CHAPTER IX.
HALF England was desolate, when October came, and the equinoctial windsswept over the earth, chilling the ardours of the unhealthy season. Thesummer, which was uncommonly hot, had been protracted into the beginning ofthis month, when on the eighteenth a sudden change was brought about fromsummer temperature to winter frost. Pestilence then made a pause in herdeath-dealing career. Gasping, not daring to name our hopes, yet full evento the brim with intense expectation, we stood, as a ship-wrecked sailorstands on a barren rock islanded by the ocean, watching a distant vessel,fancying that now it nears, and then again that it is bearing from sight.This promise of a renewed lease of life turned rugged natures to meltingtenderness, and by contrast filled the soft with harsh and unnaturalsentiments. When it seemed destined that all were to die, we were recklessof the how and when--now that the virulence of the disease was mitigated,and it appeared willing to spare some, each was eager to be among theelect, and clung to life with dastard tenacity. Instances of desertionbecame more frequent; and even murders, which made the hearer sick withhorror, where the fear of contagion had armed those nearest in bloodagainst each other. But these smaller and separate tragedies were about toyield to a mightier interest--and, while we were promised calm frominfectious influences, a tempest arose wilder than the winds, a tempestbred by the passions of man, nourished by his most violent impulses,unexampled and dire.
A number of people from North America, the relics of that populouscontinent, had set sail for the East with mad desire of change, leavingtheir native plains for lands not less afflicted than their own. Severalhundreds landed in Ireland, about the first of November, and tookpossession of such vacant habitations as they could find; seizing upon thesuperabundant food, and the stray cattle. As they exhausted the produce ofone spot, they went on to another. At length they began to interfere withthe inhabitants, and strong in their concentrated numbers, ejected thenatives from their dwellings, and robbed them of their winter store. A fewevents of this kind roused the fiery nature of the Irish; and they attackedthe invaders. Some were destroyed; the major part escaped by quick and wellordered movements; and danger made them careful. Their numbers ablyarranged; the very deaths among them concealed; moving on in good order,and apparently given up to enjoyment, they excited the envy of the Irish.The Americans permitted a few to join their band, and presently therecruits outnumbered the strangers--nor did they join with them, norimitate the admirable order which, preserved by the Trans-Atlantic chiefs,rendered them at once secure and formidable. The Irish followed their trackin disorganized multitudes; each day encreasing; each day becoming morelawless. The Americans were eager to escape from the spirit they hadroused, and, reaching the eastern shores of the island, embarked forEngland. Their incursion would hardly have been felt had they come alone;but the Irish, collected in unnatural numbers, began to feel the inroads offamine, and they followed in the wake of the Americans for England also.The crossing of the sea could not arrest their progress. The harbours ofthe desolate sea-ports of the west of Ireland were filled with vessels ofall sizes, from the man of war to the small fishers' boat, which laysailorless, and rotting on the lazy deep. The emigrants embarked byhundreds, and unfurling their sails with rude hands, made strange havoc ofbuoy and cordage. Those who modestly betook themselves to the smallercraft, for the most part achieved their watery journey in safety. Some, inthe true spirit of reckless enterprise, went on board a ship of an hundredand twenty guns; the vast hull drifted with the tide out of the bay, andafter many hours its crew of landsmen contrived to spread a great part ofher enormous canvass--the wind took it, and while a thousand mistakes ofthe helmsman made her present her head now to one point, and now toanother, the vast fields of canvass that formed her sails flapped with asound like that of a huge cataract; or such as a sea-like forest may giveforth when buffeted by an equinoctial north-wind. The port-holes were open,and with every sea, which as she lurched, washed her decks, they receivedwhole tons of water. The difficulties were increased by a fresh breezewhich began to blow, whistling among the shrowds, dashing the sails thisway and that, and rending them with horrid split, and such whir as may havevisited the dreams of Milton, when he imagined the winnowing of thearch-fiend's van-like wings, which encreased the uproar of wild chaos.These sounds were mingled with the roaring of the sea, the splash of thechafed billows round the vessel's sides, and the gurgling up of the waterin the hold. The crew, many of whom had never seen the sea before, feltindeed as if heaven and earth came ruining together, as the vessel dippedher bows in the waves, or rose high upon them. Their yells were drowned inthe clamour of elements, and the thunder rivings of their unwieldyhabitation--they discovered at last that the water gained on them, andthey betook themselves to their pumps; they might as well have laboured toempty the ocean by bucketfuls. As the sun went down, the gale encreased;the ship seemed to feel her danger, she was now completely water-logged,and presented other indications of settling before she went down. The baywas crowded with vessels, whose crews, for the most part, were observingthe uncouth sportings of this huge unwieldy machine--they saw hergradually sink; the waters now rising above her lower decks--they couldhardly wink before she had utterly disappeared, nor could the place wherethe sea had closed over her be at all discerned. Some few of her crew weresaved, but the greater part clinging to her cordage and masts went downwith her, to rise only when death loosened their hold.
