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THE 
 
 DESULTORY MAN 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 RICHELIEU," "THE GYPSY/' &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. IIL 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET 
 
 1836. 
 
S Z 3 
 
 J "2. 3 c^ «: 
 
 v^. 3 
 
 THE 
 
 DESULTORY MAN 
 
 " I WILL tell you a much more extraordinary 
 story of a cure than that," exclaimed the colonel's 
 brother, as soon as the tale of the Sorcier was 
 read. " It occurred in Britanny, too, under my 
 own eyes also, while I hved at the house of an 
 
 excellent Breton, a Doctor R . 
 
 " Every one has heard of the mania for leeches 
 
 which has lately prevailed in France. Like all 
 
 other manias, this did not long confine itself to 
 
 the capital or its environs, but rapidly spread to 
 
 ' . every province and every department ; and like 
 
 /4. the blood, which, impelled by the heart, finds 
 
 '^ its wav to the most minute corners and remote 
 
 extremities of the human frame, the doctrine of 
 
 C^ universal leechification gradually insinuated it- 
 
 VOL. III. B 
 
2 THE DESULTORY MAN.. 
 
 self to the ultimate ends of his Most Christian 
 Majesty's dominions. Not a canton so small 
 but read the work of Monsieur Brousset ; not a 
 town so diminutive but had its regular consump- 
 tion of leeches averaged amongst other articles 
 of first necessity ; not an apothecary's shop so 
 insignificant, but possessed its dozen or two of 
 jars replete with these little black benefactors 
 of humanity ; and not a pond nor a ditch where 
 might not occasionally be seen some unfortunate 
 wight up to his neck in the water, with a pecu- 
 liar sort of net in his hand, endeavouring to en- 
 trap the aquatic practitioners to come and per- 
 form phlebotomy gratis. If a man had a pain in 
 his head, he was ordered to apply leeches ; if he 
 had a pain in his toe, it was all the same thing. 
 The gout, the apoplexy, a dropsy, or a consump- 
 tion ; the head-ache, or the heart-ache, or the 
 stomach-ache, were all treated after the same 
 fashion ; and leeches were voted nem. con. the 
 universal panacea applicable to every disease 
 which afflicts poor little humanity. In short, the 
 doctors were saved a great deal of trouble, the 
 patients were probably none the worse, the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 3 
 
 apothecaries grew fat as well as the leeches, 
 and many a man made a fortune, who, if it had 
 not been for his sattgsues, would probably have 
 been sans sous. 
 
 "At the time that this practice was becoming 
 general, my worthy friendand landlord, Monsieur 
 le Docteur, was smitten with the desire of suck- 
 ing his patients' blood — not personally, but by 
 proxy ; so that of all the words that the French 
 Academy permit the nation to make use of, and 
 which, when I left them, consisted of thirty-two 
 thousand seven hundred and sixty one and a- 
 half,^ the word most frequently in the mouth of 
 Monsieur le Docteur was sangsue, 
 
 " But before I proceed farther, I must briefly 
 tell you, what sort of a machine a French doc- 
 tor in a <jountry town is. It is a thing that 
 walks upon two legs, or trots upon four, as oc- 
 casion serves ; that knows nothing of medicine, 
 a good deal of surgery, and will go ten miles for 
 two shillings. My worthy friend, then. Mon- 
 sieur le Docteur , resided at Quimper, in 
 
 * He afterwards explained that he had been admitted once 
 to the making of a new word by the French Academy, and left 
 it in the middle. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 La Basse Bretagne. His fame was high, and 
 not without cause, so that if a man fell off a tree 
 and broke his neck within fifteen miles of Quim- 
 per. Monsieur le Docteur was sure to be in at 
 the death. 
 
 " When last I was in Britanny, I spent six 
 weeks very pleasantly with the Doctor and his 
 family, and, as he was a good horseman and a plea- 
 sant companion, I accompanied him more than 
 once when he rode to visit some country patients. 
 Thus I was conducted one day to the little vil- 
 lage of Kerethnac, some ten miles from Quim- 
 per, where my friend had plenty of occasions to 
 exercise his curative propensities. One man 
 had broken his leg, another had dislocated his 
 wrist, and a third had a sore throat. To this 
 last, without loss of time, the Doctor ordered 
 the apphcation of twenty leeches, seemingly 
 sorry that he could not prescribe them for the 
 others also ; and having dispatched his business 
 as quickly as possible, we remounted our horses 
 and returned to Quimper. The road was a 
 pleasant one, and two days after, when Mon- 
 sieur le Docteur proposed to revisit Kerethnac, 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. O 
 
 I was not unwilling to accompany him. On ar- 
 riving at our journey's end, I went into all the 
 huts with my friend. Huts they were, indeed, 
 — a combination of pig- sty, cow-house, and bed- 
 chamber. But to proceed. After having looked 
 at the broken leg, and ordered some camphorated 
 spirit for the dislocated wrist, the Doctor en- 
 tered the house of his sore-throated patient, 
 the first piece of whose goods and chattels that 
 presented itself being his wife. 
 
 " « Well, my good woman,' said the Doctor, 
 ' how is your husband to-day ? — better, no doubt.' 
 
 " ' O yes, surely,' answered the woman. 
 ' He is as well as ever, and gone to the field.' 
 
 " ' I thought so,' continued Monsieur le Doc- 
 teur. ' The leeches have cured him ! Won- 
 derful effect they have ! You got the leeches, 
 of course ' 
 
 " « Oh, yes. Monsieur le Docteur, they did him 
 a deal of good, though he could not take them all.' 
 
 " ' Take them all !' cried our friend. ' Why, 
 my good woman, how did you apply them ?' 
 
 " ' O, I managed nicely,' said the wife, look- 
 ing quite contented with herself. * For variety's 
 
6 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 sake, I boiled one half and made a fry of the 
 other. The first he got down very well, but 
 the second made him very sick. But what he 
 took was quite enough," continued she, seeing 
 some horror in the Doctor's countenance, " for 
 he was better the next morning, and to-day he 
 is quite well.' 
 
 " « Umph ! ' said the Doctor, with a sapient 
 shake of the head. ' If they have cured him 
 that is sufficient; but they would have been 
 better applied externally."* 
 
 " The woman replied that she would do so 
 next time ; and I doubt not, that if ever fate 
 throws a score of unfortunate leeches into her 
 power again, she will make a poultice of them." 
 
 " But there is no miracle in your story, my 
 good brother," exclaimed the colonel, as the 
 other concluded ; " you vowed you would tell a 
 much better story than mine. Now my friend's 
 horse was cured by a whisper, your patient's 
 sore-throat by an emetic ; the one was miraculous 
 the other nothing more than common." 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 " O, if you want a miracle," replied his 
 brother, " you shall have one, and out of the 
 same province also." 
 
 A MIRACLE. 
 
 Prince Hohenloe, I mean the great miracle- 
 monger of Germany, has surely said enough 
 and done enough to convince Europe, Asia, 
 Africa, and America, that miracles are quite as 
 easy now-a-days, as they were a thousand years 
 ago, and that good Dame Nature has grown 
 somewhat doating, and will let him do anything 
 he likes with her. Now, I believe it thoroughly, 
 for more reasons than one, and do not scruple to 
 call all the world fools who disbelieve it. At all 
 ^events, I am sure to have one half of the old 
 women of Europe on my side ; and besides, I 
 can vouch the matter from ocular observation : 
 that is to say, not that Prince Hohenloe com- 
 mits miracles, but that even without him, they 
 are as easy as ever — so easy, I am sure I could 
 do one myself. But to my tale. 
 
8 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 There is a deep embowering lane, not far 
 from Qorsieul, where the road winds slowly- 
 down between two high chffy banks, till it 
 comes to a low dell, through which flows one of 
 the clearest streams I ever saw, so pure, so 
 beautiful, the peasants have seemingly thought 
 it next to sacrilege to hide it even by a bridge, 
 and left it openly to traverse the road and wash 
 your horse's weary feet before he begins the 
 long ascent of the opposite hill. Though steep 
 and fatiguing, that road has still a peculiar sort 
 of charm, which compensates the trouble of 
 climbing to the top; and even were the ascent 
 less difficult, one would be tempted to linger 
 long in the sweet contemplative shade and si- 
 lence that hangs about it. The rocky banks 
 break into a thousand picturesque forms; and 
 wherever a patch of vegetable earth has been 
 able to fix itself, there has sprung up the richest 
 verdure, varied by a thousand shrubs, and herbs, 
 and flowers, — honeysuckle, and eglantine, and 
 sweet-briar, and the pure, large convolvulus, and 
 the deep blue pervanche, the lily of the fields, 
 the hyacinth and the violet. Above, the trees 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 9 
 
 hang as if planted in the air, and throw a green, 
 soft shade across the rich tints of the road, 
 except where a gleam of sunshine breaking 
 through, catches upon the salient points of the 
 rock, and chequers the deep shadows of the 
 leaves with a dancing light. The silence to the 
 ear has the same effect as the shade to the eye ; 
 for there no sound is to be heard, except when 
 some wild bird bursts into song amidst the trees 
 above, or when a low, sweet murmur rises up 
 from the stream below. There is, as I have 
 said, a magical charm in the whole, which com- 
 pels one to linger in his progress; yet there 
 is a reward in store for those who climb to the 
 top ; for suddenly the whole scene changes, and 
 one of the most extensive prospects bursts upon 
 the eye that can be conceived ; hills, and valleys, 
 and villages, and woods, and streams, mingled 
 in gay confusion, growing fainter and fainter in 
 the distance, till the far ocean closes the whole, ' 
 looking like a faint cloud upon the border of 
 the sky, from which indeed it would scarcely be 
 distinguished, did not the bold Mont St. Michel 
 rise abruptly up, and catching all the rays of 
 
 B 5 
 
10 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 the sun, mark the limits of the horizon. In 
 front, as a sort of foreground to the landscape, 
 stands the little chapel of St. Anne, with a few 
 houses surrounding it, and a group of trees 
 sheltering it from the wind. 
 
 I was one day riding to Corsieul with my 
 
 friend. Monsieur R , to see the curious 
 
 Roman remains which have been found in that 
 neighbourhood, when, as we mounted the hill, 
 and came suddenly in sight of the chapel of St. 
 Anne, we saw a vast variety of booths and tents, 
 with a multitude of people, men, women, and 
 children, in all their gay holiday attire, waiting 
 round the chapel for the commencement of the 
 mass. " I had forgot that to-day is the fete of 
 
 St. Anne," said R , " would you like to see 
 
 a miracle ? There is one performed here every 
 year." 
 
 " Above all things, let us see it," replied I. 
 So we dismounted, and went into the chapel. 
 There were a great many people waiting about, 
 to see (I suppose) if they could get a bit of 
 miracle too ; but above all others, we remarked 
 one old woman, with whom the saint had to 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. IJ 
 
 deal more particularly. She seemed very poor, 
 and very devout ; for, not being able to kneel, 
 from her lameness, she sat before the shrine 
 telling her beads, and praying as hard as she 
 could ; while a young priest stood beside her to 
 keep off the profane vulgar, being probably of 
 opinion, with the copy-line, that, " evil commu- 
 nications corrupt good manners." However, we 
 remarked that her dress was that of a remote 
 canton, and we learned from the people round 
 that she was a stranger, come from a great way 
 to see what St. Anne would do for her. " A pro- 
 phet is no prophet, in his own country," says 
 the old proverb, and I rather think that saints 
 take care not to practise their miracles upon 
 their next-door neighbours. However, the mass 
 commenced, and at the appointed place the old 
 lady began to cry out. The priests swung their 
 censers at her head, as if they would have broke 
 it ; and before the mass was over, the miracle 
 was completed, and the lame woman firmly re- 
 established on her legs. 
 
 We spent a very pleasant day at Corsieul, 
 and before we returned, it was dark. In passing 
 
12 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 by the Chapel of St. Anne, however, we saw 
 all the tents and booths, illuminated ; cider and 
 eau de vie handing out in abundance ; and, in 
 short, a complete fair, in honour of the miracle 
 and the saint. Hearing the dulcet notes of a 
 cracked fiddle in one of the tents, we dismounted 
 and went in, when, to our surprise, we beheld 
 the miraculous old lady dancing away as hard 
 as she could, and doing dos-d-dos with a bum- 
 kin of Corsieul. Now let those deny miracles 
 that like — I saw this myself. I do not mean to 
 say I saw that the woman was lame, but I will 
 swear that she danced. 
 
 Our next evening's contributions were of a 
 more serious character, and the two first came 
 from the pen of my excellent friend Colonel 
 
 W , whose long residence in India, though 
 
 it had injured his health, and whitened the hair 
 upon his brow, had not taken away one fine 
 feeling or impaired one high principle. 
 
13 
 
 THE REPROOF OF ALLT. 
 
 In a country, situated at the northern extremity 
 of India, and upon the very verge of the deH- 
 cious valley of Cachmere, which it rivalled in 
 beauty and surpassed in luxury, hved Alii el 
 Assur, the glory of his illustrious house. None 
 of the Oolasses of Afghaunistan had ever pro- 
 duced so many great men, none had ever so 
 glittered with treasure, none had ever so shone 
 in arms, as the tribe of Assur. But the fame 
 of his ancestors was to the glory of Alii as the* 
 pale light of the morning-star, when the sun 
 begins to beam upon the heavens. The day 
 rose upon his splendour but to set upon his 
 magnificence. Every hour saw his riches in- 
 
14 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 crease, and every hour saw his power ex- 
 tended. 
 
 But not for w^ealth alone was he famed ; his 
 wisdom and his knowledge were wafted to every 
 quarter of the earth. The morning heard his 
 words repeated in the east ; the evening Ustened 
 to his saying in the west : the southern star 
 beheld his advice followed, and his counsels were 
 borne on the wings of the north wind. For in 
 the dawning of his youth, Alh had travelled over 
 distant countries, and wandered among unknown 
 people. Fringuistan had imparted to him all 
 her arts; and all the wonders of Africa had 
 been displayed before his eyes. He had con- 
 versed with the Moolahs of all lands, and spoke 
 the tongues of many nations. 
 
 And Alii knew that he was wise. The pride 
 of knowledge revelled in his heart, and he said, 
 " There is no God, for I cannot see him, neither 
 can mine ear hear his voice ; and if there exist 
 a Being governing the mighty universe with 
 power and wisdom, why is evil permitted in the 
 world ? and why has he acted as he has done ? 
 It is against my reason to believe this thing, 
 neither can my mind give it credit." 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 15 
 
 At five hours journey from one of the palace« 
 of Alii el Assur, there dwelt a certain hermit, 
 who was much revered for his wisdom and sanc- 
 tity, and much loved for the mildness of his 
 heart. He lived afar from the rest of his race, 
 because he loved contemplation, not that he 
 loved not man : and in the solitude of the de- 
 sert he waited for the angel of death. 
 
 And a desire entered into the heart of Alii to 
 hear the words of the Solitary : " For where is 
 the learned man," exclaimed he, " with whom I 
 have not conversed? and where is there know- 
 ledge that I have not sought for it ?" 
 
 He mounted his horse while day was yet 
 young in the sky ; and, while the dew which 
 evening had left still glittered undisturbed on 
 the bosom of the flowers, proceeded, without 
 attendants, to seek the place where the hermit 
 made his abode. Nature was robed in her 
 beauty, as a young bride, to meet the warm 
 glances of the early sun : and the heart of Alii 
 was glad, and expanded io the loveliness of the 
 world. He directed his coinse by the river 
 Hydaspes, that, like a golden lizard, drew along 
 
16 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 its mazy track, in the beams of the rising day. 
 Its limpid waters seemed hving in the rays, so 
 full were they of motion and of music ; and the 
 rays, like divers, seemed to dip through the 
 transparent waves, and raise the bright pebbles 
 from the bottom to the surface of the stream. 
 The banks were covered with flowers, and gay 
 water-lilies, like youthful maidens in their pride 
 of beauty, danced upon the bending v/aves. All 
 was at first fresh and delightful, as the spring of 
 early life ; but soon the sun rose high above the 
 mountains, the birds retired to the shadow of 
 the trees, the wild beasts couched in the deepest 
 recesses of the jungle, and Alii grew weary and 
 faint with the heat of noon. However, the 
 river itself, as if tired of the glare of sunshine, 
 led its waters into the gloom cf the forest, and 
 Alii, following its course, quickly heard the 
 roaring voice of the cataract, and his heart was 
 rejoiced, for the dwelling of the hermit looked 
 upon the fall of the waters. The sound grew 
 louder and louder, the trees fell away from the 
 strife of the stream, and the river again ap- 
 peared forcing its way between the high rocks, 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 17 
 
 which, approaching gradually towards each other, 
 constrained it to plunge furiously over the pre- 
 cipice into the valley below. 
 
 Sitting at the foot of the crags was an old 
 man, whose white beard descended below his 
 girdle. His dress was as simple as his heart 
 was pure ; his form was stately and erect, and 
 his eye beamed with the light of a benevolent 
 spirit. More than a hundred winters had shed 
 their snows upon his head, and more than a 
 hundred summers had led him to the brink of 
 the grave : his look w^as fixed upon the mist 
 which arose fi-om the cataract: his mind was 
 bent upon the cloud which hangs over eternity ; 
 and his soul was elevated with the thoughts of 
 death. 
 
 AUi dismounted and saluted the man of years. 
 " My son," said the hermit, " thou seemest fa- 
 tigued with exercise, and exhausted with the 
 heat. Enter into this cave, which is my dw oil- 
 ing ; eat of the food which is prepared for the 
 stranger; rest and refresh thyself; and when 
 thy limbs have recovered their vigor, and thy 
 mind is calmed by repose, come and we will 
 
18 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 hold communion of this world, and what is be- 
 yond." 
 
 Alii entered the cavern, and returned after a 
 short space, and sitting down by the old man, 
 he poured forth the thoughts of his bosom. 
 
 " How beautiful is nature!" said he; "how 
 lovely in every season ! how mild in spring ! 
 how gay in summer ! how luxuriant in autumn ! 
 how grand in the winter storm ! and yet to man 
 the spring brings illness, the summer yields 
 fatigue, the autumn demands his labour, and the 
 winter sees his death ! Miserable in the midst 
 of perfection, desolate in the heart of plenty, and 
 wretched is he, even in the moment of enjoy- 
 ment. \Vhat is he but a mixture of clay ren- 
 dered sensible to pain, and affections destined 
 to be quelled in death ? And yet this animated 
 mass of earthly sorrow vainly pictures to him- 
 self a Being whom he calls all good, who sees 
 his misery, yet will not alleviate it, and who 
 gave him being but to render him unhappy. 
 Can this thing be ? No !™there is no God. It 
 is but the monstrous imagination of man's own 
 heart !" 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 19 
 
 "Wliat is there," answered the old man, 
 " that has not a cause ? And if each thing has 
 a cause, all must have a cause ; and that which 
 was the cause of all, must have power over all, 
 must love all, and protect all which it caused. 
 And what is man, the insect of an hour, that he 
 should say, I cannot understand, therefore I 
 will not believe ? Alii el Assur ! (for by thy 
 thoughts do I know thee,) listen to the words of 
 experience — hearken to the voice of years — mark 
 what I shall say to thee ; for I am old, and thine 
 own wisdom shall tell thee that my words are true ! 
 
 " Know then, that at the bottom of the sea 
 there is a certain animal, whose size is so mi- 
 nute, that ten of them would stand upon the 
 point of thy scymitar. This animal never stirs 
 from the place of its birth; and the term of 
 its life is shorter than the being of a butterfly. 
 It so happened, that an insect of this kind fell, by 
 chance, upon the back of one of those large 
 amphibious creatures which sometimes betake 
 themselves to the land, and thus it was carried 
 within sight of the dweUing of man. When it 
 returned to its companions of the ocean, it 
 
20 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 related all the wonders it had seen, but found no 
 one to believe. 
 
 " ' Thou tellest us,' said one, '.that there is a 
 being on the earth whose size is immense, and 
 whose faculties are so wonderful, that all nature 
 is open to his view ; whose vast sight could com- 
 prehend the whole of this rock ; and in short, 
 whose senses are excellent in every particu- 
 lar : and yet thou sayest, that this being 
 is stupid enough to move from place to place 
 without being forced to do so ; and has the 
 excessive folly to live on the land instead of 
 dwelling in the sea, the natural element of all 
 creatures existing. But granting even all that 
 to be true, thou hast also said, that this great 
 being builds himself a shell to creep into. Now, 
 were he endowed with the powers you describe, 
 he would of course, sit still at ease in one place, 
 and enjoy the fluid that circulates round him, as 
 we do. In this, as well as in a thousand other 
 points, thy story is improbable and inconsistent, 
 nor can we beheve it, for our senses tell us it is 
 not true.' 
 
 " ' My friend,' replied the travelled insect. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 21 
 
 * attempt not to scan the actions of a being 
 above thy comprehension, nor measure his power 
 by thy own littleness. Neither tell me that this 
 being is not, because thy mind is too confined to 
 reconcile his deeds to thy ow n ideas.' 
 
 " Man ! man ! vain man !" continued the her- 
 mit, "how much less art thou in comparison to 
 the most High God, than is that insect in com- 
 parison to thee ! Measure thyself by that 
 mountain. Art thou not sm.all ? Yea, as a 
 worm. How petty is the part which that moun- 
 tain forms in the bulk of the earth. That great 
 earth, on which thou art but an atom, is little 
 to many of the planets ; it is insignificant to 
 the sun ; it is as a grain of dust amongst the 
 millions of orbs, which even thy limited sight 
 can behold in the firmament ; and what is it to 
 the immensity of eternal space ?* Look at that 
 grain of sand : canst thou tell me its fabric ? 
 canst thou separate its parts ? No ! — Stretch ' 
 thine ambitious soul; try to grasp the idea of 
 infinity of time, of space, of matter. Thou 
 
 * My worthy friend maintains that our knowledge of astro- 
 nomy is very inferior to that possessed by the ancient tribes 
 of Asia. 
 
22 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 canst do neither. And wilt thou, who canst 
 not comprehend either the greatest or the least, 
 wilt thou measure the actions of Omnipotence, 
 by the standard of thine own littleness, and deny 
 his power, because thou dost not understand its 
 operations ? 
 
 "No, AUi el Assur, return to thine own 
 dwelHng, and be wise enough to know, that the 
 wisdom of the wisest is, to the works of the 
 Almighty, but as a drop of water to the ocean ; 
 aye, to an ocean of oceans: and henceforward, 
 never deny because thou canst not comprehend ; 
 but learn, that with all thy knowledge thou 
 knowest nothing." 
 
23 
 
 THE VISIONS OF HASSAN. 
 
 The day faded into twilight ; the flowers ceased 
 to look upon the sun : the bulbul poured his 
 notes of melody unto the star of the evening; 
 and sleep stole over the sorrows and weariness 
 of the universe. But while the eyes of a world 
 were closed, Hassan the destitute woke to grief 
 and meditated on despair. 
 
 " This morning," exclaimed he, " I was great 
 amongst the greatest, a prince among princes, 
 an eagle on a rock ; but mid-day saw me in the 
 hands of mine enemies, as a gazelle struck bj' 
 the falcon ; and evening beholds me as a wan- 
 dering star, as the genii torch which is hurled 
 into the vacancy of night : cast down from my 
 
24 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 throne, exiled from my land, wandering I know 
 not whither. O Alia ! Alia ! great is thy 
 wisdom, ard merciful thy providence ; suffer not 
 my heart to blaspheme, nor my soul to doubt 
 that thou art the Highest." Thus saying, Has- 
 san cast himself upon the earth, and groaned in 
 the bitterness of his misery. While he lay th'js 
 prostrate and grovelling like a slave upon the 
 ground, he heard a voice, like thunder, echoing 
 through the mountain. 
 
 " Hassan !" said a voice, " weak child of clay, 
 humbled in thy career of pride, dost thou mur- 
 mur that God hath chastised thee ? Now look 
 into the valley before thee, and say, what dost 
 thou see ?" 
 
