by Robert Reed
the boat .
I dismounted, and called to some sailors who were rowing about
the harbour to pull up, and take me into their skiff; Perdita at the
same moment alighted from her carriage—she seized my arm—
“Take me with you,” she cried; she was trembling and pale; Clara
clung to her—“You must not,” I said, “the sea is rough—he will
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 979
soon be here—do you not see his boat?” The little bark to which I
had beckoned had now pulled up; before I could stop her, Perdita,
assisted by the sailors was in it—Clara followed her mother—a
loud shout echoed from the crowd as we pulled out of the inner
harbour; while my sister at the prow, had caught hold of one of the
men who was using a glass, asking a thousand questions, careless of
the spray that broke over her, deaf, sightless to all, except the little
speck that, just visible on the top of the waves, evidently neared .
We approached with all the speed six rowers could give; the orderly
and picturesque dress of the soldiers on the beach, the sounds of
exulting music, the stirring breeze and waving flags, the unchecked
exclamations of the eager crowd, whose dark looks and foreign garb
were purely eastern; the sight of temple-crowned rock, the white
marble of the buildings glittering in the sun, and standing in bright
relief against the dark ridge of lofty mountains beyond; the near roar
of the sea, the splash of oars, and dash of spray, all steeped my soul
in a delirium, unfelt, unimagined in the common course of common
life . Trembling, I was unable to continue to look through the glass
with which I had watched the motion of the crew, when the frigate’s
boat had first been launched. We rapidly drew near, so that at length
the number and forms of those within could be discerned; its dark
sides grew big, and the splash of its oars became audible: I could
distinguish the languid form of my friend, as he half raised himself
at our approach .
Perdita’s questions had ceased; she leaned on my arm, panting
with emotions too acute for tears—our men pulled alongside the
other boat. As a last effort, my sister mustered her strength, her firm-
ness; she stepped from one boat to the other, and then with a shriek
she sprang towards Raymond, knelt at his side, and glueing her lips
to the hand she seized, her face shrouded by her long hair, gave
herself up to tears .
Raymond had somewhat raised himself at our approach, but it
was with difficulty that he exerted himself even thus much. With
sunken cheek and hollow eyes, pale and gaunt, how could I recog-
nize the beloved of Perdita? I continued awe-struck and mute—he
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 980
looked smilingly on the poor girl; the smile was his . A day of sun-
shine falling on a dark valley, displays its before hidden characteris-
tics; and now this smile, the same with which he first spoke love to
Perdita, with which he had welcomed the protectorate, playing on
his altered countenance, made me in my heart’s core feel that this
was Raymond .
He stretched out to me his other hand; I discerned the trace of
manacles on his bared wrist . I heard my sister’s sobs, and thought,
happy are women who can weep, and in a passionate caress disbur-
then the oppression of their feelings; shame and habitual restraint
hold back a man . I would have given worlds to have acted as in days
of boyhood, have strained him to my breast, pressed his hand to my
lips, and wept over him; my swelling heart choked me; the natural
current would not be checked; the big rebellious tears gathered in
my eyes; I turned aside, and they dropped in the sea—they came
fast and faster;—yet I could hardly be ashamed, for I saw that the
rough sailors were not unmoved, and Raymond’s eyes alone were
dry from among our crew . He lay in that blessed calm which conva-
lescence always induces, enjoying in secure tranquillity his liberty
and re-union with her whom he adored . Perdita at length subdued
her burst of passion, and rose, —she looked round for Clara; the
child frightened, not recognizing her father, and neglected by us,
had crept to the other end of the boat; she came at her mother’s call .
Perdita presented her to Raymond; her first words were: “Beloved,
embrace our child!”
“Come hither, sweet one,” said her father, “do you not know me?”
she knew his voice, and cast herself in his arms with half bashful but
uncontrollable emotion .
Perceiving the weakness of Raymond, I was afraid of ill con-
sequences from the pressure of the crowd on his landing . But they
were awed as I had been, at the change of his appearance . The mu-
sic died away, the shouts abruptly ended; the soldiers had cleared a
space in which a carriage was drawn up . He was placed in it; Perdita
and Clara entered with him, and his escort closed round it; a hol-
low murmur, akin to the roaring of the near waves, went through
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 981
the multitude; they fell back as the carriage advanced, and fearful
of injuring him they had come to welcome, by loud testimonies of
joy, they satisfied themselves with bending in a low salaam as the
carriage passed; it went slowly along the road of the Piraeus; passed
by antique temple and heroic tomb, beneath the craggy rock of the
citadel . The sound of the waves was left behind; that of the multi-
tude continued at intervals, supressed and hoarse; and though, in the
city, the houses, churches, and public buildings were decorated with
tapestry and banners—though the soldiery lined the streets, and the
inhabitants in thousands were assembled to give him hail, the same
solemn silence prevailed, the soldiery presented arms, the banners
vailed, many a white hand waved a streamer, and vainly sought to
discern the hero in the vehicle, which, closed and encompassed by
the city guards, drew him to the palace allotted for his abode .
