CHAPTER II.
ON my arrival, I found that an order had already gone forth for the army toproceed immediately towards Constantinople; and the troops which hadsuffered least in the battle were already on their way. The town was fullof tumult. The wound, and consequent inability of Argyropylo, causedRaymond to be the first in command. He rode through the town, visiting thewounded, and giving such orders as were necessary for the siege hemeditated. Early in the morning the whole army was in motion. In the hurryI could hardly find an opportunity to bestow the last offices on Evadne.Attended only by my servant, I dug a deep grave for her at the foot of thetree, and without disturbing her warrior shroud, I placed her in it,heaping stones upon the grave. The dazzling sun and glare of daylight,deprived the scene of solemnity; from Evadne's low tomb, I joined Raymondand his staff, now on their way to the Golden City.
Constantinople was invested, trenches dug, and advances made. The wholeGreek fleet blockaded it by sea; on land from the river Kyat Kbanah, nearthe Sweet Waters, to the Tower of Marmora, on the shores of the Propontis,along the whole line of the ancient walls, the trenches of the siege weredrawn. We already possessed Pera; the Golden Horn itself, the city,bastioned by the sea, and the ivy-mantled walls of the Greek emperors wasall of Europe that the Mahometans could call theirs. Our army looked on heras certain prey. They counted the garrison; it was impossible that itshould be relieved; each sally was a victory; for, even when the Turks weretriumphant, the loss of men they sustained was an irreparable injury. I rodeone morning with Raymond to the lofty mound, not far from the Top Kapou,(Cannon-gate), on which Mahmoud planted his standard, and first saw thecity. Still the same lofty domes and minarets towered above the verdurouswalls, where Constantine had died, and the Turk had entered the city. Theplain around was interspersed with cemeteries, Turk, Greek, and Armenian,with their growth of cypress trees; and other woods of more cheerfulaspect, diversified the scene. Among them the Greek army was encamped, andtheir squadrons moved to and fro--now in regular march, now in swiftcareer.
Raymond's eyes were fixed on the city. "I have counted the hours of herlife," said he; "one month, and she falls. Remain with me till then; waittill you see the cross on St. Sophia; and then return to your peacefulglades."
"You then," I asked, "still remain in Greece?"
"Assuredly," replied Raymond. "Yet Lionel, when I say this,believe me I look back with regret to our tranquil life at Windsor.I am but half a soldier; I love the renown, but not the trade of war.Before the battle of Rodosto I was full of hope and spirit; toconquer there, and afterwards to take Constantinople, was thehope, the bourne, the fulfilment of my ambition. This enthusiasm is nowspent, I know not why; I seem to myself to be entering a darksome gulph;the ardent spirit of the army is irksome to me, the rapture of triumphnull."
He paused, and was lost in thought. His serious mien recalled, by someassociation, the half-forgotten Evadne to my mind, and I seized thisopportunity to make enquiries from him concerning her strange lot. I askedhim, if he had ever seen among the troops any one resembling her; if sincehe had returned to Greece he had heard of her?
He started at her name,--he looked uneasily on me. "Even so," he cried,"I knew you would speak of her. Long, long I had forgotten her. Since ourencampment here, she daily, hourly visits my thoughts. When I am addressed,her name is the sound I expect: in every communication, I imagine that shewill form a part. At length you have broken the spell; tell me what youknow of her."
I related my meeting with her; the story of her death was told and re-told.With painful earnestness he questioned me concerning her prophecies withregard to him. I treated them as the ravings of a maniac. "No, no," hesaid, "do not deceive yourself,--me you cannot. She has said nothing butwhat I knew before--though this is confirmation. Fire, the sword, andplague! They may all be found in yonder city; on my head alone may theyfall!"
From this day Raymond's melancholy increased. He secluded himself as muchas the duties of his station permitted. When in company, sadness would inspite of every effort steal over his features, and he sat absent and muteamong the busy crowd that thronged about him. Perdita rejoined him, andbefore her he forced himself to appear cheerful, for she, even as a mirror,changed as he changed, and if he were silent and anxious, she solicitouslyinquired concerning, and endeavoured to remove the cause of hisseriousness. She resided at the palace of Sweet Waters, a summer seraglioof the Sultan; the beauty of the surrounding scenery, undefiled by war, andthe freshness of the river, made this spot doubly delightful. Raymond feltno relief, received no pleasure from any show of heaven or earth. He oftenleft Perdita, to wander in the grounds alone; or in a light shallop hefloated idly on the pure waters, musing deeply. Sometimes I joined him; atsuch times his countenance was invariably solemn, his air dejected. Heseemed relieved on seeing me, and would talk with some degree of intereston the affairs of the day. There was evidently something behind all this;yet, when he appeared about to speak of that which was nearest his heart,he would abruptly turn away, and with a sigh endeavour to deliver thepainful idea to the winds.
