by Robert Reed
have been the object almost of adoration, for her virtues were as
eminent as her defects . All the genius that ennobled the blood of her
father illustrated hers; a generous tide flowed in her veins; artifice,
envy, or meanness, were at the antipodes of her nature; her counte-
nance, when enlightened by amiable feeling, might have belonged
to a queen of nations; her eyes were bright; her look fearless .
Although by our situation and dispositions we were almost equal-
ly cut off from the usual forms of social intercourse, we formed a
strong contrast to each other . I always required the stimulants of
companionship and applause. Perdita was all-sufficient to herself.
Notwithstanding my lawless habits, my disposition was sociable,
hers recluse . My life was spent among tangible realities, hers was
a dream . I might be said even to love my enemies, since by excit-
ing me they in a sort bestowed happiness upon me; Perdita almost
disliked her friends, for they interfered with her visionary moods .
All my feelings, even of exultation and triumph, were changed to
bitterness, if unparticipated; Perdita, even in joy, fled to loneliness,
and could go on from day to day, neither expressing her emotions,
nor seeking a fellow-feeling in another mind . Nay, she could love
and dwell with tenderness on the look and voice of her friend, while
her demeanour expressed the coldest reserve . A sensation with her
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 830
became a sentiment, and she never spoke until she had mingled her
perceptions of outward objects with others which were the native
growth of her own mind . She was like a fruitful soil that imbibed
the airs and dews of heaven, and gave them forth again to light in
loveliest forms of fruits and flowers; but then she was often dark and
rugged as that soil, raked up, and new sown with unseen seed .
She dwelt in a cottage whose trim grass-plat sloped down to the
waters of the lake of Ulswater; a beech wood stretched up the hill
behind, and a purling brook gently falling from the acclivity ran
through poplar-shaded banks into the lake . I lived with a farmer
whose house was built higher up among the hills: a dark crag rose
behind it, and, exposed to the north, the snow lay in its crevices the
summer through. Before dawn I led my flock to the sheep-walks, and
guarded them through the day . It was a life of toil; for rain and cold
were more frequent than sunshine; but it was my pride to contemn
the elements . My trusty dog watched the sheep as I slipped away
to the rendezvous of my comrades, and thence to the accomplish-
ment of our schemes . At noon we met again, and we threw away in
contempt our peasant fare, as we built our fire-place and kindled the
cheering blaze destined to cook the game stolen from the neighbour-
ing preserves . Then came the tale of hair-breadth escapes, combats
with dogs, ambush and flight, as gipsey-like we encompassed our
pot . The search after a stray lamb, or the devices by which we elude
or endeavoured to elude punishment, filled up the hours of after-
noon; in the evening my flock went to its fold, and I to my sister.
It was seldom indeed that we escaped, to use an old-fashioned
phrase, scot free . Our dainty fare was often exchanged for blows
and imprisonment . Once, when thirteen years of age, I was sent for
a month to the county jail . I came out, my morals unimproved, my
hatred to my oppressors encreased tenfold . Bread and water did not
tame my blood, nor solitary confinement inspire me with gentle
thoughts . I was angry, impatient, miserable; my only happy hours
were those during which I devised schemes of revenge; these were
perfected in my forced solitude, so that during the whole of the fol-
lowing season, and I was freed early in September, I never failed to
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 831
provide excellent and plenteous fare for myself and my comrades .
This was a glorious winter . The sharp frost and heavy snows tamed
the animals, and kept the country gentlemen by their firesides; we
got more game than we could eat, and my faithful dog grew sleek
upon our refuse .
Thus years passed on; and years only added fresh love of free-
dom, and contempt for all that was not as wild and rude as myself .
At the age of sixteen I had shot up in appearance to man’s estate; I
was tall and athletic; I was practised to feats of strength, and inured
to the inclemency of the elements . My skin was embrowned by the
sun; my step was firm with conscious power. I feared no man, and
loved none . In after life I looked back with wonder to what I then
was; how utterly worthless I should have become if I had pursued
my lawless career . My life was like that of an animal, and my mind
was in danger of degenerating into that which informs brute nature .
Until now, my savage habits had done me no radical mischief; my
physical powers had grown up and flourished under their influence,
and my mind, undergoing the same discipline, was imbued with
all the hardy virtues . But now my boasted independence was daily
instigating me to acts of tyranny, and freedom was becoming licen-
tiousness . I stood on the brink of manhood; passions, strong as the
trees of a forest, had already taken root within me, and were about to
shadow with their noxious overgrowth, my path of life .