Raymond was weak and exhausted, yet the interest he perceived
to be excited on his account, filled him with proud pleasure. He was
nearly killed with kindness . It is true, the populace retained them-
selves; but there arose a perpetual hum and bustle from the throng
round the palace, which added to the noise of fireworks, the frequent
explosion of arms, the tramp to and fro of horsemen and carriages,
to which effervescence he was the focus, retarded his recovery . So
we retired awhile to Eleusis, and here rest and tender care added
each day to the strength of our invalid . The zealous attention of
Perdita claimed the first rank in the causes which induced his rapid
recovery; but the second was surely the delight he felt in the affec-
tion and good will of the Greeks . We are said to love much those
whom we greatly benefit. Raymond had fought and conquered for
the Athenians; he had suffered, on their account, peril, imprison-
ment, and hardship; their gratitude affected him deeply, and he inly
vowed to unite his fate for e
ver to that of a people so enthusiastically
devoted to him .
Social feeling and sympathy constituted a marked feature in my
disposition . In early youth, the living drama acted around me, drew
me heart and soul into its vortex . I was now conscious of a change .
I loved, I hoped, I enjoyed; but there was something besides this . I
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 982
was inquisitive as to the internal principles of action of those around
me: anxious to read their thoughts justly, and for ever occupied in
divining their inmost mind . All events, at the same time that they
deeply interested me, arranged themselves in pictures before me . I
gave the right place to every personage in the groupe, the just bal-
ance to every sentiment . This undercurrent of thought, often soothed
me amidst distress, and even agony . It gave ideality to that, from
which, taken in naked truth, the soul would have revolted: it be-
stowed pictorial colours on misery and disease, and not unfrequent-
ly relieved me from despair in deplorable changes . This faculty, or
instinct, was now rouzed . I watched the re-awakened devotion of
my sister; Clara’s timid, but concentrated admiration of her father,
and Raymond’s appetite for renown, and sensitiveness to the dem-
onstrations of affection of the Athenians . Attentively perusing this
animated volume, I was the less surprised at the tale I read on the
new-turned page .
The Turkish army were at this time besieging Rodosto; and the
Greeks, hastening their preparations, and sending each day rein-
forcements, were on the eve of forcing the enemy to battle . Each
people looked on the coming struggle as that which would be to a
great degree decisive; as, in case of victory, the next step would be
the siege of Constantinople by the Greeks . Raymond, being some-
what recovered, prepared to re-assume his command in the army .
Perdita did not oppose herself to his determination . She only stip-
ulated to be permitted to accompany him . She had set down no rule
of conduct for herself; but for her life she could not have opposed
his slightest wish, or do other than acquiesce cheerfully in all his
projects . One word, in truth, had alarmed her more than battles or
sieges, during which she trusted Raymond’s high command would
exempt him from danger . That word, as yet it was not more to her,
was PLAGUE . This enemy to the human race had begun early in
June to raise its serpent-head on the shores of the Nile; parts of Asia,
not usually subject to this evil, were infected . It was in Constanti-
nople; but as each year that city experienced a like visitation, small
attention was paid to those accounts which declared more people to
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 983
have died there already, than usually made up the accustomed prey
of the whole of the hotter months . However it might be, neither
plague nor war could prevent Perdita from following her lord, or
induce her to utter one objection to the plans which he proposed . To
be near him, to be loved by him, to feel him again her own, was the
limit of her desires . The object of her life was to do him pleasure:
it had been so before, but with a difference . In past times, without
thought or foresight she had made him happy, being so herself, and
in any question of choice, consulted her own wishes, as being one
with his . Now she sedulously put herself out of the question, sacri-
ficing even her anxiety for his health and welfare to her resolve not
to oppose any of his desires . Love of the Greek people, appetite for
glory, and hatred of the barbarian government under which he had
suffered even to the approach of death, stimulated him . He wished
to repay the kindness of the Athenians, to keep alive the splendid
associations connected with his name, and to eradicate from Europe
a power which, while every other nation advanced in civilization,
stood still, a monument of antique barbarism . Having effected the
reunion of Raymond and Perdita, I was eager to return to England;
but his earnest request, added to awakening curiosity, and an inde-
finable anxiety to behold the catastrophe, now apparently at hand, in
the long drawn history of Grecian and Turkish warfare, induced me
to consent to prolong until the autumn, the period of my residence
in Greece .