This event caused many of those who were about to sail, to put foot againon firm land, ready to encounter any evil rather than to rush into theyawning jaws of the pitiless ocean. But these were few, in comparison tothe numbers who actually crossed. Many went up as high as Belfast to ensurea shorter passage, and then journeying south through Scotland, they werejoined by the poorer natives of that country, and all poured with oneconsent into England.
Such incursions struck the English with affright, in all those towns wherethere was still sufficient population to feel the change. There was roomenough indeed in our hapless country for twice the number of invaders; buttheir lawless spirit instigated them to violence; they took a delight inthrusting the possessors from their houses; in seizing on some mansion ofluxury, where the noble dwellers secluded themselves in fear of the plague;in forcing these of either sex to become their servants and purveyors;till, the ruin complete in one place, they removed their locust visitationto another. When unopposed they spread their ravages wide; in cases ofdanger they clustered, and by dint of numbers overthrew their weak anddespairing foes. They came from the east and the north, and directed theircourse without apparent motive, but unanimously towards our unhappymetropolis.
Communication had been to a great degree cut off through the paralyzingeffects of pestilence, so that the van of our invaders had proceeded as faras Manchester and Derby, before we received notice of their arrival. Theyswept the country like a conquering army, burning--laying waste--murdering. The lower and vagabond English joined with them. Some few of theLords Lieutenant who remained, endeavoured to collect the militia--butthe ranks were vacant, panic seized on all, and the opposition that wasmade only served to increase the audacity and cruelty of the enemy. Theytalked of taking London, conquering England--calling to mind the longdetail of injuries which had for many years been forgotten. Such vauntsdisplayed their weakness, rather than their strength--yet still theymight do extreme mischief, which, ending in their destruction, would renderthem at last objects of compassion and remorse.
We were now taught how, in the beginning of the world, mankind clothedtheir enemies in impossible attributes--and how details proceeding frommouth to mouth, might, like Virgil's ever-growing Rumour, reach the heavenswith her brow, and clasp Hesperus and Lucifer with her outstretched hands.Gorgon and Centaur, dragon and iron-hoofed lion, vast sea-monster andgigantic hydra, were but types of the strange and appalling accountsbrought to London concerning our invaders. Their landing was long unknown,but having now advanced within an hundred miles of London, the countrypeople flying before them arrived in successiv
e troops, each exaggeratingthe numbers, fury, and cruelty of the assailants. Tumult filled the beforequiet streets--women and children deserted their homes, escaping theyknew not whither--fathers, husbands, and sons, stood trembling, not forthemselves, but for their loved and defenceless relations. As the countrypeople poured into London, the citizens fled southwards--they climbed thehigher edifices of the town, fancying that they could discern the smoke andflames the enemy spread around them. As Windsor lay, to a great degree, inthe line of march from the west, I removed my family to London, assigningthe Tower for their sojourn, and joining Adrian, acted as his Lieutenant inthe coming struggle.
We employed only two days in our preparations, and made good use of them.Artillery and arms were collected; the remnants of such regiments, as couldbe brought through many losses into any show of muster, were put underarms, with that appearance of military discipline which might encourage ourown party, and seem most formidable to the disorganized multitude of ourenemies. Even music was not wanting: banners floated in the air, and theshrill fife and loud trumpet breathed forth sounds of encouragement andvictory. A practised ear might trace an undue faltering in the step of thesoldiers; but this was not occasioned so much by fear of the adversary, asby disease, by sorrow, and by fatal prognostications, which often weighedmost potently on the brave, and quelled the manly heart to abjectsubjection.