It had often occurred, that, when, as I said, Raymond quitted Perdita'sdrawing-room, Clara came up to me, and gently drawing me aside, said, "Papais gone; shall we go to him? I dare say he will be glad to see you." And,as accident permitted, I complied with or refused her request. One eveninga numerous assembly of Greek chieftains were gathered together in thepalace. The intriguing Palli, the accomplished Karazza, the warlikeYpsilanti, were among the principal. They talked of the events of the day;the skirmish at noon; the diminished numbers of the Infidels; their defeatand flight: they contemplated, after a short interval of time, the captureof the Golden City. They endeavoured to picture forth what would thenhappen, and spoke in lofty terms of the prosperity of Greece, whenConstantinople should become its capital. The conversation then reverted toAsiatic intelligence, and the ravages the plague made in its chief cities;conjectures were hazarded as to the progress that disease might have madein the besieged city.
Raymond had joined in the former part of the discussion. In lively terms hedemonstrated the extremities to which Constantinople was reduced; thewasted and haggard, though ferocious appearance of the troops; famine andpestilence was at work for them, he observed, and the infidels would soonbe obliged to take refuge in their only hope--submission. Suddenly in themidst of his harangue he broke off, as if stung by some painful thought; herose uneasily, and I perceived him at length quit the hall, and through thelong corridor seek the open air. He did not return; and soon Clara creptround to me, making the accustomed invitation. I consented to her request,and taking her little hand, followed Raymond. We found him just about toembark in his boat, and he readily agreed to receive us as companions.After the heats of the day, the cooling land-breeze ruffled the river, andfilled our little sail. The city looked dark to the south, while numerouslights along the near shores, and the beautiful aspect of the banksreposing in placid night, the waters keenly reflecting the heavenly lights,gave to this beauteous river a dower of loveliness that might havecharacterized a retreat in Paradise. Our single boatman attended to thesail; Raymond steered; Clara sat at his feet, clasping his knees with herarms, and laying her head on them. Raymond began the conversation somewhatabruptly.
"This, my friend, is probably the last time we shall have an opportunity ofconversing freely; my plans are now in full operation, and my time willbecome more and more occupied. Besides, I wish at once to tell you mywishes and expectations, and then never again to revert to so painful asubject. First, I must thank you, Lionel, for having remained here at myrequest. Vanity first prompted me to ask you: vanity, I call it; yet evenin this I see the hand of fate--your presence will soon be necessary; youwill become the last resource of Perdita, her protector and consoler. Youwill take her back to Windsor."--
"Not without you," I said. "You do not mean to separate again?"
"Do not deceive yourself," replied Raymond, "the separation at hand is oneover which I have no control; most near at h
and is it; the days are alreadycounted. May I trust you? For many days I have longed to disclose themysterious presentiments that weigh on me, although I fear that you willridicule them. Yet do not, my gentle friend; for, all childish and unwiseas they are, they have become a part of me, and I dare not expect to shakethem off.
"Yet how can I expect you to sympathize with me? You are of this world; Iam not. You hold forth your hand; it is even as a part of yourself; and youdo not yet divide the feeling of identity from the mortal form that shapesforth Lionel. How then can you understand me? Earth is to me a tomb, thefirmament a vault, shrouding mere corruption. Time is no more, for I havestepped within the threshold of eternity; each man I meet appears a corse,which will soon be deserted of its animating spark, on the eve of decay andcorruption.
Cada piedra un piramide levanta, y cada flor costruye un monumento, cada edificio es un sepulcro altivo, cada soldado un esqueleto vivo."[1]
His accent was mournful,--he sighed deeply. "A few months ago," hecontinued, "I was thought to be dying; but life was strong within me. Myaffections were human; hope and love were the day-stars of my life. Now--they dream that the brows of the conqueror of the infidel faith are aboutto be encircled by triumphant laurel; they talk of honourable reward, oftitle, power, and wealth--all I ask of Greece is a grave. Let them raisea mound above my lifeless body, which may stand even when the dome of St.Sophia has fallen.
