by Robert Reed
After his motion had been seconded, Lord Raymond rose,—his
countenance bland, his voice softly melodious, his manner sooth-
ing, his grace and sweetness came like the mild breathing of a flute,
after the loud, organ-like voice of his adversary . He rose, he said, to
speak in favour of the honourable member’s motion, with one slight
amendment subjoined . He was ready to go back to old times, and
commemorate the contests of our fathers, and the monarch’s abdica-
tion . Nobly and greatly, he said, had the illustrious and last sovereign
of England sacrificed himself to the apparent good of his country,
and divested himself of a power which could only be maintained by
the blood of his subjects—these subjects named so no more, these,
his friends and equals, had in gratitude conferred certain favours
and distinctions on him and his family for ever . An ample estate
was allotted to them, and they took the first rank among the peers of
Great Britain . Yet it might be conjectured that they had not forgotten
their ancient heritage; and it was hard that his heir should suffer
alike with any other pretender, if he attempted to regain what by
ancient right and inheritance belonged to him . He did not say that he
should favour such an attempt; but he did say that such an attempt
would be venial; and, if the aspirant did not go so far as to declare
war, and erect a standard in the kingdom, his fault ought to be re-
garded with an indulgent eye . In his amendment he proposed, that
an exception should be made in the bill in favour of any person who
claimed the sovereign power in right of the earls of Windsor . Nor
did Raymond make an end without drawing in vivid and glowing
colours, the splendour of a kingdom, in opposition to the commer-
cial spirit of republicanism . He asserted, that each individual under
the English monarchy, was then as now, capable of attaining high
rank and power—with one only exception, that of the function of
chief magistrate; higher and nobler rank, than a bartering, timorous
commonwealth could afford . And for this one exception, to what did
it amount? The nature of riches and influence forcibly confined the
list of candidates to a few of the wealthiest; and it was much to be
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feared, that the ill-humour and contention generated by this triennial
struggle, would counterbalance its advantages in impartial eyes . I
can ill record the flow of language and graceful turns of expres-
sion, the wit and easy raillery that gave vigour and influence to his
speech. His manner, timid at first, became firm—his changeful face
was lit up to superhuman brilliancy; his voice, various as music, was
like that enchanting .
It were useless to record the debate that followed this harangue .
Party speeches were delivered, which clothed the question in cant,
and veiled its simple meaning in a woven wind of words . The mo-
tion was lost; Ryland withdrew in rage and despair; and Raymond,
gay and exulting, retired to dream of his future kingdom .
CHAPTER IV.
IS there such a feeling as love at first sight? And if there be, in
what does its nature differ from love founded in long observation
and slow growth? Perhaps its effects are not so permanent; but they
are, while they last, as violent and intense . We walk the pathless
mazes of society, vacant of joy, till we hold this clue, leading us
through that labyrinth to paradise . Our nature dim, like to an un-
lighted torch, sleeps in formless blank till the fire attain it; this life
of life, this light to moon, and glory to the sun . What does it matter,
whether the fire be struck from flint and steel, nourished with care
into a flame, slowly communicated to the dark wick, or whether
swiftly the radiant power of light and warmth passes from a kindred
power, and shines at once the beacon and the hope . In the deepest
fountain of my heart the pulses were stirred; around, above, beneath,
the clinging Memory as a cloak enwrapt me . In no one moment of
coming time did I feel as I had done in time gone by . The spirit of Id-
ris hovered in the air I breathed; her eyes were ever and for ever bent
on mine; her remembered smile blinded my faint gaze, and caused
me to walk as one, not in eclipse, not in darkness and vacancy—but
in a new and brilliant light, too novel, too dazzling for my human
senses . On every leaf, on every small division of the universe, (as
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on the hyacinth ai is engraved) was imprinted the talisman of my
existence—SHE LIVES! SHE IS! —I had not time yet to analyze
my feeling, to take myself to task, and leash in the tameless passion;
all was one idea, one feeling, one knowledge —it was my life!
But the die was cast—Raymond would marry Idris . The merry
marriage bells rung in my ears; I heard the nation’s gratulation
which followed the union; the ambitious noble uprose with swift
eagle-flight, from the lowly ground to regal supremacy—and to the
love of Idris . Yet, not so! She did not love him; she had called me
her friend; she had smiled on me; to me she had entrusted her heart’s
dearest hope, the welfare of Adrian. This reflection thawed my con-
gealing blood, and again the tide of life and love flowed impetuously
onward, again to ebb as my busy thoughts changed .