Adrian led the troops. He was full of care. It was small relief to him thatour discipline should gain us success in such a conflict; while plaguestill hovered to equalize the conqueror and the conquered, it was notvictory that he desired, but bloodless peace. As we advanced, we were metby bands of peasantry, whose almost naked condition, whose despair andhorror, told at once the fierce nature of the coming enemy. The senselessspirit of conquest and thirst of spoil blinded them, while with insane furythey deluged the country in ruin. The sight of the military restored hopeto those who fled, and revenge took place of fear. They inspired thesoldiers with the same sentiment. Languor was changed to ardour, the slowstep converted to a speedy pace, while the hollow murmur of the multitude,inspired by one feeling, and that deadly, filled the air, drowning theclang of arms and sound of music. Adrian perceived the change, and fearedthat it would be difficult to prevent them from wreaking their utmost furyon the Irish. He rode through the lines, charging the officers to restrainthe troops, exhorting the soldiers, restoring order, and quieting in somedegree the violent agitation that swelled every bosom.
We first came upon a few stragglers of the Irish at St. Albans. Theyretreated, and, joining others of their companions, still fell back, tillthey reached the main body. Tidings of an armed and regular oppositionrecalled them to a sort of order. They made Buckingham their head-quarters,and scouts were sent out to ascertain our situation. We remained for thenight at Luton. In the morning a simultaneous movement caused us each toadvance. It was early dawn, and the air, impregnated with freshest odour,seemed in idle mockery to play with our banners, and bore onwards towardsthe enemy the music of the bands, the neighings of the horses, and regularstep of the infantry. The first sound of martial instruments that came uponour undisciplined foe, inspired surprise, not unmingled with dread. Itspoke of other days, of days of concord and order; it was associated withtimes when plague was not, and man lived beyond the shadow of imminentfate. The pause was momentary. Soon we heard their disorderly clamour, thebarbarian shouts, the untimed step of thousands coming on in disarray.Their troops now came pouring on us from the open country or narrow lanes;a large extent of unenclosed fields lay between us; we advanced to themiddle of this, and then made a halt: being somewhat on superior ground, wecould discern the space they covered. When their leaders perceived us drawnout in opposition, they also gave the word to halt, and endeavoured to formtheir men into some imitation of military discipline. The first ranks hadmuskets; some were mounted, but their arms were such as they had seizedduring their advance, their horses those they had taken from the peasantry;there was no uniformity, and little obedience, but their shouts and wildgestures showed the untamed spirit that inspired them. Our soldiersreceived the word, and advanced to quickest time, but in perfect order:their uniform dresses, the gleam of their polished arms, their silence, andlooks of sullen hate, were more appalling than the savage clamour of ourinnumerous foe. Thus coming nearer and nearer each other, the howls andshouts of the Irish increased; the English proceeded in obedience to theirofficers, until they came near enough to distinguish the faces of theirenemies; the sight inspired them with fury: with one cry, that rent heavenand was re-echoed by the furthest lines, they rushed on; they disdained theuse of the bullet, but with fixed bayonet dashed among the opposing foe,while the ranks opening at intervals, the matchmen lighted the cannon,whose deafening roar and blinding smoke filled up the horror of the scene. Iwas beside Adrian; a moment before he had again given the word to halt, andhad remained a few yards distant from us in deep meditation: he was formingswiftly his plan of action, to prevent the effusion of blood; the noise ofcannon, the sudden rush of the troops, and yell of the foe, startled him:with flashing eyes he exclaimed, "Not one of these must perish!" andplunging the rowels into his horse's sides, he dashed between theconflicting bands. We, his staff, followed him to surround and protect him;obeying his signal, however, we fell back somewhat. The soldiery perceivinghim, paused in their onset; he did not swerve from the bullets that passednear him, but rode immediately between the opposing lines. Silencesucceeded to clamour; about fifty men lay on the ground dying or dead.Adrian raised his sword in act to speak: "By whose command," he cried,addressing his own troops, "do you advance? Who ordered your attack? Fallback; these misguided men shall not be slaughtered, while I am yourgeneral. Sheath your weapons; these are your brothers, commit notfratricide; soon the plague will not leave one for you to glut your revengeupon: will you be more pitiless than pestilence? As you honour me--as youworship God, in whose image those also are created--as your children andfriends are dear to you,--shed not a drop of precious human blood."
He spoke with outstretched hand and winning voice, and then turning to ourinvaders, with a severe brow, he commanded them to lay down their arms: "Doyou think," he said, "that because we are wasted by plague, you canovercome us; the plague is also among you, and when ye are vanquished byfamine and disease, the ghosts of those you have murdered will arise to bidyou not hope in death. Lay down your arms, barbarous and cruel men--menwhose hands are stained with the blood of the innocent, whose souls areweighed down by the orphan's cry! We shall conquer, for the right is on ourside; already your cheeks are pale--the weapons fall from your nervelessgrasp. Lay down your arms, fellow men! brethren! Pardon, succour, andbrotherly love await your repentance. You are dear to us, because you wearthe frail shape of humanity; each one among you will find a friend andhost among these forces. Shall man be the enemy of man, while plague, thefoe to all, even now is above us, triumphing in our butchery, more cruelthan her own?"