 Hassan raised his head and looked into the 
 valley. " I see," replied he, " a great stream, 
 and there is a cloud at its source, and a whirl- 
 pool at its conclusion, so that I see not from 
 whence it comes, neither behold I whereunto it 
 goeth." 
 
 " That," said the voice, " is the stream of 
 life. The cloud is the time of man's birth. Be- 
 yond is the eternity past. The whirlpool is 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 25 
 
 the time of man's death, and beyond is the eter- 
 nity to come. All must float from the one to the 
 other, and what man shall say that his lot is 
 harder than another ? for death is a cup of which 
 all must taste, and life is a trial which all must 
 endure. Therefore is God good from the be- 
 ginning even unto the end. Now bow down 
 thy head unto the earth, give praise unto Alia, 
 and then look into the valley once more." 
 Hassan did as the voice commanded. 
 " And now what seest thou ?" said the voice. 
 " I see," answered Hassan, " a cottage and a 
 palace ; and there is above them both a fearful 
 storm of Ughtning and thunder ; and, lo ! the 
 bolt strikes the palace, and the cottage is un- 
 touched." 
 
 " That palace," said the voice, " is prosperity, 
 and that cottage is adversity. The lightning 
 strikes the proud and passes by the humble, and 
 glory is due to God, for his name is the Impar- 
 tial. And again, what dost thou behold ?" 
 
 " I see," said Hassan, " a large nest upon a 
 high place, and in it there lies a young bird. 
 A fox approaches the nest, and the young bird 
 
 VOL. IIL c 
 
26 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 is destroyed; and now behold an eagle drops 
 upon the fox, and it also is no more."' 
 
 " Thou shalt not hurt the smallest," said the 
 voice, " lest the greatest frown upon thee ; nor 
 shalt thou injure the weakest, for the strongest 
 beholds thine actions ; and glory is due to God, 
 for his justice is retributive. Now bow down 
 thine head and pray, that thou mayest be able 
 to endure." And Hassan prayed. " Once 
 more, what dost thou behold ?'' 
 
 " It is my capital city in flames," said Hassan 
 with a firm voice ; " and I see my palace crum- 
 bling in the fire, and I see a woman striving to 
 escape;" and the voice of Hassan became weak, 
 as with great fear. " O Alia ! save her," 
 cried he ; " it is her I have injured ! it is Ze- 
 lekah ! it is my beloved !" And he started for- 
 ward to snatch her from the flames ; but as he 
 was about to plunge over the edge of the pre- 
 cipice, his arm was caught by one behind him. 
 The vision passed away, and the valley once 
 more relapsed into the darkness of night. 
 
 Hassan turned round, and by the trembUng 
 Ught of the stars, beheld a man of venerable 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 27 
 
 years, and benevolent deportment. Hassan was 
 about to speak, but the old man commanded 
 him to listen ; and Hassan instantly remem- 
 bered the voice he had before heard. 
 
 " Listen unto me," said the old man, " for 
 what thou hast seen is all a vision. Thy capital 
 city sleeps in peace ; but it is no longer thine. 
 Thy palace still stands in its strength ; but thou 
 art an exile from its walls. Thy Zelekah lives 
 secure ; but thou hast lost her by thine ov/n 
 passions. I am thy good genius, and hadst 
 thou before listened to my voice, thou wouldst 
 have been even now the lord of a fair land ; the 
 master of a willing people ; the bridegroom of 
 thy beloved. When thou soughtest first the 
 love of Zelekah, the cottage girl, did not a voice 
 remind thee, that thou hadst vowed to wed the 
 daughter of the Caliph, and none but her; and did 
 it not whisper, that though without vice thou 
 mightest sacrifice thine ambition to thy passion, 
 it was criminal to break thine oath, and disho- 
 nourable to forget thy promise ; and when thou 
 didst carry away by force the girl that loved thee 
 well but loved virtue better, did not the same 
 
 c2 
 
•28 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 voice say, * Thou art acting wrong ; thou art 
 misusing the power of a prince ; thou art vio- 
 lating the rights of thy people ?' Man, man ! 
 must thy good genius ever speak in thunder to 
 make thee hear ?" 
 
 Hassan hid his eyes with his hands, and the 
 geni went on. 
 
 " Thou art punished by the loss of thy throne; 
 thou art punished by the loss of thy beloved : 
 but still more shalt thou be punished, by hear- 
 ing that Zelekah, the cottage girl, was the 
 daughter of the Caliph, — was thy promised bride 
 — whom the wisdom of her father had absented 
 from the too great splendour of his court." 
 
 " Alia ! Alia !" cried Hassan ; " deeply, but 
 justly, hast thou chastised my wickedness." 
 
 " There is peace," said the geni, " in re- 
 pentance. It is still in thy power to retrieve 
 thy fortunes, and thou shalt ever be wiser from 
 thy sorrows. Go, and remember, that when 
 thou thinkest thyself most alone, then is the 
 eye of God upon thee, and that every bad deed 
 incurreth the wrath of Him to whom the greatest 
 sovereign of the earth is but as a worm, yea. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 29 
 
 less than the meanest of insects. That God 
 himself is good, and by no means will he endure 
 evil." 
 
 Hassan cast himself at the feet of the geni ; 
 but when he raised his eyes, the old man was 
 no longer there, and he found himself lonely on 
 the brink of the precipice ; but nevertheless his 
 heart was much hghtened, and his mind was 
 calm; and, instead of yielding to despair, he 
 now prepared for whatever fortune could inflict, 
 or constancy endure ; and laying himself down, 
 sleep came over his eyes, and lulled the sorrows 
 of his heart. 
 
 The morning was bright in the east; the .sun- 
 beams wandered over the hills ; the flowers per- 
 fumed the early breeze ; the woods were melo- 
 dious with the warbling of the birds ; and crea- 
 tion was animated with the wakening hum of 
 life; when Hassan woke from his slumber, 
 chastened by adversity, and strengthened by 
 repose. " When," said he, " when have I, on 
 the glittering alcove, resting on softness and 
 surrounded by luxury, when have I tasted of 
 calm so unbroken, and sleep so grateful, as on 
 
30 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 this barren rock, unguarded by any but by Pro- 
 vidence, and unseen but by the eye of the 
 Almighty?" And kneeling towards Mecca, he 
 said the prayer of the morning. When he had 
 concluded, he rose, and descended into the 
 valley below, by a narrow path, which wound 
 round the side of the mountain. 
 
 At the bottom of the hill, surrounded by tall 
 palm trees, rose a spring of clear water, pour- 
 ing music and freshness upon the air around ; 
 and as he drew nigh, Hassan beheld the form of 
 a w^oman bending over the fountain, and a 
 strange feeling came over his heart, a mingling 
 of joy and fear ; for he felt as one that comes 
 back to the home of his fathers, and knows not 
 what tidings shall greet his return. But as he 
 drew near, he saw a leopard couching amongst 
 the trees, and prepared to spring upon the girl 
 beside the fountain. Now the heart of Hassan 
 was as the heart of a lion, calm, and without 
 fear ; and drawing his scimitar, he smote the 
 wild beast and drove him forth, wounded and 
 howHng, to the woods ; and turning towards her 
 he had saved, as his mind had presaged, he 
 beheld the light of his soul. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 31 
 
 Zelekah extended her arms towards him. 
 
 " O Hassan !" cried she, " and have I then 
 found thee?" 
 
 Hassan pressed her to his heart. 
 
 " Did Zelekah seek for him that had wronged 
 her," he asked ; " could she still love the tyrant 
 who tore her against her will from the humble 
 habitations of peace and the lowly mansions of 
 uninterrupted quiet?" 
 
 Zelekah answered not, but her silence had a 
 voice, and Hassan's heart was glad. 
 
 " O Zelekah !" said he, " I have learned, 
 by my follies and my punishment, what experi- 
 ence will teach to all men, that adversity may 
 try the body, but that our soul is tried by pros- 
 perity. I have failed in the ordeal, and am un- 
 worthy to enjoy the advantages which my own 
 deeds have forfeited, and which the hand of jus- 
 tice has withdrawn ; but still if thy love remain, 
 Hassan is happier as an exile than as a prince. 
 Come, let us retire to some humble spot ; far from 
 cities and from man's resort, where we may live 
 with peace the number of our days ; and when 
 Azrael shall knock at our gate, we shall meet 
 
32 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 the angel of death with resignation." And 
 Hassan and Zelekah fled from the world, and 
 found peace in solitude. 
 
 Time flew away with his silent wings, chang- 
 ing the face of the world ; and a heavy war 
 vexed the kingdom from which Hassan had 
 been driven. The people remembered him with 
 regret, and began to ask amongst themselves, 
 " Why have we not Hassan, who led us on to 
 victory ; on whose scimitar sat the death of our 
 enemies ? Hassan, the strong arm of war — the 
 mighty man in the battle — the prince that we 
 have chosen, is slain, and our foes rejoice in our 
 defeat. Why have we not Hassan to deliver us 
 from our enemies ?" 
 
 And Hassan heard the tidings ; and baring his 
 arm, he flew to the battle, and smote the ene- 
 mies of the land : and the people rejoicing, 
 seated him gladly on his throne. Zelekah shared 
 his joy, as she had shared his sorrow; and 
 peace and abundance dwelt in the land, and 
 justice and mercy stood on each side of the 
 throne : for Hassan never forgot his vision on 
 the mountain, and remembered that God is 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 33 
 
 good, great, and impartial ; and that evil will by 
 no means be endured by the Almighty. 
 
 After such efforts to amuse and instruct as 
 these on the part of one so much more entitled 
 to repose than ourselves, neither I, nor the friend 
 who was with me, could refuse to do our best in 
 some more laboured composition than a few 
 verses, and, by the third night after, wehad pro- 
 duced the two tales which follow. 
 
 c5 
 
34 
 
 THE STORY OF AZIMANTIUM. 
 
 We are weary of the present — Let us turn and rest our 
 minds for a wbile upon a tale of the past. 
 
 There was a dreamy stillness in the air — there 
 was a golden glory over the sky — there was a 
 music in the far-off hum of distant nature sink- 
 ing to repose — there was a fragrance in the soft 
 breath of the valley, as it stole timidly through 
 the multitude of drowsy flowers, as if afraid to 
 wake them from their evening sleep; all told 
 of one of those few days which last in love- 
 liness from their dawning to their close — so full 
 of every fine essence of joy, that we tremble to 
 see them pass, lest we should never find any- 
 thing so beautiful upon earth again. The whis- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 35 
 
 pering murmur of the small long waves, as they 
 woo'd the quiet sands upon the sea-shore — the 
 pale and timid lustre of the stars, as they shone 
 out, one by one, through the still purple hea- 
 ven — the slow changes of a rosy cloud, as it 
 dallied with an unseen wind — spoke peace! — 
 Peace, the first, last, great blessing — the mighti- 
 est of promises — the object of virtue, of wisdom, 
 of knowledge — the only desire that experience 
 leaves — the hope beyond our life — the glory of 
 eternity — Peace ! 
 
 High-eyried on the rocky eminence, where 
 now the overthrown stones of a massy wall tell 
 of cities and their dwellers, past like shadows 
 down the dim vista of the gone, stood the fair 
 town of Azimantium, with its long-disused bat- 
 tlements, its temples, and its columns, marked 
 in fine lines of shadowy purple, high upon the 
 broad expanse of the rich evening sky. The 
 mountain on which it stood, clothed in the' 
 splendid robe of the setting day's calm violet- 
 colour, hung over the valleys and the plains 
 around, with an air of protecting majesty. On 
 one side, a gentle slope, covered with green })as- 
 
36 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 tures, and clumps of high trees, with ever and 
 anon a temple or a villa in their shade, declined 
 softly towards the fair land of Greece — the 
 country of poetry and song — to which Aziman- 
 tium had long belonged. Two other sides, that 
 towards the Euxine,* and that which looked 
 over Thrace, were rough and steep, broken with 
 gigantic crags; and though many a piece of 
 smooth short turf intervened between the masses 
 of cold grey stone — though many a tree waved its 
 leafy arms, as if in sport, above each rugged cliff, 
 and many a green parasite trailed its fantastic 
 garlanding of verdure over the harsh and stony 
 limbs of the mountain — no footing was there 
 for things of mortal mould. The goat, the sure- 
 footed goat, looked down, with sidelong glance, 
 from the flat summit above, but tempted not the 
 descent; the fox earthed himself at the foot; 
 and but the eagle, of all living things, in his 
 kingly loneliness, chose it for his dwelling, from 
 its very solitude. The fourth side turned to- 
 
 * See Procopius de Edijlcils, lib. iv. cap. xi. Several reasons 
 have induced me to place Aziraantiura on the very shores of 
 the Euxine. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 37 
 
 wards the barbarian enemies of the Grecian 
 name, and frowned defiance in one savage, dark, 
 unbroken precipice. 
 
 But now all was peace around. Splendour, 
 and feasting, and music, reigned through the 
 Grecian empire. The brow of every man was 
 calm and joyful, the voice of every one was rich 
 in poetry and song ; and it would have seemed 
 that nothing but a smile had ever curled the 
 lip, or danced in the eye. O fatal softness ! O 
 hard lot of man ! that peace can never rest 
 wdthout power ! that enjoyment can never con- 
 tinue without strength ! that the shield, and the 
 glaive, and the javelin, should be the only safe- 
 guards of tranquillity ! 
 
 All was peace. Many a century of decaying 
 years had swept over the proud fabric of the 
 Roman Empire, and what had been mighty was 
 now hastening towards a name. The men who 
 had conquered a world, mouldered in the dust; 
 and their children were contented to enjoy. 
 The arms which should have wielded the sword, 
 or braced on the shield, now only raised the 
 cup, or struck the lyre. Voices which, in 
 
86 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 former days, would have breathed the soul of 
 freedom to the swelling hearts of a mighty 
 people, or pleaded for the laws before that 
 senate which should have been immortal, now 
 sung the loose and ribald song, in the halls of 
 luxury and the resorts of intemperance, or urged 
 some vain and subtle theme, in schools that had 
 become schools of folly. Honour was no longer 
 to the brave, or to the good ; and, though peace 
 spread over the whole eastern realm, it was 
 peace bought by tributary gold, won by degra- 
 dation, and spent in effeminacy, indulgence, and 
 vice. 
 
 One small city alone, of the whole empire, 
 still held within its walls the nobler spirit of 
 Rome's ancient days. One small city alone, 
 like an altar to some sublime but nearly for- 
 gotten deity, upheld the flame of virtuous cou- 
 rage—simple, grand, noble, independent — en- 
 joyed the smile of peace, but feared not the 
 frown of war, reposed without softness, and re- 
 joiced without debauchery. That city was 
 Azimantium. Its youth, trained to the nobler 
 amusements, only descended from the free 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 39 
 
 mountain-air of their sky-surrounded dwelling 
 to war with the wild beasts of the forests around, 
 or to chase the swift deer over the Thracian 
 plains. Such were their sports of peace ; and 
 if a lingering influence of the genius-breathing 
 climate taught the Pentehcan marble to start 
 into hfe, woke the Achaian flute, or struck 
 the Teian lyre, the godlike spirit of a purer 
 age gave fire to the song, and vigour to the 
 statue. 
 
 The mighty and majestic scenes amidst which 
 they beat, raised and dignified the hearts of 
 Azimantium ; and though the passions of huma- 
 nity were there in all their force, the better 
 soul, the nobler purpose of the mind, linked 
 those passions to all that is grand and dignified 
 in nature. Tlie aspirations of the spirit, and 
 the desires of the body, were not waging the 
 horrific struggle mutually to destroy each other ; 
 but, joined together in thriiUng fellowship, like ' 
 the immortal twins of Laconia, they strove 
 alone to guide and elevate each other. Love 
 dwelt in Azimantium ; but it was that brighter 
 love, wherein the radiant share of the deathless 
 
40 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 soul invests the earthly portion with a blaze of 
 light. 
 
 I have said that it was the evening of a sum- 
 mer's day — a day such as is hardly known to 
 more northern climates — a day on which the 
 kingly charioteer of heaven seems to hold some 
 high festival, and robe himself in more majestic 
 lustre. The sunshine had passed, and it was 
 evening — but an evening full of rays. It seemed 
 as if some mysterious power had robbed the 
 daylight of half its beams, to weave them into 
 purple with the dark-blue woof of night, and 
 then had studded it over with golden stars, to 
 curtain the cradle of the sleeping earth. 
 
 Through the still calm valleys at the foot of 
 the mountain of Azimantium — by the side of 
 the living stream that sparkled onward on its 
 brief gay course— amidst tall and scattered 
 trees, where the nightingale raised his glorious 
 anthem to the first star — wandered two of the 
 children of that city, who had seen no other 
 dwelling, and never desired to do so. They had 
 risen from infancy in scenes which had every 
 day grown dearer ; and as years had flown, mu- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 41 
 
 tual love, uncrossed, unopposed, untainted, had 
 given those scenes a light, whose spring was 
 in their own hearts, a charm wrought by that 
 potent magician. Affection. They loved as 
 fully as mortal things can love; and from all 
 external nature, from every song, from every 
 sight, a sweet communion of thrilling enjoy- 
 ments gathered itself round their mutual hearts. 
 The memory of all their past was together ; the 
 joy of the present was tasted together; the 
 future — misty and vague as that dim profound 
 must ever be — they never dreamed could be 
 otherwise than, together. One month had yet 
 to fly ere the dearest, because the most durable, 
 tie was to bind Honoria to Menenius for ever ; 
 and now they wandered alone through those 
 sweet valleys, and amidst those soft scenes, un- 
 watched, undoubted, by those whose duty was 
 to guard and protect, because there was not 
 one heart within the bounds of the city, who 
 dared to think that Honoria was unsafe with 
 Menenius. 
 
 They talked of love and hope ; and those 
 bright visions that, in the summer-morning of 
 
42 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 our youth, dance before our dazzled and un- 
 taught eyes, came thick upon them : and they 
 lent each other willing aid to raise fabric after 
 fabric, out of thin air alone, till the unsub- 
 stantial architecture reached to the very sky. O 
 how they dreamt ! and though a sultry and un- 
 nerving air grew up, one knew not whence, cast- 
 ing a sort of doubtful faintness on Honoria's 
 frame ; and though vague rumours of dangers to 
 the state, and new demands from the pensioned 
 enemies of the Eastern Empire, had reached 
 the ears of Menenius, an atmosphere of their 
 own hope surrounded them, in which joy seemed 
 to breathe secure. 
 
 They had wandered long, pouring their souls 
 into each other's bosom, till at length they 
 turned to mount the gentle ascent that led them 
 to their home. And yet they lingered, and yet 
 they paused to take another look over the twi- 
 light-world which spread out beneath, wider 
 and wider at every step as they ascended ; and 
 to say, " How fair !" and still to speak one kind 
 word more. As thus they paused beneath a 
 group of tall trees, near which an ancient 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 43 
 
 tower marked the burial-place of the great of 
 other days, and stretched their eyes over the 
 darkening landscape, a sudden feeling of terror 
 shot through Honoria's breast — she knew not 
 why. She heard nothing, she felt nothing, she 
 saw nothing, which could awaken fear, and yet 
 with a sudden and instinctive impulse, she clung 
 to Menenius, exclaiming, " What is coming ?" 
 
 The horses that were feeding on the slope, 
 with a shrill cry broke in madness down the 
 hill ; an eagle started from the rock below, and 
 screaming, soared into the sky ; while the lover 
 cast his strong arm round her he loved, and un- 
 consciously laid his hand upon his sword. All 
 felt the dreadful coming of some great change. 
 
 It came — with a roar like the accumu- 
 lated thunder of a thousand storms ! The 
 lightning, bursting from no visible cloud, swept 
 over the clear blue sky, and shone amongst the 
 stars ; and in the livid blaze, the towers of Azi- 
 mantium, with each line dark and clear on the 
 broad glare, were seen to quiver, and rock, and 
 fall ; while, beneath the lovers' feet, the earth 
 heaved and panted, as if the globe were rent 
 
44 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 with dying agonies. The air was one wild 
 scream — the sky, from pole to pole, was all on 
 fire — the ground refused its footing. Then 
 came a moment of dead calm. All was silent ! 
 all was still ! and Menenius felt Honoria's arms 
 relax the terrified clasp in which they held him. 
 " It is over, beloved,"' whispered he, as if to 
 break the restored tranquillity even by his 
 voice : "It is over ; thank God, the earthquake 
 has passed by !" 
 
 But before the words were well pronounced, 
 a fitful gleam, a broader flash, another roar, 
 swept through the air ; the ground yawned and 
 quivered ; the tottering tower beside them was 
 hurled in crashing ruins over the brink. Mene- 
 nius caught at a tree for support ; but it, too, 
 shaking hke a willow bough in a storm, swayed 
 to and fro, and staggered as if plucked up by 
 some gigantic force. Its boughs crashed; its 
 centuried roots gave way, and rushing on those 
 who had sought support in its strength, it over- 
 whelmed them in its descent. What was the 
 lover's only thought as he fell ? To save her he 
 loved ; and by a sudden, scarcely conscious, 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 45 
 
 effort of all his natural vigour, he kept her off, 
 while the uprooted tree was dashed upon him- 
 self. 
 
 * * * # 
 
 # # # # 
 
 * ^ ^ -Jv* 
 
 The earthquake had passed by, and become 
 a thing of memory. Nineteen of the towers of 
 Constantinople had fallen ; the walls of Aziman- 
 tium lay broken and destroyed ; and on the day 
 which was to have lighted the marriage torch 
 for Honoria and Menenius, the lover lay, slowly 
 recovering from the evening of the earthquake, 
 and the beautiful girl watched him with glad, 
 yet anxious eyes. The father of Menenius, too, 
 stood beside him, and marked the reviving glow 
 in his son's cheek with joy, although there was 
 a deep and thoughtful shadow on his brow, 
 which brightened into something of triumph 
 and of hope, as his eye ran over the bold and 
 swelling muscles of his frame, and thought that 
 but a few days more would restore that frame 
 to all its pristine vigour. The triumph and the 
 hope were those of a true son of ancient Greece, 
 for they were kindled and inspired by the proud 
 
46 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 thought that the energetic strength of mind and 
 body which were no longer united in himself, 
 would, in his son, prove the safeguard of his 
 country. 
 
 He had news to tell which might well have 
 quelled the feeble spirits of that degenerate 
 age, but Menenius was a child of Azimantium, 
 and knew not fear, even though crushed, and 
 sick, and wounded. He had borne the cautions 
 of the leech, and the restraint of a sick chamber, 
 with somewhat of impatience and disdain ; but 
 when his father told him that the false Bishop 
 of Margus had opened the gates of that city to 
 the barbarian Attila, the destroyer of arts, the 
 w^aster of empires, the scourge of God ; that un- 
 numbered myriads of the Huns were pouring 
 over the frontier barriers of the eastern empire ; 
 that Sirnium and Sardica, Ratiaria and Naissus, 
 had fallen, and that but a few days more would 
 see the blood-gorged savages beneath the rocks 
 of Azimantium, Menenius became docile as a 
 lamb to all that might hasten his recovery. 
 
 Honoria's cheek grew pale, and her lip forgot 
 its smile, but not a word of fear was breathed 
 upon the air, and her dark, dark eye shot out 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 47 
 
 rays of more intense and brilliant light, as she 
 gazed on each piece of her lover's armour, and 
 scanned them jealously for fault or flaw. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 'w ^ ^ * 
 
 # * * * 
 
 There was a cry through the whole of Greece, 
 " They come ! They come !" Over the fields, 
 through the valleys, on the mountains ; from 
 voice to voice, and castle to castle, and city to 
 city, the cry went forth, " Death to the nations ! 
 They come ! They come ! Vultures, prepare 
 to feast ! They come ! They come !" 
 
