again after his second sky alto!—Hark!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;">SONG.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Fair as the moonbeam,</span> +<span class="i3">Bright as the running stream,</span> +<span class="i4">Sparkling, yet cold.</span> +<span class="i3">In Love's tiny fingers</span> +<span class="i3">A shaft yet there lingers,</span> +<span class="i0">And he creeps near thy bosom and smiles, lady.</span> +<span class="i2">Soon his soft wings will cherish</span> +<span class="i3">A flame round thine heart,</span> +<span class="i2">And, ere it may perish,</span> +<span class="i3">Thy peace shall depart.</span> +<span class="i4">O listen, listen, lady gay,</span> +<span class="i5">Love doth not always sue;</span> +<span class="i4">The brightest flame will oft decay,</span> +<span class="i5">The fondest lover rue, lady!</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +I cannot resist.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">[<i>She waves her hand over the Terrace. A letter is +thrown—she takes it to the lamp, and reads—</i></span><br /> +"Say, fairest, canst thou love? or doth cold scorn compose +the sum of thy affections? Can thine eyes enkindle so +suddenly another's heart, and yet shed no warmth on thine +own? Give me but one smile, and thou shalt frown upon +me for ever: so shall that cheering beam outlive a thousand +dark winters. I am grown bold, for I have but a simple tale, +and if thou wilt lend an ear to my suit, on the Terrace, to-morrow +night at this hour, my presence will not offend thee +again unless thou judgest in my favour.</p> +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 5em;">"<span class="smcap">Carlos.</span>"</span></p> + +<p>So, so,—rather a bold gallant I trow, seeing it is the first he +hath asked of my company; but I guess it is the fashion of +these perilous days. Peradventure, if I had not been beforetime +so careful of my favours, I had been woo'd and wedded +with the best of 'em. After all, I see no great harm in the +company of a handsome young spark, save that the uncourted +dames are envious withal! but verily they would change +their minds mayhap as I do, though every one doth not judge +so charitably as the person who hath chanced to ride on the +other side of his opinion. I scolded the maids though but +yesterday for a night frolic with their sweethearts, and +bravely will Hermione laugh at my sermon, with the +practice thereto appended. Well, I care not—"let those +laugh that get the magpie's nest."—When I am married, +grin who dare;—Carlos, I meet thee!<span style="margin-left: 6em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 33%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<h4>ACT II.—SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>The Duke's Chamber.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +A strange conceit:—where dwellest thou,<br /> +And on what nurtured?—Love on air-fed dreams<br /> +Yet lives not: if in the heart nor hope there be,<br /> +Nor thought, nor token'd glimpse on which to cling<br /> +For daily sustenance, the recreant dies.—<br /> +Repliest thou?—What, nought my monitor?—<br /> +Nay, thou didst rise unbidden on my path,<br /> +With threatening front, and sternly stalked thee forth<br /> +From out thy covert, sent, forsooth, as though<br /> +To warn of menaced danger. Back to thy den!<br /> +Dream there of mischief and invent new terrors;<br /> +I yet can jest, laugh with the laughing dames,<br /> +Sport in their transient blaze, unharm'd, uncensured,<br /> +And ever to thy fond embrace return,<br /> +Beatrice, thence more wedded to thine heart!<br /> +In quiet cease thine oft foreboding ill,<br /> +Nor with unreal fears haunt my repose,<br /> +Lest when thou shouldst arouse, erewhile to rush<br /> +Betwixt me and my purpose, thine alarms<br /> +I heed not, if so oft thy drivelling fancies<br /> +Arise to fool me!——</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter an</i> <span class="smcap">Attendant</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">attendant.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>My Lord, the Lady Hermione visits you to-day.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +My pages—are they summoned?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">attendant.</span></span><br /> +Fabian waits below, in the great hall, just equipped for +the chase.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Let him attend.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Attendant</span>.</span><br /> +The tongue of that gay damsel in mine ear<br /> +Yet rings. I like her wit well, she doth sport<br /> +These humours nobly. Words from her charmed lips<br /> +Do gather sweetness, and the sharpest taunt<br /> +Falls from her harmless, veil'd in the soft tones<br /> +Of her most delicate voice. And yet her presence<br /> +I would not seek; a lurking mystery<br /> +Hangs, or my thought deceives me, fathomless,<br /> +Inscrutable, and dazzling as the veil<br /> +That quells th' intruder's gaze. I watch'd her eye<br /> +In secret yesternight, amid the feast;<br /> +The soul that sate there laugh'd not, but her face<br /> +With radiant smiles was sprinkled, dimpling o'er<br /> +Like the soft waves on summer seas, with such<br /> +Smooth, gentle undulation. Yet her eye<br /> +Ne'er rose nor fell, but fix'd as some stern rock<br /> +Amid that smiling wave. I like not this—<br /> +There's witchery in that glance.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Fabian</span>.</span></p> + +<p>Bring here my tablets, boy:—how goes the news?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +Your grace, perchance, hath heard two gentle strangers<br /> +The abode inquiring of Hermione.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>Beneath Ridolfi's terrace, yesternight,<br /> +Unto her ear they gave, with pipe and lute,<br /> +Sweet signal of their presence.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Where?—the terrace!—</span><br /> +I'll have them seiz'd. Ho!—guards!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter Guard.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Oh, stay!—why thus, my lord!—</span><br /> +The men purpose no mischief, hither bent<br /> +On some love errand; they in this can plot<br /> +None other hurt.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Love! sayest thou?—Whom seek they?—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Hermione, my lord, and she——</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Admits their coming?—Seize them, guards!—<br /> +Why this delay?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">guard.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">My lord, we know not where</span><br /> +Your message hath its reference.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Where lurk the caitiffs, boy?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +Alas! alas! some frenzy masters you:<br /> +One moment wait, one precious moment, ere<br /> +Upon the spotless robe of your fair justice<br /> +Fall this abhorred stain. Pause, I beseech you,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>motions the Guards to withdraw.</i></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>'Tis for yourself I plead!<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Kneels.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Up, boy!—what ails thee? Knowest thou, Fabian,<br /> +Of these intruders?—Speak!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">I know them not.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Then why such ready zeal in their good service?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +My lord, the zeal I now profess<br /> +Seeks but your own. To strangers, courtesy,—<br /> +And faith reciprocal, demands protection.<br /> +This need I tell to Andrea!<br /> +Whose name with purest honour coupled, grew<br /> +Into its likeness, till the very words<br /> +Had but one sense. Need I to Andrea<br /> +Interpret honour's laws? its high-born chivalry,<br /> +In whose once noble breast her temple rose<br /> +Unsullied, unapproach'd by aught of earth,<br /> +To which defilement clung. Think but on this—<br /> +One moment on the past now gaze—'tis bright!<br /> +Oh let not one dark cloud, gathering but yet<br /> +Upon the whirlwind of this turbulent passion,<br /> +Obscure yon sunny glade, where stilly winds<br /> +'Mid verdant hills, calm waters, glittering plains,<br /> +The beamy path of an unclouded life,—<br /> +At one fell sweep, let not this merciless blast<br /> +O'erwhelm its wonted pride!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">beatrice.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Your presence, Andrea, I crave</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>To greet our visitors.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Not now, Beatrice,—</span><br /> +I cannot come. Where sayest thou?—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">beatrice.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">My lord! you are disturb'd!</span><br /> +What!—Fabian, and in tears!—Why this reproof?<br /> +The boy is gentle, and ill brooks harsh words;<br /> +You were not wont to chide him thus!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +'Tis Fabian, I ween, his master chiding.<br /> +'Twas thus:—Two prying and suspicious elves<br /> +I mark'd, to punish. Issuing forth command<br /> +For their arrest, this silly, wayward boy,<br /> +With words and tears, hath temper'd mine intent<br /> +To his entreaty. True, I might but gain<br /> +Small honour by their seizure, hence I've given<br /> +The stripling his desire; yet mark me, Fabian,—<br /> +I watch them closely.——</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hermione</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Laura</span>.</span></p> + +<p>My soul seems pain'd at her approach.<span style="margin-left: 3em;"> [<i>Aside.</i></span><br /> +My gentle cousins, hail! None other name<br /> +Wherewith I greet you sounds so consonant,<br /> +So kin to mine affection. How hath fared<br /> +Each friend in Mantua? Laura, yet as fresh<br /> +As when my childhood knew thee, and thine hand<br /> +Supplied a mother's fondness. Look not grave,<br /> +Thou art not half so old as thou art aged<br /> +In mine esteem.—Hermione, to you<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>I publish greeting.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Our beloved cousin,—</span><br /> +The form I trow your greeting takes.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Sweet coz!</span><br /> +No form I use, I greet thee well, and crave<br /> +Thy long abode in Mantua. Ladies' eyes<br /> +Have most miraculous virtue; they can draw<br /> +The moon from his orbit, and the little stars<br /> +To watch their tender sighs at the soft wail<br /> +Breath'd from a timorous lute. You love the moonlight?<br /> +Why do ye start?—'tis not the first fair dame<br /> +That in our city listen'd i' the cool<br /> +And passionless night, to piped sighs, and vows<br /> +Enamour'd, breathed from reed and flageolet!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Mean you the serenade? 'Twas meant, my lord,<br /> +For other ears than mine.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +How? For the maid's, belike! Sweet, innocent fool,<br /> +Love e'er was held a story-telling urchin;<br /> +Pr'ythee forswear such idle company.<br /> +But whence upon that cheek such tell-tale hues,<br /> +Wrought suddenly in their bright texture?—whence<br /> +That strange confusion? Love's unquenched flame<br /> +Defies control.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">I do confess,—one night,</span><br /> +To while a feverish hour,—I had walk'd forth,—<br /> +I sought the garden-terrace. True, surprise<br /> +A moment cross'd me, when your ear I found<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>Such marvellous tidings heard!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Well, to the maids</span><br /> +'Tis like we are beholden for this minstrelsy.<br /> +Nought living now in that good house would tempt<br /> +Our gallants from their beds.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">And why, your grace?</span><br /> +If older ears enjoy such ravishment,<br /> +I'm not so old, beshrew me, potent Duke,<br /> +But I can wake at true-love's bidding!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Well said,</span><br /> +My maiden-queen! The fire of Zampria's house<br /> +Yet quenches not, nor through thy cooler veins<br /> +Flags in its current.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Yesternight</span><br /> +She sought my chamber. I had left the terrace<br /> +Ere the unyielding maid answer'd her call;<br /> +She came all radiant with love's virgin fire,<br /> +She trod on air, and her quick-throbbing bosom<br /> +All o'er the god confess'd. What says our cousin?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +No need that maiden's blush reveal her secret,<br /> +If such rude, giddy, and discretionless tongues<br /> +Are left abroad.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Nay, Laura, thou hast lived</span><br /> +But in that snowy page, so prettily crimp'd,<br /> +O'er which, thou sayest, love whilom hath brush'd<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>His tiny wings, and deftly to thine heart<br /> +From thence hath sprung. Ah! gentle maid! in mercy<br /> +Vouchsafe to me one touch,—one thrilling touch<br /> +Of that same love-wrought billet,—haply, thence<br /> +The god may come: I'll make the urchin room;<br /> +Or some stray rubbish, hoarded, yet to me<br /> +As worthless, I'll remove.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">So fair a jewel,</span><br /> +To thy rude hand I yield not.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Excellent maid!</span><br /> +Thy jewel I had thought would hence have pass'd,<br /> +A legacy to earth. I'd give my cap<br /> +To view this comely gallant.—So, to thee,<br /> +Hermione, hath love ne'er yet approach'd,—<br /> +Or, if perchance he came, 'twas clad in guise<br /> +Of other import. If on thy chill bosom,<br /> +Smiling, he yet should nestle, archly pouting<br /> +His pretty lip for entrance, wouldst thou grant<br /> +The wanderer room?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">I know not:—now, mayhap,</span><br /> +'Tis not much worth his lodging.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Then its chambers</span><br /> +Are still defil'd with many visitors.<br /> +Or, it may chance, some envious power usurps<br /> +His lawful birthright. Bid thee of such guest,—<br /> +To thy liege lord submit, and pardon crave<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>For past offences.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Where shall I begin</span><br /> +My maiden suit?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Lay but that garb aside,</span><br /> +That glittering panoply, its surface, bright,<br /> +Yet harder than the thrice-quench'd steel,<br /> +No bolt can pierce; and I do promise thee<br /> +A hundred shafts from some well-furnish'd quiver.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +But if those shafts are pointless and unfledg'd,<br /> +A hundred more would boot not!<br /> +Of what avail, though twice ten thousand fell<br /> +Unspeeding at my feet!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Thy fickle fancy,</span><br /> +Yet unfetter'd, will not always thus,<br /> +Gay as the light breeze, rove where'er she list,<br /> +Nor heeding ought she passes. She will droop,<br /> +And, sighing, linger o'er some cherish'd form,<br /> +Enamour'd while she worships.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Mine roves not!</span><br /> +One form I cherish! None I wot beside<br /> +Comes forth at fancy's call. 'Tis not mine own!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Thou speakest riddles.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">And must ever thus.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>Whate'er on this dark theme I could reveal<br /> +Were mystery still, trackless, inscrutable.<br /> +The subtle web in which my fate is bound<br /> +Time serves not to unravel: all beside<br /> +Basks in the broad moonlight. All hopes, desires,<br /> +Each changing hue, as cloud or sunshine sweeps<br /> +Their varied surface, pass without concealment<br /> +Before the eye of watchful day.—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">beatrice.</span></span><br /> +And every maid hath some fond secret,<br /> +Some stored love, that she unwilling keeps<br /> +Until claim'd thence for its blest owner. Why<br /> +That face of solemn mystery brought forth,<br /> +As if thine own were some peculiar fate<br /> +None ever knew?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Our light burden galls</span><br /> +More than the heaviest load our neighbours bear.<br /> +But we return. The day unwitting slides<br /> +Adown the cope of yon bright heaven. Few hours<br /> +Yet come till eve, and Laura looks impatient.<br /> +And wherefore thus, bright cousin?—no sly meeting,<br /> +No time-drawn assignation? Well I know<br /> +The disrespect thou bearest them, or now<br /> +My thoughts would judge thee!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Guard well your giddy charge,</span><br /> +Most vigilant dame, most excellent duenna,<br /> +Lest some gay treacherous gallant should beguile<br /> +Her tender years. Farewell.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +I thank your duteous care. Farewell.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Hermione</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Laura</span>, <i>followed by the</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span><span class="smcap">Duchess</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +A strange wrought mixture thou<br /> +Of our mortality; mingled, perchance,<br /> +By nature in some freakish mood, when tired<br /> +Of that same endless reproduction, man,—<br /> +Still to his fellow mortal answering,<br /> +As, in a mirror, face to face.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +Go you, my lord, to-day, upon the Prado?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +To-day?—yes, boy. But I would change this habit,<br /> +And mix unknown with that gay crowd. 'Tis well—<br /> +Hermione, or strange my thoughts misgive me,<br /> +Now seeks the walk. I'll watch; this paramour<br /> +Or hers or Laura's I may chance discover.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">[<i>Exeunt separately.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE II.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Street.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Carlos</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Bertrand</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +Thou speedest well, thanks to my shrewd invention.<br /> +Yon babbling rogue, Stephano, gave me note<br /> +Of her night walk upon the terrace, where<br /> +I bribed the keeper to admit ye.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">Thanks,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>Thrice worthy friend. But I do fear mine errand;<br /> +Some secret terror burdens mine intent,<br /> +And heavily droops the wing of my firm purpose.<br /> +Dull hope's uncertain beam, foreboding, quivers,<br /> +While the rude blast, low howling in mine ear<br /> +The roar of muttering tempests, sweeps it by,<br /> +And, in that flickering glare, pale spectres glide,<br /> +A mournful train,—sullen despair, pale woe,<br /> +And grisly terror, dwell in their pale looks.<br /> +Would this dread night were o'er!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Some rancorous fiend</span><br /> +Possesses thee. Some stroke of sudden madness<br /> +To thy weak brain hath sped, reversed thy thoughts,<br /> +Turn'd each unto its contrary,—what once<br /> +Waked smiling hope, now brings despair,—love, hate!—<br /> +Joy, measureless sorrow!—Rouse thee! Once thou wert<br /> +Of different mood, and, ere thy clouded sun<br /> +Sinks to his gloomy bed, again his glance<br /> +Shall be unveil'd. I'll be thy prophet! Haste<br /> +From this inglorious sleep! As he of old,<br /> +Thy fetters from thee shake, in terrible might<br /> +Uprising, when awaked from the soft lap<br /> +Of indolent love. Thou lovest but too well,<br /> +Nor mayest thou speed, until she find thee oft,<br /> +With careless port, braving her frown. Wayward,<br /> +The maiden scorns true lover's tenderest sigh,<br /> +And inward pines for some ungracious churl,<br /> +Who slights such light-won favours. 'Tis the good<br /> +We might possess we loath and sicken at,<br /> +For that beyond our reach, we moan and fret,<br /> +As if our very soul were thither urged,<br /> +And life itself but hung on its frail tenure.<br /> +We'll seek the public walk: (woman e'er follows<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>The giddy crowd, as doth your swift-winged hornet<br /> +Hunt forth its prey): it will beguile the hours,<br /> +Till night, with drowsy tongue, calls thee to love<br /> +And to Hermione!<span style="margin-left: 12em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE III.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Chamber.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Laura</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +How this little tyrant rules it over me! Again—[<i>Takes +a letter from her bosom</i>]—I can repeat the words +backwards, tell every turn of a letter, count the dots, blurs, +and crossings; but—[<i>In attempting to replace the billet, it +drops on the floor unperceived</i>]—I think the sun creeps +backward, and then returns, out of sheer spite and maliciousness. +I must not be on the terrace too soon: I'll have him +wait now; it looks more an it were as if I had other business +by the nose than dancing to the pipe of a gay gallant. +Three full hours yet. Alack, alack! I can neither scold the +maids, darn the Venice lace, sort my brother's hose, nor even +turn up the plaitings of my own hair. I'll bethink me of +the gown I must wear that shall best please my cavalier, and +lay it down, to smooth out the folds. Oh, sweet heart! how +tender he looked on me at the Prado to-day. Yes,—the +same,—I gave him an encouraging glance betimes, lest the +youth should wax timorous and melancholy. I hope we +may have a quiet night: the sky looks somewhat wild and +turbid.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hermione</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>How fierce the sun gazes from below that bank of clouds +he has just quitted, as if he threatened us at his going with +some terrible disaster. His beam wraps the city, as with a +mantle of fire bespangled with stars,—here and there a +glittering cross studding its purple vestment: one by one +they are quenched, and the glowing mantle itself fades. A +dark dun haze rests upon the city, and in the west a fiery +streak alone tells of the past. I fear me the night forebodes +a storm.——Carlos, I find, follows me to Mantua. How +the moody wretch and his companion dogged us at the Prado +to-day: I doubled more than a hare at its lasts shifts, to +keep out of their ken. I had hoped he would have forgotten +me ere this; but you may not cram wisdom even down a +mallard's throat.—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sylvio</span>.</span></p> + +<p>Whose message bring you here?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">sylvio.</span></span><br /> +My Lord Duke sends greeting.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Thanks, boy, for his intent. I lack not pleasant compliments.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">sylvio.</span></span><br /> +He hopes, lady, the air of our public walk suits well your +delicate health, and that your spirits droop not in this gay +city.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Tell my Lord Duke, when he next goes with the crowd, +to veil the dark fringe of his eye, and to fashion the bend of +his nose afresh; or the fire of his eye, and his lordly beak, +will betray to every idle flutterer the presence of the proud +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>Duke of Mantua. Good b'ye, Sylvio.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">sylvio.</span></span><br /> +I cannot read this haughty damsel. Ah! what have we +here?—[<i>Picks up the paper Laura has just dropped.</i>]—Something, +I trow, more legible than maiden's breast. +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">[<i>Reads.</i></span><br /> +"<i>Say, fairest, canst thou love</i>,"—I warrant thee—"<i>or +does cold scorn compose the sum of thine affections</i>"—"<i>Grown +bold</i>"—"<i>If thou wilt lend thine ear to my suit on +the terrace to-morrow night at this hour</i>"—A bold suitor, +truly—"<i>I will not offend thee again unless thou judgest in +my favour.</i>"<span style="margin-left: 2em;"> "<span class="smcap">Carlos</span>."</span><br /> +Good b'ye, lady.—[<i>Mimicks her.</i>]—The Duke shall enjoy +this tender morsel. Tell my Lady Hermione, when she +next gives a private meeting to her gallant, to keep her +billet safe, to veil the fringe of her bodice, and raise the beak +of her stomacher, else their shallow covering will betray to +every idle flutterer the secrets of the haughtiest beauty in +Christendom.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE IV.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>The Terrace. The night dark and tempestuous, with distant thunder.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Carlos</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +The night broods heavily, as though<br /> +Gaunt mischief were abroad, and its dun cloak<br /> +Would hide some horror, the yet timid eye<br /> +Shrinks to behold. An hour—a minuted age,<br /> +Ere the appointed moment can break in<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>Upon its tedious march. Hark! footsteps.<br /> +I must conceal——this friendly——Ah, Hermione!<br /> +Thus anxious for the meeting? +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">[<i>Steps behind a pillar.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hermione</span>, <i>with a light; she sets it down at the entrance, +and walks across the Terrace.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Roll on, thou terrible storm,—<br /> +On thy dark brow, the lightnings, as they play,<br /> +Reveal thy rapid march!—<br /> +Spirit of air, that on the untamed winds<br /> +Dost walk, or, on the rushing elements<br /> +Upborne, thy chariot cleaves the groaning sky,—<br /> +Whether to me thou speakest with rude voice<br /> +Of unstill'd tempest, or in whispering breath<br /> +From morn's flower-fragrant breeze,—I hail thy presence.<br /> +Bear in thine hand hot thunder-bolts,<br /> +The whirlwind on thy wing, the cloud-swoln cataract<br /> +Burst on the reeking earth,—dauntless I'll make<br /> +Terror my pastime, sport in their turmoil,<br /> +And with the storm-careering demon's shriek<br /> +My bitter laugh shall mingle. These are but<br /> +The harmless play of innocent childhood,—<br /> +So fierce the storm that desolates my soul!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">[<i><span class="smcap">Carlos</span> comes from behind the pillar, and hesitatingly +approaches.</i></span><br /> +Soft—Who approaches?—How!—Don Carlos!<br /> +Whence this intrusion?—Speak not, but begone!<br /> +I hear thee not. Touch but my garment,<br /> +Shuddering, I'll shake thee off, as some vile reptile<br /> +My senses loathe. Hence, ere I spurn thee!<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>hastily, his sword drawn.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Draw, villain!—guard thine hated carcass!<br /> +Unsheath, bewildered fool, lest I should spike thee<br /> +On this good weapon!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">[<i>They engage.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Help!—How fierce they fight!—Lights!<br /> +Ho!—within!—<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<span class="smcap">Carlos</span> <i>falls.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Oh, I'm wounded!—</span><br /> +There, may thy paramour complete thy work,<br /> +Unblushing traitress!—Home to my heart—<br /> +Strike deep! thou canst not give so keen a thrust<br /> +As her rude tongue!—Haste, ere thy weapon cool;—<br /> +Yet, ere I die, Hermione—I loved thee once,<br /> +Now—from my heart I proudly tear thine image,<br /> +Blotting it out for ever, as the memory<br /> +Of some loathed wanton!—Hence!—haunt not my sight,<br /> +Fell murderess!—Now unbar my prison, death!—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Nay,—I'll not haste thee to thy last acquittance,<br /> +Ill-fated wretch!—I do repent mine haste.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Bertrand</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +Foul deeds betray ye, sirs!—Carlos!<br /> +Wounded!—Unhand him, villain!—'tis to thee<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>He owes this bitter thrust. If thou art aught<br /> +But what I deem thee, by the earliest dawn<br /> +Again we meet. The outskirts of yon wood,<br /> +Nigh to the city, with thy weapon, there<br /> +Uphold thee for this most unjust assault.<br /> +An innocent man, if yet protection be<br /> +Upon the stranger in proud Mantua,<br /> +I bear to his abode; but on thy head<br /> +His blood doth rest, a dastard's recreant crow<br /> +Down drawing Heaven's hot vengeance!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Ridolfi, Laura</span>, <i>and Attendants, with lights.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +Oh! they have slain him! Help! Who dealt this blow?<br /> +Sweetheart, for love thou diest, and for love,<br /> +Malicious fate! thy maiden too must die.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">[<span class="smcap">Bertrand</span> <i>bears off</i> <span class="smcap">Carlos</span>.</span><br /> +Yet stay, Carlos! I follow thee.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">ridolfi.</span></span><br /> +Nay, maid, content thee;<br /> +Thou followest not this stranger.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">laura.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Oh, he was mine!</span><br /> +But they have ta'en him.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">ridolfi.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Thine! Some demon sure</span><br /> +Makes ye his sport. My Lord—the Duke—I dream—<br /> +This night, methinks, the storm doth send confusion<br /> +To men's calm thoughts, o'ermaster'd with its frenzy.<br /> +On they would rush, malign, to the fulfilment<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>Of some sure, unscaped doom.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">I know not whence</span><br /> +These changes come,—inexplicable, dark<br /> +As lies my fate,—the abyss to which I hasten!<br /> +My lord, can you unriddle these events?<br /> +Your presence would denote, at least to me,<br /> +Some knowledge of their bearing.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +A pleasant jest, from me to ask the key!<br /> +It hangs in thy bosom, lady. Friends, farewell!<br /> +I hasten hence ere this unpitying tempest<br /> +Its fiercest burst, its gathering deluge pour;<br /> +Cataracts of forked fire, commingled torrents,<br /> +From the wide womb of the vexed elements.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Farewell, my lord! some other time we meet.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Farewell, my friends! another hour must tell<br /> +My purpose here this night.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 33%;" /> + +<h4>ACT III.—SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Chamber in the Palace.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>at a table, surveying his sword.</i></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Mischievous weapon!</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>I would forswear thy company: but now<br /> +We cannot part. Blameless,—inanimate,—<br /> +The heart alone makes thee its passive tool<br /> +To work the several ills its thought conceives!<br /> +What art thou, senseless steel? cold, motionless,<br /> +Incapable of ought, or fraud or injury,—<br /> +No dire intent there broods, no passionate flame<br /> +Mix'd with thy temper, flashes o'er the obscure,<br /> +The restless gulf within, troubling the spirit;<br /> +A fitful gleam, on the dark surges wreathing<br /> +Forms of unutterable horror,—wide<br /> +Disclosing from the womb—the fathomless womb<br /> +Of that abyss!—Would the events,<br /> +The brief record of time, the narrow space<br /> +By yesternight enclosed, were blotted out,<br /> +Effaced for ever. I must meet thee, stranger,—<br /> +Thou may'st avenge thy friend.—Hermione!—<br /> +Why should I start?—a sound—a bursting bubble<br /> +Moves me. Hermione!—Again!—This heart<br /> +Not so hath leapt in the loud roar of battle!<br /> +'Tis folly—madness,—yet she marks me out—<br /> +Gazes so strangely,—'twere an idle thought,<br /> +But from her soul, methinks, such pulses come<br /> +Of wild, unworded passion, as they'd mingle,<br /> +Perforce, with every faculty, desire,<br /> +And through each avenue rush, thralling the will<br /> +Unto its influence. Those basilisk eyes<br /> +Are on me ever! Asleep, awake, they change not.<br /> +'Tis fascination! If such spell there be,<br /> +Hermione doth use it! Yet enchains she not<br /> +Others unto the like. I've watch'd her thus,<br /> +How angrily,—as the quick lightning sped,<br /> +The night uncovering from her form,—I saw<br /> +Her eagle-glance the timorous love-sick wretch<br /> +Strike helpless at her feet. It is not love,—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>A spell earth owns not hangs upon my heart!—<br /> +I love Beatrice; yet more tenderly<br /> +Unto her bosom mine affections cling,<br /> +The more this parasite, this foul excrescence<br /> +Preys on my vitals, wastes mine healthful spirit,<br /> +Poisoning life's current even at its source.<br /> +I'll shake me from these toils: I knew not when<br /> +The cunning net was thrown, so light the texture;<br /> +And warily I wot the snare was laid,<br /> +Or I had 'scaped it.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">This unwelcome dawn</span><br /> +Comes dimly on the casement;—heavily<br /> +The day's dull beam seems labouring up the sky,—<br /> +Low hang the clouds, huge relics of the storm,<br /> +Like dark reflections brooding o'er the mind<br /> +When passion's rudest burst hath pass'd, and reason,<br /> +As yon pale gleam, thus struggling forth its way<br /> +Through adverse clouds, visits again the soul—<br /> +'Tis then the mind, shuddering, at once recoils<br /> +From the dire consequence, and conjures up<br /> +A thousand possibilities to scare<br /> +The resolute purpose. I linger at the threshold<br /> +Of this proceeding. I will not fight thee, stranger;<br /> +I've wrong'd thy friend. His death, yet unappeased,<br /> +Clings to my burden'd spirit: I'll atone<br /> +If yet there be of reparation aught<br /> +This hand can give. Sylvio!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sylvio</span>.</span></p> + +<p>Attend me with the weapons.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE II.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>An unfrequented Place, on the Outskirts of a Wood, +without the Walls.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Bertrand</span> <i>and two Attendants.</i></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +How goes the morn?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">first attendant.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">When past the rock,</span><br /> +Methought the convent bell chimed there for matins.<br /> +Heard you it, signor?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +I know not. Is the hour yet gone?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">first attendant.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">What hour?</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +Does the day dawn?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">second attendant.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Ay; but night-lurking clouds</span><br /> +Shut out the approaching light. One short, wan streak,<br /> +As if in the branches of yon distant oak,<br /> +Alone brings niggard tidings.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Hark!—footsteps.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">first attendant.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">It is the tread</span><br /> +Of some roused deer: upon the rustling leaves<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>Man's bolder foot falls not so lightly.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +The day its custom'd hour forgets,<br /> +And lingers in its chamber, loth to rise,<br /> +With unveil'd face, on the wide ruin<br /> +Of this hush'd tempest.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">first attendant.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Look towards the east!</span><br /> +The light breaks rapidly athwart its face.<br /> +You look not, signor. Hear you the——</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>, <i>disguised.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +Welcome, if thou art he—the foe I meet.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +The same; but not thy foe.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">That hated voice!</span><br /> +Revenge it cries. Prepare! no more delay!<br /> +Draw, dastard! or thy recreant blood I'll pour<br /> +Unfought for to this earth.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">[<span class="smcap">Bertrand</span> <i>makes the attack, the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>keeping +on the defensive.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +Thou wardest but my blows; fight, villain!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>makes a parry, and immediately +disarms</i> <span class="smcap">Bertrand</span>.</span><br /> +I seek not mercy. None would I have given<br /> +If I had seen thee thus.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>Take back thy sword. How fares thy friend?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +If he recover, hate to thee, unceasing,<br /> +And to Hermione, he vows for ever!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Does he recover?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Wherefore askest thou?</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Nay, chafe me not:—passion but slowly sinks<br /> +If still the wind buffet the boiling wave!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +Thou threatenest well. I can defy thy wrath.<br /> +Another stroke might change the haughty hue<br /> +Of thy proud boast.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">first attendant.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Nay, be at peace—again</span><br /> +Ye may not quarrel. Soft, good signor, sheath<br /> +Your perilous weapon. 'Tis not just we wait<br /> +Another issue with decided strife.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Farewell!</span><br /> +I would depart while better reason yet<br /> +Keeps stedfast watch.<span style="margin-left: 10em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Cool-hearted wretch!</span><br /> +Thy passion kept not pace with thine occasion,<br /> +Else had it minister'd to other issues.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>Anger disarm'd me—not thine arm, assassin.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">first attendant.</span></span><br /> +Yet hath he braved it nobly, and, methinks,<br /> +A better name hath earn'd in thy report.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">second attendant.</span></span><br /> +Knowest thou thy foe?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">What need? His name I wot not.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">second attendant.</span></span><br /> +The Duke!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The Duke?—of Mantua!</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">second attendant.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">'Tis he!</span><br /> +A nobler heart beneath a truer breast<br /> +Ne'er beat. I watch'd his bearing as he gave<br /> +The weapon back to thy reluctant grasp:<br /> +'Twas just the air, the lofty temper'd port,<br /> +I've seen him use, when, with proud condescension,<br /> +Gracious—yet bating nought his dignity,—<br /> +He deals such pardon to the trembling culprit<br /> +As makes the offence yet doubly heinous.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +I ask'd of him no favour—where the crime?<br /> +'Twas unprovoked; he rush'd upon my friend,—<br /> +They fought,—he fell,—and I had hoped to avenge<br /> +The sufferer's wrong. But whence?—'tis wondrous strange.<br /> +Hermione!—the Duke!—the proud Hermione<br /> +A prince's paramour! It cannot be.<br /> +So fair, so noble, yet——There's mystery here;<br /> +I must unravel this perplexed web,<br /> +Or perish in its toils!<span style="margin-left: 11em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE III.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Balcony, overlooking the Garden.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Hermione</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Blanch</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +I am sad, Blanch.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +I would, lady, you were in your little toilet-chamber at<br /> +Venice. You were not sad there once. Why stay you in +this unlucky house? I do conceive, that I shall have no +more heart soon than hath your goose-quill, nor life within +me than a dried puff-ball. When go you to Venice, lady?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Never!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +Oh, sweet mistress; and must we die in this dismal city?<br /> +My very countenance hath changed its fashion, forsooth; +being smoke-dried and tarnished, like your two years' hung +stock-fish. I do fear me that I shall pine with home-longings; +and the sight of yon garlick-faced knave, Stephano, +for ever at my heels, turns me sick when he gets within +stride of me. But you jest, lady.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Blanch, thou hast been kinder to me than my fate hath +answered for; and I give thee good counsel when I tell thee +to return to Venice. Stay not with me; for soon the high, the +proud-spirited Hermione will——I shall soon lay me in the +quiet grave—and thou wilt grieve to see me sink—so young—so +<i>early</i> to my doom. I look fresh, mayhap, and blooming, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>and they call me happy; but I am withered—here!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +Oh, lady, you will break my heart! (<i>Weeps.</i>) I will not +go! If they bear you to the grave, I will follow you +there to weep, and to quiet myself beside you.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Thou art kind, Blanch. I would thou hadst a happier +mistress, thou wouldest, peradventure, be happy too.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +What frets you so keenly? I would compass sea and +land to fetch you a morsel of comfort. Do tell me, lady. +They say sorrow hath companionship, and loves its like.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Ask it not, girl: I would not tell it to the winds, lest +they should babble it again; I would not whisper it to +mine own heart, lest each pulse should echo it back to mine +ear; I dare not think on 't, lest my very thoughts should +create a corporeal voice to utter it withal. Other sorrows +have companionship, but mine hath none!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter Servant.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">servant.</span></span><br /> +The strange gipsy woman your ladyship gave an alms to +yesterday waits without, asking to see you. I would have +put her away, but she looked on me, and I shuddered as I +approached her.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Bid her come in.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +How it would delight me to have my fortune cast; but—my<br /> +fate answers to your own!