Each army paused. On our side the soldiers grasped their arms firmly, andlooked with stern glances on the foe. These had not thrown down theirweapons, more from fear than the spirit of contest; they looked at eachother, each wishing to follow some example given him,--but they had noleader. Adrian threw himself from his horse, and approaching one of thosejust slain: "He was a man," he cried, "and he is dead. O quickly bind upthe wounds of the fallen--let not one die; let not one more soul escapethrough your merciless gashes, to relate before the throne of God the taleof fratricide; bind up their wounds--restore them to their friends. Castaway the hearts of tigers that burn in your breasts; throw down those toolsof cruelty and hate; in this pause of exterminating destiny, let each manbe brother, guardian, and stay to the other. Away with those blood-stainedarms, and hasten some of you to bind up these wounds."
As he spoke, he knelt on the ground, and raised in his arms a man fromwhose side the warm tide of life gushed--the poor wretch gasped--sostill had either host become, that his moans were distinctly heard, andevery heart, late fiercely bent on universal
massacre, now beat anxiouslyin hope and fear for the fate of this one man. Adrian tore off his militaryscarf and bound it round the sufferer--it was too late--the man heaveda deep sigh, his head fell back, his limbs lost their sustaining power.--"He is dead!" said Adrian, as the corpse fell from his arms on the ground,and he bowed his head in sorrow and awe. The fate of the world seemed boundup in the death of this single man. On either side the bands threw downtheir arms, even the veterans wept, and our party held out their hands totheir foes, while a gush of love and deepest amity filled every heart. Thetwo forces mingling, unarmed and hand in hand, talking only how each mightassist the other, the adversaries conjoined; each repenting, the one sidetheir former cruelties, the other their late violence, they obeyed theorders of the General to proceed towards London.
Adrian was obliged to exert his utmost prudence, first to allay thediscord, and then to provide for the multitude of the invaders. They weremarched to various parts of the southern counties, quartered in desertedvillages,--a part were sent back to their own island, while the season ofwinter so far revived our energy, that the passes of the country weredefended, and any increase of numbers prohibited.
On this occasion Adrian and Idris met after a separation of nearly a year.Adrian had been occupied in fulfilling a laborious and painful task. He hadbeen familiar with every species of human misery, and had for ever foundhis powers inadequate, his aid of small avail. Yet the purpose of his soul,his energy and ardent resolution, prevented any re-action of sorrow. Heseemed born anew, and virtue, more potent than Medean alchemy, endued himwith health and strength. Idris hardly recognized the fragile being, whoseform had seemed to bend even to the summer breeze, in the energetic man,whose very excess of sensibility rendered him more capable of fulfillinghis station of pilot in storm-tossed England.
It was not thus with Idris. She was uncomplaining; but the very soul offear had taken its seat in her heart. She had grown thin and pale, her eyesfilled with involuntary tears, her voice was broken and low. She tried tothrow a veil over the change which she knew her brother must observe inher, but the effort was ineffectual; and when alone with him, with a burstof irrepressible grief she gave vent to her apprehensions and sorrow. Shedescribed in vivid terms the ceaseless care that with still renewing hungerate into her soul; she compared this gnawing of sleepless expectation ofevil, to the vulture that fed on the heart of Prometheus; under theinfluence of this eternal excitement, and of the interminable struggles sheendured to combat and conceal it, she felt, she said, as if all the wheelsand springs of the animal machine worked at double rate, and were fastconsuming themselves. Sleep was not sleep, for her waking thoughts, bridledby some remains of reason, and by the sight of her children happy and inhealth, were then transformed to wild dreams, all her terrors wererealized, all her fears received their dread fulfilment. To this statethere was no hope, no alleviation, unless the grave should quickly receiveits destined prey, and she be permitted to die, before she experienced athousand living deaths in the loss of those she loved. Fearing to give mepain, she hid as best she could the excess of her wretchedness, but meetingthus her brother after a long absence, she could not restrain theexpression of her woe, but with all the vividness of imagination with whichmisery is always replete, she poured out the emotions of her heart to herbeloved and sympathizing Adrian.
