CHAPTER VII.
HAVING seen our friend properly installed in his new office, we turned oureyes towards Windsor. The nearness of this place to London was such, as totake away the idea of painful separation, when we quitted Raymond andPerdita. We took leave of them in the Protectoral Palace. It was prettyenough to see my sister enter as it were into the spirit of the drama, andendeavour to fill her station with becoming dignity. Her internal pride andhumility of manner were now more than ever at war. Her timidity was notartificial, but arose from that fear of not being properly appreciated,that slight estimation of the neglect of the world, which alsocharacterized Raymond. But then Perdita thought more constantly of othersthan he; and part of her bashfulness arose from a wish to take from thosearound her a sense of inferiority; a feeling which never crossed her mind.From the circumstances of her birth and education, Idris would have beenbetter fitted for the formulae of ceremony; but the very ease whichaccompanied such actions with her, arising from habit, rendered themtedious; while, with every drawback, Perdita evidently enjoyed hersituation. She was too full of new ideas to feel much pain when wedeparted; she took an affectionate leave of us, and promised to visit ussoon; but she did not regret the circumstances that caused our separation.The spirits of Raymond were unbounded; he did not know what to do with hisnew got power; his head was full of plans; he had as yet decided on none--but he promised himself, his friends, and the world, that the aera of hisProtectorship should be signalized by some act of surpassing glory. Thus, wetalked of them, and moralized, as with diminished numbers we returned toWindsor Castle. We felt extreme delight at our escape from politicalturmoil, and sought our solitude with redoubled zest. We did not want foroccupation; but my eager disposition was now turned to the field ofintellectual exertion only; and hard study I found to be an excellentmedicine to allay a fever of spirit with which in indolence, I shoulddoubtless have been assailed. Perdita had permitted us to take Clara backwith us to Windsor; and she and my two lovely infants were perpetualsources of interest and amusement.
The only circumstance that disturbed our peace, was the health of Adrian.It evidently declined, without any symptom which could lead us to suspecthis disease, unless indeed his brightened eyes, animated look, andflustering cheeks, made us dread consumption; but he was without pain orfear. He betook himself to books with ardour, and reposed from study in thesociety he best loved, that of his sister and myself. Sometimes he went upto London to visit Raymond, and watch the progress of events. Clara oftenaccompanied him in these excursions; partly that she might see her parents,partly because Adrian delighted in the prattle, and intelligent looks ofthis lovely child.
Meanwhile all went on well in London. The new elections were finished;parliament met, and Raymond was occupied in a thousand beneficial schemes.Canals, aqueducts, bridges, stately buildings, and various edifices forpublic utility, were entered upon; he was continually surrounded byprojectors and projects, which were to render England one scene offertility and magnificence; the state of poverty was to be abolished; menwere to be transported from place to place almost with the same facility asthe Princes Houssain, Ali, and Ahmed, in the Arabian Nights. The physicalstate of man would soon not yield to the beatitude of angels; disease wasto be banished; labour lightened of its heaviest burden. Nor did this seemextravagant. The arts of life, and the discoveries of science had augmentedin a ratio which left all calculation behind; food sprung up, so to say,spontaneously--machines existed to supply with facility every want of thepopulation. An evil direction still survived; and men were not happy, notbecause they could not, but because they would not rouse themselves tovanquish self-raised obstacles. Raymond was to inspire them with hisbeneficial will, and the mechanism of society, once systematised accordingto faultless rules, would never again swerve into disorder. For these hopeshe abandoned his long-cherished ambition of being enregistered in theannals of nations as a successful warrior; laying aside his sword, peaceand its enduring glories became his aim--the title he coveted was that ofthe benefactor of his country.
Among other works of art in which he was engaged, he had projected theerection of a national gallery for statues and pictures. He possessed manyhimself, which he designed to present to the Republic; and, as the edificewas to be the great ornament of his Protectorship, he was very fastidiousin his choice of the plan on which it would be built. Hundreds were broughtto him and rejected. He sent even to Italy and Greece for drawings; but, asthe design was to be characterized by originality as well as by perfectbeauty, his endeavours were for a time without avail. At length a drawingcame, with an address where communications might be sent, and no artist'sname affixed. The design was new and elegant, but faulty; so faulty, thatalthough drawn with the hand and eye of taste, it was evidently the work ofone who was not an architect. Raymond contemplated it with delight; themore he gazed, the more pleased he was; and yet the errors multiplied underinspection. He wrote to the address given, desiring to see the draughtsman,that such alterations might be made, as should be suggested in aconsultation between him and the original conceiver.
