by Robert Reed
ness assumed every day a new shape; every day some unexpected
event seemed to close, while in fact it led onward, the train of ca-
lamities which now befell her .
The selected passion of the soul of Raymond was ambition .
Readiness of talent, a capacity of entering into, and leading the dis-
positions of men; earnest desire of distinction were the awakeners
and nurses of his ambition . But other ingredients mingled with these,
and prevented him from becoming the calculating, determined char-
acter, which alone forms a successful hero . He was obstinate, but
not firm; benevolent in his first movements; harsh and reckless when
provoked . Above all, he was remorseless and unyielding in the pur-
suit of any object of desire, however lawless . Love of pleasure, and
the softer sensibilities of our nature, made a prominent part of his
character, conquering the conqueror; holding him in at the moment
of acquisition; sweeping away ambition’s web; making him forget
the toil of weeks, for the sake of one moment’s indulgence of the
new and actual object of his wishes . Obeying these impulses, he
had become the husband of Perdita: egged on by them, he found
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 958
himself the lover of Evadne . He had now lost both . He had neither
the ennobling self-gratulation, which constancy inspires, to console
him, nor the voluptuous sense of abandonment to a forbidden, but
intoxicating passion . His heart was exhausted by the recent events;
his enjoyment of life was destroyed by the resentment of Perdita,
and the flight of Evadne; and the inflexibility of the former, set the
last seal upon the annihilation of his hopes . As long as their disunion
remained a secret, he cherished an expectation of re-awakening past
tenderness in her bosom; now that we were all made acquainted
with these occurrences, and that Perdita, by declaring her resolves
to others, in a manner pledged herself to their accomplishment, he
gave up the idea of re-union as futile, and sought only, since he was
unable to influence her to change, to reconcile himself to the present
state of things . He made a vow against love and its train of struggles,
disappointment and remorse, and sought in mere sensual enjoyment,
a remedy for the injurious inroads of passion .
Debasement of character is the certain follower of such pursuits .
Yet this consequence would not have been immediately remarkable,
if Raymond had continued to apply himself to the execution of his
plans for the public benefit, and the fulfilling his duties as Protector.
But, extreme in all things, given up to immediate impressions, he
entered with ardour into this new pursuit of pleasure, and followed
up the incongruous intimacies occasioned by it without reflection
or foresight . The council-chamber was deserted; the crowds which
attended on him as agents to his various projects were neglected .
Festivity, and even libertinism, became the order of the day .
Perdita beheld with affright the encreasing disorder . For a mo-
ment she thought that she could stem the torrent, and that Raymond
could be induced to hear reason from her .—Vain hope! The moment
of her influence was passed. He listened with haughtiness, replied
disdainfully; and, if in truth, she succeeded in awakening his con-
science, the sole effect was that he sought an opiate for the pang in
oblivious riot . With the energy natural to her, Perdita then endeav-
oured to supply his place . Their still apparent union permitted her
to do much; but no woman could, in the end, present a remedy to
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 959
the encreasing negligence of the Protector; who, as if seized with a
paroxysm of insanity, trampled on all ceremony, all order, all duty,
and gave himself up to license .
Reports of these strange proceedings reached us, and we were
undecided what method to adopt to restore our friend to himself
and his country, when Perdita suddenly appeared among us . She
detailed the progress of the mournful change, and entreated Adrian
and myself to go up to London, and endeavour to remedy the en-
creasing evil:—“Tell him,” she cried, “tell Lord Raymond, that my
presence shall no longer annoy him . That he need not plunge into
this destructive dissipation for the sake of disgusting me, and caus-
ing me to fly. This purpose is now accomplished; he will never see
me more . But let me, it is my last entreaty, let me in the praises of
his countrymen and the prosperity of England, find the choice of my
youth justified.”
During our ride up to town, Adrian and I discussed and argued
upon Raymond’s conduct, and his falling off from the hopes of per-
manent excellence on his part, which he had before given us cause
to entertain . My friend and I had both been educated in one school,
or rather I was his pupil in the opinion, that steady adherence to
principle was the only road to honour; a ceaseless observance of
the laws of general utility, the only conscientious aim of human am-
bition . But though we both entertained these ideas, we differed in
their application . Resentment added also a sting to my censure; and
I reprobated Raymond’s conduct in severe terms . Adrian was more
benign, more considerate . He admitted that the principles that I laid
down were the best; but he denied that they were the only ones .
Quoting the text, there are many mansions in my father’s house, he
insisted that the modes of becoming good or great, varied as much
as the dispositions of men, of whom it might be said, as of the leaves
of the forest, there were no two alike .