Her present visit to London tended to augment her state of inquietude, byshewing in its utmost extent the ravages occasioned by pestilence. Ithardly preserved the appearance of an inhabited city; grass sprung up thickin the streets; the squares were weed-grown, the houses were shut up, whilesilence and loneliness characterized the busiest parts of the town. Yet inthe midst of desolation Adrian had preserved order; and each one continuedto live according to law and custom--human institutions thus surviving asit were divine ones, and while the decree of population was abrogated,property continued sacred. It was a melancholy reflection; and in spite ofthe diminution of evil produced, it struck on the heart as a wretchedmockery. All idea of resort for pleasure, of theatres and festivals hadpassed away. "Next summer," said Adrian as we parted on our return toWindsor, "will decide the fate of the human race. I shall not pause inmy exertions until that time; but, if plague revives with the coming year,all contest with her must cease, and our only occupation be the choice ofa grave."
I must not forget one incident that occurred during this visit to London.The visits of Merrival to Windsor, before frequent, had suddenly ceased. Atthis time where but a hair's line separated the living from the dead, Ifeared that our friend had become a victim to the all-embracing evil. Onthis occasion I went, dreading the worst, to his dwelling, to see if Icould be of any service to those of his family who might have survived. Thehouse was deserted, and had been one of those assigned to the invadingstrangers quartered in London. I saw his astronomical instruments put tostrange uses, his globes defaced, his papers covered with abstrusecalculations destroyed. The neighbours could tell me little, till I lightedon a poor woman who acted as nurse in these perilous times. She told methat all the family were dead, except Merrival himself, who had gone mad--mad, she called it, yet on questioning her further, it appeared that he waspossessed only by the delirium of excessive grief. This old man, totteringon the edge of the grave, and prolonging his prospect through millions ofcalculated years,--this visionary who had not seen starvation in thewasted forms of his wife and children, or plague in the horrible sights andsounds that surrounded him--this astronomer, apparently dead on earth,and living only in the motion of the spheres--loved his family withunapparent but intense affection. Through long habit they had become a partof himself; his want of worldly knowledge, his absence of mind and infantguilelessness, made him utterly dependent on them. It was not till one ofthem died that he perceived their danger; one by one they were carried offby pestilence; and his wife, his helpmate and supporter, more necessary tohim than his own limbs and frame, which had hardly been taught the lessonof self-preservation, the kind companion whose voice always spoke peace tohim, closed her eyes in death. The old man felt the system of universalnature which he had so long studied and adored, slide from under him, andhe stood among the dead, and lifted his voice in curses.--No wonder thatthe attendant should interpret as phrensy the harrowing maledictions of thegrief-struck old man.
I had commenced my search late in the day, a November day, that closed inearly with pattering rain and melancholy wind. As I turned from the door, Isaw Merrival, or rather the shadow of Merrival, attenuated and wild, passme, and sit on the steps of his home. The breeze scattered the grey lockson his temples, the rain drenched his uncovered head, he sat hiding hisface in his withered hands. I pressed his shoulder to awaken his attention,but he did not alter his position. "Merrival," I said, "it is long since wehave seen you--you must return to Windsor with me--Lady Idris desiresto see you, you will not refuse her request--come home with me."
He replied in a hollow voice, "Why deceive a helpless old man, why talkhypocritically to one half crazed? Windsor is not my home; my true home Ihave found; the home that the Creator has prepared for me."
His accent of bitter scorn thrilled me--"Do not tempt me to speak," hecontinued, "my words would scare you--in an universe of cowards I darethink--among the church-yard tombs--among the victims of His mercilesstyranny I dare reproach the Supreme Evil. How can he punish me? Let himbare his arm and transfix me with lightning--this is also one of hisattributes"--and the old man laughed.
He rose, and I followed him through the rain to a neighbouring church-yard--he threw himself on the wet earth. "Here they are," he cried, "beautifulcreatures--breathing, speaking, loving creatures. She who by day andnight cherished the age-worn lover of her youth--they, parts of my flesh,my children--here they are: call them, scream their names through thenight; they will not answer!" He clung to the little heaps that marked thegraves. "I ask but one thing; I do not fear His hell, for I have it here; Ido not desire His heaven, let me but die and be laid beside them; let mebut, when I lie dead, feel my flesh as it
moulders, mingle with theirs.Promise," and he raised himself painfully, and seized my arm, "promise tobury me with them."