"Wherefore do I feel thus? At Rodosto I was full of hope; but when first Isaw Constantinople, that feeling, with every other joyful one, departed.The last words of Evadne were the seal upon the warrant of my death. Yet Ido not pretend to account for my mood by any particular event. All I cansay is, that it is so. The plague I am told is in Constantinople, perhaps Ihave imbibed its effluvia--perhaps disease is the real cause of myprognostications. It matters little why or wherefore I am affected, nopower can avert the stroke, and the shadow of Fate's uplifted hand alreadydarkens me.
"To you, Lionel, I entrust your sister and her child. Never mention to herthe fatal name of Evadne. She would doubly sorrow over the strange linkthat enchains me to her, making my spirit obey her dying voice, followingher, as it is about to do, to the unknown country."
I listened to him with wonder; but that his sad demeanour and solemnutterance assured me of the truth and intensity of his feelings, I shouldwith light derision have attempted to dissipate his fears. Whatever I wasabout to reply, was interrupted by the powerful emotions of Clara. Raymondhad spoken, thoughtless of her presence, and she, poor child, heard withterror and faith the prophecy of his death. Her father was moved by herviolent grief; he took her in his arms and soothed her, but his verysoothings were solemn and fearful. "Weep not, sweet child," said he, "thecoming death of one you have hardly known. I may die, but in death I cannever forget or desert my own Clara. In after sorrow or joy, believe thatyou father's spirit is near, to save or sympathize with you. Be proud ofme, and cherish your infant remembrance of me. Thus, sweetest, I shall notappear to die. One thing you must promise,--not to speak to any one butyour uncle, of the conversation you have just overheard. When I am gone,you will console your mother, and tell her that death was only bitterbecause it divided me from her; that my last thoughts will be spent on her.But while I live, promise not to betray me; promise, my child."
With faltering accents Clara promised, while she still clung to her fatherin a transport of sorrow. Soon we returned to shore, and I endeavoured toobviate the impression made on the child's mind, by treating Raymond'sfears lightly. We heard no more of them; for, as he had said, the siege,now drawing to a conclusion, became paramount in interest, engaging all histime and attention.
The empire of the Mahometans in Europe was at its close. The Greek fleetblockading every port of Stamboul, prevented the arrival of succour fromAsia; all egress on the side towards land had become impracticable, exceptto such desperate sallies, as reduced the numbers of the enemy withoutmaking any impression on our lines. The garrison was now so muchdiminished, that it was evident that the city could easily have beencarried by storm; but both humanity and policy dictated a slower mode ofproceeding. We could hardly doubt that, if pursued to the utmost, itspalaces, its temples and store of wealth would be destroyed in the fury ofcontending triumph and defeat. Already the defenceless citizens hadsuffered through the barbarity of the Janisaries; and, in time of storm,tumult and massacre, beauty, infancy and decrepitude, would have alike beensacrificed to the brutal ferocity of the soldiers. Famine and blockade werecertain means of conquest; and on these we founded our hopes of victory.
Each day the soldiers of the garrison assaulted our advanced posts, andimpeded the accomplishment of our works. Fire-boats were launched from thevarious ports, while our troops sometimes recoiled from the devoted courageof men who did not seek to live, but to sell their lives dearly. Thesecontests were aggravated by the season: they took place during summer, whenthe southern Asiatic wind came laden with intolerable heat, when thestreams were dried up in their shallow beds, and the vast basin of the seaappeared to glow under the unmitigated rays of the solsticial sun. Nor didnight refresh the earth. Dew was denied; herbage and flowers there werenone; the very trees drooped; and summer assumed the blighted appearance ofwinter, as it went forth in silence and flame to abridge the means ofsustenance to man. In vain did the eye strive to find the wreck of somenorthern cloud in the stainless empyrean, which might bring hope of changeand moisture to the oppressive and windless atmosphere. All was serene,burning, annihilating. We the besiegers were in the comparison littleaffected by these evils. The woods around afforded us shade,--the riversecured to us a constant supply of water; nay, detachments were employed infurnishing the army with ice, which had been laid up on Haemus, and Athos,and the mountains of Macedonia, while cooling fruits and wholesome foodrenovated the strength of the labourers, and made us bear with lessimpatience the weight of the unrefreshing air. But in the city things worea different face. The sun's rays were refracted from the pavement andbuildings--the stoppage of the public fountains--the bad quality of thefood, and scarcity even of that, produced a state of suffering, which wasaggravated by the scourge of disease; while the garrison arrogated everysuperfluity to themselves, adding by waste and riot to the necessary evilsof the time. Still they would not capitulate.