A Greek came. A middle-aged man, with some intelligence of manner, but withso common-place a physiognomy, that Raymond could scarcely believe that hewas the designer. He acknowledged that he was not an architect; but theidea of the building had struck him, though he had sent it without thesmallest hope of its being accepted. He was a man of few words. Raymondquestioned him; but his reserved answers soon made him turn from the man tothe drawing. He pointed out the errors, and the alterations that he wishedto be made; he offered the Greek a pencil that he might correct the sketchon the spot; this was refused by his visitor, who said that he perfectlyunderstood, and would work at it at home. At length Raymond suffered him todepart.
The next day he returned. The design had been re-drawn; but many defectsstill remained, and several of the instructions given had beenmisunderstood. "Come," said Raymond, "I yielded to you yesterday, nowcomply with my request--take the pencil."
The Greek took it, but he handled it in no artist-like way; at length hesaid: "I must confess to you, my Lord, that I did not make this drawing. Itis impossible for you to see the real designer; your instructions must passthrough me. Condescend therefore to have patience with my ignorance, and toexplain your wishes to me; in time I am certain that you will besatisfied."
Raymond questioned vainly; the mysterious Greek would say no more. Would anarchitect be permitted to see the artist? This also was refused. Raymondrepeated his instructions, and the visitor retired. Our friend resolvedhowever not to be foiled in his wish. He suspected, that unaccustomedpoverty was the cause of the mystery, and that the artist was unwilling tobe seen in the garb and abode of want. Raymond was only the more excited bythis consideration to discover him; impelled by the interest he took inobscure talent, he therefore ordered a person skilled in such matters, tofollow the Greek the next time he came, and observe the house in which heshould enter. His emissary obeyed, and brought the desired intelligence. Hehad traced the man to one of the most penurious streets in the metropolis.Raymond did not wonder, that, thus situated, the artist had shrunk fromnotice, but he did not for this alter his resolve.
On the same evening, he went alone to the house named to him. Poverty,dirt, and squalid misery characterized its appearance. Alas! thoughtRaymond, I have much to do before England becomes a Paradise. He knocked;the door was opened by a string from above--the broken, wretchedstaircase was immediately before him, but no person appeared; he knockedagain, vainly--and then, impatient of further delay, he ascended thedark, creaking stairs. His main wish, more particularly now that hewitnessed the abject dwelling of the artist, was to relieve one, possessedof talent, but depressed by want. He pictured to himself a youth, whoseeyes sparkled with genius, whose person was attenuated by famine. He halffeared to displease him; but he trusted that his generous kindness would beadministered so delicately, as not to excite repulse. What human heart isshut to kindness? and though poverty, in its excess, might render thesuff
erer unapt to submit to the supposed degradation of a benefit, the zealof the benefactor must at last relax him into thankfulness. These thoughtsencouraged Raymond, as he stood at the door of the highest room of thehouse. After trying vainly to enter the other apartments, he perceived justwithin the threshold of this one, a pair of small Turkish slippers; thedoor was ajar, but all was silent within. It was probable that the inmatewas absent, but secure that he had found the right person, our adventurousProtector was tempted to enter, to leave a purse on the table, and silentlydepart. In pursuance of this idea, he pushed open the door gently--butthe room was inhabited.
Raymond had never visited the dwellings of want, and the scene that nowpresented itself struck him to the heart. The floor was sunk in manyplaces; the walls ragged and bare--the ceiling weather-stained--atattered bed stood in the corner; there were but two chairs in the room,and a rough broken table, on which was a light in a tin candlestick;--yetin the midst of such drear and heart sickening poverty, there was an air oforder and cleanliness that surprised him. The thought was fleeting; for hisattention was instantly drawn towards the inhabitant of this wretchedabode. It was a female. She sat at the table; one small hand shaded hereyes from the candle; the other held a pencil; her looks were fixed on adrawing before her, which Raymond recognized as the design presented tohim. Her whole appearance awakened his deepest interest. Her dark hair wasbraided and twined in thick knots like the head-dress of a Grecian statue;her garb was mean, but her attitude might have been selected as a model ofgrace. Raymond had a confused remembrance that he had seen such a formbefore; he walked across the room; she did not raise her eyes, merelyasking in Romaic, who is there? "A friend," replied Raymond in the samedialect. She looked up wondering, and he saw that it was Evadne Zaimi.Evadne, once the idol of Adrian's affections; and who, for the sake of herpresent visitor, had disdained the noble youth, and then, neglected by himshe loved, with crushed hopes and a stinging sense of misery, had returnedto her native Greece. What revolution of fortune could have brought her toEngland, and housed her thus?