"So God help me and mine as I promise," I replied, "on one condition:return with me to Windsor."
"To Windsor!" he cried with a shriek, "Never!--from this place I never go--my bones, my flesh, I myself, are already buried here, and what you seeof me is corrupted clay like them. I will lie here, and cling here, tillrain, and hail, and lightning and storm, ruining on me, make me one insubstance with them below."
In a few words I must conclude this tragedy. I was obliged to leave London,and Adrian undertook to watch over him; the task was soon fulfilled; age,grief, and inclement weather, all united to hush his sorrows, and bringrepose to his heart, whose beats were agony. He died embracing the sod,which was piled above his breast, when he was placed beside the beings whomhe regretted with such wild despair.
I returned to Windsor at the wish of Idris, who seemed to think that therewas greater safety for her children at that spot; and because, once havingtaken on me the guardianship of the district, I would not desert it whilean inhabitant survived. I went also to act in conformity with Adrian'splans, which was to congregate in masses what remained of the population;for he possessed the conviction that it was only through the benevolent andsocial virtues that any safety was to be hoped for the remnant of mankind.
It was a melancholy thing to return to this spot so dear to us, as thescene of a happiness rarely before enjoyed, here to mark the extinction ofour species, and trace the deep uneraseable footsteps of disease over thefertile and cherished soil. The aspect of the country had so far changed,that it had been impossible to enter on the task of sowing seed, and otherautumnal labours. That season was now gone; and winter had set in withsudden and unusual severity. Alternate frosts and thaws succeeding tofloods, rendered the country impassable. Heavy falls of snow gave an arcticappearance to the scenery; the roofs of the houses peeped from the whitemass; the lowly cot and stately mansion, alike deserted, were blocked up,their thresholds uncleared; the windows were broken by the hail, while theprevalence of a north-east wind rendered out-door exertions extremelypainful. The altered state of society made these accidents of nature,sources of real misery. The luxury of command and the attentions ofservitude were lost. It is true that the necessaries of life were assembledin such quantities, as to supply to superfluity the wants of the diminishedpopulation; but still much labour was required to arrange these, as itwere, raw materials; and depressed by sickness, and fearful of the future,we had not energy to enter boldly and decidedly on any system.
I can speak for myself--want of energy was not my failing. The intenselife that quickened my pulses, and animated my frame, had the effect, notof drawing me into the mazes of active life, but of exalting my lowliness,and of bestowing majestic proportions on insignificant objects--I couldhave lived the life of a peasant in the same way--my trifling occupationswere swelled into important pursuits; my affections were impetuous andengrossing passions, and nature with all her changes was invested in divineattributes. The very spirit of the Greek mythology inhabited my heart; Ideified the uplands, glades, and streams, I
Had sight of Proteus coming from the sea; And heard old Triton blow his wreathed horn.[1]
Strange, that while the earth preserved her monotonous course, I dwelt withever-renewing wonder on her antique laws, and now that with excentric wheelshe rushed into an untried path, I should feel this spirit fade; Istruggled with despondency and weariness, but like a fog, they choked me.Perhaps, after the labours and stupendous excitement of the past summer,the calm of winter and the almost menial toils it brought with it, were bynatural re-action doubly irksome. It was not the grasping passion of thepreceding year, which gave life and individuality to each moment--it wasnot the aching pangs induced by the distresses of the times. The utterinutility that had attended all my exertions took from them their usualeffects of exhilaration, and despair rendered abortive the balm of selfapplause--I longed to return to my old occupations, but of what use werethey? To read were futile--to write, vanity indeed. The earth, late widecircus for the display of dignified exploits, vast theatre for amagnificent drama, now presented a vacant space, an empty stage--foractor or spectator there was no longer aught to say or hear.
Our little town of Windsor, in which the survivors from the neighbouringcounties were chiefly assembled, wore a melancholy aspect. Its streets wereblocked up with snow--the few passengers seemed palsied, and frozen bythe ungenial visitation of winter. To escape these evils was the aim andscope of all our exertions. Families late devoted to exalting and refinedpursuits, rich, blooming, and young, with diminished numbers andcare-fraught hearts, huddled over a fire, grown selfish and grovellingthrough suffering. Without the aid of servants, it was necessary todischarge all household duties; hands unused to such labour must knead thebread, or in the absence of flour, the statesmen or perfumed courtier mustundertake the butcher's office. Poor and rich were now equal, or rather thepoor were the superior, since they entered on such tasks with alacrity andexperience; while ignorance, inaptitude, and habits of repose, renderedthem fatiguing to the luxurious, galling to the proud, disgustful to allwhose minds, bent on intellectual improvement, held it their dearestprivilege to be exempt from attending to mere animal wants.
