The Last Man
and imposing beauty, were calculated to produce an electric effect.
Adrian also, notwithstanding his recluse habits and theories, so
adverse to the spirit of party, had many friends, and they were easily
induced to vote for a candidate of his selection.
The Duke of——, and Mr. Ryland, Lord Raymond’s old antagonist, were the
other candidates. The Duke was supported by all the aristocrats of the
republic, who considered him their proper representative. Ryland was
the popular candidate; when Lord Raymond was first added to the list,
his chance of success appeared small. We retired from the debate which
had followed on his nomination: we, his nominators, mortified; he
dispirited to excess. Perdita reproached us bitterly. Her expectations
had been strongly excited; she had urged nothing against our project,
on the contrary, she was evidently pleased by it; but its evident ill
success changed the current of her ideas. She felt, that, once
awakened, Raymond would never return unrepining to Windsor. His habits
were unhinged; his restless mind roused from its sleep, ambition must
now be his companion through life; and if he did not succeed in his
present attempt, she foresaw that unhappiness and cureless discontent
would follow. Perhaps her own disappointment added a sting to her
thoughts and words; she did not spare us, and our own reflections added
to our disquietude.
It was necessary to follow up our nomination, and to persuade Raymond
to present himself to the electors on the following evening. For a long
time he was obstinate. He would embark in a balloon; he would sail for
a distant quarter of the world, where his name and humiliation were
unknown. But this was useless; his attempt was registered; his purpose
published to the world; his shame could never be erased from the
memories of men. It was as well to fail at last after a struggle, as to
fly now at the beginning of his enterprise.
From the moment that he adopted this idea, he was changed. His
depression and anxiety fled; he became all life and activity. The smile
of triumph shone on his countenance; determined to pursue his object to
the uttermost, his manner and expression seem ominous of the
accomplishment of his wishes. Not so Perdita. She was frightened by his
gaiety, for she dreaded a greater revulsion at the end. If his
appearance even inspired us with hope, it only rendered the state of
her mind more painful. She feared to lose sight of him; yet she dreaded
to remark any change in the temper of his mind. She listened eagerly to
him, yet tantalized herself by giving to his words a meaning foreign to
their true interpretation, and adverse to her hopes. She dared not be
present at the contest; yet she remained at home a prey to double
solicitude. She wept over her little girl; she looked, she spoke, as if
she dreaded the occurrence of some frightful calamity. She was half mad
from the effects of uncontrollable agitation.
Lord Raymond presented himself to the house with fearless confidence
and insinuating address. After the Duke of——and Mr. Ryland had finished
their speeches, he commenced. Assuredly he had not conned his lesson;
and at first he hesitated, pausing in his ideas, and in the choice of
his expressions. By degrees he warmed; his words flowed with ease, his
language was full of vigour, and his voice of persuasion. He reverted
to his past life, his successes in Greece, his favour at home. Why
should he lose this, now that added years, prudence, and the pledge
which his marriage gave to his country, ought to encrease, rather than
diminish his claims to confidence? He spoke of the state of England;
the necessary measures to be taken to ensure its security, and confirm
its prosperity. He drew a glowing picture of its present situation. As
he spoke, every sound was hushed, every thought suspended by intense
attention. His graceful elocution enchained the senses of his hearers.
In some degree also he was fitted to reconcile all parties. His birth
pleased the aristocracy; his being the candidate recommended by Adrian,
a man intimately allied to the popular party, caused a number, who had
no great reliance either on the Duke or Mr. Ryland, to range on his
side.
The contest was keen and doubtful. Neither Adrian nor myself would have
been so anxious, if our own success had depended on our exertions; but
we had egged our friend on to the enterprise, and it became us to
ensure his triumph. Idris, who entertained the highest opinion of his
abilities, was warmly interested in the event: and my poor sister, who
dared not hope, and to whom fear was misery, was plunged into a fever
of disquietude.
Day after day passed while we discussed our projects for the evening,
and each night was occupied by debates which offered no conclusion. At
last the crisis came: the night when parliament, which had so long
delayed its choice, must decide: as the hour of twelve passed, and the
new day began, it was by virtue of the constitution dissolved, its
power extinct.
We assembled at Raymond’s house, we and our partizans. At half past
five o’clock we proceeded to the House. Idris endeavoured to calm
Perdita; but the poor girl’s agitation deprived her of all power of
self-command. She walked up and down the room,—gazed wildly when any
one entered, fancying that they might be the announcers of her doom. I
must do justice to my sweet sister: it was not for herself that she was
thus agonized. She alone knew the weight which Raymond attached to his
success. Even to us he assumed gaiety and hope, and assumed them so
well, that we did not divine the secret workings of his mind. Sometimes
a nervous trembling, a sharp dissonance of voice, and momentary fits of
absence revealed to Perdita the violence he did himself; but we, intent
on our plans, observed only his ready laugh, his joke intruded on all
occasions, the flow of his spirits which seemed incapable of ebb.
