The Last Man
through the vast fields of sky, received the golden colour of his
parting beams; the distant uplands shone out, and the busy hum of
evening came, harmonized by distance, on our ear. Adrian, who felt all
the fresh spirit infused by returning health, clasped his hands in
delight, and exclaimed with transport:
“O happy earth, and happy inhabitants of earth! A stately palace has
God built for you, O man! and worthy are you of your dwelling! Behold
the verdant carpet spread at our feet, and the azure canopy above; the
fields of earth which generate and nurture all things, and the track of
heaven, which contains and clasps all things. Now, at this evening
hour, at the period of repose and refection, methinks all hearts
breathe one hymn of love and thanksgiving, and we, like priests of old
on the mountain-tops, give a voice to their sentiment.
“Assuredly a most benignant power built up the majestic fabric we
inhabit, and framed the laws by which it endures. If mere existence,
and not happiness, had been the final end of our being, what need of
the profuse luxuries which we enjoy? Why should our dwelling place be
so lovely, and why should the instincts of nature minister pleasurable
sensations? The very sustaining of our animal machine is made
delightful; and our sustenance, the fruits of the field, is painted
with transcendant hues, endued with grateful odours, and palatable to
our taste. Why should this be, if HE were not good? We need houses to
protect us from the seasons, and behold the materials with which we are
provided; the growth of trees with their adornment of leaves; while
rocks of stone piled above the plains variegate the prospect with their
pleasant irregularity.
“Nor are outward objects alone the receptacles of the Spirit of Good.
Look into the mind of man, where wisdom reigns enthroned; where
imagination, the painter, sits, with his pencil dipt in hues lovelier
than those of sunset, adorning familiar life with glowing tints. What a
noble boon, worthy the giver, is the imagination! it takes from reality
its leaden hue: it envelopes all thought and sensation in a radiant
veil, and with an hand of beauty beckons us from the sterile seas of
life, to her gardens, and bowers, and glades of bliss. And is not love
a gift of the divinity? Love, and her child, Hope, which can bestow
wealth on poverty, strength on the weak, and happiness on the
sorrowing.
“My lot has not been fortunate. I have consorted long with grief,
entered the gloomy labyrinth of madness, and emerged, but half alive.
Yet I thank God that I have lived! I thank God, that I have beheld his
throne, the heavens, and earth, his footstool. I am glad that I have
seen the changes of his day; to behold the sun, fountain of light, and
the gentle pilgrim moon; to have seen the fire bearing flowers of the
sky, and the flowery stars of earth; to have witnessed the sowing and
the harvest. I am glad that I have loved, and have experienced
sympathetic joy and sorrow with my fellow-creatures. I am glad now to
feel the current of thought flow through my mind, as the blood through
the articulations of my frame; mere existence is pleasure; and I thank
God that I live!
“And all ye happy nurslings of mother-earth, do ye not echo my words?
Ye who are linked by the affectionate ties of nature, companions,
friends, lovers! fathers, who toil with joy for their offspring; women,
who while gazing on the living forms of their children, forget the
pains of maternity; children, who neither toil nor spin, but love and
are loved!
“Oh, that death and sickness were banished from our earthly home! that
hatred, tyranny, and fear could no longer make their lair in the human
heart! that each man might find a brother in his fellow, and a nest of
repose amid the wide plains of his inheritance! that the source of
tears were dry, and that lips might no longer form expressions of
sorrow. Sleeping thus under the beneficent eye of heaven, can evil
visit thee, O Earth, or grief cradle to their graves thy luckless
children? Whisper it not, let the demons hear and rejoice! The choice
is with us; let us will it, and our habitation becomes a paradise. For
the will of man is omnipotent, blunting the arrows of death, soothing
the bed of disease, and wiping away the tears of agony. And what is
each human being worth, if he do not put forth his strength to aid his
fellow-creatures? My soul is a fading spark, my nature frail as a spent
wave; but I dedicate all of intellect and strength that remains to me,
to that one work, and take upon me the task, as far as I am able, of
bestowing blessings on my fellow-men!”
His voice trembled, his eyes were cast up, his hands clasped, and his
fragile person was bent, as it were, with excess of emotion. The spirit
of life seemed to linger in his form, as a dying flame on an altar
flickers on the embers of an accepted sacrifice.
CHAPTER V.
When we arrived at Windsor, I found that Raymond and Perdita had
departed for the continent. I took possession of my sister’s cottage,
and blessed myself that I lived within view of Windsor Castle. It was a
curious fact, that at this period, when by the marriage of Perdita I
was allied to one of the richest individuals in England, and was bound
by the most intimate friendship to its chiefest noble, I experienced
the greatest excess of poverty that I had ever known. My knowledge of
the worldly principles of Lord Raymond, would have ever prevented me
from applying to him, however deep my distress might have been. It was
in vain that I repeated to myself with regard to Adrian, that his purse
was open to me; that one in soul, as we were, our fortunes ought also
to be common. I could never, while with him, think of his bounty as a
remedy to my poverty; and I even put aside hastily his offers of
supplies, assuring him of a falsehood, that I needed them not. How
could I say to this generous being, “Maintain me in idleness. You who
have dedicated your powers of mind and fortune to the benefit of your
species, shall you so misdirect your exertions, as to support in
uselessness the strong, healthy, and capable?”