 All fell down before them or fled, and those 
 who timidly spoke but the name of war, died by 
 their own hearths. Fortress after fortress, tow n 
 after town, was attacked and taken, and plun- 
 dered and destroyed; not one stone was left 
 upon another, and captivity and the sword shared 
 the children of the land between them ; and 
 still went on the cry, " They come ! They come ! 
 Vultures, prepare ! They come ! They come !" 
 
 The weak luxurious Romans of that degene- 
 rate day, knew not the very arms with which 
 to oppose their barbarous enemies. What did 
 
48 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 the song avail them ? What the dance ? What 
 the wine-cup and the feast ? Could the soft- 
 tongued sophist cheat the dark Hun from his 
 destined prey? Or the skilful lawyer shew 
 Attila the code which forbade the strong to 
 plunder and subject the weak ? No, no ! After 
 three disgraceful scenes of defeat, all fled, or 
 yielded, or died, or were made slaves, and the 
 whole land was red v.dth flaming cities, and 
 with blood-stained fields. 
 
 At length, the watchers on the steep of Azi- 
 mantium beheld a dim cloud sweeping over the 
 distant prospect, so vast, so mighty, that the 
 whole land seemed teeming with a fearful birth. 
 " They come ! They come !" was all the cry ; 
 " They come ! They come ! Tlie myriads of 
 the North ! Warriors, prepare your swords ! 
 They come ! They come !" 
 
 On they swept, like the wind of the desert. 
 The ruined walls of Azimantium, rifted by the 
 earthquake, offered nothing to oppose their pro- 
 gress. Three sides, indeed, were defended by 
 Nature herself, but the fourth was free, and up 
 the soft slope they rushed, tribe upon tribe, na- 
 tion upon nation, flushed with conquest, hard- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 49 
 
 dened to massacre, eager for spoil, contemptu- 
 ous of danger and death. 
 
 Across the narrowest part of the approach — 
 where the steep natural rock on one side, and 
 the chasm left by the overthrown tower on the 
 other, impeded all passage but by the smooth 
 ascent — in long bright line, with casque, and 
 buckler, and blade, stood the youth of Aziman- 
 tium, between their dear familiar homes and 
 the dark enemy. On rushed the Huns, with 
 glad eyes gleaming in the fierce thirst for blood. 
 The horsemen came first, their harness loaded 
 with the golden ornaments of plundered cities, 
 and hanging at each knee the bleeding head of 
 a fresh slain Greek, while myriads of foot 
 swarmed up behind them, so that, to the eyes 
 above, the whole steep appeared alive with a 
 dark mass of rushing enemies. An ocean of 
 grim faces was raised to the devoted city, and 
 glared upon the young band of Azimantines, as 
 the first-prepared sacrifice to the god of victory. 
 Nearer and more near they came. Forth flew 
 the Scythian javelins, and, repelled from a thou- 
 sand shields, turned innocent away, and then, the 
 VOL. in. D 
 
50 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 gazers from the house-tops of Azimantium might 
 see the closer fight engaged. The unbroken 
 line of gallant champions still maintained the 
 strife against the swelling multitude that rushed 
 like a tremendous sea upon them. Barbarian 
 after barbarian fell stricken from his horse, and 
 still they saw the battle rage, and swarms of 
 fresh enemies pour up to the assault. Still 
 waved the swords, still advanced the spears, and 
 still the bands of Azimantium held their narrow 
 pass, while behind them stood the old men of 
 the town, to encourage them by the presence of 
 their fathers — to carry them fresh arms — to bear 
 av/ay the dead. 
 
 But oh, what a sight it was, when first the 
 gazers beheld four of the parents separate from 
 the rest of the wavering crowd, and, bearing a 
 heavy burden, come back towards the city ! Oh, 
 with what terrified speed did mothers, and sisters, 
 and wives, and the beloved, rush forth to meet the 
 ghastly spectacle, and learn the dreadful truth ! 
 And oh, how they crowded round, when the old 
 men laid down their load, and, the cloak cast 
 back, shewed the fair boy stricken in his spring 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 51 
 
 of beauty, the red blood clotted in his golden 
 hair, the energy of being passed from his young 
 eyes, and the " pale flag of death advanced" 
 where the joy of hfe had reigned. 
 
 His sister wrung her hands and tore her hair, 
 and wept, but his mother gazed calmly, proudly, 
 painfully, upon the clay. Then bending down 
 to take one kiss of his cold cheek, " Weep not," 
 she cried, " weep not, Eudocia, for your bro- 
 ther ! He, the first, died for his country ! My 
 child is in heaven !" 
 
 " They come ! They come !" was shouted 
 from below ; " Fly to the altars ! Lo, they 
 come ! they come !" and breaking through the 
 line of brave defenders, on rushed a body of the 
 Huns. On, up the steep they urged their horses, 
 reeking with blood and battle — on, on, towards 
 the city. The women fled to the churches and 
 to the shrines, but there was none to defend the 
 town; the streets were vacant; the youths and 
 the old men had ahke gone forth to the battle ; 
 the Huns were at the gate, and all seemed 
 lost. 
 
 It was then that Menenius, red from the 
 
 d2 
 
 U. OF ILL LIB. 
 
52 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 brow to the heel with the blood of his enemies, 
 shouted to his brave companions to follow him, 
 and hurling a gigantic Scythian down the steep, 
 with one bound he passed the chasm, and lighted 
 on a point of rock where the foot of man had 
 never stood before — another brought him to a 
 higher crag, whence a small green ridge ran round 
 the steepest of the precipice under the city walls. 
 
 One after another his bravest comrades fol- 
 lowed. Some missed their footing and were 
 dashed to atoms on the rocks below ; but still 
 another and another succeeded, for Azimantium 
 knew not fear. The Huns were on their 
 threshold, and who dared hesitate ? A hundred 
 of the most agile passed the depth, pursued the 
 green path, cleared another and another spring, 
 reached the city wall, climbed over its ruined 
 stones, and in the narrow entrance street met 
 the victorious Huns, who had paused to plunder 
 the first shrine they found. 
 
 No words were spoken : nor javelins nor 
 arrows were now used ; brow to brow, and sword 
 to sword, the struggle was renewed. But who 
 can conquer men who combat for their hearths ? 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 53 
 
 The Huns fell, died, or were driven back ; for 
 that narrow way had no outlet but by the gate 
 through which they had entered, and the close 
 street where fought the youth of Azimantiuni. 
 Not a Grecian glaive fell in vain, and at every 
 step Menenius trod upon a slain barbarian. 
 Like a reaper, each sweep of his unceasing arm 
 made a hollow vacancy in the rank before him, 
 and death grew so fearfully busy amongst the 
 Huns, that vague imaginings of some superna- 
 tural power being armed to their encounter, 
 took possession of their bosoms. The form of 
 the young hero swelled to the eyes of their fancy. 
 " It is a god !" they cried ; " it is a god !" 
 They shrank from his blows — they turned — 
 they fled. Those who were behind knew not 
 the cause of terror, but caught it as it came. 
 Each saw his fellow flying, and, touched by 
 the same dim unnerving influence, sought but to 
 fly. " A god ! a god !" they cried, and rushed 
 forth tumultuously on those who followed to- 
 wards the city. 
 
 The broken line of Azimantium through 
 which they had forced their way, now divided 
 
54 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 into two by the barbarian multitude, still waged 
 terrific warfare on either side, while Menenius, 
 pressing on with his companions, drove the 
 ferocious Huns from the gate. The contagious 
 terror of the fugitives spread to those without, 
 and all were hurrying down the descent, when 
 one chief rushed through the struggling crowd. 
 " A god ?" he cried. " This hand shall try his 
 immortality !" And on he urged his steed 
 against Menenius. 
 
 For an instant the Greeks paused in their pur- 
 suit, and the barbarians rallied from their flight, 
 and all eyes turned upon the Hun and his oppo- 
 nent. The fate of Azimantium — the last relic of 
 Grecian and of Roman glory — ^hung upon that 
 brief moment. An instant decided all, for before 
 fear could become hope in the hearts of the 
 Huns, the charger of the barbarian chief was 
 wild upon the plain, and he himself, cleft to the 
 jaws, lay motionless before Menenius. A thou- 
 sand souls seemed in the hero's bosom, and plung- 
 ing into the midst of the enemies, he drove them 
 down the steep. All Azimantium followed, 
 and their footsteps were upon the necks of the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 55 
 
 dying. The rout was complete, and terror and 
 dismay hung upon the flank of the defeated 
 Huns; but still Menenius urged the furious 
 pursuit. On, on he cleft his way. He marked 
 not, he saw not who was near, he heeded not, 
 he felt not what opposed him. His eye was 
 fixed upon a white and fluttering object which 
 was borne along amidst the brown masses of the 
 flying barbarians, and towards it he rent his way, 
 while his unwearied arm smote down all things 
 that impeded his progress, as if but to make a 
 path to that. 
 
 As long as the rout and the pursuit were con- 
 fined by the narrow sides of the ascent to Azi- 
 mantium, he kept that one spot in view ; but 
 afterwards, when the path of the flyers opened 
 out upon the plains, the horse which bore it 
 carried it away from his straining eyes, while 
 the grey falling of the evening gave every dis- 
 tant thing a vague, shadowy, uncertain form, like 
 the objects of the past seen through the twilight 
 memory of many years. — He followed it to the 
 last — night fell, and it was lost. 
 
 With triumph and with song the children of 
 
56 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Azimantium wound up towards the city. Joy ! 
 joy ! joy ! was in their hearts, and victory upon 
 their brows. They had overcome the myriads, 
 they had conquered the invincible ! they had 
 rolled back the barbarian torrent from the gates 
 of their glad city, and every step that they took 
 among the unburied dead of the enemy, told 
 they had won for themselves both victory and 
 peace. With a quick step, but with a cast-down 
 eye and a knitted brow, Menenius, the hero of 
 the triumph, followed the path up the hill. 
 Every voice was glad, every heart seemed joyful, 
 but his ; but there was a fear, a dread, a con- 
 viction in his bosom, that his was the home that 
 had been plundered of its treasure, his was the 
 hearth to be for ever desolate. He strode on 
 to the town, and joy and glory hailed him ; and 
 gratitude and admiration proclaimed his name 
 to the skies. They called him the dehverer 
 of his country, the saviour of his native place — 
 they saluted him as victor — they acknowledged 
 him as chief. 
 
 "Honoria?" he asked, "Honoria?" but no 
 one answered. Honoria was gone. Since the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 57 
 
 entrance of the Huns into the city, Honoria had 
 not been seen : and casting himself down upon 
 a couch, he hid his eyes in his cloak, while 
 gladness and rejoicing filled the midnight air, 
 and all Azimantium was one high festival. 
 
 'Twas strange, 'twas wonderfully strange ! 
 that one small city of the greatest empire in 
 the world — while an inundation of barbarians 
 poured over the land — while fortress and town 
 were cast down and levelled with the earth — 
 while legions fled dismayed, and nations bowed 
 the head — and while the very suburbs of Con- 
 stantinople, the imperial city, beheld the fearful 
 faces of the Huns, — 'twas strange, 'twas won- 
 derfully strange, that one small city should 
 stand in its solitary freedom, bold, fearless, and 
 unconquered. 'Twas strange, 'twas wonderfully 
 strange ! Yet the deeds of the children of 
 Azimantium are recorded in an immortal page, 
 wherein we read, that "they attacked in fre- 
 quent and successful sallies, the troops of the 
 Huns, who gradually declined their dangerous 
 neighbourhood; they rescued from their hands 
 the spoil and the captives, and recruited their 
 
 D 5 
 
58 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 domestic force by the voluntary association of 
 fugitives and deserters."^ 
 
 In every sally, in every irruption made by 
 the Azimantines into the vast tract of country 
 now covered with the Huns, Menenius was the 
 leader; and in the fierce incessant warfare 
 thus carried on, he seemed to find his only 
 consolation, his only enjoyment. At other times, 
 he would sit sad and gloomy, his vacant eye 
 fixed unobserving upon space, and his heart 
 meditating sad dreams. In the visions of the 
 night, too, w'hen weariness dimmed the fire in 
 his heart, and suffered his eyes to close, the 
 white and fluttering object he had pursued in 
 the fight of Azimantium would again be carried 
 off, while imagination would fill up all that 
 sight had not been able to ascertain, and the 
 form of Honoria, torn away from him by the 
 barbarian, would hold forth its phantom arms, 
 and implore aid and succour in vain. Then his 
 vigorous and manly limbs would writhe with the 
 agony of his dreaming soul, till horror and des- 
 pair would burst the bands of sleep, and he 
 
 * Gibbon. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 59 
 
 would start again upon his feet to wreak his 
 great revenge upon the enemy. And yet 
 there was a quahty in his soul which — although 
 while an adverse sword was drawn, or a threat- 
 ening bow was bent, his step was through blood 
 and carnage, his path was terror and death, — 
 yet there was a quahty in his soul which sus- 
 pended the uplifted blow when the suppliant 
 and the conquered clasped his knee ; and many 
 was the train of captives which he sent home to 
 the city ; the pledges of future security and 
 respect to Azimantium. 
 
 At length when seventy cities had fallen 
 before the Scythian hordes, and nought but 
 ruins were left to say where they had been, and 
 to point to after ages the sad moral of an em- 
 pire's decay, the weak Theodosius, unable to 
 protect his subjects, or defend himself, agreed 
 to treat with the mighty Barbarian, and to buy 
 precarious peace with gold and concession, when 
 he dared not purchase true security by the 
 sword. Attila dictated the conditions and The • 
 odosius yielded to all his demands but one, 
 with which the emperor had no power to com- 
 
60 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 ply ; and that was, that the city of Azimantium 
 should restore the captives taken from the Huns. 
 Attila felt how little power a feeble and de- 
 generate monarch could have over a fearless, 
 noble, unconquerable race ; and he felt, too, 
 that all his own power, great and battle-born as 
 it was, could scarcely suffice to crush the hearts 
 of Azimantium. The monarch of all the Eastern 
 empire confessed his inability to compel the re- 
 storation of the captives ; and Attila, the terror 
 of the world, the scourge of God, the conqueror 
 of nations, treated on equal terms with the small 
 city of Thrace. 
 
 Oh, how the heart of Menenius beat, when the 
 monarch of the Huns, by the mouth of his 
 envoys, proposed that all prisoners taken be- 
 tween his myriads and the city of Azimantium 
 should be mutually restored ! And oh, how his 
 bosom heaved, when, surrounded by the Hun- 
 nish cavalry, the little knot of Azimantine 
 captives were conducted up the hill ! But 
 where was Honoria ? where was the beloved ? 
 
 The Huns declared that they had delivered 
 all, and Honoria was not there — Honoria, with- 
 
THE DESULTORY 3IAN. 61 
 
 out whom all was nothing. Ten of the prin- 
 cipal barbarian chiefs were detained as host- 
 ages for the safety of her who had not returned ; 
 while the envoys of Attila were sent back to 
 learn the savage monarch's will. The reply 
 soon came, that if any of the chiefs of Aziman- 
 tium dared to trust himself in the dominions 
 of Attila, he should have free means and aid 
 in making every search for the captive said to 
 be detained. Maximin and Priscus, the mes- 
 sengers added, were then on their journey as 
 ambassadors from the imperial court to the 
 king of the Huns, and if the Azimantine chief 
 would join them at Sardica, he would be con- 
 ducted to the presence of Attila, who loved the 
 brave, even when his enemies. 
 
 Menenius sprang upon his horse, and followed 
 by a scanty train, took the way to Sardica, his 
 heart torn with the eternal struggle of those two 
 indefatigable athletes, Hope and Fear. Still, as 
 he went, his eye roamed over the landscape — for 
 even the absorbing sorrow of his own breast had 
 not obliterated his love for his country — and how 
 painful was the sight upon which the eye rested f 
 
62 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Desolation— the vacant cottage, the extinguished 
 hearth, the threshold stained with blood, the 
 raven and the vulture gorged and gorging, the 
 mangled and unburied slain, the overthrown 
 cities, the deserted streets through which the 
 speedy grass was already growing up where 
 multitudes had trod — the grass — the verdant 
 and the speedy grass, which, like the fresh joys 
 of this idle world, soon covers over the place 
 that we have held when once we are passed 
 away — ruin, destruction, death — such was the 
 aspect of the land. And as he gazed and saw — 
 the thought of all the broken ties and torn fel- 
 lowships, the sweet associations and dear thrill- 
 ing sympathies dissolved, the wreck of every 
 noble art, the scattering of every finer feeling, 
 which the blasting, withering, consuming light- 
 ning of war had there accomplished, found an 
 answering voice deep in the recesses of his own 
 wrung and agonized heart. At the ruins of 
 Naissus — for one stone of the city scarcely re- 
 mained upon the other— he joined the legates of 
 the emperor, and with them pursued his way. 
 His mind was not attuned to much commune 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 63 
 
 with his fellows; and though Priscus, with 
 learned lore, tempted him to speak of science, 
 and arts, and philosophy; and Maximin, with 
 courtly urbanity, which softened and ornamented 
 the sterner firmness of his character, and Vigi- 
 lius, the interpreter, with subtle and persuasive 
 art, strove to win the Azimantine chief to un- 
 bend from his deep gloom, Menenius could 
 neither forget nor forgive, and sadness was at 
 once in his heart and upon his brow. 
 
 Over high mountains, through brown woods, 
 across dark and turbulent rivers, the ambassadors 
 were led on by that part of the barbarian army 
 which was destined to be both their protection 
 and guide. They saw but few of the inhabitants 
 of the country, and little cultivated ground. 
 Droves of oxen and sheep seemed the riches of 
 the land. Pasture appeared to be the employ- 
 ment of the people, and war their sport. 
 
 Their march was regulated by the Huns wKo 
 accompanied them, and by them also was each 
 day's journey limited. The spot for pitching 
 their tents was exactly pointed out, and the 
 hour for departure was not only named, but en- 
 
64 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 forced. Each day, long before that hour came, 
 Menenius was on foot, and he would wander 
 forth in the morning sunshine, and gaze through 
 the deep vacuities in the woods, or let his eyes 
 rest upon the misty and uncertain mountains, 
 while the vast wild wideness of the land would 
 force upon his heart the madness of hoping that 
 his search would prove successful. 
 
 Thus had he gone forth one morning, when, 
 in the glade of the forest where their tents were 
 raised, he saw before him one of the barbarians 
 whom he had never beheld before. The cold 
 stern eye of Menenius rested on him for an in- 
 stant, and then turned to the dim woods again. 
 There was nothing pleasing in his form or in his 
 countenance, and Menenius was passing on. He 
 was short in stature, but broad as a giant, and 
 with each muscular limb swelling with vigour 
 and energy. His head was large and dispropor- 
 tioned — his face flat — his brow prominent — his 
 colour swarthy. A few long and straggling 
 hairs upon his chin, and deep lines of powerful 
 thought, told that he had long reached manhood, 
 while his white and shining teeth, and his bright 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 65 
 
 keen, speckless eye, spoke vigour undecayed by 
 one year too many. 
 
 " Whither stray'st thou, stranger ?" said the 
 barbarian; "can a Greek enjoy the aspect of 
 soHtary nature; can the dweller in cities — the 
 pitiful imitator of the meanest of insects, the 
 ant — can he look with pleasure on the wilds 
 that were given man for his best, and original 
 home?" 
 
 " Thou art ignorant, Hun !" rephed Mene- 
 nius, " and with the pride of ignorance, despisest 
 that which thou dost not comprehend. Man, in 
 raising cities and ornamenting them with art, 
 only follows the dictates of nature herself. To 
 the brutes she gave the wild world, but added 
 no intellect to her gift, for the world, in its wild- 
 est state, was sufficient. To man she gave in- 
 tellect, and the whole universe, full of materials, 
 on which to employ it. He who is most ele- 
 vated by nature herself, will use her gifts in the 
 most diversified ways, and he who least uses 
 them, approaches nearest to the brute. — Nay, 
 barbarian, roll not thy furious eyes on me; I 
 sought thee not, and he who speaks to me must 
 hear the truth." 
 
66 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 For several minutes, however, the Hun did 
 roll his eyes with an expression of fury that 
 strangely contrasted with his perfect silence. 
 Not a word did he speak — not a quiver of the 
 lip betrayed the suppression of any angry tone, 
 and it was not till the fierce glance of his wrath 
 was completely subdued, that he replied, " Vain 
 son of a feeble face, upon whose necks Attila, my 
 lord and thine, has trod, boast not the use of arts 
 which have reduced thy people to what they are, 
 and made them ahke unfit for war and peace. 
 Look at their bones whitening in the fields ; look 
 at their cities levelled with the plains ; look at 
 their manifold and wicked laws, which protect 
 the strong and oppress the weak ; look at their 
 silken and luxurious habits, which eff*eminate 
 their bodies and degrade their minds. This is 
 the product of the arts thou praisest. This is 
 the degrading civihsation that thou huggest to 
 thy heart." 
 
 " Not so, Hun," replied Menenius ; " the 
 corruption which thou hast seen with too sure 
 an eye, springs not from art, or knowledge, or 
 civilisation. It springs from the abuse of wealth 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 67 
 
 and power. The Roman empire was as a man 
 who, covered with impenetrable armour, had 
 conquered all his enemies, and finding none 
 other to struggle with, had cast away his shield 
 and breast-plate, and lay down on a sunny bank 
 to sleep. In his slumber, new adversaries came 
 upon him, his armour was gone, and he was 
 overthrown. The armour of the empire was 
 courage, decision, and patriotism, the slumber 
 was luxury, and thus it was that the myriads of 
 thy lord penetrated to Constantinople, and de- 
 stroyed the cities. The arts thou despisest, be- 
 cause thou knowest them not, had no share in 
 bringing on the slumber which has proved so 
 destructive ; but let the Huns beware, for the 
 giant may awake."' 
 
 " Ha !" cried the barbarian, with a triumphant 
 smile, " what is the city that could stand an hour, 
 if Attilabadeitfall?" 
 
 " Azimantium !" replied Menenius. 
 
 The Hun threw back his broad shoulders, 
 and glared upon the Thracian chief with a glance 
 more of surprise than anger — then gazed at 
 him from head to foot, visited each particular 
 
68 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 feature with his eye, and marked every vigorous 
 and well-turned limb with a look of scrutinizing 
 inquiry. " Thou art Menenius !" he exclaimed 
 abruptly, after he had satisfied himself, " Thou 
 art Menenius! 'Tis well! 'Tis well !— I 
 deemed thou hadst been Maximin." 
 
 " And had I been so," asked Menenius, 
 " would that have made a difference in thy lan- 
 guage?" 
 
 " Son of a free and noble race," repHed the 
 Hun, " ask me no further. That which may 
 well become thee to speak, would ill befit the 
 suppliant messenger of a conquered king ; and 
 that which I would say to the vanquished and 
 the crouching, could not be applied to the brave 
 and the independent. Happy had it been for 
 thy country had she possessed many like to thee, 
 for then she would have fallen with honour : and 
 happy, too, had it been for Attila, my lord, 
 for then his triumphs would have been more 
 glorious." 
 
 Menenius was silent. The tone of the Hun 
 was changed. The rudeness of his manner was 
 gone ; and though he spoke with the dignity of 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 69 
 
 one whose nation was rich in conquests, there 
 was no longer in his language the assumption of 
 haughty superiority which he had at first dis- 
 played. 
 
 " And thou," said Menenius, at last — " Who 
 am I to fancy thee ?" 
 
 *' 1 am Onegesius, the servant of Attila the 
 King," replied the Hun ; " and mark me, chief- 
 tain of a brave people. Hold but little commu- 
 nion with the slaves of Theodosius as they pass 
 through the dominions of the Huns. The Hon 
 may be stung by the viper, if he lie down where 
 he is coiled. Now, farewell;" and thus speak- 
 ing the Hun turned, and with a proud, firm 
 step, each fall of which seemed planted as for 
 a combat, he took his path away from the Gre- 
 cian tents. 
 
