The Last Man
were again to assemble on the Place Vendome; it was of the utmost
consequence therefore that Adrian should arrive in Paris by that day,
since an hair might turn the scale, and peace, scared away by intestine
broils, might only return to watch by the silent dead. It was now the
twenty-eighth of January; every vessel stationed near Dover had been
beaten to pieces and destroyed by the furious storms I have
commemorated. Our journey however would admit of no delay. That very
night, Adrian, and I, and twelve others, either friends or attendants,
put off from the English shore, in the boat that had brought over the
deputies. We all took our turn at the oar; and the immediate occasion
of our departure affording us abundant matter for conjecture and
discourse, prevented the feeling that we left our native country,
depopulate England, for the last time, to enter deeply into the minds
of the greater part of our number. It was a serene starlight night, and
the dark line of the English coast continued for some time visible at
intervals, as we rose on the broad back of the waves. I exerted myself
with my long oar to give swift impulse to our skiff; and, while the
waters splashed with melancholy sound against its sides, I looked with
sad affection on this last glimpse of sea-girt England, and strained my
eyes not too soon to lose sight of the castellated cliff, which rose to
protect the land of heroism and beauty from the inroads of ocean, that,
turbulent as I had lately seen it, required such cyclopean walls for
its repulsion. A solitary sea-gull winged its flight over our heads, to
seek its nest in a cleft of the precipice. Yes, thou shalt revisit the
land of thy birth, I thought, as I looked invidiously on the airy
voyager; but we shall, never more! Tomb of Idris, farewell! Grave, in
which my heart lies sepultured, farewell for ever!
We were twelve hours at sea, and the heavy swell obliged us to exert
all our strength. At length, by mere dint of rowing, we reached the
French coast. The stars faded, and the grey morning cast a dim veil
over the silver horns of the waning moon—the sun rose broad and red
from the sea, as we walked over the sands to Calais. Our first care was
to procure horses, and although wearied by our night of watching and
toil, some of our party immediately went in quest of these in the wide
fields of the unenclosed and now barren plain round Calais. We divided
ourselves, like seamen, into watches, and some reposed, while others
prepared the morning’s repast. Our foragers returned at noon with only
six horses—on these, Adrian and I, and four others, proceeded on our
journey towards the great city, which its inhabitants had fondly named
the capital of the civilized world. Our horses had become, through
their long holiday, almost wild, and we crossed the plain round Calais
with impetuous speed. From the height near Boulogne, I turned again to
look on England; nature had cast a misty pall over her, her cliff was
hidden—there was spread the watery barrier that divided us, never again
to be crossed; she lay on the ocean plain,
In the great pool a swan’s nest.
Ruined the nest, alas! the swans of Albion had passed away for ever—an
uninhabited rock in the wide Pacific, which had remained since the
creation uninhabited, unnamed, unmarked, would be of as much account in
the world’s future history, as desert England.
Our journey was impeded by a thousand obstacles. As our horses grew
tired, we had to seek for others; and hours were wasted, while we
exhausted our artifices to allure some of these enfranchised slaves of
man to resume the yoke; or as we went from stable to stable through the
towns, hoping to find some who had not forgotten the shelter of their
native stalls. Our ill success in procuring them, obliged us
continually to leave some one of our companions behind; and on the
first of February, Adrian and I entered Paris, wholly unaccompanied.
The serene morning had dawned when we arrived at Saint Denis, and the
sun was high, when the clamour of voices, and the clash, as we feared,
of weapons, guided us to where our countrymen had assembled on the
Place Vendome. We passed a knot of Frenchmen, who were talking
earnestly of the madness of the insular invaders, and then coming by a
sudden turn upon the Place, we saw the sun glitter on drawn swords and
fixed bayonets, while yells and clamours rent the air. It was a scene
of unaccustomed confusion in these days of depopulation. Roused by
fancied wrongs, and insulting scoffs, the opposite parties had rushed
to attack each other; while the elect, drawn up apart, seemed to wait
an opportunity to fall with better advantage on their foes, when they
should have mutually weakened each other. A merciful power interposed,
and no blood was shed; for, while the insane mob were in the very act
of attack, the females, wives, mothers and daughters, rushed between;
they seized the bridles; they embraced the knees of the horsemen, and
hung on the necks, or enweaponed arms of their enraged relatives; the
shrill female scream was mingled with the manly shout, and formed the
wild clamour that welcomed us on our arrival.