Raymond recognized her; and his manner changed from polite beneficence tothe warmest protestations of kindness and sympathy. The sight of her, inher present situation, passed like an arrow into his soul. He sat by her,he took her hand, and said a thousand things which breathed the deepestspirit of compassion and affection. Evadne did not answer; her large darkeyes were cast down, at length a tear glimmered on the lashes. "Thus," shecried, "kindness can do, what no want, no misery ever effected; I weep."She shed indeed many tears; her head sunk unconsciously on the shoulder ofRaymond; he held her hand: he kissed her sunken tear-stained cheek. He toldher, that her sufferings were now over: no one possessed the art ofconsoling like Raymond; he did not reason or declaim, but his look shonewith sympathy; he brought pleasant images before the sufferer; his caressesexcited no distrust, for they arose purely from the feeling which leads amother to kiss her wounded child; a desire to demonstrate in every possibleway the truth of his feelings, and the keenness of his wish to pour balminto the lacerated mind of the unfortunate. As Evadne regained hercomposure, his manner became even gay; he sported with the idea of herpoverty. Something told him that it was not its real evils that lay heavilyat her heart, but the debasement and disgrace attendant on it; as hetalked, he divested it of these; sometimes speaking of her fortitude withenergetic praise; then, alluding to her past state, he called her hisPrincess in disguise. He made her warm offers of service; she was too muchoccupied by more engrossing thoughts, either to accept or reject them; atlength he left her, making a promise to repeat his visit the next day. Hereturned home, full of mingled feelings, of pain excited by Evadne'swretchedness, and pleasure at the prospect of relieving it. Some motive forwhich he did not account, even to himself, prevented him from relating hisadventure to Perdita.
The next day he threw such disguise over his person as a cloak afforded,and revisited Evadne. As he went, he bought a basket of costly fruits, suchas were natives of her own country, and throwing over these variousbeautiful flowers, bore it himself to the miserable garret of his friend."Behold," cried he, as he entered, "what bird's food I have brought for mysparrow on the house-top."
Evadne now related the tale of her misfortunes. Her father, though of highrank, had in the end dissipated his fortune, and even destroyed hisreputation and influence through a course of dissolute indulgence. Hishealth was impaired beyond hope of cure; and it became his earnest wish,before he died, to preserve his daughter from the poverty which would bethe portion of her orphan state. He therefore accepted for her, andpersuaded her to accede to, a proposal of marriage, from a wealthy Greekmerchant settled at Constantinople. She quitted her native Greece; herfather died; by degrees she was cut off from all the companions and ties ofher youth.
The war, which about a year before the present time had broken out betweenGreece and Turkey, brought about many reverses of fortune. Her husbandbecame bankrupt, and then in a tumult and threatened massacre on the partof the Turks, they were obliged to fly at midnight, and reached in an openboat an English vessel under sail, which brought them immediately to thisisland. The few jewels they had saved, supported them awhile. The wholestrength of Evadne's mind was exerted to support the failing spirits of herhusband. Loss of property, hopelessness as to his future prospects, theinoccupation to which poverty condemned him, combined to reduce him to astate bordering on insanity. Five months after their arrival in England, hecommitted suicide.
"You will ask me," continued Evadne, "what I have done since; why I havenot applied for succour to the rich Greeks resident here; why I have notreturned to my native country? My answer to these questions must needsappear to you unsatisfactory, yet they have sufficed to lead me on, dayafter day, enduring every wretchedness, rather than by such means to seekrelief. Shall the daughter of the noble, though prodigal Zaimi, appear abeggar before her compeers or inferiors--superiors she had none. Shall Ibow my head before them, and with servile gesture sell my nobility forlife? Had I a child, or any tie to bind me to existence, I might descend tothis--but, as it is--the world has been to me a harsh step-mother; fainwould I leave the abode she seems to grudge, and in the grave forget mypride, my struggles, my despair. The time will soon come; grief and faminehave already sapped the foundations of my being; a very short time, and Ishall have passed away; unstained by the crime of self-destruction, unstungby the memory of degradation, my spirit will throw aside the miserablecoil, and find such recompense as fortitude and resignation may deserve.This may seem madness to you, yet you also have pride and resolution; donot then wonder that my pride is tameless, my resolution unalterable."