Suddenly the system of warfare was changed. We experienced no moreassaults; and by night and day we continued our labours unimpeded. Strangerstill, when the troops advanced near the city, the walls were vacant, andno cannon was pointed against the intruders. When these circumstances werereported to Raymond, he caused minute observations to be made as to whatwas doing within the walls, and when his scouts returned, reporting onlythe continued silence and desolation of the city, he commanded the army tobe drawn out before the gates. No one appeared on the walls; the veryportals, though locked and barred, seemed unguarded; above, the many domesand glittering crescents pierced heaven; while the old walls, survivors ofages, with ivy-crowned tower and weed-tangled buttress, stood as rocks inan uninhabited waste. From within the city neither shout nor cry, nor aughtexcept the casual howling of a dog, broke the noon-day stillness. Even oursoldiers were awed to silence; the music paused; the clang of arms washushed. Each man asked his fellow in whispers, the meaning of this suddenpeace; while Raymond from an height endeavoured, by means of glasses, todiscover and observe the stratagem of the enemy. No form could be discernedon the terraces of the houses; in the higher parts of the town no movingshadow bespoke the presence of any living being: the very trees waved not,and mocked the stability of architecture with like immovability.
The tramp of horses, distinctly heard in the silence, was at lengthdiscerned. It was a troop sent by Karazza, the Admiral; they boredispatches to the Lord General. The contents of these papers wereimportant. The night before, the watch, on board one of the smaller vesselsanchored near the seraglio wall, was roused by a slight splashing as ofmuffled oars; the alarm was given: twelve small boats, each containingthree Janizaries, were descried endea
vouring to make their way through thefleet to the opposite shore of Scutari. When they found themselvesdiscovered they discharged their muskets, and some came to the front tocover the others, whose crews, exerting all their strength, endeavoured toescape with their light barks from among the dark hulls that environedthem. They were in the end all sunk, and, with the exception of two orthree prisoners, the crews drowned. Little could be got from the survivors;but their cautious answers caused it to be surmised that severalexpeditions had preceded this last, and that several Turks of rank andimportance had been conveyed to Asia. The men disdainfully repelled theidea of having deserted the defence of their city; and one, the youngestamong them, in answer to the taunt of a sailor, exclaimed, "Take it,Christian dogs! take the palaces, the gardens, the mosques, the abode ofour fathers--take plague with them; pestilence is the enemy we fly; ifshe be your friend, hug her to your bosoms. The curse of Allah is onStamboul, share ye her fate."
Such was the account sent by Karazza to Raymond: but a tale full ofmonstrous exaggerations, though founded on this, was spread by theaccompanying troop among our soldiers. A murmur arose, the city was theprey of pestilence; already had a mighty power subjugated the inhabitants;Death had become lord of Constantinople.
I have heard a picture described, wherein all the inhabitants of earth weredrawn out in fear to stand the encounter of Death. The feeble and decrepidfled; the warriors retreated, though they threatened even in flight. Wolvesand lions, and various monsters of the desert roared against him; while thegrim Unreality hovered shaking his spectral dart, a solitary but invincibleassailant. Even so was it with the army of Greece. I am convinced, that hadthe myriad troops of Asia come from over the Propontis, and stood defendersof the Golden City, each and every Greek would have marched against theoverwhelming numbers, and have devoted himself with patriotic fury for hiscountry. But here no hedge of bayonets opposed itself, no death-dealingartillery, no formidable array of brave soldiers--the unguarded wallsafforded easy entrance--the vacant palaces luxurious dwellings; but abovethe dome of St. Sophia the superstitious Greek saw Pestilence, and shrunkin trepidation from her influence.