<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Zorayda</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Why this silence?—Thy message.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +Askest thou?—Thanks!—What marvel? they speak not<br /> +With unembodied tongue!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Thou comest, then,</span><br /> +But on a thankless errand; I dispense<br /> +With empty words.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Why then I go unaudienced.</span><br /> +I would not vex thee, lady;—thou art strung<br /> +By unseen anguish, e'en to the topmost pitch<br /> +Thy nature bears. One other strain, it breaks!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +What knowest thou?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">That other comes!</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Too soon,</span><br /> +I wot, these heart-strings break not. How, beldame?<br /> +Thy prying eyes gather some secret. Hence<br /> +With the silly maids thou tamperest, and anon<br /> +The mistress' ear greets her own confidence;<br /> +But not on me impose thy mummeries:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>None other breast than mine yet holds its trust.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +What proof requirest thou, ere faith admit<br /> +My proffer'd testimony?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Proof!</span><br /> +What thou, weak fool—the crazed and worn-out plaything<br /> +Of thy too credulous fancies—cannot give.<br /> +Reveal my thoughts!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">But if disclosed, there now</span><br /> +Be other ears to listen, lady.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Blanch,</span><br /> +Awhile thou may'st withdraw.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">blanch.</span></span><br /> +How fierce her eye scowls! I marvel that her brows<br /> +should escape a singeing.—I would not leave you, gentle<br /> +mistress, until——</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +Begone!——<span style="margin-left: 1em;"> [<span class="smcap">Hermione</span> <i>smiles, and motions</i> <span class="smcap">Blanch</span> <i>to +depart. Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Blanch</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Now to thy task.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +What bearest thou, with such o'er-vigilant watch,<br /> +In that fair bosom?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 8em;">Marry, my heart; what more?</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +'Tis then but late return'd: the truant once<br /> +Had left its home—what served thee in its place,<br /> +Knowest thou yet, gentle dame?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">I note thy craft:</span><br /> +Thou busiest me with questions, hoping thus<br /> +To catch unheeded words for thine advantage—<br /> +I answer nothing.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">None I crave, fair maiden.</span><br /> +An empty billet is but poor exchange<br /> +For the heart's losing!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">How—a billet! Where?</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +In that bright bosom, lady. Search it well—<br /> +And yet a thing of nought: 'tis but a form,<br /> +An every-day express of custom'd greeting,<br /> +But as a precious relic thou dost wear it;<br /> +And 'tis to thee a coveted possession<br /> +Of more esteem than the sun-ripen'd gems<br /> +Golconda bears!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Is this my unveil'd thought?</span><br /> +Not thus I'm fool'd. Perchance thy cunning eye,<br /> +For ever on the watch, hath spied this billet.<br /> +'Tis here. What more knowest thou?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Reserve thy scorn,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>'Twill soon give place——Hark!<span style="margin-left: 4em;"> [<i>Distant music.</i></span><br /> +Ah! start not thus.—Why that frail shudder?<br /> +Yon guest within the chamber of thine ear<br /> +Ere this hath had sweet audience. But come,<br /> +My pretty spirit, hither speed, and frame<br /> +Thine uncorporeal organ to the sound<br /> +Of bodily voice.—[<i>Music approaches.</i>]—Hark, lady!—ever knew<br /> +Your ear aforetime yon wild melody?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;">SONG.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Lady, list to me,</span> +<span class="i8">Thy gentle spirit I'll be;</span> +<span class="i0">The fire is my garment, the flood is my bed,</span> +<span class="i0">And I paint the first cloud with the sunbeam red</span> +<span class="i2">That rolls o'er the broad blue sea.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Lady, list to me;</span> +<span class="i8">To the mountain top I flee,</span> +<span class="i0">There I watch the first wave that comes laden with light,</span> +<span class="i0">And its soft hue I spread o'er each billow so bright;</span> +<span class="i0">With its beam I enkindle each heaven-peering height,</span> +<span class="i2">And the morn's radiant canopy.</span> +</div></div> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Mysterious being, say from whence that voice!<br /> +But once—and on such feverish perception,<br /> +The sound did strike, I thought some air-form'd vision,<br /> +Some fantasy, hot from the teeming brain,<br /> +Imposed unreal conceptions on mine ear,<br /> +To which sense held no cognizance. Say where,<br /> +Thou awful visitor!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +'Twas on the terrace, when the charmed moon<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>Hung o'er the trembling stream. And thinkest thou<br /> +Spirits have not such utterance?—Oft unseen,<br /> +Upon the viewless air, strange visions float,<br /> +And voices people the unfetter'd blast,<br /> +Vouchsafed not save to those who reverence<br /> +And bow to their high bidding. Now—they speak!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +And to what import?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Thus the mystic chant.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the proud eagle</span> +<span class="i1">Sighs to the dove,</span> +<span class="i0">And his dark wing spreads o'er her</span> +<span class="i1">While fluttering with love:</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That eagle's bright crest,</span> +<span class="i1">And that dove's timid eye,</span> +<span class="i0">Are quench'd in the storm</span> +<span class="i1">That rolls recklessly by!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That storm the proud eagle</span> +<span class="i1">Hath swept from his nest:</span> +<span class="i0">But where is the dove</span> +<span class="i1">Shelter'd once in his breast?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She clings to his plume,</span> +<span class="i1">But in death they shall sever;</span> +<span class="i0">The eagle and dove</span> +<span class="i1">They have perish'd for ever!</span> +</div></div> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +The eagle?—Mantua's crest!—But who the dove?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +Tempt not yet further to thine harm: we rue<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>If thou break silence!<br /> +The spirit sings, but mine imperfect hearing<br /> +Shapes not its voice to aught articulate<br /> +That human utterance owns. Again—speak not—<br /> +'Twas thus he sang:</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A sprite in the moon-beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A mote in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dive in the smooth stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through the curl'd flame I run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see o'er proud Mantua<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The beacon's red light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the taper 'tis quench'd<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the chill blast of night!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see from the turret<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A maiden's dim form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her white robe waves high<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the wing of the storm!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear a loud shriek,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With the wail of the dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that spirit from thence<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To its Giver hath fled!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Some dire event breaks from the womb of time:<br /> +To thee the spirit speaks. Hermione,<br /> +If yet three days on this forbidden air<br /> +Thou breathest, Mantua and her lord<br /> +May dearly rue thy longer stay. 'Tis past.<br /> +I heed not further question. Well I know<br /> +The winds I counsel, and the turbulent flood<br /> +To soothe its rage. On, if some power prevent not,<br /> +Madly ye rush to your undoing; then,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>Fair city, thy glad voice to woe shall turn;<br /> +The loud lament, the chill and desolate wail<br /> +Of thy bereavement shall ascend, piercing,<br /> +Unpitied, the dun pall of heaven!<br /> +Follow me not——<br /> +Once more I meet thee:—if too soon, beware!<br /> +Thine hours are number'd.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Three days!—Where shall I fly?—To what lone spot<br /> +Can I escape? Has this wide earth no room?—<br /> +Measureless woe!—too vast for mortal limit!—<br /> +Yon wild enthusiast, her impostor's craft<br /> +Hath here some secret consequence to which<br /> +These bodings tend—cheat! Nay, thou didst affix<br /> +Fearful credentials to thy testimony;<br /> +They wore the impress of truth. None but that gaze<br /> +Which scans the soul, may the unvisited depths<br /> +Of mind reveal, its untold subtilties<br /> +Unto the eye disclosing. But three days!<br /> +Yet once—one sad farewell!<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE IV.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Chamber in the Inn.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Carlos</span> <i>on a couch, attended by</i> <span class="smcap">Giulio</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +I thank thee, Giulio.<br /> +The couch feels easier from thine hand. 'Tis now<br /> +But as a troublesome scratch, scarce worth the pains<br /> +To work its cure. Another strain—thy lute<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>Strange chords doth waken, long untuned, forgot,<br /> +Slumbering untouch'd within my breast, the sound<br /> +Breathes on them sweetly; at its marvellous bidding,<br /> +Startled they wake, quivering once more to life.<br /> +I love these ancient ballads, they do savour<br /> +O' the olden time.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">giulio.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Good signor, my poor music</span><br /> +Suits not this garnish'd age:—a simple air<br /> +That lives in the heart, and floats o'er the still depths<br /> +Of long-lapsed recollections, freshening<br /> +Their stagnant surface with soft impulse—this,<br /> +Brief skill!—'tis all I claim.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">[<i>Touches the chords to a slight prelude.</i></span><br /> +They are but snatches of old songs, signor;<br /> +Broken as fragments of the imperishing columns<br /> +Whitening some arid desert; but they are hallow'd<br /> +By the same hand that spoil'd them!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">They are bonds</span><br /> +That with the past yet link our purer thoughts,<br /> +Our most unsullied affections. Still<br /> +The voice of other years breathes through them,<br /> +As the low breeze, while creeping timorously<br /> +Around some ancient ruin, wailing there<br /> +Sad echoes of departed greatness.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">giulio</span> <i>sings.</i></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">There is a wood, there is a cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There is a gentle river;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">There is a home where I am not,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But where I would be ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And adown the green valley the meadows were fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>And the breeze came to woo the young daffodils there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">There is a lip I have not press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A heart yet coldly beating;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">But true love's throb within that breast<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will wake at others' greeting.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And adown through the valley the morn shone so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the breeze gently kiss'd the young bud blushing there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">And thou wilt light thy taper cold<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At some gay treacherous eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Its flame shall still thy soul enfold<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When lovers' glance shall die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And adown the green valley, while morn shone so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breeze sigh'd, and left the young bud weeping there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +Woman loves not her true lover,<br /> +A treacherous lewdster best o'ersteps her grace!—<br /> +Another, Giulio: I could live in them—<br /> +They feed the soul, as doth ambrosia<br /> +The mighty gods.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">giulio</span> <i>sings.</i></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let me rest mine head, lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On thy bended knee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every pulse to thine beats true;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I would 'twere so with thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sing heigho!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Under the willow tree<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My cheek will not harm thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Start not from thy rest——<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +Cease!—I do remember me the ballad<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>Thou gavest yesterday. Upon my brain<br /> +So loud the music rings, this chaunt I hear not.—<br /> +Prithee again thy strings touch to the carol.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">giulio.</span></span><br /> +Yet by your preference I know it not.<br /> +How name you the ballad?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +'Twas of the pilgrim, and his goodly benison.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">giulio.</span></span><br /> +Thus? (<i>Plays.</i>)</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The same.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">giulio</span> <i>sings.</i></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The chase was done, the feast was begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the monarch sate proudly high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the revelry rode on the wind afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As it swept from the darkening sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No lordly guest——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Bertrand</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +Welcome. I grew oppress'd from thy long absence—<br /> +But why that heavy, that disquieted brow?<br /> +Some choler, scarce dismiss'd, hath moved thee!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +The Duke—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Didst thou complain to him</span><br /> +Touching my wrong?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 10em;">I did.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Yet I have heard</span><br /> +This prince o'er all his peers hereto extoll'd,<br /> +The mirror of true courtesy; embodying<br /> +The proud and chivalrous spirit of his time.—<br /> +How spake he?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Few his words;—but this good sword—</span><br /> +Bitter degradement!——Yon proud Duke, he gave—<br /> +When from this recreant hand the traitor fell!<br /> +He had disarm'd me, Carlos!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">He!—You fought?</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +Ay, with the Duke—thy mistress' paramour!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +The Duke!—<i>Her</i> paramour!—<br /> +'Tis fuel to my hate.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">How fares thy wound?</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +This?—where?—'tis well.—These garments I shake off,<br /> +And put on my revenge—its panoply<br /> +Shall case my bosom.—Henceforth unto all<br /> +Compunction dead, and steel'd to every touch<br /> +Of natural sympathy, mine o'ercharged hate,<br /> +As the veil'd fire, pent in yon gathering cloud,<br /> +Deep-brooding waits, in fearful silence crouching,<br /> +Or ere it strike——'Twas for this minion<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>She spurn'd me!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Such my hate to Andrea.</span><br /> +Together and in secret we devise—<br /> +Yet not with such precipitate haste, our counsel,<br /> +As shall defeat its own resolve—some plan<br /> +To furnish our revenge.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE V.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Chamber in the Palace.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Arouse thee!—fly.<br /> +Ere yet the fetters closer to thine heart<br /> +Are riveted—immoved for ever!<br /> +Thou counsellest well—these are ignoble trammels.<br /> +And I do rid me of them. Once—'tis fix'd—<br /> +A short, sad hour we meet, and then farewell!<br /> +Duty, remorseless, bids me.—There I'll pour<br /> +Into her wondering ear a hapless tale<br /> +Of thwarted love—hearts broken, severed<br /> +By obdurate fate—and in that feign'd lament,<br /> +Bewail mine own.—I must my story tell;<br /> +None other cause could I with honour urge<br /> +Why thus we part—for ever!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Fabian</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +My lord, a woman of strange aspect,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>And habited in Eastern garb, sits now<br /> +Within the western porch, waiting your presence.<br /> +She would not tell to me her errand.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">How—</span><br /> +A stranger, and from whence?—Knowest thou her name?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +She holds most resolute silence—I forebore<br /> +To question her.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Describe this sullen guest.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +A turban girds her brow, white as the sea-foam,<br /> +Whence, all untrammelled, her dark thin hair<br /> +Streams fitfully upon her storm-beat front;<br /> +Her eye at rest, pale fire in its black orb<br /> +Innocuous sleeps—but roused, Jove's thunder-cloud<br /> +Enkindles not so fiercely! Once it shot<br /> +Full on mine eye:—in dazzling terror yet<br /> +It haunts my brain!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">How eloquent the tongue</span><br /> +When the soul stirs it!—I would see, unharm'd,<br /> +This quickenéd volcano!<span style="margin-left: 7em;"> [<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Fabian</span>.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Some moon-struck wanderer</span><br /> +Craving redress for her wrong'd fancies.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Fabian</span> <i>followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Zorayda</span>; <i>she stands in silence +gazing at the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>.</span></p> + +<p>Woman, what seekest thou?—Doth silence best<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>Declare thine errand?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Silence best, my lord,</span><br /> +Should tell thy destiny—Heaven hath commanded<br /> +To speak no evil.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +A rare conceit.—What more?—Is this thy message?<br /> +Haste,—we command not back the passing time:—<br /> +To thy request.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Much need hast thou to note</span><br /> +These priceless minutes;—let no fragment slip<br /> +Ungathered.—Yet my boon thou wilt not grant!<br /> +Seest thou yon shadow?— +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">[<i>She beckons him to the window.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Nought this ungifted eye beholds<br /> +But the dark battlement upon the stream,<br /> +Spread by the tranquil moon.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Seest thou yon pennon</span><br /> +Furl'd from the turret, floating on the verge<br /> +Of that still, sedgy shore?—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Its shadow falls</span><br /> +Where thou dost point;—but how may this befit<br /> +With thy request?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">At thy far-echoing birth,</span><br /> +When hoarse artillery told to Mantua,<br /> +Thy wailing entrance to a troublous life,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>Yon trembling shadow fell, as now it meets,<br /> +Just on the rippled bank,—uniting each—<br /> +The calm wave and the shore.—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Thy meaning, stranger.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +Ere yet the bubbling life crept through thy veins,<br /> +'Twas thus decreed: thine hour of danger comes,<br /> +And sudden death, when that dim shadow passes<br /> +Where at thy birth it brooded.—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">(<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Fabian</span>.) Watch this woman;</span><br /> +Suspicion wakes at her discourse.—(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Zorayda</span>.)—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That shadow</span><br /> +Hath oft-time pass'd, no danger thence betiding.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +Thy death can happen not, save when, as now,<br /> +The pale moon flings yon omen from her beam;<br /> +But ever it bodes danger.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">For this purpose</span><br /> +Enterest thou my chamber?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">I have sought thee</span><br /> +To give rejected counsel.—What! some treachery<br /> +From me thou fearest!—Bind me—gird my chains<br /> +To the unhewn rock beneath the unvisited depths<br /> +Of these abhorr'd foundations—I would wear them<br /> +Without a murmur could'st thou listen!—Hark!<br /> +Thus runs the record of thy house:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"When the proud eagle</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>From his cloud-wreath'd nest</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Enamour'd meets the dove,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And sighs on her soft bosom,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>One shaft shall pierce them."</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Duke, beware——that shaft shall come!<br /> +Let it not find thee in that perilous hour,<br /> +Prescience forebodes thee, at some lady's ear<br /> +Sighing unhallowed love.—Its malice then<br /> +Harms not thy breast, another bears the stroke!<br /> +Remember—once again I meet thee. +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Zorayda</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +My lord, the guard shall rid you of the witch.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Let her depart, she harms me not.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">fabian.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">You seem</span><br /> +O'erspent with watching, and forget your couch.—<br /> +Betake you now to your accustom'd rest?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +My <i>rest</i>?—'Tis well;—but will the couch give rest?<br /> +Ay, to the wearied limb—but not the weary breast!<br /> +Follow me, boy, unto my chamber.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 33%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> + +<h4>ACT IV.—SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Church.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter two</i> <span class="smcap">Citizens</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">first citizen.</span></span><br /> +Strange omens these!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">second citizen.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">They bode disaster, else</span><br /> +Hath Nature changed, and her accustom'd course<br /> +No longer holds.—See, from the ducal vault<br /> +The stone—o'er which its mailed warrior rests<br /> +In such grim pomp—is roll'd, as if that mouth<br /> +Expectant yawn'd for prey.—How comes it thus?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">third citizen.</span></span><br /> +Some swarth attendant, late within the tomb,<br /> +Hath left unclosed its yet insatiate gulf;<br /> +And he returns ere long.—His task complete,<br /> +This stone, oft visited, regains its place;—<br /> +Would it were closed for ever!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">second citizen.</span></span><br /> +Ne'er to his country's weal a truer prince<br /> +Shall rise in Mantua—all proper tongues<br /> +To his just praise are eloquent;—no voice<br /> +But gathers blessing, when it speaks of Andrea.<br /> +I'll peep o'er the dark wall of this huge grave.<br /> +Fresh wonders still!—Here lie funeral trappings<br /> +Covering the entrance;—an inscription too<br /> +Upon the pall—[<i>Reads</i>]—"<i>Andrea, the fifth Duke<br /> +Of Mantua</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>"—a goodly list of honours,<br /> +Names and illustrious acts, now follow—"<i>Died</i>"—<br /> +I cannot tell those mystic characters—<br /> +Canst thou assign their import?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">first citizen.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">I am not skill'd</span><br /> +To interpret mysteries; but they are form'd<br /> +By cabalistic art. Elsewhere I've seen<br /> +The conjuror, Aldenbert, those uncouth shapes<br /> +Upon his tablets tracing. 'Tis not language<br /> +Akin to mortal tongue.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">second citizen.</span></span><br /> +Treason, I wot, with bold and impious front,<br /> +Stalks forth uncheck'd:—it skulks not now abroad,<br /> +But in the open day roams unabash'd,<br /> +Nor shuns the sunbeam. Some unform'd event<br /> +Is yet in ripening—it bursts ere long<br /> +The shell of this dread mystery.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Grave-digger</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Priest</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">grave-digger.</span></span><br /> +None, father, save the Egyptian woman, who so troubles +the church. She slept in the porch yesternight, and I sent +her away this morning betimes.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">priest.</span></span><br /> +Thou hast sent a message to the Duke?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">grave-digger.</span></span><br /> +Some half-hour agone.—I expect his highness in person +will take special note of this matter.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 10em;"><span class="smcap">priest.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>I fear me they be foes, enemies to the Duke, who have +done this.—Treachery puts on bold aspects, when such foretokenings +as these go before her, with loud admonishing of +her approach. Here comes the Duke.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Attendants</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Good morrow, friends. I am something curious to behold +this device.—Some trick of intimidation, your petty wonder-monger +breeds to set our citizens agape.—You have not +disturbed this masked frolic?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">grave-digger.</span></span><br /> +My lord, it rests in such shape as when it scared me +dismally ere the light was well out, about cock-crowing.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Knowest thou any skulking vagrant of late loitering near +the church?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">grave-digger.</span></span><br /> +None, your grace, save the tall gipsy—she slept in the +porch yesternight.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +The gipsy woman?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">grave-digger.</span></span><br /> +She, with the linen turban, that walks the city with her +arms folded—thus.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +She was in the porch?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">grave-digger.</span></span><br /> +I waked her there, but roughly, an hour agone.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>Here hangs some clue to guide us.—I'll have the beldame +seized.—Raise that unseemly pall from the tomb, and close +its mouth.—This inscription I'll keep as a brief chronicle of +the event.—[<i>Takes off the inscription: a billet falls from beneath +it.</i>]—What counsels us here? One wonder treads +fast upon another's heels, and o'ertops its neighbour.—[<i>Reads.</i>]—"<i>I +have garnished thy tomb, and it waiteth not +for its prey. Depart!—When thou goest forth, but once +shalt thou return hither!</i>"—Guard, search the city—every +chink and avenue.—To your utmost speed.—This hag shall +not escape.—Hence!—[<i>Exit Guard.</i>]—My friends, let not +this matter trouble you; some mischievous spirit hath malice +at our peace, and hopes to work confusion within the city.—Soon +we unravel the flimsy web of this strange craft. +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">[<i>Exeunt.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE II.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Hermione</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Laura hath not yet<br /> +Put off her sorrow.—Still doth fancy cherish<br /> +The darling form of yon misguided youth<br /> +Your lord encounter'd on the terrace.—<br /> +With long entreaty I have learnt his name;<br /> +And, as my yet unquestion'd word befits,<br /> +'Tis but a cast-off suitor of mine own!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duchess</span></span><br /> +I fear me this adventure still broods mischief.<br /> +The Duke somehow had strange intelligence<br /> +Of danger threatened to Hermione.—<br /> +On that same night he watch'd, and foil'd the ruffian,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>But he forebore to afflict him farther.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Strange—</span><br /> +This brief-told tale—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Welcome—thrice welcome now.</span><br /> +By what good chance, my lord, sought you the terrace<br /> +Few nights agone?—Some stray intelligence,<br /> +The Duchess tells, crept to your ear of danger<br /> +To me denounced!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Some secret whisper met me of the matter.<br /> +Know you this billet?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Forsooth its fair outside</span><br /> +Small import gives of such unworthy deed.—<br /> +I know not, save at once you dare commit<br /> +Its contents to my ken.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Well spoken, lady.—</span><br /> +What read you?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Carlos!—(<i>Reads.</i>)</span><br /> +Some strange mistake rests here. As my good word<br /> +Earns your belief—till now, I ne'er beheld<br /> +This love-lorn billet.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Ah, woman, pleasant still,</span><br /> +But full of subtlety;—perverse, untoward—<br /> +Thy ways mark'd deep by unabash'd deceit:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>Well thou mayst laugh at thine imposture.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +The riddle solves:—this billet by mistake<br /> +Hath found its way to yon same helpless virgin.<br /> +Laura hath dropp'd it—some officious friend<br /> +Unto your eye the unoffending page<br /> +Hath straight convey'd.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Thou answerest plausibly;—</span><br /> +I would believe thy honied tongue.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +I did repulse him, sore amazed<br /> +At his approach.—He threaten'd with his hate,<br /> +Which I do love more than his unprized favour!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +I well remember thy reproof.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duchess.</span></span><br /> +Our rebel cousin hither comes with word<br /> +Of her departure from our city.—Hence,<br /> +To-morrow, by the saffron-breaking dawn,<br /> +To Venice she returns. I urge in vain<br /> +Some further hindrance.—Wilt thou again make suit<br /> +To lady's ear, and win her stay?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">To-morrow!</span><br /> +"Let then to-morrow come if e'er it may;<br /> +But when to-morrow comes, 'tis still to-day—<br /> +To-morrow go, and thou art never gone,<br /> +Till yon to-morrow and to-day are one!"</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">I must hence:</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>Urge me not further.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Nay, I urge thee not.</span><br /> +My will in Mantua e'er was held injunction.<br /> +I'll be thy tyrant, lady—thy stern keeper.<br /> +This day, within our palace, thou shalt be,<br /> +If willing and obedient, our guest:<br /> +If stubborn and self-will'd, our prisoner!<br /> +I'll compass thee with such delicious chains,<br /> +Thou shalt not wish e'en thine own thought were free!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Your guest this day, the last I spend in Mantua.<br /> +The night I give to Laura.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duchess.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">This proud night</span><br /> +Shall so out-mimic day, thou shalt not guess<br /> +When night hath drawn the twilight to his bosom.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sylvio</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><span class="smcap">sylvio</span> (<i>aside to the</i> <span class="smcap">duke</span>).</span><br /> +The guard hath yet no tidings;<br /> +The woman hides her warily.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Not yet!</span><br /> +I would, ere night, this mumming witch were found.<br /> +Without the walls perchance she lurks. Command<br /> +Their search unto the outskirts: large reward<br /> +Will follow their success.<span style="margin-left: 7em;"> [<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Sylvio</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duchess.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">At this inviting hour, we taste</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>The fragrance from our incense-breathing flowers:<br /> +My lord, attend you us?<br /> +The roses are fresh sprinkled,—the soft breeze<br /> +Comes heavily from their odour-blushing heads,<br /> +Faint and oppress'd with its delicious burden.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +My spouse hath set her love on some tall poppy,<br /> +Some velvet-cheek'd, young tulip; drinking nectar<br /> +From his soft, balmy lip. I must be jealous<br /> +Of these same gentle favours.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duchess.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">You shall attend</span><br /> +Our fragrant courtship—the unwitting pander<br /> +To my stolen pleasures. Ah, my lord! what mean you?<br /> +Comes that dark frown to me, or to my lovers?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Nothing, Beatrice,—a passing jest,—'tis gone,—<br /> +I needs must frown when I am jealous. Now,<br /> +Fair dames, I would attend you.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE III.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>A Wood.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Zorayda</span>, <i>sitting at the foot of an oak.</i></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +An outcast from an outcast race,—spurn'd, chid,<br /> +From the churl's threshold. Shunn'd, unbless'd by all:<br /> +Nor home nor heritance—I live, alone,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>Without associate, tie, or fellowship<br /> +E'en to my kin. I might from these consist<br /> +Of other nature; other substance might<br /> +Enfold my spirit,—other shape<br /> +Envelope me, than wraps the affrighted herd<br /> +Who stand aloof and gaze! Th' inanimate forms,<br /> +Nature's unchisel'd workmanship—unsullied<br /> +By man's rude contact—'tis with these I hold<br /> +Converse and high communion;<br /> +And from the spirit that lives in them, free<br /> +And uncommunicable intercourse<br /> +My soul receives. In all things there exists<br /> +Distinct peculiar essence, like the soul<br /> +Our being animates; at seasons oft,<br /> +In presence, though unseen, yet to the mind<br /> +Internal, manifest, imparting there<br /> +Miraculous influence. In secret, too—<br /> +The bodily eye, from grosser matter freed,—<br /> +In shape as palpable they come, as doth<br /> +Each outward image rise to corporeal sense.<br /> +I am not mad. The heated brain creates not<br /> +These uncall'd phantoms: yet men say I'm crazed.<br /> +They know not, dream not, of the mighty world<br /> +That lives around them. Other orbs might hold us!<br /> +—By mine art, with potent spell,<br /> +And wily stratagem, the Duke I've warn'd.<br /> +Hermione—proud victim! Love unhallow'd<br /> +Yet lingers in their breasts, and they must sever,<br /> +Though one heart break in that most cruel parting!<br /> +There's a foul taint of murder in the wind—<br /> +I do suspect her lover—yon Venetian,<br /> +Her suitor once—rejected. Such revenge<br /> +Will ofttimes rouse the spirit up to mischief,<br /> +Loathing, it would abhor e'en if beheld<br /> +But as a guilty dream. If this fond Duke<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>Seek not again her presence I have hope.<br /> +To-morrow she departs from Mantua—<br /> +No power can harm thee, save in that brief space<br /> +Appointed with thy birth. Here comes my spy:<br /> +The urchin loves me for the good he owes.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Giulio</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Welcome, boy!</span><br /> +Thine errand?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">giulio.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Some whisperings I've caught,</span><br /> +Yet know not to what purpose they should tend.<br /> +I heard "to-night," twice to each listener told,<br /> +And oft a cautious glance where I but stood,<br /> +Tuning my simple lute. As thou hast bid me,<br /> +With careful eye, note well their secret converse,<br /> +I hasten'd with the news: and now, good mother,<br /> +Say me farewell.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">A toward child;</span><br /> +Great largess thou mayest earn for thy discourse:<br /> +Hence! lest this absence tell what thine excuse<br /> +May not conceal.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Giulio</span>.</span><br /> +To-night!—I'll watch. This hour of danger past,<br /> +I'll pledge me to thy safety. Noble Mantua,<br /> +In that dread day, my parent's forfeit life<br /> +When thou didst spare, I vow'd to seek thy welfare;<br /> +And my good power, for thee and for thine house,<br /> +Hath not its use in vain. Yet, I do fear<br /> +The issue of this night: the vision told<br /> +Mortal conclusion nigh—"<i>They will not hear</i><br /> +"<i>Warning oft utter'd, but impetuous rush,</i><br /> +"<i>Unheeding, to their doom.</i>"<br /> +Perchance some hidden meaning lurks beneath<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>This fearful message; an ambiguous sense,<br /> +Its proper import framing, when the event<br /> +From which it springs, like day-betokening morn,<br /> +Is past. His death it may not show. I'll save thee,<br /> +Or my destruction——soft!—the tramp of men:<br /> +Scouts, peradventure, on my track. Go, follow<br /> +The wild bee to its nest!—or to yon cliff<br /> +Climb with the eagle!—then ye mark my course!<span style="margin-left: 3em;"> [<i>Exit.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Carlos</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Bertrand</span>, <i>meeting.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +My messenger brings welcome news: to-day<br /> +Hermione again visits the palace.<br /> +Till this dim light shall fade, her promised stay—<br /> +But the first watch of night, perchance, may find<br /> +This cuckoo harbour'd yet in others' nest!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +'Tis well:—our friends with the opportunity<br /> +Alone are arm'd; and as the time may note<br /> +Their several parts. From the west turret<br /> +The accomplice issue signal, if to-night<br /> +The Duke refreshes in the mountain-breeze,<br /> +As 'tis his wont, around the platform. When<br /> +Upon its staff the turret pennon sinks<br /> +(The moon to this good signal will suffice),<br /> +We climb the unguarded stair, and it conducts<br /> +To our dark enterprise.<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE IV.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>Part of the Platform, sloping to the Palace Walls.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Duke, Duchess, Hermione, Ridolfi</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +We love these moon-lit walks, Hermione,<br /> +Whilst in her wane: you like her visage best,<br /> +Perchance, increasing. More I love to mark<br /> +Her gradual decay—retreating coy,<br /> +And half aside, as if ashamed to meet<br /> +The full gaze of the sun.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">I love the waxing</span><br /> +Yet rather than the wane of yon pale light:<br /> +Like timid maid, when first her opening charms<br /> +Meet love's warm beam. Scarce on the wanton boy<br /> +She dares to gaze, till, bolder grown, her eye<br /> +Averted still, or half withdrawn, drinks in,<br /> +With silent ecstacy, love's treacherous glance.<br /> +Now his fond smile, full orb'd, the embolden'd sight<br /> +Enamour'd meets: her very being, essence,<br /> +And every faculty absorb—each thought<br /> +Rising impregn'd with love's fierce fire; anon<br /> +There comes a change—shy gleams succeed, her brow<br /> +Hath one slight shade, scarce seen, but on its light<br /> +The darkness grows—love's brightest dream is o'er,<br /> +And his pale taper quench'd in utter gloom!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">ridolfi.</span></span><br /> +Ay, till another change. Yon fickle goddess<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>Her fond, fool'd swain entices, till enamour'd<br /> +E'en to his heart's last core; she then averts<br /> +Her love-impassion'd glance, and, scorning, shuns him!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duchess.</span></span><br /> +If from deserted maid, Hermione,<br /> +Whose charms were withering in the fallow wane<br /> +Of an unprofited life, this speech forlorn<br /> +Had seem'd to ring the knell of her young hopes.<br /> +But when from rosy lips, and ardent youth,<br /> +It comes unlook'd for as a wintry chill<br /> +Beneath a summer sun.—This air blows keenly,<br /> +My locks fall with the dew—I think the night<br /> +Hath not its wonted soothness: thrice I shudder'd<br /> +As the cold breeze methought sigh'd on my bosom.