Having thus finished her tale, and given such an account as she deemed fit,of the motives of her abstaining from all endeavour to obtain aid from hercountrymen, Evadne paused; yet she seemed to have more to say, to which shewas unable to give words. In the mean time Raymond was eloquent. His desireof restoring his lovely friend to her rank in society, and to her lostprosperity, animated him, and he poured forth with energy, all his wishesand intentions on that subject. But he was checked; Evadne exacted apromise, that he should conceal from all her friends her existence inEngland. "The relatives of the Earl of Windsor," said she haughtily,"doubtless think that I injured him; perhaps the Earl himself would be thefirst to acquit me, but probably I do not deserve acquittal. I acted then,as I ever must, from impulse. This abode of penury may at least prove thedisinterestedness of my conduct. No matter: I do not wish to plead my causebefore any of them, not even before your Lordship, had you not firstdiscovered me. The tenor of my actions will prove that I had rather die,than be a mark for scorn--behold the proud Evadne in her tatters! look onthe beggar-princess! There is aspic venom in the thought--promise me thatmy secret shall not be violated by you."
Raymond promised; but then a new discussion ensued. Evadne required anotherengagement on his part, that he would not without her concurrence enterinto any project for her benefit, nor himself offer relief. "Do not degrademe in my own eyes,
" she said; "poverty has long been my nurse; hard-visagedshe is, but honest. If dishonour, or what I conceive to be dishonour, comenear me, I am lost." Raymond adduced many arguments and fervent persuasionsto overcome her feeling, but she remained unconvinced; and, agitated by thediscussion, she wildly and passionately made a solemn vow, to fly and hideherself where he never could discover her, where famine would soon bringdeath to conclude her woes, if he persisted in his to her disgracingoffers. She could support herself, she said. And then she shewed him how,by executing various designs and paintings, she earned a pittance for hersupport. Raymond yielded for the present. He felt assured, after he had forawhile humoured her self-will, that in the end friendship and reason wouldgain the day.
But the feelings that actuated Evadne were rooted in the depths of herbeing, and were such in their growth as he had no means of understanding.Evadne loved Raymond. He was the hero of her imagination, the image carvedby love in the unchanged texture of her heart. Seven years ago, in heryouthful prime, she had become attached to him; he had served her countryagainst the Turks; he had in her own land acquired that military glorypeculiarly dear to the Greeks, since they were still obliged inch by inchto fight for their security. Yet when he returned thence, and firstappeared in public life in England, her love did not purchase his, whichthen vacillated between Perdita and a crown. While he was yet undecided,she had quitted England; the news of his marriage reached her, and herhopes, poorly nurtured blossoms, withered and fell. The glory of life wasgone for her; the roseate halo of love, which had imbued every object withits own colour, faded;--she was content to take life as it was, and tomake the best of leaden-coloured reality. She married; and, carrying herrestless energy of character with her into new scenes, she turned herthoughts to ambition, and aimed at the title and power of Princess ofWallachia; while her patriotic feelings were soothed by the idea of thegood she might do her country, when her husband should be chief of thisprincipality. She lived to find ambition, as unreal a delusion as love. Herintrigues with Russia for the furtherance of her object, excited thejealousy of the Porte, and the animosity of the Greek government. She wasconsidered a traitor by both, the ruin of her husband followed; theyavoided death by a timely flight, and she fell from the height of herdesires to penury in England. Much of this tale she concealed from Raymond;nor did she confess, that repulse and denial, as to a criminal convicted ofthe worst of crimes, that of bringing the scythe of foreign despotism tocut away the new springing liberties of her country, would have followedher application to any among the Greeks.
She knew that she was the cause of her husband's utter ruin; and she strungherself to bear the consequences. The reproaches which agony extorted; orworse, cureless, uncomplaining depression, when his mind was sunk in atorpor, not the less painful because it was silent and moveless. Shereproached herself with the crime of his death; guilt and its punishmentsappeared to surround her; in vain she endeavoured to allay remorse by thememory of her real integrity; the rest of the world, and she among them,judged of her actions, by their consequences. She prayed for her husband'ssoul; she conjured the Supreme to place on her head the crime of hisself-destruction--she vowed to live to expiate his fault.
In the midst of such wretchedness as must soon have destroyed her, onethought only was matter of consolation. She lived in the same country,breathed the same air as Raymond. His name as Protector was the burthen ofevery tongue; his achievements, projects, and magnificence, the argument ofevery story. Nothing is so precious to a woman's heart as the glory andexcellence of him she loves; thus in every horror Evadne revelled in hisfame and prosperity. While her husband lived, this feeling was regarded byher as a crime, repressed, repented of. When he died, the tide of loveresumed its ancient flow, it deluged her soul with its tumultuous waves,and she gave herself up a prey to its uncontrollable power.