Raymond was actuated by far other feelings. He descended the hill with aface beaming with triumph, and pointing with his sword to the gates,commanded his troops to--down with those barricades--the only obstaclesnow to completest victory. The soldiers answered his cheerful words withaghast and awe-struck looks; instinctively they drew back, and Raymond rodein the front of the lines:--"By my sword I swear," he cried, "that noambush or stratagem endangers you. The enemy is already vanquished; thepleasant places, the noble dwellings and spoil of the city are alreadyyours; force the gate; enter and possess the seats of your ancestors, yourown inheritance!"
An universal shudder and fearful whispering passed through the lines; not asoldier moved. "Cowards!" exclaimed their general, exasperated, "give me anhatchet! I alone will enter! I will plant your standard; and when you seeit wave from yon highest minaret, you may gain courage, and rally roundit!"
One of the officers now came forward: "General," he said, "we neither fearthe courage, nor arms, the open attack, nor secret ambush of the Moslems.We are ready to expose our breasts, exposed ten thousand times before, tothe balls and scymetars of the infidels, and to fall gloriously for Greece.But we will not die in heaps, like dogs poisoned in summer-time, by thepestilential air of that city--we dare not go against the Plague!"
A multitude of men are feeble and inert, without a voice, a leader; givethem that, and they regain the strength belonging to their numbers. Shoutsfrom a thousand voices now rent the air--the cry of applause becameuniversal. Raymond saw the danger; he was willing to save his troops fromthe crime of disobedience; for he knew, that contention once begun betweenthe commander and his army, each act and word added to the weakness of theformer, and bestowed power on the latter. He gave orders for the retreat tobe sounded, and the regiments repaired in good order to the camp.
I hastened to carry the intelligence of these strange proceedings toPerdita; and we were soon joined by Raymond. He looked gloomy andperturbed. My sister was struck by my narrative: "How beyond theimagination of man," she exclaimed, "are the decrees of heaven, wondrousand inexplicable!"
"Foolish girl," cried Raymond angrily, "are you like my valiant soldiers,panic-struck? What is there inexplicable, pray, tell me, in so very naturalan occurrence? Does not the plague rage each year in Stamboul? What wonder,that this year, when as we are told, its virulence is unexampled in Asia,that it should have occasioned double havoc in that city? What wonder then,in time of siege, want, extreme heat, and drought, that it should makeunaccustomed ravages? Less wonder far is it, that the garrison, despairingof being able to hold out longer, should take advantage of the negligenceof our fleet to escape at once from siege and capture. It is not pestilence--by the God that lives! it is not either plague or impending danger thatmakes us, like birds in harvest-time, terrified by a scarecrow, abstainfrom the ready prey--it is base superstition--And thus the aim of thevaliant is made the shuttlecock of fools; the worthy ambition of thehigh-souled, the plaything of these tamed hares! But yet Stamboul shall beours! By my past labours, by torture and imprisonment suffered for them, bymy victories, by my sword, I swear--by my hopes of fame, by my formerdeserts now awaiting their reward, I deeply vow, with these hands to plantthe cross on yonder mosque!"
"Dearest Raymond!" interrupted Perdita, in a supplicating accent.
He had been walking to and fro in the marble hall of the seraglio; his verylips were pale with rage, while, quivering, they shaped his angry words--his eyes shot fire--his gestures seemed restrained by their veryvehemence. "Perdita," he continued, impatiently, "I know what you wouldsay; I know that you love me, that you are good and gentle; but this is nowoman's work--nor can a female heart guess at the hurricane which tearsme!"
He seemed half afraid of his own violence, and suddenly quitted the hall: alook from Perdita shewed me her distress, and I followed him. He was pacingthe garden: his passions were in a state of inconceivable turbulence. "Am Ifor ever," he cried, "to be the sport of fortune! Must man, theheaven-climber, be for ever the victim of the crawling reptiles of hisspecies! Were I as you, Lionel, looking forward to many years of life, to asuccession of love-enlightened days, to refined enjoyments andfresh-springing hopes, I might yield, and breaking my General's staff, seekrepose in the glades of Windsor. But I am about to die!--nay, interruptme not--soon I shall die. From the many-peopled earth, from thesympathies of man, from the loved resorts of my youth, from the kindness ofmy friends, from the affection of my only beloved Perdita, I am about to beremoved. Such is the will of fate! Such the decree of the High Ruler fromwhom there is no appeal: to whom I submit. But to lose all--to lose withlife and love, glory also! It shall not be!
