The Last Man
CHAPTER V.
AFTER the repose of a few days, we held a council, to decide on our futuremovements. Our first plan had been to quit our wintry native latitude, andseek for our diminished numbers the luxuries and delights of a southernclimate. We had not fixed on any precise spot as the termination of ourwanderings; but a vague picture of perpetual spring, fragrant groves, andsparkling streams, floated in our imagination to entice us on. A variety ofcauses had detained us in England, and we had now arrived at the middle ofFebruary; if we pursued our original project, we should find ourselves in aworse situation than before, having exchanged our temperate climate for theintolerable heats of a summer in Egypt or Persia. We were therefore obligedto modify our plan, as the season continued to be inclement; and it wasdetermined that we should await the arrival of spring in our present abode,and so order our future movements as to pass the hot months in the icyvallies of Switzerland, deferring our southern progress until the ensuingautumn, if such a season was ever again to be beheld by us.
The castle and town of Versailles afforded our numbers ample accommodation,and foraging parties took it by turns to supply our wants. There was astrange and appalling motley in the situation of these the last of therace. At first I likened it to a colony, which borne over the far seas,struck root for the first time in a new country. But where was the bustleand industry characteristic of such an assemblage; the rudely constructeddwelling, which was to suffice till a more commodious mansion could bebuilt; the marking out of fields; the attempt at cultivation; the eagercuriosity to discover unknown animals and herbs; the excursions for thesake of exploring the country? Our habitations were palaces our food wasready stored in granaries--there was no need of labour, noinquisitiveness, no restless desire to get on. If we had been assured thatwe should secure the lives of our present numbers, there would have beenmore vivacity and hope in our councils. We should have discussed as to theperiod when the existing produce for man's sustenance would no longersuffice for us, and what mode of life we should then adopt. We should haveconsidered more carefully our future plans, and debated concerning the spotwhere we should in future dwell. But summer and the plague were near, andwe dared not look forward. Every heart sickened at the thought ofamusement; if the younger part of our community were ever impelled, byyouthful and untamed hilarity, to enter on any dance or song, to cheer themelancholy time, they would suddenly break off, checked by a mournful lookor agonizing sigh from any one among them, who was prevented by sorrows andlosses from mingling in the festivity. If laughter echoed under our roof,yet the heart was vacant of joy; and, when ever it chanced that I witnessedsuch attempts at pastime, they encreased instead of diminishing my sense ofwoe. In the midst of the pleasure-hunting throng, I would close my eyes,and see before me the obscure cavern, where was garnered the mortality ofIdris, and the dead lay around, mouldering in hushed repose. When I againbecame aware of the present hour, softest melody of Lydian flute, orharmonious maze of graceful dance, was but as the demoniac chorus in theWolf's Glen, and the caperings of the reptiles that surrounded the magiccircle.
My dearest interval of peace occurred, when, released from the obligationof associating with the crowd, I could repose in the dear home where mychildren lived. Children I say, for the tenderest emotions of paternitybound me to Clara. She was now fourteen; sorrow, and deep insight into thescenes around her, calmed the restless spirit of girlhood; while theremembrance of her father whom she idolized, and respect for me and Adrian,implanted an high sense of duty in her young heart. Though serious she wasnot sad; the eager desire that makes us all, when young, plume our wings,and stretch our necks, that we may more swiftly alight tiptoe on the heightof maturity, was subdued in her by early experience. All that she couldspare of overflowing love from her parents' memory, and attention to herliving relatives, was spent upon religion. This was the hidden law of herheart, which she concealed with childish reserve, and cherished the morebecause it was secret. What faith so entire, what charity so pure, whathope so fervent, as that of early youth? and she, all love, all tendernessand trust, who from infancy had been tossed on the wide sea of passion andmisfortune, saw the finger of apparent divinity in all, and her best hopewas to make herself acceptable to the power she worshipped. Evelyn was onlyfive years old; his joyous heart was incapable of sorrow, and he enlivenedour house with the innocent mirth incident to his years.