I panted for enterprises beyond my childish exploits, and formed
distempered dreams of future action . I avoided my ancient com-
rades, and I soon lost them . They arrived at the age when they were
sent to fulfil their destined situations in life; while I, an outcast, with
none to lead or drive me forward, paused . The old began to point
at me as an example, the young to wonder at me as a being distinct
from themselves; I hated them, and began, last and worst degrada-
tion, to hate myself . I clung to my ferocious habits, yet half despised
them; I continued my war against civilization, and yet entertained a
wish to belong to it .
I revolved again and again all that I remembered my mother to
have told me of my father’s former life; I contemplated the few
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 832
relics I possessed belonging to him, which spoke of greater refine-
ment than could be found among the mountain cottages; but nothing
in all this served as a guide to lead me to another and pleasanter
way of life . My father had been connected with nobles, but all I
knew of such connection was subsequent neglect . The name of the
king,—he to whom my dying father had addressed his latest prayers,
and who had barbarously slighted them, was associated only with
the ideas of unkindness, injustice, and consequent resentment . I was
born for something greater than I was—and greater I would become;
but greatness, at least to my distorted perceptions, was no neces-
sary associate of goodness, and my wild thoughts were unchecked
by moral considerations when they rioted in dreams of distinction .
Thus I stood upon a pinnacle, a sea of evil rolled at my feet; I w
as
about to precipitate myself into it, and rush like a torrent over all
obstructions to the object of my wishes— when a stranger influence
came over the current of my fortunes, and changed their boisterous
course to what was in comparison like the gentle meanderings of a
meadow-encircling streamlet .
CHAPTER II.
I lived far from the busy haunts of men, and the rumour of wars
or political changes came worn to a mere sound, to our mountain
abodes . England had been the scene of momentous struggles, dur-
ing my early boyhood . In the year 2073, the last of its kings, the
ancient friend of my father, had abdicated in compliance with the
gentle force of the remonstrances of his subjects, and a republic was
instituted . Large estates were secured to the dethroned monarch and
his family; he received the title of Earl of Windsor, and Windsor
Castle, an ancient royalty, with its wide demesnes were a part of his
allotted wealth . He died soon after, leaving two children, a son and
a daughter .
The ex-queen, a princess of the house of Austria, had long im-
pelled her husband to withstand the necessity of the times . She was
haughty and fearless; she cherished a love of power, and a bitter
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 833
contempt for him who had despoiled himself of a kingdom . For
her children’s sake alone she consented to remain, shorn of regal-
ity, a member of the English republic . When she became a widow,
she turned all her thoughts to the educating her son Adrian, second
Earl of Windsor, so as to accomplish her ambitious ends; and with
his mother’s milk he imbibed, and was intended to grow up in the
steady purpose of re-acquiring his lost crown. Adrian was now fif-
teen years of age . He was addicted to study, and imbued beyond his
years with learning and talent: report said that he had already begun
to thwart his mother’s views, and to entertain republican principles .
However this might be, the haughty Countess entrusted none with
the secrets of her family-tuition . Adrian was bred up in solitude,
and kept apart from the natural companions of his age and rank .
Some unknown circumstance now induced his mother to send him
from under her immediate tutelage; and we heard that he was about
to visit Cumberland . A thousand tales were rife, explanatory of the
Countess of Windsor’s conduct; none true probably; but each day it
became more certain that we should have the noble scion of the late
regal house of England among us .
There was a large estate with a mansion attached to it, belonging
to this family, at Ulswater . A large park was one of its appendages,
laid out with great taste, and plentifully stocked with game . I had
often made depredations on these preserves; and the neglected state
of the property facilitated my incursions . When it was decided that
the young Earl of Windsor should visit Cumberland, workmen ar-
rived to put the house and grounds in order for his reception . The
apartments were restored to their pristine splendour, and the park,
all disrepairs restored, was guarded with unusual care .
I was beyond measure disturbed by this intelligence . It roused
all my dormant recollections, my suspended sentiments of injury,
and gave rise to the new one of revenge . I could no longer attend to
my occupations; all my plans and devices were forgotten; I seemed
about to begin life anew, and that under no good auspices . The tug
of war, I thought, was now to begin . He would come triumphantly
to the district to which my parent had fled broken-hearted; he would
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 834
find the ill-fated offspring, bequeathed with such vain confidence
to his royal father, miserable paupers . That he should know of our
existence, and treat us, near at hand, with the same contumely which
his father had practised in distance and absence, appeared to me the
certain consequence of all that had gone before . Thus then I should
meet this titled stripling—the son of my father’s friend . He would
be hedged in by servants; nobles, and the sons of nobles, were his
companions; all England rang with his name; and his coming, like
a thunderstorm, was heard from far: while I, unlettered and unfash-
ioned, should, if I came in contact with him, in the judgment of his
courtly followers, bear evidence in my very person to the propriety
of that ingratitude which had made me the degraded being I ap-
peared .