"I, and in a few brief years, all you,--this panic-struck army, and allthe population of fair Greece, will no longer be. But other generationswill arise, and ever and for ever will continue, to be made happier by ourpresent acts, to be glorified by our valour. The prayer of my youth was tobe one among those who render the pages of earth's history splendid; whoexalt the race of man, and make this little globe a dwelling of the mighty.Alas, for Raymond! the prayer of his youth is wasted--the hopes of hismanhood are null!
"From my dungeon in yonder city I cried, soon I will be thy lord! WhenEvadne pronounced my death, I thought that the title of Victor ofConstantinople would be written on my tomb, and I subdued all mortal fear.I stand before its vanquished walls, and dare not call myself a conqueror.So shall it not be! Did not Alexander leap from the walls of the city ofthe Oxydracae, to shew his coward troops the way to victory, encounteringalone the swords of its defenders? Even so will I brave the plague--andthough no man follow, I will plant the Grecian standard on the height ofSt. Sophia."
Reason came unavailing to such high-wrought feelings. In vain I shewed him,that when winter came, the cold would dissipate the pestilential air, andrestore courage to the Greeks. "Talk not of other season t
han this!" hecried. "I have lived my last winter, and the date of this year, 2092, willbe carved upon my tomb. Already do I see," he continued, looking upmournfully, "the bourne and precipitate edge of my existence, over which Iplunge into the gloomy mystery of the life to come. I am prepared, so thatI leave behind a trail of light so radiant, that my worst enemies cannotcloud it. I owe this to Greece, to you, to my surviving Perdita, and tomyself, the victim of ambition."
We were interrupted by an attendant, who announced, that the staff ofRaymond was assembled in the council-chamber. He requested me in themeantime to ride through the camp, and to observe and report to him thedispositions of the soldiers; he then left me. I had been excited to theutmost by the proceedings of the day, and now more than ever by thepassionate language of Raymond. Alas! for human reason! He accused theGreeks of superstition: what name did he give to the faith he lent to thepredictions of Evadne? I passed from the palace of Sweet Waters to theplain on which the encampment lay, and found its inhabitants in commotion.The arrival of several with fresh stories of marvels, from the fleet; theexaggerations bestowed on what was already known; tales of old prophecies,of fearful histories of whole regions which had been laid waste during thepresent year by pestilence, alarmed and occupied the troops. Discipline waslost; the army disbanded itself. Each individual, before a part of a greatwhole moving only in unison with others, now became resolved into the unitnature had made him, and thought of himself only. They stole off at firstby ones and twos, then in larger companies, until, unimpeded by theofficers, whole battalions sought the road that led to Macedonia.
About midnight I returned to the palace and sought Raymond; he was alone,and apparently composed; such composure, at least, was his as is inspiredby a resolve to adhere to a certain line of conduct. He heard my account ofthe self-dissolution of the army with calmness, and then said, "You know,Verney, my fixed determination not to quit this place, until in the lightof day Stamboul is confessedly ours. If the men I have about me shrink fromfollowing me, others, more courageous, are to be found. Go you before breakof day, bear these dispatches to Karazza, add to them your own entreatiesthat he send me his marines and naval force; if I can get but one regimentto second me, the rest would follow of course. Let him send me thisregiment. I shall expect your return by to-morrow noon."
Methought this was but a poor expedient; but I assured him of my obedienceand zeal. I quitted him to take a few hours rest. With the breaking ofmorning I was accoutred for my ride. I lingered awhile, desirous of takingleave of Perdita, and from my window observed the approach of the sun. Thegolden splendour arose, and weary nature awoke to suffer yet another day ofheat and thirsty decay. No flowers lifted up their dew-laden cups to meetthe dawn; the dry grass had withered on the plains; the burning fields ofair were vacant of birds; the cicale alone, children of the sun, begantheir shrill and deafening song among the cypresses and olives. I sawRaymond's coal-black charger brought to the palace gate; a small company ofofficers arrived soon after; care and fear was painted on each cheek, andin each eye, unrefreshed by sleep. I found Raymond and Perdita together. Hewas watching the rising sun, while with one arm he encircled his beloved'swaist; she looked on him, the sun of her life, with earnest gaze of mingledanxiety and tenderness. Raymond started angrily when he saw me. "Herestill?" he cried. "Is this your promised zeal?"