The aged Countess of Windsor had fallen from her dream of power, rank andgrandeur; she had been suddenly seized with the conviction, that love wasthe only good of life, virtue the only ennobling distinction and enrichingwealth. Such a lesson had been taught her by the dead lips of her neglecteddaughter; and she devoted herself, with all the fiery violence of hercharacter, to the obtaining the affection of the remnants of her family. Inearly years the heart of Adrian had been chilled towards her; and, thoughhe observed a due respect, her coldness, mixed with the recollection ofdisappointment and madness, caused him to feel even pain in her society.She saw this, and yet determined to win his love; the obstacle served therather to excite her ambition. As Henry, Emperor of Germany, lay in thesnow before Pope Leo's gate for three winter days and nights, so did she inhumility wait before the icy barriers of his closed heart, till he, theservant of love, and prince of tender courtesy, opened it wide for heradmittance, bestowing, with fervency and gratitude, the tribute of filialaffection she merited. Her understanding, courage, and presence of mind,became powerful auxiliaries to him in the difficult task of ruling thetumultuous crowd, which were subjected to his control, in truth by a singlehair.
The principal circumstances that disturbed our tranquillity during thisinterval, originated in the vicinity of the impostor-prophet and hisfollowers. They continued to reside at Paris; but missionaries from amongthem often visited Versailles--and such was the power of assertions,however false, yet vehemently iterated, over the ready credulity of theignorant and fearful, that they seldom failed in drawing over to theirparty some from among our numbers. An instance of this nature comingimmediately under our notice, we were led to consider the miserable statein which we should leave our countrymen, when we should, at the approach ofsummer, move on towards Switzerland, and leave a deluded crew behind us inthe hands of their miscreant leader. The sense of the smallness of ournumbers, and expectation of decrease, pressed upon us; and, while it wouldbe a subject of congratulation to ourselves to add one to our party, itwould be doubly gratifying to rescue from the pernicious influence ofsuperstition and unrelenting tyranny, the victims that now, thoughvoluntarily enchained, groaned beneath it. If we had considered thepreacher as sincere in a belief of his own denunciations, or onlymoderately actuated by kind feeling in the exercise of his assumed powers,we should have immediately addressed ourselves to him, and endeavoured withour best arguments to soften and humanize his views. But he was instigatedby ambition, he desired to rule over these last stragglers from the fold ofdeath; his projects went so far, as to cause him to calculate that, if,from these crushed remains, a few survived, so that a new race shouldspring up, he, by holding tight the reins of belief, might be remembered bythe post-pestilential race as a patriarch, a prophet, nay a deity; such asof old among the post-diluvians were Jupiter the conqueror, Serapis thelawgiver, and Vishnou the preserver. These ideas made him inflexible in hisrule, and violent in his hate of any who presumed to share with him hisusurped empire.
It is a strange fact, but incontestible, that the philanthropist, whoardent in his desire to do good, who patient, reasonable and gentle, yetdisdains to use other argument than truth, has less influence over men'sminds, than he who, grasping and selfish, refuses not to adopt any means,nor awaken any passion, nor diffuse any falsehood, for the advancement ofhis cause. If this from time immemorial has been the case, the contrast wasinfinitely greater, now that the one could bring harrowing fears andtranscendent hopes into play; while the other had few hopes to hold forth,nor could influence the imagination to diminish the fears which he himselfwas the first to entertain. The preacher had persua
ded his followers, thattheir escape from the plague, the salvation of their children, and the riseof a new race of men from their seed, depended on their faith in, and theirsubmission to him. They greedily imbibed this belief; and theirover-weening credulity even rendered them eager to make converts to thesame faith.