With my mind fully occupied by these ideas, I might be said as if
fascinated, to haunt the destined abode of the young Earl . I watched
the progress of the improvements, and stood by the unlading wag-
gons, as various articles of luxury, brought from London, were taken
forth and conveyed into the mansion . It was part of the Ex-Queen’s
plan, to surround her son with princely magnificence. I beheld rich
carpets and silken hangings, ornaments of gold, richly embossed
metals, emblazoned furniture, and all the appendages of high rank
arranged, so that nothing but what was regal in splendour should
reach the eye of one of royal descent . I looked on these; I turned
my gaze to my own mean dress .—Whence sprung this difference?
Whence but from ingratitude, from falsehood, from a dereliction on
the part of the prince’s father, of all noble sympathy and generous
feeling . Doubtless, he also, whose blood received a mingling tide
from his proud mother—he, the acknowledged focus of the king-
dom’s wealth and nobility, had been taught to repeat my father’s
name with disdain, and to scoff at my just claims to protection . I
strove to think that all this grandeur was but more glaring infamy,
and that, by planting his gold-enwoven flag beside my tarnished and
tattered banner, he proclaimed not his superiority, but his debase-
ment . Yet I envied him . His stud of beautiful horses, his arms of
costly workmanship, the praise that attended him, the adoration,
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 835
ready servitor, high place and high esteem,—I considered them as
forcibly wrenched from me, and envied them all with novel and
tormenting bitterness .
To crown my vexation of spirit, Perdita, the visionary Perdita,
seemed to awake to real life with transport, when she told me that
the Earl of Windsor was about to arrive .
“And this pleases you?” I observed, moodily .
“Indeed it does, Lionel,” she replied; “I quite long to see him; he
is the descendant of our kings, the first noble of the land: every one
admires and loves him, and they say that his rank is his least merit;
he is generous, brave, and affable .”
“You have learnt a pretty lesson, Perdita,” said I, “and repeat it
so literally, that you forget the while the proofs we have of the Earl’s
virtues; his generosity to us is manifest in our plenty, his bravery
in the protection he affords us, his affability in the notice he takes
of us . His rank his least merit, do you say? Why, all his virtues are
derived
from his station only; because he is rich, he is called gener-
ous; because he is powerful, brave; because he is well served, he
is affable . Let them call him so, let all England believe him to be
thus—we know him—he is our enemy—our penurious, dastardly,
arrogant enemy; if he were gifted with one particle of the virtues
you call his, he would do justly by us, if it were only to shew, that if
he must strike, it should not be a fallen foe . His father injured my fa-
ther—his father, unassailable on his throne, dared despise him who
only stooped beneath himself, when he deigned to associate with the
royal ingrate . We, descendants from the one and the other, must be
enemies also. He shall find that I can feel my injuries; he shall learn
to dread my revenge!”
A few days after he arrived . Every inhabitant of the most mis-
erable cottage, went to swell the stream of population that poured
forth to meet him: even Perdita, in spite of my late philippic, crept
near the highway, to behold this idol of all hearts . I, driven half mad,
as I met party after party of the country people, in their holiday
best, descending the hills, escaped to their cloud-veiled summits,
and looking on the sterile rocks about me, exclaimed—“They do
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 836
not cry, long live the Earl!” Nor, when night came, accompanied by
drizzling rain and cold, would I return home; for I knew that each
cottage rang with the praises of Adrian; as I felt my limbs grow
numb and chill, my pain served as food for my insane aversion; nay,
I almost triumphed in it, since it seemed to afford me reason and
excuse for my hatred of my unheeding adversary . All was attributed
to him, for I confounded so entirely the idea of father and son, that
I forgot that the latter might be wholly unconscious of his parent’s
neglect of us; and as I struck my aching head with my hand, I cried:
“He shall hear of this! I will be revenged! I will not suffer like a
spaniel! He shall know, beggar and friendless as I am, that I will not
tamely submit to injury!” Each day, each hour added to these exag-
gerated wrongs. His praises were so many adder’s stings infixed in
my vulnerable breast . If I saw him at a distance, riding a beautiful
horse, my blood boiled with rage; the air seemed poisoned by his