But in every change goodness and affection can find field for exertion anddisplay. Among some these changes produced a devotion and sacrifice of selfat once graceful and heroic. It was a sight for the lovers of the humanrace to enjoy; to behold, as in ancient times, the patriarchal modes inwhich the variety of kindred and friendship fulfilled their duteous andkindly offices. Youths, nobles of the land, performed for the sake ofmother or sister, the services of menials with amiable cheerfulness. Theywent to the river to break the ice, and draw water: they assembled onforaging expeditions, or axe in hand felled the trees for fuel. The femalesreceived them on their return with the simple and affectionate welcomeknown before only to the lowly cottage--a clean hearth and bright fire;the supper ready cooked by beloved hands; gratitude for the provision forto-morrow's meal: strange enjoyments for the high-born English, yet theywere now their sole, hard earned, and dearly prized luxuries.
None was more conspicuous for this graceful submission to circumstances,noble humility, and ingenious fancy to adorn such acts with romanticcolouring, than our own Clara. She saw my despondency, and the aching caresof Idris. Her perpetual study was to relieve us from labour and to spreadease and even elegance over our altered mode of life. We still had someattendants spared by disease, and warmly attached to us. But Clara wasjealous of their services; she would be sole handmaid of Idris, soleminister to the wants of her little cousins; nothing gave her so muchpleasure as our employing her in this way; she went beyond our desires,earnest, diligent, and unwearied,--
Abra was ready ere we called her name, And though we called another, Abra came.[2]
It was my task each day to visit the various families assembled in ourtown, and when the weather permitted, I was glad to prolong my ride, and tomuse in solitude over every changeful appearance of our destiny,endeavouring to gather lessons for the future from the experience of thepast. The impatience with which, while in society, the ills that afflictedmy species inspired me, were softened by loneliness, when individualsuffering was merged in the general calamity, strange to say, lessafflicting to contemplate. Thus often, pushing my way with difficultythrough the narrow snow-blocked town, I crossed the bridge and passedthrough Eton. No youthful congregation of gallant-hearted boys thronged theportal of the college; sad silence pervaded the busy school-room and noisyplayground. I extended my ride towards Salt Hill, on every side impeded bythe snow. Were those the fertile fields I loved--was that the interchangeof gentle upland and cultivated dale, once covered with waving corn,diversified by stately trees, watered by the meandering Thames? One sheetof white covered it, while bitter recollection told me that cold as thewinter-clothed earth, were the hearts of the inhabitants. I met troops ofhorses
, herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, wandering at will; here throwingdown a hay-rick, and nestling from cold in its heart, which afforded themshelter and food--there having taken possession of a vacant cottage. Onceon a frosty day, pushed on by restless unsatisfying reflections, I sought afavourite haunt, a little wood not far distant from Salt Hill. A bubblingspring prattles over stones on one side, and a plantation of a few elms andbeeches, hardly deserve, and yet continue the name of wood. This spot hadfor me peculiar charms. It had been a favourite resort of Adrian; it wassecluded; and he often said that in boyhood, his happiest hours were spenthere; having escaped the stately bondage of his mother, he sat on the roughhewn steps that led to the spring, now reading a favourite book, nowmusing, with speculation beyond his years, on the still unravelled skein ofmorals or metaphysics. A melancholy foreboding assured me that I shouldnever see this place more; so with careful thought, I noted each tree,every winding of the streamlet and irregularity of the soil, that I mightbetter call up its idea in absence. A robin red-breast dropt from thefrosty branches of the trees, upon the congealed rivulet; its pantingbreast and half-closed eyes shewed that it was dying: a hawk appeared inthe air; sudden fear seized the little creature; it exerted its laststrength, throwing itself on its back, raising its talons in impotentdefence against its powerful enemy. I took it up and placed it in mybreast. I fed it with a few crumbs from a biscuit; by degrees it revived;its warm fluttering heart beat against me; I cannot tell why I detail thistrifling incident--but the scene is still before me; the snow-clad fieldsseen through the silvered trunks of the beeches,--the brook, in days ofhappiness alive with sparkling waters, now choked by ice--the leaflesstrees fantastically dressed in hoar frost--the shapes of summer leavesimaged by winter's frozen hand on the hard ground--the dusky sky, drearcold, and unbroken silence--while close in my bosom, my featherednursling lay warm, and safe, speaking its content with a light chirp--painful reflections thronged, stirring my brain with wild commotion--coldand death-like as the snowy fields was all earth--misery-stricken thelife-tide of the inhabitants--why should I oppose the cataract ofdestruction that swept us away?--why string my nerves and renew mywearied efforts--ah, why? But that my firm courage and cheerful exertionsmight shelter the dear mate, whom I chose in the spring of my life; thoughthe throbbings of my heart be replete with pain, though my hopes for thefuture are chill, still while your dear head, my gentlest love, can reposein peace on that heart, and while you derive from its fostering care,comfort, and hope, my struggles shall not cease,--I will not call myselfaltogether vanquished.