And yet I dared not request him to use his influence that I might
obtain an honourable provision for myself—for then I should have been
obliged to leave Windsor. I hovered for ever around the walls of its
Castle, beneath its enshadowing thickets; my sole companions were my
books and my loving thoughts. I studied the wisdom of the ancients, and
gazed on the happy walls that sheltered the beloved of my soul. My mind
was nevertheless idle. I pored over the poetry of old times; I studied
the metaphysics of Plato and Berkeley. I read the histories of Greece
and Rome, and of England’s former periods, and I watched the movements
of the lady of my heart. At night I could see her shadow on the walls
of her apartment; by day I viewed her in her flower-garden, or riding
in the park with her usual companions. Methought the charm would be
broken if I were seen, but I heard the music of her voice and was
happy. I gave to each heroine of whom I read, her beauty and matchless
excellences—such was Antigone, when she guided the blind Œdipus to the
grove of the Eumenides, and discharged the funeral rites of Polynices;
such was Miranda in the unvisited cave of Prospero; such Haidee, on the
sands of the Ionian island. I was mad with excess of passionate
devotion; but pride, tameless as fire, invested my nature, and
prevented me from betraying myself by word or look.
In the mean time, while I thus pampered myself with rich mental
repasts, a peasant would have disdained my scanty fare, which I
sometimes robbed from the squirrels of the forest. I was, I own, often
tempted to recur to the lawless feats of my boy-hood, and knock down
the almost tame pheasants that perched upon the trees, and bent their
bright eyes on me. But they were the property of Adrian, the nurslings
of Idris; and so, although my imagination rendered sensual by
privation, made me think that they would better become the spit in my
kitchen, than the green leaves of the forest,
Nathelesse,
I checked my haughty will, and did not eat;
but supped upon sentiment, and dreamt vainly of “such morsels sweet,”
as I might not waking attain.
But, at this period, the whole scheme of my existence was about to
change. The orphan and neglected son of Verney, was on the eve of being
linked to the mechanism of society by a golden chain, and to enter into
all the duties and affections of life. Miracles were to be wrought in
my favour, the machine of social life pushed with vast effort backward.
Attend, O reader! while I narrate this tale of wonders!
One day as Adrian and Idris were riding through the forest, with their
mother and accustomed companions, Idris, drawing her brother aside from
the rest of the cavalcade, suddenly asked him, “What had become of his
friend, Lionel Verney?”
“Even from this spot,” replied Adrian, pointing to my sister’s cottage,
“you can see his dwelling.”
“Indeed!” said Idris, “and why, if he be so near, does he not come to
see us, and make one of our society?”
“I often visit him,” replied Adrian; “but you may easily guess the
motives, which prevent him from coming where his presence may annoy any
one among us.”
“I do guess them,” said Idris, “and such as they are, I would not
venture to combat them. Tell me, however, in what way he passes his
time; what he is doing and thinking in his cottage retreat?”
“Nay, my sweet sister,” replied Adrian, “you ask me more than I can
well answer; but if you feel interest in him, why not visit him? He
will feel highly honoured, and thus you may repay a part of the
obligation I owe him, and compensate for the injuries fortune has done
him.”
“I will most readily accompany you to his abode,” said the lady, “not
that I wish that either of us should unburthen ourselves of our debt,
which, being no less than your life, must remain unpayable ever. But
let us go; to-morrow we will arrange to ride out together, and
proceeding towards that part of the forest, call upon him.”
The next evening therefore, though the autumnal change had brought on
cold and rain, Adrian and Idris entered my cottage. They found me
Curius-like, feasting on sorry fruits for supper; but they brought
gifts richer than the golden bribes of the Sabines, nor could I refuse
the invaluable store of friendship and delight which they bestowed.
Surely the glorious twins of Latona were not more welcome, when, in the
infancy of the world, they were brought forth to beautify and enlighten
this “sterile promontory,” than were this angelic pair to my lowly
dwelling and grateful heart. We sat like one family round my hearth.
Our talk was on subjects, unconnected with the emotions that evidently
occupied each; but we each divined the other’s thought, and as our
voices spoke of indifferent matters, our eyes, in mute language, told a
thousand things no tongue could have uttered.
They left me in an hour’s time. They left me happy—how unspeakably
happy. It did not require the measured sounds of human language to
syllable the story of my extasy. Idris had visited me; Idris I should
again and again see—my imagination did not wander beyond the
completeness of this knowledge. I trod air; no doubt, no fear, no hope
even, disturbed me; I clasped with my soul the fulness of contentment,
satisfied, undesiring, beatified.
For many days Adrian and Idris continued to visit me thus. In this dear
intercourse, love, in the guise of enthusiastic friendship, infused
more and more of his omnipotent spirit. Idris felt it. Yes, divinity of
the world, I read your characters in her looks and gesture; I heard
your melodious voice echoed by her—you prepared for us a soft and