<br /> +I must begone—Hermione, you go not.<br /> +'Tis the last moonlight you behold, mayhap,<br /> +In this brief stay; take a long parting, ere<br /> +Ye bid adieu—the Duke himself attends you;<br /> +With me, our brother his good presence grants,<br /> +Till your return.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">ridolfi.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">With such proud gallantry</span><br /> +I bow to your decree. +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ridolfi</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Beneath the western turret</span><br /> +I love to walk—to watch the huge dim battlements<br /> +On the smooth river sleeping, when the moon,<br /> +Low in the brightening east, their shadow throws<br /> +Upon its calm, cold bosom.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Awhile I loiter with you there, my lord.<span style="margin-left: 5em;"> [<i>Exeunt.</i></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + + +<h4><br />SCENE V.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>The Battlements.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Hermione</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +A pleasant tale, you say?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">A story</span><br /> +At which the sad might laugh, the merry weep!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Strange modes of pleasantry—the sad might laugh?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +That his own woes were lighter.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">And yet, withal,</span><br /> +The merry weep?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">So sad the tale—</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">In troth,</span><br /> +Most dolorously pleasant!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">I've been in love.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>A strange propensity—a punishment<br /> +Man suffers for his sins. You've been in love?<br /> +Most melancholy! How! I wot the Duchess<br /> +Believed you not?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Beatrice yet—mark me—</span><br /> +Most tenderly I love. Her long affection<br /> +Won my regard: but—late, another power—<br /> +It is not love, 'tis witchery, false glamour<br /> +Chaining the sense, unwilling to be held<br /> +In such deep thrall—I've seen a basilisk,<br /> +And it hath holden me within the circuit<br /> +Of its charmed eye. How counsel you? how break<br /> +From its bright glance?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">I know not where, my lord,</span><br /> +You're held, or how enchain'd. Knows she your love?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +I sought her, and the truth unto her ear<br /> +I utter'd. Was it well?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">'Twere answer'd best</span><br /> +In the concealed purpose unto which<br /> +Truth's outward semblance serv'd. What meaning else<br /> +Behind it crouch'd?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">That we might part for ever.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +For ever!—Yes—'twas well!<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>What answer gave she?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Answer?—Oh—'twas well!</span><br /> +Then we must part, Hermione?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><i>We</i> part!</span><br /> +Wherefore for ever?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">I would not again</span><br /> +Cringe in thy burning glance,—and yet—I might—<br /> +This foolish heart its vanish'd dream forgot—<br /> +Unmoved endure thy presence! Bitter the pang!<br /> +I could not say for ever! I should cling<br /> +As the doom'd wretch to life, loosing his hold<br /> +But with the heart's last throb!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">I cannot counsel thus!</span><br /> +Alas! more need some power above our own<br /> +To tear us hence—to sever. You will forget<br /> +This idle thought—'tis but a vagrant breath,<br /> +Stirring your past affections—they respond<br /> +Untouch'd, when memory wakes the soft still voice<br /> +Of other years. Their echoes o'er, again<br /> +Peace, haply frighted thence, your bosom visits.<br /> +I would not now for ever part!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Then for a time—when absence<br /> +The torn heart heals, we meet again. Hermione,<br /> +For thee, in this night's converse, have I risk'd<br /> +My happiness, my hope, and every comfort<br /> +Which most I prize—my peace, my honour—all<br /> +Committed to thy trust—true confidence<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>If not in mutual charge—nor interchange<br /> +Of strict communion held. If one alone<br /> +The precious load entrusts, it is o'erbalanced<br /> +Without due counterpoise, reciprocal faith,<br /> +And it endures not. Tell me—nay, but listen—<br /> +This heart unfetter'd, offer'd thee, unplighted,<br /> +Would'st thou have ta'en?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Indeed, I cannot now</span><br /> +Such wild words answer. Spare me but this trial—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Nay, answer me—what—silent?—why 'tis well.<br /> +And so we part—but I repent me now<br /> +Thou hast my trust. No answer?—then 'tis well!<br /> +We part for ever! On that treacherous face<br /> +I would not gaze again.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">My lord, you must—</span><br /> +If this suffice—I answer—<i>Yes!</i></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Angel</span><br /> +Of soul visiting light! the storm hath still'd<br /> +At thy omnipotent word! I would not——</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Zorayda</span> <i>hastily, before the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>; <i>she points to the stream.</i></span></p> + +<p>What notest thou, dun sorceress?—speak!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Yon shadow!</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Yet two full hours unspent, ere on the stream<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>Yon pennon flits: and now we part. But who<br /> +Sent thee with such authority—with power<br /> +To question, and to watch, with daring eye,<br /> +Mine every movement? I have sought thee, fiend!<br /> +If thine hell-vomited sire protect thee not,<br /> +Again thou shalt not 'scape. I charge thee, witch!<br /> +Confederate with foul treachery.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">There's treason in the air!</span><br /> +Meet not the wind, it blows incontinently—<br /> +The maid hath other lovers.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Hag! thy meaning?</span><br /> +We study not ambiguous phrase.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +I'll crush thy treason,<br /> +Ere it be ripe for hatching.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">[<i>As the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>raises the silver call to his lips,</i> +<span class="smcap">Zorayda</span> <i>seizes his arm.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +'Tis for thy rescue—stay! one moment stay<br /> +Thy rash resolve. If I depart, undone,<br /> +Destroy'd this night!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>makes the signal.</i></span><br /> +Rash prince! it shriek'd thy doom!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter Guard.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Seize that bold traitress!—stop her hated croak!<br /> +Lest each ensnared accomplice, if such be<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>Within her call, gain tidings of her seizure.<br /> +To-morrow, and in private, mark me, Hugo,<br /> +We hear her further.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">zorayda.</span></span><br /> +To-morrow!—nay, to-night, proud Duke.<br /> +To-morrow is not thine. Beware! +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">[<i>They lead her away.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Of thee!</span><br /> +Thou fearful wonder. 'Tis not idle terror<br /> +O'ermasters me, but yon foul-plotting witch<br /> +Quails me unwarily. Our country's welfare,<br /> +Perchance, brings o'erused caution; yet the wise<br /> +No proffer'd warning slights. Within the palace<br /> +We may defy an ambush'd foe.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">To this,</span><br /> +Ere mischief burst abroad, I would entreat.<br /> +Yon being hath intelligence not breathed<br /> +From mortal lips!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">I dare not say</span><br /> +The last farewell: the coming word, when summon'd,<br /> +So galls my tongue, it hath no utterance<br /> +When it might pass. The breath that from it issues<br /> +Parches my palate; like the hot simoom,<br /> +It scorches, though it sweep as stilly o'er<br /> +Some blasted, bladeless desert!—<br /> +I dream!—or I am fool'd!—unbind me, dæmon!<br /> +Unseal mine eyeballs!—they are possess'd—again!<br /> +Glazed with thy mockeries! I see not: hark!<br /> +'Tis but the mental image to the brain<br /> +Recoiling: yet as palpable it comes!<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>What seest thou?—yon shadow?—where?</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Yon shadow?</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +It cannot be: a brief told moment past,<br /> +I marked beyond the brink, on the dim wood,<br /> +The shadow waving. Now 'tis strange. There!—there!<br /> +How keen this air creeps curdling to my vitals!—<br /> +The shadow yet hangs dark and motionless<br /> +On shore and wave!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Whence comes this wondering terror?</span><br /> +The flag hath on its staff but newly dropp'd—<br /> +Look to the turret, why that spell-bound gaze<br /> +So wildly on the stream!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Fell hag! thy boding screech<br /> +Too surely sped. They come! Protect me, Heaven!</p> + +<p><i>Enter four Assassins, masked. Three of them attack the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>, +<i>ere he can make signals for the Guard; whilst their leader seizes +on</i> <span class="smcap">Hermione</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Help!—murderers! Unhand me, wretch. +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">[<i>He stops her mouth.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +Wretch! 'tis thy Carlos come to woo—not now<br /> +To kiss thy very footprints, and the earth<br /> +Whereon they fell! I'll bear thee hence, my mistress;<br /> +And thou shalt live my menial slave. Rage not—<br /> +I'll tame thy spirit, lady. Thou shalt crouch,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>My gentle captive, as thy Carlos once,<br /> +To lick the dust, and I will spurn thee. Nay,<br /> +Content thee, dame, our friends will do thee service.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>defends himself against his assailants. +One of the Assassins falls.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +There, villain! my good brand hath served thee.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">[<span class="smcap">Hermione</span>, <i>whilst struggling with</i> <span class="smcap">Carlos</span>, <i>frees +herself by a sudden effort, and seizes the sword +of the dying ruffian.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +I'll bury this, deep, to thy heart, monster,<br /> +If thou approach. Help, guards!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Thy tongue I fear</span><br /> +More than thy weapon.<span style="margin-left: 3em;"> [<i>Attempts to cover her mouth.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +Then to thy doom, hell-destined spirit!<span style="margin-left: 5em;"> [<i>Stabs him.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">carlos.</span></span><br /> +Oh—fly!—save ye, my friends—escape whilst yet—<br /> +The guards—this fiend hath summon'd——<span style="margin-left: 4em;"> [<i>Falls.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;"><span class="smcap">hermione</span> (<i>rushes towards the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>).</span><br /> +Cowards! ye cannot escape. They come!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand</span> (<i>tearing off his mask</i>).</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Then swifter come</span><br /> +Insatiate vengeance. To thy place, proud Mantua!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">[<i>Makes a desperate lunge at the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>, <i>who falls.</i></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +A mortal thrust! Hermione, now—now—<br /> +Farewell—'tis past!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Thou leavest not thy paramour.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">[<i>Stabs</i> <span class="smcap">Hermione</span>.</span><br /> +Hence! to the pale ghosts howl in company.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">hermione.</span></span><br /> +I'd bless thee——for this——<span style="margin-left: 9em;"> [<i>Dies.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Enter Guard, Soldiers; they seize the Conspirators.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Too late ye come—</span><br /> +Life ebbs fast from my veins—mine eyes are dim;<br /> +But there's a voice—or death unreins my fancy—<br /> +Comes o'er mine ear, I do remember, mingling<br /> +Ere now 'mid mortal strife.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">bertrand.</span></span><br /> +'Tis I: mine hate is quench'd but with the blood<br /> +That nourish'd thee! Now to your dungeons lead me:<br /> +Your rarest tortures—haste. This blest revenge<br /> +Will slake your hottest fires, heal the hurt flesh,<br /> +Make the unpitying rack a gentle pillow.<br /> +Softer than cygnet down, or thy death-couch,<br /> +Unsceptred Duke. Guards, do your office.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">duke.</span></span><br /> +Unhappy man! thy fierce, untamed spirit,<br /> +In its own fiery nature, hath to endure<br /> +What bodily tortures reach not. I forgive thee.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>But this good city, thy most unjust hate<br /> +This night bereaves of her protector, seeks<br /> +Her just atonement! Bear me hence—Beatrice,<br /> +To thy loved arms. Would that I ne'er had left thee—<br /> +A fearful meeting now—Hermione!<br /> +What—dead! My cup is drain'd e'en to the dregs,<br /> +The vessel shiver'd, dash'd erewhile to earth!—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Just Heaven!</span><br /> +I bow to thee! Thou hast not sent my spirit<br /> +Unshriven to thy bar—brief space on earth<br /> +My span of time, but unto thee I turn,<br /> +Abused mercy; grant with my last last hour<br /> +Repentance, and thy promised pardon!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">[<i>Exeunt Attendants with the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke</span>.</span><br /></p> + + + +<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> +<h2>LEGENDS.</h2> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>One of the following Legends, The Crystal Goblet, was written for +the Traditions of the County of York. It appeared by permission in +an Annual entitled, "The White Rose of York;" but having only had +a local circulation at the time, and having been carefully revised by +the Author during the last winter of his life, it finds a place in the +present volume.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> +<h2>MOTHER RED CAP;</h2> + +<h5>OR,</h5> + +<h3>THE ROSICRUCIANS.</h3> + +<h3>A LEGEND OF THE NORTH.</h3> + + +<h4><br />PART THE FIRST.</h4> + +<p>In the wild and mountainous region of East Lancashire, at +the foot of the long line of hills called Blackstonedge, and +not far from the town of Rochdale, stood one of those old +grim-looking mansions, the abode of our Saxon ancestors; +a quiet sheltered nest, where ages and generations had alike +passed by. The wave of time had produced no change; +the name and the inheritance were the same, and seemingly +destined to continue unaltered by the mutations, the common +lot of all that man labours to perpetuate. This state +of things existed at the date of our story; now, alas! the +race of its former possessors is extinct, their name only remains +a relic of things that were,—their former mansion +standing<a name="FNanchor_L_12" id="FNanchor_L_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_L_12" class="fnanchor">[L]</a>, as if in mockery, amidst the hum of wheels, +and in melancholy contrast with the toil and animation +of this manufacturing, money-getting district.</p> + +<p>Buckley Hall, to which we allude, is still an object of +interest to the antiquary and the lover of romance, telling +of days that are for ever departed, when the lords of these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +paternal acres were the occupants, not impoverishers, of the +soil from unrecorded ages,—constituting a tribe, a race of +sturdy yeomanry attached to their country and to the lands +on which they dwelt. But they are nigh extinct,—other +habits and other pursuits have prevailed. Profuse hospitality +and rude benevolence have given place to habits of +business as they are called, and to a more calculating and +enterprising disposition. The most ancient families have +become absorbed or overwhelmed by the mighty progress of +this new element, this outpouring of wealth as from some +unseen source; and in many instances their names only are +recognised in these old and rickety mansions, now the habitation +of the mechanic and the plebeian.</p> + +<p>Many of these dwellings remain,—a melancholy contrast +to the trim erections, the symbols of a new race, along +with new habits and forms of existence, sufficiently testifying +to the folly and the vain expectations of those who +toil and labour hard for a long lease with posterity.</p> + +<p>This mansion, like the rest of our ancestral dwellings of +the better sort, was built of wood, on a stone basement. +The outside structure curiously vandyked in a zig-zag +fashion with wooden partitions, the interstices were filled +with wicker-work, plastered with well-tempered clay, to +which chopped straw imparted additional tenacity. When +newly embellished, looking like the pattern, black and white, +of some discreet magpie perched on the wooden pinnacles +terminating each gable, or hopping saucily about the porch,—that +never-failing adjunct to these homely dwellings. +Here, on a well-scoured bench, the master of the house +would sit in converse with his family or his guests, enjoying +the fresh and cheering breeze, without being fully exposed +to its effects. The porch was universally adopted as a protection +to the large flagged hall called the "house-part," +which otherwise might have been seriously incommoded by +the inclement atmosphere of these bleak districts. On one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +side of the hall, containing the great fire-place, was the +"guest parlour." Here the best bed was usually fixed; +and here, too, all great "occasions" took place. Births, +christenings, burials, all emanated from, or were accomplished +in, this family chamber. Every member was there +transmitted from the cradle to the grave. The low wide +oaken stairs, to the first bending of which an active individual +might have leaped without any such superfluous +media. The naked gallery, with its little quaint doors on +each side, hatched in the usual fashion, this opening into +the store-room, that into the servants' lodging, another into +the closet where the choicest confections were kept. Opposite +were the bedchambers, and at the extremity of the +gallery a ladder generally pointed the way to a loft, where, +amongst heaps of winter stores, dried roots, and other vegetables, +probably reposed one or two of the male servants +on a straw mattrass, well fortified from cold by an enormous +quilt.</p> + +<p>Our description will apply with little variation to all.—We +love these deserted mansion-houses, that speak of the +olden time, its good cheer and its rude but pleasant intercourse; +times and seasons that are for ever gone,—though +we crave pardon for indulging in what may perhaps find +little favour in the eyes of this generation, whose hopes and +desires are to the future, who say the past is but the childhood +of our existence,—it is gone, and shall not return. +But there are yet some who love to linger on the remnants, +the ruins of a former state, who look at these time-honoured +relics but as links that bring them into closer communion +with bygone ages, and would fain live in the twilight of +other years rather than the meridian splendour of the present. +But we must not be seduced any further by these +reflections; our present business concerns the legend whose +strange title stands at the head of this article.</p> + +<p>In one of the upper chambers at Buckley Hall before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +named, and not long ago, was an iron ring fixed to a +strong staple in the wall; and to this ring a fearful story +is still attached. The legend, as it is often told, is one of +those wild improbable fictions based on facts, distorted and +embellished to suit the taste of the listener or the fancy of +the narrator. It will be our task to make out from these +imaginative materials a narrative divested, as much as +possible, of the marvellous, but, at the same time, retaining +so much as will interest and excite the reader and lover of +legendary lore.</p> + +<p>It was in one of those genial, mellow, autumnal evenings,—so +dear to all who can feel their influence, and so rare +a luxury to the inhabitants of this weeping climate,—when +all living things wear the hue and warmth of the glowing +atmosphere in which they are enveloped, that two lovers +were sauntering by the rivulet, a "wimpling burn" that, +rising among the bare and barren moorlands of this uncultivated +region, runs past Buckley Hall into the valley of +the Roch.</p> + +<p>It was near the close of the sixteenth century, in the +days of good Queen Bess, yet their apparel was somewhat +homely even for this era of stuffed doublets and trunk-hose. +Such unseemly fashions had hardly travelled into these +secluded districts; and the plain, stout, woollen jacket of +their forefathers, and the ruffs, tippets, stays, and stomachers +of their grandmothers, formed the ordinary wear of +the belles and beaux of the province. Fardingales, or +hooped petticoats, we are happy to say, for the sake of our +heroine, were unknown.</p> + +<p>"Be of good cheer," said the lover; "there be troubles +enow, believe me, without building them up out of our own +silly fears—like boys with their snow hobgoblins, terrible +enough in the twilight of fancy, but a gleam of sunshine +will melt and dissipate them. Thou art sad to-night +without reason. Imaginary fears are the worst to cope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +withal; having nor shape nor substance, we cannot combat +with them. 'Tis hard, indeed, fighting with shadows."</p> + +<p>"I cannot smile to-night, Gervase; there's a mountain +here—a foreboding of some deadly sort. I might as soon +lift 'Robin Hood's Bed,' yonder, as remove it."</p> + +<p>"No more of this, my dearest Grace; at least, not now. +Let us enjoy this bright and sunny landscape. How +sharply cut are those crags, yonder, on the sky. Blackstonedge +looks almost within a stride, or at least a good stone's +throw. Thou knowest the old legend of Robin Hood; +how that he made yonder rocks his dormitory, and by +way of amusement pitched or coited huge stones at a mark +on the hill just above us, being some four or five miles +from his station. It is still visible along with several +stones lying near, and which are evidently from the same +rock as that on which it is said he slept."</p> + +<p>"I've heard such silly tales often. Nurse had many of +these old stories wherewith to beguile us o' winter nights. +She used to tell, too, about Eleanor Byron, who loved a +fay or elf, and went to meet him at the fairies' chapel +away yonder where the Spodden gushes through its rocky +cleft,—'tis a fearful story—and how she was delivered +from the spell. I sometimes think on't till my very flesh +creeps, and I could almost fancy that such an invisible +thing is about me."</p> + +<p>With such converse did they beguile their evening walk, +ever and anon making the subject bend to the burden of +their own sweet ditty of mutual <i>unchanging</i> love!</p> + +<p>Grace Ashton was the only daughter of a wealthy +yeoman, one of the gentry of that district, residing at Clegg +Hall, a mile or two distant. Its dark, low gables and +quiet smoke might easily be distinguished from where they +stood. It was said that the Cleggs, its original owners, +had been beggared and dispossessed by vexatious and +fraudulent lawsuits; and the Ashtons had achieved their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +purpose by dishonesty and chicane. However this might +be, busy rumour gave currency and credit to the tale, +though, probably, it had none other foundation than the idle +and malevolent gossip of the envious and the unthinking.</p> + +<p>They had toiled up a narrow pathway on the right of +a woody ravine, where the stream had evidently formed +itself a passage through the loose strata in its course. The +brook was heard, though hidden by the tangled underwood, +and they stopped to listen. Soothing but melancholy was +the sound. Even the birds seemed to chirp there in a sad +and pensive twitter, not unnoticed by the lovers, though +each kept the gloomy and fanciful apprehensions untold.</p> + +<p>Soon they gained the summit of a round heathery knoll, +whence an extensive prospect rewarded their ascent. The +squat, square tower of Rochdale Church might be seen +above the dark trees nestling under its grey walls. The +town was almost hidden by a glowing canopy of smoke +gleaming in the bright sunset,—towards the north the +bare bleak hills, undulating in sterile loneliness, and associating +only with images of barrenness and desolation. +Easterly, a long, level burst of light swept across meadow, +wood, and pasture; green slopes dotted with bright homesteads, +to the very base apparently of, though at some +distance from, Blackstonedge, now of the deepest, the most +intense blue. Such a daring contrast of colour gave a +force and depth to the landscape, which, had it been +portrayed, would to critical eyes, perhaps, have outraged +the modesty of Nature.</p> + +<p>The sky was already growing cold and grey above the +ridge opposed to the burning brightness of the western +horizon, and Grace Ashton pointed out the beautiful but +fleeting hues of the landscape around them. Her companion, +however, was engrossed by another object. Before +them was an eminence marking the horizon to the north-west, +though not more than a good bow-shot from where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +they stood. Between this and their present standing was +a little grassy hollow, through which the brook we have +described trickled rather than ran, amidst moss and rushes, +rendering the ground swampy and unsafe. On this hill +stood "Robin Hood's coit-stones;" and on the largest, +called the "marking-stone," a wild-looking and haggard +figure was couched. Her garments, worn and tattered, +were of a dingy red; and her cap, or <i>coiffure</i> as it was +then called, was of the same colour. Her head was bent +forward beyond the knee, as though she were listening +towards the ground, or was expecting the approach of the +individuals who now came suddenly, and to themselves +unexpectedly, in view. Her figure, in the glow of that +rich autumnal sky, looked of the deepest crimson, and of +a bloody and portentous aspect.</p> + +<p>"What strange apparition is yonder," said Gervase +Buckley, "on the hill top there before us? Beshrew me, +Grace, but it hath an evil and a rancorous look."</p> + +<p>But Grace, along with a short scream of surprise, betrayed, +too, her recognition of the object, and clung with +such evident terror to her companion that he turned from +the object of his inquiries to gaze on his mistress.</p> + +<p>"What!" said he, "hath yonder unknown such power? +Methinks it hath moved thee strangely. Speak, Grace; can +that hideous appearance in any way be linked with our +destiny?"</p> + +<p>"I am ignorant as thou. But its coming, as I have +heard, always forbodes disaster to our house. Hast not +heard of a Red Woman that sometimes haunts this neighbourhood? +I never saw her until now, but I've heard +strange and fearful stories of her appearing some years ago, +and blighting the corn, poisoning the cattle, with many +other diabolical witcheries. She is best known by the +name of 'Mother Red Cap.'"</p> + +<p>"I've heard of this same witch in my boyhood. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +what should we fear? She is flesh and blood like ourselves; +and, in spite of the prevailing belief, I could never +suppose power would be granted to some, generally the +most wicked and the most worthless, which from the rest of +mankind is capriciously withholden."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Gervase; thou knowest not how far the arch-enemy +of mankind may be permitted to afflict bodily our +guilty race. I could tell thee such tales of yonder creature +as would stagger even the most stubborn of unbelievers."</p> + +<p>"I will speak to her, nevertheless. Tarry here, I prithee, +Grace. It were best I should go alone."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do not—do not! None have sight of her, as I've +heard, but mischief follows. What disaster then may we +not expect from her evil tongue. I shudder at the anticipation. +Stay here. I will not be left; and I cannot cross +this dangerous swamp."</p> + +<p>Buckley was, however, bent on the adventure. His natural +curiosity, inflamed by forbidden longing after the occult +and the mysterious to which he was too prone, even though +sceptical as to their existence, rendered him proof against +his mistress' entreaties.</p> + +<p>Probably from situation, or rather, it might be, the distance +was judged greater than in reality it proved, but the +form before them looked preternaturally enlarged, and, as +she raised her head, her arms were flung out high above +it like withered and wasted branches on each side. +Trembling in every limb, Grace clung to her lover, and it +was after long persuasion that she suffered him to lift her +over the morass, and was dragged unwillingly up the hill. +As though she were the victim of some terrible fascination, +her eyes were constantly riveted on the object. A raven +wheeled round them, every moment narrowing the circle of +its flight, and the malicious bird looked eager for mischief.</p> + +<p>As they approached nearer to the summit this ill-omened +thing, after having brushed so close that they felt the very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +breath from its wings, alighted beside the Red Woman, +who hardly seemed to notice, though well aware of their +proximity.</p> + +<p>They paused when several paces distant, and she rose up +suddenly, extending both arms, apparently to warn them +from a nearer approach. Her skinny lips rapidly moving +to and fro, and her dark, withered, bony, and cadaverous +features, gave her more the appearance of a living mummy, +or a resurrection from the charnel-house, than aught instinct +with the common attributes of humanity.</p> + +<p>Buckley was for a moment daunted. The form was so +unlike anything he had ever seen. He was almost persuaded +of the possibility that it might be some animated +corpse doomed to wander forth either for punishment or +expiation. Her lips still moved. A wild glassy eye was +fixed upon them, and as she yet stood with extended arms, +Gervase, almost wrought to desperation, cried out,</p> + +<p>"Who art thou? Thy business here?"</p> + +<p>A hollow sound, hardly like the tones of a human voice, +answered in a slow and solemn adjuration:</p> + +<p>"Beware, rash fools! None approach the Red Woman +but to their undoing."</p> + +<p>"I know no hindrance to my free course in this domain. +By whose authority am I forbidden?" said he, taking +courage.</p> + +<p>"Away—mine errand is not to thee unless provoked."</p> + +<p>"Unto whom is thy message?"</p> + +<p>"To thy leman—thy ladye-love, whom thou wilt cherish +to thine hurt. Leave her, ay, though both hearts break in +the separation."</p> + +<p>"I will not."</p> + +<p>"Then be partaker of the wrath that is just ready to +burst upon her doomed house."</p> + +<p>"I told thee," said Grace, "she is the herald of misfortune! +What woe does she denounce? What cruel judgment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +hast thou invoked upon our race?" cried she to this +grim messenger of evil.</p> + +<p>"Evil will—Evil must! I will cling to ye till your last +sustenance be dried up, and your inheritance be taken from +ye."</p> + +<p>"Her fate be mine," said Buckley, indignantly. "Her +good or evil fortune I will share."</p> + +<p>"Be it so. Thou hast made thy choice, and henceforth +thou canst not complain."</p> + +<p>She stretched out her two hands, one towards Clegg Hall, +the abode of the maiden, and the other towards Buckley, +her lover's paternal roof, from which a blue curl of smoke +was just visible over the rising grounds beneath them.</p> + +<p>"A doom and a curse to each," she muttered. "Your +names shall depart, and your lands to the alien and the +stranger. Your honours shall be trodden in the dust, and +your hearths laid waste, and your habitations forsaken."</p> + +<p>In this fearful strain she continued until Buckley cried +out—</p> + +<p>"Cease thy mumbling, witch. I'll have thee dealt with +in such wise thy tongue shall find another use."</p> + +<p>Turning upon him a look of scorn, she seemed to grow +fiercer in her maledictions.</p> + +<p>"Proud minion," she cried, "thou shalt die childless and +a beggar!"</p> + +<p>The cunning raven flapped his great heavy wings and +seemed to croak an assent. He then hopped on his mistress' +shoulder, and apparently whispered in her ear.</p> + +<p>"Sayest thou so?" said the witch. "Then give it to +me, Ralph."</p> + +<p>The bird held out his beak, and out popped a plain gold +ring.</p> + +<p>"Give this to thy mother, Dame Buckley. Say 'tis long +since they parted company; and ask if she knows or remembers +aught of the Red Woman. Away!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p>She threw the ring towards them. Both stooped to pick +it up. They examined it curiously for a short space.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a wedding-ring," said Buckley, "but not to wed +bride of mine. Where was this——"</p> + +<p>He stopped short in his inquiry, for lifting up his eyes +he found the donor was gone!</p> + +<p>Neither of them saw the least trace of her departure. +The stone whereon she sat was again vacant. All was +silent, undisturbed, save the night breeze that came sighing +over the hill, moaning and whistling through the withered +bent and rushes at their feet.</p> + +<p>The shadows of evening were now creeping softly around +them, and the valley below was already wrapped in mist. +The air felt very chill. They shuddered, but it was in +silence. This fearful vision, for such it now appeared to +have been, filled them with unspeakable dread.</p> + +<p>Gervase yet held the ring in his hand. He would have +thrown it from him, but Grace Ashton forbade.</p> + +<p>"Do her bidding in this matter," said she. "Give it thy +mother, and ask counsel of the sage and the discreet. There +is some fearful mystery,—some evil impending, or my apprehensions +are strangely misled."</p> + +<p>They returned, but he was more disturbed than he cared +to acknowledge. He felt as though some spell had been +cast upon him, and cowed his hitherto undaunted spirit.</p> + +<p>They again wound down beside the rivulet into the +meadows below, where the mist alone pointed out the +course of the stream. The bat and the beetle crossed their +path. Evil things only were abroad. All they saw and +felt seemed to be ominous of the future. As they passed +through a little wicket to the hall-porch, Nicholas Buckley +the father met them.</p> + +<p>"Why how now, loiterers? The cushat and the curlew +have left the hill, and yet ye are abroad. 'Tis time the +maiden were at home, and looking after the household."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We've been hindered, good Sir. We will just get speech +of our dame, and then away home with the gentle Grace. +Half an hour's good speeding will see her safe."</p> + +<p>"Ay—belike," said the old man. "Lovers and loiterers +make mickle haste to part. Our dame is with the maids +and the milk-pans i' the dairy."</p> + +<p>The elder Buckley was a hale hearty yeoman, of a ruddy +and cheerful countenance. A few wrinkles were puckered +below the eyes; the rest of his face was sleek and comfortably +disposed. A beard, once thick and glossy, was grown +grey and thin, curling up, short and stunted, round his portly +chin. Two bright twinkling eyes gave note of a stirring +and restless temper—too sanguine, may be, for success in the +great and busy world, and not fitted either by education or +disposition for its suspicions or its frauds. Yet he had the +reputation of a clever merchant. Rochdale, even at that +early period, was a well-known mart for the buyers and +sellers of woollen stuffs and friezes. Many of the most +wealthy merchants, too, indulged in foreign speculations and +adventures, and amongst these the name of Nicholas Buckley +was not the least conspicuous.</p> + +<p>They passed on to the dairy, where Dame Eleanor scolded +the maids and skimmed the cream at the same moment, by +way of economy in time.</p> + +<p>"What look ye for here?" was her first inquiry, for truly +her temper was of a hasty and searching nature; somewhat +prone, as well, to cavilling and dispute; requiring much of +her husband's placidity to furnish oil for the turbulent waters +of her disposition.</p> + +<p>"Thou wert better at thy father's desk, than idling after +thine unthrifty pleasures: to-morrow, may be, sauntering +among the hills with hound and horn, beating up with all +the rabble in the parish."</p> + +<p>"Nay, mother, chide not: I was never made for merchandize<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +and barter—the price of fleeces in Tod-lane, and the +broad ells at Manchester market."</p> + +<p>"And why not?" said the dame, sharply. "Haven't I been +the prop and stay of the house? Haven't I made bargains +and ventures when thou hast been idling in hall and bower +with love-ditties and ladies' purfles?"</p> + +<p>She was now moved to sudden choler, and Gervase did +not dare to thwart her further,—letting the passion spend +itself by its own efforts, as he knew it were vain to check +its torrent.</p> + +<p>Now Dame Eleanor Buckley was of a sharp and florid +countenance,—short-necked and broad-shouldered, her nose +and chin almost hiding a pair of thin severe lips, the two +prominences being close neighbours, especially in anger. In +truth she guided, or rather managed, the whole circle of +affairs; aiding and counselling the speculations of her husband, +who had happily been content with the produce and +profit of his paternal acres, had not his help-mate, who inherited +this mercantile spirit from her family, urged her +partner to such unwonted lust and craving for gain.</p> + +<p>A huge bundle of keys hung at her girdle, which, when +more than usually excited, did make a most discordant jingle +to the tune that was a-going. Indeed, the height and violence +of her passion might be pretty well guessed at by this +index to its strength.</p> + +<p>When the storm had in some degree subsided, Gervase +held up the ring.</p> + +<p>"What's that, silly one? A wedding-ring!"</p> + +<p>She grew almost pale with wrath. "How darest thou?—thee!—a +ring!—to wed ere thou hast a home for thy pretty +one. Ye may go beg, for here ye shall not tarry. Go to +the next buckle-beggar! A pretty wedding truly! When thou +hast learned how to keep her honestly, 'twill be time enough +to wed. But thou hast not earned a doit to put beside her +dower, and all our ready monies, and more, be in trade;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +though, for the matter o'that, the pulling would be no great +business either. But I tell thee again, thy father shall not +portion an idler like thyself and pinch his trade. Marry, +'tis enough to do, what with grievous sums lost in shipwrecks, +and the time we have now to wait our returns from +o'er sea."</p> + +<p>She went on at this rate for a considerable space, pausing +at last, more for lack of breath than subject-matter of discourse.</p> + +<p>"Mother," said he, when fairly run down; "'tis not a +purchase, 'tis a gift."</p> + +<p>"By some one sillier than thyself, I warrant."</p> + +<p>"I know not for that—I had it from a stranger."</p> + +<p>"Stranger still," she replied sharply, chuckling at her own +conceit.</p> + +<p>"Look at it, mother,—Know you such an one?"</p> + +<p>The dame eyed it with no favour, but she turned it over +with a curious look, at the same time lifting her eyes now +and then towards the ceiling, as though some train of recollection +was awakening in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Where gat ye this?" said Dame Eleanor, in a subdued +but still querulous tone.</p> + +<p>"On the hill-top yonder."</p> + +<p>"Treasure-trove belongs to Sir John Byron.<a name="FNanchor_M_13" id="FNanchor_M_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_M_13" class="fnanchor">[M]</a> The Lord +of the Manor claims all from the finders."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> +<p>"It was a gift."</p> + +<p>"Humph. Hast met gold-finders on the hills, or demons +or genii, that guard hidden treasure?"</p> + +<p>"We've seen the Red Woman!"</p> + +<p>Had a sudden thunder-clap burst over them, she could not +have been more startled. She stood speechless, and seemingly +incapable of reply. Holding the ring in one hand, her +eyes were intently fixed upon it.</p> + +<p>"What is it that troubles you?" said Gervase. "Yon +strange woman bade me give you the ring, and ask if so be +that you remembered her."</p> + +<p>The dame looked up, her quick and saucy petulance exchanged +for a subdued and melancholy air.</p> + +<p>"Remember thee! thou foul witch,—ay, long, long +years have passed: I thought thy persecutions at an end; +thy prediction was nigh forgotten. It was my wedding-ring, +Gervase!"</p> + +<p>"More marvellous still."</p> + +<p>"Peace, and I'll tell thee. Grace Ashton, come forward. +I know thine ears are itching for the news. Well, well, it +was when thou wast but a boy, Gervase, and I remember an +evening just like this. I was standing by the draw-well +yonder, looking, I now bethink me, at the dove-cote where +I suspected thieves; and in a humour somewhat of the +sharpest, I trow. By-and-bye comes what I thought an impudent +beggar-woman for an alms. Her dress was red and +tattered, with a high red cap to match. I chided her, it +might be somewhat harshly, and I shall not soon forget the +malicious look she put on. 'I ask not, I need not thy +benison,' she said; 'I would have befriended thee, but I now +curse thee altogether:' and stretching out her shrivelled +arm, dry and bare, she shook it, threatening me with vengeance. +Suddenly, or ere I was aware, she seized my left +hand, drew off my wedding-ring; breathing upon it and +mumbling a spell, she held it as though for me to take back,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +but with such a fiendish look of delight that I hesitated. All +on the sudden I remembered to have heard my grandmother +say, that should a witch or warlock get your wedding-ring, +and have time to mutter over it a certain charm, <i>so long as +that ring is above ground</i>, so long misery and misfortune do +afflict the owner. Lucky it was I knew of this, for instead +of replacing it I threw it into the well, being the nearest +hiding-place. And happy for me and thee it was so near; +for, would you believe, though hardly a minute's space in my +hand, the black heifer died, the red cow cast her calf, and a +large venture of merchandize was wrecked in a fearful gale +off the gulph. I had no sooner thrown it into the well than +the witch looked more diabolical than ever. 