by Robert Reed
the country,” said Ryland, “to lay so much stress upon words and
frippery; it is a question of nothing; of the new painting of carriage-
pannels and the embroidery of footmen’s coats .”
Yet could England indeed doff her lordly trappings, and be con-
tent with the democratic style of America? Were the pride of ances-
try, the patrician spirit, the gentle courtesies and refined pursuits,
splendid attributes of rank, to be erased among us? We were told that
this would not be the case; that we were by nature a poetical people,
a nation easily duped by words, ready to array clouds in splendour,
and bestow honour on the dust . This spirit we could never lose; and
it was to diffuse this concentrated spirit of birth, that the new law
was to be brought forward . We were assured that, when the name
and title of Englishman was the sole patent of nobility, we should
all be noble; that when no man born under English sway, felt an-
other his superior in rank, courtesy and refinement would become
the birth-right of all our countrymen . Let not England be so far dis-
graced, as to have it imagined that it can be without nobles, nature’s
true nobility, who bear their patent in their mien, who are from their
cradle elevated above the rest of their species, because they are bet-
ter than the rest . Among a race of independent, and generous, and
well educated men, in a country where the imagination is empress of
men’s minds, there needs be no fear that we should want a perpetual
succession of the high-born and lordly . That party, however, could
hardly yet be considered a minority in the kingdom, who extolled
the ornament of the column, “the Corinthian capital of polished
society;” they appealed to prejudices without number, to old attach-
ments and young hopes; to the expectation of thousands who might
one day become peers; they set up as a scarecrow, the spectre of all
that was sordid, mechanic and base in the commercial republics .
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The plague had come to Athens . Hundreds of English residents
returned to their own country . Raymond’s beloved Athenians, the
free, the noble people of the divinest town in Greece, fell like ripe
corn before the merciless sickle of the adversary . Its pleasant places
were deserted; its temples and palaces were converted into tombs;
its energies, bent before towards the highest objects of human ambi-
tion, were now forced to converge to one point, the guarding against
the innumerous arrows of the plague .
At any other time this disaster would have excited extreme com-
passion among us; but it was now passed over, while each mind
was engaged by the coming controversy . It was not so with me;
and the question of rank and right dwindled to insignificance in my
eyes, when I pictured the scene of suffering Athens . I heard of the
death of only sons; of wives and husbands most devoted; of the
rending of ties twisted with the heart’s fibres, of friend losing friend,
and young mothers mourning for their first born; and these moving
incidents were grouped and painted in my mind by the knowledge
of the persons, by my esteem and affection for the sufferers . It was
the admirers, friends, fellow soldiers of Raymond, families that had
welcomed Perdita to Greece, and lamented with her the loss of her
lord, that were swept away, and went to dwell with them in the un-
distinguishing tomb .
The plague at Athens had been preceded and caused by the con-
tagion from the East; and the scene of havoc and death continued
to be acted there, on a scale of fearful magnitude . A hope that the
visitation of the present year would prove the last, kept up the spirits
of the merchants connected with these countries; but the inhabitants
were driven to despair, or to a resignation which, arising from fa-
naticism, assumed the same dark hue . America had also received the
taint; and, were it yellow fever or plague, the epidemic was gifted
with a virulence before unfelt. The devastation was not confined to
the towns, but spread throughout the country; the hunter died in the
woods, the peasant in the corn-fields, and the fisher on his native
waters .
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 1030
A strange story was brought to us from the East, to which little
credit would have been given, had not the fact been attested by a
multitude of witnesses, in various parts of the world . On the twen-
ty-first of June, it was said that an hour before noon, a black sun
arose: an orb, the size of that luminary, but dark, defined, whose
beams were shadows, ascended from the west; in about an hour
it had reached the meridian, and eclipsed the bright parent of day .
Night fell upon every country, night, sudden, rayless, entire . The
stars came out, shedding their ineffectual glimmerings on the light-
widowed earth . But soon the dim orb passed from over the sun,
and lingered down the eastern heaven . As it descended, its dusky
rays crossed the brilliant ones of the sun, and deadened or distorted
them . The shadows of things assumed strange and ghastly shapes .