The debate had ended at three in the morning . My soul was in
tumults; I traversed the streets with eager rapidity . Truly, I was
mad that night— love—which I have named a giant from its birth,
wrestled with despair! My heart, the field of combat, was wounded
by the iron heel of the one, watered by the gushing tears of the other .
Day, hateful to me, dawned; I retreated to my lodgings—I threw
myself on a couch—I slept—was it sleep?—for thought was still
alive—love and despair struggled still, and I writhed with unendur-
able pain .
I awoke half stupefied; I felt a heavy oppression on me, but knew
not wherefore; I entered, as it were, the council-chamber of my brain,
and questioned the various ministers of thought therein assembled;
too soon I remembered all; too soon my limbs quivered beneath the
tormenting power; soon, too soon, I knew myself a slave!
Suddenly, unannounced, Lord Raymond entered my apartment .
He came in gaily, singing the Tyrolese song of liberty; noticed me
with a gracious nod, and threw himself on a sopha opposite the copy
of a bust of the Apollo Belvidere . After one or two trivial remarks,
to which I sullenly replied, he suddenly cried, looking at the bust,
“I am called like that victor! Not a bad idea; the head will serve for
my new coinage, and be an omen to all dutiful subjects of my future
success .”
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He said this in his most gay, yet benevolent manner, and smiled,
not disdainfully, but in playful mockery of himself . Then his counte-
nance suddenly darkened, and in that shrill tone peculiar to himself,
he cried, “I fought a good battle last night; higher co
nquest the plains
of Greece never saw me achieve. Now I am the first man in the state,
burthen of every ballad, and object of old women’s mumbled devo-
tions . What are your meditations? You, who fancy that you can read
the human soul, as your native lake reads each crevice and folding
of its surrounding hills—say what you think of me; king-expectant,
angel or devil, which?”
This ironical tone was discord to my bursting, over-boiling-heart;
I was nettled by his insolence, and replied with bitterness; “There
is a spirit, neither angel or devil, damned to limbo merely .” I saw
his cheeks become pale, and his lips whiten and quiver; his anger
served but to enkindle mine, and I answered with a determined look
his eyes which glared on me; suddenly they were withdrawn, cast
down, a tear, I thought, wetted the dark lashes; I was softened, and
with involuntary emotion added, “Not that you are such, my dear
lord .”
I paused, even awed by the agitation he evinced; “Yes,” he said
at length, rising and biting his lip, as he strove to curb his passion;
“Such am I! You do not know me, Verney; neither you, nor our audi-
ence of last night, nor does universal England know aught of me . I
stand here, it would seem, an elected king; this hand is about to grasp
a sceptre; these brows feel in each nerve the coming diadem . I ap-
pear to have strength, power, victory; standing as a dome-supporting
column stands; and I am—a reed! I have ambition, and that attains
its aim; my nightly dreams are realized, my waking hopes fulfilled;
a kingdom awaits my acceptance, my enemies are overthrown . But
here,” and he struck his heart with violence, “here is the rebel, here
the stumbling-block; this over-ruling heart, which I may drain of its
living blood; but, while one fluttering pulsation remains, I am its
slave .”
He spoke with a broken voice, then bowed his head, and, hid-
ing his face in his hands, wept . I was still smarting from my own
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disappointment; yet this scene oppressed me even to terror, nor
could I interrupt his access of passion . It subsided at length; and,
throwing himself on the couch, he remained silent and motionless,
except that his changeful features shewed a strong internal conflict.
At last he rose, and said in his usual tone of voice, “The time grows
on us, Verney, I must away . Let me not forget my chiefest errand
here . Will you accompany me to Windsor tomorrow? You will not
be dishonoured by my society, and as this is probably the last ser-
vice, or disservice you can do me, will you grant my request?”
He held out his hand with almost a bashful air . Swiftly I thought—
Yes, I will witness the last scene of the drama . Beside which, his
mien conquered me, and an affectionate sentiment towards him,
again filled my heart—I bade him command me. “Aye, that I will,”
said he gaily, “that’s my cue now; be with me tomorrow morning
by seven; be secret and faithful; and you shall be groom of the stole
ere long .”
So saying, he hastened away, vaulted on his horse, and with a
gesture as if he gave me his hand to kiss, bade me another laugh-
ing adieu . Left to myself, I strove with painful intensity to divine
the motive of his request and foresee the events of the coming day .
The hours passed on unperceived; my head ached with thought, the
nerves seemed teeming with the over full fraught—I clasped my
burning brow, as if my fevered hand could medicine its pain . I was
punctual to the appointed hour on the following day, and found Lord
Raymond waiting for me . We got into his carriage, and proceeded
towards Windsor . I had tutored myself, and was resolved by no out-
ward sign to disclose my internal agitation .