Besides, Perdita was with him in his retirement; she saw the moodiness
that succeeded to this forced hilarity; she marked his disturbed sleep,
his painful irritability—once she had seen his tears—hers had scarce
ceased to flow, since she had beheld the big drops which disappointed
pride had caused to gather in his eye, but which pride was unable to
dispel. What wonder then, that her feelings were wrought to this pitch!
I thus accounted to myself for her agitation; but this was not all, and
the sequel revealed another excuse.
One moment we seized before our departure, to take leave of our beloved
girls. I had small hope of success, and entreated Idris to watch over
my sister. As I approached the latter, she seized my hand, and drew me
into another apartment; she threw herself into my arms, and wept and
sobbed bitterly and long. I tried to soothe her; I bade her hope; I
asked what tremendous consequences would ensue even on our failure. “My
brother,” she cried, “protector of my childhood, dear, most dear
Lionel, my fate hangs by a thread. I have you all about me now—you, the
companion of my infancy; Adrian, as dear to me as if bound by the ties
of blood; Idris, the sister of my heart, and her lovely offspring.
This, O this may be the last time that you will surround me thus!”
Abruptly she stopped, and then cried: “What have I said?—foolish false
girl that I am!” She looked wildly on me, and then suddenly calming
herself, apologized for what she called her unmeaning words, saying
that she must indeed be insane, for, while Raymond lived, she must be
happy; and then, though she still wept, she suffered me tranquilly to
depart. Raymond only took her hand when he went, and looked on her
expressively; she answered by a look of intelligence and assent.
Poor girl! what she then suffered! I could never entirely forgive
Raymond for the trials he imposed on her, occasioned as they were by a
selfish feeling on his part. He had schemed, if he failed in his
present attempt, without taking leave of any of us, to embark for
Greece, and never again to revisit England. Perdita acceded to his
wishes; for his contentment was the chief object of her life, the crown
of her enjoyment; but to leave us all, her companions, the beloved
partners of her happiest years, and in the interim to conceal this
frightful determination, was a task that almost conquered her strength
of mind. She had been employed in arranging for their departure; she
had promised Raymond during this decisive evening, to take advantage of
our absence, to go one stage of the journey, and he, after his defeat
was ascertained, would slip away from us, and join her.
Although, when I was informed of this scheme, I was bitterly offended
by the small attention which Raymond paid to my sister’s feelings, I
was led by reflection to consider, that he acted under the force of
such strong excitement, as to take from him the consciousness, and,
consequently, the guilt of a fault. If he had permitted us to witness
his agitation, he would have been more under the guidance of reason;
but his struggles for the shew of composure, acted with such violence
on his nerves, as to destroy his power of self-command. I am convinced
that, at the worst, he would have returned from the seashore to take
leave of us, and to make us the partners of his council. But the task
imposed on Perdita was not the less painful. He had extorted from her a
vow of secrecy; and her part of the drama, since it was to be performed
alone, was the most agonizing that could be devised. But to return to
my narrative.
The debates had hitherto been long and loud; they had often been
protracted merely for the sake of delay. But now each seemed fearful
lest the fatal moment should pass, while the choice was yet undecided.
Unwonted silence reigned in the house, the members spoke in whispers,
and the ordinary business was transacted with celerity and quietness.
During the first stage of the election, the Duke of——had been thrown
out; the question therefore lay between Lord Raymond and Mr. Ryland.
The latter had felt secure of victory, until the appearance of Raymond;
and, since his name had been inserted as a candidate, he had canvassed
with eagerness. He had appeared each evening, impatience and anger
marked in his looks, scowling on us from the opposite side of St.
Stephen’s, as if his mere frown would cast eclipse on our hopes.
Every thing in the English constitution had been regulated for the
better preservation of peace. On the last day, two candidates only were
allowed to remain; and to obviate, if possible, the last struggle
between these, a bribe was offered to him who should voluntarily resign
his pretensions; a place of great emolument and honour was given him,
and his success facilitated at a future election. Strange to say
however, no instance had yet occurred, where either candidate had had
recourse to this expedient; in consequence the law had become obsolete,
nor had been referred to by any of us in our discussions. To our
extreme surprise, when it was moved that we should resolve ourselves
into a committee for the election of the Lord Protector, the member who
had nominated Ryland, rose and informed us that this candidate had
resigned his pretensions. His information was at first received with
silence; a confused murmur succeeded; and, when the chairman declared
Lord Raymond duly chosen, it amounted to a shout of applause and
victory. It seemed as if, far from any dread of defeat even if Mr.
Ryland had not resigned, every voice would have been united in favour
of our candidate. In fact, now that the idea of contest was dismissed,
all hearts returned to their former respect and admiration of our
accomplished friend. Each felt, that England had never seen a Protector
so capable of fulfilling the arduous duties of that high office. One