The wild animals in the woods took fright at the unknown shapes
figured on the ground. They fled they knew not whither; and the
citizens were filled with greater dread, at the convulsion which
“shook lions into civil streets;”—birds, strong-winged eagles, sud-
denly blinded, fell in the market-places, while owls and bats shewed
themselves welcoming the early night . Gradually the object of fear
sank beneath the horizon, and to the last shot up shadowy beams
into the otherwise radiant air . Such was the tale sent us from Asia,
from the eastern extremity of Europe, and from Africa as far west
as the Golden Coast . Whether this story were true or not, the ef-
fects were certain . Through Asia, from the banks of the Nile to the
shores of the Caspian, from the Hellespont even to the sea of Oman,
a sudden panic was driven. The men filled the mosques; the women,
veiled, hastened to the tombs, and carried offerings to the dead, thus
to preserve the living . The plague was forgotten, in this new fear
which the black sun had spread; and, though the dead multiplied,
and the streets of Ispahan, of Pekin, and of Delhi were strewed with
pestilence-struck corpses, men passed on, gazing on the ominous
sky, regardless of the death beneath their feet . The christians sought
their churches,—christian maidens, even at the feast of roses, clad
in white, with shining veils, sought, in long procession, the places
consecrated to their religion, filling the air with their hymns; while,
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 1031
ever and anon, from the lips of some poor mourner in the crowd, a
voice of wailing burst, and the rest looked up, fancying they could
discern the sweeping wings of angels, who passed over the earth,
lamenting the disasters about to fall on man .
In the sunny clime of Persia, in the crowded cities of China,
amidst the aromatic groves of Cashmere, and along the southern
shores of the Mediterranean, such scenes had place . Even in Greece
the tale of the sun of darkness encreased the fears and despair of
the dying multitude . We, in our cloudy isle, were far removed from
danger, and the only circumstance that brought these disasters at all
home to us, was the daily arrival of vessels from the east, crowded
with emigrants, mostly English; for the Moslems, though the fear
of death was spread keenly among them, still clung together; that,
if they were to die (and if they were, death would as readily meet
them on the homeless sea, or in far England, as in Persia,)— if they
were to die, their bones might rest in earth made sacred by the relics
of true believers . Mecca had never before been so crowded with pil-
grims; yet the Arabs neglected to pillage the caravans, but, humble
and weaponless, they joined the procession, praying Mahomet to
avert plague from their tents and deserts .
I cannot describe the rapturous delight with which I turned from
political brawls at home, and the physical evils of distant countries,
to my own dear home, to the selected abode of goodness and love;
to peace, and the interchange of every sacred sympathy . Had I never
quitted Windsor, these emotions would not have been so intense;
but I had in Greece been the prey of fear and deplorable change;
in Greece, after a period of anxiety and sorrow, I had seen depart
two, whose very names were the symbol of greatness and virtue .
But such miseries could never intrude upon the domestic circle left
to me, while, secluded in our beloved forest, we passed our lives
in tranquillity . Some small change indeed the progress of years
brought here; and time, as it is wont, stamped the traces of mortality
on our pleasures and expectations . Idris, the most affectionate wife,
sister and friend, was a tender and loving mother . The feeling was
not with her as with many, a pastime; it was a passion . We had had
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 1032
three children; one, the second in age, died while I was in Greece .
This had dashed the triumphant and rapturous emotions of maternity
with grief and fear . Before this event, the little beings, sprung from
herself, the young heirs of her transient life, seemed to have a sure
lease of existence; now she dreaded that the pitiless destroyer might
snatch her remaining darlings, as it had snatched their brother . The
least illness caused throes of terror; she was miserable if she were at
all absent from them; her treasure of happiness she had garnered in
their fragile being, and kept forever on the watch, lest the insidious
thief should as before steal these valued gems . She had fortunately
small cause for fear . Alfred, now nine years old, was an upright,
manly little fellow, with radiant brow, soft eyes, and gentle, though
independent disposition . Our youngest was yet in infancy; but his
downy cheek was sprinkled with the roses of health, and his unwea-
ried vivacity filled our halls with innocent laughter.
Clara had passed the age which, from its mute ignorance, was
the source of the fears of Idris . Clara was dear to her, to all . There
was so much intelligence combined with innocence, sensibility with
forbearance, and seriousness with perfect good-humour, a beauty so
transcendant, united to such endearing simplicity, that she hung like
a pearl in the shrine of our possessions, a treasure of wonder and
excellence .