“What a mistake Ryland made,” said Raymond, “when he thought
to overpower me the other night . He spoke well, very well; such
an harangue would have succeeded better addressed to me singly,
than to the fools and knaves assembled yonder . Had I been alone,
I should have listened to him with a wish to hear reason, but when
he endeavoured to vanquish me in my own territory, with my own
weapons, he put me on my mettle, and the event was such as all
might have expected .”
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I smiled incredulously, and replied: “I am of Ryland’s way of
thinking, and will, if you please, repeat all his arguments; we shall
see how far you will be induced by them, to change the royal for the
patriotic style .”
“The repetition would be useless,” said Raymond, “since I well
remember them, and have many others, self-suggested, which speak
with unanswerable persuasion .”
He did not explain himself, nor did I make any remark on his
reply . Our silence endured for some miles, till the country with open
fields, or shady woods and parks, presented pleasant objects to our
view . After some observations on the scenery and seats, Raymond
said: “Philosophers have called man a microcosm of nature, and
find a reflection in the internal mind for all this machinery visibly at
work around us . This theory has often been a source of amusement
to me; and many an idle hour have I spent, exercising my ingenuity
in finding resemblances. Does not Lord Bacon say that, ‘the falling
from a discord to a concord, which maketh great sweetness in music,
hath an agreement with the affections, which are re-integrated to the
better after some dislikes?’ What a sea is the tide of passion, whose
fountains are in our own nature! Our virtues are the quick-sands,
which shew themselves at calm and low water; but let the waves
arise and the winds buffet them, and the poor devil whose hope was
in their durability, finds them sink from under him. The fashions of
the world, its exigencies, educations and pursuits, are winds to drive
our wills, like clouds all one way; but let a thunderstorm arise in the
shape of love, hate, or ambition, and the rack goes backward, stem-
ming the opposing air in triumph .”
“Yet,” replied I, “nature always presents to our eyes the appear-
ance of a patient: while there is an active principle in man which is
capable of ruling fortune, and at least of tacking against the gale, till
it in some mode conquers it .”
“There is more of what is specious than true in your distinc-
tion,” said my companion . “Did we form ourselves, choosing our
dispositions, and our powers? I find myself, for one, as a stringed
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instrument with chords and stops—but I have no power to turn the
pegs, or pitch my thoughts to a higher or lower key .”
“Other men,” I observed, “may be better musicians .”
“I talk not of others, but myself,” replied Raymond, “and I am as
fair an example to go by as another . I cannot set my heart to a par-
ticular tune, or run voluntary changes on my will . We are born; we
choose neither our parents, nor our station;
we are educated by oth-
ers, or by the world’s circumstance, and this cultivation, mingling
with our innate disposition, is the soil in which our desires, passions,
and motives grow .”
“There is much truth in what you say,” said I, “and yet no man
ever acts upon this theory . Who, when he makes a choice, says, Thus
I choose, because I am necessitated? Does he not on the contrary
feel a freedom of will within him, which, though you may call it
fallacious, still actuates him as he decides?”
“Exactly so,” replied Raymond, “another link of the breakless
chain . Were I now to commit an act which would annihilate my
hopes, and pluck the regal garment from my mortal limbs, to clothe
them in ordinary weeds, would this, think you, be an act of free-will
on my part?”
As we talked thus, I perceived that we were not going the ordi-
nary road to Windsor, but through Englefield Green, towards Bish-
opgate Heath . I began to divine that Idris was not the object of our
journey, but that I was brought to witness the scene that was to de-
cide the fate of Raymond—and of Perdita . Raymond had evidently
vacillated during his journey, and irresolution was marked in every
gesture as we entered Perdita’s cottage . I watched him curiously,
determined that, if this hesitation should continue, I would assist
Perdita to overcome herself, and teach her to disdain the wavering
love of him, who balanced between the possession of a crown, and
of her, whose excellence and affection transcended the worth of a
kingdom .
We found her in her flower-adorned alcove; she was reading
the newspaper report of the debate in parliament, that apparently
doomed her to hopelessness . That heart-sinking feeling was painted
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in her sunk eyes and spiritless attitude; a cloud was on her beauty,
and frequent sighs were tokens of her distress . This sight had an
instantaneous effect on Raymond; his eyes beamed with tenderness,
and remorse clothed his manners with earnestness and truth . He sat
beside her; and, taking the paper from her hand, said, “Not a word
more shall my sweet Perdita read of this contention of madmen and
fools . I must not permit you to be acquainted with the extent of
my delusion, lest you despise me; although, believe me, a wish to