"Pardon me," I said, "but even as you speak, I am gone."
"Nay, pardon me," he replied; "I have no right to command or reproach; butmy life hangs on your departure and speedy return. Farewell!"
His voice had recovered its bland tone, but a dark cloud still hung on hisfeatures. I would have delayed; I wished to recommend watchfulness toPerdita, but his presence restrained me. I had no pretence for myhesitation; and on his repeating his farewell, I clasped his outstretchedhand; it was cold and clammy. "Take care of yourself, my dear Lord," Isaid.
"Nay," said Perdita, "that task shall be mine. Return speedily,Lionel." With an air of absence he was playing with her auburn locks, whileshe leaned on him; twice I turned back, only to look again on thismatchless pair. At last, with slow and heavy steps, I had paced out of thehall, and sprung upon my horse. At that moment Clara flew towards me;clasping my knee she cried, "Make haste back, uncle! Dear uncle, I havesuch fearful dreams; I dare not tell my mother. Do not be long away!" Iassured her of my impatience to return, and then, with a small escort rodealong the plain towards the tower of Marmora.
I fulfilled my commission; I saw Karazza. He was somewhat surprised; hewould see, he said, what could be done; but it required time; and Raymondhad ordered me to return by noon. It was impossible to effect any thing inso short a time. I must stay till the next day; or come back, after havingreported the present state of things to the general. My choice was easilymade. A restlessness, a fear of what was about to betide, a doubt as toRaymond's purposes, urged me to return without delay to his quarters.Quitting the Seven Towers, I rode eastward towards the Sweet Waters. I tooka circuitous path, principally for the sake of going to the top of themount before mentioned, which commanded a view of the city. I had my glasswith me. The city basked under the noon-day sun, and the venerable wallsformed its picturesque boundary. Immediately before me was the Top Kapou,the gate near which Mahomet had made the breach by which he entered thecity. Trees gigantic and aged grew near; before the gate I discerned acrowd of moving human figures--with intense curiosity I lifted my glassto my eye. I saw Lord Raymond on his charger; a small company of officershad gathered about him; and behind was a promiscuous concourse of soldiersand subalterns, their discipline lost, their arms thrown aside; no musicsounded, no banners streamed. The only flag among them was one whichRaymond carried; he pointed with it to the gate of the city. The circleround him fell back. With angry gestures he leapt from his horse, andseizing a hatchet that hung from his saddle-bow, went with the apparentintention of battering down the opposing gate. A few men came to aid him;their numbers increased; under their united blows the obstacle wasvanquished, gate, portcullis, and fence were demolished; and the widesun-lit way, leading to the heart of the city, now lay open before them.The men shrank back; they seemed afraid of what they had already done, andstood as if they expected some Mighty Phantom to stalk in offended majestyfrom the opening. Raymond sprung lightly on his horse, grasped thestandard, and with words which I could not hear (but his gestures, beingtheir fit accompaniment, were marked by passionate energy,) he seemed toadjure their assistance and companionship; even as he spoke, the crowdreceded from him. Indignation now transported him; his words I guessed werefraught with disdain--then turning from his coward followers, headdressed himself to enter the city alone. His very horse seemed to backfrom the fatal entrance; his dog, his faithful dog, lay moaning andsupplicating in his path--in a moment more, he had plunged the rowelsinto the sides of the stung animal, who bounded forward, and he, thegateway passed, was galloping up the broad and desart street.