'It will come +again, dame,' said she, 'and then look to it;' and with this +threat she departed. But what am I doing? If it be the +ring, which I doubt not, I've had it o'er long in my keeping. +Even now disaster may be a-brewing; and is there +not a richly freighted ship on its passage with silks and +spices? I'll put it out of her reach this time anyhow. No! +I'll hide it where never a witch in Christendom shall poke +it out."</p> + +<p>Dame Eleanor went to the little burn below. Stooping, she +scooped a hole in the gravel under water; there she laid the +ring, and covered it over with stones.</p> + +<p>"Thou'rt always after some of thy megrims, dame," said +the elder Buckley, who had been watching her from the porch. +"Some spell or counter-charm, I'se warrant."</p> + +<p>With a look of great contempt for the incredulity of her +spouse, she replied,</p> + +<p>"Ay, goodman, sit there and scoff your fill. If't hadn't +been for my care and endeavours you had been penniless ere +now. But so it is, I may slave night and day, I reckon. +The whole roof-tree, as a body may say, is on my shoulders, +and what thanks? More hisses than thanks, more knocks +than fair words."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<p>Never so well pleased as when opportunity was afforded +for grumbling, the dame addressed herself again to her evening +avocations.</p> + +<p>Pondering deeply what should be the issue of these things, +Gervase set out with Grace Ashton to her house at Clegg +Hall, a good mile distant. Evening had closed in—a chill +wind blew from the hills. The west had lost its splendour, +but a pure transparent brightness filled its place, across +which the dark wavy outline of the high moorlands rested in +deep unvarying shadow. In these bright depths a still +brighter star hung, pure and of a diamond-like lustre, the +precursor, the herald of a blazing host just rising into +view.</p> + +<p>As they walked on, it may well be supposed that the +strange occurrences of the last few hours were the engrossing +theme of their discourse.</p> + +<p>"My mother is a little too superstitious, I am aware," said +Gervase. "But what I have witnessed to-night has rendered +me something more credulous on this head than aforetime."</p> + +<p>"I don't half like this neighbourhood," said his companion, +looking round. "It hath an ill name, and I could almost +fancy the Red Woman again, just yonder in our path."</p> + +<p>She looked wistfully; it was only the mist creeping lazily +on with the stream.</p> + +<p>They were now ascending the hill towards Beil or Belfield, +where the Knights Templars had formerly an establishment. +Not a vestige now remains, though at that period a ruinous +tower covered with ivy, a gateway, and an arch, existed as +relics of their former grandeur.</p> + +<p>"Here lived the Lady Eleanor Byron," said Grace, pointing +to the old hall close by, and as though an unpleasant +recollection had crossed her. She shuddered as they passed +by the grim archway beneath the tower. Whether it was +fancy or reality, she knew not, but as she looked curiously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +through its ivied tracery, she thought the Red Woman was +peering out maliciously upon them. She shrank aside, and +pointed to the spot; but there was nothing visible save the +dark and crumbling ruins, from which their steps were +echoed with a dull and sullen sound.</p> + +<p>The night wind sighed round the grey battlements, and +from its hidden recesses came moans and whispers, at least +so it seemed to their heated imaginations.</p> + +<p>"Let us hasten hence," said Grace; "I like not this lonely +spot. There was always a fear and a mystery about it. The +tale of the invisible sylphid and Eleanor Byron's elfish lover, +haunts me whenever I pass by, and I feel as though something +was near, observing and influencing every movement +and every thought."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, adone I pray. Let not fear o'ermaster reason, +else we shall see bogles in every bush."</p> + +<p>Above the gateway, in the little square tower now pulled +down, was a loop-hole, nearly concealed by climbing shrubs, +which rendered it easy for a person within to look out without +being observed. As they passed, a low humming din +was heard. Then a rude ditty trolled from some not unskilful +performer. The lovers stayed to listen, when a dark +figure issued out of the gateway singing:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The bat haunts the tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the red-breast the bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the merry little sparrow by the chimney hops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good e'en, hoots master owl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-whoo, to-whoo, his troll,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sing heigho, swing the can with——"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"What, thee, Tim! is that thy stupid face?" said Gervase, +breaking in upon his ditty, and right glad to be delivered +from supernatural fears, though the object of them proved +only this strolling minstrel. "Thou might as well kill us +outright as frighten us to death."</p> + +<p>He that stood before them was one of those wandering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +musicians that haunt fairs and merry-makings, wakes, and +such like pastimes; playing the fiddle and jewtrump too at +weddings and alehouses; in short, any sort of idleness never +came amiss to these representatives of the old Troubadours. +A tight oval cap covered his shaggy poll; he was clad in a +coarse doublet or jerkin slashed in the fashion of the time, +while his nether integuments were fastened in the primitive +mode by a wooden skewer. He could conjure too, and play +antics to set the folks agape; but as to his honesty, it was +of that dubious sort that few cared to have it in trust. He +was apt at these alehouse ditties,—many of them his own +invention. He knew all the choicest ballads too, so that his +vocation was much akin to the <i>jogleurs</i> or <i>jongleurs</i> of more +ancient times, when Richard of the Lion's Heart and other +renowned monarchs disdained not "<i>the gentle craft of poesie</i>."</p> + +<p>Wherever was a feast, let it be a wedding or a funeral, +Tim, like the harpies of old, scented the meat, and some of +his many vocations were generally in request.</p> + +<p>This important functionary now stood whistling and singing +by turns with the most admired unconcern.</p> + +<p>"What's thy business here?" cried Gervase, approaching +him.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The maid was fair and the maid was coy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the lover left, and the maid said 'Why?'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing Oh, the green willow!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Answerest thou me with thy trumpery ditties? I'll +have thee put i' the stocks, sirrah."</p> + +<p>"Oh ha' mercy, master! there's naught amiss 'at I know. +I'm but takin' roost here wi' the owls an' jackdaws a bit, +may be for want o' better lyin'."</p> + +<p>"It were hard to have a better knack at lying, than thou +hast already. Hast gotten the weather into thy lodgings? +When didst flit to thy new quarters?"</p> + +<p>"Th' hay-mow at Clegg is ower savoured wi' the new +crop, an' I want fresh air for my studies."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now art thou lying——"</p> + +<p>"Like a lover to his sweetheart," said Tim, interrupting +him, and finishing the sentence.</p> + +<p>"Peace, knave! There's some mischief i' the wind. Thou'rt +after no good, I trow."</p> + +<p>"What te dickons do I ail here? Is't aught 'at a man +can lift off but stone wa's an' ivy-boughs? Marry, my little +poke maun ha' summut else to thrive on nor these."</p> + +<p>"There's been great outcry about poultry an' other farmyard +appendances amissing of late, besides eggs and such +like dainties enow to furnish pancakes and fritters for the +whole parish. Hast gotten company in thy den above there?"</p> + +<p>"Jacks an' ouzles if ye like, Master Gervase. Clim' up, +clim' up, lad, an' there'll be a prial on us. Ha, ha! What! +our little sweetheart there would liefer t' be gangin'. Weel, +weel, 'tis natural, as a body may say:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"One is good, and two is good,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But three's no company."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Answer me quick, thou rogue. Is there any other but +thyself yonder above?"</p> + +<p>"When I'm there I'm not here, an' when I'm here——"</p> + +<p>"Sirrah, I'll flog the wind out o' thy worthless carcase. +Hast any pilfering companions about thee? I do smell a +savoury refection,—victuals are cooking, or my nose belies +its office."</p> + +<p>"Fair speech, friend, wins a quiet answer; a soft word +and a smooth tongue all the world over. What for mayn't +I sup as well as my betters?"</p> + +<p>"As well? better belike. There's no such savour in our +hall at eventide, nor in the best kitchen in the parish."</p> + +<p>"It's not my fau't, is't?"</p> + +<p>"By'r lady, there's somebody in the chamber there. I saw +the leaves fluttering from the loophole. Villain, who bears +thee company?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Daft, daft. What fool would turn in to roost wi' me? +Clean gone crazy, sure as I'm livin'."</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay, there's some plot here,—some mischief hatching. +I'll see, or——"</p> + +<p>He was just going to make the attempt; but Tim withstood +him, and in a peremptory manner barred the way.</p> + +<p>"How! am I barred by thee, and to my face?"</p> + +<p>"It's no business o' thine, Master Gervase. What's +hatching there, concerns not thee. Keep back, I say, or——"</p> + +<p>"Ha! Thou jingle-pated rascal, stand off, or I'll wring +thy neck round as I would a jackdaw."</p> + +<p>"Do not, do not, Gervase!" said Grace Ashton, fearful of +some unlucky strife. "Let us begone. We are too late +already, and 'tis no business of ours."</p> + +<p>"What! and be o'erfoughten by this scurvy lack-wit. +Once more, who is there above?"</p> + +<p>"An' what if I shouldn't tell thee?"</p> + +<p>"I'll baste thy carcase to a mummy; I'll make thee tender +for the hounds."</p> + +<p>"Another word to that, master, an' it's a bargain."</p> + +<p>"Let me pass."</p> + +<p>"Not without my company."</p> + +<p>"He whistled, and in a moment Gervase felt himself +pinioned from behind. Looking round, he saw two stout +fellows with their faces covered; and any other possibility +of recognition was impracticable in the heavy twilight.</p> + +<p>"Who's i' t' stocks now?" cried the malicious rogue, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"Unhand me, or ye'll rue that ever ye wrought this outrage."</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay, that were a pretty stave, when we've gotten +the bird, to open the trap," said Tim.</p> + +<p>Gervase immediately saw that another party had seized +Grace Ashton. He raved and stamped until his maledictions +were put an end to by an effectual gag, and he did not doubt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +but she had suffered the same treatment, for a short sharp +scream only was heard. Being immediately blindfolded, he +could only surmise that her usage was of a similar nature.</p> + +<p>He was so stupified with surprise, that for a short period +he was hardly sensible to their further proceedings. When +able to reflect, he found himself pinioned, and in a sitting +posture. A damp chill was on his forehead. He had been +dragged downwards, and, from the motion, steps were the +medium of descent. A door or two had been raised or +opened, a narrow passage previously traversed, and a short +time only elapsed from the cool freshness of the evening air +to the damp and stifling atmosphere that he now breathed. +What could be cause of his seizure, he was quite incompetent +to guess. He could not recollect that he had either +pique or grudge on his hands; and what should be the result, +he only bewildered and wearied himself by striving to +anticipate.</p> + +<p>It was surely a dream. He heard a voice of ravishing +sweetness; such pure and silvery tones, that aught earthly +could have produced it was out of the question; it was like +the swell of some Eolian lyre,—words too, modifying and +enhancing that liquid harmony. It was a hymn, but in a +foreign tongue. He soon recognised the evening hymn to +the Virgin:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Mater amata, intemerata,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ora, ora, pro nobis."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So sweetly did the music melt into his soul, that he quite +forgot his thrall, and every sense was attuned to the melody. +When the sound ceased, he made an effort to get free. He +loosened his hands, and immediately tore off the bandage +from his eyes. A few seconds elapsed, when he saw a +light streaming through a crevice. Looking through, he +saw a taper burning before a little shrine, where two females +in white raiment, closely veiled, were kneeling.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>The celebration of such rites, at that time strictly prohibited, +sufficiently accounted for their concealment, and +plainly intimated that the parties were not of the Reformed +faith.</p> + +<p>By the light which penetrated his cell from this source, +he saw it was furnished with a stone bench, and a narrow +flight of steps in one corner communicated with a trap-door +above.</p> + +<p>The old mansion at Belfield, contiguous to these ruins, +once belonging to the Knights of St. John, had been for +some years untenanted, and, as often happens to the lot of +deserted houses, strange noises, sights, and other manifestations +of ghostly occupants were heard and seen by passers-by, +rendering it a neighbourhood not overliked by those +who had business that way after nightfall.</p> + +<p>Gervase Buckley was pretty well assured that he had +been conveyed into some concealed subterranean chamber, +but for what purpose he could not comprehend. He was +not easily intimidated; and, though in a somewhat sorry +plight, he now felt little apprehension on the score of supernatural +visitations: but his seizure did not hold out an immunity +as regards corporeal disturbers. He had not long +to indulge these premonitory reflections ere a door was +opened. A figure, completely enveloped in a black cloak, +on which a red cross was conspicuously emblazoned, stood +before him. He carried a torch, and Gervase saw a short +naked sword glittering in his belt.</p> + +<p>"Follow me," said the intruder; and, without further +parley, pointed to where another door was concealed in the +pavement. This being opened, Gervase beheld, not without +serious apprehension, a flight of steps evidently communicating +with a lower dungeon. His conductor pointed to the +descent, and it would have been useless folly to disobey. A +damp and almost suffocating odour prevailed, as though from +some long pent up atmosphere, which did not give the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +prisoner any increasing relish or affection for the enterprise. +He looked at his conductor, whose face and person were yet +covered. Had he been a familiar of the Holy Inquisition, +he could not have been more careful of concealment. Gervase +looked now and then with a wistful glance towards his +companion's weapon. Being himself unarmed, it would +have been madness to attempt escape. He merely inquired +in his descent,</p> + +<p>"Whence this outrage? I am unarmed, defenceless." +But there was no reply. The guide, with an inclination of +the head, pointed with his torch to the gulph his victim was +about to enter. There was little use in disputation where the +opposite party had so decided an advantage, and he thought +it best to abide the issue without further impediment. He +accordingly descended a few steps. His conductor fastened +the door overhead, and they soon arrived at the bottom, at +a low arched passage, where his guide dashed his flambeau +against the wall, and it was immediately extinguished.</p> + +<p>Gervase was left once more in doubt and darkness. There +was little space for explanation. He felt himself seized by +an invisible hand, hurried unresistingly on, till, without any +preparation, a blaze of light burst upon him.</p> + +<p>It was for a moment too overpowering to enable him to +distinguish objects with any certainty. Soon, however, he +saw a tolerably spacious vault, or crypt, supported by massy +pillars. He had often heard there existed many unexplored +subterranean passages reaching to an incredible distance, +made originally by the Knights Templars for their private +use. One of these, it was said, extended even to the chantry +just then dissolved at Milnrow, more than a mile distant. +Many strange stories he had been told of these warrior +monks. But centuries had elapsed since their suppression. +For a moment, he almost believed they were permitted to +re-appear, doomed at stated periods to re-enact their unhallowed +orgies, their cruelties and their crimes. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +chamber was lighted by three or four torches, their lurid +unsteady light giving an ever-varying character to the surrounding +objects.</p> + +<p>Opposite the entrance was a stone bench, occupied by +several figures attired in a similar manner to his conductor. +An individual in the centre wore in addition a belt, covered +by some cabalistic devices. The scene was sufficiently +inexplicable, and not at all elucidated by the following interrogation:</p> + +<p>"Thou hast been cited to our tribunal," said the chief inquisitor.</p> + +<p>"I know ye not," said Gervase with great firmness, though +hardly aware of the position he occupied.</p> + +<p>"Why hast thou not obeyed our summons?"</p> + +<p>"I have not heard of any such; nor in good sooth should +I have been careful to obey had your mandate been delivered."</p> + +<p>"Croix Rouge," said the interrogator; "has this delinquent +been cited?"</p> + +<p>The person he addressed arose, bowed, and presented a +written answer.</p> + +<p>"I have here," continued the chief, "sufficient proof that +our summons hath been conveyed to thee, and that hitherto +thine answer hath been contumaciously withheld. What +sayest thou?"</p> + +<p>"I have yet to learn, firstly," said Gervase, with more +indignation than prudence, "by what authority ye would +compel me to appear; and, secondly, how and in what form +such mandate hath been sent?"</p> + +<p>"Bethink thee, is our answer to the last,—the first will be +manifested in due time. We might indeed leave thee +ignorant as to what we require, but pity for thy youth and +inexperience forbids. Clegg Hall is, thou knowest, along +with the estate, now unlawfully holden by the Ashtons."</p> + +<p>"I know that sundry Popish recusants plotting the overthrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +of our most gracious Queen, do say that other and +more legitimate rights are in abeyance only; but the present +owners are too well fortified to be dispossessed by +hearsay."</p> + +<p>"In the porch at Clegg thou wast accosted not long ago +by a mendicant who solicited an alms."</p> + +<p>"Probably so."</p> + +<p>"Did he not hold out to thee the sign of the Rosy Cross, +the token of our all-powerful fraternity of Rosicrucians?"</p> + +<p>"I do remember such a signal; and furthermore, I drove +him forth as an impostor and a pretender to forbidden +arts."</p> + +<p>"He showed thee the sign, and bade thee follow."</p> + +<p>"He did."</p> + +<p>"And why was our summons disobeyed?"</p> + +<p>"Because I have yet to learn what authority you possess +either for my summons or detention."</p> + +<p>"The brotherhood of the Red Cross are not disobeyed +with impunity."</p> + +<p>"I have heard of such a fraternity,—as well too that they +be idle cheats and lying impostors."</p> + +<p>"We challenge not belief without sufficient testimony to +the truth of our mission. In pity to man's infirmity this indulgence +is permitted. We unfold the hidden operations, +the very arcana of Nature, whom we unclothe as it were to +her very nakedness. Our doctrines thereby carry credence +even to the most impious and unbelieving. Ere we command +thy submission, it is permitted to behold some manifestation +of our power. By means derived from the hidden essences +of Nature, the first principles which renovate and govern all +things, the very elements of which they consist, we arrive at +the incorporeal essence called spirit, holding converse with +it undebased, uninfluenced by the intervention of matter. +Thus we converse in spirit with those that be absent, even +though they were a thousand leagues apart."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And what has this jargon to do with my being dispatched +hither?"</p> + +<p>"Listen, and reply not; the purport will be vouchsafed to +thee anon. We can compel the spirits even of the absent to +come at our bidding by subtle spells that none have power +to disobey. We too can renew and invigorate life, and by +the universal solvent bring about the renovation of all +things,—renovation and decay being the two antagonist +principles, as light and darkness. As we can make darkness +light, and light darkness at our pleasure, so can we from +decay bring forth life, and the contrary. Seest thou this +dead body?"</p> + +<p>A black curtain he had not hitherto observed, was thrown +aside, and he beheld the features of Grace Ashton, or he was +strangely deceived. She was lying on a little couch, death +visibly imprinted on her collapsed and sunken features.</p> + +<p>"Murderers! I will have ye dealt with for this outrage." +Maddened almost to frenzy he would have rushed towards +her, but he was firmly holden by a power superior to his +own.</p> + +<p>"She is now in the first region of departed spirits," said +the chief. "We have power to compel answer to our interrogatories. +Listen, perverse mortal. We are well assured +that a vast treasure is concealed hereabouts, hidden by the +Knights of St. John. 'Tis beyond our unassisted power to +discover. We have asked counsel of one whom we dare not +disobey, and she it is hath commanded that we cite thee and +Grace Ashton to the tribunal of the Rosy Cross. This corporeal +substance now before us, by reason of its intimate +union with the spirit, purged from the dross of mortality, +will answer any question that may be propounded, and will +utter many strange and infallible prophecies. It will solve +doubtful questions, and discourse of things past, present, and +to come, seeing that she is now in spirit where all knowledge +is perfect, and hath her eyes and understanding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +cleared from the gross film of our corruption. But as spirit +only hath power over those of its own nature, by the law of +universal sympathy, so she answers but to those by whom +she is bidden, that are of the same temperament and affinity, +which is shown by your affiance and love toward each +other."</p> + +<p>The prisoner heard this mystic harangue with a vacant +and fixed expression, as though his mind were wandering, +and he hardly understood the profundity of the discourse. +Every feeling was absorbed in the conviction that some +horrid incantation had for ever deprived him of his beloved. +Then he fancied some imposition had been practised upon +him. Being prevented from a closer examination, at length +he felt some relief in the idea that the form he beheld might +possibly be a counterfeit. He knew not what to say, and +the speaker apparently waited his reply. Finding he was +still silent, the former continued after a brief space:</p> + +<p>"Our questions to this purport must necessarily be propounded +by thee. Art thou prepared?"</p> + +<p>"Say on," said Gervase, determined to try the issue, however +repugnant to his thoughts.</p> + +<p>Two of them now arose and stood at each end of the +couch. The superior first made the sign of the Cross. He +then drew a book from his girdle, and read therein a Latin +exorcism against the intrusion of evil spirits into the body, +commanding those only of a heavenly and benign influence +to attend. He lighted a taper compounded of many strange +ingredients emitting a fragrant odour, and, as the smoke +curled heavily about him, flickering and indistinct, he looked +like some necromancer about to perform his diabolical rites.</p> + +<p>The occupant of that miserable couch lay still as death.</p> + +<p>"The first question," cried out the chief; and he looked +towards the prisoner, who was now suffered to approach +within a few paces of the bed.</p> + +<p>"Is there treasure in this place?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gervase tried to repeat the question, but his tongue clave +to his mouth. For the first time probably in his life he felt +the sensation of horrible, undefined, uncontrollable fear,—that +fear of the unknown and supernatural, that shrinking +from spiritual intercourse even with those we have +loved best. It seemed as though he were in communion +with the invisible world,—that awful, incomprehensible +state of existence; and with beings whose power and essence +are yet unknown, armed, in imagination, with attributes +of terror and of vengeance.</p> + +<p>With a desperate effort, however, he repeated the question. +Breathless, and with intense agony, he awaited the +response. It came! A voice, not from the lips of the recumbent +victim, but as though it were some inward afflatus, +hollow and sepulchral. The lips did not move, but the +following reply was given.</p> + +<p>"There is!"</p> + +<p>Even the guilty confederates started back in alarm at the +success of their own experiment. All was, however, still,—silent +as before.</p> + +<p>Taking courage, the next question was put in like +manner.</p> + +<p>"In what direction?"</p> + +<p>"Under the main pillar at the south-eastern corner of the +vault."</p> + +<p>After another pause, the following questions were asked:</p> + +<p>"How may we obtain the treasure sought?"</p> + +<p>"By diligence and perseverance."</p> + +<p>"At what time?"</p> + +<p>"When the moon hath trine to Mercury in the house of +Saturn."</p> + +<p>"Is it guarded?"</p> + +<p>"It is."</p> + +<p>"By whom?"</p> + +<p>"By a power that shall crush you unless propitiated."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Show us in what manner."</p> + +<p>"I may not; my lips are sealed. That power is superior +to mine; the rest is hidden from me."</p> + +<p>The treasure-seekers were silent, as though disappointed +at this unexpected reply. Another attempt was, however, +made.</p> + +<p>"Shall we prosper in our undertaking?"</p> + +<p>"My time is nigh spent. I beseech you that I may depart, +for I am in great torment."</p> + +<p>"Thou shalt not, until thou answer."</p> + +<p>"Beware!"</p> + +<p>But this admonition was from another source, and in a +different direction. The obscurity and smoke from the +torches made it impossible to judge with any certainty +whence the interruption proceeded.</p> + +<p>Gervase started and turned round. It might be fancy, +but he was confident the features of the Red Woman were +present to his apprehension. Horrors were accumulating. +Even the united brotherhood seemed to tremble as though +in the presence of some being of whom they stood in awe. +They awaited her approach in silence.</p> + +<p>"Fool! did I not warn thee to do <i>my</i> bidding only? And +thou art hankering again, pampering thy cruel lust for +gold. How darest thou question the maiden for this intent? +Hence, and thank thy stars thou art not even now +sent howling to thy doom!"</p> + +<p>This terrible and mysterious woman came forward in +great anger, and the Rosicrucian brotherhood were thereby +in great alarm. "The maid is mine—begone!" said she, +pointing the way.</p> + +<p>Like slaves under their master's frown, they crouched +before this fearful personification of their unhallowed and +forbidden practices, and departed.</p> + +<p>"Gervase Buckley," she cried, "thou art betrothed to +the heiress of yon wide possessions."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am," said he, roused either to courage or desperation, +even in the presence of a being whose power he felt conscious +was not derived from one common source with his +own.</p> + +<p>"Dost thou confirm thy troth?"</p> + +<p>"I do; in life and in death she is mine."</p> + +<p>"Pledge thyself, body and soul, to her."</p> + +<p>"I am hers whilst I live, body and soul. Nothing but +death shall part us."</p> + +<p>"On thy soul's hope thou wilt fulfil this pledge!"</p> + +<p>"I will." Gervase looked wistfully towards his beloved. +The inanimate form was yet pale and still; but a vague +hope possessed him that the witch would again quicken her.</p> + +<p>"'Tis enough. But it must be sealed with blood!"</p> + +<p>He felt her clammy hand on his arm, and a sharp pain as +though from a puncture. He quickly withdrew it, and a +blood-drop fell on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Thou art mine—for ever!"</p> + +<p>A loud yell rang through the vaults, and Gervase felt as +though the doom of the lost spirits were his,—that a whole +troop of fiery demons had assailed him, and that he was +borne away to the pit of torment. Happily his recollection +forsook him, and he became unconscious of future suffering.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 33%;" /> + +<h4>PART THE SECOND.</h4> + +<p>Morning rose bright and ruddy above the hills. The +elder Buckley was up and stirring betimes. Agreeably to +his usual practice, he had retired early to bed, leaving the +household cares and duties to his helpmate. He was sitting +in the porch, when his dame, with a disturbed and portentous +aspect, accosted him:—</p> + +<p>"I know not what hath come to the lad."</p> + +<p>"Gervase—what of him?" said Nicholas, carelessly.</p> + +<p>"He came home very late yesternight. But he did not +speak, and he looked so wan and woe-begone, that I verily +thought he had seen a ghost or some uncanny thing yonder +on his road home. I've just now been to rouse him, but he +will not answer. Prithee go and get speech of him, good or +bad. I think i' my heart the lad's bewitched."</p> + +<p>Nicholas Buckley was a man of few words, especially in +the presence of his helpmate, so he merely groaned out an +incredulous wonder, and went off as he was bidden. He +saw Gervase evidently under the influence of some stupifying +spell. His eyes were open, but he noticed neither the +question nor the person who accosted him. There was +something so horrible and mysterious in his whole appearance, +that the good man felt alarmed, and went back to his +dame with all possible expedition. What <i>could</i> have happened? +They guessed, and made a thousand odd surmises, +improbable enough the greater part, but all merging in the +prevailing bugbear of the day—witchcraft, which was +resorted to as a satisfactory explanation under every possible +difficulty. Had his malady any connection with the unexpected +appearance of the Red Woman and the ring? It was +safe buried, however, and that was a comfort. But after all, +her thoughts always involuntarily recurred to this unpleasant +subject. She could not shake off her suspicions, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +there was little use in attempting further measures unless +she could fight the Evil One with his own weapons. To +this end, she began to cast about for some cunning wizard, +who might countervail the plots of this malicious witch.</p> + +<p>Now at this period, Dr. Dee, celebrated for his extraordinary +revelations respecting the world of spirits, had been +promoted by Queen Elizabeth (a firm believer in astrology +and other recondite pursuits) to the wardenship of the +Collegiate Church at Manchester. His fame had spread far +and wide. He had not long been returned from his mission +to the Emperor Rodolph at Prague, and his intercourse with +invisible things was as firmly believed as the common occurrences +of the day, and as well authenticated.</p> + +<p>The character of Dee has both been underrated and misunderstood. +By most, if not all, he has been looked upon +merely as a visionary and an enthusiast,—credulous and +ambitious, without the power, though he had sufficient will, +to compass the most mischievous designs. But under these +outward weaknesses and superstitions, tinctured and modified +by the prevailing belief in supernatural interferences, +there was a bold and vigorous mind, frustrated, it is true, +by circumstances which he could not control. Dee aimed at +the entire change and subjugation of affairs, ecclesiastical +and political, to the dominion of an unseen power,—a theocracy +or millenium,—himself the sole medium of communication, +the high priest and lawgiver. To this end he sought +the alliance and support of foreign potentates; and his diary +published by Casaubon, the original of which is in the +British Museum, is a remarkable and curious detail of the +intrigues resorted to for this purpose. His mission to the +Emperor Rodolph, offering him the sceptre of universal +dominion, is told with great minuteness; and there is little +doubt that Elizabeth herself did not disdain to converse and +consult with him on this extraordinary project. Her visits +to his house at Mortlake are well known. He had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +consulted as to a favourable day for her coronation, and +received many splendid promises of preferment, that were +never realised. At length, disappointed and hopeless as to +the success of his once daring expectations, he settled down +to the only piece of preferment within his reach, to wit, the +wardenship of the Collegiate Church at Manchester, where +he arrived with his family in the beginning of February, +1596. His advice and assistance were much resorted to, +and particularly in cases of supposed witchcraft and demoniacal +possession,—articles of unshaken belief at that period +with all but speculatists and optimists, the Sadducees of +their day and generation. His chief colleague throughout +his former revelations had been one Edward Kelly, born at +Worcester, where he practised as an apothecary. In his +diary, Dee says, they were brought together by the ministration +of the angel Uriel. He was called Kelly the Seer. +This faculty of "<i>seeing</i>" by means of a magic crystal not +being possessed by the Doctor, he was obliged to have recourse +to Kelly, who had or pretended to have this rare +faculty. Afterwards, however, he found out that Kelly had +deceived him; those spirits which ministered at his bidding +not being messengers from the Deity as he once supposed, +but lying spirits sent to deceive and to betray.</p> + +<p>Kelly was an undoubted impostor, though evidently himself +a believer in magic and the black art. Addicted to +diabolical and mischievous practices, he was a fearful ensample +of those deluders given up to their own inventions to +believe the very lies wherewith they attempted to deceive.</p> + +<p>He was a great treasure-hunter and invoker of demons, +and, it is said, would not scruple to have recourse to the +most disgusting brutalities for the gratification of his avarice +and debauchery. In Weaver's Funereal Monuments, it is +recorded that Kelly, in company with one Paul Waring, +went to the churchyard of Walton-le-Dale, near Preston, +where a person was interred at that time supposed to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +hidden a large sum of money, and who had died without +disclosing the secret. They entered precisely at midnight, +the grave having been pointed out to them the preceding +day. They dug down to the coffin, opened it, and exorcised +the spirit of the deceased, until the body rose from the grave +and stood upright before them. Having satisfied their inquiries, +it is said that many strange predictions were uttered +concerning divers persons in the neighbourhood, which were +literally and remarkably fulfilled.</p> + +<p>At the date of our legend, Kelly had been parted from the +Doctor for a considerable time. The Doctor having found +out his proneness to these evil courses, Kelly bore no good +will to his former patron and associate.</p> + +<p>We have not space, or it would be an interesting inquiry, +as connected with the superstitions of our ancestors, to trace +the character and career of these individuals—men once +famous amongst their cotemporaries, forming part of the +history of those times, and exerting a permanent influence, +immediately on the national character, and remotely on that +of a future and indefinite period.</p> + +<p>Dame Eleanor Buckley was morally certain, firstly, that +her son was witched; and, secondly, that no time should be +lost in procuring relief. Nicholas therefore took horse for +Manchester that very forenoon, with the intention of consulting +the learned Doctor above named, on his son's malady. +Ere he left, however, there came tidings that Grace Ashton +had not returned home, and was supposed to have tarried at +Buckley for the night.</p> + +<p>Trembling at this unexpected news, the dame once more +applied to her son. He was still wide awake on the couch, +in the same position, and apparently unconscious of her presence. +In great anxiety she conjured him to say if he knew +what had befallen Grace Ashton.</p> + +<p>"She is dead!" was his reply, in a voice strangely altered +from his usual careless and happy tone. Nothing further,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +however, could be drawn from him, but shortly after there +came one with additional tidings.</p> + +<p>"Inquiry has been set on foot," said the messenger, +"and Tim, well known at wakes and merry-makings, doth +come forward with evidence which justifies a suspicion that +is abroad, to wit, that she has met death by some unfair +dealing; and, further, he scruples not to throw out dark and +mysterious hints that implicate your son as being privy to +her disappearance."</p> + +<p>At this unlooked for intelligence, the mother's fortitude +gave way. Tribulation and anguish had indeed set in upon +them like a flood. The ring, so unaccountably brought back +by the Red Woman, was beyond doubt the cause of all their +misfortunes—its reappearance, as she anticipated, being +the harbinger of misery. What should be the next arrow +from her quiver she trembled to forebode. But, in the +midst of this fever of doubt and apprehension, one hope +sustained her, and that was, the result of her husband's +mission to Doctor Dee, who would doubtless find out the +nature of the spell, and relieve them from its curse.</p> + +<p>Let us follow the traveller to Dee's lodgings in the +deanery, where at that time this renowned astrologer was +located. Nicholas Buckley found him sitting in a small +dismal looking study, where he was introduced with little +show either of formality or hesitation. The Doctor was now +old, and his sharp, keen, grey eyes had suffered greatly by +reason of rheum and much study. Pale, but of a pleasant +countenance, his manner, if not so grave and sedate as became +one of his deep and learned research, yet displaying a +vigour and vivacity, the sure intimation of that quenchless +ardour, the usual concomitant of all who are destined to +eminence, or to any conspicuous part in the age on which +they are thrown,—not idle worthless weeds on the strand of +time, but landmarks or beacons in the ocean of life, to warn +or to direct.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was short in stature, and somewhat thin. A rusty +black velvet cap, without ornament, surmounted his forehead, +from which a few straggling grey hairs crept forth, +rivalling his pale, thoughtful brow in whiteness.</p> + +<p>He sat in a curiously embossed chair, with a brown-black +leathern cushion, beside an oaken table or tressel, groaning +under the weight of many ponderous volumes of all hues +and subjects. Divers and occult were the tractates there +displayed, and unintelligible save to the initiated. Alchemy +was just then his favourite research, and he was vainly endeavouring +to master the jargon under which its worthlessness +and folly were concealed.</p> + +<p>Nicholas Buckley related his mishap, and, as far as he +was able, the circumstances connected with it. The Doctor +then erected a horoscope for the hour. After consulting this +he said:</p> + +<p>"I will undertake for thee, if so be that my poor abilities, +hitherto sorely neglected, and I may say despised, can bring +thee any succour. Indeed the land groans by reason of the +sin of witchcraft,—a noisome plague now infesting this +afflicted realm, and a grievous scandal to the members and +ministers of our Reformed Church. The ring is of a surety +bewitched, and by one more powerful and wicked than thou +canst possibly imagine. I tell thee plainly, that unless the +charm be broken, the recovery of the young man were +vain,—nay, in all likelihood, thine own ruin will be the +result."</p> + +<p>The merchant groaned audibly at this doleful news. He +thought upon his merchandise and his adventures o'er sea—his +treasures and his argosies, committed to the tender mercies +of the deep; and he recounted them in brief.</p> + +<p>"Cannot these be rescued from such disaster?" inquired +he, dolefully.</p> + +<p>"I know not yet," was the reply. "Saturn, that hath his +location here, governing these expected treasures, now beholds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +the seventh house of the figure I have just erected, with a +quartile aspect. They be evil tokens, but as regards this +same Mother Red Cap or the Red Woman, who hath doubtless +brought you into grievous trouble, I know her. Nay, +look not incredulous. How, it is not needful to inquire. +Suffice it that she hath great power, though from a different +source from mine. She is of the Rosicrucian order, one of +the sisters, of which there are five throughout Europe and +Asia. They have intercourse with spirits, communicating +too with each other, though at never so great a distance, by +means of this mystical agency. She hath been here, aye, +even in the very place where thou sittest."</p> + +<p>The visitor started from his chair.</p> + +<p>"And I am not ignorant of her devices. She is of a +Papistical breed; and the recusant priests, if I mistake not, +are at the working of some diabolical plot; it may be against +the life and government of our gracious Queen! They would +employ the devil himself, if need were, to compass their +intent. She hath travelled much, and doubtless hath learned +marvellous secrets from the Moors and Arabian doctors. It +is however little to the purpose at present, that we continue +this discourse. What more properly concerns thee is how +to get rid of this grievous visitation; which, unless removed, +will of a surety fall out to thine undoing. By prayer and +fasting much may be accomplished, together with the use of +all lawful means for thy release."</p> + +<p>"Alas!" said Buckley, "I fear me there is little hope of a +favourable issue, and I may not be delivered from this wicked +one!"</p> + +<p>"Be of good heart—we will set to work presently, and, if +it be possible, counterplot this cunning witch. But to this +end it is needful that I visit the young man, peradventure +we may gather tidings of her. I know not any impediment +to my journey this very day. Aye! even so," said he, +poring over some unimaginable diagrams. "Good! there is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +a marvellous proper aspect for our enterprise thirty minutes +after midnight. Thou hast doubtless taken horse with thy +servant hither. I will take his place and bear thee company."</p> + +<p>The Doctor was soon equipped for travel, much to the +comfort of the afflicted applicant, who was like to have taken +his departure with a sorry heart, and in great disquietude. +On their arrival at Buckley, Dee would needs see the patient +instantly. No change had taken place since morning, and +he still refused any sustenance that might be offered. The +Doctor examined him narrowly, but refrained from pronouncing +on his case.</p> + +<p>It was now evening. The sun shot a languid and fitful +ray athwart the vapours gathering to receive him, and its +light shone full on the couch of the invalid. The astrologer +was sitting apart, in profound meditation. Dame Eleanor +suddenly roused him.