One fine February day, when the sun had reassumed some of its genial power,I walked in the forest with my family. It was one of those lovelywinter-days which assert the capacity of nature to bestow beauty onbarrenness. The leafless trees spread their fibrous branches against thepure sky; their intricate and pervious tracery resembled delicate sea-weed;the deer were turning up the snow in search of the hidden grass; the whitewas made intensely dazzling by the sun, and trunks of the trees, renderedmore conspicuous by the loss of preponderating foliage, gathered aroundlike the labyrinthine columns of a vast temple; it was impossible not toreceive pleasure from the sight of these things. Our children, freed fromthe bondage of winter, bounded before us; pursuing the deer, or rousing thepheasants and partridges from their coverts. Idris leant on my arm; hersadness yielded to the present sense of pleasure. We met other families onthe Long Walk, enjoying like ourselves the return of the genial season. Atonce, I seemed to awake; I cast off the clinging sloth of the past months;earth assumed a new appearance, and my view of the future was suddenly madeclear. I exclaimed, "I have now found out the secret!"
"What secret?"
In answer to this question, I described our gloomy winter-life, our sordidcares, our menial labours:--"This northern country," I said, "is no placefor our diminished race. When mankind were few, it was not here that theybattled with the powerful agents of nature, and were enabled to cover theglobe with offspring. We must seek some natural Paradise, some garden ofthe earth, where our simple wants may be easily supplied, and the enjoymentof a delicious climate compensate for the social pleasures we have lost. Ifwe survive this coming summer, I will not spend the ensuing winter inEngland; neither I nor any of us."
I spoke without much heed, and the very conclusion of what I said broughtwith it other thoughts. Should we, any of us, survive the coming summer? Isaw the brow of Idris clouded; I again felt, that we were enchained to thecar of fate, over whose coursers we had no control. We could no longer say,This we will do, and this we will leave undone. A mightier power than thehuman was at hand to destroy our plans or to achieve the work we avoided.It were madness to calculate upon another winter. This was our last. Thecoming summer was the extreme end of our vista; and, when we arrived there,instead of a continuation of the long road, a gulph yawned, into which wemust of force be precipitated. The last blessing of humanity was wrestedfrom us; we might no longer hope. Can the madman, as he clanks his chains,hope? Can the wretch, led to the scaffold, who when he lays his head on theblock, marks the double shadow of himself and the executioner, whoseuplifted arm bears the axe, hope? Can the ship-wrecked mariner, who spentwith swimming, hears close behind the splashing waters divided by a sharkwhich pursues him through the Atlantic, hope? Such hope as theirs, we alsomay entertain!
Old fable tells us, that this gentle spirit sprung from the box of Pandora,else crammed with evils; but these were unseen and null, while all admiredthe inspiriting loveliness of young Hope; each man's heart became her home;she was enthroned sovereign of our lives, here and here-after; she wasdeified and worshipped, declared incorruptible and everlasting. But likeall other gifts of the Creator to Man, she is mortal; her life has attainedits last hour. We have watched over her; nursed her flickering existence;now she has fallen at once from youth to decrepitude, from health toimmedicinable disease; even as we spend ourselves in struggles for herrecovery, she dies; to all nations the voice goes forth, Hope is dead! Weare but mourners in the funeral train, and what immortal essence orperishable creation will refuse to make one in the sad procession thatattends to its grave the dead comforter of humanity?
Does not the sun call in his light? and day Like a thin exhalation melt away-- Both wrapping up their beams in clouds to be Themselves close mourners at this obsequie.[3]
[1] Wordsworth.[2] Prior's "Solomon."[3] Cleveland's Poems.