We arrived in London at about eleven at night . We conjectured,
notwithstanding what we had heard, that we should find Raymond
in St . Stephen’s: thither we sped . The chamber was full—but there
was no Protector; and there was an austere discontent manifest on
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 960
the countenances of the leaders, and a whispering and busy tattle
among the underlings, not less ominous . We hastened to the palace
of the Protectorate . We found Raymond in his dining room with six
others: the bottle was being pushed about merrily, and had made
considerable inroads on the understanding of one or two . He who
sat near Raymond was telling a story, which convulsed the rest with
laughter .
Raymond sat among them, though while he entered into the spirit
of the hour, his natural dignity never forsook him . He was gay, play-
ful, fascinating—but never did he overstep the modesty of nature, or
the respect due to himself, in his wildest sallies . Yet I own, that con-
sidering the task which Raymond had taken on himself as Protector
of England, and the cares to which it became him to attend, I was
exceedingly provoked to observe the worthless fellows on whom his
time was wasted, and the jovial if not drunken spirit which seemed
on the point of robbing him of his better self . I stood watching the
scene, while Adrian flitted like a shadow in among them,
and, by a
word and look of sobriety, endeavoured to restore order in the as-
sembly . Raymond expressed himself delighted to see him, declaring
that he should make one in the festivity of the night .
This action of Adrian provoked me . I was indignant that he
should sit at the same table with the companions of Raymond—men
of abandoned characters, or rather without any, the refuse of high-
bred luxury, the disgrace of their country . “Let me entreat Adrian,”
I cried, “not to comply: rather join with me in endeavouring to
withdraw Lord Raymond from this scene, and restore him to other
society .”
“My good fellow,” said Raymond, “this is neither the time nor
place for the delivery of a moral lecture: take my word for it that
my amusements and society are not so bad as you imagine . We are
neither hypocrites or fools —for the rest, ‘Dost thou think because
thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?’”
I turned angrily away: “Verney,” said Adrian, “you are very cyni-
cal: sit down; or if you will not, perhaps, as you are not a frequent
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 961
visitor, Lord Raymond will humour you, and accompany us, as we
had previously agreed upon, to parliament .”
Raymond looked keenly at him; he could read benignity only
in his gentle lineaments; he turned to me, observing with scorn my
moody and stern demeanour . “Come,” said Adrian, “I have prom-
ised for you, enable me to keep my engagement . Come with us .”—
Raymond made an uneasy movement, and laconically replied—“I
won’t!”
The party in the mean time had broken up . They looked at the
pictures, strolled into the other apartments, talked of billiards, and
one by one vanished . Raymond strode angrily up and down the
room . I stood ready to receive and reply to his reproaches . Adrian
leaned against the wall. “This is infinitely ridiculous,” he cried, “if
you were school-boys, you could not conduct yourselves more un-
reasonably .”
“You do not understand,” said Raymond . “This is only part of a
system:—a scheme of tyranny to which I will never submit . Because
I am Protector of England, am I to be the only slave in its empire?
My privacy invaded, my actions censured, my friends insulted? But
I will get rid of the whole together .—Be you witnesses,” and he
took the star, insignia of office, from his breast, and threw it on the
table. “I renounce my office, I abdicate my power—assume it who
will!”—-
“Let him assume it,” exclaimed Adrian, “who can pronounce
himself, or whom the world will pronounce to be your superior .
There does not exist the man in England with adequate presumption .
Know yourself, Raymond, and your indignation will cease; your
complacency return . A few months ago, whenever we prayed for the
prosperity of our country, or our own, we at the same time prayed
for the life and welfare of the Protector, as indissolubly linked to
it. Your hours were devoted to our benefit, your ambition was to
obtain our commendation. You decorated our towns with edifices,
you bestowed on us useful establishments, you gifted the soil with
abundant fertility . The powerful and unjust cowered at the steps of
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 962
your judgment-seat, and the poor and oppressed arose like morn-
awakened flowers under the sunshine of your protection.
“Can you wonder that we are all aghast and mourn, when this
appears changed? But, come, this splenetic fit is already passed;
resume your functions; your partizans will hail you; your enemies
be silenced; our love, honour, and duty will again be manifested
towards you . Master yourself, Raymond, and the world is subject
to you .”