 The ambassadors pursued their way, and, 
 after some days, encamped late at night upon 
 the banks of the dark and rushing Tebiscus. 
 
 The heavens were obscured by heavy leaden 
 clouds driven by the wind into large masses, 
 
70 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 through the breaks of which, a dull and sickly 
 moon glared forth with a fitful and a watery- 
 light upon the misty earth. The dim shapes of 
 shadowy mountains, too, were vaguely sketched 
 upon the sky, covered with quick passing shades, 
 while ever and anon the winds howled forth 
 their melancholy song, a wild and sombre an- 
 them to the grim genius of the scene around. 
 
 The tents were pitched, the plain meal was 
 over, the mead had passed round, and sleep had 
 relaxed every weary muscle of the travellers' 
 limbs, when suddenly a hurricane rushed over 
 the whole scene, the river rose, the rain came 
 down in torrents, and the temporary encamp- 
 ment was in a moment overthrown. Drenched 
 and terrified, the legates of the Emperor dis- 
 engaged themselves with difficulty from their 
 falling paviUons, and called loudly for help. 
 Noise and confusion spread around, and the 
 roaring stream rising quickly over the meadow 
 in which they had been sleeping, the howhng 
 of the overpowering wind, and the heavy patter- 
 ing of the rain, added to the disturbance and 
 fear of the scene. 
 
 A moment after, a blazing light upon the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 71 
 
 nearest hill rose like a beacon to direct their 
 steps, and thither the ambassadors were led by 
 the Huns. 
 
 Menenius, after he had provided for the 
 safety of his horses and attendants, followed the 
 rest. As he approached the light, he saw, by 
 the figures of several Huns supplying a large 
 fire of dry reeds with fresh fuel, that it had 
 been raised on purpose to guide any travellers 
 overtaken by the storm, to a place of shelter 
 and repose. Attention and kindness awaited 
 him, and he was instantly led into a large 
 wooden house, where Priscus and Maximin 
 were already seated by a cheerful hearth, at 
 which a young widow, the wife of Attila's dead 
 brother Bleda, was busy in the gentle cares of 
 hospitality. Along the extreme side of the 
 apartment was drawn a line of Scythian slaves, 
 armed as became those who waited on the widow 
 of a king ; and as Menenius entered, their rank 
 was just closing, after having given exit to a 
 form which made the Thracian chief start for- 
 ward, as his eye caught the last flutter of her 
 retiring robes. " Who passed ?" — he exclaimed 
 
72 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 abruptly, forgetting, in the anxious haste of the 
 moment, all idle ceremony. " Who passed but 
 now?" 
 
 " Ella, the daughter of the king, and her 
 maidens," was the reply. The heart of Mene- 
 nius sunk, and his eye lost its eager fire. In a 
 few brief words he excused his abruptness ; but 
 the widow of Bleda was one of those whose kind 
 hearts find excuses better than we can urge 
 them. " The maiden is fair," she said, " and 
 well merits a stranger's glance. In truth, she 
 knew not that there was another guest of such 
 a mien about to be added to our hearth, or she 
 would have staid to pour the camus and the 
 mead. Much would she grieve were she not 
 here to show that part of hospitality." And 
 Bleda's widow sent a maiden to tell her niece 
 that Menenius, the Azimantine chief, sat by the 
 fire untended* 
 
 She came — a dark-haired girl, with a splendid 
 brow, and eyes as pure and bright as if a thou- 
 sand diamonds had been melted to furnish forth 
 their deep and flashing light. A rose as glo- 
 rious as that upon the brow of morning warmed 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 73 
 
 her cheek, and a quick untaught grace moved 
 in her full and easy limbs, like those of a wild 
 deer. But she was not Honoria ; and the eye 
 of Menenius rested on her, as on a fair statue, 
 which, in its cold difference of being, however 
 lovely, however it may call upon admiration, 
 wakens no sympathy within our warmer bosoms. 
 
 She, however, gazed on him, as on something 
 new, and strange, and bright ; and there was in 
 her glance both the untutored fire of artless 
 nature, and the fearless pride of kingly race, 
 and early acquaintance with power. For a mo- 
 ment she stood and contemplated the Thracian 
 chief, with her sandalled foot advanced, and her 
 head thrown back, and her lustrous eye full of 
 wild pleasure ; but then suddenly a red flush 
 rose in her cheek, and spread over her brow, 
 and, with a trembling hand, she filled a cup of 
 mead, touched it with her lips, gave it to Mene- 
 nius, and again retired. 
 
 Menenius lay down to rest, but his dreams 
 were not of her whom he had seen. Gay visions 
 of the former time rose up and visited his brain. 
 From out the dreary tomb of the past, long- 
 
 VOL. III. E 
 
74 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 perished moments of joy and hope were called, 
 as by an angel's voice, to bless his slumber — 
 Honoria — A zimantium — happiness. 
 
 Pass we over the onward journey. After a 
 long and tedious march, the ambassadors arrived 
 at the royal village of the Huns, which was 
 then surrounded by uncultured woods, though 
 at present the rich vineyards of Tokay spread 
 round the land in which it stood. Houses of 
 wood were the only structures which were 
 boasted by the chief city of the monarch of 
 one half the earth ; and to the eye of the Greeks, 
 everything seemed poor and barbarous in the 
 simplicity of the Huns. Yet, even lowly as 
 were their cottage palaces, they had contrived 
 to bestow much art on their construction. Fan- 
 tastic trelliswork, and rich carved screens, and 
 wreathed columns, cut of polished and varie- 
 gated woods, were scattered in every direction ; 
 and while the first faint efforts of an approach to 
 taste were to be found in the taller buildings and 
 in the more correct proportions of the royal dwell- 
 ings, the idea of war — the national sport and 
 habitual passion of the people — was to be seen 
 
THE DESULTORY JVIAN. 75 
 
 in the imitative towers and castles with which 
 they had decorated their dwellings of peace. 
 
 Attila himseK had not yet returned from his 
 last excursion ; but a day did not elapse before 
 his coming was announced by warrior after war- 
 rior who arrived, their horses covered with gold, 
 and their followers laden with spoil. All his 
 subjects went forth to gratulate their conquer- 
 ing monarch; and the Greeks, standing on a 
 little eminence, beheld his approach. First 
 came innumerable soldiers, in dark irregular 
 masses, and then appeared, chieftain after chief- 
 tain, all the various nations that he ruled. Then 
 was seen a long train of maidens, in white robes, 
 walking in two lines, each bearing aloft in her 
 hand one end of a fine white veil, which, stretch- 
 ing across to the other side, canopied a row of 
 younger girls, who scattered flowers upon the 
 path. Behind these, mounted on a strong 
 black horse, clothed in one uniform dark robe, 
 without jewel, or gold, or ornament whatever, 
 came the monarch whose sway stretched over 
 all the northern world. 
 
 As he advanced, he paused a moment, while 
 
 E 2 
 
7Q THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 his attendants raised a small silver table, on which 
 the wife of one of his favourite chiefs offered him 
 refreshments on his return. He was still at some 
 distance, but the Greeks could behold him bend 
 courteously to the giver, and raise the cup to his 
 lips. The table was then removed, and onward 
 came the king — nearer — more near — till Mene- 
 nius might distinguish the features of the dark 
 Hun he had met in the forest. 
 
 Menenius sat in the lonely hut which had 
 been appointed for his dwelling, and while the 
 shadows of night fell like the darkening hues of 
 time, as they come deeper and deeper upon the 
 brightness of our youth, hope waxed faint in Eis 
 heart, and dim despondency spread like twilight 
 over his mind. Alone, in the midst of a wild 
 and barbarous land, the depths of whose obscure 
 forests were probably unknown even to the fierce 
 monarch whose sway they owned, how could he, 
 unfriended, unaided, dream that he would ever 
 discover that lost jewel, which had been torn 
 from the coronet of his happiness ? Never ! 
 never ! never to behold her again ! To jour- 
 ney through a weary life, and fall into the chill. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 77 
 
 solitary tomb, without the blessed light of those 
 dear eyes which had been the starhke lamps of 
 his existence— to dwell for ever in ignorance of 
 her fate, while his fancy, like the damned in 
 Hades, could find nothing but the bitter food of 
 horror and despair — Such was his destiny. 
 
 " Attila the king !" exclaimed a loud voice, as 
 he pondered, and Menenius stood face to face 
 with the Monarch of the North, while the hght 
 of the pinewood torch glared red upon the dark 
 features of the Scythian, and gave to those 
 grim and powerful lines a sterner character and 
 fiercer shade. His voice was gentle, however ; 
 and, seating himself on the couch, he spoke with 
 words which had in them a tone of unshared, un- 
 disputed, unlimited authority, but elevated by 
 the consciousness of mental greatness, and tem- 
 pered by admiration and esteem. 
 
 "Chief of Azimantium,'' said the Hun, 
 " while the slaves of a vain and treacherous king 
 wait long ere they are permitted to breathe the 
 same air with Attila, the king of nations dis- 
 dains not to visit the leader of the brave. Mark 
 me, thou chief of the last free sons of Greece ! 
 
78 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 The sword of thy country is broken — the scep- 
 tre of thine emperors passed away. The seed 
 is gathered which shall sow grass in the palaces 
 of kings — the clouds are collected w^hich shall 
 water the harvest of desolation. Greek, I boast 
 not of my victories — it sufficeth Attila to con- 
 quer. But calmly, reasonably measure thy peo- 
 ple against mine, and think whether the small 
 band of Azimantines, were they all inspired by 
 the God of battles with courage like thine own, 
 could save the whole of degenerate Greece from 
 the innumerable and warrior people of the 
 north. What — what can Azimantium do, all 
 unsupported, against a world ?" 
 
 " Each son of Azimantium," replied Mene- 
 nius, " can offer up a hecatomb of Scythian 
 strangers, and give his soul to heaven upon the 
 wings of victory. This will Azimantium — and 
 then —perish Greece !" 
 
 A shadow passed across the monarch's brow. 
 
 " Be not too proud," he said, " be not too 
 proud ! A better fate may yet befall thy city 
 and thy land. So well does Attila love Aziman- 
 tium, that he claims her as his own from the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 79 
 
 Greek emperor ; and to win her citizens to will- 
 ingness, he offers his daughter — his loved — his 
 lovely daughter to her chief. Pause !" he added, 
 seeing the quivering of Menenius' hp ; " pause 
 and think ! Reply not ! but remember that 
 thus may Greece be saved — that the safety or 
 destruction of thy land is upon thy tongue. 
 Pause, and let the sun rise twice upon the me- 
 ditation of thine answer." 
 
 Thus spoke the monarch, and in a moment 
 after, the Azimantine chief was once more left 
 to solitude. Deep and bitter was the smile of 
 contempt that curled the lip of Menenius ; for 
 in the proud glory of his own heart, he forgot 
 how low Greece had fallen amongst the people 
 of the earth, and in the imperishable memory of 
 his love, the mention of another bride was but 
 as the raving of insanity. " I ! — 1 1 — Mene- 
 nius of Azimantium — I wed the daughter of the 
 barbarian ! I become a subject of the Hun ! — I 
 forget Honoria !" 
 
 Another day went down, and Menenius, with 
 the Grecian ambassador, was seated in the halls 
 of Attila, at the banquet which the proud mo- 
 
80 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 narch gave at once to the envoys of the Eastern 
 and Western empire. On a raised platform in 
 the midst of the hall was the couch and table of 
 Attila, covered with fine linen and precious 
 stuffs, while fifty small tables on either side were 
 spread out for the guests invited to the royal 
 feast. An open space was before the board of 
 the monarch, and behind him the hall was filled 
 with a dark fantastic crowd of guards, and at- 
 tendants, and barbarian slaves. 
 
 On the same couch with Attila sat his daugh- 
 ter lerne — that beautiful daughter whom Mene- 
 nius had beheld at the dwelling of Bleda's widow ; 
 and as the Azimantine chief passed by, and pour- 
 ed the required libation to " Attila the Brave," 
 the maiden's eyes fixed motionless on the ground, 
 and the blood rose fast into her cheek, like 
 the red morning sun rising up into the pale 
 twilight sky. Menenius passed on unchanged 
 and cold, and took his place with Maximin, the 
 ambassador of Theodosius. 
 
 The fare of Attila was plain and rude, but 
 the tables of his guest were spread with all that 
 the fearful luxury of Rome itself could have 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 81 
 
 culled from earth and sea. Ere long the cup- 
 bearer filled the golden goblet, and the monarch, 
 rising from his couch, drank to Berec, the 
 bravest of the Huns. Again, after a pause, he 
 rose, but the cup was given him by his daughter, 
 and Attila drank to Menenius, the bravest of 
 the Greeks ! Quick and sparkling flowed the 
 mead, and then an old grey man poured to the 
 wild chords of a barbaric lyre, a song of triumph 
 and of battles, while at every close he proclaimed 
 Attila's bridal day. At length a bright troop of 
 young and happy maidens led in, surround- 
 ed by their linked arms, three brighter than 
 themselves, from whom the Monarch of the 
 North was about to choose a new partner for his 
 mighty throne. Their faces were veiled; but 
 through the long white robes that clothed them 
 shone out that radiant light of grace and beauty 
 which nothing can conceal. Slowly, as if re- 
 luctant, they were brought into the monarch's 
 presence. 
 
 Why quivered the lip of Menenius? Why 
 strained his eye upon that first veiled figure ? 
 The veil is gone ! — To him ! to him she stretched 
 
 £ 5 
 
82 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 forth her hands ! — The table and the banquet 
 are dashed to atoms at his feet, and Honoria is 
 in Menenius' arms. 
 
 A thousand swords sprang from their sheaths 
 — a thousand javehns quivered round the hall. 
 " Traitor ! Madman ! Sacrilegious slave !" was 
 shouted in a thousand fierce voices, and a thou- 
 sand barbarous tongues. But unquailing in the 
 midst stood the Azimantine chief — his left arm 
 round the beating heart of his young bride — his 
 right, armed with that sword which had bowed 
 many a hero to the dust, raised appealing to the 
 Scythian king. " Monarch of the Huns," he 
 cried, " this is the captive I have come to seek. 
 As you are a man — as you are a warrior — as 
 you are a king ! — by your oath — by your ho- 
 nour — by your justice ! yield her to me, her 
 promised husband, and put us safely oft your 
 land. Then if of all these brave and mighty 
 men," he added with a frown, " who draw the 
 sword against a single Greek, there be but ten 
 \vho will meet me brow to brow on the battle 
 plain, I will write it in their blood that I am 
 neither slave nor traitor, but a bold man, who 
 dares to claim and to defend his own !" 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 83 
 
 Fierce wrath, stern revenge, majestic admira- 
 tion, had swept over the countenance of Attila, 
 like the broken masses of a rent thunder-cloud 
 hurled over the sky by the succeeding blast. 
 " Hold !" he cried ; " Warriors ! put up your 
 swords. Chief of Azimantium ! you rob me of 
 a bride; but if this be the captive you have 
 come to seek, Attila 's word is given, and safely, 
 surely, she shall be returned to her home, were 
 she as lovely, as the moon. But with you, 
 Greek, with your companions, Maximin, Pris- 
 cus, and Vigilius, the king has still to deal, and, 
 after what has befallen this day, expect nothing 
 more than justice." As he spoke, he rolled his 
 dark eyes fearfully around, then suddenly raised 
 his hand, exclaiming, " Now, warriors ! now !" 
 and before he could strike a blow, Menenius, 
 unprepared, was seized on all sides, and bound 
 tight in every Umb, together with the envoys 
 from Theodosius. 
 
 All, for an instant, was wild confusion. Ho- 
 noria, with the other women, were hurried from 
 the hall; and Menenius found himself ranged 
 with Priscus and Maximin before the throne of 
 
84 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Attila ; while, in the deathlike, ashy, quivering 
 countenance of Vigilius, the interpreter, who 
 stood beside him, he read detected guilt and 
 certain death. 
 
 " Hired murderers, sent by an imperial slave 
 to slay his conqueror and master," exclaimed 
 Attila, after he had gazed for some minutes 
 upon the Greeks, "do ye not tremble to find 
 your baseness exposed in the eyes of all the 
 universe? Stand forth, Edecon, and tell the 
 warriors of Attila, how these men came here, 
 under the garb of ambassadors, to slay by 
 treachery, in peace, the king that, by battle, 
 they could not vanquish in war. And you, 
 warriors, lay not your hands upon your swords 
 — Attila will do justice to Attila." 
 
 At the command of the king, Edecon, who 
 had been ambassador for Attila at Constanti- 
 nople, stood forth, and declared, that in an in- 
 terview with the Eunuch Chrysaphius, that 
 favourite of the weak Monarch of the East had 
 proposed to him the assassination of his master, 
 and oifered him an immense reward. He had 
 affected to consent, and had that very day re- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 85 
 
 ceived a purse of gold and jewels from Vigilius, 
 the interpreter, who was privy to the whole. 
 The plot he had instantly communicated to 
 Attila, and the purse he now produced. Maxi- 
 min and Priscus, he doubted not, were cunning 
 men, sent to accomplish the scheme with art; 
 and Menenius, beyond question, was the daring 
 murderer to strike the final blow. 
 
 Maximin spoke loudly in his own defence, 
 and Priscus learnedly on the improbability of 
 the tale, while the mouth of Vigilius opened, 
 and his lips quivered, but no sound found utter- 
 ance. Menenius was silent, but he fixed his 
 bold eye upon Attila, who glared upon them all 
 like a tiger crouching for the spring. 
 
 " Maximin and Priscus," said the king, at 
 length, " ye are innocent ! Let them be freed. 
 As for yon trembling traitor, guilt is in his eye 
 and on his cheek; but the sword that should 
 smite Vigilius would be disgraced for ever, and 
 find no blood in his coward heart. Let him 
 buy his life, and pay tw^o hundred pounds weight 
 of gold to him he sought to bribe. — As for thee, 
 Chief of Azimantium — " 
 
 " Thou knowest I am guiltless, Hun !" re- 
 
86 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 plied Menenius, " and bonds such as these have 
 priessed upon my arms too long." 
 
 " Of thy guilt or innocence I know nought," 
 replied the King ; " but this I know, that I will 
 guard thee safely till thine Emperor send me 
 the head of Chrysaphius, the murdering slave 
 who first sought to tempt my subjects into 
 treachery. Away with Vigilius, till he pay the 
 purchase of his base life; and away with this 
 Azimantine, till Orestes and Eslaw, my envoys, 
 bring me the head of the eunuch from my slave 
 
 the Emperor." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * # # # 
 
 * * # * 
 
 In the solitude of a dark unlighted hut, 
 stretched upon a bear's hide, which had been 
 cast down for his bed, lay the young Chief of 
 Azimantium, pondering his hard fate, while the 
 sounds of many a gay and happy voice without, 
 struck vdth painful discord upon his unattuned 
 ear. Dark and melancholy, the fancies flitted 
 across his brain like the visions of dead friends 
 seen in the dim atmosphere of troubled sleep, 
 and he revolved in his mind that bold cowardice 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 87 
 
 of his ancestors, which taught them to fly from 
 the sorrows and dangers of their fate, by the sure 
 but gloomy passage of the tomb. Was it virtue, 
 he asked himself, or vice ? wisdom, or insanity, 
 that allied the last despair to the last hope, and 
 made self-murder the cure of other ills ? And, 
 as he thought, sorrow took arms against his bet- 
 ter mind, and whispered Uke a friend, " Die ! 
 Die, Menenius ! Peace is in the grave !" A 
 new and painful struggle was added to the evils 
 of his state, and still he thought of death as 
 hours and days went by. 
 
 Nor was this all ; for, as the Dacians tame 
 the lions for the imperial shows, the Huns 
 strove to break his spirit, and subdue his 
 high heart, by reiterated anxieties and cares. 
 Now, he was told of wars with the Empire, and 
 the fall of Greece : now, strange whispers were 
 poured into his ear, of some direful fate re- 
 served for himself: now, he heard of the great 
 annual sacrifice offered at the altar of Mars, 
 where a hundred captive maidens washed the 
 platform with their blood. But still, like 
 the great hero of the mighty founder of the 
 Epic song, he rose above the waves that poured 
 
88 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 upon his head, and still answered, " Never ! 
 never !" when the name of Azimantium was 
 connected with the dominion of the Huns. 
 
 It was one night when a darker melancholy 
 than ever oppressed his mind, and despondency 
 sat most heavy on his soul, that the door was 
 cast open, and a blaze of light burst upon his 
 sight. His eyes, familiar with the darkness, 
 refused at first to scan the broad glare; but 
 when at length they did their office, he beheld, 
 in the midst of her slaves, that fair girl lerne, 
 whose offered hand he had refused. Her cheek, 
 which had been as warm as the last cloud of 
 the summer evening, was now as pale as the 
 same cloud when, spirit-like, it flits across the 
 risen moon. But her eye had lost none of its 
 lustre ; and it seemed, in truth, as if her whole 
 soul had concentrated there to give fuller eff"ul- 
 gence to its living light. 
 
 " Chief of Azimantium," said the maiden, 
 "it is my father's will that you be freed, and I 
 — that the generosity of Attila should know no 
 penury — I have prayed, that though Menenius 
 slighted lerne, he should wed the woman of his 
 love even in lerne's father's halls. My prayer 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. iS& 
 
 has been granted — the banquet is prepared — 
 the maiden is warned, and the blushes are on 
 her cheek — a priest of thine own God is ready. 
 — Rise, then. Chief of Azimantium, and change 
 a prison for thy bridal bed. Rise, and follow 
 the slighted lerne." 
 
 " O lady !" answered Menenias, " call not 
 thyself by so unkind a name. Write on your 
 memory, that, long ere my eyes rested on your 
 loveliness, Honoria was bound to my heart by 
 ties of old affection ; and, as your soul is gene- 
 rous and noble, fancy all the gratitude that your 
 blessed words waken in my bosom. Oh ! let 
 the thought of having raised me from despair — 
 of having freed me from bonds — of having 
 crowned me with happiness, find responsive joy 
 in your bosom, and let the blessing that you 
 give, return and bless you also." 
 
 lerne pressed her hand firm upon her fore.- 
 head, and gazed upon Menenius while he spoke, 
 with eyes whose bright but unsteady beams 
 seemed borrowed from the shifting meteors of 
 the night. The graceful arch of her full coral 
 lip quivered ; but she spoke not ; and, waving 
 with her hand, the attendants loosened the chains 
 
90 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 from the hands of the Azimantine, and, starting 
 on his feet, Menenius was free. 
 
 •TT TV* •JV' 
 
 In the brightness and the blaze of a thousand 
 torches, the chief of Azimantium stood in the 
 halls of Attila, with the hand of Honoria clasped 
 in his own. Sorrow and anxiety had touched, 
 but not stolen, her beauty — had changed, but 
 not withered, a charm. Every glance was soft- 
 ened — every feature had a deeper interest — and 
 joy shone the brighter for the sorrow that was 
 gone, hke the mighty glory of the sun when the 
 clouds and the tempests roll away. 
 
 The dark monarch of the barbarians gazed 
 on the work he had wrought, and the joy that 
 he had given; and a triumphant splendour, 
 more glorious than the beams of battle, radiated 
 from his brow. " Chief of Azimantium," he 
 said, " thou art gold tried in the fire, and At- 
 tila admires thee though a Greek — not for the 
 beauty of thy form — let girls and pitiful lim- 
 ners think of that ! — not for thy strength and 
 daring alone — such qualities are for soldiers 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 91 
 
 and gladiators ; but for thy dauntless, unshrink- 
 ing, unalterable resolution — the virtue of kings, 
 the attribute of gods — Were Attila not Attila, 
 he would be Menenius. Thou hast robbed me 
 of a bride ! Thou hast taken a husband from 
 my daughter; but Attila can conquer — even 
 himself. Sound the hymeneal ! Advance to 
 the altar ! Yon priest has long been a captive 
 among us, but his blessing on Honoria and 
 Menenius shall bring down freedom on his own 
 head." 
 
