The Plague, Pestilence & Apocalypse MEGAPACK™

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

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  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 .