</p> + +<p>"He has just asked for the Red Woman," said she, "and I +heard him bemoaning himself, saying that he is betrothed to +her, and that she will come ere long to claim his pledge. +Hark, he mutters again!"</p> + +<p>Dee immediately went to the bedside.</p> + +<p>"I did not kill her," said the victim, shuddering. He +dashed the cold sweat from his forehead with some violence. +He then started up. "Is she come?" said he in a low, hollow +voice, and he sat up in the attitude of intense expectation. +"Not yet, not yet," he uttered with great rapidity, and sank +down again as though exhausted.</p> + +<p>A stormy and lowering sky now gathered above the sun's +track, and the chamber suddenly grew dark. The inmates +looked as though expecting some terrific, some visible +manifestation of their tormentor. Dee looked out through +the window. There was nothing worthy of remark, save an +angry heap of clouds, rolling and twisting together, the sure +forerunner of a tempest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The whole country is astir," said Dame Eleanor. "They +are seeking for the body of Grace Ashton in pits and secret +places. Woe is me that I should live to see the day;—the +poor lad there is loaden with curses, and fearful threatenings +are uttered against us. We are verily in jeopardy of our +lives."</p> + +<p>Hereat she fell a weeping, and truly it was piteous to +behold.</p> + +<p>"We must first get an answer from him," said the Doctor, +"ere measures can be devised for his recovery."</p> + +<p>"'Tis said there will be a warrant for his apprehension on +the morrow," said the elder Buckley.</p> + +<p>"There is some terrible perplexing mystery, if not +knavery in this matter," said Dee; "and I have been +thinking, nay I more than suspect, that rascal Kelly hath a +hand in it. He is ever hankering after forbidden arts, and +many have fallen the innocent victims to his diabolical +intrigues. He hath become a great adept of late, too, as I +am told, in this Rosicrucian philosophy; and, if we have +here a clue to our labyrinth, depend on it we'll get to the end +speedily. To spite and frustrate that juggling cheat, I will +spare neither pains nor study; though, of a surety, we only +use lawful and appointed means. Prayers and exorcisms +must be resorted to, and help craved from a higher source +than theirs."</p> + +<p>At length the forms and usages generally resorted to on +such occasions were entered upon. Loud and fervent were +the responses, continuing even to a late hour, but without +producing any change.</p> + +<p>The wind, hitherto rushing only in short fierce gusts +through the valley, now gathered in loud heavy lunges +against the corner of the house, almost extinguishing the +solitary light on the table near to which Dee sat; the +casements rattled, and the whole fabric shook as they +passed by. At length there came a lull, fearful in its very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +silence, as though the elements were gathering strength +for one mighty onslaught. On it came like an overwhelming +surge, and for a moment threatened them with immediate +destruction. Dust, pebbles, and dead branches were +flung on the window as though bursting through, to +the great terror of the inmates. Again it drew back, +and there was stillness so immediate, it was even more +appalling than the loudest assaults of the tempest. The +household, too, were silent. Even Dee was evidently disturbed, +and as though in expectation of some extraordinary +occurrence.</p> + +<p>A sharp quick tapping was heard at the casement.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" was the general inquiry. Gervase +evidently heard it too, and was, apparently, listening.</p> + +<p>Dee arose. He went slowly towards the window, as if +carefully scrutinising what might present itself. He put +his face nearly close to the glass, and manifestly beheld +some object which caused him to draw back. His forehead +became puckered by intense emotion, either from surprise +or alarm. He put one finger on his brow, as though taking +counsel from his own thoughts, deliberating for a moment +what course to pursue. At length, much to the astonishment +of his companions, he opened the latch of the casement, +when, with a dismal croak, a raven came hopping in. With +outstretched wings he jumped down on the floor, and would +have gone direct to the bed, but the Doctor caught him, and +by main force held him back.</p> + +<p>Fluttering and screaming, the bird made every effort to +escape, but not before Dee was aware of a label tied round +his neck. This he quickly detached; after which the +winged messenger flew back through the open window, +either having finished his errand, or not liking his entertainment. +Dee opened the billet—a bit of parchment—and +out dropped the ring! In the envelope was a mystical +scroll, encompassed with magic emblems, wherein was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +written the following doggrel, either in blood or coloured +so as to represent it:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"By this ring a charm is wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolling darkly round and round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er beginning—ending never,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe betide this house for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art mine through life—in death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll receive thy latest breath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plighted is thy vow to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine thy doom, thy destiny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sealed with blood; this endless token,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the spell, shall ne'er be broken."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Alarm was but too legible on the Doctor's brow. He was +evidently taken by surprise. He read it aloud, while fearful +groans responded from the victim.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a case of grievous perplexity," said he, "and I am +sore distraught. If he have sworn his very soul to her, as +this rhyme doth seem to intimate, I am miserably afflicted +for his case. Doubtless 'tis some snare which hath unwillingly +been thrown about him. Nevertheless, I will diligently +and warily address myself to the task, and Heaven +grant us a safe deliverance. Yet I freely own there is both +danger and extremity in the attempt. She will doubtless +appear and claim the fulfilment of his pledge. But I must +cope with her alone; none else may witness the conflict. +It is not the first time that I have battled with the powers +of darkness."</p> + +<p>"But what motive hath she for this persecution? it is not +surely out of sheer malice," said the dame, weeping.</p> + +<p>"Belike not," replied Dee, thoughtfully. "It doth savour +of those incantations whereof I oft read in divers tractates, +whereby she expects to gain advantage or deliverance if +she sacrifice another victim to the demon whereunto she +hath sold herself. Indeed, we hear of some whose tenure +of life can only be renewed by the yearly substitution of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +another; and it is to this possible danger that our feeble +efforts must be directed. But I trust in aid stronger than +the united hosts of the Prince of Darkness. This very night, +I doubt not, will come the final struggle."</p> + +<p>The wind was now still, but ever and anon bursts of hail +hurtled on the window. Thunder growled in the distance, +waxing louder and louder, until its roar might have appalled +the stoutest heart.</p> + +<p>With many anxious wishes and admonitions the distressed +parents left the Doctor to himself.</p> + +<p>He took from his pocket an hour-glass, a bible, and a +Latin translation from the Arabic, being a treatise on +witches, genii, demons, and the like, together with their +symbols, method of invocation, and many other subjects +equally useful. Intent on his studies, he hardly looked +aside save for the purpose of turning the glass, when he +immediately became absorbed as before.</p> + +<p>Now and then he cast a glance towards the bed. His +patient lay perfectly quiet, but the Doctor fancied he was +listening.</p> + +<p>About midnight he heard a groan; he shut his book, and, +looking aside, beheld the terrible eye and aspect of the Red +Woman glaring fiercely upon him. She had, in all likelihood, +been concealed somewhere within hearing; for a +closet door, on one side of the chamber, stood open as +though she had just issued from it.</p> + +<p>With great presence of mind he adjured her that she +should declare her errand.</p> + +<p>"I am here on my master's business; mine errand concerns +not thee," was the reply. Her terrible eyes glanced, +as she spoke, towards the bed where the unfortunate Gervase +Buckley lay writhing as though in torment.</p> + +<p>"By what compact or agreement is he thine, foul sorceress? +Knowest thou not that there are bounds beyond +which ye cannot prevail?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He hath sworn—the compact is sealed with blood, and +must be fulfilled. I am here to claim mine own; and it is +at thy peril thou prevent me."</p> + +<p>"I fear thee not, but am prepared to withstand <i>thee</i> and +all thy works."</p> + +<p>"Beware! There's a black drop in thine own cup," said +she. "Thou thyself hast sought counsel by forbidden arts, +and I can crush thee in a moment."</p> + +<p>Dee looked as though vanquished on the sudden. He +was not altogether clear from this charge, having, though +at Kelly's instigation, been led somewhat further than was +advisable into practices which in his heart he condemned. +He, however, now felt convinced that Kelly had some hand +in the business, knowing too that he would associate with +the most wicked and abandoned, if so be that he might +compass his greedy and unhallowed desire.</p> + +<p>"Depart whilst thou may," she continued. "I warn +thee. Yonder inheritance is mine, though the silly damsel +they have lost be the reputed heir. Aforetime I have told +thee. Wronged of our rights, I have sold myself, aye body +and soul, for revenge! By unjust persecutions we have +been proscribed, those of the true faith have been forced to +fly, and even our lands and our patrimony given to yon +graceless heretics."</p> + +<p>"But why persecute this unoffending house?—they have +not done <i>thee</i> wrong."</p> + +<p>"It is commanded—the doom must be fulfilled. One +condition only was appointed. A hard task, to wit—but +what cannot power and ingenuity compass?—'When one +shall pledge himself thine and for ever, then the inheritance +thou seekest is thine also, which none shall take from thee. +But he too must be rendered up to me.' This was the +doom! 'Tis fulfilled. He hath pledged himself body and +soul, and that ring, if need be, is witness to his troth."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is Grace Ashton living or dead?" inquired Dee, with a +firm and penetrating glance.</p> + +<p>"When he hath surrendered to his pledge it shall be told +thee."</p> + +<p>"Wicked sorceress," said the Doctor, rising in great +anger, "he shall not be thy victim; thine arts shall be +countervailed. The powers of darkness are not, in the +end, permitted to prevail, though for a time their devices +seem to prosper. Listen, and answer me truly, or I will +compel thee in such wise that thou darest not disobey. Was +there none other condition to thy bond?"</p> + +<p>The weird woman here broke forth into a laugh so wild +and scornful, that the arch-fiend himself could hardly have +surpassed it in malice.</p> + +<p>"Fret not thyself," she said, "and I will tell thee. +Know then I am scathless from all harm until that feeble +ring shall be able to bind me; none other bonds may +prevail."</p> + +<p>"This ring bind thee?"</p> + +<p>"Even so—and as a blade of grass I could rend it! +Judge then of my safety. Fire, air, and water—all the +elements—cannot have the power to hurt me; I hold a +charmed life. The price is paid!"</p> + +<p>Dee looked curiously round the little thin ring which he +held, and indeed it were hopeless to suppose so frail a fetter +could restrain her.</p> + +<p>"Thou hast told me the truth?"</p> + +<p>"I have—on my hope of prospering in this pursuit of +our patrimony."</p> + +<p>"And what is thy purpose with the lad?"</p> + +<p>"I have need of him. He is my hostage to him whom I +serve."</p> + +<p>"Thou wilt not take him by force?"</p> + +<p>"I will not. He will follow whithersoever I lead. He +has neither will nor power to disobey."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Grant a little space I prithee. 'Tis a doleful doom for +one so young."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow my time hath expired. Either he or I must +be surrendered to——" Here she pointed downwards.</p> + +<p>"Agreed. To-morrow, at this hour. We will be prepared."</p> + +<p>The witch unwillingly departed as she came. The closet +door was shut as with a violent gust of wind, after which +Dee sat pondering deeply on the matter, but unable to come +to any satisfactory conclusion. He never suspected for one +moment, what in this evil and matter-of-fact generation +would have occurred even to the most credulous, to wit, +that either insanity or fanaticism, aided by fortuitous events, +if we may so speak, was the cause of this delusion, at least to +the unhappy woman now the object of Dee's most abstruse +speculations. His thoughts, however, would often recur to +his quondam associate Kelly, and, if in the neighbourhood, +which he suspected, an interview with him might possibly +be of use, and afford some clue to guide their proceedings.</p> + +<p>Committing himself to a short repose, he determined to +make diligent search for this mischievous individual,—having +comforted in some measure the unhappy couple below +stairs, who were in a state of great apprehension lest their +son had already fallen a victim, and were ready to give up +all for lost.</p> + +<p>Early on the ensuing day, the Doctor bent his steps towards +Clegg Hall, whence the old family of that name had +been dispossessed, and from whom that mysterious individual, +the Red Woman, claimed descent.</p> + +<p>The air was fresh and bracing after the night's tempest. +Traces of its fury, however, were plainly visible. Huge +trees had been swept down, as though some giant hand had +crushed them. Rising the hill towards Belfield, he stayed +a moment to look round him. There was something in the +loneliness and desertion of the spot that was congenial to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +his thoughts. The rooks cawed round their ancient inheritance, +but all was ruin and disorder. His curiosity was +excited; he had sufficient local knowledge to remember it +was once an establishment of the Knights of St. John some +centuries before, and he remembered too, that, according to +vulgar tradition, great riches were buried somewhere in the +vaults. A thought struck him that it was not an unlikely +spot for the operations of Master Kelly. Impressed with +this idea, a notion was soon engendered that his errand +need not carry him further. He drew near to the ivied +archway beneath the tower. The mavis whistled for its +mate, and the sparrow chirped amongst the foliage. All +else was silent and apparently deserted. He entered the +gateway. Inside, on the right hand, was a narrow flight of +steps, and, impelled by curiosity, he clambered, though with +some difficulty, into a dilapidated chamber above. Here +the loopholes were covered with ivy, but it was unroofed, +and the floor was strewn with rubbish, the accumulation of +ages. Through a narrow breach at one corner he saw +what had once been a concealed passage, evidently piercing +the immense thickness of the walls, and leading probably +to some secret chambers not ordinarily in use. He now +heard voices below, and taking advantage thereby, crept +into the passage, probably expecting to gather some news +by listening to the visitors if they approached. Two of +these ascended the broken steps, and every word was audible +from his place of concealment. He instantly recognised +the voice of Kelly. The other was a stranger.</p> + +<p>"Ah, ah! old Mother Red Cap, I tell thee, says we can +never get the treasure. By this good spade, and a willing +arm to wit, the gold is mine, ere two hours older," said +Kelly.</p> + +<p>"I am terribly afeard o' these same bogarts," replied his +companion. "T'owd an—'ll come sure enough among us, +sure as my name's Tim, some time or another."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never fear, nunkey; thee knows what a lump I've promised +thee; an' as for the old one, trust me for that, I can +lay him in the Red Sea at any time. Haven't I and that old +silly Doctor, who pretends forsooth to have conscience +qualms when there's aught to be gotten, though as fond o' +the stuff as any of us,—haven't we, I say, by conjurations +and fumigations, raised and laid a whole legion o' them? +Why, man, I'm as well acquainted with the kingdom of +Beelzebub, and his ministers to boot, as I am with my own."</p> + +<p>"Don't make sich an ugly talk about 'em, prithee, good +sir. I thought I heard some'at there i' the passage, an' I +think i' my heart I dar na face 'em again for a' th' gowd i' +th' monks' cellar."</p> + +<p>"Tush, fool! If we get hold on't now, it shall be ours, +and none o' the rest of our brethren o' the Red Cross need +share, thee knows. But thou be'st but newly dubbed, an' +hardly initiated yet in our sublime mysteries. Nevertheless, +I will be indifferent honest too, and for thy great services +to us and to our cause, I do promise thee a largess, +when it comes to our fingers,—that is to say, one-fifth to +thee, and one-fifth to me; the other three shares do go to +the general treasure-house of the community, of which I +take half."</p> + +<p>"A goodly portion, marry—but I'd liefer t' not gang +ony further."</p> + +<p>"Villain! thou art bent on treachery; if thou draw back, +I'll ha' thee hanged, or otherwise punished for what thou +hast done. Remember, knave, thou art in my power."</p> + +<p>The guilty victim groaned piteously, but he was irretrievably +entangled. The toils had been spread by a master +hand. He saw the gulf to which he was hurried, but +could not extricate himself.</p> + +<p>"Yonder women, plague take 'em," said Tim; "what's up +now? I know this owd witch who's sold hersel' to—to—black +face I'm afeard, is th' owner o' many a good rood o'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +land hereabout, an' t'owd Ha' too, wi' its 'purtenances. But +she's brought fro' Spain or Italy, as I be tou'd, a main lot +o' these same priest gear; an' they're lurkin' hereabout +like, loike rabbits in a warren, till she can get rid o' these +Ashtons. Mony a year long past I've seen her prowling +about, but she never could get her ends greadly till now."</p> + +<p>"By my help, she shall," said Kelly; "it's a bargain between +us. She's brought her grandchildren too, who left +England in their youth, being educated in a convent o'er +seas. They're just ready to drop into possession."</p> + +<p>"But poor Grace Ashton, she's gi'en me mony a dish of +hot porritch an' bannocks. She shauna be hurt, if I can +help it."</p> + +<p>"Fool!—the wench must be provided for. Look thee,—if +she get away, she'll spoil all. When dead, young Buckley +must be charged with the murder."</p> + +<p>"Weel, weel; but I'll ha' nought more to do wi't. E'en +tak' your own fling,—I'll wash my hands on't a'together, +an' so——"</p> + +<p>"I want help, thou chicken-faced varlet,—come, budge,—to +thy work; we may have helpers to the booty, if time +be lost."</p> + +<p>"Mercy on us!" said Tim, in great dolour, "I wish I had +ne'er had aught to do wi' treasure-hunting an' sich like occupation. +If ever I get rid of this job, if I don't stick to +my old trade hang me up to dry."</p> + +<p>"Hold thy peace, carrion! and remember, should a whisper +even escape thee, I will have thee hanged in good +earnest."</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye; just like Satan 'ticing to iniquity, an' then, +biggest rogue al'ays turns retriever."</p> + +<p>"None o' thy pretences; thou hast as liquorish a longing +after the gold as any miser in the parish, and when the broad +pieces and the silver nobles jingle in thy fob, thoul't forget +thy qualms, and thank me into the bargain. Now to work.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +Let me see, what did the sleeping beauty say? Humph,—'Under +the main pillar at the south-east corner.' Good. +Nay, man, don't light up yet. Let us get fairly under +ground first, for fear of accidents."</p> + +<p>To the great alarm of Dr. Dee, who heard every word, +these two worthies came straight towards the opening. He +drew on one side at a venture. Luckily, it proved the right +one; they proceeded up the passage in the opposite direction. +He heard them groping at the further end. A trap-door +was evidently raised, and he was pretty well convinced +they had found the way to the vaults; probably it had been +blocked up for ages until recently, and, in all likelihood, +Tim had pointed it out, as well as the notion that treasure +was concealed somewhere in these labyrinths.</p> + +<p>How to make this discovery in some way subservient to +his mission was the next consideration; and with a firm +conviction, generally the forerunner of success, he determined +to employ some bold stratagem for their detection. +They were now fairly in the trap, and he hoped to make +sure of the vermin. For this end he cautiously felt his +way to the opposite extremity of the passage, where he +found the floor emitted a hollow sound. This was assuredly +the entrance; but he tried in vain,—it resisted every effort. +Here, however, he determined to keep watch and seize +them if possible on their egress, trusting to his good fortune +or his courage for help in any emergency that might ensue. +At times he laid his ear to the ground, but nothing was +audible as to their operations below. This convinced him +they were at a considerable distance from the entry, but +he felt assured that ere long they must emerge from their +den, when, taken by surprise, he should have little difficulty +in securing the first that came forth, keeping fast the door +until he had made sure of his captive.</p> + +<p>He watched patiently for some time, when all on a +sudden he heard a rumbling subterraneous noise, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +plainly felt the ground tremble under his feet. A loud +shriek was heard below, and presently footsteps approaching +the entrance. He had scarcely time to draw aside ere the +door was burst open, and some one rushed forth. The +Doctor seized him by the throat, and, ere he had recovered +from his consternation, dragged him out of the passage.</p> + +<p>"Villain! what is it ye are plotting hereabout? Confess, +or I'll have thee dealt with after thy deserts."</p> + +<p>"Oh!—I'll—tell—all—I will—" sobbed out the delinquent, +gasping with terror. Tim, for it was none other, +fell on his knees, crying for mercy. "Whoever thou art," +continued he, "come and help—help for one that's fa'n +under a heavy calamity. Bad though he be, we maunna +let him perish for lack o' lookin' after."</p> + +<p>"Has't got a light, knave?"</p> + +<p>"I'll run an' fetch one."</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay; we part not company until better acquainted. +Is there not a candle below?"</p> + +<p>"Alas! 'tis put out—and—oh! I'd forgotten; here's +t' match box i' my pocket."</p> + +<p>He drew forth the requisite materials, and they were +soon equipped, exploring the concealed chambers we have +before described. With difficulty they now found their +way, by reason of the dust arising from the recent catastrophe. +Dee followed cautiously on, keeping a wary eye +on his leader lest some deceit or stratagem should be intended.</p> + +<p>They now approached a heap of ruins almost choking the +entrance to the larger vault. He thought groans issued +from beneath.</p> + +<p>"He's not dead yet," said Tim. "Here, here, good sir; +help me to shift this stone first."</p> + +<p>They set to work in good earnest, and, with no little +difficulty and delay, at length succeeded in releasing the +unfortunate treasure-hunter. Eager to possess the supposed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +riches, they had incautiously undermined one of the main +supports of the roof, and Kelly was buried under the ruins. +Fortunately he lay in the hollow he had made, otherwise +nothing but a miracle could have saved him from immediate +death. He was terribly bruised, nevertheless, and +presented a pitiable spectacle. Bleeding and sore wounded, +he was hardly sensible as they bore him out into the fresh +air. Apparently unable to move, they laid him on the +ground until help could be obtained. In a while he recovered.</p> + +<p>"Thou art verily incorrigible," said the Doctor to his +former associate. "Where is the maiden ye have so +cruelly conveyed away?"</p> + +<p>But Kelly was dogged, and would not answer.</p> + +<p>"I have heard and know all," continued Dee; "so that, +unless thou wilt confess, assuredly I will have thee lodged +in the next jail on accusation of the murder. Thy diabolical +practices will, sooner or later, bring thee to punishment."</p> + +<p>"Promise not to molest me," said Kelly, who feared +nothing but the strong arm of the law, so utterly was he +given over to a reprobate mind, even to commit iniquity +with greediness.</p> + +<p>"What! and let thee forth to compass other, and may +be more heinous, mischief? I promise nothing, save that +thou be prevented from such pursuits. Thou hast entered +into covenant with the woman whom it is our purpose, in +due time, to deliver up to the secular arm. Ye think to +compass your mutual ends by this compact; but be assured +your schemes shall be frustrated, and that speedily."</p> + +<p>At this Kelly again fell into a sulky mood, maimed and +helpless though he was; and revenge, dark and deadly, +distorted his visage.</p> + +<p>Tim here stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"I do repent me of this iniquity, an' if ever I'm catched<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +meddlin' wi' sich tickle gear again, I'll gie ye leave to hang +me up without judge or jury."</p> + +<p>"The best proof of repentance is restitution," said the +Doctor. "Knowest thou aught of the maiden?"</p> + +<p>"I'll find her, if ye can keep that noisome wizard frae +hurting me. He swears that if I tell, e'en by nods, winks, +or otherwise, he'll send me to —— in a whirlwind."</p> + +<p>"I will give thee my pledge, not a hair of thy head +shall be damaged."</p> + +<p>"He has the key in his pocket."</p> + +<p>"What of that?"</p> + +<p>"It's the key to the old house door yonder, an' she's +either there, or but lately fetched away."</p> + +<p>The Doctor proceeded, though not without opposition, to +the search. The key was soon produced, and, accompanied +by the repentant ballad-monger, he approached the mansion, +which, as we have before noticed, was near at hand, apparently +untenanted.</p> + +<p>"Yonder knave, I think, cannot escape," said Dee.</p> + +<p>"No, no," said his conductor, "unless some'at fetches +him; he's too well hampered for that. His legs are aw +smashed wi' that downfa'."</p> + +<p>They entered a little court almost choked up with leaves +and long grass. The door was unlocked, and a desolate +scene presented itself. The hall was covered with damp +and mildew, all was rotting in ruin and decay. Tim led +the way up stairs. The same appearances were still manifest. +The dark shadow of death seemed to brood there,—an +interminable silence. They entered a small closet, nearly +dark; and here, on a miserable pallet, lay the form of +Grace Ashton! now, alas! pale and haggard. She seemed +altogether unconscious of their presence. The horrid events +of the preceding night had brought on mental as well as +bodily disease. It was the practice of these treasure-seekers, +either to raise up a dead body for the desired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +information, or to throw the living into such a state of +mental hallucination that they should answer dark and +difficult questions whilst in that condition. It not unfrequently +happened, however, that the unfortunate victims +to these horrid rites either lost their lives or their reason +during the experiment.</p> + +<p>We will not pursue the recital in the present case: +suffice it to say that Grace Ashton was immediately removed +and placed under the care of her friends; the +Doctor went back to Kelly for further disclosures, but what +was his surprise to find that, by some means or another, +he had escaped. He now lost no time in returning to +Buckley, communicating the painful, though in some degree +welcome, intelligence that Grace Ashton had been rescued +from her persecutors.</p> + +<p>It was now time to adopt measures for their reception +of the witch, who would, doubtless, not fail in her appointment.</p> + +<p>Dee was yet in doubt as to the issue, and he thought it +needful to acquaint them with the only method by which +the spell could be broken. How it were possible that the +ring should ever bind her was a mystery that at present he +could not solve. Dame Eleanor listened very attentively, +then sharply replied,—</p> + +<p>"I have heard o' this charm aforetime, or——By'r +Lady, but I have it!"</p> + +<p>She almost capered for joy.</p> + +<p>We will not, however, anticipate the result, but intreat +our readers to suspend their guesses, and again accompany +us to the chamber where lay the heir of Buckley, still +grievously tormented.</p> + +<p>Midnight again approached. Dee was sitting at the +table, apparently in deep study. He had examined the +closet, and found it communicated by another passage to +an outer door; and it was through this that the Red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +Woman had contrived to enter without being observed. +The learned Doctor was evidently awaiting her approach +with no little anxiety. Once or twice he fancied some one +tapped at the casement,—but it was only the wind rushing +by in stormy gusts, increasing in strength and frequency as +the time drew nigh.</p> + +<p>Hark! was not that a distant shriek? It might be the +creaking of the boughs and the old yew-tree by the door, +thought Dee; and again, in a while, he relapsed into a +profound reverie. Another! He heard the jarring of +rusty hinges; a heavy step; and—the Red Woman stood +beside him!—but with such a malevolent aspect that he +was somewhat startled and uneasy at her presence.</p> + +<p>"I am beguiled of my prey!—mocked—thwarted. But +beware, old man; thy meddling may prove dangerous. I +will possess the inheritance, though every earthly power +withstood me! That boy is mine. He hath sworn it—sealed +it with his heart's blood—and I demand the pledge." +The victim groaned. "Hearest thou that response?—'Tis +an assent. He is mine in spite of your stratagems."</p> + +<p>This was, probably, but the raving of a disordered +intellect, but Dee was too deeply imbued with the superstitions +of the age to suppose for a moment that it was not +a case of undisguised witchcraft, or that this wicked hag +was not invested with sufficient power to execute whatever +either anger or caprice might suggest.</p> + +<p>"What is thy will with the wretched victim thou hast +ensnared?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"I have told thee."</p> + +<p>"Thou wilt not convey him away bodily to his tormentors?"</p> + +<p>"Unless they have a victim the inheritance may not be +mine." She said this with such a fiendish malice that +made even the exorcist tremble. His presence of mind, +however, did not forsake him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The ring—I remember—there was a condition in the +bond. In all such compacts there is ever a loophole for +escape."</p> + +<p>"None that thou canst creep through," she said, with a +look of scorn.</p> + +<p>"It is not permitted that the children of men be tempted +above measure."</p> + +<p>"When that ring shall have strength to bind me, and +not till then. All other bonds I rend asunder. Even +adamant were as flaming tow."</p> + +<p>"Here is a ring of stout iron," said Dee, pointing to an +iron ring fixed by a stout staple in the wall. "I think it +would try thy boasted strength."</p> + +<p>"I could break it as the feeble reed."</p> + +<p>The Doctor shook his head incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Try me. Thou shalt find it no empty boast."</p> + +<p>She seemed proud that her words should be put to the +test; and even proposed that her arms should be pinioned, +and her body fastened with stout cords to the iron ring +which had been prepared for this purpose.</p> + +<p>"Thou shalt soon find which is the strongest," said she, +exultingly. "I have broken bonds ere now to which these +are but as a thread."</p> + +<p>She looked confident of success, and surveyed the whole +proceeding with a look of unutterable scorn.</p> + +<p>"Now do thy worst, thou wicked one," said Dee, when +he had finished.</p> + +<p>But lo! a shriek that might have wakened the dead. +She was unable to extricate herself, being held in spite of +the most desperate efforts to escape. With a loud yell she +cried out,—</p> + +<p>"Thou hast played me false, demon!"</p> + +<p>"'Tis not thy demon," said Dee; "it is I that have circumvented +thee. In that iron ring is concealed the charmed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +one, wrought out by a cunning smith to this intent,—to +wit, the deliverance of a persecuted house."</p> + +<p>The Red Woman now appeared shorn of her strength. +Her charms and her delusions were dispelled. She sank +into the condition of a hopeless, wretched maniac, and was +for some time closely confined to this chamber.</p> + +<p>Buckley, recovering soon after, was united to Grace +Ashton, who it is confidently asserted, and perhaps believed, +was restored to immediate health when the charm +was broken.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE DEATH-PAINTER;</h2> + +<h5>OR,</h5> + +<h3>THE SKELETON'S BRIDE.</h3> + + +<p>"This will hardly keep body and soul together," said +Conrad Bergmann, as he eyed with a dissatisfied countenance +some score of dingy kreutzers thrust into his palm by a +"patron of early genius,"—one of those individuals who +take great merit to themselves by just keeping their victims +in that enviable position between life and death;—between +absolute starvation and hopeless, abject poverty, which effectually +represses all efforts to excel, controls and quenches +all, but longings after immortality,—who just fan the flame, +to let it smoke and quiver in the socket, but sedulously +prevent it rising to any degree of steadiness and brilliance.</p> + +<p>Conrad that morning had taken home a picture, his sole +occupation for two months, and this patron, a dealer in the +"fine arts," dwelling in the good, quiet city of Mannheim, +had given him a sum equivalent to thirty-six shillings sterling +for his labour. Peradventure, it was not in the highest +style of art; but what Schwartzen Bären or Weisse Rösse—Black +Bears, White Horses, Spread Eagles, and the like, +the meanest, worst painted signs in the city, would not have +commanded a higher price?</p> + +<p>In fact, Conrad had just genius enough to make himself +miserable; to wit, by aspiring after those honours it was +impossible to attain, keeping him thereby in a constant fret<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +and disappointment, instead of being content with his station, +or striving for objects within his reach. Could he +have drudged on as some dauber of sign-posts, or taken to +useful employment, he might, doubtless, have earned a comfortable +sustenance. He had, however, like many another +child of genius, a soul above such vulgarities; yearning +after the ideal and the vain; having too much genius for +himself and too little for the world: suspended in a sort of +Mahomet's coffin, between earth and heaven, contemned, +rejected, by "gods, men, and columns."</p> + +<p>Conrad Bergmann was about two and twenty, of good +figure and well-proportioned features. Complexion fair, +bright bluish-grey eyes, whiskers well matched with a pale, +poetical, it might be sickly, hue of countenance, and an expression +more inclining to melancholy than persons of such +mean condition have a right to assume. His father had +brought him up to a trade, an honest, thriving business, to +wit, that of <i>Knopfmacher</i> (button-maker). But Conrad, +the youngest, and his mother's favourite, happened to be +indulged with more idle time than the rest, which, for the +most part, was laudably expended in scrawling sundry +hideous representations—all manner of things, on walls +and wainscoats. Persevering in this occupation, he was +forthwith pronounced a genius. About the age of fifteen, +Conrad saw a huge "St. Christopher," by a native artist, +and straightway his destiny was fixed. He struggled on +for some years with little success, save being pronounced +by the gossips "marvellously clever." His performances +wanted that careful and elaborate course of study indispensable +even to the most exalted genius. They were not only +glaring, tawdry, and ill-drawn, but worse conceived; flashy, +crude accumulations of colour, only rendering their defects +more apparent. He was, in a great measure, self-taught. +His impetuous, ardent imagination could not endure the +labour requisite to form an artist. He would fain have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +read ere he had learned to spell; and the result might +easily have been foretold.</p> + +<p>His father died; and the family were but scantily provided +for. Conrad was now forced to make out a livelihood +by what was previously an amusement, not having "a +trade in his fingers;" and he toiled on, selling his productions +for the veriest trifle. He had now no leisure for +improvement in the first elements of his art.</p> + +<p>"Better starve or beg, better be errand-boy or lackey, +than waste my talents on such an ungrateful world. I'll +turn conjurer—fire-eater—mountebank;—set the fools +agape at fairs and pastimes. Anything rather than killing—starving +by inches. Why, the criminals at hard labour +in the fortress have less work and better fare. I wish!—I +wish——"</p> + +<p>"What dost wish, honest youth?" said a tall, heavy-eyed, +beetle-browed, swarthy personage, who poked his face round +from behind, close to that of the unfortunate artist, with +great freedom and familiarity.</p> + +<p>"I wish thou hadst better manners, or wast i' the stocks, +where every prying, impertinent should be," replied Conrad, +being in no very placable humour with his morning's work. +The stranger laughed, not at all abashed by this ill-mannered, +testy rebuke, replying good-humouredly,</p> + +<p>"Ah, ah! master canvass-spoiler. Wherefore so hasty +this morning? My legs befit not the gyves any more than +thine own. But many a man thrusts his favours where +they be more rare than welcome. I would do thee a service."</p> + +<p>"'Tis the hangman's, then; for that seems the only favour +that befits my condition."</p> + +<p>"Thou art cynical, bitter at thy disappointment. Let us +discourse together hard by. A flask of good Rhenish will +soften and assuage thy humours. A drop of <i>Kirchenwasser</i>, +too, might not be taken amiss this chill morning."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nothing loth, Conrad followed the stranger, and they +were soon imbibing some excellent <i>vin du pays</i> in a neighbouring +tavern.</p> + +<p>"Conrad Bergmann," began the stranger. "Ay, thou art +surprised; but I know more than thy name. Wilt that I do +thee a good office?"</p> + +<p>"Not the least objection, friend, if the price be within +reach. Nothing pay, nothing have, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"The price? Nothing! At least nothing thou need care +for. Thou art thirsting for fame, riches, for the honours +of this world, for—for—the hand—the heart of thy +beloved."</p> + +<p>Amongst the rest of Conrad's calamities, he had the misfortune +to be in love.</p> + +<p>"Thou art mighty fluent with thy guesses," replied he, +not at all relishing these unpleasant truths; "and what if I +am doomed to pine after the good I can never attain? I +will bear my miseries, if not without repining, at least +without thy pity:" and he arose to depart.</p> + +<p>"All that thou pinest after is thine. All!" said the +stranger.</p> + +<p>"Mine! by what process?—whose the gift?—Ha, ha!" +and he drained the brimming glass, waiting a solution of +his interrogatory.</p> + +<p>"I will be thy instructor. Behold the renowned Doctor +Gabriel Ras Mousa, who hath studied all arts and sciences +in the world, who hath unveiled Nature in her most secret +operations, and can make her submissive as a menial to his +will. In a period incredibly short, I engage to make thee +the most renowned painter in Christendom."</p> + +<p>"And the time requisite to perform this?"</p> + +<p>"One month! Ay, by the wand of Hermes, in one month, +under my teaching, shalt thou have thy desire. I watched +thy bargain with the dealer yonder, and have had pity on thy +youth and misfortunes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Humph—compassion! And the price?" again inquired +Conrad, with an anxious yet somewhat dubious expression of +tone.</p> + +<p>"The price? Once every month shalt thou paint me a +picture."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"All."</p> + +<p>Now Conrad began to indulge some pleasant fancies. +Dreams of hope and ambition hovered about him; but he +soon grew gloomy and desponding as heretofore. He waxed +incredulous.</p> + +<p>"One month? Nothing less, than a miracle! The time is +too short. Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"That is my business. I have both the will and the +power. Is it a bargain?"</p> + +<p>Conrad again drained the cup, and things looked brighter. +He felt invigorated. His courage came afresh, and he answered +firmly,</p> + +<p>"A bargain."</p> + +<p>"Give me thy hand."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mein Herr—not so hard. Thy gripe is like a smithy +vice."</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon of thy tender extremities. To-morrow then, +at this hour, we begin." Immediately after which intimation +the stranger departed.</p> + +<p>Conrad returned to his own dwelling. He felt restless, +uneasy. Apprehensions of coming evil haunted him. Night +was tenfold more appalling. Horrid visions kept him in +continual alarm.</p> + +<p>He arose feverish and unrefreshed. Yesterday's bargain +did not appear so pleasant in his eyes; but fear gave way +apace, and ere the appointed hour he was in his little work-room, +where the mysterious instructor found him in anxious +expectation. He drew the requisite materials from under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +his cloak, a well-primed canvass already prepared. The +pallet was covered, and Conrad sat down to obey his master's +directions.</p> + +<p>"What shall be our subject?" inquired the pupil.</p> + +<p>"A head. Proceed."</p> + +<p>"A female?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But follow my instructions implicitly."</p> + +<p>Conrad chalked out the outline. It was feebly, incorrectly +drawn; but the stranger took his crayon, and by a few +spirited touches gave life, vigour, and expression to the +whole. Conrad was in despair.</p> + +<p>"O that it were in my power to have done this!" he +cried, putting one hand on his brow, and looking at the picture +as though he would have devoured it.</p> + +<p>"Now for colour," said the stranger; and he carefully +directed his pupil how to lay in the ground, to mingle and +contrast the different tints, in a manner so far superior to +his former process, that Conrad soon began to feel a glow of +enthusiasm. His fervour increased, the latent spark of +genius was kindled. In short, the unknown seemed to have +imbued him with some hitherto unfelt attributes,—invested +him either with new powers, or awakened his hitherto +dormant faculties. As before, by a few touches, the crude, +spiritless mass became living and breathing under the master's +hand. Not many hours elapsed ere a pretty head, +respectably executed, appeared on the canvass. Conrad was +in high spirits.