 The solemnity was over— the barbarian guests 
 were gone, and through the flower-strewed pas- 
 sages of the palace, Honoria and Menenius 
 were led to their bridal chamber ; while a thou- 
 sand thrilling feelings of joy, and hope, and 
 thankfulness, blended into one tide of delight, 
 poured from their mutual hearts through all 
 their frames, like the dazzling sunshine of the 
 glorious noon streaming down some fair valley 
 amidst the mountains, and investing every object 
 round in misty splendour, and dreamlike light. 
 The fruition of long delayed hope, the gratifi- 
 cation of early and passionate love, was not all ; 
 
92 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 but it seemed as if the dark cloudy veil between 
 the present and the future had been rent for 
 them by some divine hand, and that a long vista 
 of happy years lay before their eyes in bright 
 perspective to the very horizon of being. Such 
 were the feelings of both their bosoms, as, with 
 linked hands and beating hearts, they approached 
 the chamber assigned to them ; but their lips 
 were silent, and it was only the love-lighted eye 
 of Menenius, as it rested on the form of his 
 bride, and the timid, downcast, but not unhappy 
 glance of Honoria, that spoke the world of 
 thoughts that crowded in their breasts. 
 
 A band of young girls, with the pale lerne 
 at their head, met them singing at the door of 
 their chamber. The maidens strewed their 
 couch with flowers, and lerne gave the marriage 
 cup to the hand of Honoria ; but as she did so, 
 there was a wild uncertain light in her eye, and 
 a quivering eagerness on her lip, that made 
 Menenius hold Honoria's arm' as she was about 
 to raise the chalice to her mouth. 
 
 " Ha ! I had forgot," said the princess, taking 
 back the goblet with a placid smile, " I must 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 93 
 
 drink first, and then, before the moon be eleven 
 times renewed, I too shall be a bride. Menenius 
 the brave ! Honoria the fair ! Happy lovers, I 
 drink to your good rest ! May your sleep be 
 sound ! May your repose be unbroken !" 
 
 And with a calm and graceful dignity, she 
 drank a third part of the mead. Honoria drank 
 also, according to the custom ; Menenius drain- 
 ed the cup, and the maidens withdrawing, left 
 the lovers to their couch. Honoria hid her 
 eyes upon the bosom of Menenius, and the 
 warrior, pressing her to his bosom, spoke gentle 
 words of kind assurance. But in a moment her 
 hand grew deathly cold. " Menenius, I am 
 faint," she cried : " What is it that I feel ? My 
 heart seems as it were suddenly frozen, and my 
 blood changed into snow. — O Menenius ! O 
 my beloved ! we are poisoned ; I am dying ! 
 That cup of mead — that frantic girl — she has^ 
 doomed us and herself to death." 
 
 As she spoke, through his own frame the 
 same chill and icy feelings spread. A weight 
 was upon his heart, his warm and fiery blood 
 grew cold, the strong sinews lost their power, 
 
94 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 the courageous soul was quelled, and he gazed 
 in speechless, unnerved horror on Honoria, while 
 shade by shade, the living rose left her cheek, 
 and the " pale standard " of life's great enemy 
 marked his fresh conquest on her brow. Her 
 eyes, which, in the hour of joy and expectation, 
 had been bent to the earth, now fixed on his 
 with a long, deep, earnest, imploring gaze of last 
 affection. Her arms, no longer timid, circled 
 his form, and the last beatings of her heart 
 throbbed against his bosom. " Thou art dying !" 
 she said, as she saw the potent hemlock spread 
 death over his countenance, " thou too art dy- 
 ing ! Menenius will not leave Honoria even 
 in this last long journey. — We go — we go to- 
 gether !" 
 
 And faintly she raised her hand, and pointed 
 to the sky, where, through the casement, the 
 bright autumn moon poured her melancholy 
 splendour over the Hungarian hills. A film 
 came over her eyes — a dark unspeakable grey 
 shadow ! and oh, it was horrible to see the 
 bright angel part from its clay tabernacle ! 
 
 In the athletic frame of the lover, the poison 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 95 
 
 did not its cruel office so rapidly. He saw her 
 fade away before his eyes — he saw her pass 
 hke a flower that had lived its summer day, in 
 perfume and beauty, and faded with the falling of 
 the night. He could not — he would not so lose 
 her. He would call for aid — some precious 
 antidote should give her back to life. He un- 
 clasped the faint arms that still clung upon his 
 neck. He rose upon his feet, with limbs re- 
 duced to infant weakness. His brain reeled. 
 His heart seemed crushed beneath a mountain : 
 but still he staggered forth. He heard voices 
 before. " Help ! help !" he cried, " Help, ere 
 Honoria die !" With the last effort of exist- 
 ence, he rushed forward, tore open the curtain 
 before him, reeled forward to the throne on 
 which Attila held his midnight council — stretched 
 forth his arms — but power — voice— sense — being 
 — passed away, and Menenius fell dead at the 
 monarch's feet. 
 
 " Who has done this ?" exclaimed the king, in 
 a voice of thunder. " Who has done this? 
 By the god of battles, if it be my own children, 
 they shall die ! Is this the fate of Menenius ? 
 Is this the death that the hero of Azimantium 
 
96 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 should have known? — No! no! no! red on 
 the battle-field — gilded with the blood of ene- 
 mies — the last of a slain, but not a conquered 
 host — so should the chief have died. Menenius ! 
 Kinsman in glory ! Attila weeps for the fate 
 of his enemy !" 
 
 " Lord of the world ! Lord of the world !" 
 exclaimed a voice that hurried from the cham- 
 bers beyond, " thy daughter is dead in the arms 
 of her maidens ; and dying, she sent thee word, 
 that sooner than forbear to slay her enemies, 
 she had drunk of the cup which she had mingled 
 
 for them." 
 
 * # * # 
 
 * * # # 
 
 * # * * 
 
 Attila smote his breast. " She was my 
 daughter," he exclaimed, " she was, indeed, my 
 daughter ! But let her die, for she has brought 
 a stain upon the hospitality of her father ; and 
 the vs^orld will say that Attila, though bold, was 
 faithless." 
 
 There was woe in Azimantium, while with 
 slow and solemn pomp, the ashes of Honoria 
 and Menenius were borne into the city. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 97 
 
 In the face of the assembled people, the de- 
 puties of Attila, by oath and imprecation, puri- 
 fied their lord from the fate of the lovers. The 
 tale was simple, and soon told, and the children 
 of Azimantium believed. 
 
 Days, and years, and centuries, rolled by, and 
 a race of weak and effeminate monarchs, living- 
 alone by the feebleness and barbarism of their 
 enemies, took care that Azimantium should 
 not long remain as a monument of reproach 
 to their degenerate baseness. Nation followed 
 nation,- dynasty succeeded dynasty; a change 
 came over the earth and its inhabitants, and 
 Azimantium was no more. Still, however, the 
 rock on which it stood bears its bold front in- 
 wards the stormy sky, with the same aspect of 
 courageous daring wherewith its children en- 
 countered the tempest of the Huns. 
 
 A few ruins, too — rifted walls, and dark 
 fragments of fallen fanes — the pavement of 
 some sweet domestic hearth, long cold — a 
 graceful capital, or a broken statue, still tell 
 that a city has been there ; and through the 
 country round about, the wild and scattered 
 
 VOL. III. F 
 
98 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 peasantry, still in the song, and the tale, and the 
 vague tradition, preserve in various shapes. The 
 Story of Azimantium ! 
 
99 
 
 THE FISHERMAN OF SCARPHOUT. 
 
 TWO CHAPTERS FROM AN OLD HISTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 About midway between Ostend and Sluys, ex- 
 posed to all the fitftd wrath of the North Sea, 
 lies a long track of desolate shore, frowning no 
 fierce defiance back upon the waves that dash 
 in fury against it; but — Hke a calm and even 
 spirit, which repels by its very tranquil humility 
 the heat of passion and the overbearing of pride 
 -r-opposing naught to the angry billows, but a 
 soft and lowly hne of yellow sands. There no- 
 thing grows which can add comfort to existence ; 
 there nothing flourishes which can beautify or 
 adorn. Torn from the depths of ocean, and 
 
 F 2 
 
100 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 cast by the storm upon the shore, sea-shells and 
 variegated weeds will indeed sometimes deck 
 the barren beach, and now and then a green 
 shrub, or a stunted yellow flower, wreathing its 
 roots amidst the shifting sand, will here and 
 there appear upon the low hills called Dunes. 
 But with these exceptions, all is waste and bare, 
 possessing alone that portion of the sublime 
 which is derived from extent and desolation. 
 
 It may be well conceived that the inhabitants 
 of such a spot are few. Two small villages, and 
 half-a-dozen isolated cottages, are the only ves- 
 tiges of human habitation to be met with in the 
 course of many a mile ; and at the time to which 
 this tale refers, these few dwellings were still 
 fewer. That time was long, long ago, at a 
 period when another state of society existed in 
 Europe ; and when one class of men were sepa- 
 rated from all others by barriers which time, the 
 great grave-digger of all things, has now buried 
 beneath the dust of past-by years. 
 
 Nevertheless, the inhabitants of that track of 
 sandy country were less different in habits, man- 
 ners, and even appearance, from those who tenant 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 101 
 
 it at present, than might be imagined; and in ori- 
 ginal character were very much the same, com- 
 bining in their disposition traits resembling the 
 shore on which their habitations stood, and the 
 element by the side of which they lived — simple, 
 unpohshed, yet gentle and humble, and at the 
 same time wild, fearless, and rash as the stormy 
 sea itself. 
 
 I speak of seven centuries ago — a long time, 
 indeed ! but nevertheless then, even then, there 
 were as warm affections stirring in the world, as 
 bright domestic love, as glad hopes and chilling 
 fears as now — chere were all the ties of home 
 and kindred, as dearly felt, as fondly cherished, 
 as boldly defended as they can be in the present 
 day; and out upon the dull imagination and 
 cold heart that cannot feel the link of human 
 sympathy binding us to our fellow beings even 
 of the days gone by ! * 
 
 Upon a dull, cold, melancholy evening, in the 
 end of autumn, one of the fishermen of the shore 
 near Scarphout gazed over the grey sea as it 
 lay before his eye, rolling in, with one dense 
 line of foaming waves pouring for ever over the 
 
102 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 other. The sky was black and heavy, covered 
 with clouds of a mottled leaden hue, growing 
 darker towards the north-west, and the gusty 
 whistling of the rising wind told of the coming 
 storm. The fisherman himself was a tall, gaunt 
 man, with hair of a grizzled black, strong 
 marked, but not unpleasant features, and many 
 a long furrow across his broad, high brow. 
 
 The spot on which he stood was a small sand- 
 hill on the httle bay formed by a projecting 
 ridge of Dunes, at the extremity of which stood 
 the old castle of Scarphout — even then in ruins, 
 and at the time of high tide, separated from the 
 land by the encroaching waves, but soon 
 destined to be swept away altogether, leaving 
 nothing but a crumbling tower here and there 
 rising above the waters. Moored in the most 
 sheltered part of the bay, before his eyes, were 
 his two boats ; and behind him, underneath the 
 sand-hills that ran out to the old castle, was the 
 cottage in which he and his family had dwelt for 
 ten years. 
 
 He stood and gazed ; and then turning to a 
 boy dressed in the same uncouth garments as 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 103 
 
 himself, he said, " No, Peterkin, no ! There 
 will be a storm — I will not go to-night. Go, 
 tell your father and the other men I will not go. 
 I expect my son home from Tournai, and I will 
 not go out on a stormy night when he is coming 
 back after a long absence." 
 
 The boy ran away along the shore to some 
 still lower cottages, which could just be seen at 
 the opposite point, about two miles off; and the 
 fisherman turned towards his own dwelling. 
 Four rooms were all that it contained ; and the 
 door which opened on the sands led into the 
 first of these : but the chamber was clean and 
 neat; everything within it showed care and ex- 
 treme attention; the brazen vessels above the 
 wide chimney, the pottery upon* the shelves, all 
 bore evidence of good housewifery ; and as the 
 fisherman of Scarphout entered his humble 
 abode, the warm blaze of the fire, and the light 
 of the resin candle welcomed him to as clean an 
 apartment as could be found in the palace of 
 princes. 
 
 He looked round it with a proud and satis- 
 fied smile; and the arms of his daughter, a 
 lovely girl of fourteen, were round his neck in 
 
104 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 a moment, while she exclaimed in a glad tone, 
 speaking to her mother who was busy in the 
 room beyond, " Oh, mother, he will not go out 
 to sea to-night !" 
 
 Her mother, who had once been very beauti- 
 ful — nay, was so still — came forth, and greeted 
 her husband with a calm, glad kiss ; and sitting 
 down, the father pulled off his heavy boots, and 
 warmed his strong hands over the cheerful 
 blaze. 
 
 The wind whistled louder and louder still, 
 the sea moaned as if tormented by the demon of 
 the storm, and few, but dashing drops of heavy 
 rain, came upon the blast, and rattled on the 
 casements of the cottage. 
 
 " It will be a fearful night !" said the fisher- 
 man, speaking to his daughter. " Emiline, give 
 me the book, and we will read the prayer for 
 those that wander in the tempest." 
 
 His daughter turned to one of the wooden 
 shelves; and from behind some very homely 
 articles of kitchen furniture, brought forth one 
 of the splendid books of the Romish church, 
 from which her father read a prayer aloud, while 
 mother and daughter knelt beside him. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. JOS 
 
 Higher still grew the storm as the night 
 came on ; more frequent and more fierce were 
 the howling gusts of wind ; and the waves of 
 the stirred-up ocean, cast in thunder upon the 
 shore, seemed to shake the lowly cottage as if 
 they would fain have swept it from the earth. 
 Busily did Dame Alice, the fisherman's wife, 
 trim the wood fire ; eagerly and carefully did 
 she prepare the supper for her husband and her 
 expected son ; and often did Emiline listen to 
 hear if, in the lulled intervals of the storm, she 
 could catch the sound of coming steps. 
 
 At length, when the rushing of the wind and 
 waves seemed at their highest, there came a 
 loud knocking at the door^ and the fisherman 
 started up to open it, exclaiming, " It is my 
 son !" He threw it wide ; but the moment he 
 had done so, he started back, exclaiming, " Who 
 are you ?" and pale as ashes, drenched with 
 rain, and haggard, as if with terror and fatigue, 
 staggered in a man as old as the fisherman him- 
 self, bearing in his arms what seemed the life- 
 less body of a young and lovely woman. 
 
 F 5 
 
106 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 The apparel of either stranger had, at one time, 
 cost far more than the worth of the fisherman's 
 cottage and all that it contained ; but now, that 
 apparel was rent and soiled, and upon that of 
 the man were evident traces of blood and strife. 
 Motioning eagerly to shut the door — as soon as 
 it was done, he set his fair burden on one of the 
 low settles, and besought for her the aid of the 
 two women whom he beheld. It was given im- 
 mediately ; and although an air of surprise, and 
 a look for a moment even fierce, had come over 
 the fisherman's countenance on the first intru- 
 sion of strangers into his cottage, that look had 
 now passed away ; and, taking the fair girl, who 
 lay senseless before him, in his strong arms, he 
 bore her into an inner chamber, and placed her 
 on his wife's own bed. Tlie women remained 
 with her; and closing the door, the fisherman 
 returned to his unexpected guest, demanding 
 abruptly, " Who is that ?" 
 
 The stranger crossed his question by another 
 — " Are you Walran, the fisherman of Scarp- 
 hout ?" he demanded, " and will you plight 
 your oath not to betray me ?" 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 107 
 
 " I am Walran," replied the fisherman, " and 
 I do plight my oath." 
 
 " Then that is the daughter of Charles, 
 Count of Flanders !" replied the stranger. " I 
 have saved her at the risk of my life from the 
 assassins of her father !" 
 
 " The assassins of her father !" cried the 
 fisherman. " Then is he dead ?" 
 
 " He was slain yesterday in the church — in the 
 very church itself, at Bruges ! Happily his son 
 was absent, and his daughter is saved, at least if 
 you will lend us that aid which a young man, 
 who is even now engaged in misleading our 
 pursuers, promised in your name." 
 
 " My son !" said the fisherman. " His pro- 
 mise shall bind his father as if it were my own. 
 But tell me, who are you ?" 
 
 " I am Baldwin, Lord of Wavrin," r^pHed the 
 stranger. " But we have no time for long con- 
 ferences, good fisherman. A party of assassins 
 are triumphant in Flanders. The count is 
 slain ; his son, a youth, yet unable to recover or 
 defend his own without aid : his daughter is 
 here, pursued by the murderers of her father ; 
 
108 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 she cannot be long concealed, and this night, this 
 very night, I must find some method to bear her 
 to the shores of France, so that I may place her 
 in safety, and, as a faithful friend of my dead 
 sovereign, obtain the means of snatching his 
 son's inheritance from the hands of his enemies, 
 ere their power be confirmed beyond remedy. 
 Will you venture to bear us out to sea in your 
 boat, and vi^in a reward such as a fisherman can 
 seldom gain ?" 
 
 " The storm is loud," said the fisherman ; 
 '• the wind is cold ; and ere you reach the coast 
 of France, that fair flower would be withered 
 never to revive again. You must leave her 
 here." 
 
 " But she will be discovered and slain by the 
 murderers of her father," repUed Baldwin. 
 " What, are you a man and a seaman, and fear 
 to dare the storm for such an object ?" 
 
 " I fear nothing," answered the fisherman, 
 calmly. " But here is my son ! Albert, God's 
 benison be upon you, my boy," he added, as a 
 young man entered the cottage, with the dark 
 curls of his jetty hair dripping with the night 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 109 
 
 rain. " Welcome back ! but you come in an 
 hour of trouble. Cast the great bar across the 
 door, and let no one enter, while I show this 
 stranger a refuge he knows not." 
 
 " No one shall enter living," said the young 
 man, after returning his father's first embrace : 
 and the fisherman taking one of the resin lights 
 from the table, passed through the room where 
 the fair unhappy Marguerite of Flanders lay, 
 recovering, from the swoon into which she had 
 fallen, to a recollection of all that was painful 
 in existence. 
 
 " Should they attempt to force the door," 
 whispered the fisherman to his wife, " bring 
 her quick after me, and bid Albert and Emi- 
 line follow." And striding on with the Lord 
 of Wavrin into the room beyond, he gave his 
 guest the light, while he advanced towards the 
 wall which ended the building on that side. 
 It had formed part of some old tenement, most 
 probably a monastery, which had long ago oc- 
 cupied the spot, when a little town, now no 
 longer existing, had been gathered together at 
 the neck of the promontory on which the fort of 
 Scarphout stood. 
 
110 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 This one wall was all that remained of the 
 former habitations ; and against it the cottage 
 was built ; though the huge stones of which it 
 was composed were but little in harmony with 
 the rest of the low building. To it, however, 
 the fisherman advanced, and placing his shoulder 
 against one of the enormous stones, to the asto- 
 nishment of the stranger it moved round upon a 
 pivot in the wall, showing the top of a small 
 staircase, leading down apparently into the 
 ground. A few words sufficed to tell that that 
 staircase led, by a passage under the narrow 
 neck of sand-hills, to the old castle beyond ; and 
 that in that old castle was still one room habita- 
 ble, though unknown to any but the fisherman 
 himself. 
 
 " Here, then, let the lady stay," he said, 
 "guarded, fed, and tended by my wife and 
 children ; and for you and me, let us put to sea. 
 I will bring you safe to Boulogne, if I sleep not 
 with you beneath the waves ; and there, from 
 the King of France, you may gain aid to re- 
 establish rightful rule within the laud." 
 
 " To Boulogne," said the stranger, " to Bou- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. Ill 
 
 logne ? Nay, let us pause at Bergues or Calais, 
 for I am not loved in Boulogne. I once," he 
 added, boldly, seeing some astonishment in the 
 fisherman's countenance, " I once wronged the 
 former Count of Boulogne — I scruple not to say 
 it — I did him wrong ; and though he has been 
 dead for years, yet his people love me not, and 
 I have had warning to avoid their dwellings." 
 
 " And do you think the love or hate of ordi- 
 nary people can outlive long years ?" demanded 
 the fisherman ; " but, nevertheless, let us to 
 Boulogne ; for there is even now the King of 
 France : so said a traveller who landed here the 
 other day. And the king, who is come, they 
 say, to judge upon the spot who shall inherit 
 the long vacant county of Boulogne, will give 
 you protection against your enemies, and aid to 
 restore your sovereign's son to his rightful in- 
 heritance." 
 
 The Lord of Wavrin mused for a moment, 
 but consented, and all was speedily arranged. 
 The fair Marguerite of Flanders, roused and 
 cheered by the care of the fisherman's family, 
 gladly took advantage of the refuge offered her. 
 
112 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 and found no terrors in the long damp vaults or 
 ponderous stone door that hid her from the 
 world ; and feeling that she herself was now in 
 safety, she scarcely looked roand the apartment 
 to which she was led, but gave herself up to the 
 thoughts of her father's bloody death, her bro- 
 ther's situation of peril, and all the dangers that 
 lay before the faithful friend who, with a father's 
 tenderness, had guided her safely from the 
 house of murder and desolation. 
 
 He, on his part, saw the heavy stone door roll 
 slowly to after the princess, and ascertaining 
 that an iron bolt within gave her the means of 
 securing her retreat, at least in a degree, he 
 left her, with a mind comparatively tranquillized 
 in regard to her, and follow^ed the fisherman 
 towards the beach. 
 
 There the boat was found already prepared, 
 with its prow^ towards the surf, and one or two 
 of the fisherman's hardy companions ready to 
 share his danger. 
 
 The Lord of Wavrin looked vip to the dark and 
 starless sky ; he felt the rude wind push roughly 
 against his broad chest ; he heard the billows fall 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 113 
 
 in thunder upon the sandy shore ! But he thought 
 of his murdered sovereign, and of that sovereign's 
 helpless orphans, and springing into the frail 
 bark, he bade the men push off, though he felt that 
 there was many a chance those words might be 
 the signals of his death. Watching till the wave 
 had broken, the three strong seamen pushed the 
 boat through the yielding sand ; the next instant 
 she floated ; they leaped in, and struggling for a 
 moment with the coming wave, the bark bounded 
 out into the sea, and was lost to the sight of 
 those that watched her from the shore. 
 
114 
 
 THE FISHERMAN OF SCARPHOUT. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 There were tears in the blue eye of the morn- 
 ing, but they were like the tears of a spoiled 
 beauty when her momentary anger has gained 
 all she wishes, and the passionate drops begin to 
 be chequered by smiles not less wayward. Gra- 
 dually, however, the smiles predominated ; the 
 clouds grew less frequent and less heavy, the 
 sun shone out with shorter intervals, and though 
 the wind and the sea still sobbed and heaved 
 with the past storm, the sky was momently be- 
 coming more and more serene. 
 
 Such was the aspect of the coming day, when 
 the unhappy Marguerite of Flanders again 
 opened her eyes, after having for a time forgotten 
 her sorrow in but too brief repose. For a moment 
 she doubted whether the past were not all a 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 115 
 
 dream; but the aspect of the chamber in which 
 she now found herself, very different from that 
 which she had inhabited in her father's palace, 
 soon recalled the sad reality. And yet, as she 
 gazed round the room, there was nothing rude or 
 coarse in its appearance. Rich tapestry was still 
 upon the walls; the dressoir was still covered with 
 fine linen and purple, and many a silver vessel 
 — laver, and ewer, and cup, stood ready for her 
 toilet The small grated windows, with the 
 enormous walls in which they were set, the 
 faded colours of the velvet hangings of the bed 
 in w^hich she had been sleeping, the vaulted 
 roof, showing no carved and gilded oak, but the 
 cold, bare stone, told that she was in the cham- 
 ber of a lone and ruined fortress; but one that 
 less than a century before had contained persons 
 in whose veins flowed the same blood that w an- 
 dered through her own. 
 