At the beginning of winter our Alfred, now nine years of age, first
went to school at Eton . This appeared to him the primary step to-
wards manhood, and he was proportionably pleased . Community of
study and amusement developed the best parts of his character, his
steady perseverance, generosity, and well-governed firmness. What
deep and sacred emotions are excited in a father’s bosom, when he
first becomes convinced that his love for his child is not a mere in-
stinct, but worthily bestowed, and that others, less akin, participate
his approbation! It was supreme happiness to Idris and myself, to
find that the frankness which Alfred’s open brow indicated, the in-
telligence of his eyes, the tempered sensibility of his tones, were not
delusions, but indications of talents and virtues, which would “grow
with his growth, and strengthen with his strength .” At this period,
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the termination of an animal’s love for its offspring,—the true af-
fection of the human parent commences . We no longer look on this
dearest part of ourselves, as a tender plant which we must cherish, or
a plaything for an idle hour . We build now on his intellectual facul-
ties, we establish our hopes on his moral propensities . His weakness
still imparts anxiety to this feeling, his ignorance prevents entire
intimacy; but we begin to respect the future man, and to endeavour
to secure his esteem, even as if he were our equal . What can a parent
have more at heart than the good opinion of his child? In all our
transactions with him our honour must be inviolate, the integrity of
our relations untainted: fate and circumstance may, when he arrives
at maturity, separate us for ever—but, as his aegis in danger, his
consolation in hardship, let the ardent youth for ever bear with him
through the rough path of life, love and honour for his parents .
We had lived so long in the vicinity of Eton, that its population of
young folks was well known to us . Many of them had been Alfred’s
playmates, before they became his school-fellows . We now watched
this youthful congregation with redoubled interest . We marked the
difference of character among the boys, and endeavoured to read the
future man in the stripling . There is nothing more lovely, to which
the heart more yearns than a free-spirited boy, gentle, brave, and
generous . Several of the Etonians had these characteristics; all were
distinguished by a sense of honour, and spirit of enterprize; in some,
as they verged towards manhood, this degenerated into presump-
tion; but the younger ones, lads a little older than our own, were
conspicuous for their gallant and sweet dispositions .
Here were the future governors of England; the men, who, when
our ardour was cold, and our projects completed or destroyed for
ever, when, our drama acted, we doffed the garb of the hour, and
assumed the uniform of age, or of more equalizing death; here were
the beings who were to carry on the vast machine of society; here
were the lovers, husbands, fathers; here the landlord, the politician,
the soldier; some fancied that they were even now ready to appear
on the stage, eager to make one among the dramatis personae of
active life . It was not long since I was like one of these beardless
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 1034
aspirants; when my boy shall have obtained the place I now hold,
I shall have tottered into a grey-headed, wrinkled old man . Strange
system! riddle of the Sphynx, most awe-striking! that thus man re-
mains, while we the individuals pass away . Such
is, to borrow the
words of an eloquent and philosophic writer, “the mode of existence
decreed to a permanent body composed of transitory parts; wherein,
by the disposition of a stupendous wisdom, moulding together the
great mysterious incorporation of the human race, the whole, at one
time, is never old, or middle-aged, or young, but, in a condition
of unchangeable constancy, moves on through the varied tenour of
perpetual decay, fall, renovation, and progression .”5
Willingly do I give place to thee, dear Alfred! advance, offspring
of tender love, child of our hopes; advance a soldier on the road
to which I have been the pioneer! I will make way for thee . I have
already put off the carelessness of childhood, the unlined brow, and
springy gait of early years, that they may adorn thee . Advance; and I
will despoil myself still further for thy advantage . Time shall rob me
of the graces of maturity, shall take the fire from my eyes, and agility
from my limbs, shall steal the better part of life, eager expectation
and passionate love, and shower them in double portion on thy dear
head . Advance! avail thyself of the gift, thou and thy comrades; and
in the drama you are about to act, do not disgrace those who taught
you to enter on the stage, and to pronounce becomingly the parts
assigned to you! May your progress be uninterrupted and secure;
born during the spring-tide of the hopes of man, may you lead up the
summer to which no winter may succeed!
CHAPTER V.
Some disorder had surely crept into the course of the elements,
destroying their benignant influence. The wind, prince of air, raged
through his kingdom, lashing the sea into fury, and subduing the
rebel earth into some sort of obedience .
The God sends down his angry plagues from high,
5
Burke’s Reflections on the French Revolution.
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Famine and pestilence in heaps they die.
Again in vengeance of his wrath he falls
On their great hosts, and breaks their tottering walls;
Arrests their navies on the ocean’s plain,
And whelms their strength with mountains of the main.6
Their deadly power shook the flourishing countries of the south,
and during winter, even, we, in our northern retreat, began to quake
under their ill effects .