How to seduce any individuals from such an alliance of fraud, was afrequent subject of Adrian's meditations and discourse. He formed manyplans for the purpose; but his own troop kept him in full occupation toensure their fidelity and safety; beside which the preacher was as cautiousand prudent, as he was cruel. His victims lived under the strictest rulesand laws, which either entirely imprisoned them within the Tuileries, orlet them out in such numbers, and under such leaders, as precluded thepossibility of controversy. There was one among them however whom Iresolved to save; she had been known to us in happier days; Idris had lovedher; and her excellent nature made it peculiarly lamentable that she shouldbe sacrificed by this merciless cannibal of souls.
This man had between two and three hundred persons enlisted under hisbanners. More than half of them were women; there were about fifty childrenof all ages; and not more than eighty men. They were mostly drawn from thatwhich, when such distinctions existed, was denominated the lower rank ofsociety. The exceptions consisted of a few high-born females, who,panic-struck, and tamed by sorrow, had joined him. Among these was one,young, lovely, and enthusiastic, whose very goodness made her a more easyvictim. I have mentioned her before: Juliet, the youngest daughter, and nowsole relic of the ducal house of L---. There are some beings, whom fateseems to select on whom to pour, in unmeasured portion, the vials of herwrath, and whom she bathes even to the lips in misery. Such a one was theill-starred Juliet. She had lost her indulgent parents, her brothers andsisters, companions of her youth; in one fell swoop they had been carriedoff from her. Yet she had again dared to call herself happy; united to heradmirer, to him who possessed and filled her whole heart, she yielded tothe lethean powers of love, and knew and felt only his life and presence.At the very time when with keen delight she welcomed the tokens ofmaternity, this sole prop of her life failed, her husband died of theplague. For a time she had been lulled in insanity; the birth of her childrestored her to the cruel reality of things, but gave her at the same timean object for whom to preserve at once life and reason. Every friend andrelative had died off, and she was reduced to solitude and penury; deepmelancholy and angry impatience distorted her judgment, so that she couldnot persuade herself to disclose her distress to us. When she heard of theplan of universal emigration, she resolved to remain behind with herchild, and alone in wide England to live or die, as fate might decree,beside the grave of her beloved. She had hidden herself in one of the manyempty habitations of London; it was she who rescued my Idris on the fataltwentieth of November, though my immediate danger, and the subsequentillness of Idris, caused us to forget our hapless friend. This circumstancehad however brought her again in contact with her fellow-creatures; aslight illness of her infant, proved to her that she was still bound tohumanity by an indestructible tie; to preserve this little creature's lifebecame the object of her being, and she joined the first division ofmigrants who went over to Paris.
She became an easy prey to the methodist; her sensibility and acute fearsrendered her accessible to every impulse; her love for her child made hereager to cling to the merest straw held out to save him. Her mind, onceunstrung, and now tuned by roughest inharmonious hands, made her credulous:beautiful as fabled goddess, with voice of unrivalled sweetness, burningwith new lighted enthusiasm, she became a stedfast proselyte, and powerfulauxiliary to the leader of the elect. I had remarked her in the crowd, onthe day we met on the Place Vendome; and, recollecting suddenly herprovidential rescue of my lost one, on the night of the twentieth ofNovember, I reproached myself for my neglect and ingratitude, and feltimpelled to leave no means that I could adopt untried, to recall her to herbetter self, and rescue her from the fangs of the hypocrite destroyer.
I will not, at this period of my story, record the artifices I used topenetrate the asylum of the Tuileries, or give what would be a tediousaccount of my stratagems, disappointments, and perseverance. I at lastsucceeded in entering these walls, and roamed its halls and corridors ineager hope to find my selected convert. In the evening I contrived tomingle unobserved with the congregation, which assembled in the chapel tolisten to the crafty and eloquent harangue of their prophet. I saw Julietnear him. Her dark eyes, fearfully impressed with the restless glare ofmadness, were fixed on him; she held her infant, not yet a year old, in herarms; and care of it alone could distract her attention from the words towhich she eagerly listened. After the sermon was over, the congregationdispersed; all quitted the chapel except she whom I sought; her babe hadfallen asleep; so she placed it on a cushion, and sat on the floor beside,watching its tranquil slumber.