</p> + +<p>He felt a new sense, a new faculty, as it were, created +within him. He worked industriously. Every hour seemed +to condense the labour and experience of years. He made +prodigious advances. His master came daily at the same +time, and at length his term of instruction drew to a close. +The last morning of the month arrived; and Conrad, unknown +to his neighbours, had attained to the highest rank +in his profession. His paintings, all executed under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +immediate superintendence of the stranger, were splendid +specimens of art.</p> + +<hr style="width: 33%;" /> + +<p>In the year——, all Paris was moved with the extraordinary +performances of a young artist, whose portraits +were the most wonderful, and his miniatures the most exquisite, +that eyes ever beheld. They looked absolutely as though +endowed with life, real flesh and blood to all appearance; +and happy were those who could get a painting from his +hand. The price was enormous, and the marvellous facility +with which they were dispatched was not the least extraordinary +part of the business. There was a mystery too, +about him, provokingly delightful, especially to the female +portion of the community. In place of living in a gay +and fashionable part of the city, his lodging was in a miserable +garret, overlooking one of the gloomiest streets of the +metropolis. His manners, too, were forbidding and reserved. +Instead of exhibiting the natural buoyancy of his years, he +looked care-worn and dejected; nor was he ever known to +smile.</p> + +<p>After a period, whispers got abroad that several of his female +subjects came to strange and untimely deaths. They were +seized with some dangerous malady, accompanied by frightful +delusions. In general, they fancied themselves possessed. +Wailings, shrieks, and horrible blasphemies proceeded from +the lips of the sufferers. These reports were doubtless exaggerated, +the marvellous being a prodigiously accumulative +and inventive faculty; yet enough remained, apparently +authentic, to justify the most unfavourable suspicions.</p> + +<p>About this time a young Italian lady, of a noble house, +arrived on a visit to her brother in the suite of the Florentine +embassy. This princely dame, possessed of great +wealth and beauty, was not long unprovided with lovers; +one especially, a handsome official in the royal household,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +De Vessey by name, and as gallant a cavalier as ever lady +looked upon. But her term of absence being nigh expired, +the lovers were in great perplexity; and nothing seemed so +likely to contribute to their comfort, during such unavoidable +separation, as a miniature portrait of each from the hands of +this inimitable painter. Leonora sat first, and the lover +was in raptures. Hour by hour he watched the progress +of his work, in a little gloomy chamber, where the artist, +like some automaton fixture, was always found in the same +place, occupied too, as it might seem, without intermission.</p> + +<p>"The gaze of that strange painter distresses me inexpressibly," +said Leonora to her companion, as they went for +the last time to his apartment. "I have borne it hitherto +without a murmur, but words cannot describe the reluctance +with which I endure his glance; yet while I feel as though +my very soul abhorred it, it penetrates, nay, drinks up and +withers my spirit. Though I shrink from it, some influence +or fascination, call it as thou wilt, prevents escape; I cannot +turn away my eyes from his terrible gaze."</p> + +<p>"Thou art fanciful, my love," said De Vessey; "the near +prospect of our parting makes thee apt to indulge these +gloomy impressions. Be of good cheer; nothing shall harm +thee in my presence. 'Tis the last sitting; put on a well-favoured +aspect, I beseech thee. Remember, this portraiture +will be my only solace during the long, long hours of +thine absence."</p> + +<p>As they entered the artist's chamber, the picture lay before +him, which he seemed to contemplate with such absorbing +intensity, that he was hardly aware of their entrance. +He did not weep, but grief and pity were strangely +mingled in his glance. It was but for a moment; he quickly +resumed his usual attitude and expression. Whether the +previous conversation had made her lover liable to take the +tone and character of her own thoughts, we know not; but, +for the first time, he fancied Leonora's apprehensions were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +not entirely without excuse. He looked on the artist, and +it excited almost a thrill of apprehension. But speedily +chiding himself for these untoward fancies, he felt that +little was apparent, either in look or manner, but what the +painter's peculiar and unexampled genius might sufficiently +explain.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his attention was riveted on the lady. He +saw her lips quiver and turn pale, as though she would +have swooned. In a moment he was at her side. The support +seemed to reanimate the fainting maiden, her head +drooping on his shoulder. Almost gasping for utterance, +she whispered, "Take me hence, I want breath,—air, air!" +De Vessey lifted her in his arms, and bore her forth into the +open door-way. Trembling, shuddering, and looking round, +the first words she uttered were,—</p> + +<p>"We are watched,—by some unseen being in yonder +chamber, I am persuaded. Didst not mark an antique, +dismal-looking ebony cabinet, immediately behind the +painter?"</p> + +<p>"I did, and admired its exquisite workmanship, as though +wrought by some cunning hand."</p> + +<p>"As I fixed my eyes on those little traceries, it might be +fancy, but methought I saw the bright flash of a human +eye gazing on me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my Leonora, indulge not these gloomy impressions. +Throw off thy wayward fancies. 'Tis but the reflex image +the mind mistakes for outward realities. When disordered, +she discerns not the substance from the shadow. Thou art +well-nigh recovered. Come, come, let us in. To-day is the +last of our task; prithee take courage and return."</p> + +<p>"On one condition only; if thou take the chair first, and +note well an open scroll to the right, where those fawns and +satyrs are carved."</p> + +<p>"Agreed. And now shake off thy fears, my love."</p> + +<p>De Vessey led her again to the apartment, and, as though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +without consideration, sat down, his face directly towards +the cabinet. He fixed his eyes thereon a few seconds only, +when Leonora saw him start up suddenly with a troubled +aspect, and grasp the hilt of his sword. Then turning to the +painter, he said sternly,—</p> + +<p>"So!—We have intruders here, I trow."</p> + +<p>"Intruders? None!" was the artist's reply, without betraying +either surprise or alarm.</p> + +<p>"That we'll see presently," said the cavalier, hastening +to the cabinet; which, with hearty good will, he essayed to +open.</p> + +<p>"Why this outrage?" inquired the painter, colouring +with a hectic flush.</p> + +<p>"Because 'tis my good pleasure," was the haughty reply. +The door resisted his utmost efforts. "Doubtless held by +some one within. Open, or by this good sword I'll make a +passage through both door and carcase."</p> + +<p>The hinges slowly gave way, the folding doors swung +open, and displayed a grinning skeleton!</p> + +<p>"Ah! what lodger is this?"</p> + +<p>"Mine art requires it," said the painter with a ghastly +smile; but in that smile was an expression so fearful, yet +mysterious, that even De Vessey quailed before it. Another +miniature portrait, a precise copy of the one in hand, hung +from the neck of the skeleton.</p> + +<p>Leonora, with a loud shriek, covered her face; but the +lover, though far from satisfied himself, strove to assure his +mistress, and besought her not to indulge any apprehension.</p> + +<p>"You are disturbed, lady," said the artist. "'Tis but a +harmless piece of earth, a mouldering fabric of dust, a thing, +a form we must all one day assume. But to-morrow, to-morrow, +if you will, we resume our work."</p> + +<p>Leonora, relieved by the intimation, gladly consented, fain, +for a while, to escape from this terrible chamber.</p> + +<p>"Nought living was there, of a truth," said the cavalier,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +in evident perplexity, as they regained their coach. "But +I saw plain enough, or imagination played me the prank, a +semblance of a bright and flashing eye on the spot pointed +out. Something incomprehensible hangs about the whole!"</p> + +<p>Leonora agreed in this conclusion, expressing a fear lest +harm should happen to themselves thereby. They were not +ignorant of the whispers afloat, but hitherto treated them +either with ridicule or indifference. Suspicion, however, +once awake, mystery once apprehended, every circumstance, +even the most trivial, is seized upon, the mind bending all +to one grand object which haunts and excites the imagination.</p> + +<p>Having left his companion at her brother's dwelling, De +Vessey came to his own, moody and dispirited. A vague +sense of some grievous but impending misfortune hung +heavily upon him. Night brought no mitigation of his +fears. Spectres, skeletons, and demon-painters haunted his +slumbers. He awoke in greater torment than ever. The +duplicate portrait was brought to his remembrance with a +vividness, an intensity so appalling, that he almost expected +to behold the skeleton wearer at his bedside.</p> + +<p>Involved in a labyrinth of inextricable surmises, and not +knowing what course to pursue, he arose early, and walked +forth without aim or design towards the church of Notre +Dame.</p> + +<p>The red sun was just bursting through a thick atmosphere +of mist, illuminating its two dark western towers, +which looked even more gloomy under a bright and glowing +sky, like melancholy in immediate contrast with hilarity +and joy.</p> + +<p>He passed the Morgue, or dead-house, where bodies found +in the Seine are exposed, in order that they may be owned +or recognised. Impelled by curiosity, he entered. One space +alone was occupied. He could not surely be deceived when +he saw the body of the unfortunate painter! Those features<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +were too well remembered to be mistaken. Here was new +ground for conjecture, fresh wonder and perplexity. He +left this melancholy exhibition and entered the cathedral. +Mass was celebrating at one of the altars. De Vessey +joined in adoration, strolling away afterwards towards the +vaults: one of them was open. From some vague, unaccountable +impulse, he thus accosted the sexton:</p> + +<p>"Whose grave is this, friend?"</p> + +<p>"A maid's—mayhap."</p> + +<p>"Her name?"</p> + +<p>"The only remaining descendant of the Barons Montargis."</p> + +<p>"I have some knowledge of that noble gentlewoman; she +was just about to be married. What might be the nature of +her malady?"</p> + +<p>"Why, verily there be as many guesses as opinions. The +doctors were all at fault, and, 'tis said, even now in great +dispute. The king's physician tried hard to save her. Old +Frère Jeronymo, the confessor, will have it she was possessed; +but all his fumigations, exorcisms, paters, and holy +water could not cast out the foul fiend. She died raving +mad!"</p> + +<p>"A miserable portion for one so young and high-born. +Was there no visible cause?"</p> + +<p>"Cause!—Ay, marry; if common gossip be not an +arrant jade. Her portrait had been taken by that same +limner who, they say, has been taught in the devil's school, +and can dispatch a likeness with the twirl of his brush."</p> + +<p>"And what of that?" cried De Vessey, in an agony of +impatience.</p> + +<p>"Why, the same fate has happened to several of our city +dames. That is all."</p> + +<p>"What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"They have gone mad, and either felt, or fancied, some +demon had gotten them in keeping. For my part, I pretend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +not to a knowledge of the matter. But you seem strangely +moved, methinks."</p> + +<p>The cavalier was nigh choking with emotion. Sick at +heart, and with a fearful presentiment of impending evil, he +turned suddenly away.</p> + +<p>His next visit, as may be supposed, was to his mistress. +He found her in great agitation. The portrait had been +sent home the preceding night, and, completely finished, +lay before her,—an exquisite, nay marvellous, specimen of +art. She was gazing on her own radiant counterpart as he +entered. They both agreed that something more than ordinary +ran through the whole proceedings, though unable to +comprehend their meaning. De Vessey related his discovery +in the Morgue, but not his subsequent interview with the +sexton.</p> + +<p>Ere night, Leonora was seized with a strange and frightful +disease. Symptoms of insanity were soon developed. +She uttered fearful cries; calling on the painter in language +wild and incoherent, but of terrific import.</p> + +<p>The lover was at his wits' end. He vowed to spare no +efforts to save her, though scarcely knowing what course +to pursue, or in what quarter to apply for help.</p> + +<p>His first care was to seek the dwelling of a certain renowned +doctor, a German, whose extraordinary cures and +mode of treatment had won for him great wealth and +reputation. Though by some accounted a quack and impostor, +nevertheless De Vessey hoped, as a last resource, +so cunning a physician might be able to point at once the +source and cure of this occult malady.</p> + +<p>Doctor Hermann Sichel lived in one of those high, antique, +dreary looking habitations, now pulled down, situate in the +Rue d'Enfer. A common staircase conducted to several +suites of apartments, tenanted by various occupants, and at +the very summit dwelt this exalted personage.</p> + +<p>A pull at the ponderous bell-handle gave notice of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +De Vessey's approach, when, after due deliberation, it might +seem, and a long trial to the impatient querent, a little +wicket was cautiously slid back, behind a grating in the +door. A face, partially exhibited, demanded his errand.</p> + +<p>"Thy master, knave!"</p> + +<p>"He is in the very entrails of a sublime study. Not for +my beard, grey though it be, dare I break in upon him."</p> + +<p>"Mine errand is urgent," said De Vessey; "and, look +thee, say a noble cavalier hath great need of succour at his +hands."</p> + +<p>"Grammercy, sir cavalier, and hath not everybody an +errand of like moment?—thy business, peradventure, less +urgent than fifty others whose suit I have denied this +blessed day. I tell thee, my master may not be disturbed!"</p> + +<p>De Vessey held up a coin, temptingly, before the grating. +It would not go through, and the crusty Cerberus gently +undid a marvellous array of chains, bars, and other ingenious +devices, opening a slit wide enough for its insertion.</p> + +<p>"Wider! thou trusty keeper," said the artful suitor +outside. "I cannot fly though a key-hole!"</p> + +<p>A hand was carefully protruded. The cavalier, espying +his opportunity, thrust first his sword, afterwards himself, +through the aperture, in spite of curses and entreaties from +the greedy porter. He was immediately within a dark +entrance or vestibule; the astonished and angry menial +venting his wrath, in no measured phrases, on the intruder. +De Vessey, in a peremptory tone, demanded to be led forthwith +into the doctor's presence. The old man delayed for +awhile, almost speechless from several causes. His breath +was nigh spent. Wrath on the one hand, fear of his +master's displeasure on the other, kept him, like antagonist +forces, perpetually midway between both.</p> + +<p>"Lead the way, knave, or, by the beard of St. Louis, I'll +seek him through the house! Quick! thou hast legs; if +not, speak! mine errand is urgent, and will not wait."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> + +<p>A stout and determined cavalier, with a strong gripe, and +a sword none of the shortest, was not to be trifled with; +and, after many expostulations, warnings, threats, had failed +of their effect, he at length doggedly consented.</p> + +<p>"Thou wilt give me the coin, then, sir cavalier?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, when thou hast earned it. Away!"</p> + +<p>Passing through a narrow passage, lighted from above, +his conductor paused before a curiously carved oaken door, +at which three taps announced a message.</p> + +<p>"Now enter, and pray for us both a safe deliverance. +But, prithee, tell him it was not my fault thou hast gotten +admission."</p> + +<p>The door slowly opened, as though without an effort, and +De Vessey was immediately in the presence of the physician, +evidently to the surprise of the learned doctor himself, who +angrily demanded his business and the ground of his +intrusion.</p> + +<p>"Mine hour is not yet come, young man. Wherefore +shouldest thou, either by stratagem or force, thrust thyself, +unbidden, into our presence?"</p> + +<p>"To buy or beg thine aid, if it be possible. The case +admits not of delay. I crave thy pardon, most reverend +doctor, if that content thee; and, rest assured, no largess, +no reward shall be too great, if thou restore one, I fear me, +beyond earthly aid."</p> + +<p>"Thus am I ever solicited," replied the sage, with a +portentous scowl. He was clad in a gown of dark stuff, +with slippers to match; his poll surmounted by a small +black velvet skull-cap, from which his white, intensely +white, hair escaped in great profusion. His visage was +not swarthy, but of a leaden, pale complexion, where little +could be discerned of the wondrous microcosm within. +Books, and manuscripts of ancient form and character, emblazoned +in quaint and mystic devices, lay open on a long +oak table, on which rested one elbow of the wise man; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +other was thrown over an arm of the high-backed chair +whereon he sat. The room contained plenty of litter in the +shape of phials, boxes, and other strange furniture. A +cupola furnace was just heated, the doctor, apparently, +concocting some subtle compound.</p> + +<p>"I am expected to wrest these helpless mortals even from +the ravening jaws of the grave! My skill never tried +until beyond other aid!"</p> + +<p>"But this disorder is of a sudden emergency. A lady of +high birth and lineage, a few hours since, was seized with a +raging frenzy."</p> + +<p>"A female, then!"</p> + +<p>"Ay, and of such sweet temper and excellent parts, there +be none to match with her, body or mind, in Christendom."</p> + +<p>"When did this malady attack her?"</p> + +<p>"Almost immediately after a portrait, made by the +celebrated painter, was finished. Of him thou hast, doubtless, +heard."</p> + +<p>"The painter!—Ay!—There be more than thou have +rued his skill. Young man, thy pretty one is lost."</p> + +<p>"Lost! Oh, say not so! I will give thee thine utmost +desire—riches—wealth thou hast never possessed, if thou +restore her!"</p> + +<p>"She is beyond my skill. Hast visited him since?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen him. She is the last victim, if such be her +fate. This very morning, betimes, I saw his body in the +Morgue."</p> + +<p>"They have found him, then!" said the doctor, sharply. +"Yet our bodies are but exuviæ. When cast off, this +thinking, sentient principle within has another tabernacle +assigned to it, until the great consummation of all things. +But these are fables, idle tales, to the unlearned. Nevertheless, +I pity thy cruel fate, and, if aid can be afforded, will +call another to thine help. Hence! Thou shalt hear from +me anon."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And without loss of time; for every moment, methinks, +our succour may come too late."</p> + +<p>"I will forthwith seek out one whom I have heretofore +taken knowledge of. Every science has its votaries,—its +adepts; and this evil case hath its remedy only by those +skilled in arts called, however falsely, supernatural. Even +now, there be intelligences around us, which the corporeal +eye seeth not, nor can see, unless purged from the dross, the +fumes of mortality. Some, peradventure, by long and patient +study, have arrived on the very borders, the confines +that separate visible from invisible things; and become, as +it were, the medium of intercourse for mortals, who are, by +this means, mightily aided in matters beyond ordinary research. +Put thine ear to this shell. Mark its voice, like +the sound of many waters. Are not these the invisible +source, the essence of its being? Has not every thing in +like manner, even the most inanimate, a tongue, a language, +peculiar to itself—a soul, a spirit, pervading its form, which +moulds and fashions every substance according to its own +nature? Now, this voice thou canst not interpret, being +unskilled; knowing not the languages peculiar to every +form and modification of matter. Else would this beautiful +type of the ever-rolling sea discourse marvellously to thine +ear. But thou hast not the key to unclose its mystic +tongue; hence, like any other unknown speech, 'tis but a +confused jumble of unmeaning sound. I have little more +knowledge than thyself, but there be those who can interpret. +Vain man—presumptuous, ignorant—scoffs at knowledge +beyond his reach, and thinks his own dim, nay +darkened reason, glimmering as in a dungeon, the narrow +horizon that circumscribes his vision, the utmost boundary +of all knowledge and existence, while, beyond, lies the infinite +and unknown, utterly transcending his capacity and +comprehension."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> + +<p>De Vessey drank up every word of this harangue; and +something akin to hope rose in his bosom, as he withdrew.</p> + +<p>"Thou wilt have a message ere nightfall. An awful trial +awaits thee ere the spell can be countervailed."</p> + +<p>The cavalier withdrew, suffering many wistful remarks +from the old door-keeper, who marvelled greatly at the +interview so graciously conceded by his master; while at +the same time holding out his palm for the promised largess.</p> + +<p>De Vessey waited impatiently at his own dwelling for the +expected message. Evening drew on, dark and stormy. +The wind roared along the narrow streets in sharp and +irregular gusts; while, pacing his chamber in an agony of +suspense, he fancied every sound betokened the approaching +communication. At length, when expectation was almost +weary, a louder rumbling was heard; a coach drew up at +the door; a hasty knock, and a heavy tramp; then footsteps +ascending the staircase. The door opened, and two <i>gens-d'armes</i> +entered.</p> + +<p>"We have authority and instructions for the arrest of +one Sigismund de Vessey, on a charge of murder, made this +day by deposition before the Mayor and Prefecture of the +Ville de Paris. The individual so named, we apprehend, is +before us."</p> + +<p>"The same; though assuredly there is some mistake. +Of whose death am I accused?"</p> + +<p>"Of one Conrad Bergmann, a painter, whose body, last +night thrown into the Seine, was to-day exposed in the +Morgue. The rest will be explained anon."</p> + +<p>"But an engagement, one too of a most important nature, +demands my presence."</p> + +<p>"No discretion is allowed us in this matter. The carriage +waits."</p> + +<p>However reluctant, De Vessey was forced to obey. +Though confident of a speedy release, this arrest at so +important a juncture was provoking enough. Leonora's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> +recovery might probably depend on his exertions for the +next few hours, which were now suddenly wrested from +him.</p> + +<p>Leaving word that he would shortly return, the cavalier +stept into the vehicle, which immediately drove off.</p> + +<p>In a little space the coach stopped, and De Vessey was +invited to alight. He was led up a narrow staircase; a +door flew open. He entered. Could it be; surely imagination +betrayed his senses! He could scarcely believe himself +once more in the apartment of the painter! Yet there +was no mistaking what he saw. The ebony cabinet, the +easel, table, chair, all left as he saw them yesterday. But +the living occupants were strangely diverse. Two or three +functionaries of the civil power, and, in one corner, a black +cloth, spread on the floor, concealed some unknown object. +The whole was lighted by a feeble lamp from the ceiling. +A dusky haze from the damp foggy atmosphere rendered +objects ill-defined, indistinct, almost terrific to an excited +imagination. In addition to the usual articles of furniture, +was a desk, with writing materials, at which one of the +officers of justice appeared dictating something to his +secretary.</p> + +<p>On De Vessey's entrance, the scribe made some minute +preparatory to his examination, which commenced as follows:</p> + +<p>"Sigismund de Vessey?"</p> + +<p>"The same."</p> + +<p>"Being accused upon oath before us of murder, thou art +brought hither to confront thine accusers, and to answer +this heinous charge. First, let the body be produced."</p> + +<p>The cloth was removed, and De Vessey beheld the corpse +lying on a mattress.</p> + +<p>"Knowest thou this body?"</p> + +<p>"I do," said the cavalier firmly.</p> + +<p>"When was he seen by thee alive, the last time?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday, about noon."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"In this chamber."</p> + +<p>"Not since?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but not living."</p> + +<p>"Dead, sayest thou?"</p> + +<p>"This morning in the Morgue."</p> + +<p>"Not previously?"</p> + +<p>"I have not. But pray to what purport this examination?"</p> + +<p>"This will appear presently. When taken out of the +river, marks were found upon the throat, as though from +strangulation. Knowest thou aught of these?"</p> + +<p>"I do not," said the accused indignantly.</p> + +<p>This answer being written down, the examination was +resumed.</p> + +<p>"We have testimony that the unfortunate victim and +thyself were seen together about midnight; and, further, a +short but violent struggle was heard, and a heavy plunge; +afterwards an individual, with whom thou art identified, +was seen departing in great haste, and entering the house +well known as thy residence in the Rue de——"</p> + +<p>"A most foul and wicked fabrication, for purposes of +which as yet I am ignorant. Of such charges I hardly need +affirm that I am innocent."</p> + +<p>"Let the accuser stand forth."</p> + +<p>To the surprise and horror of De Vessey, there appeared +from a recess the German doctor, Hermann Sichel, who, +without flinching, recapitulated the foregoing accusation. +Moreover, he swore in the most positive terms to his identity, +and that not a doubt rested on his mind but De Vessey +was the murderer.</p> + +<p>"In this very apartment," said the witness, "he, De +Vessey, drew his sword upon the painter yesterday, doubtless +either from grudge or jealousy; being enamoured of a +fair Italian dame, Leonora da Rimini."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Most abominable of liars!" said the accused, eyeing him +with a furious look. "How darest thou, to my face, bring +this foul accusation. Thou shalt answer for it with thy +blood!"</p> + +<p>"Hear him! What need of further testimony? His own +betrayed him," said the doctor, with unblushing effrontery.</p> + +<p>"We have other witness thou wilt not dare to gainsay," +said the presiding officer. "This learned person is amply +corroborated by evidence that must effectually silence all +denial. He hath referred us to her who was present, Leonora +da Rimini."</p> + +<p>"Leonora! what, my own—my betrothed? She my +accuser?"</p> + +<p>"Spare thy speech and listen. We could not bring the +maiden hither, insomuch the nature of her malady admits +not of removal: but her evidence and accusation are duly +attested, taken at her own request, not many hours ago. +The substance of her deposition is as follows: a confession +to her of thine intention to murder Conrad Bergmann, the +artist aforesaid, being jealous of his attentions; and furthermore, +in the agony of guilt, thou didst confess in her presence, +having first strangled, and afterwards thrown him +into the river, hoping thereby to conceal thy crime; then +forcing her to swear she would keep the matter secret, and +threatening her life in case it were divulged. This outrage, +and this alone, hath nigh driven her frantic; her life being +in jeopardy from thy violence. What sayest thou, Sigismund +de Vessey?"</p> + +<p>"A lie, most foul and audacious! trumped up by that +impostor! Leonora? Impossible. I would not believe +though it were from her own lips. Some demon hath possessed +her. This disorder is more than common madness."</p> + +<p>He looked around. The whole was like the phantasma +of some terrible dream. Bewildered, and hardly knowing +what course to pursue, in vain he attempted to shake the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +testimony of the hoary villain before him; and having at +present none other means of rebutting the accusation, he +was ordered into close custody until the morrow.</p> + +<p>Utterly unprepared with evidence, he knew not where +to apply. That he was the victim of some foul plot, so far +appeared certain; but for what purpose, and at whose instigation, +was inexplicable.</p> + +<p>Ere an hour had elapsed, De Vessey found himself in one +of the cells of a public dungeon, with ample leisure to form +plans for proving his innocence. He determined early on +the morrow to acquaint his friends, and employ a celebrated +advocate to expose this villanous doctor, who no doubt had +designs either on his purse or person.</p> + +<p>In a while, the prisoner fell asleep from fatigue and +exhaustion. He was awakened by a sudden glare across +his eyelids. At first, imagining he was under the influence +of some extravagant dream, he made little effort to arouse +himself. A figure stood beside the couch; a lamp lifted +above his head. A friar's cowl concealed his features; his +person too was enveloped in a coarse garment, with a huge +rosary at his girdle.</p> + +<p>"Mortal, awake and listen," said the unknown visitor, +"Art weary of life, or does this present world content thee?"</p> + +<p>"Who art thou?" said De Vessey, scarcely raising himself +from the pallet.</p> + +<p>"I am thy friend, thy deliverer an' thou wilt."</p> + +<p>"Thanks!" said the knight, springing from his recumbent +posture.</p> + +<p>"Stay!" replied the intruder, "there be conditions ere +thou pass hence. Miserable offspring of Adam, ye still +cling to your prison and your clay. Wherefore shrink from +the separation, afraid to shake off your bonds, your loathsome +carcase, and spring forth at once to life? Art thou +prepared to fulfil one—but one condition for thy release?"</p> + +<p>"Name it! Manifest my innocence; and if it be gold,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +thou shalt have thy desire. No hired advocate ere yet held +such a fee!"</p> + +<p>"Keep thy gold for baser uses; it buyeth not my benefits. +But remember, thy life is not worth a week's purchase, +neither is thy mistress' forsooth, shouldest thou be +witless enough to refuse. An ignominious death, a base +exit for thyself,—for her, madness and a speedy grave. +One fate awaits ye both. Life and health, if thou consent +are yours."</p> + +<p>"Thou speakest riddles. It were vain trying to comprehend +their import. Name thy conditions. Aught, that +honour may purchase, will I give."</p> + +<p>The stranger threw back his cowl, displaying the features +of the renowned Doctor Hermann Sichel: a gleam of lurid +intelligence lighted his grim grey eyes, that might betoken +either insanity or excitement.</p> + +<p>Without reflecting for one moment on the hazard and +imprudence of his conduct, De Vessey immediately rushed +forward, grappled with his adversary, and threw him.</p> + +<p>"Now will I have deadly vengeance, fiend! Take +that!" said he, drawing forth a concealed poignard, and +thrusting with all his might. Scorn puckered the features +of the pretended monk. The weapon's point was driven +back, refusing to enter, as though his enemy held a charmed +existence.</p> + +<p>"Put back thy weapon; thou wilt have need of it elsewhere, +silly one."</p> + +<p>De Vessey was confounded at this unlooked-for result. +His foe seemed invulnerable, and he slunk back.</p> + +<p>"I forgive thee, poor fool! Put it back, I say. There—there—now +to work—time hastens, and there is little space +for parley."</p> + +<p>"What is thy will?"</p> + +<p>"Thy welfare, thy life; listen. Yonder unhappy wretch +I have loaden with benefits, rescued from poverty, disgrace,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +lifted him to the pinnacle of his ambition, the highest rank +in art. Base ingrate, he threatened to betray, to denounce, +and I crushed the reptile. He is now what thou shalt be +shortly, unless my power be put forth for thy rescue. Not +all the united efforts of man can deliver thee. Beyond +earthly aid, thou diest the death of a dog!"</p> + +<p>"Why dost thou accuse me of a crime, knowing that I +am innocent?"</p> + +<p>"To drive thee, helpless, into my power. Think not to +escape save on one condition."</p> + +<p>"Name it," said De Vessey.</p> + +<p>"Self-preservation is the great, the paramount law of our +nature; the most powerful impulse implanted in our being. +All, all obey this impulse; and who can control or forbid +its operation? Will not the most timid, the most scrupulous, +if no alternative be afforded, slay the adversary who +seeks his life; and does not the law both of earth and +heaven hold him guiltless? Thou art now denounced. +Innocent, thy life must be sacrificed. Thou diest, or +another; there is no choice."</p> + +<p>"But shall <i>I</i> murder the innocent."</p> + +<p>"And suppose it be. What thinkest thou? Two persons, +equally guiltless, one of them must die. Self-preservation +will prompt instinctively to action. Does not the +drowning man cling to his companion; nay, rescue himself +at the expense of another's life?"</p> + +<p>De Vessey felt bewildered, if not convinced. Need we +wonder if he yielded. Life or death. Honour, disgrace. +His mistress restored; his innocence proved. Life, with +him, had scarcely been tasted. A glorious career awaited +him; his lady-love smiling through the bright vista of the +future; and——the tempter prevailed!</p> + +<p>But who must be the victim? The appalling truth was +not then disclosed. De Vessey promised to obey.</p> + +<p>"But remember, no power, not even flight, can screen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +thee from my vengeance shouldst break thy vow. Take +warning by the painter; the poor fool but hesitated, and his +doom was swift as it was sure. Take this cowl and friar's +garment; I was admitted by the jailor for thy shrift. The +lamp will guide thee. Be bold, and fear not. I will remain; +to-morrow they will find out their mistake, but I +have other means of escape."</p> + +<p>"And Leonora. How shall she be recovered?"</p> + +<p>"That is a work of peril, and will need thine utmost +vigilance. Rememberest thou the skeleton?"</p> + +<p>"In the ebony cabinet?" inquired the cavalier, with a +cold shudder.</p> + +<p>"He hath her portrait, and will not lightly be persuaded +to give his prey. <i>Every month I am bound to furnish him +a bride!</i> My own life pays the forfeit of omission. +Leonora is the next victim, unless thou prevail, betrothed +to that grisly type of death!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, horrible! Mine the bride of a loathsome skeleton! +Of an atomy! A fiend! Monster, I will denounce thee. I +care not for my own life. Of what worth if torn from hers. +Wretch, give back my bride or——"</p> + +<p>"Spare these transports. I am now thine only friend. +Thou art now cut off from thy kin, shunned by mankind. +To whom then wilt thou turn for help? Mine thou art, for +ever!"</p> + +<p>De Vessey gasped for utterance.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," continued his tormentor, "I will direct +and help thee in this matter also. But 'tis a fearful venture. +Hast thou courage?"</p> + +<p>"If to rescue her, aught that human arm can achieve +shall be done."</p> + +<p>"He holds the portrait, I tell thee, with a steady gripe. +Those skeleton fingers will be hard to unloose."</p> + +<p>"I will break them, or perish. This good——"</p> + +<p>"Touch them not for thy life. Death, sure but lingering,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +awaits whomsoever they fasten upon. Take this key. It +will admit thee to the apartment. To-night the deed must +be accomplished, or to-morrow the maiden is beyond +succour."</p> + +<p>"And how is this charmed picture to be wrested from +him?"</p> + +<p>"An ebony wand lies at his feet; he will obey its touch. +But whatsoever thou seest, be nothing daunted, nor let any +silly terror scare thee from thy purpose. Now to thy task. +But keep these marvels to thyself. If thou whisper, ay to +the winds, our compact, thou art not safe."</p> + +<p>Soon De Vessey, enveloped in his disguise, found egress +without difficulty. Once outside the prison, he hurried on +scarcely giving himself time for reflection.</p> + +<p>The night was dark and stormy. Torches, distributed +about the streets, rocked and swung to and fro in their +sockets, the flames, with a strange and flickering glare, +giving an unnatural distorted appearance to objects within +reach; and, to some solitary individual, at this late hour +hurrying alone, the grim aspect of a demon or a spectre +to the disturbed imagination of the lover. His courage, at +times on the point of deserting him, revived, when he +remembered that another's life, dearer than his own, depended +on his exertions. The streets, almost deserted, +swam with continually accumulating torrents: but he felt +not that terrible tempest; the turmoil, the conflict within, +was louder than the roar and tumult of outward elements.</p> + +<p>Almost ere he was aware, he found himself opposite the +entrance of the painter's habitation; a shudder, like a +death-chill, shot through his frame. He applied his key. +A distant gleam, a dim lurid light, seemed to quiver before +him. He heard the quick jar, the withdrawing bolt, that +gave him admittance, as though it were a spectral voice +warning him to desist.</p> + +<p>The unknown dangers he anticipated, rendered more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +terrific by their vague indefinite character, were enough to +appal a stouter bosom. De Vessey would have faced and +defied earthly perils, but these were almost beyond his +fortitude to endure. Love, however, gave excitement, if +not courage, and he resolved either to succeed or perish in +the attempt. The stairs were partially illumined by an +uncertain glimmer from a narrow window into the street. +He felt his way, and every step sent the life-blood curdling +to his heart. He reached the topmost stair; laid one hand +on the latch. He listened; all was still, save the hollow +gusts that rumbled round the dwelling.</p> + +<p>With a feeling somewhat akin to desperation, he entered. +A lamp yet burning emitted a feeble glare, but was well-nigh +spent, giving a more dismal aspect to this lonely +chamber. It was apparently unoccupied. The chair, the +black funeral pall left by the officers of justice over the +pallet, the mysterious cabinet, the desk where the painter +usually sat, all remained undisturbed. De Vessey's attention +was more particularly directed towards the cabinet; +there alone, according to his instructions, were the means +of deliverance. A cold, clammy perspiration, a freezing +shiver, came upon him as he approached. He laid one +hand on the latch; it resisted as before. He tried force, +a loud groan was heard in the chamber. Every fibre of his +frame seemed to grow rigid; every limb stiffened with +horror, and he drew back.</p> + +<p>This was a sorry beginning to the adventure, and he +inwardly repented of his rashness. Looking round in extreme +agony, his eyes rested on the black pall. Could it be! +or was it from the expiring glimmer of the lamp? The +drapery appeared to move. Another, and a deeper groan! +De Vessey for a space was unable to move; but his courage +came apace, inasmuch as it was some relief, and a diversion +from the awful mysteries of that grim cabinet. He approached +the pallet hastily, throwing off the heavy coverlet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +The recumbent body was yet beneath, but convulsed, as +though struggling to free itself from an oppressive burden. +De Vessey watched, while his blood froze with terror. +Gradually these convulsive movements extended to the +features. The lips quivered, as though essaying to speak; +the eye-balls rolling rapidly under their lids. A slight +flush dawned upon the cheek; the hands were tightly +closed, and another groan preceded one desperate attempt +to throw off the load which prevented returning animation. +At length the eyes opened with a ghastly stare; but +evidently conveying no outward impression to the inward +sense. With a loud shriek the body started up: then, +uttering a wild and piercing cry, rolled on the floor, foaming, +and struggling for life as though with some powerful +adversary.</p> + +<p>"Save me! Save me!" was uttered in a tone so harrowing +and dreadful, more than mortal agony, that De Vessey +would have fled, but his limbs refused their office.</p> + +<p>"He strangles me! Fiend—have—have mercy! Wilt +thou not? Oh mercy, mercy Heaven!" His senses, though +evidently bewildered, resumed their functions. With a +glare of intense anguish he appeared as though supplicating +help and deliverance.</p> + +<p>"Who art thou?" was the first inquiry and symptom of +returning reason. "I know thee, De Vessey. But why +art thou here? Another victim. Yes, to torture me. +Where am I? In my own chamber! Oh—that horrid +cabinet! Yet—yet these cruel torments. Will they never +end?"</p> + +<p>De Vessey immediately perceived there was no delusion; +the mortal form of the artist was really before him. Terrible +though it were, yet it was a relief to have companionship +with his kind, a being of flesh and blood beside him. He +might now, peradventure, accomplish his task. Providence, +may be, had opened a way for his deliverance, and hope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +once more dawned on his spirit. He helped the miserable +artist to regain his couch, and sought to soothe him, beseeching +the helpless victim not to give way to frenzy, +doubtless resulting from his strange and emaciated condition. +A miracle or a spell had been wrought for his +resuscitation; but the events of the last few hours were +alike enigmas, beyond the common operations of nature to +explain.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday I attempted suicide," said the artist, "taking +poison to escape a life insupportable to me. Fain would I +have broken the chain which binds me to this miserable +existence. But yon tyrant hath given me a charmed life. +I cannot even die!"</p> + +<p>"Thy body was dragged from the Seine."</p> + +<p>"How?" inquired the artist with an incredulous look.</p> + +<p>"And exposed this morning in the Morgue," continued +De Vessey.</p> + +<p>"When will my sufferings cease? How have I prayed +for deliverance from this infernal thraldom."</p> + +<p>"Yon deceiver hath doubtless thrown thee into the river, +and supposing thou wert dead, he designs me to supply thy +place; to carry on the dark mystery of iniquity, a glimpse +of which hath already been revealed."</p> + +<p>"Would that I had been left to perish,—that my doom +were ended. Avarice, ambition! how enslaved are your +victims. How have I longed for my miserable cottage, +my poverty, my obscurity,—cold and pinching want, but +a quiet conscience to season my scanty meal. I bartered +all for gold, for fame and—misery! A cruel bondage! +compared to which I could envy the meanest thing that +crawls on this abject earth. In my trance, I dreamed of +green fields and babbling streams; of my brethren, my play-mates, +my days of innocence and sport, when all was freshness +and anticipation,—life one bright vista beyond, opening +to sunny regions of rapture and delight. And now,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> +what am I?—a wretch, degraded, undone,—a spectacle of +misery, beyond what human thought can conceive. Doomed +to years, ages it may be, of woe,—to scenes of horror such +as tongue ne'er told, and even imagination might scarce +endure, and my miseries but a foretaste of that hereafter!"