As soon as the health of Raymond was sufficiently re-established,
he prepared to join the Grecian camp, hear Kishan, a town of some
importance, situated to the east of the Hebrus; in which Perdita and
Clara were to remain until the event of the expected battle . We quit-
ted Athens on the 2nd of June . Raymond had recovered from the
gaunt and pallid looks of fever . If I no longer saw the fresh glow of
youth on his matured countenance, if care had besieged his brow,
“And dug deep trenches in his beauty’s field,” if his hair, slightly
mingled with grey, and his look, considerate even in its eagerness,
gave signs of added years and past sufferings, yet there was some-
thing irresistibly affecting in the sight of one, lately snatched from
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 984
the grave, renewing his career, untamed by sickness or disaster . The
Athenians saw in him, not as heretofore, the heroic boy or desperate
man, who was ready to die for them; but the prudent commander,
who for their sakes was careful of his life, and could make his own
warrior-propensities second to the scheme of conduct policy might
point out .
All Athens accompanied us for several miles . When he had land-
ed a month ago, the noisy populace had been hushed by sorrow and
fear; but this was a festival day to all . The air resounded with their
shouts; their picturesque costume, and the gay colours of which it
was composed, flaunted in the sunshine; their eager gestures and
rapid utterance accorded with their wild appearance . Raymond was
the theme of every tongue, the hope of each wife, mother or be-
trothed bride, whose husband, child, or lover, making a part of the
Greek army, were to be conducted to victory by him .
Notwithstanding the hazardous object of our journey, it was full
of romantic interest, as we passed through the vallies, and over the
hills, of this divine country . Raymond was inspirited by the intense
sensations of recovered health; he felt that in being general of the
Athenians, he filled a post worthy of his ambition; and, in his hope
of the conquest of Constantinople, he counted on an event which
would be as a landmark in the waste of ages, an exploit unequalled
in the annals of man; when a city of grand historic association, the
beauty of whose site was the wonder of the world, which for many
hundred years had been the strong hold of the Moslems, should be
rescued from slavery and barbarism, and restored to a people illus-
trious for genius, civilization, and a spirit of liberty . Perdita rested
on his restored society, on his love, his hopes and fame, even as a
Sybarite on a luxurious couch; every thought was transport, each
&
nbsp; emotion bathed as it were in a congenial and balmy element .
We arrived at Kishan on the 7th of July . The weather during our
journey had been serene . Each day, before dawn, we left our night’s
encampment, and watched the shadows as they retreated from hill
and valley, and the golden splendour of the sun’s approach . The ac-
companying soldiers received, with national vivacity, enthusiastic
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 985
pleasure from the sight of beautiful nature . The uprising of the star
of day was hailed by triumphant strains, while the birds, heard by
snatches, filled up the intervals of the music. At noon, we pitched
our tents in some shady valley, or embowering wood among the
mountains, while a stream prattling over pebbles induced grateful
sleep . Our evening march, more calm, was yet more delightful than
the morning restlessness of spirit . If the band played, involuntarily
they chose airs of moderated passion; the farewell of love, or lament
at absence, was followed and closed by some solemn hymn, which
harmonized with the tranquil loveliness of evening, and elevated
the soul to grand and religious thought . Often all sounds were sus-
pended, that we might listen to the nightingale, while the fire-flies
danced in bright measure, and the soft cooing of the aziolo spoke
of fair weather to the travellers . Did we pass a valley? Soft shades
encompassed us, and rocks tinged with beauteous hues . If we tra-
versed a mountain, Greece, a living map, was spread beneath, her
renowned pinnacles cleaving the ether; her rivers threading in silver
line the fertile land . Afraid almost to breathe, we English travel-
lers surveyed with extasy this splendid landscape, so different from
the sober hues and melancholy graces of our native scenery . When
we quitted Macedonia, the fertile but low plains of Thrace afforded
fewer beauties; yet our journey continued to be interesting . An ad-
vanced guard gave information of our approach, and the country
people were quickly in motion to do honour to Lord Raymond . The
villages were decorated by triumphal arches of greenery by day, and
lamps by night; tapestry waved from the windows, the ground was
strewed with flowers, and the name of Raymond, joined to that of
Greece, was echoed in the Evive of the peasant crowd .