 Rising, she gazed out of the window, w^hich 
 looked upon the w^ide and rushing sea, and she 
 thought of the good old Lord of Wavrin and 
 his dangerous voyage ; and, like the figures in a 
 dehrious dream, the forms of the old fisherman, 
 and his beautiful daughter and fair wife, and 
 
116 THE DESULTORY MAX. 
 
 handsome, dark-eyed son, came back upon her 
 memory. 
 
 A slight knock at the door roused her ; but her 
 whole nerves had been so much shaken with ter* 
 ror that she hardly dared to bid the stranger 
 enter. At length, however, she summoned 
 courage to do so, and the fair and smihng face 
 of Emiline, the fisherman's daughter, appeared 
 behind the opening door. 
 
 Torn from the fond, accustomed things of 
 early days, left alone and desolate in a wild 
 and unattractive spot, surrounded by dangers, 
 and for the first time exposed to adversity, the 
 heart of Marguerite of Flanders was but too well 
 disposed to cling to whatever presented itself for 
 affection. Emiline she found kind and gentle, but 
 though younger, of a firmer mood than herself, 
 having been brought up in a severer school; 
 and to her Marguerite soon learned to chng. 
 
 But there was another companion whom 
 fate cast in her way, from whom she could 
 not withhold the same natural attachment, 
 though but too likely to prove dangerous 
 to her peace. Morning and evening, every 
 day, Albert, the fisherman's son, who had been 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 117 
 
 left behind by his father to afford that protection 
 which none but a man could give, visited her 
 retreat in the company of his sister ; and Mar- 
 guerite was soon taught to long for those visits 
 as the brightest hours of her weary concealment. 
 But in the meantime the fisherman returned 
 no more. Day passed after day ; morning broke 
 and evening fell, and the boat which had left the 
 shore of Scarphout on that eventful evening, did 
 not appear again. The eye of the fisherman's wife 
 strained over the waters, and when at eventide 
 the barks of the other inhabitants of the coast 
 were seen approaching the shore, his children ran 
 down to inquire for their parent — but in vain. 
 
 About the same time, too, fragments of 
 wrecks — masts, sails, and planks — were cast 
 upon the sands, and dark and sad grew the 
 brows of the once happy family at the point 
 of Scarphout. The two other men whom he 
 had chosen to accompany him were unmar- 
 ried, but their relations at length gave up the 
 last hope, and the priest of Notre Dame de 
 Blankenbergh was besought to say masses for 
 the souls of the departed. The good old man 
 
118 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 wept as he promised to comply, for though he 
 had seen courts, and lived in the household of 
 a noble prince, he loved his simple flock, and 
 had ever been much attached to the worthy 
 man whose boat was missing. 
 
 Marguerite of Flanders, with a fate but too in- 
 timately interwoven with that of the unfortunate 
 family at Scarphout, had been made acquainted 
 with the hopes and fears of every day, had 
 mingled her tears with Emiline, and had even 
 clasped the hand of Albert, while she soothed 
 him with sympathetic sorrow for his father's loss. 
 " Mine is an unhappy fate," she said, " to bring 
 sorrow and danger even here, while seeking to 
 fly from it myself." 
 
 " Grieve not, lady, in that respect," replied 
 Albert, raising her hand to his lips ; " we have 
 but done our duty towards you, and our hearts 
 are not such as to regret that we have done so, 
 even though we lose a father by it. Neither 
 fear for your own fate. The times must change 
 for better ones. In the meanwhile you are in 
 safety here, and should need be, I will defend 
 you with the last drop of my blood." 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 119 
 
 The morning that followed, however, wore a 
 different aspect. Scarcely were matins over, 
 when the good old priest himself visited the 
 cottage of the fisherman, and proceeded to those 
 of his companions, spreading joy and hope 
 wherever he came. What, it may be asked, 
 was the source of such joy ? It was but a 
 vision ! The old man had dreamt, he said, that 
 he had seen the fisherman of Scarphout safe and 
 well, with a net in his hand, in which were an 
 innumerable multitude of fishes. And this 
 simple dream was, in that age, sufficient to dry 
 the eyes of mourning, and bring back hope to 
 bosoms that had been desolate. 
 
 Albert flew to communicate the tale to Mar- 
 guerite of Flanders, and there was spoken be- 
 tween them many a word of joy — ^joy that so often 
 entwines its arms with tenderness. He now came 
 oftener than ever, for the old priest by some 
 means had learned that he took an interest in all 
 the changing fortunes of the state of Flanders, and 
 daily the good man brought him tidings, which 
 sometimes he felt it a duty, sometimes a plea- 
 sure, to tell to the lonely dweller in the ruined 
 castle. 
 
1*20 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 He found, too, that his presence cheered 
 her, and that his conversation won her from her 
 grief. She began to cling even more to him 
 than to his sister; for he knew more of the 
 world, and men, and coutrts, than Emiline, and 
 he thought it but kind to afford her every solace 
 and pleasure he could give. Each day his visits 
 became more fi-equent, and continued longer. 
 
 Sometimes he would liberate her, after a 
 sort, from her voluntary prison, by taking her, 
 with Emiline, in his boat upon the moonlight 
 sea, or even by leading her along, under the 
 eye of Heaven's queen, upon the smooth sands, 
 when the waves of a calm night rippled up to 
 their feet. At other times he would sit upon 
 the stones of the old battlements, rent and 
 rifted by the warfare of ages, and would while 
 her thoughts away from herself by tales of other 
 days, when those battlements had withstood the 
 assault of hosts, and those halls had been the 
 resort of the fair and brave, now dust. 
 
 Then, again, he would give her tidings which he 
 had gained while dwelling at Namur or at Tour- 
 nai ; reciting the gallant deeds of the servants of the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 121 
 
 Cross in distant Palestine, or telling of the 
 horrors of captivity in Paynimrie; and theii, 
 too, he would sing, as they sat above the waters, 
 with a voice, and a skill, and a taste, which 
 Marguerite fancied all unequalled in the world. 
 Day by day, and hour by hour, the fair 
 inexperienced princess of Flanders felt that she 
 was losing her young heart to the youth of low 
 degree ; and yet what could she do to stay the 
 fugitive, or call him back to her own bosom 
 from his hopeless flight ? It was not alone that 
 Albert was, in her eyes at least, the most hand- 
 some man she had ever beheld, it was not alone 
 that he was gentle, kind, and tender, but it was 
 that on him alone she was cast for aid, protection, 
 amusement, information, hope ; that her fate 
 hung upon his word, and that while he seemed 
 to feel and triumph in the task, yet it was with 
 a deep, earnest, anxious solicitude for her peace 
 and for her security. 
 
 And did she think, that with all these feel- 
 ings in her bosom, he had dared to love her 
 in return — to love her, the princess of that 
 land in which he was alone the son of a poor 
 
 VOL. in. G 
 
122 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 fisherman? She knew he had — she saw it 
 in his eyes, she heard it in every tone, she 
 felt it in the tender touch of the strong 
 hand that aided her in her stolen wanderings. 
 And thus it went on from day to day, till words 
 were spoken that no after-thought could ever 
 recall, and Marguerite owned, that if Heaven 
 willed that her father's lands should never return 
 to her father's house, she could, with a happy 
 heart, see state and dignity pass away from her, 
 and wed the son of the Fisherman of Scarp- 
 hout. 
 
 But still the fisherman himself returned not. 
 Days had grown into weeks, and weeks had 
 become months, yet no tiding of him or his 
 companions had reached the shore, and men 
 began to fancy that the vision of the old priest 
 might be no more than an ordinary dream. 
 Not so, however, the family of the fisherman 
 himself. They seemed to hold the judgment of 
 the good man infallible, and every day he visited 
 their cottage, bringing them tidings of all the 
 events which took place in the struggle that now 
 convulsed the land. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 123 
 
 By this time, the King of France had roused 
 himself to chastise the rebels of Flanders, and 
 to reinstate the young count in his dominions. 
 He had summoned his vassals to his standard, 
 and creating two experienced leaders marshals 
 of his host, had entered the disturbed territory 
 with lance in the rest. Little armed opposition 
 had been made to his progress, though two or 
 three detached parties from his army had been 
 cut off and slaughtered. But this only exas- 
 perated the monarch still more, and he had 
 been heard to vow that nothing but the death 
 of every one of the conspirators would satisfy 
 him for the blood of Charles the Good, and of 
 the faithful friends who had fallen with him. 
 
 Such was the tale told by the good priest to 
 Albert, the fisherman's son, one day towards the 
 end of the year, and by him repeated to Mar- 
 guerite of Flanders, who heard it with very 
 mingled feeHngs ; for if a momentary joy crossed 
 her heart to think that the murderers of her 
 father would meet their just reward, and her 
 brother would recover the coronet of Flanders, 
 the fear, the certainty that she herself would be 
 
 G 2 
 
124 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 torn from him she loved, overclouded the brief 
 sunshine, and left her mind all dark. 
 
 The next day, however, new tidings reached 
 Albert, and filled his heart with consternation and 
 surprise. Burchard, the chief murderer of the 
 dead count, had, it was said, dispatched a messen- 
 ger to the King of France, to bid him either hold 
 off from Bruges, or send him a free pardon for 
 himself and all his companions, lest another vic- 
 tim should be added to those already gone from 
 the family of the dead count. " I have in my 
 power," he had added, " the only daughter of 
 Charles, called by you the Good. I know her 
 retreat — I hold her as it were in a chain, and I 
 shall keep her as a hostage, whose blood shall 
 flow if a hard measure be dealt to me." 
 
 Albert fell into deep thought. Could it be 
 true, he asked himself, that Burchard had really 
 discovered Marguerite of Flanders? If so, it 
 were time, he thought, to fulfil one part of his 
 father's directions concerning her, at any cost to 
 himself; and as those directions had been, in 
 case danger menaced her in her retreat, to carry 
 her to sea, and, landing on the coast of France, 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 125 
 
 to place her in the hands of the king or his repre- 
 sentative, it may easily be conceived that the ex- 
 ecution thereof would be not a little painful to 
 one for whom each hour of her society was joy. 
 
 The more he pondered, however, the more he 
 felt that it must be done ; but it happened that for 
 the last three days, four or five strange sail had 
 been seen idly beating about not far from the coast, 
 and Albert determined, in the first instance, to 
 ascertain their purpose. With some young men 
 from the neighbouring cottages, he put to sea, 
 and finding an easy excuse to approach one of 
 the large vessels which he had beheld, he asked, 
 as if accidentally, to whom they belonged, when, 
 with consternation and anxiety, he heard that 
 they were the ships of " Burchard, Prevot of 
 St. Donatien." 
 
 Returning at once to the shore, he dismissed his 
 companions and sought his father's cottage ; but 
 there he found that tidings had come during his 
 absence that the King of France had advanced 
 upon Bruges, and that Burchard had fled with 
 his troops ; but the same report added, that the 
 rebels, hotly pursued by the chivalry of France, 
 
126 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 had directed their flight towards the sea- shore. 
 Time pressed — the moment of danger was ap- 
 proaching; but still great peril appeared in 
 every course of action which could be adopted. 
 The escape by sea was evidently cut off; the 
 retreat of Marguerite of Flanders was apparently 
 discovered ; and if a flight by land were at- 
 tempted, it seemed only likely to lead into the 
 power of the enemy. 
 
 With her, then, he determined to consult, and 
 passing through the vaults, he was soon by the 
 side of the fair unfortunate girl, whose fate de- 
 pended upon the decision of the next few mi- 
 nutes. He told her all ; but to her as well as to 
 himself, to fly seemed more hazardous than to 
 remain, The high tide was coming up; in less 
 than half an hour the castle would be cut off^ 
 from the land; the King of France was hard 
 upon the track of the enemy, and various events 
 might tend to favour her there, 
 
 " I would rathep die," said the princess, 
 " than fall living into their hands ; and I can die 
 here as well as anywhere else, dear Albert." 
 
 " They shall pass over my dead body ere 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 127 
 
 they reach you," answered he. " Many a thing 
 has been done Marguerite, by a single arm; 
 and if I can defend you till the king arrives, you 
 are safe/"* 
 
 " But arms !" she said. " You have no 
 arms." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, I have," he answered. " No one 
 knows the secrets of this old castle but my 
 father and myself; and there are arms here too 
 for those who need them. Wait but a moment, 
 and I will return." 
 
 His absence was as brief as might be; but 
 when he came back, Marguerite saw him armed 
 with shield and casque, sword and battle-axe ; 
 but without either haubert or coat of mail, 
 which, though they might have guarded him 
 from wounds, would have deprived him of a 
 part of that agility which could alone enable one 
 to contend with many. 
 
 " If I could but send Emiline," he said, as he 
 came up, " to call some of our brave boatmen 
 from the cottages to our assistance here, we 
 might set an army at defiance for an hour or 
 two." 
 
J 28 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Marguerite only answered, by pointing with 
 her hand to a spot on the distant sands, where 
 a small body of horsemen, perhaps not a hun- 
 dred, were seen galloping at full speed towards 
 Scarphout, Albert saw that it was too late to 
 call further aid ; and now only turned to dis- 
 cover where he could best make his defence in 
 case of need. 
 
 There was a large massy wall, which, ere 
 the sea had encroached upon the building, 
 ran completely round the castle, but which 
 now only flanked one side of the ruins, run- 
 ning out like a jetty into the waters which 
 had swallowed up the rest. It was raised about 
 twenty feet above the ground on one side, and 
 perhaps twenty-five above the sea on the other ; 
 and at the top, between the parapets, was a 
 passage which would hardly contain two men 
 abreast. Upon this wall, about half-way be- 
 tween the keep and the sea, was a small pro- 
 jecting turret, and there Albert saw that Mar- 
 guerite might find shelter, while, as long as he 
 lived, he could defend the passage against any 
 force coming from the side of the land. He told 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 129 
 
 her his plans ; and for her only answer, she fell 
 upon his neck and wept. But he wiped her 
 tears away with his fond lips, and spoke words 
 of hope and comfort. 
 
 " See !" he said, " the sea is already covering 
 the chausste between us and the land, and if 
 they do not possess the secret of the vaults, 
 they cannot reach us till the tide falls." 
 
 When he turned his eyes to the shore, the body 
 of horsemen were within a mile of the castle ; but 
 then, with joy inexpressible, he beheld upon the 
 edge of the sand-hills, scarcely two miles behind 
 them, a larger force hurrying on as if in pur- 
 suit with banner and pennon, and standard dis- 
 played, and lance beyond lance bristling up 
 against the sky. 
 
 " The King of France ; the King of France !" 
 he cried ; but still the foremost body galloped 
 on. They reached the shore, drew up their 
 horses when they saw that the tide was in ; turned 
 suddenly towards the cottage ; and the next 
 moment Albert could see his mother and Emi- 
 line fly from their dwelling across the sands. 
 The men at arms had other matters in view 
 
 G 5 
 
130 THE DESULTORY MAN". 
 
 than to pursue them ; but Albert now felt that 
 they were aware of the secret entrance, and that 
 Marguerite's only hope was in his own valour, 
 
 " To the turret, my beloved !" he cried, " to 
 the turret !" And half-bearing, half-leading her 
 along, he placed her under its shelter, and took 
 his station in the pass. A new soul seemed to 
 animate him, new light shone forth from his 
 eye : and, in words which might have suited the 
 noblest of the land, he exhorted her to keep her 
 firmness in the moment of danger, to watch 
 around, and give him notice of all she saw from 
 the loop-holes of the turret. 
 
 Then came a moment of awful suspense, while 
 in silence and in doubt they waited the result ; but 
 still the host of France might be seen drawing 
 nearer and more near ; and the standard of the 
 king could be distinguished floating on the wind 
 amidst a thousand other banners of various feudal 
 lords. Hope grew high in Albert's breast, and he 
 trusted that ere Burchard could find and force 
 the entrance, the avenger would be upon him. 
 He hoped in vain, however, for the murderer 
 was himself well acquainted with the spot, and 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 131 
 
 had only paused to secure the door of the vaults, 
 so that his pursuers could not follow by the 
 same means he himself employed. In another 
 minute loud voices were heard echoing through 
 the ruin, and Albert and Marguerite concealing 
 themselves as best they could, beheld the fierce 
 and bloodthirsty Prevot with his companions 
 seeking them through the castle. 
 
 Still onward bore the banners of France ; and 
 ere Burchard had discovered their concealment, 
 the shore at half a bow-shot distance was lined 
 with chivalry. So near were they, that, uninter- 
 rupted by the soft murmur of the waves, could 
 be heard the voice of a herald calhng upon the 
 rebels to surrender, and promising pardon to all 
 but the ten principal conspirators. A loud 
 shout of defiance was the only reply ; for at that 
 very moment the eye of Burchard lighted on the 
 form of Albert as he crouched under the wall, 
 and the men at arms poured on along the nar- 
 row passage. 
 
 Concealment could now avail nothing; and 
 starting up with his battle-axe in his hand, 
 he planted himself between the rebels and the 
 
132 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 princess. The French on the shore could 
 now behold him also, as he stood with half 
 his figure above the parapet ; and instantly, 
 seeming to divine his situation, some cross-bow- 
 men were brought forward, and poured their 
 quarrels on the men of the Prevot as they 
 rushed forward to attack him. Two or three 
 were struck down ; but the others hurried on, 
 and the safety of Albert himself required the 
 cross-bowmen to cease, when hand to hand he 
 was compelled to oppose the passage of the 
 enemy. Each blow of his battle-axe could still 
 be beheld from the land ; and as one after an- 
 other of his foes went down before that strong 
 and ready arm, loud and gratulating shouts 
 rang from his friends upon the shore. 
 
 Still others pressed on, catching a view of Mar- 
 guerite herself, as, in uncontrollable anxiety for 
 him she loved, she gazed forth from the turret- 
 door, and a hundred eager eyes were bent upon 
 her, certain that if she could be taken, a promise 
 of pardon, or a death of vengeance at least, 
 would be obtained ; but only one could approach 
 at a time, and Albert was forming for himself a 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 133 
 
 rampart of dead and dpng. At that moment, 
 however, Burchard, who stood behind, pointed 
 to the castle-court below, where a number of 
 old planks and beams lay rotting in the sun. 
 
 A dozen of his men sprang down, caught up 
 the materials which he showed them, planted 
 them against the wall beyond the turret, and 
 soon raised up a sort of tottering scaffold behind 
 the place where Marguerite's gallant defender 
 stood. He himself, eager in the strife before 
 him, saw not what had happened ; but she had 
 marked the fatal advantage the enemy had 
 gained, and, gliding like a ghost from out the 
 turret, she approached close to his side, ex- 
 claiming, " They are coming ! — they are coming 
 from the other side ! — and we are lost !" 
 
 Albert turned his head, and comprehended in 
 a moment. But one hope was left. Dashing 
 to the earth the next opponent who was climb- 
 ing over the dead bodies between them, he 
 struck a second blow at the one beyond, which 
 made him recoil upon his fellows. Then cast- 
 ing his battle-axe and shield away, he caught 
 the light form of Marguerite in his arms, sprang 
 
134 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 upon the parapet, and exclaiming, " Now God 
 befriend us !" plunged at once into the deep sea, 
 while, at the very same moment, the heads of the 
 fresh assailants appeared upon the wall beyond. 
 
 A cry of terror and amazement rang from 
 the shore ; and the King of France himself, 
 with two old knights beside him, rode on till 
 the waters washed their horses' feet. Albert 
 and Marguerite were lost to sight in a moment ; 
 but the next instant they appeared again ; and, 
 long accustomed to sport with the same waves 
 that now curled gently round him as an old 
 loved friend, bearing the head of Marguerite 
 lifted on his left arm, with his right he struck 
 boldly towards the shore. 
 
 On — on he bore her ! and like a lamb in the 
 bosom of the shepherd, she lay without a strug- 
 gle, conquering strong terror by stronger resolu- 
 tion. On — on he bore her ! Glad shouts hailed 
 him as he neared the shore ; and with love and 
 valour lending strength, he came nearer and more 
 near. At length his feet touched the ground, 
 and throwing both arms round her, he bore her 
 safe, and rescued, till he trod the soft, dry sand. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 135 
 
 Then kneeling before the monarch, he set his 
 fair burden softly on the ground — but still he 
 held her hand. 
 
 " Hold ! nobles — hold !" cried the king of 
 France, springing from his horse. " Before 
 any one greets him, I will give him the greet* 
 ing he well has won. Advance the standard 
 over us ! Albert of Boulogne, in the name 
 of God, St. Michael, and St. George, I dub 
 thee knight ! Be ever, as to-day, gallant, brave, 
 and true. This is the recompense we give. 
 Fair lady of Flanders, we think you owe him a 
 recompense likewise; and we believe that, ac- 
 cording to our wise coast laws, that which a 
 fisherman brings up from the sea is his own by 
 right. Is it not so, my good Lord of Boulogne ?" 
 and he turned to a tall old man beside him. 
 " You, of all men, should know best ; as for ten 
 years you have enacted the Fisherman of 
 Scai'phouV 
 
 The nobles laughed loud, and \vith tears of 
 joy the old Count of Boulogne, for it was no 
 other, embraced his gallant son, while at the 
 same time the Lord of Wavrin advanced, and 
 
136 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 pressed Marguerite's hand in that of her deli- 
 verer, saying, " Her father, sire, by will, as you 
 will find, gave the disposal of her hand to me, 
 and I am but doing my duty to him in bestow- 
 ing it on one who merits it so well. At the 
 same time it is a comfort to my heart to offer 
 my noble lord, the Count of Boulogne, some 
 atonement for having done him wrong in years 
 long gone, and for having, even by mistake, 
 brought on him your displeasure and a ten years' 
 exile. He has forgiven me, but I have not for^ 
 given myself; and as an offering of repentance, 
 all my own lands and territories, at my death, I 
 give, in addition, to the dowry of Marguerite of 
 Flanders." 
 
 We will not pause upon the death of Burchard, 
 Prevot of St. Donatien. It was, as he merited, 
 upon a scaffold. Explanations, too, are tedious, 
 and the old history tells no more than we have 
 here told, leaving the imagination of its readers 
 to fill up all minor particulars in the life of the 
 Fisherman of Scarphout. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 137 
 
 These tales were followed by a moral essay 
 on the Use of Time, which none of the party 
 would acknowledge, though it was strongly 
 suspected to be the production of a young lady, 
 in the assumed character of an old man. 
 
138 
 
 THE USE OF TIME. 
 
 Time, considered in the same light as the other 
 possessions of man, is certainly of them all the 
 most valuable, as so very small portion is allotted 
 to each individual. Yet every means are employ- 
 ed by the great bulk of mankind to waste that of 
 which our quantity is so diminutive, every art is 
 used to dissipate what will naturally fly from us, 
 every idea is bent on driving away that which 
 we can never recal. 
 
 Our first thought, on awaking from sleep is, 
 How shall I spend the day ? Surely it ought 
 rather to be, How shall I best employ those mo- 
 ments of which Heaven has given me so few ? 
 which of the various modes of filling my time 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 139 
 
 will be most consonant to reason and virtue—will 
 most redound to mine own honour — will be 
 most advantageous to society ? 
 
 There is no art which would be more bene- 
 ficial to the world, or which is less practised, 
 than the economy of moments. A thousand 
 spaces present themselves in the life of every 
 man, which are left unoccupied, even amidst 
 the bustle of pleasure, or the anxiety of busi- 
 ness — too small to be employed in serious study, 
 too sudden and evanescent to offer opportunity 
 for any prolonged enjoyment. But these vacui- 
 ties might almost always be used to produce either 
 some harmless gratification to ourselves, or some 
 benefit to others ; some improvement of our cor- 
 poreal or intellectual faculties, or some scheme 
 for giving satisfaction, or acquiring happiness. 
 Man need never be idle, even for an instant. 
 If the accident of the moment deprive him of 
 books, the page of nature will most frequently 
 be before him. Should this also be excluded 
 from his view, let him turn his consideration to 
 the tablet of his own mind ; let him correct its 
 errors, let him engrave more deeply the lines of 
 
140 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 right ; let him strengthen the powers of reason, 
 by examining and arranging his own thoughts ; 
 let him think, but not dream ; and he will find 
 an inexhaustible fund of employment and de- 
 light — a fund which is always replete with im- 
 provement, and which is constantly accessible 
 to his research. 
 