</p> + +<p>Here the guilty victim writhed in a paroxysm of agony; +his veins swollen almost to bursting. Whether real or imaginary, +whether a victim to insanity, or of some supernatural +agent, its influence was not the less terrible in +its effects. Starting suddenly from his grovelling posture, +he cried, fixing his eyes on De Vessey with a searching +glance,—</p> + +<p>"What brings thee hither?"</p> + +<p>"Leonora is in jeopardy by your spells. I seek her deliverance."</p> + +<p>"She is beyond rescue. Leonora da Rimini is <span class="smcap">the skeleton's +bride</span>!"</p> + +<p>Here the painter threw such a repulsive glance towards +the cabinet, that the cavalier shrank back as though expecting +some grisly spectre from its portals; yet, himself +the subject of an extraordinary fascination, he could not +withdraw his gaze.</p> + +<p>"Fly, fly, or thou art lost! My tormentor will be here +anon,—I would have saved her, and he fixed his burning +gripe here, I feel it still; not a night passes that he comes +not hither. Away! shouldest thou meet him, thy doom is +fixed, and for ever. I would not that another fell into his +toils. Couldest thou know, ay, but as a whisper, the +secrets of this prison-house, thy spirit would melt, thy flesh +would shrink as though the hot wind of the desert had +passed over. What I have endured, and what I must endure, +are alike unutterable."</p> + +<p>"Thy keeper comes not to-night. He hath sent me to +this chamber of death instead. He knows not thou art +alive."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thee!—To—But I must not reveal; my tongue +cleaves to my mouth. Nay, nay, it cannot be; none but a +fiend could do his behest. Away! for thy life, away!"</p> + +<p>De Vessey related the events of the last few hours. The +artist ruminated awhile; then abruptly exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"He hath some diabolical design thereupon which I am +not yet able to fathom. That it is for thine undoing Sir +Knight, for thy misery here and hereafter, doubt not. Thou +hast promised, but not yet offered him a victim. Thus far +thou art safe; but he will pursue thee, and think not to +escape his vengeance. How to proceed is beyond my counsel. +Should midnight come, thou wouldest see horrors in +this chamber that might quail the stoutest heart. Thou +art bereft of life or reason if thou tarry."</p> + +<p>"I leave not without an attempt, even should I fail, to +wrench her, who is dearer to me than either, from that +demon's grasp. I will not hence alone."</p> + +<p>"Alas! I fear there is little hope; yet shall he not escape +yonder prison before to-morrow. Even his arts cannot +convey him through its walls; the magician's body, if +such he be, is subject to like impediments with our own. +This night, for good or ill, is thine."</p> + +<p>"To work, then, to work," said De Vessey, as though inspired +with new energy, "to the rescue, and by this good +cross," kissing the handle of his sword, "I defy ye!"</p> + +<p>By main force he attempted, and, in the end, tore open +the door of the cabinet. The grinning skeleton was before +him, the miniature in its grasp. A moment's pause. The +cavalier carefully surveyed his prize. Suspended by an +iron chain, the links entwined round its bony arm, rendered +the picture difficult, if not impossible, to detach without +touching the limbs. Gathering fresh courage from the +countenance and smile of his beloved, he snatched the portrait, +but the wearer was too tenacious of the charmed treasure, +and resisted his utmost efforts. He thought a savage,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +a malicious grin crept upon his features. A smile more +than usually hideous mocked him. From those hollow +sockets, too, or his imagination played strange antics, a faint +glare shot forth. A dizzy terror crept over him. His brain +reeled. His energies were becoming prostrate; and unless +one desperate attempt could be made, all hope of rescue +were past. He sought the ebony wand, but, forgetful or +incautious, laid hold of the chain which encircled the skeleton's +wrist. A bell answered to the pressure,—a deep +hollow reverberation, like a death-knell in his ear.</p> + +<p>"Hark! that iron tongue,—lost—lost! Oh! mercy, +mercy!" shrieked the death-painter, covering his eyes.</p> + +<p>At this moment, De Vessey heard a noise like the jarring +of bolts and hinges. Ere he was aware, the skeleton's arms +were fastened round him; the doors closed, the floor gave +way under his feet. He felt the pressure relaxing; he fell, +the hissing wind rushed in his ears. Stunned with his fall, +he lay for a while in the dark, scarcely able to move. It +was not long ere he was able to grope about. Rotting carcases +and bones met his touch—a noisome charnel-house +gorged with human bodies in all the various stages of decay. +His heart sickened with a fearful apprehension that he was +left to perish by a lingering death, like those around him. +Despair for the first time benumbed his faculties. His +courage gave way at the dreadful anticipation, and he +grasped the very carcase on which he trod for succour.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, a loud yell burst above him. A blaze of burning +timbers flashed forth,—crackling, they hissed, and fell +into the vault. Through an opening overhead, he saw the +skeleton seized by devouring flames. They twined, they +clung round it. Their forky tongues licked the bones that +appeared to writhe and crawl in living agony.</p> + +<p>Soon the chain, which held the portrait, gave way, and +it dropped at his feet unhurt. A shriek issued from the +flaming cabinet, and he saw the painter with a burning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +torch above. A maniac joy lighted up his features: he +shouted to De Vessey, and with frantic gestures beckoned +that he should escape.</p> + +<p>"If thou canst climb yonder stair," he cried, "before the +flames cut off thy retreat, thou art safe. See, Leonora is +already free. Haste—this way—there,—there, now leap—mind +thy footing, 'tis too frail, creep round, those rafters +are unbroken; another spring, and thou mayest reach them +in safety."</p> + +<p>The flames were close upon him. He was nigh suffocated. +A perilous attempt,—but, at length, he gained the +upper floor, and his deliverer exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"Thanks, thanks, he is safe! by this good hand, too, that +wrought your misery. Oh! that a life of penitence and +prayer might atone for my guilt. It was a thought inspired +by Heaven, prompted me to set on fire that insatiate demon, +to whom my task-master offered those wretched victims, and +every month a bride, on pain of his own destruction. What +might be the nature of that skeleton form, or their compact, +thou canst neither know nor understand. Even I, though +nightly witnessing horrors which have given to youth the +aspect and decrepitude of age, cannot explain. A connexion, +if not inseparable, yet intimate as body and soul, existed +between those demon-haunted bones, and yon monster +who sought, and accomplished my ruin. What I have seen +must not, cannot be told. My lips are for ever sealed. But +the flames are fast gaining on us. Let us hasten, ere they +prevent our retreat. The whole fabric will shortly be enveloped, +and every record of this diabolical confederacy consumed. +Go to thy lady-love. She is recovered, and, as one +newly awakened from some terrific dream. With the earliest +dawn hie thee to the prison lest <i>he</i> escape. Let him +be instantly secured. When summoned I will not fail, to +confront, to denounce the wretch. He cannot penetrate +yonder walls, save by fraud or strategem. How I have escaped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +death is one of the mysteries which time perchance +may never develope. One might fancy the cunning leech +who supplied the drug did play me false. Instead of poison +mayhap, one of those potions of which we have heard, +that so benumb and stupify the faculties, that for a space +they mimic death—nor can any thing rouse or recover +from its influence until the appointed time be past."</p> + +<p>They hurried away as he spoke. De Vessey could +scarcely wait until daylight. His first care was to secure +the old sorcerer. He sought aid from the police, and, as far +as might be, revealed the dreadful secret.</p> + +<p>An immediate visit was made to the cell. On entering, +its inmate was in bed,—a scorched, a blackened corpse!</p> + +<p>It may be supposed, the lover was not long in attending +on his mistress. She was free from disorder, and happily +unconscious of what had passed during the interval, save +that an ugly dream had troubled her. Nor was she aware +that more than one night had elapsed. In a few days afterwards, +De Vessey led her to the altar.</p> + +<p>The mystery was never fully penetrated. That imposture, +and partial insanity, might be involved, and have the +greatest share in its development, is beyond doubt; but +they cannot explain the whole of these diabolical proceedings. +That the powers of darkness may have power over +the bodies of wicked and abandoned men, cannot be denied.</p> + +<p>Whether this narration discloses another instance of such +mysterious agency, our readers must determine.</p> + +<p>What the painter knew, was buried in eternal silence. +The monks of La Trappe received a brother whose vows +were never broken!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE CRYSTAL GOBLET:</h2> + +<h4>A TALE OF THE EMPEROR SEVERUS.</h4> + + +<p>It was midnight,—yet a light was burning in a small chamber +situated in one of the narrowest and least frequented +streets of Eboracum,—then the metropolis of the world. +York at that period being the residence of the Emperor +Severus, his court and family were conveyed hither; and +the government of the world transferred to an obscure +island in the west: once the <i>ultima Thule</i> of civilization, +its native inhabitants hardly yet emerged from a state +of barbarism, and addicted to the most gross and revolting +superstitions.</p> + +<p>A lamp of coarse earthenware was fastened on a bronze +stand, having several beaks, and of a boat-like shape. Near +it stood the oil-vase for replenishing, almost empty,—while +the wicks, charred and heavy with exuviæ, looked as though +for sometime untrimmed. On the same table was a Greek +and a Coptick manuscript, an inkhorn, and the half of a +silver penny, the Roman <i>symbolum</i>. Breaking a piece of +money as a keepsake, between two friends, was, even at that +period, a very ancient custom. A brass rhombus, used by +magicians, lay on a <i>cathedra</i>, or easy chair, which stood as +though suddenly pushed aside by its occupier in rising +hastily from his studies. An iron chest was near, partly +open, wherein papers and parchments lay tumbled about in +apparent disorder. Vellum, so white and firm, as to curl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> +even with the warmth of the hand; purple skins emblazoned +in gold and silver, and many others, of rare workmanship, +were scattered about with unsparing profusion. It was +evidently the study, the <i>librarium</i> of some distinguished +person, and consisted of an inner chamber beyond the court, +having one window near the roof, and another opening into +a small garden behind. From the ceiling there hung a dried +ape, a lizard, and several uncouth, unintelligible reptiles, put +together in shapes that nature's most fantastic forms never +displayed. Vases of ointments, and unguents of strange +odours, stood in rows, upon a marble slab on one side of the +apartment. <i>Scrinia</i>, or caskets for the admission of rolls, +and writing materials were deposited on shelves, forming a +library of reference to the individual whose <i>sanctum</i> we are +now describing: It was, apparently, undisturbed by any +living occupant, save a huge raven, now roosting on a +wooden perch, his head buried under a glossy tissue of feathers, +and, to all appearance, immovable as the grinning and +hideous things that surrounded him. A magpie, confined in +a cage above the door, was taught to salute those who +entered, with the word "χαιρε," a Grecian custom, greatly in +vogue amongst the most opulent of the Romans.</p> + +<p>Ere long, there came a footstep,—and a gentle summons at +the door. The bird gave the usual response; and straightway +entered a stout muscular figure, wrapped in a <i>chlamys</i>, +fastened on the shoulder with a richly-embossed <i>fibula</i>. +Beneath, was the usual light leathern cuirass, covered with +scales of shining metal; the centre, over the abdomen, ornamented +with a gorgon's head, and other warlike devices; a +short sword, being stuck in his girdle. From the lowest +part hung leathern straps, or <i>lambrequins</i> highly wrought +and embellished. He wore breeches or drawers, reaching +to the knees, and his feet and the lower part of the leg were +covered with the <i>cothurnus</i>, a sort of traveller's half-boot. +A sumptuous mantle, made of leopard skin, was thrown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> +carelessly about his head, hardly concealing his features; for +the folds relaxing in some measure as he entered, showed a +youthful countenance; yet dark and ferocious, indicating a +character of daring and vindictive energy; and a disposition +where forgiveness or remorse rarely tempered the fiercer +passions. As he looked round, the raven raised his head on +a sudden, and peering at him with that curious and familiar +eye, so characteristic of the tribe, gave a loud and hollow +croak, which again arrested the notice of the intruder.</p> + +<p>"Most auspicious welcome truly, ill omened bird. Is thy +master visible?"</p> + +<p>There was no reply; and the inquirer, after a cautious +glance round the chamber, sat down, evidently disconcerted +by this unexpected reception. Scarcely seated, he felt the +clasp on his shoulder suddenly risen, as though by an intruder +from behind. Looking round, he saw the raven with +the bauble in his beak, hopping off with great alacrity to his +perch. The magpie set up a loud scream as though vexed +he was not a participator in the spoil. The owner, angry at +his loss, pursued the thief, who defied every attempt to regain +it; getting far above his reach; ever and anon the same +ominous croak sounding dismally through the gloom by +which he was concealed. Finding it fruitless, the stranger +gave up the pursuit, and again sat down, examining carelessly +the papers which lay open for perusal. But it might +seem these feathered guardians were entrusted with the care +of their master's chamber during his absence.</p> + +<p>"Beware!" said the same querulous voice, that before +accosted him. Looking up, he saw the magpie, his neck +stretched to the utmost through the bars of his cage, and in +the act of repeating the injunction.</p> + +<p>"'Tis an ill augur to my suit," he muttered hastily. +"Destiny!" Starting up at the word, which he spake aloud, +he clenched his hand.</p> + +<p>"The inexorable gods may decree, but would it not be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +worthy of my purpose to brave them; to render even fate +itself subservient to me!"</p> + +<p>He hurried to and fro across the chamber with an agitated +step. Suddenly he stood still, in the attitude of listening. +He drew the folds of his mantle closer about his head, when +by another entrance, there approached a tall majestic figure, +clad in dark vestments, who without speaking, came near +and stood before him. A veil of rich net-work fell gracefully +below his mantle, being in that era, the distinctive garb +of soothsayers and diviners. His hair, for he was an +Asiatic, was twisted in the shape of a mitre, investing his +form with every advantage from outward appearances.</p> + +<p>"I would know," said he, "by what right thou art at this +untimely hour, an intruder on my privacy?"</p> + +<p>"By a will, which even thou darest not disobey," was the +answer.</p> + +<p>"It is past midnight. Knowest thou of my long watching, +and the dark portents of the stars?"</p> + +<p>"Nay! But passing, I saw the door of the vestibule +partly open. The fates were propitious. I crossed the +court, intending to consult the most famous soothsayer in +the emperor's dominions."</p> + +<p>"Peradventure 'tis no accidental meeting. To-night I +have read the stars, the book of heaven. Comest thou not, +blind mortal at their bidding?"</p> + +<p>"I have neither skill nor knowledge in the art——,"</p> + +<p>The stranger hesitated, as though he had as lief the conversation +was resumed by the diviner himself.</p> + +<p>"Thy father. What of him?" said the Chaldean, with a +look, as though he had penetrated his inmost thoughts.</p> + +<p>"True, 'tis mine errand," said the intruder. "But the +event?"</p> + +<p>"The augury is not complete!"</p> + +<p>"Thine auguries are like my good fortune,—long in compassing. +The best augur I trow, is this good steel. I would +sooner trust it than the best thou canst bestow."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rash mortal. Impatience will be thy destruction.—Listen!"</p> + +<p>The raven hopped down upon his shoulder. A low +guttural sound appeared to come from this ill-omened bird. +The augur bent his ear. Sounds shaped themselves into +something like articulation, and the following couplet was +distinctly heard:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"While the eagle is in his nest, the eaglet shall not prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall the eagle be smitten in his eyrie."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Azor," said the warrior, clenching his sword, "these +three times hast thou mocked me, and by the immortal +gods thou diest!"</p> + +<p>"Impious one! I could strike thee powerless as the +dust thou treadest on. Give me the bauble," said he, +addressing the raven. The bird immediately gave the clasp +he had purloined into his master's hand.</p> + +<p>"This shall witness between us," continued he. "Dare +to lift thy hand, the very palace shall bear testimony to +thy treason—that thou hast sought me for purposes too +horrible even for thy tongue to utter. Hence. When least +expected I may meet thee. If it had not been for thy +mother's sake, and for my vow, the emperor ere this had +been privy to it."</p> + +<p>Stung with rage and disappointment, he put back his +weapon, and with threats and imprecations departed.</p> + +<p>On a couch inlaid with ivory and pearl, within a vaulted +chamber in the Prætorian Palace of the royal city, lay the +emperor, in a coverlid of rich stuff. Disease had crushed +his body, but the indomitable spirit was unquenched. +Tossing and disturbed, at length he started from his bed. +Calling to his chamberlain, he demanded if there had not +been footsteps in the apartment. The ruler of the world, +whose nod could shake the nations, and whose word was +the arbiter of life or death to millions of his fellow-men, +lay here—startled at the passing of a sound, the falling of +a shadow! His face, whose chief characteristic was power,—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +strength and determination of spirit which all acknowledge, +and but few comprehend—was furrowed with +deeper marks than care had wrought. Sixty years had +moulded the steady and inflexible purpose of his soul in +lines too palpable to be misunderstood. His beard was +short and grizzled; and a swarthy hue, betraying his +African birth, was now become sallow, and even sickly in +the extreme; but an eagle eye still beamed in all its fierceness +and rapacity from under his scanty brows. His nose +was not of the Roman sort, like the beak of that royal +bird, but thick and even clumsy, lacking that sharp and +predacious intellect generally associated with forms of this +description.</p> + +<p>Such was Septimus Severus, then styled on a coin just +struck, "<span class="smcap">Britannicvs Maximvs</span>," in commemoration of a +great victory gained over the Caledonians, whom he had +driven beyond Adrian's wall. Though suffering from severe +illness, he was carried in a horse-litter; and, marching +from York at the head of his troops, penetrated almost to +the extremity of the island, where he subdued that fierce +and intractable nation the Scots. Returning, he left his +son Caracalla to superintend the building of a stone wall +across the island, in place of the earthen ramparts called +Adrian's;—a structure, when completed, that effectually +resisted the inroads of those barbarians for a considerable +period.</p> + +<p>He called a third time to Virius Lupus, one, the most +confidential of his attendants, to whom many of the most +important secrets of the state were entrusted.</p> + +<p>"Thrice have I heard it Virius. Again, and again, it +seems to mock and elude my grasp." He paused: the +officer yet listening with becoming reverence. The Emperor +continued, more like one whose thoughts had taken +utterance, than as if he were addressing the individual +before him.</p> + +<p>"When I led the Pannonian legions to victory; when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +Rome opened her gates at my command; when I fought +my way through blood to the throne,—I quailed not then! +Now,—satiated with power, careless of fame, the prospects +of life closed, and for ever,—when all that is left for me to +do is to die,—behold, I tremble at the shaking of a leaf! +I start, even at the footstep that awakes me!"</p> + +<p>"Long live the Emperor!" said the cringing secretary. +Interrupting him, as he would have proceeded with the +customary adulations, the emperor again continued as +though hardly noticing his presence.</p> + +<p>"Caracalla yet remains with the army. Once I censured +the misguided clemency of Marcus, who, by an act of +justice might have prevented the miseries that his son +Caligula brought upon the empire; and yet I, even I," +said the haughty monarch, bitterly, "nourish the very +weakness that in others I despise!"</p> + +<p>He dashed away the sweat from his brow, ashamed of +the weakness he could not quell.</p> + +<p>"He hath sought your life," said the wily sycophant.</p> + +<p>"He hath!—Traitor! parricide! the distinctions he +would have earned. But my better genius triumphed, and +history hath been spared this infamy. It may be, this +temporary exile from our court, with the northern army, +shall tame his spirit to submission. My life or his, once +the bitter alternative, may yet be avoided."</p> + +<p>"But may not his presence with the army be impolitic, +should he turn the weapon wherewith you have girded him +to your own hurt?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis an evil choice; whichever way I turn, mischief is +before me."</p> + +<p>"Were it not best that he be recalled?"</p> + +<p>"What! to plot and practise against my life? To mount +upon my reeking body to the throne! He will not reign +with Geta. The proud boy disdains a divided empire.—And +was not mine own soul fashioned in the same mould? +When Niger would have ruled in Syria, and Albinus in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> +Britain, I scattered their legions to the winds, and levelled +their hopes with their pride. 'Tis nature: and shall I, the +author of his being, punish him for mine own gift?"</p> + +<p>He raised himself on his couch. The fierce blaze of +ambition broke the dark cloud of bodily infirmities, and the +monarch and the tyrant again dilated his almost savage +features.</p> + +<p>The secretary, used to these fiery moods, stood awaiting +his commands. The emperor, as though exhausted, sunk +down on his pillow, exclaiming,—</p> + +<p>"I have governed the world, but I cannot govern a +wayward heart!"</p> + +<p>Thus did he often lament, and provoke himself the more +with these vain regrets; forgetting that, if he had exercised +the same firmness in his private as public capacity, +the government of his own house would have been easy +as the government of the world.</p> + +<p>"Virius Lupus there is danger,—and to-night. As I have +told thee, the stars do betoken mischief. But the peril is +at my threshold. Let Caracalla remain; so shall we avert +his weapon. Should the assassin come, it will not be with +the blow of a parricide. Thou mayst retire to thy couch, +but, first, let the guards be doubled, the watchword and +countersign changed. And, hark thee, tell the tribune that +he look well to the <i>tessera</i>, and have the right count from +the inspectors. Should despatches come from Rome, let the +messenger have immediate audience."</p> + +<p>Again the emperor stretched himself on the couch, and +again his slumbers were interrupted. A murmur was +heard along the halls and passages where the guards were +stationed. The noise grew louder, approaching the very +door of the royal chamber. The monarch started, as from +a dream, and the door at that moment opened. The +Chaldæan soothsayer stood before him.</p> + +<p>"Azor!" said the Emperor, "at this hour? What +betides such unseemly greeting?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Cæsar trembles on his throne; but the world quakes +not! The angel of death is at thy door. Caracalla hath +returned."</p> + +<p>"Returned? Surely thy wits are disturbed. Caracalla! +Aye, even yesterday, we had despatches from the camp."</p> + +<p>"Howbeit, he is at thy threshold. The sound of his +feet is behind me."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! the mischief is not from him."</p> + +<p>"Even now I looked in the crystal, and behold——" +The soothsayer paused. Horror was gathering on his +features. The light suspended above him began to quiver; +and, as it waved to and fro, his countenance assumed a +tremulous and distorted expression.</p> + +<p>Severus watched the result with no little anxiety. The +magician drew a crystal cup from his girdle. Looking in, +apparently with great alarm, he presented it at arm's length +to the emperor, who beheld a milky cloud slowly undulating +within the vessel.</p> + +<p>"Take this," said the soothsayer, "and tell me what thou +seest."</p> + +<p>The monarch took it at his bidding. The cloud seemed +to be clearing away, as the morning mist before the sun.</p> + +<p>"I see nothing," said the emperor, "but a silver clasp at +the bottom."</p> + +<p>"And the owner?"</p> + +<p>"As I live," said the astonished parent, drawing forth +a curiously embossed clasp from the goblet, and holding it +out to the light, "this token of rare workmanship did the +Empress present to Caracalla, ere he departed. Whence +came it? and wherefore hast thou brought it hither?"</p> + +<p>"A silent witness to my word. Within the hour thy son +returns; and——" The seer's voice grew more ominous +whilst he spake. "Beware! there's mischief in the wind. +The raven scents his prey afar off!"</p> + +<p>"If in this thou art a true prophet, I will give thee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +largess; but if a lying spirit of divination possess thee, my +power is swift to punish as to reward."</p> + +<p>"I heed not either. Do I serve thee for lucre? Look +thee, in less time than I would occupy in telling thee on't I +could fill thy palace with gold and silver! and do I covet +thy paltry treasures? The kingdoms of this world are his +whom I serve, and shall I seek thy perishing honours? +Behold, I leave this precious goblet as my pledge. I +must away. Thou shall render it back on my return. I +would not part with that treasure for the dominion of the +Cæsars. Beware thou let it not forth from thy sight, for +there be genii who are bound to serve its possessor, and, +peradventure it shall give thee warning when evil approaches."</p> + +<p>The soothsayer departed, and the emperor laid the crystal +goblet on a table opposite his couch. He clapped his hands, +and the chief secretary approached.</p> + +<p>"What said our messenger from the north? Read again +the despatch they brought yesterday."</p> + +<p>The secretary drew forth a roll from his cabinet, and read +as follows:—</p> + +<p>"Again the supreme gods have granted victory to our +legions. Favoured by the darkness and their boats, the +barbarians attacked us from three separate points. Led on +by Fingal and his warriors, whom beforetime we erroneously +reported to be slain, they crossed over to the station where +we had pitched our tents. But the Roman eagle was yet +watchful. Though retreating behind our last defences, we +left not the field until a thousand, the choicest of our foes, +bit the dust. Morning showed us the red-haired chief and +his bards, but they were departing, and their spears were +glittering on the mountains."</p> + +<p>"Enough!" said the emperor. "Caracalla tarries yet +with the camp. Our person is not menaced by his hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> +Prithee send a brasier hither. The night is far spent, and +slumber will not again visit these eyelids."</p> + +<p>A bronze tripod was brought, supported by sphinxes, the +worship of Isis being a fashionable idolatry at that period. +Charred wood was then placed in a round dish, pierced with +holes, and perfumes thrown in to correct the smell. The +emperor commanded that he should be left alone. Covering +his shoulders with a richly-embroidered mantle, he took +from behind his pillow a Greek treatise on the occult +sciences, to the study of which he was passionately addicted.</p> + +<p>It is said of him, by historians, that he was guided by his +skill in judicial astrology to the choice of the reigning +empress, having lost his first wife when governor of the +Lyonnese Gaul. Finding that a lady of Emesa, in Syria, +one Julia Domna, had what was termed "a royal nativity," +he solicited and obtained her hand, thus making the prophecy +the means of its accomplishment.</p> + +<p>A woman of great beauty, and strong natural acquirements, +she was, at the same time, the patron of all that was +noble and distinguished in the philosophy and literature of +the age. It was even said that, secretly, she was a favourer +of the Christians. Be this as it may, we do not find she +ever became a professor of the faith.</p> + +<p>Sleep, that capricious guest, which comes unbidden, but +not invited, was just stealing over the monarch's eyelids, +when the roll fell from his grasp. The unexpected movement +startled him. His eye fell on the bright crystal +opposite. He thought a glimmer was moving in the glass. +He remembered the words of the sage, and his eye was +riveted on the mystic goblet. A sudden flash was reflected +from it. He started forward, when a naked sword fell +on the couch! the stroke he only escaped by having so +accidentally changed his place. The glass had revealed +the glitter of the blade behind him, and he was indebted +to a few inches of space for his life!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p> + +<p>Looking round, he beheld a masked figure preparing to +repeat the stroke. Severus, with his usual courage and +presence of mind, threw his mantle across the assassin's +sword. He cried out, and the chamber was immediately +filled with guards; but, whether from treachery or inadvertence, +the traitor was no where to be found. He had +escaped, leaving his weapon entangled in the folds of the +mantle. On examination, the emperor's surprise was visibly +increased, when he recognised the sword as one belonging +to Caracalla! The soothsayer's prediction was apparently +fulfilled. To the emperor's superstitious apprehensions the +crystal goblet was charged with his safety. But, lo! on +being sought for, the charmed cup was gone!</p> + +<hr style="width: 33%;" /> + +<p>The next morning, as the sun was just rising over the +green wolds, and the fresh air came brisk and sharply on +the traveller's cheek, a stranger was noticed loitering +through the narrow streets of the imperial city. He had +passed the great Calcarian or western gate, from which the +statue of the reigning emperor, on that memorable morning, +was found razed from its pedestal. The outer and inner +faces of the gate were whitened for the writing of edicts +and proclamations by the government scribes, and likewise +for the public notices of minor import, these being daubed +on the walls with various degrees of skill, in red or black +pigments, according to the nature of the decrees that were +issued by the Prætor and the caprice of the artist.</p> + +<p>On that morning a number of idlers had assembled about +the gate. The statue of the emperor, fallen prostrate, had +been removed, and an edict promptly supplied, to the +purport that an impious hand, having attempted the life of +the monarch, a reward of one hundred thousand <i>sestertia</i> +would be the price of his apprehension. Another reward +of the like sum was offered for the discovery of a crystal +goblet, stolen from the emperor's chamber.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<p>The individual we have just noticed wore the common +sleeved tunic of coarse wool; over it was a cloak buckled +on the right shoulder, the yarn being died in such wise that, +when woven, it might resemble the skin of a brindled ox—such +was the dress of the ancient Britons. His head was +covered with a close cap, but his feet were naked; and the +only weapon he bore was a two-handed sword, stuck in his +girdle.</p> + +<p>Ere he passed the gate, it might be supposed that his +business and credentials would have been rigidly scrutinised +by the guards; but he merely showed a large signet ring +to the superior officer, and was immediately allowed to +pass. He soon came to the wooden bridge over the river, +now kept by a body of the Prætorian guards. Here, on +attempting to pass, he was immediately seized. With an +air of stupid or affected concern, the prisoner drew the +same signet from his hand, the sight of which again procured +him immediate access. The bridge was crossed, and, +after passing along the narrow, winding streets, he came to +a small triumphal arch leading into the Forum. This was +an area of but mean extent, surrounded by a colonnade, +serving as a market for all sorts of wares, and the trades +carried on under its several porticoes. The outer walls, +behind the columns, were painted in compartments, black +and red, and here a number of citizens were assembled. +There was hurrying to and fro. Soldiers and messengers, +even so early, were bustling about with ominous activity. +The stranger looked on for awhile, with a vacant sort of +curiosity, then, turning to the left hand, went forward +towards the gate of the palace. On a corner of the building +he saw another edict to the same purport as before. +Near it was the announcement of a spectacle at the theatre: +the gift of a wealthy patrician for the amusement and gratification +of the people. Still the stranger passed on, apparently +uninterested by all, until he came to the outer gate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> +where he merely paused a few moments, as though to observe +the movements of the soldiers and the changing of +the guard. The sound of the trumpet seemed to attract +especial notice from this barbarian, whose uncouth air and +rude manners drew upon him the gaze of many as they +passed by. He now turned into a narrower street behind +the palace, and here he sought out a common tavern, where +the chequers, newly painted on the door posts, betokened +good entertainment for travellers. Having entered, the +hostess, whose tucked-up dress and general appearance, +Martial, in his epigrams, so cunningly describes, brought +him a vase or flagon of wine. It was not of the true +Falernian flavour, as may be readily surmised, but a mixture +of stuff, which can hardly be described, of nauseous taste, +smelling abominably of resin or pitch, and flavoured with +myrrh and other bitters. Both hot and cold refections +solicited the taste, and regaled the sight of the visitor. +Flitches of bacon were suspended from above, and fire-wood +stuffed between the rafters, black and smoky with the reeking +atmosphere below. At his own request, the stranger +was installed in a small chamber behind the public room, +where stood a couch, a three-footed table, and a lavatory. +Here he was served with radishes, cheese, and roasted eggs, +in earthen vessels, with a relish of cornels in pickle. Ere +this refection was brought in, the table was rubbed over +with a sprig of mint, and the coarse pottery betrayed an +exquisite odour of thyme and garlic.</p> + +<p>After the needful refreshments and ablutions, he sallied +forth, first inquiring for the residence of the Chaldean +soothsayer, before whose door, in due time, he arrived. The +gate leading to the vestibule was open, and he entered by +a narrow passage terminated by a small inner court. He +paused, and looked round. No fountain played in the +centre; a clump of rank, unwholesome grass was the only +decoration, but the object of his search was a crooked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> +wooden staircase, which led to a sort of gallery above. +After a little hesitation, he ascended; his country manners +showing a determination to persevere until fairly delivered +of his errand. A door at the extremity of the gallery stood +ajar, and through this he made bold to enter. A Numidian +slave, dwarfish and deformed, was sweeping his master's +chamber. He stopped short as the barbarian, with a stupid +and wondering look, entered the apartment. After surveying +the new comer with an air of deliberate scrutiny, the +dwarf burst forth into a violent fit of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Mercury hath sent us precious handsel this morning, +truly," said he, when his diversion was concluded. "A +pretty hound to scent out master's lost goods. The gods +do verily mock us in thy most gracious person."</p> + +<p>The visitor looked on with dismay during this ungracious +and taunting speech. At length he stammered forth,</p> + +<p>"Thy master, is he not the Chaldean to whom my mistress, +knowing I was bound for the city, hath sent me +privily with a message?"</p> + +<p>The Briton spoke this in a sort of guttural and broken +Latin, which the apish dwarf mimicked in the most mischievous +and provoking way imaginable. The messenger, +irritated beyond endurance, placed both hands on his weapon, +but his antagonist, with little ado, tripped up his heels, and +the poor aborigine was completely at the mercy of this grotesque +specimen of humanity.</p> + +<p>Grinning over him with spite and mischief in his looks, +the dwarf stamped on the floor; presently there came two +slaves, who, without further notice than a blow now and +then when resistance was offered, bound him with stout +cords, and bade him lie there until he should be further +disposed of. Inquiry was vain as to the cause of this treatment. +Bound hand and foot, he was then tossed with little +ceremony, and less compunction, into a corner of the room; +and there left to bemoan his hard fate. Perched just above<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> +his head, sat the cunning raven, who eyed him as though +with serious intentions of pecking at him in his present +defenceless condition. He was soon aware of this additional +source of alarm, and as the bird's eye brightened +and twinkled with greedy anticipation, he rubbed his +rapacious beak on the perch, apparently whetting it for +the feast. He then jumped down on the floor, and hopping +close to his victim, gave a hoarse and dismal croak, a death +warning, it might be, to the unfortunate captive. He tried +to burst his bonds, and shrieked out in the extremity of +his alarm. His struggles kept the bird at a distance, but +it continued to survey him with such a longing, liquorish +eye, that the poor culprit felt himself already writhing, like +another Prometheus, under the beak of his destroyer. His +terror increased. It might be some demon sent to torment +him; and this conviction strengthened when he saw the +dismal and hideous things that surrounded him. Just as his +agony was wrought to the highest pitch, he heard footsteps. +Even the sound was some relief. He knew not what further +indignities—not to say violence—he might expect; but at all +events, there would be a change, and it was hailed as an +alleviation to his misery.</p> + +<p>The soothsayer presented himself, attended by the ugly +dwarf.</p> + +<p>"A stupid barbarian thou sayest the Fates have sent us?" +said the Chaldean, as he entered. "Bridle thine impious +tongue, Merodac; what the dweller in immortal fire hath +decreed, will be accomplished, though by weak and worthless +creatures such as these. What ho! stranger, whence art +thou? and why art thou moved so early across our +threshold?"</p> + +<p>"My lord," said the prisoner, in a tone of entreaty, "these +bonds are unlawful—I am a freed man. Though a Briton, +I am no slave, and I beseech you to visit this indignity on +that rogue, who hath so scurvily entreated me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was privy to it, else would he not have dared this."</p> + +<p>"And to what end, good master?"</p> + +<p>"That we may have an answer propitious to our suit."</p> + +<p>"What! are ye about to sacrifice me to your infernal +deities!" cried the captive, almost frantic with the anticipation.</p> + +<p>"My friend, thou art bound for another purpose; to wit +that, through thy instrumentality, we may discover the +divining cup the emperor hath lost. Knowest thou aught +of this precious crystal?" inquired the Chaldean, with a +searching look.</p> + +<p>But it were vain to describe the astonishment of the victim. +He looked almost in doubt of his own identity, or as +if he were trying to shake off the impression of some +hideous dream. At length he replied,</p> + +<p>"'Tis some device surely, that ye may slay me!"</p> + +<p>He wept; and the tears trickling down his cheek, were +indeed piteous to behold, "I know not," said he, "your +meaning. Let me depart."</p> + +<p>"Nay," said the soothsayer, "thou mayest content thyself +as thou list, but the cup shall be found, and that by +thy ministry. The emperor hath offered rewards, nigh to +the value of three silver talents, for the recovery, and +assuredly thou shalt be held in durance until it be regained."</p> + +<p>"And by whose authority?" inquired the Briton.</p> + +<p>"Why, truly, it becometh thee to ask, seeing thou art a +party interested in the matter. The emperor, in whose care +the jewel was left, hath sworn by the River Styx, that unless +the cup be brought back to the palace ere to-morrow's +dawn, he will punish the innocent with the guilty; and that +with no sparing hand. He hath already laid hands on some +of the more wealthy citizens, and amerced them in divers +sums; others are detained as hostages for suspected persons +who are absent from the city. The loss of this cup being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> +connected with a daring attempt on the emperor's life by +some unknown hand, he doth suspect that the very palace +wants purging from treason; yet where to begin, or on whom +to fasten suspicion, he knoweth not. Mine art has hitherto +failed me in the matter. The tools they work with baffle +my skill, save that the oracle I consult commanded that I +should lay hold on the first male person that came hither to-day, +and by his ministry the lost treasure should be restored. +Shouldest thou refuse, thou art lost; for assuredly +the emperor will not be slow to punish thy contumacy."</p> + +<p>The miserable captive fell into great perplexity at this +discourse. He vowed he knew no more of the lost cup +than the very stones he trod on; that he had come since +nightfall from his master, Lucius Claudius, lieutenant and +standard-bearer of the sixth legion, then at Isurium,<a name="FNanchor_N_14" id="FNanchor_N_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_N_14" class="fnanchor">[N]</a> on a +mere casual errand to the city; and that his mistress, who +was a British lady of noble birth, had instructed him, at the +same time, to consult the soothsayer on some matters relative +to her nativity, which the sage had calculated some years +back. Almost a stranger in these parts, how could he pretend +to begin the search? He begged piteously for his release; +promising, and with great sincerity, that he would +never set foot in this inhospitable region again. The magician +inquired his name.