I presented myself to her; for a moment natural feeling produced asentiment of gladness, which disappeared again, when with ardent andaffectionate exhortation I besought her to accompany me in flight from thisden of superstition and misery. In a moment she relapsed into the deliriumof fanaticism, and, but that her gentle nature forbade, would have loadedme with execrations. She conjured me, she commanded me to leave her--"Beware, O beware," she cried, "fly while yet your escape is practicable.Now you are safe; but strange sounds and inspirations come on me at times,and if the Eternal should in awful whisper reveal to me his will, that tosave my child you must be sacrificed, I would call in the satellites of himyou call the tyrant; they would tear you limb from limb; nor would I hallowthe death of him whom Idris loved, by a single tear."
She spoke hurriedly, with tuneless voice, and wild look; her child awoke,and, frightened, began to cry; each sob went to the ill-fated mother'sheart, and she mingled the epithets of endearment she addressed to herinfant, with angry commands that I should leave her. Had I had the means, Iwould have risked all, have torn her by force from the murderer's den, andtrusted to the healing balm of reason and affection. But I had no choice,no power even of longer struggle; steps were heard along the gallery, andthe voice of the preacher drew near. Juliet, straining her child in a closeembrace, fled by another passage. Even then I would have followed her; butmy foe and his satellites entered; I was surrounded, and taken prisoner.
I remembered the menace of the unhappy Juliet, and expected the fulltempest of the man's vengeance, and the awakened wrath of his followers, tofall instantly upon me. I was questioned. My answers were simple andsincere. "His own mouth condemns him," exclaimed the impostor; "heconfesses that his intention was to seduce from the way of salvation ourwell-beloved sister in God; away with him to the dungeon; to-morrow he diesthe death; we are manifestly called upon to make an example, tremendous andappalling, to scare the children of sin from our asylum of the saved."
My heart revolted from his hypocritical jargon: but it was unworthy of meto combat in words with the ruffian; and my answer was cool; while, farfrom being possessed with fear, methought, even at the worst, a man true tohimself, courageous and determined, could fight his way, even from theboards of the scaffold, through the herd of these misguided maniacs."Remember," I said, "who I am; and be well assured that I shall not dieunavenged. Your legal magistrate, the Lord Protector, knew of my design,and is aware that I am here; the cry of blood will reach him, and you andyour miserable victims will long lament the tragedy you are about to act."
My antagonist did not deign to reply, even by a look;--"You know yourduty," he said to his comrades,--"obey."
In a moment I was thrown on the earth, bound, blindfolded, and hurried away--liberty of limb and sight was only restored to me, when, surrounded bydungeon-walls, dark and impervious, I found myself a prisoner and alone.
Such was the result of my attempt to gain over the proselyte of this man ofcrime; I could not conceive that he would dare put me to death.--Yet Iwas in his hands; the path of his ambition had ever been dark and cruel;his power was founded upon fear; the one word which might cause
me to die,unheard, unseen, in the obscurity of my dungeon, might be easier to speakthan the deed of mercy to act. He would not risk probably a publicexecution; but a private assassination would at once terrify any of mycompanions from attempting a like feat, at the same time that a cautiousline of conduct might enable him to avoid the enquiries and the vengeanceof Adrian.
Two months ago, in a vault more obscure than the one I now inhabited, I hadrevolved the design of quietly laying me down to die; now I shuddered atthe approach of fate. My imagination was busied in shaping forth the kindof death he would inflict. Would he allow me to wear out life with famine;or was the food administered to me to be medicined with death? Would hesteal on me in my sleep; or should I contend to the last with my murderers,knowing, even while I struggled, that I must be overcome? I lived upon anearth whose diminished population a child's arithmetic might number; I hadlived through long months with death stalking close at my side, while atintervals the shadow of his skeleton-shape darkened my path. I had believedthat I despised the grim phantom, and laughed his power to scorn.