 Moments are the most precious treasures we 
 possess; and by them most frequently is the 
 fate of man decided. The ultimate effects of 
 the impulse or accident of an instant will fre- 
 quently give a colouring to the whole picture of 
 our future life ; either shadow it with sorrow or 
 brighten it with prosperity. Moments, there- 
 fore, ought never to be neglected: they ought 
 never to be wasted in idleness, nor remain un- 
 guarded by vigilance ; for in their passing, they 
 hurry on our fate ; and on their occupation and 
 event our happiness here and hereafter depends. 
 
 Procrastination is another of the most idle 
 ways of wasting time : — more destructive to 
 happiness, more baneful to society, more hostile 
 to virtue and reason, than almost any other cus- 
 tom short of actual vice. It weakens the mind, 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 141 
 
 it cheats the understanding, and induces a state 
 of intellectual imbecility, always increasing and 
 never to be overcome. It is not alone that we 
 substitute resolutions for actions, and spend in 
 determinations those moments which ought to 
 be employed in doing service to ourselves or 
 benefiting society; but the mental cowardice 
 grows upon us, and we lose the power even of 
 resolving, where action is necessary, and where 
 doubt is still more dangerous than error ; per- 
 plexing our mind with distressing hesitation, as 
 opposite to necessary caution as real prudence 
 is to headlong rashness and blind timidity. Pro- 
 crastination has been called " the thief of time." 
 It is worse ! It is the murderer of man's best 
 friend. 
 
 Was all our time filled with the obvious 
 duties which present themselves to our view — 
 engaged in the harmless pleasures that at eyery 
 step lie in our path, or employed in well-directed 
 observation and moral improvement — were those 
 vacant moments, which men feel so burthen- 
 some, snatched eagerly for the acquirement of 
 knowledge, or the reciprocation of benefits — 
 
142 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 the advantage to mankind would be, not alone 
 the increased enjoyment of existence, but also, 
 escape from temptation to evil, and security in 
 the path of right. 
 
 Notwithstanding these observations, every 
 man will find that he cannot always compel his 
 mind to any particular object; and that, when 
 he wishes to employ profitably a vacancy in his 
 time, he must allow his thoughts to follow in a 
 degree their former course ; or at least, guide 
 them into a new channel by some easy means of 
 communication. 
 
 I have often myself experienced this restive- 
 ness of imagination ; and whether it be from the 
 weakness of age, or a natural drowsiness of con- 
 stitution, I know not; but, whenever I endea- 
 vour to force my ideas towards subjects unassi- 
 milating with previous impressions, especially 
 when at all under the influence of bodily fatigue, 
 my mind seeks to escape from the burdensome 
 employment I would impose on it, by taking re- 
 fuge in the arms of slumber. 
 
 I had one day striven hard to fix my thoughts 
 upon subjects very nearly connected with the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 143 
 
 foregoing observations, although, at the mo- 
 ment, I was fatigued and exhausted with ex- 
 ercises and occupations unknown and dissi- 
 milar to my secluded habits ; and as I endea- 
 voured to arrange my ideas in a more distinct 
 form, gradually they lost their course, be- 
 came more and more confused, and I dropped 
 asleep. 
 
 If it be natural for the weary meditator to 
 sleep, it is still more natural for the poet or 
 essayist to dream ; and, indeed, I have a custom 
 of carrying on, during the hours of repose, that 
 train of thought, which has occupied me while 
 awake ; dressed indeed in a more fanciful garb, 
 and marshalled with all the extravagance of un- 
 controlled imagination. 
 
 On the present occasion, no sooner had I 
 closed my eyes, than, as usual, the ideas which I 
 had impressed on my mind again appeared, but 
 in somewhat of a different form. The whole 
 objects in the room, however, were unchanged, 
 even in the visions of my sleep. I still reclined 
 in my easy chair. My table, littered with 
 papers, was before me — the picture of my great 
 
144 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 grandfather stared me in the face from the other 
 side of the room— tny wig hung in its usual 
 recess by the fire-place — my snulF-box remained 
 half open on the table; and my red morocco 
 slippers rested on their own peculiar stool, undis- 
 turbed by intruding feet. 
 
 In a few minutes, as I fixed my eyes upon 
 the picture of my great grandfather, the reve- 
 rend effigy began to move; the next instant 
 the figure descended from the back-ground, and 
 bowing with all the formal grace of one thou- 
 sand seven hundred and seven, advanced to- 
 ward the table. I returned the salutation of 
 my revered ancestor, and begged him to be 
 seated — I could do no less for one who had 
 made such advances — and then, in all that ab- 
 surd caricature of real life, which dreams occa- 
 sionally display, we began to pour forth an over- 
 whelming flood of compliments upon each other, 
 in which, however, the copiousness of my great 
 grandfather had considerably the advantage. 
 Indeed, he seemed resolved to indemnify him- 
 self in that one night for the ages of silence 
 he had passed within his frame. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 145 
 
 At length, after an oration too long to be re- 
 peated, and which, in truth, I scarcely under- 
 stood, he informed me, that knowing my desire 
 to see all the moments of my passed life, he had 
 come out of the canvass on purpose to gratify 
 me ; and that he would immediately call them 
 to my sight, exactly as they had really been, in 
 distinct classes, and in regular routine. 
 
 As he concluded, he rapped the snuffbox, 
 with which he was represented in the portrait, 
 and in a moment, the room was filled with little 
 winged boys, resembling our pictures of cheru- 
 bim. " These," said my ancestor, " are the 
 first twenty years of thy life. You may observe, 
 that most of them are blind, for men, like kit- 
 tens, do not open their eyes until they have 
 been some time in the world — those that ap- 
 pear all over prickles, and who flutter about 
 with such vehemence, are the moments wasted 
 in love — those with sleepy air, swarthy com.- 
 plexion, and dusty wings, have passed you while 
 poring over old authors and musty volumes ; 
 and those that fly about casting somersets in the 
 air, like tumbler pigeons, are the instants spent 
 
 VOL. III. H 
 
146 THE DESULTORY MAN, 
 
 in balls and assemblies in the giddy days of 
 youth." 
 
 " But why," demanded I, " do so many that 
 I see carry a scull, more especially those that 
 bear a smile upon their lips, as if they mocked 
 the memento in their hands ?" 
 
 " All those," replied he, " are moments wast- 
 ed ; some in folly, some in actual vice, and 
 some passed by, unfilled by action, or unem- 
 ployed by thought; but all alike, the winged 
 hasteners of mortality." 
 
 "■' But are not all the others the same ?' de- 
 manded I, " even those who appear so calm and 
 placid ; those few, those very few, who neither 
 laugh nor frown, but whose looks are full of ex- 
 pression, and whose unclosed eyes seem to beam 
 with approbation — surely all moments tend 
 alike towards the tomb ?" 
 
 " Those," replied he, " are the instants given 
 to the doing of good deeds and to the pursuit 
 of virtue; and they lead us even beyond the 
 tomb; through the portal of death, open the 
 gates of life, and smooth our passage to eter- 
 nity." 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 147 
 
 He now called to view the next twenty years 
 of my life ; and directly another winged crowd 
 appeared, some of whom bore ladders, many of 
 the steps whereof were broken or irregular; 
 and these, I was told, were the moments given 
 to the delusions of pride and the dreams of 
 ambition. Others were little gloomy-looking 
 imps, which, however, often when they would 
 seem to frown the most, would suddenly as- 
 sume a smile, so placid and beaming, that a 
 ray from heaven appeared to have fallen upon 
 their features. These, I found, were the mo- 
 ments of well-conducted study, calm reflection, 
 and self-examination. Some, again, had no 
 bodies ; and their wings were decked with all 
 hues and colours, as if each were a rainbow ; 
 but at the same time, like the painted follower 
 of the summer cloud, they were thin, transparent, 
 and unsubstantial. These, he informed, me, 
 were times of vain imaginations, and unreason- 
 able desires. A multitude came next ; many of 
 whom had the brow bent, and the corners of the 
 mouth drawn into a kind of sneer. There were 
 others, whose features at once displayed a tear 
 
 H 2 
 
148 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 and a smile, both so bright, it was impossible to 
 sav which was the most radiant. Of these two 
 sorts, the first were the moments of cynicism 
 and misanthropy; and the second displayed 
 the times given to particular charity or general 
 benevolence. 
 
 '* And now," said my great grandfather, " for 
 the next twenty years." 
 
 " Stop, stop, my dear sir," cried I, " remem- 
 ber I am not sixty yet." 
 
 " Fifty-nine years, six months, three days, 
 eleven hours, five-and-twenty minutes, four 
 seconds," replied he in an angry tone. The 
 fearful recapitulation put an end both to my 
 dream and my slumber ; and starting up in my 
 chair, I found — the clock striking. 
 
 There were many other contributions, but I 
 have only kept a copy of two more, the first of 
 Mhich was suggested by the apprehensions ex- 
 pressed by one of the party, lest the multipUca- 
 tion of steam-engines should ultimately exhaust 
 all the fuel in the v. orld. The second was oc- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 149 
 
 casioned by a reference made to the days when 
 we had first met, by one in whom the equanimity 
 of a high mind had preserved all the freshness 
 of extreme youth. 
 
150 
 
 THE LAST FIRE 
 
 A VISION OF STEAM. 
 
 [As I sat, a few nights ago, reading in the newspapers 
 many alarming calculations concerning the consumption 
 of fuel by the multiplication of steam-engines, I fell 
 into a dose, when the following awful and prophetic vision 
 presented itself to my eyes. Immediately on waking, it fell 
 naturally, as it were, into verse ; and I think the subject too 
 important to be withheld from public consideration.] 
 
 I SLEPT ; and, in a vision, to my eyes 
 Nature's last tragedy appeared to rise. 
 Man's climbing mind had subtilised each art. 
 Sublimed the whole, and perfected each part. 
 Laws, arts, and arms, had undergone a change. 
 Not less magnificent because most strange. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 151 
 
 Steam, mighty steam ! had superseded all — 
 Made horses bankrupts, and made bread to fall. 
 Steam-boats, steam-guns, steam-kitchens, and steam-coaches, 
 To this perfection made the first approaches: 
 But this was nothing to the wond'rous steaming 
 The future showed me as I lay a-dreaming. 
 Vain in description to waste precious paper — 
 Suffice it, Europe was one cloud of vapour ! 
 
 But, ah ! alas ! that vapour e'er should feel "^^ 
 
 The rotatory roll of Fortune's wheel ! 
 Fuel grew dear ! French forests fell like grass ; 
 Tynemouth, Wall-end, and Kennell, cried, " Alas!" 
 Nor even could the Indian savage roam 
 Through ancient woods, his dim primeval home. 
 Long every shrub, and bush, and branch, and tree. 
 Had heated boilers, and had ceased to be •, 
 And men were forced to turn to uses vile 
 Full many a laboured, many a learned pile. 
 Many a volume too, and many a tome. 
 Sharing alike the universal doom, 
 Now proved a blessing, where they proved a bore, 
 And blazed ^vith fire they never knew before ! 
 Wondrous ! with what avidity men brought 
 Those solemn works with wit and learning fraught, — 
 State records, parliamentary debates. 
 Polemic tracts, and essays upon states, — 
 To light the fire which every parish vowed 
 To warm the noses of the coal-less crowd. 
 
152 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Romances next were hurled into the flame ; 
 Next poets, play writers, historians, came : 
 Last, Homer, Virgil, Milton, Shakespeare, Scott, 
 With many a sigh, v/ere added to the lot : 
 But these the umvilling o^vners e'en confessed 
 Burned longer, clearer, brighter, than the rest. 
 Next furniture was fetched — drawers, tables, chairs, 
 Beds, stools, and every sort of wooden wares ; 
 Till men were forced to seek the aid of stones 
 To bear their dinners and to rest their bones ; 
 Till all was burnt. Then surly Winter rose, 
 And took blue wretches by the frozen nose ; 
 And sad it was to see each chilly Avight, 
 With hands in pockets and coat buttoned tight, 
 Run up and do\\Ti the waste, uncovered earth, 
 Cui-sed with black cold, sad enemy to mirth ; 
 And, as they ran, remorse their bosoms tore, 
 For joys they'd heedless cast away before. 
 Dandies and Russians, Dutchmen, bargemen, tars, 
 Regretted wasted pipes and lost segars ; 
 And patriot Catholics and Irish priests 
 Thought good wood wasted on heretic beasts, 
 Called Smithfield fire-lighting a thriftless trade, 
 And bloody Mary but a wasteful jade. 
 
 Vainly they ran ! No cheering warmth they found, 
 And the dull sky upon their mis'ry frowned ; 
 And when they entered in their doorless homes, 
 'Twas stony coldness all like empty tombs. 
 
THE DESULTORY 3IAN. 153 
 
 With frenzied energy they dug the ground, 
 Or dived the sea. Nor coal nor wood they found ! 
 And many a ^vTetch would lay him down to die. 
 And welcome Death without one envious sigh ; 
 No terrors found they in his icy stare — 
 They could not well be colder than they were. 
 Still many raged and struggled for warm life, 
 And waged ^vith cold and death unequal strife. 
 Dined on raw cabbages, devoured raw beef, 
 Gained indigestion, but gained no relief. 
 
 One man there was — a waterman by trade. 
 Erst in green coat and -plated badge arrayed ; 
 Men called him Fish, and rightly him did call — 
 For he could dive and swim, possessing all 
 The useful attributes of finny birth — 
 Finding the water warmer than the earth. 
 He spent his time in diving ; and one day 
 Found in the river's bottom, where they lay 
 Hid from the danger of devouring flames. 
 The stakes that Ctesar drove into the Thames ! 
 " Ho, ho !" cried he ; " I've found a treasure here 
 Shall warm me snugly till the rolling year 
 Brings jolly summer." So with might and main 
 He tugged them forth and bore them to the plain : — 
 But, now he'd got them, he had still to learn 
 That wood when wet is difficult to bum. 
 Quick-^vitted in himself, he well divined. 
 Though cold at heart, some warmth remained behind ; 
 
 H 5 
 
154 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 And having ranged the timber -with much art, 
 He sat and dried it with his broadest part. 
 A long, long week, seven weary nights and days. 
 Drying the expectant pile he careful stays. 
 Thus o'er her nest the mother eagle broods ; 
 Or thus the phoenix of Arabian woods 
 Sits on his aromatic pile, whose fire. 
 Of new life redolent, shall soon aspire. 
 
 At length 'twas dry ! Now with an eager hand 
 Two flints he seized and fired each rotten brand — 
 Each rotten brand a grateful ardour showed ; 
 Forth burst the flame, and on the sky it glowed. 
 High rose the flame ; too high, alas ! for now 
 An ancient woman, on a mountain's brow, 
 Running some worsted through a needle's eye, 
 (What is it not old women will descry ?) 
 Found out the fire for Fish that fvirtive flamed, 
 And forth with scream and shout the fact proclaimed. 
 " A fire ! A fire ! A fire !" the beldam cried ; -v 
 
 " A fire ! A fire !" the village all replied •, t 
 
 " A fire ! A fire ! A fire !" was echoed far and wide. ) 
 
 Each babe took up the tale, each ancient sire. 
 Though deaf, and l^lind, and lame, repeated " Fire !" 
 High, low, rich, poor, good, bad, — all cold the same, — 
 Loud shouted " Fire ! " and kindled at the name. 
 First hamlets, villages, assumed the cry ; 
 Through burghs and cities theu the tidings fly ; 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 155 
 
 All traced them back to where they first began •, — 
 All bawled out " Fire !"" and as they bawled they ran. 
 Now Fish, who selfishly had hoped alone 
 T' enjoy the fire that he himself had won. 
 Astonished sees the world around feim swarm — 
 Millions on millions, eager to get warm ! 
 
 On, on, they rushed, one on the other prest •, 
 And still the crowd behind impelled the rest. 
 All nations, languages, heights, features, hues. 
 That the wide universe could then produce, 
 Running, and jostling, scrambling, tumbling came. 
 Jammed into marmalade around that flame. 
 
 Then Fish, indignant, cried with loud command, — 
 A brandished boat-hook in his dauntless hand, 
 
 " Stand back, my masters ! You may all be d d ! 
 
 The fire's my own, and I will not be bammed ! 
 
 Or since the generous ardour fires your soul 
 
 To seek this genial flame, from either pole. 
 
 With me, its lord, possession to contend. 
 
 And squeeze me flat my right while I defend — 
 
 Thus I defy you, caitiffs all, and dare 
 
 The bold to follow, and my fate to share ! " * 
 
 * The hero of this tale is, or rather was, a real character 
 (like all the other true heroes in the true tales of this true his- 
 tory.) His name was Peter Fish, a waterman, plying at Hun- 
 
156 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Proudly he said, and sprang into the flame : 
 High o'er his head the fiery eddies came •, 
 The crowd beheld, and, maddened with the sight. 
 Dashed on the blaze, and perished in the light. 
 The fire was out ; but still they onward rushed : — 
 The far extremes the narrow centre pushed, 
 Squeezed, jammed, cast down, one on the other rose, 
 And many a mortal trod on his o^vn nose. 
 Each in his eagerness his fellow mashed : 
 The sun went down — and all the world was squashed ! 1 ! 
 
 gerford Stairs, and many a time has his wherry borne me over 
 the Thames, when I was a reckless schoolboy. He was a 
 good-humoured soul as ever lived, rather fond of the bottle 
 Jind of a little rhodomontade. 
 
157 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 
 
 I WISH I could as merry be 
 
 As when I set out this world to see, 
 
 Like a boat filled with good companie, 
 
 On some gay voyage sent. 
 There Youth spread forth the broad white sail, 
 Sure of fair weather and fiill gale, 
 Confiding life would never fail, 
 
 Nor time be ever spent : 
 
 And Fancy whistled for the wind ; 
 And if e'en Memory looked behind, 
 Twas but some friendly sight to find, 
 
 And gladsome wave her hand ; 
 And Hope kept whispering in Youth's ear, 
 To spread more sail and never fear. 
 For the same sky would still be clear 
 
 Until they reached the land. 
 
158 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Health, too, and Strength tugged at the oar, 
 Mirth mocked the passing billows' roar, 
 And Joy, with goblet running o'er, 
 
 Drank draughts of deep delight ; 
 And Judgment at the helm they set, 
 But Judgment was a child as yet, 
 And, lack-a-day ! was all unfit 
 
 To guide the boat aright. 
 
 Bubbles did half her thoughts employ, 
 Hope she believed, she played with Joy, 
 And Passion bribed her with a toy. 
 
 To steer which way he chose. 
 But still they were a merry crew, 
 And laughed at dangers as untrue, 
 Till the dim sky tempestuous grew, 
 
 And sobbing south winds rose. 
 
 Then Prudence told them all she feared ; 
 But Youth awhile his messmates cheered 
 Until at length he disappeared, 
 
 Though none knew how he went. 
 Joy hung his head, and Mirth grew dull. 
 Health faltered, Strength refused to pull, 
 And Memory, with her soft eyes full. 
 
 Backward her glance still bent, 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 159 
 
 To where, upon the distant sea, 
 Bursting the storm's dark canopy, 
 Light, from a sun none now could see, 
 
 Still touched the whirling wave. 
 And though Hope, gazing from the bow. 
 Turns oft, — she sees the shore, — to vow. 
 Judgment, grown older now I trow. 
 
 Is silent, stem, and grave. 
 
 And though she steers with better skill, 
 And makes her fellows do her will, 
 Fear says, the storm is rising still. 
 
 And day is almost spent. — 
 Oh, that I could as merry be 
 As when I set out this world to see. 
 Like a boat filled Anth good companie. 
 
 On some gay voyage sent ! 
 
160 
 
 THE PRISON AND THE CASTLE. 
 
 For ah ! what is there of inferior birth 
 That breathes or creeps upon the dust of earth — 
 What wretched creature, of what wretched kind, 
 Than man more weak, calamitous, and blind ? 
 
 Pope's Hosier. 
 
 In such amusements as I have described passed 
 our evenhigs at Pau ; but the days were generally 
 spent in roaming through the beautiful scenery 
 in the neighbourhood. At length, however, the 
 time for drinking the mineral waters arrived, 
 and we prepared to migrate with the rest. 
 There were two objects however in Pau which 
 we had not yet seen. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 161 
 
 Hitherto, we had lingered away our time 
 without either visiting the prison or the 
 castle ; and, as we were about to set out the 
 next day for Cauterets, we proceeded to the old 
 chateau, though the evening was beginning to 
 close in. We were well aware that there was 
 little to be seen, but to have quitted the capital 
 of Beam without seeing the birth-place of Henry 
 'IV. would have been a high offence. 
 
 I hate prisons — there is something so repul- 
 sive in beholding man debarred the first privi- 
 lege of nature, that, however necessary it may 
 be to the safety of society, it makes me sick 
 at heart to see it. No man, I have been told, 
 felt this so much as Howard, and it was this 
 that first caused him to turn the energies of his 
 truly great mind towards alleviating the conco- 
 mitant misery of those who were already 
 wretched enough. 
 
 However, my object was to give my mind as 
 much occupation of every kind as I could, and 
 we accordingly proceeded to the prison, where 
 the first sight that presented itself, was that of 
 a maniac in a frightful state of insanity. We 
 
162 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 paused for a moment to inquire if nothing could 
 be done for the unhappy being ; and then as we 
 were crossing the court, the voice of one of the 
 prisoners singing in the tower above, caught our 
 ear, and we stopped again to Hsten. The air 
 and the voice was both pecuUarly beautiful ; and 
 I easily obtained the words, which I now sub- 
 join. I will not attempt to describe the effect 
 of the sight of the maniac and the sound of that 
 song. 
 
 PRISONER'S SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 I know not, and I care not, how 
 The hours may pass me by, 
 
 Though each may leave upon my brow 
 A furrow, as they fly; 
 
 What matters it 1 Each still shall take 
 
 One link from off the chain 
 Which binds me to this bitter stake 
 
 Of sorrow and of pain. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 163 
 
 3. 
 Time, like a rower, plies his oar, 
 
 And all his strokes are hours, 
 Impelling to a better shore 
 
 Of sunshine and of flowers. 
 
 4. 
 I've tasted all that life can give 
 
 Of pleasure and of pain ; 
 And is it living, thus to live. 
 
 When joys no more remain 1 
 
 5. 
 
 I've tasted woman's ardent lip, 
 
 Glowing with Love's first fire ; 
 And yet been forc'd the cup to sip 
 
 Of coldness or of ire. 
 
 6. 
 All nature has bad charms for me, 
 
 The sunshine and the shade ; 
 The soaring lark, the roving bee, 
 
 The mountain and the glade. 
 
 7. 
 
 And I have been the tempest's child, 
 
 And known the lightning's touch ; 
 Mark'd midst the mad storm's warfare wild 
 
 Too little, or too much. 
 
164 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 8. 
 And I have seen my own blood flow 
 
 Red, in the deadly strife ; 
 And others I have taught to know 
 
 How dear they held to life. 
 
 9. 
 I've play'd with being as a toy, 
 
 Till things have lost their form, 
 Till danger has become a joy, 
 
 And joy become a storm. 
 
 10. 
 I've lov'd as man has seldom lov'd, 
 
 So deeply, purely, well ; 
 I've prov'd what man has seldom prov'd, 
 
 Since first from bliss he fell. 
 
 11. 
 Mine eye again can never see 
 
 What once mine eye has seen ; 
 This world to me can never be 
 
 What once this world has been. 
 