</p> + +<p>"Cedric with the ready foot," was the reply. Unmoved +by his entreaties, the soothsayer said he had the +emperor's command for the use of every method he could +devise for the recovery of this precious and priceless jewel; +and that, furthermore, the safety, and even lives of many +innocent persons depended on the stranger's exertions, and +the speedy execution of his mission. But how to begin, or +in what quarter to commence the search, was a riddle worthy +of the Sphinx. A most unexpected and novel situation for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> +this rude dweller in woods and morasses, to be suddenly +thrust forth into a mighty city, without guide or direction, +more ignorant of his errand than any of its inhabitants. +Besides, he was not without a sort of incipient and instinctive +dread, that the catastrophe might procure him an interview +with the emperor; and he was filled with apprehension +lest his own carcase might afford a special treat, a +sacrifice to the brutal appetite of the spectators in the amphitheatre, +after the manner of the <i>bestiarii</i>, or gladiators, of +whom he had often heard. Even could he have gotten word +of this mishap to his master, he was by no means certain it +would be attended with any beneficial result. The time was +too short, and the will and mandate of the emperor would +render futile any attempt to obtain deliverance from this +quarter.</p> + +<p>A few moments sufficed for these considerations. The +glance of the mind, when on the rack for expedients, is +peculiarly keen, and hath an eagle-like perception that +appears as though it could pierce to the dim and distant +horizon of its hopes and apprehensions.</p> + +<p>"Unbind these withes," said the captive, "I cannot begin +the search in this extremity."</p> + +<p>"Merodac, undo these bonds; and see thou guard thy +prisoner strictly:—thy life answers for his safe keeping."</p> + +<p>The dwarf, who seemed never so well pleased as when +tormenting the more fortunate and better shapen of his +species, unloosed the cords with something of the like feeling +and intention as a cat when liberating some unfortunate +mouse from her talons.</p> + +<p>"There's a chance of rare sport i' the shows to-morrow," +said the ugly jailor. "We are sure of <i>thee</i>, anyhow.—Didst +ever see the criminals fight with wolves, Hyrcanian +bears, and such like? I would not miss the sight for the +best feather in my cap."</p> + +<p>The cruel slave here rubbed his hands, and his yellow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> +eyes glistened with the horrible anticipation. His victim +groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell thee a rare device," continued he, "whereby +thou mayest escape being eaten, at least a full hour; and we +shall have the longer sport. Mind thee, the beasts do not +always get the carcases for dinner. If they be cowardly, +and show little fight, we give the dead bestiarii to the dogs. +I remember me well the last we threw into the emperor's +kennel, the dogs made such a fighting for the carrion, that +he ordered each of us a flagellation for the disturbance. +Let me see, there was—ay—" here the knave began to +count the number of shows and human sacrifices he had +seen, recounting every particular with the most horrible +minuteness. Cedric felt himself already in the gripe of the +savages, and his flesh verily quivered on his bones.</p> + +<p>Brutal and demoralising were those horrid spectacles. The +people of Rome, it has been well observed by a modern +writer, were generally more corrupt by many degrees than +has been usually supposed possible. Many were the causes +which had been gradually operating towards this result, and +amongst the rest, the continual exhibition of scenes where +human blood was poured forth like water. The continual +excitement of the populace demanded fresh sacrifices, until +even these palled upon the cruel appetites of the multitude. +Even the more innocent exhibitions, where brutes were the +sufferers, could not but tend to destroy all the finer sensibilities +of the nature. "Five thousand wild animals, torn from +their native abodes in the wilderness and the forest," have +been turned out for mutual slaughter in one single exhibition +at the amphitheatre. Sometimes the <i>lanista</i> or person who +exhibited the shows, and provided the necessary supplies, +by way of administering specially to the gratification of the +populace, made it known, as a particular favour, that the +whole of these should be slaughtered. These, however, soon +ceased to stimulate the appetite for blood. From such combats,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> +"the transition was inevitable to those of men, whose +nobler and more varied passions spoke directly, and by the +intelligible language of the eye, to human spectators; and +from the frequent contemplation of these authorised murders, +in which a whole people—women as much as men, and +children intermingled with both, looked on with leisurely +indifference, with anxious expectation, or with rapturous +delight, whilst below them were passing the direct sufferings +of humanity, and not seldom its dying pangs, it was +impossible to expect a result different from that which did, +in fact, take place—universal hardness of heart, obdurate depravity, +and a twofold degradation of human nature, the +natural sensibility and the conscientious principle." "Here +was a constant irritation, a system of provocation to the +appetite for blood, such as in other nations are connected +with the rudest stages of society, and with the most barbarous +modes of warfare."</p> + +<p>"Whither wilt thou that we direct our steps?" inquired +Merodac, with mock submission, when the cords were unloosed.</p> + +<p>"Lead the way—I care not," said his moody victim, +"'tis as well that I follow."</p> + +<p>A bitter and scornful laugh accompanied the reply of the +dwarf.</p> + +<p>"That were a pretty device truly,—to let thee lag behind, +and without thy tether. Ah, ah," chuckled the squire +as they left the chamber; "Diogenes and his lantern was a +wise man's search compared with ours."</p> + +<p>How the slave came to be so learned in Grecian lore, +we know not. His further displays of erudition were cut +short by the soothsayer, who cried out to him as they departed,</p> + +<p>"Remember, thy carcase for his, if he return not."</p> + +<p>Now, in York, at this day, may be observed, where an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +angle of the walls abuts on the "Mint Yard," a building +named "the Multangular Tower," and supposed to have +been one of the principal fortifications of the city. However +this might be, its structure has puzzled not a little, +even those most conversant with antiquities. The area was +not built up all round, but open towards the city. The +foundations of a wall have latterly been discovered, dividing +it lengthwise through the centre, and continued, for +some distance, into the town; so that the whole may not +inaptly be represented by a Jew-trump—the tongue being +the division, the circular end the present Multangular +Tower, continued by walls on each side. This building, we +have every reason to conjecture, was the Greek <i>stadium</i> or +Roman circus, which authors tell us was a narrow piece of +ground shaped like a staple; the round end called the barrier. +The wall dividing it lengthwise is the <i>spina</i>, or flat +ridge, running through the middle, which was generally +a low wall, and sometimes merely a mound of earth. This +was usually decorated with statues of gods, columns, votive +altars, and the like. As a corroboration of this opinion, +there have been found here several small statues, altars, +and other figures, betokening a place of public resort or +amusement.</p> + +<p>The circus was not used merely for horse and chariot-races, +but likewise for wrestling—the <i>cæstus</i>, and other +athletic games. It was noted as the haunt of fortune-tellers, +and thither the poorer people used to resort, and +hear their fortunes told.<a name="FNanchor_O_15" id="FNanchor_O_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_O_15" class="fnanchor">[O]</a></p> + +<p>Near this place stood the barracks, or <i>castra</i>. Long +ranges of rooms, divided into several stories, the doors of +each chamber opening into one common gallery, ascended +by a wooden staircase.</p> + +<p>Hither we must conduct our readers, at the close of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> +day on whose inauspicious morning "Cedric with the +ready foot," was placed in such jeopardy.</p> + +<p>The whole city meanwhile had been astir. The emperor's +wrath and desire of revenge were excited to the +utmost pitch. He suspected treachery even amongst the +Prætorian guards,—his favourite and best-disciplined +troops; and there was an apprehension of some terrible disgrace +attaching even to them. Still, nothing further transpired +implicating the soldiery, save that the assassin had +escaped, and, apparently, through the very midst of the +guard; yet no one chose to accuse his fellow, or say by +whose means this mysterious outlet was contrived. Not +even to his most confidential minister did the emperor reveal +the discovery of his son's weapon. Neither that son, nor +his guilty accomplices, if any, could be found; and the day +was fast closing upon the monarch's threat, that on the +morrow his vengeance should have its full work, unless the +crystal goblet was restored.</p> + +<p>There had been a public spectacle at the theatre, but the +emperor was not present; and such was the consternation +of the whole city, that the performance was but scantily +attended. The city was apparently on the eve of some sad +catastrophe, and the whole population foreboding some +fearful event.</p> + +<p>In the circus were yet some stray groups, who, having +little employment of their own, were listening for news, and +loitering about, either for mischief or amusement.</p> + +<p>In one part was exhibited a narrow wooden box, not +unlike to our puppet-show, wherein a person was concealed, +having figures made of wood and earthenware, that seemed +to act and speak, to the great wonder and diversion of the +audience.</p> + +<p>As the rays of the declining sun smote upon the city +walls and the white sails of the barks below, there came +into the circus the dwarf, who had charge of Cedric. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> +captive now looked like a sort of appendage to his person—being +strapped to his arm by a stout thong of bull's hide, +such as was used for correcting refractory slaves. The +hours allotted for search were nearly gone. Day was drawing +to a close, and Cedric had done little else than bemoan +his hard fate. The whole day had been spent in wandering +from place to place, urged on by the scoffs and jeers of his +companion. Some furtive attempts to escape had been the +cause of his present bondage. Hither, at length, they arrived. +Tired and distressed, he sat down on one of the +vacant benches, and gave vent to his sorrows in no very +careful or measured language.</p> + +<p>"What can I do?" said he, "a stranger in this great +city—to set me a-finding what I never knew? A grain +of wheat in a barn full of chaff, mayhap—a needle in a +truss of hay—anything I might find, but what was sheer +impossible. And now am I like to be thrown to the dogs, +like a heap of carrion!"</p> + +<p>"But the oracle, friend."</p> + +<p>"Plague on the oracle, for——" Here his speech was +interrupted; for happening to look up, he saw, as he fancied, +the eyes of one of the little figures in the show-box ogling +him, and making mouths in such wise as to draw upon him +the attention of the spectators, now roaring with laughter +at his expense. Reckless of consequences, and almost furious +from sufferings, he suddenly jumped up, and dragging +the dwarf along with him, made a desperate blow at the +mimic, which, in a moment, laid sprawling a whole company +of little actors, together with the prime mover himself, +and the showman outside to boot. The fray, as may readily +be conceived, waxed loud and furious. The owners and +bystanders not discriminating as to the main cause of the +attack, would have handled both the keeper and the captive +very roughly, had not the noise awakened the attention of +the soldiers in the neighbouring barracks. Hearing the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> +affray, a party ran to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, +and seeing two men whom a whole crowd had combined to +attack, concluded they were culprits, and forthwith hailed +them before the captain of the guard, a centurion, Diogenes +Verecundus by name.</p> + +<p>Cedric and the dwarf, being rescued from a sound beating, +began to abuse one another, as the cause of the disturbance; +but the officer, by dint of threats and inquiries, +soon learned the truth of the matter.</p> + +<p>"Thank the stars, I shall be rid of this pestilence to-morrow," +said Merodac; "my master could not have found +me such another; and how the Fates could pitch upon such +a sorry cur for the business, seems passing strange. If he +find the cup, I'll be beaten to a jelly in it. Thy carcase will +be meat for the emperor's hounds to morrow."</p> + +<p>"If, as thou sayest," said the centurion, "thou art so +mightily weary of thy charge, leave him to my care; I +would fain have some discourse with him privily, touching +what thou hast spoken."</p> + +<p>The slave hesitated.</p> + +<p>"On the word of a Roman soldier he shall be forthcoming. +Tell thy master that Verecundus the centurion, hath +taken thy prisoner captive. Here is money for thee."</p> + +<p>The Ethiop showed his teeth, like ivory studs on a coral +band, while the rings shook in his wrinkled ears, as he took +the largess. Yet his brow contracted, and he hung his +head. He hesitated to unloose the bonds.</p> + +<p>"By what token?" he at length inquired.</p> + +<p>"By this!" said the centurion, taking up a thong for his +correction. "Stay," continued he, laying it down, "I will +not punish thee undeservedly. Take these, they will bear +thee harmless with thy master."</p> + +<p>The dwarf took the writing thankfully, and made the best +of his way to the dwelling of the soothsayer.</p> + +<p>The officer now beckoned Cedric that he should follow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> +In a low room by the guard-chamber at the gate, the following +conversation took place.</p> + +<p>"There is evil denounced us of a truth," said Verecundus; +"but it may be the gods have sent thee hither for our +rescue, as the oracle hath said."</p> + +<p>The Briton fixed his wondering eyes on the soldier, whilst +he continued.</p> + +<p>"I have pondered the words well, and if thou prove +trusty, ere this night pass, the plot shall be discovered, and +the ringleaders secured. We have need of such an one as +thou"—a stranger, whom they will not suspect, and will +use the intelligence he obtains with a vigilant and cunning +eye. There is work for thee, which, if well done, may +bring thee to great wealth and honour. If thou fail, we fall +together in the same ruin. There is a plot against the +emperor; and one which hath its being, ay, in the very +secrets of the palace. Those nearest him, I am well assured, +are the chief movers in the conspiracy. 'Tis this makes it +so perilous to discover, and without a fitting agent the +mischief will not be overcome. I have thought to throw +myself at the emperor's feet, but having no proof withal to +support my suspicions, I should, in all likelihood, fall a +sacrifice to my own fidelity."</p> + +<p>"But how," asked the bewildered Cedric, "shall I discover +them? Verily, it doth seem that to-day I am +destined to work out impossibilities. How it comes to pass +that a poor ignorant wretch like myself, should compass +these things, it faileth my weak fancy to discover!"</p> + +<p>"The soothsayer's speech is not lightly to be regarded. +Hark thee, knave! Is life precious unto thee?"</p> + +<p>"Yea, truly is it. I have a wife and children, besides a +few herds and other live stock, likewise sundry beeves i' the +forest. But, unless I can find favour in your eyes, my +goods, alas! I am not like to see again."</p> + +<p>"Nor wilt thou, peradventure, again behold the light of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> +yon blessed sun which hath just gone down. The shades of +evening are upon us, and the shadows of death are upon +thine eyelids; for, hark thee, I do suspect some treasonable +message in thine errand to the city."</p> + +<p>Cedric, with a look of terror and incredulity, stammered +out,</p> + +<p>"As I live, I know not thy meaning!"</p> + +<p>"Thou art in my power; and, unless thou servest me +faithfully, thou diest a cruel and fearful death. What was +the exact message wherewith thou wast entrusted?"</p> + +<p>The Briton's countenance brightened as he replied,</p> + +<p>"I give it thee, with right good will. No treason lurks +there, I trow. 'Take this,' said my master, yesternight, +giving me a signet ring; 'take it to York by day-break. +At the gate show it to the guard. If they let thee pass, +well. If not, return, for there is mischief in the city. At +the bridge, shouldest thou get so far, again show it, where, +I doubt not, thou shalt find thereby a ready passage. Seek +thee out some by-tavern, where thou mayest refresh; then, +about mid-day go into the street called the goldsmiths', and +there inquire for one Caius Lupus, the empress's jeweller. +Show him the signet, and mark what he shall tell thee.'"</p> + +<p>"Thou hast given him the signet then?" said the centurion, +sharply.</p> + +<p>"Nay. For my mistress, as ill luck would have it, hearing +of my journey, and she having had some knowledge of the +soothsayer's art aforetime, bade me consult him ere my +errand was ready with the goldsmith, and deliver a pressing +request for the horoscope which had been long promised. +What passed then, as thou knowest, is the cause of my +calamity."</p> + +<p>"But didst thou not search out the dwelling of this same +Caius, and do thine errand?"</p> + +<p>"I did. But in the straits which I endured, I was not +careful to note the time. An hour past mid-day, I sought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> +out his dwelling; but he was gone to the palace on urgent +business with the empress, nor was it known when he +might return."</p> + +<p>"Sayest thou so, friend? I would like to look at this same +potent talisman."</p> + +<p>Cedric drew forth the ring. It was a beautiful onyx, on +which, engraven with exquisite workmanship, was a head +of the youthful Caracalla, encircled by a laurel wreath, +showing marks of the most consummate skill.</p> + +<p>"Was thine errand told to the soothsayer?" was the next +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Verily nay," said the messenger; "there was little space +for parley ere I was thrust forth."</p> + +<p>"He saw not the signet, then?"</p> + +<p>"Of a truth it has not been shown, save to the guards +for my passport."</p> + +<p>"Now, knave, thy life hangs on a thread so brittle that +a breath shall break it. This same goldsmith I do suspect; +but thou shalt see him, and whatsoever he showeth, I will +be at hand that thou mayest tell me privily. I will then +instruct thee what thou shalt do. If thou fail not in thy +mission, truly thou shalt have great rewards from the emperor. +But if thou whisper—ay to the walls—of our meeting, +thou diest! Remember thou art watched. Think not to +escape!"</p> + +<p>The poor wretch caught hold on this last hope of deliverance, +and promised to obey.</p> + +<p>There was a narrow vault beneath the women's apartments +in the palace, communicating by many intricate +passages, with an outlet into the Forum. Here, on this +eventful night, was an unusual assemblage. The vault was +deep, even below the common foundations of the city, and +where the light of day never came. An iron lamp hung +from one of the massy arches of the roof; the damp and +stagnant vapours lending an awful indistinctness to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> +objects they surrounded. Chill drops lay on the walls and +on the slippery floor. The stone benches were green with +mildew; and it seemed as though the foot of man had rarely +passed its threshold.</p> + +<p>In this chamber, several individuals were now assembled +in earnest discourse, their conversation whispered rather +than spoken; yet their intrepid and severe looks, and animated +gestures, ever and anon betrayed some deep and +resolute purpose more than usually portentous.</p> + +<p>"An untoward event truly," said one of the speakers, +Virius Lupus himself, the emperor's private secretary. "If +the old magician could have been won, it had been well."</p> + +<p>"He might have saved the encounter and hazard we +must now undergo. But let him hold his fealty. We have +stout hearts and resolute hands enow to bring the matter to +a successful issue." Thus spoke Caracalla, the unnatural +eldest born of his father.</p> + +<p>"And yet," replied the secretary, "he hath a ready admittance +to his person, and a great sway over thy father's +councils."</p> + +<p>"I heed him not, now that brave men work. It were +time that our trusty servant, the commander at Isurium, had +sent the message, with the token I left him on my departure. +Ere this, we ought to have known the hour we may +expect his troops to move on the capital. I had thought to +have made all safe; to have put it beyond the power of fate +to frustrate our purpose; but I was foiled like a beardless +boy at his weapons." He gnashed his teeth as he spoke; +and this monster of cruelty breathed a horrible threat against +the life even of a parent and a king.</p> + +<p>"Here is the roll," said one, who from his inkhorn and +reed-pen seemed to be the scribe; and whose ambition had +been lured by a promise that he should have the office of +sextumvir in the imperial city.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here be the names and disposition of the troops; the +avenues and gates to which they are appointed."</p> + +<p>"We but wait a messenger from Isurium to make our +plans complete," said Caracalla. "By the same courier I +send back this cypher. Examine it, Fabricius. The troops +of Lucius Claudius are to march directly on the Forum, and +slay all who attempt resistance. Thou, Virius Lupus, wilt +guide them through the secret passage into the palace."</p> + +<p>The secretary bowed assent.</p> + +<p>"Though the empress knows not our high purpose, it is +by her connivance we are here, safe from the emperor's +spies. Under her mantle we are hidden. Suspicion hath +crossed her that I am about to head the troops; that my +father, oppressed with age and infirmities, will retire to +Rome; and that I, Caracalla, rule in Britain."</p> + +<p>"Then she knows not the mishap of yesternight?"</p> + +<p>"She knows of the attempt, but not the agent. I would +the messenger were come. 'Tis an unforeseen delay. I +pray the gods there be not treachery somewhere. The +officers and guard at the Calcarian gate and the bridge are +ours; they were instructed to obey the signet."</p> + +<p>"We will vouch for their fidelity," said two or three of +the conspirators.</p> + +<p>"Should he not arrive before midnight, we must strike," +said Fabricius.</p> + +<p>"Ay, as before," said the more cautious secretary. "But +we may now get a broken head for our pains."</p> + +<p>"The time brooks not delay," said Caracalla. "Every +moment now is big with danger to our enterprise."</p> + +<p>"Be not again too hasty," replied the secretary, "there +be none that will divulge our plans. Let every part be +complete before we act. We cannot succeed, should there +be a disjointed purpose."</p> + +<p>Caracalla vehement, and unused to the curb, was about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> +to reply, when the door opened and a dumb slave slowly +entered. He crossed his hands, and pointed to the door.</p> + +<p>"A messenger," said they all.</p> + +<p>"The gods are at last propitious," said Caracalla. "Let +him approach."</p> + +<p>Soon one was led in by the sentinel, blindfolded, and the +latter immediately withdrew.</p> + +<p>"The sign," cried the secretary.</p> + +<p>The stranger, without hesitation, presented a ring.</p> + +<p>"'Tis the same," said Caracalla. He touched a concealed +spring in the signet, and from underneath the gem drew +forth a little paper with a scrap of writing in cypher. It +was held before the lamp, and the intelligence it contained +rendered their plot complete. Ere break of day the deed +would be accomplished. The morning would see Caracalla +proclaimed, and Severus deposed.</p> + +<p>"Have ye any token to my master?" inquired the +messenger.</p> + +<p>"Take back this writing," said Virius Lupus. "Thou +wilt find him not far from the city. We wait his coming."</p> + +<p>"This leaden-heeled Mercury should have a largess," said +the chief, "but in this den we have not wherewithal to +give him. Hold! here is a good recompence, methinks," +continued he, taking the crystal goblet from a recess. +"Take this to thy mistress, and tell her to buy it from thee. +We will see her anon. That charmed cup hath foiled me +once, but I will foil thee now, and the powers thou servest. +Thou shall not again cross my path!"</p> + +<p>Cedric took the gift, wrapping it beneath his cloak.</p> + +<p>"Thou mayest depart."</p> + +<p>The dumb sentinel again took charge of him, and led +him away by many intricate passages towards the entrance, +where it seems the goldsmith had directed him on presenting +the signet of Caracalla. The person who took charge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> +of him was a dumb eunuch, a slave in the service of the +empress.</p> + +<p>But the terrors of death were upon the wretched victim. +He knew the centurion would assuredly be at hand to +receive his report, and he could not escape. He had not +brought back one word of intelligence; and, being blindfolded, +he knew not whither he had been taken. The +writing he carried would assuredly be unintelligible, save +to those for whom it was intended. His mission, he could +perceive, had utterly failed. The centurion would not be +able to profit by any thing he had brought back, and must, +inevitably, according to his pledge, at once render him up +to the soothsayer. Whilst ruminating on his hard fate, a +sudden thought crossed him. There was little probability of +success; but, at all events, it might operate as a diversion in +his favour, and the design was immediately executed. Skulking +for a moment behind the slave, he tore off the bandage, +and tripped up the heels of his conductor. Before the latter +could recover himself, the Briton's gripe was on his throat.</p> + +<p>"Now, slave, thou art my prisoner! Lead on, or, by this +good sword, thou diest!"</p> + +<p>The torch he carried was, luckily, not extinguished in +the fall. The eunuch, almost choaking, made a sign that he +would obey. With the drawn blade at his throat, the slave +went on; but Cedric, ever wary, and with that almost instinctive +sagacity peculiar to man in his half-civilised state, +kept a tiger-like watch on every movement of his prisoner, +which enabled him to detect the fingers of the slave suddenly +raised to his lips, and a shrill whistle would have consigned +him over to certain and immediate destruction; but he +struck down the uplifted hand with a blow which made his +treacherous conductor crouch and cringe almost to the +ground.</p> + +<p>"Another attempt," said Cedric, "and we perish together!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p> + +<p>The wily slave looked all penitence and submission. +Silently proceeding, apparently through the underground +avenues of the palace, Cedric was momentarily expecting his +arrival at the place where the centurion kept watch. A +flight of steps now brought them to a spacious landing-place. +Suddenly a lamp was visible, and beneath it sat a number of +soldiers, the emperor's body-guard. They gave way as the +eunuch passed by, followed by Cedric, his sword still drawn. +Several of these groups were successively cleared: the +guide, by a countersign, was enabled to thread his way +through every obstacle that presented itself. The Briton's +heart misgave him as they approached a vestibule, before +which a phalanx of the guards kept watch. Here he +thought it prudent to sheath his weapon, though he still +followed the eunuch, as his only remaining chance of +escape. Even here they were instantly admitted, and +without any apparent hesitation. The door turned slowly +on its pivot, and Cedric found himself in a richly decorated +chamber, where, by the light of a single lamp, and with +the smell of perfumed vapour in his nostrils, he saw a figure +in costly vestments reclining on a couch. The slave prostrated +himself.</p> + +<p>"What brings thee from thy mistress at this untimely +hour? A message from the empress?"</p> + +<p>Here the speaker raised himself from the couch, and the +slave, with great vehemence, made certain signs, which the +wondering Briton understood not.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the emperor, his eyes directly levelled at the +supposed culprit; "thou hast found the thief who, in the +confusion of yesternight, bore away the magic cup. Bring +him hither, that I may question him ere his carcase be sent +to the beasts."</p> + +<p>The doomed wretch was now fairly in the paws of the +very tyrant he had so long dreaded. The death, which by +every stratagem he had striven to avoid, was now inevitable.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> +He was betrayed by means of the very device he +had, as he thought, so craftily adopted; but still his natural +sagacity did not forsake him, even in this unexpected +emergency. As he prostrated himself, presenting the cup +he had stowed away safely in his cloak, he still kept a wary +eye on the slave who had betrayed him. He saw him preparing +to depart; and, knowing that his only hope of deliverance +lay in preventing his guide from giving warning +to the conspirators they had just left, Cedric, with a sudden +spring, leaped upon him like a tiger, even in presence of the +monarch.</p> + +<p>The latter, astounded at this unexpected act of temerity, +was for a few moments inactive. This pause was too +precious to be lost. Desperation gave him courage, and +Cedric addressed the dread ruler of the world even whilst +he clutched the gasping traitor.</p> + +<p>"Here, great monarch, here is the traitor; and if I prove +him not false, on my head be the recompense!"</p> + +<p>He said this in a tone of such earnestness and anxiety +that the emperor was suddenly diverted from his purpose of +summoning his attendants. He saw the favourite slave of +the empress writhing in the gripe of the barbarian; but the +events of the last few hours had awakened suspicions which +the lightest accusations might confirm. He remembered +his son's guilt, the facility of his escape; and it might be +that treason stood on the very threshold, ready to strike. +He determined to sift the matter; and, the guard now +summoned, the parties were separated,—each awaiting the +fiat of the monarch.</p> + +<p>"Where is Virius Lupus?" was the emperor's first +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"He hath not returned from the apartments of the +empress."</p> + +<p>"Let this slave be bound," cried Cedric. "Force him to +conduct you even to the place whence, blindfold, he hath just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> +led me; and if you find not a nest of traitors, my own head +shall be the forfeit."</p> + +<p>Dark and fearful was the flash that shot from the emperor's +eye on the devoted eunuch. Pale and trembling he +fell on his knees, supplicating, with uplifted hands, for +mercy. He knew it was vain to dissemble.</p> + +<p>"And what wert thou doing in such perilous company?" +inquired the emperor, turning to Cedric, and in a voice +which made him shrink.</p> + +<p>"Let the centurion, Diogenes Verecundus, be sought +out. He waits my return by the Forum Gate. To him +the city owes a discovery of this plot, and Rome her +monarch!"</p> + +<p>The faithful centurion was soon found. The eunuch +conducted them secretly to the vault. The conspirators +were seized in the very height of their anticipated success. +The roll containing the names of the leaders, the plan of +attack, and the disposition of the rebellious troops, was +discovered; and the morning sun darted a fearful ray on +the ghastly and bleeding heads uplifted on the walls and +battlements of the imperial palace.</p> + +<p>But with misplaced clemency the monster Caracalla was +again pardoned. The centurion Diogenes Verecundus was +raised to the dignity of Sexumvir. The only reward +claimed by the generous and sturdy Briton was an act of +immunity for his master, who was merely dismissed from +his post and banished the kingdom.</p> + + + +<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p> +<h2>APPENDIX.</h2> + + +<p>One morning, during Mr. Roby's stay at Keswick, in September +1849, it was reported that the floating island in the lake was +making its appearance. He immediately took a boat, and we +hastened with a friend to the spot. The island was plainly to be +seen at a short distance below the surface of the water, nearly +approaching it in some parts, in others gradually retreating beyond +our sight. It was easily touched with a stick, and appeared +covered with vegetation. We grappled up with the boat-hook, +and brought away, as a memento of our visit, a specimen of the +<i>Isoetes Lacustris</i> (European quill-wort), a plant which grows +abundantly at the bottom of the lakes in this district. The boatmen +rowed carefully about, afraid of passing over the island, lest +the boat should run aground. It gave a strange feeling thus to +find land coming up where, a few days before, we had floated in +deep water. It did not rise any higher, but, after continuing for +a day or two in the state just described, sank gradually to its old +position at the bottom of the lake. The last time it was visible, +some years since, it rose above the surface.</p> + +<p>It lies at some distance from the shore on the Barrow side of the +lake, between the Barrow landing and Lodore. It was near the +former spot that we gathered the <i>Circæa Alpina</i> (Alpine Enchanter's +Nightshade) in fruit, growing side by side with the <i>Silene +Maritima</i> (Sea Campion). The botanical reader will, perhaps, +feel an interest in the notice of two or three other localities of the +rarer plants. In the same direction, high up among the rocks, +near Ashness Gill, Mr. Roby found the <i>Oxyria reniformis</i> (Kidney-shaped +Mountain-sorrel.) The <i>Salix Herbacæa</i> (Least Willow), +the smallest of British trees, and <i>Lycopodium Alpinum</i> (Savin-leaved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> +Club-moss), on Skiddaw, their well known habitat; the +latter plant also, with the <i>Alchemilla Alpina</i> (Alpine Lady's-mantle), +its silvery leaves glistening in the sun, on the mountain-side opposite +Honister Crag. In the wild and shady nooks of Borrowdale, +the <i>Polypodium Phegopteris</i> (Pale Mountain-polypody) and the +<i>P. Dryopteris</i> (Tender Three-branched Polypody), growing in +charming profusion. And on Dunmail Raise, and on the precipitous +descent of the Stake between Langdale Pikes and Bowfell, the +golden stars of the <i>Saxifriga Azoides</i> (Yellow Mountain-saxifrage) +were still sparkling, where a little moisture allowed them to +flourish.</p> + + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap">London</span>:<br /> +<span class="smcap">Spottiswoodes</span> and <span class="smcap">Shaw</span>,<br /> +New-street-Square.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> The recovery of Mr. Roby's papers from the wreck of the +Orion, June, 1850, when <span class="smcap">God</span>, in His inscrutable providence, cut +short a life so incomparably precious, was even then matter of +thankfulness. Many portions of the MS., from which the legends +in this volume were printed, bear traces of the sad catastrophe.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> The notion of this huge stone being a boulder stone—perhaps +from Norway, which was long believed, is now exploded. A friend +at Keswick (Sept. 1853) writes me word that the Porphyritic greenstone +of which it is composed, runs through many parts of the Lake +district, in the immediate neighbourhood, and that this stone must +have fallen from the cliff just above. My informant adds, that Mr. +Wright, the well known guide, in company with a gentleman, +measured the stone and the cavity whence it fell, and found them +to correspond; though the cavity is now somewhat overgrown by +grass, it is not difficult to perceive.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Esther, in the Jew of York. See Frazer's Mag. for Sept. 1836.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Robert Langland's Visions of Pierce Plowman, were written +about the year 1362. He represents himself as falling asleep on +the Malvern Hills, and there beholding a series of visions, in describing +which, he takes occasion to satirise the vices prevailing in +the different classes of society, particularly the corruptions of the +clergy. His prediction of the Reformation in England is most remarkable. +As the date of these visions preceded Chaucer twenty +years, the author must be considered the first English poet. He +was a native of Shropshire, and fellow of Oriel College. Whitaker, +who styles him the father of English Poetry, does not confirm the +supposition that he was a monk of Worcester or Malvern. He +thus paraphrases the opening lines. +</p><p> +"In early summer while sunshine was mild, I withdrew myself +into a solitary place, surrounded with shrubs, in habit not like an +Anchorite who keeps his cell, but like one of those unholy hermits +who wander about the world to see and hear wonders; and on a +May morning, reclining in a glade among the Malvern Hills, I +slept from fatigue, and dreaming, beheld all the wealth and woe of +the world."—<i>Whitaker's (of Whalley) Ed. of Pierce Plowman:</i> +1813.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> To strangers as well as residents we were much indebted. We +received both the warmest sympathy and personal kindness from +the Rev. J. Clarke, Incumbent of Stretford near Manchester, whose +interesting narrative, published under the title of "<i>The Wreck of +the Orion</i>," contains a full account of the mournful catastrophe. +And never can be erased from memory the debt of kindness due to +an English clergyman of the Episcopal Church in Scotland—the +Rev. —— Pugh—who had come to seek his lovely little girl who had +just perished in the wreck. The sympathy and encouragement he +afforded touching that one supreme desire, and his offer, beyond +all price, to take charge of the remains so unutterably dear, with +those of his own beloved child, fill the heart with a weight of thankfulness +that cannot be expressed. I can only look forward to that +world where all the lovely will be gathered together, and the tears +wiped from the mourner's eyes, as they already have been from +those of the beloved ones we weep over.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> He would sometimes ventriloquise for the amusement of his +friends. The incessant invention required to sustain the wit of +three, and sometimes four, interlocutors, combined with the physical +effort, kept the powers of both mind and body on the stretch +to a degree that exhausted him more than anything else in which +he engaged. See <i>Stewart's Phil. Hum. Mind</i>. III. 229—224.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> Foster represents as "the <i>last</i> attainment of a zealously good +man, the resignation to be as diminutive an agent as <span class="smcap">God</span> pleases +and as unsuccessful an one."—<i>Essay on the Application of the +Epithet Romantic.</i> Letter V.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> It is not perhaps always borne in mind, that corn, when cut, +is not immediately ready to be carried home. It requires to stand +some little time in shock—that the process of ripening may be +completed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> Since the above was prepared for the press, the writer has +met with an interesting illustration of the power of the consolation +there indicated, in that <i>unique</i> biography, the Life of Mrs. Fletcher +of Madeley. Conder's exquisite poem "the Reverie" treats of +the same thought. It is the poet's subject, in the poet's hands.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_J_10" id="Footnote_J_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J_10"><span class="label">[J]</span></a> This song, and one from the "Traditions of Lancashire," +"They bade me sing, they bade me smile," were set to music by +Mr. Charles Smith, author of "Hohenlinden" and other popular +songs. The stanzas immediately following were also set by him as +a glee. Cramer, Addison, & Co. 201 Regent Street.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_K_11" id="Footnote_K_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K_11"><span class="label">[K]</span></a> These stanzas have been set to a Spanish air by T. Ashworth. +D'Almaine & Co., Soho Square.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_L_12" id="Footnote_L_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L_12"><span class="label">[L]</span></a> Within the last few years, since this story was written, the old house +itself has been levelled with the ground.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_M_13" id="Footnote_M_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_M_13"><span class="label">[M]</span></a> In the 39th of Eliz., Sir John Biron held the manor of Rochdale, +subsequently held by the Ramsays; but in the 13th of Charles I. it was +reconveyed. The Biron family is more ancient than the Conquest. +Gospatrick held lands of Ernais de Buron in the county of York, as +appears by Domesday Book. Sir Nicholas Byron distinguished himself +in the civil wars of Charles I.; and, in consequence of his zeal in the +royal cause, the manor of Rochdale was sequestered. After the Restoration, +it reverted to the Byrons. Sir John, during these troubles, +was made a peer, by the title of Baron Byron of Rochdale. In 1823, +the late Lord Byron sold the manor, after having been in possession of +the family for nearly three centuries.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_N_14" id="Footnote_N_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_N_14"><span class="label">[N]</span></a> Aldborough.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_O_15" id="Footnote_O_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_O_15"><span class="label">[O]</span></a> Lubinus in Juven. p. 294.</p></div> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="tnotes"><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> + +<div class="tnote"><p>Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected, other +punctuations have been left as printed in the paper book.</p></div> + +<div class="tnote"><p>Titles have been added to the music pages (page 121-122) +based on Table of Contents.</p></div> + +<div class="tnote"><p>For each music piece, links are provided to to a midi file +[Listen]; a PDF file [PDF] containing larger images of the piece; and a MusicXML +file [XML], which can be viewed in most browsers, text editors, and music +notation applications. Lyrics are set-out below the image.</p></div> + +<div class="tnote"><p>Obvious printer's errors have been corrected, including:</p> +<ul><li>Page 162-207, incorrect spellings of character names repaired, +(<span class="smcap">"ronald"</span> corrected to be <span class="smcap">"roland," "hermoine"</span> corrected to be <span class="smcap">"hermione"</span>)</li> +<li>Page 317, "Herman" corrected to be "Hermann" (Doctor Hermann Sichel)</li> +<li>Page 360, "c[oe]stus" correced to be "cæstus" (the _cæstus_)</li> +</ul></div> + +<div class="tnote"><p>Other variable spellings retained, including variable usage of +accent (e.g. "wingéd" and "winged"), ligature ("dæmon" and +"demon"), hyphen (e.g. "a-ground" and "aground"), archaic form +(e.g. "can" and "canst"), any other inconsistent spellings (e.g. +"synonyms" and "synonymes")</p></div></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Legendary and Poetical Remains of +John Roby, by John Roby + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEGENDARY AND POETICAL *** + +***** This file should be named 37930-h.htm or 37930-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/9/3/37930/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Judith Wirawan, Linda Cantoni +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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