Our voices could not be heard in the tumult; Adrian however was eminent
for the white charger he rode; spurring him, he dashed into the midst
of the throng: he was recognized, and a loud cry raised for England and
the Protector. The late adversaries, warmed to affection at the sight
of him, joined in heedless confusion, and surrounded him; the women
kissed his hands, and the edges of his garments; nay, his horse
received tribute of their embraces; some wept their welcome; he
appeared an angel of peace descended among them; and the only danger
was, that his mortal nature would be demonstrated, by his suffocation
from the kindness of his friends. His voice was at length heard, and
obeyed; the crowd fell back; the chiefs alone rallied round him. I had
seen Lord Raymond ride through his lines; his look of victory, and
majestic mien obtained the respect and obedience of all: such was not
the appearance or influence of Adrian. His slight figure, his fervent
look, his gesture, more of deprecation than rule, were proofs that
love, unmingled with fear, gave him dominion over the hearts of a
multitude, who knew that he never flinched from danger, nor was
actuated by other motives than care for the general welfare. No
distinction was now visible between the two parties, late ready to shed
each other’s blood, for, though neither would submit to the other, they
both yielded ready obedience to the Earl of Windsor.
One party however remained, cut off from the rest, which did not
sympathize in the joy exhibited on Adrian’s arrival, or imbibe the
spirit of peace, which fell like dew upon the softened hearts of their
countrymen. At the head of this assembly was a ponderous, dark-looking
man, whose malign eye surveyed with gloating delight the stern looks of
his followers. They had hitherto been inactive, but now, perceiving
themselves to be forgotten in the universal jubilee, they advanced with
threatening gestures: our friends had, as it were in wanton contention,
attacked each other; they wanted but to be told that their cause was
one, for it to become so: their mutual anger had been a fire of straw,
compared to the slow-burning hatred they both entertained for these
seceders, who seized a portion of the world to come, there to entrench
and incastellate themselves, and to issue with fearful sally, and
appalling denunciations, on the mere common children of the earth. The
first advance of the little army of the elect reawakened their rage;
they grasped their arms, and waited but their leader’s signal to
commence the attack, when the clear tones of Adrian’s voice were heard,
commanding them to fall back; with confused murmur and hurried retreat,
as the wave ebbs clamorously from the sands it lately covered, our
friends obeyed. Adrian rode singly into the space between the opposing
bands; he approached the hostile leader, as requesting him to imitate
his example, but his look was not obeyed, and the chief advanced,
followed by his whole troop. There were many women among them, who
seemed more eager and resolute than their male companions. They pressed
round their leader, as if to shield him, while they loudly bestowed on
him every sacred denomination and epithet of worship. Adrian met them
half way; they halted: “What,” he said, “do you seek? Do you require
any thing of us that we refuse to give, and that you are forced to
acquire by arms and warfare?”
His questions were answered by a general cry, in which the words
election, sin, and red right arm of God, could alone be heard.
Adrian looked expressly at their leader, saying, “Can you not silence
your followers? Mine, you perceive, obey me.”
The fellow answered by a scowl; and then, perhaps fearful that his
people should become auditors of the debate he expected to ensue, he
commanded them to fall back, and advanced by himself. “What, I again
ask,” said Adrian, “do you require of us?”
“Repentance,” replied the man, whose sinister brow gathered clouds as
he spoke. “Obedience to the will of the Most High, made manifest to
these his Elected People. Do we not all die through your sins, O
generation of unbelief, and have we not a right to demand of you
repentance and obedience?”
“And if we refuse them, what then?” his opponent inquired mildly.
“Beware,” cried the man, “God hears you, and will smite your stony
heart in his wrath; his poisoned arrows fly, his dogs of death are
unleashed! We will not perish unrevenged—and mighty will our avenger
be, when he descends in visible majesty, and scatters destruction among
you.”
“My good fellow,” said Adrian, with quiet scorn, “I wish that you were
ignorant only, and I think it would be no difficult task to prove to
you, that you speak of what you do not understand. On the present
occasion however, it is enough for me to know that you seek nothing of
us; and, heaven is our witness, we seek nothing of you. I should be
sorry to embitter by strife the few days that we any of us may have
here to live; when there,” he pointed downwards, “we shall not be able
to contend, while here we need not. Go home, or stay; pray to your God
in your own mode; your friends may do the like. My orisons consist in
peace and good will, in resignation and hope. Farewell!”
He bowed slightly to the angry disputant who was about to reply; and,
turning his horse down Rue Saint Honore, called on his friends to
follow him. He rode slowly, to give time to all to join him at the
Barrier, and then issued his orders that those who yielded obedience to
him, should rendezvous at Versailles. In the meantime he remained
within the walls of Paris, until he had secured the safe retreat of
all. In about a fortnight the remainder of the emigrants arrived from
England, and they all repaired to Versailles; apartments were prepared
for the family of the Protector in the Grand Trianon, and there, after
the excitement of these events, we reposed amidst the luxuries of the
departed Bourbons.
[21] Chorus in Œdipus Coloneus.
CHAPTER V.
After the repose of a few days, we held a council, to decide on our
future movements. Our first plan had been to quit our wintry native
latitude, and seek for our diminished numbers the luxuries and delights
of a southern climate. We had not fixed on any precise spot as the
termination of our wanderings; but a vague picture of perpetual spring,
fragrant groves, and sparkling streams, floated in our imagination to
entice us on. A variety of causes had detained us in England, and we
had now arrived at the middle of February; if we pursued our original
project, we should find ourselves in a worse situation than before,