Until this moment my soul had been in my eyes only. I had gazed withwonder, mixed with fear and enthusiasm. The latter feeling nowpredominated. I forgot the distance between us: "I will go with thee,Raymond!" I cried; but, my eye removed from the glass, I could scarcediscern the pigmy forms of the crowd, which about a mile from me surroundedthe gate; the form of Raymond was lost. Stung with impatience, I urged myhorse with force of spur and loosened reins down the acclivity, that,before danger could arrive, I might be at the side of my noble, godlikefriend. A number of buildings and trees intervened, when I had reached theplain, hiding the city from my view. But at that moment a crash was heard.Thunderlike it reverberated through the sky, while the air was darkened. Amoment more and the old walls again met my sight, while over them hovered amurky cloud; fragments of buildings whirled above, half seen in smoke,while flames burst out beneath, and continued explosions filled the airwith terrific thunders. Flying from the mass of falling ruin which leaptover the high walls, and shook the ivy towers, a crowd of soldiers made forthe road by which I came; I was surrounded, hemmed in by them, unable toge
t forward. My impatience rose to its utmost; I stretched out my hands tothe men; I conjured them to turn back and save their General, the conquerorof Stamboul, the liberator of Greece; tears, aye tears, in warm flow gushedfrom my eyes--I would not believe in his destruction; yet every mass thatdarkened the air seemed to bear with it a portion of the martyred Raymond.Horrible sights were shaped to me in the turbid cloud that hovered over thecity; and my only relief was derived from the struggles I made to approachthe gate. Yet when I effected my purpose, all I could discern within theprecincts of the massive walls was a city of fire: the open way throughwhich Raymond had ridden was enveloped in smoke and flame. After aninterval the explosions ceased, but the flames still shot up from variousquarters; the dome of St. Sophia had disappeared. Strange to say (theresult perhaps of the concussion of air occasioned by the blowing up of thecity) huge, white thunder clouds lifted themselves up from the southernhorizon, and gathered over-head; they were the first blots on the blueexpanse that I had seen for months, and amidst this havoc and despair theyinspired pleasure. The vault above became obscured, lightning flashed fromthe heavy masses, followed instantaneously by crashing thunder; then thebig rain fell. The flames of the city bent beneath it; and the smoke anddust arising from the ruins was dissipated.
I no sooner perceived an abatement of the flames than, hurried on by anirresistible impulse, I endeavoured to penetrate the town. I could only dothis on foot, as the mass of ruin was impracticable for a horse. I hadnever entered the city before, and its ways were unknown to me. The streetswere blocked up, the ruins smoking; I climbed up one heap, only to viewothers in succession; and nothing told me where the centre of the townmight be, or towards what point Raymond might have directed his course. Therain ceased; the clouds sunk behind the horizon; it was now evening, andthe sun descended swiftly the western sky. I scrambled on, until I came toa street, whose wooden houses, half-burnt, had been cooled by the rain, andwere fortunately uninjured by the gunpowder. Up this I hurried--until nowI had not seen a vestige of man. Yet none of the defaced human forms whichI distinguished, could be Raymond; so I turned my eyes away, while my heartsickened within me. I came to an open space--a mountain of ruin in themidst, announced that some large mosque had occupied the space--and here,scattered about, I saw various articles of luxury and wealth, singed,destroyed--but shewing what they had been in their ruin--jewels,strings of pearls, embroidered robes, rich furs, glittering tapestries, andoriental ornaments, seemed to have been collected here in a pile destinedfor destruction; but the rain had stopped the havoc midway.
Hours passed, while in this scene of ruin I sought for Raymond.Insurmountable heaps sometimes opposed themselves; the still burning firesscorched me. The sun set; the atmosphere grew dim--and the evening starno longer shone companionless. The glare of flames attested the progress ofdestruction, while, during mingled light and obscurity, the piles around metook gigantic proportions and weird shapes. For a moment I could yield tothe creative power of the imagination, and for a moment was soothed by thesublime fictions it presented to me. The beatings of my human heart drew meback to blank reality. Where, in this wilderness of death, art thou, ORaymond--ornament of England, deliverer of Greece, "hero of unwrittenstory," where in this burning chaos are thy dear relics strewed? I calledaloud for him--through the darkness of night, over the scorching ruins offallen Constantinople, his name was heard; no voice replied--echo evenwas mute.
I was overcome by weariness; the solitude depressed my spirits. The sultryair impregnated with dust, the heat and smoke of burning palaces, palsiedmy limbs. Hunger suddenly came acutely upon me. The excitement which hadhitherto sustained me was lost; as a building, whose props are loosened,and whose foundations rock, totters and falls, so when enthusiasm and hopedeserted me, did my strength fail. I sat on the sole remaining step of anedifice, which even in its downfall, was huge and magnificent; a few brokenwalls, not dislodged by gunpowder, stood in fantastic groupes, and a flameglimmered at intervals on the summit of the pile. For a time hunger andsleep contended, till the constellations reeled before my eyes and thenwere lost. I strove to rise, but my heavy lids closed, my limbsover-wearied, claimed repose--I rested my head on the stone, I yielded tothe grateful sensation of utter forgetfulness; and in that scene ofdesolation, on that night of despair--I slept.
[1] Calderon de la Barca.