But never, O, never, should he see her in her degraded state. Never shouldhe behold her fallen, as she deemed, from her pride of beauty, thepoverty-stricken inhabitant of a garret, with a name which had become areproach, and a weight of guilt on her soul. But though impenetrably veiledfrom him, his public office permitted her to become acquainted with all hisactions, his daily course of life, even his conversation. She allowedherself one luxury, she saw the newspapers every day, and feasted on thepraise and actions of the Protector. Not that this indulgence was devoid ofaccompanying grief. Perdita's name was for ever joined with his; theirconjugal felicity was celebrated even by the authentic testimony of facts.They were continually together, nor could the unfortunate Evadne read themonosyllable that designated his name, without, at the same time, beingpresented with the image of her who was the faithful companion of all hislabours and pleasures. They, their Excellencies, met her eyes in each line,mingling an evil potion that poisoned her very blood.
It was in the newspaper that she saw the advertisement for the design for anational gallery. Combining with taste her remembrance of the edificeswhich she had seen in the east, and by an effort of genius enduing themwith unity of design, she executed the plan which had been sent to theProtector. She triumphed in the idea of bestowing, unknown and forgotten asshe was, a benefit upon him she loved; and with enthusiastic pride lookedforward to the accomplishment of a work of hers, which, immortalized instone, would go down to posterity stamped with the name of Raymond. Sheawaited with eagerness the return of her messenger from the palace; shelistened insatiate to his account of each word, each look of the Protector;she felt bliss in this communication with her beloved, although he knew notto whom he addressed his instructions. The drawing itself became ineffablydear to her. He had seen it, and praised it; it was again retouched by her,each stroke of her pencil was as a chord of thrilling music, and bore toher the idea of a temple raised to celebrate the deepest and mostunutterable emotions of her soul. These contemplations engaged her, whenthe voice of Raymond first struck her ear, a voice, once heard, never to beforgotten; she mastered her gush of feelings, and welcomed him with quietgentleness.
Pride and tenderness now struggled, and at length made a compromisetogether. She would see Raymond, since destiny had led him to her, and herconstancy and devotion must merit his friendship. But her rights withregard to him, and her cherished independence, should not be injured by theidea of interest, or the intervention of the complicated feelings attendanton pecuniary obligation, and the relative situations of the benefactor, andbenefited. Her mind was of uncommon strength; she could subdue her sensiblewants to her mental wishes, and suffer cold, hunger and misery, rather thanconcede to fortune a contested point. Alas! that in human nature such apitch of mental discipline, and disdainful negligence of nature itself,should not have been allied to the extreme of moral excellence! But theresolution that permitted her to resist the pains of privation, sprung fromthe too great energy of her passions; and the concentrated self-will ofwhich this was a sign, was destined to destroy even the very idol, topreserve whose respect she submitted to this detail of wretchedness.
Their intercourse continued. By degrees Evadne related to her friend thewhole of her story, the stain her name had received in Greece, the weightof sin which had accrued to her from the death of her husband. When Raymondoffered to clear her reputation, and demonstrate to the world her realpatriotism, she declared that it was only through her present sufferingsthat she hoped for any relief to the stings of conscience; that, in herstate of mind, diseased as he might think it, the necessity of occupationwas salutary medicine; she ended by extorting a promise that for the spaceof one month he would refrain from the discussion of her interests,engaging after that time to yield in part to his wishes. She could notdisguise to herself that any change would separate her from him; now shesaw him each day. His connection with Adrian and Perdita was nevermentioned; he was to her a meteor, a companionless star, which at itsappointed hour rose in her hemisphere, whose appearance brought felicity,and which, although it set, was never eclipsed. He came each day to herabode of penury, and his presence transformed it to a temple redolent withswee
ts, radiant with heaven's own light; he partook of her delirium. "Theybuilt a wall between them and the world"--Without, a thousand harpiesraved, remorse and misery, expecting the destined moment for theirinvasion. Within, was the peace as of innocence, reckless blindless,deluding joy, hope, whose still anchor rested on placid but unconstantwater.
Thus, while Raymond had been wrapt in visions of power and fame, while helooked forward to entire dominion over the elements and the mind of man,the territory of his own heart escaped his notice; and from that unthoughtof source arose the mighty torrent that overwhelmed his will, and carriedto the oblivious sea, fame, hope, and happiness.
The Last Man Page 9