“All this would be very good sense, if addressed to another,” re-
plied Raymond, moodily, “con the lesson yourself, and you, the first
peer of the land, may become its sovereign . You the good, the wise,
the just, may rule all hearts . But I perceive, too soon for my own
happiness, too late for England’s good, that I undertook a task to
which I am unequal . I cannot rule myself . My passions are my mas-
ters; my smallest impulse my tyrant . Do you think that I renounced
the Protectorate (and I have renounced it) in a fit of spleen? By the
God that lives, I swear never to take up that bauble again; never
again to burthen myself with the weight of care and misery, of which
that is the visible sign .
“Once I desired to be a king . It was in the hey-day of youth,
in the pride of boyish folly . I knew myself when I renounced it . I
renounced it to gain —no matter what—for that also I have lost . For
many months I have submitted to this mock majesty—this solemn
jest . I am its dupe no longer . I will be free .
“I have lost that which adorned and dignified my life; that which
linked me to other men . Again I am a solitary man; and I will be-
come again, as in my early years, a wanderer, a soldier of fortune .
My friends, for Verney, I feel that you are my friend, do not endeav-
our to shake my resolve . Perdita, wedded to an imagination, careless
of what is behind the veil, whose charactery is in truth faulty and
vile, Perdita has renounced me . With her it was pretty enough to
play a sovereign’s part; and, as in the recesses of your beloved forest
we acted masques, and imagined ourselves Arcadian shepherds, to
please the fancy of the moment—so was I content, more for Per-
dita’s sake than my own, to take on me the character of one of the
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 963
great ones of the earth; to lead her behind the scenes of grandeur, to
vary her life with a short act of magnificence and power. This was
to be the colour; love and confidence the substance of our existence.
But we must live, and not act our lives; pursuing the shadow, I lost
the reality—now I renounce both .
“Adrian, I am about to return to Greece, to become again a sol-
dier, perhaps a conqueror . Will you accompany me? You will behold
new scenes; see a new people; witness the mighty struggle there
going forward between civilization and barbarism; behold, and
perhaps direct the efforts of a young and vigorous population, for
liberty and order . Come with me . I have expected you . I waited for
this moment; all is prepared;—will you accompany me?”
“I will,” replied Adrian . “Immediately?”
“Tomorrow if you will .”
“Reflect!” I cried.
“Wherefore?” asked Raymond—“My dear fellow, I have done
nothing else than reflect on this step the live-long summer; and be
assured that Adrian has condensed an age of reflection into this little
moment. Do not talk of reflection; from this moment I abjure it; this
is my only happy moment during a long interval of time . I must go,
Lionel—the Gods will it; and I must . Do not endeavour to deprive
me of my companion, the out-cast’s friend .
“One word more
concerning unkind, unjust Perdita . For a time,
I thought that, by watching a complying moment, fostering the still
warm ashes, I might relume in her the flame of love. It is more cold
within her, than a fire left by gypsies in winter-time, the spent em-
bers crowned by a pyramid of snow . Then, in endeavouring to do
violence to my own disposition, I made all worse than before . Still I
think, that time, and even absence, may restore her to me . Remem-
ber, that I love her still, that my dearest hope is that she will again be
mine . I know, though she does not, how false the veil is which she
has spread over the reality—do not endeavour to rend this deceptive
covering, but by degrees withdraw it . Present her with a mirror, in
which she may know herself; and, when she is an adept in that nec-
essary but difficult science, she will wonder at her present mistake,
THE LAST MAN, by Mary Shelley | 964
and hasten to restore to me, what is by right mine, her forgiveness,
her kind thoughts, her love .”
CHAPTER X.
After these events, it was long before we were able to attain
any degree of composure . A moral tempest had wrecked our richly
freighted vessel, and we, remnants of the diminished crew, were
aghast at the losses and changes which we had undergone . Idris pas-
sionately loved her brother, and could ill brook an absence whose
duration was uncertain; his society was dear and necessary to me—I
had followed up my chosen literary occupations with delight under
his tutorship and assistance; his mild philosophy, unerring reason,
and enthusiastic friendship were the best ingredient, the exalted
spirit of our circle; even the children bitterly regretted the loss of
their kind playfellow . Deeper grief oppressed Perdita . In spite of
resentment, by day and night she figured to herself the toils and dan-
gers of the wanderers. Raymond absent, struggling with difficulties,
lost to the power and rank of the Protectorate, exposed to the perils
of war, became an object of anxious interest; not that she felt any
inclination to recall him, if recall must imply a return to their former
union . Such return she felt to be impossible; and while she believed
it to be thus, and with anguish regretted that so it should be, she con-
tinued angry and impatient with him, who occasioned her misery .
These perplexities and regrets caused her to bathe her pillow with