Any other fate I should have met with courage, nay, have gone out gallantlyto encounter. But to be murdered thus at the midnight hour by cold-bloodedassassins, no friendly hand to close my eyes, or receive my partingblessing--to die in combat, hate and execration--ah, why, my angellove, didst thou restore me to life, when already I had stepped within theportals of the tomb, now that so soon again I was to be flung back amangled corpse!
Hours passed--centuries. Could I give words to the many thoughts whichoccupied me in endless succession during this interval, I should fillvolumes. The air was dank, the dungeon-floor mildewed and icy cold; hungercame upon me too, and no sound reached me from without. To-morrow theruffian had declared that I should die. When would to-morrow come? Was itnot already here?
My door was about to be opened. I heard the key turn, and the bars andbolts slowly removed. The opening of intervening passages permitted soundsfrom the interior of the palace to reach me; and I heard the clock strikeone. They come to murder me, I thought; this hour does not befit a publicexecution. I drew myself up against the wall opposite the entrance; Icollected my forces, I rallied my courage, I would not fall a tame prey.Slowly the door receded on its hinges--I was ready to spring forward toseize and grapple with the intruder, till the sight of who it was changedat once the temper of my mind. It was Juliet herself; pale and tremblingshe stood, a lamp in her hand, on the threshold of the dungeon, looking atme with wistful countenance. But in a moment she re-assumed herself-possession; and her languid eyes recovered their brilliancy. She said,"I am come to save you, Verney."
"And yourself also," I cried: "dearest friend, can we indeed be saved?"
"Not a word," she replied, "follow me!"
I obeyed instantly. We threaded with light steps many corridors, ascendedseveral flights of stairs, and passed through long galleries; at the end ofone she unlocked a low portal; a rush of wind extinguished our lamp; but,in lieu of it, we had the blessed moon-beams and the open face of heaven.Then first Juliet spoke:--"You are safe," she said, "God bless you!--farewell!"
I seized her reluctant hand--"Dear friend," I cried, "misguided victim,do you not intend to escape with me? Have you not risked all infacilitating my flight? and do you think, that I will permit you to return,and suffer alone the effects of that miscreant's rage? Never!"
"Do not fear for me," replied the lovely girl mournfully, "and do notimagine that without the consent of our chief you could be without thesewalls. It is he that has saved you; he assigned to me the part of leadingyou hither, because I am best acquainted with your motives for coming here,and can best appreciate his mercy in permitting you to depart."
"And are you," I cried, "the dupe of this man? He dreads me alive as anenemy, and dead he fears my avengers. By favouring this clandestine escapehe preserves a shew of consistency to his followers; but mercy is far fromhis heart. Do you forget his artifices, his cruelty, and fraud? As I amfree, so are you. Come, Juliet, the mother of our lost Idris will welcomeyou, the noble Adrian will rejoice to receive you; you will find peace andlove, and better hopes than fanaticism can afford. Come, and fear not; longbefore day we shall be at Versailles; close the door on this abode of crime--come, sweet Juliet, from hypocrisy and guilt to the society of theaffectionate and good."
I spoke hurriedly, but with fervour: and while with gentle violence I drewher from the portal, some thought, some recollection of past scenes ofyouth and happiness, made her listen and yield to me; suddenly she brokeaway with a piercing shriek:--"My child, my child! he has my child; mydarling girl is my hostage."
She darted from me into the passage; the gate closed between us--she wasleft in the fangs of this man of crime, a prisoner, still to inhale thepestilential atmosphere which adhered to his demoniac nature; the unimpededbreeze played on my cheek, the moon shone graciously upon me, my path wasfree. Glad to have escaped, yet melancholy in my very joy, I retrod mysteps to Versailles.