 12. 
 
 Speed on! O speed! my bark, speed on- 
 Quick o'er life's troubled waves ; 
 
 The one that comes, the one that's gone, 
 What lies beneath them ? Graves. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 165 
 
 The first apartment we were shown into con- 
 tained the prisoners sentenced to detention for 
 longer or shorter periods, according to their 
 crimes. They were all working hard, and, seem- 
 ingly, cheerfully ; and the jailor told me, that a 
 great object of those to whom the government of 
 the prison was committed was to give the pri- 
 soners habits of industry, and to prevent them, 
 by all means, from becoming utterly debased; so 
 that, when they again receive their liberty, they 
 may become better members of society instead of 
 worse. Their principal occupation seemed in 
 straws-work ; and as this is an easy and light 
 task, and fills up the moments which would 
 otherwise prove tedious in confinement, they 
 all appeared rather glad of it than otherwise. 
 A portion of the emolument proceeding from 
 their labour goes towards defraying the ex- 
 penses of the prison, and a portion is reserved 
 for the prisoner, in order that, when he goes 
 back into the world, he may not again be driven 
 to crime by poverty. 
 
 We next visited the apartment where were 
 confined prisoners who had incurred severer 
 
166 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 punishment. They were generally persons con- 
 demned to the galleys for seven years or for 
 life, and were waiting here till their sentence 
 should be put in execution. When we entered 
 there were several groups playing at piquet for 
 sums of one or two sous. Amongst others was 
 a lawyer, who had been sentenced to the galleys 
 for forgery. I have generally remarked that 
 those condemned for any serious crime have a 
 heavy stupid expression of countenance and dull 
 unmeaning eye ; but this man was an exception. 
 In his face there was plenty of keen, piercing 
 cunning, with a touch of sarcastic bitterness, 
 which showed itself also in his speech. He 
 spoke to us for some time, and, hke all villains, 
 tried to darken his view of mankind till it be- 
 came of the same hue as his own character. 
 He took it for granted that all men were rascals, 
 but only that he had been an unfortunate one. 
 
 From hence we went to the dungeons, where 
 still deeper crimes awaited their reward. A 
 damp obscure stone passage led to the cell 
 where two murderers were confined expecting 
 their execution. They were Spaniards, and 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 167 
 
 had left nothing in the perpetration of their 
 crime to excite anything but horror. Their 
 victim had been one of their countrymen, who, 
 having fled from the troubles and dangers which 
 distressed his native land, had contrived to carry 
 away a small sum to support him in his exile ; 
 and this proved the cause of their guilt and of 
 his death. The evidence against them had left 
 not a doubt of the facts, but yet they were suf- 
 fered to linger on from week to week, not know- 
 ing which day would be their last, while (as we 
 were told,) the Spanish ambassador pleaded 
 their cause at Paris, and endeavoured to procure 
 a commutation of their punishment, on account 
 of their having shown themselves staunch royal- 
 isls. They seemed to be heavily and almost 
 cruelly chained, but nevertheless to mind it but 
 little, smoking their cigars, and counting their 
 rosaries with great sangfroid, 
 
 I spoke a few words to them in Spanish con- 
 cerning their situation, to which they replied 
 without any show of feeling, appearing very 
 cheerful, quite careless about dying, and not 
 particularly contrite. 
 
168 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Although there can be no doubt that the long 
 habit of indulging in any passion gives a pecu- 
 culiar expression to the countenance and some- 
 times even a cast to the features, I put little 
 faith in physiognomy, in the general acceptation 
 of the word ; but I could not help remarking, 
 that the heads of these two men were precisely 
 similar to those of all murderers whom I have 
 seen, almost spherical in shape, with the fore- 
 head low but rather protuberant, and the eye 
 dull and heavy. 
 
 We went next to see the room in the castle 
 where Jeanne d'Albret brought forth the 
 heroic Henry IV., heard the story of her singing 
 even in the pains of child-birth in order that the 
 infant might prove a strong and resolute man, 
 and were gratified with a sight of the tortoise- 
 shell in which he was cradled — though, be it re- 
 marked, that one tortoise-shell cradle was burnt 
 during the revolution. Afterwards, however, the 
 governor of the castle produced the present one 
 as genuine, asserting that the one demolished 
 was not that which had served the monarch for 
 a cradle. Thus that which is shov.n at present 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 169 
 
 has acquired the additional interest of uncer- 
 tainty, notwithstanding which, the Bourbon 
 family have surrounded it with gilt helmets and 
 spears, tinsel and tawdry, which might well suit 
 a toy-shop but not the birth-place of Henri 
 Quatre. 
 
 As we were to set out very early the next 
 morning for the mountains, we proposed to rest 
 early, but did not fulfil that purpose. On the 
 contrary, we sat late talking over all the plea- 
 sant moments which we had snatched from fate, 
 in the little capital of Beam, and our lucubra- 
 tions ended in an 
 
 ADIEU TO PAU. 
 
 Adieu, perchance for but a clay, 
 
 Perchance for many a year ; 
 While life's bright part shall slip away, 
 And Hope shall yield to Memory, 
 
 With many a tear. 
 
 But if imagination too, 
 
 Be not amongst things been, 
 Her magic power shall call to view, 
 The kind, the good, that brightened you, 
 
 Repeopling the scene. 
 
 VOL. in. I 
 
170 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Adieu, sweet congress of fair things, 
 
 Stream, mountain, valley, plain ; 
 And e'en when Time man's winter brings. 
 Remembrance still shall lend me wings. 
 To visit thee again. 
 
]71 
 
 LOURDES. 
 
 Dim grottos, gleaming lakes, and fountains clear. 
 
 I BELIEVE it to be all the same, after all, whether 
 a man travels or not; he's a stupid, cross- 
 grained, drudging animal, not half so good as 
 the horse that drags him on his road. Blest 
 with reason, it serves him less than the instinct 
 of the brute ; with experience constantly flogging 
 him for his errors, he never corrects them ; half 
 of his time he forgets what is right, and when 
 he remembers it he never puts it in practice. 
 
 Such were my reflections, on finding — what? 
 that John had forgotten that most indispensable 
 requisite to an Englishman's comfort, the tea- 
 kettle, at the instant we were leaving Pau. He 
 had done so at every place where he had stop- 
 
 I 2 
 
172 THE DESULTORY MAX. 
 
 ped on the road, and now he had to bring it 
 down stairs, to tie it on the carriage, to cover 
 it with the oil-skin, and, in short, to detain the 
 whole party, postilion, and horses, and all, for at 
 least five minutes. 
 
 Now, being very well aware that when I begin 
 to moralize on trifles I am never in the best hu- 
 mour in the world, and judging by this infallible 
 sign that I was in an ill temper, from having got 
 up at four o'clock in the morning, I placed my- 
 self deep in the corner of the carriage, and pre- 
 tended to fall asleep, for fear I should quarrel 
 with my companion, which. Heaven knows, 
 would have been no easy matter. However, 
 as the carriage drove out of Pau, and began 
 rolling along, in a dull gray morning, over 
 smooth ground, it became no longer a pre- 
 tence, and I began seriously to make repara- 
 tion for my morning's idleness — I mean for not 
 having slept ; as I consider not to sleep at the 
 moments properly appropriated for it just as 
 great a piece of idleness as any other misuse 
 that man makes of his time. 
 
 I finished my nap as we crossed a bridge over 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 173 
 
 the Gave not very far from Lastelle. My friend, 
 who, it appears, had occupied himself much 
 hke myself, woke up at the same time, and look- 
 ing back to Pau, which we saw diminishing afar, 
 I am sure we both thought of the friends we left 
 there, of the kindness they had shown to wan- 
 dering strangers, and the peaceful hours we had 
 known in their society. I may never more see 
 them again ; if so, God bless them, for I am 
 sure they deserve it. 
 
 It was scarcely past mid-day when we arrived 
 at Lourdes. The approach is not unlike some 
 of Mrs. RadclifFe's descriptions : the hills begin- 
 ning to rise high and craggy on each side, with 
 a wild torrent rushing in a valley below ; and 
 beyond, the Castle of Lourdes, starting up on a 
 high rock in the midst, sometimes seen and 
 sometimes hidden, as the road winds along the 
 side of the mountain. It was market-day at 
 Lourdes, and a curious scene, the whole place 
 being impassable for the crowd of the Bearnais, 
 with their Calmuck countenances and broad 
 berrets, and the Bearnaises, each covered with a 
 red or white triangular hood, edged with a black 
 
174 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 border, hiding the greater part of the head, and 
 faUing low down on the shoulders. 
 
 I have before mentioned the sight-seeing pro- 
 pensities of my companion and myself; and 
 though I had abjured grottoes, as the most un- 
 satisfactory of all things, the first of our move- 
 ments was towards the " Spelu7ique (or cavern,) 
 du Loup.'' It lies some way on the other side 
 of the river, and, on arriving, we found the en- 
 trance so low that we were obliged to go in, not 
 upon our hands and knees, but upon our faces. 
 The guide went first, and then my friend, who 
 is six feet three, so that I thought he would 
 never have done — there was such a quantity 
 of him. 
 
 The cave widens rapidly after the entrance, 
 elevating itself to a great height, and resembling 
 in many places the niches and aisles of a Gothic 
 cathedral. In the end it is terminated by a deep 
 v/ell, into which the guide threw some pieces of 
 stone, which continued echoing, as they fell, for 
 several minutes. But the most curious thing 
 we observed was the soil near the mouth of the 
 grotto, which appeared entirely formed from the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 175 
 
 fragments of insects. We examined several por- 
 tions of this black sort of earth and uniformly 
 found it composed of parts of the legs, wings, 
 and corslets, of what had apparently been small 
 beetles. 
 
 After the cavern, we went, in a different 
 direction, to visit a lake said to occupy the 
 spot where a mountain once stood, which 
 suddenly disappeared at the time of an earth- 
 quake. The only beauty of the place was the 
 reflection of the hills around in the deep smooth 
 water, and one might almost fancy they saw the 
 ghost of the vanished mountain haunting its old 
 abode and looking up from the bottom of the 
 lake. 
 
 The whole of the country round is strewed 
 with old towers and castles, which have been 
 erected at different periods ; some to check the 
 descent of the mountaineers, who used h^re, as 
 well as in Scotland, to exact a kind of black 
 mail fi'om the inhabitants of the low lands ; some 
 to guard against the Moors, who, during their 
 residence in Spain, used frequently to invade 
 and ravage the country ; and some are even at- 
 
176 THE DESULTORY MAN, 
 
 tributed to the Romans, but I should think, 
 from their appearance, with little foundation for 
 the supposition. 
 
 However, like all mountaineers, the people 
 are full of old legends; and ancient supersti- 
 tions, driven from the more civilized globe, 
 seem to have refuged themselves in the obscurity 
 of these unfrequented hills. 
 
 They tell a droll story of the lord of one of 
 the old castles of which I have just spoken, not 
 at all unlike " Alonzo the Brave and the fair 
 Imogine," but still more like the story of the 
 noble Morringer. 
 
177 
 
 THE DEVIL AND THE CRUSADER. 
 
 Aeday as the earle gaed up the lang glen, 
 
 Hey and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme, 
 He met wi' auld Nick, wha said, how do ye fen, 
 
 And the thyme it is withered and rue is in prime. 
 I've got a bad wife, sir, that's a' my complaint, 
 
 Hey and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme, 
 For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint, 
 
 And the thyme it is withered and rue is in prime. 
 
 Kelt.yburn Braes. 
 
 In those good old times so much to be regretted, 
 when every noble had the right and privilege of 
 administering justice or injustice on his own 
 vassals, when hanging was in the hands of the 
 gentry, and law in the mouth of every feudal 
 
 I 5 
 
178 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 chief — when the crumbling towers, where the 
 moping owl now sits in melancholy solitude, 
 were people with the gay, and the bright, and 
 the fair — when the courts where the lonely wind 
 whistles as in mockery of their emptiness, re- 
 sounded to the clang of arms and the voice of 
 the trumpet — when feast and revel filled those 
 halls, where now sits nothing but silence and de- 
 solation ; — the bravest of the brave was the 
 
 Lord of the Chateau de B^ , and the fairest 
 
 of the fair was his lady. Beauty and wit were 
 hers, and courage and wealth were his, and all 
 thought the Marquis the happiest of mortals, 
 except himself. How it came about, and why, 
 does not appear, but a violent hatred took place 
 between the Marquis and a neighbouring Baron, 
 but histories do not mention that the Mar- 
 chioness participated in her husband's dis- 
 like. 
 
 Some said, that the Marquis was jealous, and 
 called him " poor man !" but as if to give them 
 all the lie, and prove that he loved his wife 
 dearly and suspected her not at all, he came to 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 179 
 
 a sudden resolution to call together his vassals 
 and retainers and join the crusade, for it was just 
 about this time that Peter the Hermit went 
 through Europe like a mad dog, infecting every- 
 body with a desire to bite the Saracens. Every 
 wise man makes a will, and the Marquis wisely 
 calculating that a man who goes to cut other folk's 
 throats, may find some one by the way to cut his 
 own, caused to be made and delivered his last will 
 and testament, leaving all his goods and effects, 
 real and personal, to his dearly beloved wife in 
 case of his death ; and further adding a proviso, 
 that if he did not return or send a messenger 
 announcing his existence within seven years, 
 she might look upon him as dead to all intents 
 and purposes, and marry again to her heart's 
 content : but he made it a private request, that 
 she would never espouse the obnoxious Baron, 
 which she promised faithfully not to do. 
 
 Now when the will was made as above stated by 
 the Marquis's chaplain, who could read and write, 
 the Marquis, who could not, made a cross at the 
 bottom and stamped the wax with the pommel 
 of his sword, and the Marchioness kissed her 
 
180 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 lord and wept bitterly to think of his dying 
 at all. 
 
 At length the dreaded day of departure came. 
 The vassals and retainers marched out of the 
 castle in gallant array, and the Marquis's page 
 told him that his charger was prepared, where- 
 upon the Marchioness fainted — dead as a stone. 
 The Marquis waited till she had recovered, and 
 then snatched himself away and departed, while 
 the Marchioness, with flowing tears and stream- 
 ing hair, stood in the highest tower watching the 
 horsemen till the top of the last spear was hid 
 behind the mountain, and then she came down 
 and said to the servant, " At home to nobody 
 
 but the Baron." 
 
 * # * * * 
 
 In the mean time the Marquis joined the 
 crusaders, arrived safely in the Holy Land, and 
 for some time performed prodigies of valour; 
 till at length one of these same prodigies con- 
 ducted him into a Saracen prison, where he 
 lingered, like good King Lusignan, living prin- 
 cipally upon roasted chesnuts and mare*s milk, 
 for there were no cows in Jerusalem. His for- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. l8l 
 
 titude would have melted a heart of stone, but 
 as it did not melt the stones of the prison, it 
 served him but little, although being of an inge- 
 nious turn, he used occasionally to carve figures 
 on little sticks, and make whistles out of a mar- 
 rowbone when he could get one. 
 
 In these dignified employments had the Mar- 
 quis expended many years, and memory, who 
 impudently keeps throwing in our teeth all that 
 is disagreeable, could not forbear telling him, 
 that the sun had seven times run his course 
 since last he left his mountain castle in the Py- 
 renees ; and on this was he meditating, when 
 suddenly up started a gentleman, whom he in- 
 stantly perceived to be the devil. 
 
 There is no one more ill-used, in my opinion, 
 than the above-named personage. However broad 
 his back may be, surely all the sins that are laid 
 to his charge, and of which he is as innocent as 
 the child unborn, are well sufficient to bow it. 
 The poor devil ! O luxury, pride, vain glory, 
 avarice, anger, hatred, revenge, and all un- 
 charitableness ; what, what would ye do if ye 
 
182 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 had not his shoulders to cast your burden upon ? 
 O vanitas vanitatis ! But as I was saying, 
 the devil walked into the dungeon, whereupon 
 the crusader crossed himself. " My dear sir," 
 said his black majesty, "don't disturb yourself; 
 such old friends ought not to stand upon cere- 
 monies." 
 
 The crusader made him a low bow, saying, 
 that the devil really had the advantange of him, 
 and that he was not aware of having the plea- 
 sure of his acquaintance. 
 
 " Not personally, indeed," said the devil, 
 " but you have done me so much service one 
 way or another, that I owe you some return. 
 You stare, my dear sir, but you have sent to my 
 dominions, with your own hand, three-and- thirty 
 Saracens, two renegades, and an atheist. Be- 
 tween you and me, it is all the same to me," said 
 the devil, " of what religion they are, so that I 
 have them safe ; and now I have got to give 
 you a piece of news and make you a proposal." 
 And then the devil — whether it was that he 
 does not patronize love of any kind, or whether 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 183 
 
 he thought that the Marchioness had had 
 enough of it to answer his purpose, or what, 1 
 don't know, but he told the Marquis, that as he 
 had neither returned nor sent during seven 
 years, his wife was that very night going to give 
 her hand to the obnoxious Baron, and he farther 
 offered to carry him back instantly to his own 
 chateau in the Pyrenees, if they could agree 
 upon the terms. 
 
 This tickled the Marquis's fancy, but the 
 devil was rather exhorbitant, demanding the 
 knight's heart and soul. The crusader replied, 
 that his heart was his king's, and his soul was 
 his God's, and so that would not do. The devil 
 then asked for all his wealth at his death, and 
 to be instantly installed his chaplain, if he could 
 prove that he had taken orders. The Marquis 
 answered, " L' habit ne fait pas le moine." The 
 devil then made several other proposals, but the 
 knight was a stickler, and did not thinli a bad 
 wife worth much. So at last the devil took off 
 his hat saying, " What your honour pleases," 
 leaving it to his own generosity ; and the cru- 
 sader, who had learnt to be a screw, said he 
 
184 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 would only give him the remains of his 
 supper. 
 
 " You are a hard man," said the devil, " but 
 never mind ! jump up !" — and down he bent his 
 back for the Marquis to mount. The knight 
 sprang into the seat, stuck his knees into the 
 devil's sides, and away they went like a flash of 
 lightning till they arrived at the chateau, where 
 they put the good people in no small confusion. 
 The knight walked first and the devil came 
 after, and all the servants ran into the banquet- 
 hall crying, " The Marquis ! the Marquis !" 
 Up jumped the Baron, up jumped the Mar- 
 chioness, up jumped the guests. 
 
 The Marquis's movements were rather rapid ; 
 he walked into the hall, claimed his wife, 
 kicked the Baron, wished the company good 
 night, overturned the supper table and spoilt the 
 supper, so that when order was restored, and he 
 called for something to eat, there was nothing 
 to be had but a dozen of nuts and a bottle of 
 wine. The knight cracked the nuts, but, accord- 
 ing to his bargain, took care to throw the shells 
 over his shoulder for the devil, and when he 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. l85 
 
 had drank his wine, threw the bottle behind 
 him too : but the devil was too old a bird to be 
 caught with chaff, and had been gone half an 
 hour before. So the crusader pulled off his 
 boots and went to bed. 
 
186 
 
 ARGELES. 
 
 Et nunc omnis ager nunc omnis parturit arbos, 
 Nunc frondent silvae nunc formosissimus annus. 
 
 There was nothing more to be seen at Lourdes 
 but the castle, and as that is now used only as a 
 state prison we did not visit it. In scenes 
 where liberty seems the charter of the place, as 
 it does in these mountains, its loss is doubly 
 dreadful. Besides, we had seen enough of prisons 
 at Pau. 
 
 At Lourdes the Pyrenees really begin, in this 
 direction, and from thence to Argeles, we passed 
 through a valley which made us feel the whole 
 force and truth of the expression of " a smiling 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 187 
 
 country^"* Richly cultivated at their bases, orr 
 each side rise mountains, covered with fields of 
 somewhat less luxuriance to their very summits. 
 Yet they lose none of their character of moun- 
 tains, for from the midst of a smooth verdant turf, 
 a mass of cold rugged rock will ever and anon 
 break out and hang frowning over the road; and in 
 other places where the mountaineers have carried 
 up the vegetable mould to the top of the crags, 
 which they frequently do, a small green meadow 
 will appear speading soft and rich, in the midst 
 of perfect desolation. At the further extremity, 
 the view penetrates into several other valleys, 
 which give long perspectives of hills sloping to 
 meet hills and far passes winding on into the 
 misty distance, till some obtrusive mountain 
 comes with its blue head and shuts the scene. 
 
 Frequent villages are strewed all through the 
 valley of Argeles, and every now and then some 
 old ruin raises itself from amongst the trees, 
 connecting the history of the past with the pre- 
 sent beauties of the scene. The tower of Vidalos 
 forms a striking object all along the road, stand- 
 ing on a wooded height in the midst, and seen 
 from every part of the valley. 
 
188 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 The best and most extensive view near Ar- 
 geles, is from an elevation to the north-west of 
 the town, called Le Balandrau, and certainly it 
 commands one of the most splendid panoramas 
 that can be conceived. Here, as in all the val- 
 leys of the Pyrenees, a mountain torrent runs in 
 the midst ; the lower part is filled with tow ns and 
 villages and woods; convents, and ruins, and 
 feudal castles rise next, with the hamlets they 
 formerly protected still clinging around them; 
 and above, on every side, are seen the immense 
 mountains over which the industry of man has 
 spread a rich robe of cultivation. The sun, as 
 it wanders over them, entirely changes their 
 aspect, from time to time, without, however, 
 robbing them of their beauty ; sometimes, throw- 
 ing them into deep shadow, all the minute parts 
 are lost in one grand obscurity, sometimes, 
 shining full upon them, a thousand objects of 
 interest are displayed, softened and harmonized 
 as they recede by the airy indistinctness of dis- 
 tance. 
 
 It had been our intention to proceed direct 
 from Lourdes to Cauterets, but there was a 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 189 
 
 charm in the valley of Argeles which there was 
 no resisting, and we dismissed the horses, re- 
 solving to stay at the little inn, however bad 
 the accommodation might be. But we were 
 agreeably disappointed in our auherge. The 
 people were civil and attentive, the beds clean 
 and good, the prices moderate, and even had 
 we been true French gastronomes, we must 
 have been well contented with our fare. 
 
 We spent the day in wandering about the 
 valley, seeking for new beauties, and enjoying 
 all we saw ; and in the evening retired to rest 
 full of ideas of loveliness, and contented with 
 the day. 
 
190 
 
 CAUTERETS. 
 
 Jlic secura quies et nescia fallere vita, 
 Dives opum variarum, hie latis otia fund is 
 Speluncse, vivique lacus,hic frigida Tempe. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 The next morning we proceeded to Pierrefitte, 
 and while some little alteration was taking 
 place in the harness before we could go on to- 
 wards Cauterets, a gendarme came up and 
 asked for our passports. I luckily had mine in 
 my pocket, though it had never been signed for 
 the Pyrenees, but it answered very well, and 
 was civilly returned, scarcely looked at. Not 
 so happened it to a poor traveller on foot, who 
 it appeared had no passport to show. When a 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 191 
 
 man is in the wrong, and wishes to go on in the 
 same way, he has but two resources, to bully or 
 sneak. The poor traveller chose the first, and 
 a violent quarrel ensued with the gendarme, 
 who swore that he should not proceed one step 
 without showing his passport, called out very 
 loud about doing his duty, slapped his hand upon 
 his heart, and talked about his honour. Find- 
 ing that bully would not answer, the traveller 
 had nothing for it but to sneak, so he asked the 
 gendarme to come and drink a bottle of wine 
 with him. The gendarme did not accept the in- 
 vitation, but he drank the wine, and the traveller 
 having paid for it walked on upon his way, while 
 the other remained on the spot, to prove, to all 
 who doubted it, what an honourable man he was, 
 and how well he did his duty. 
 
 When the harness was all completely arranged, 
 we passed on through the little town, and turn- 
 ing to the right entered the gorge of Cauterets. 
 Here again was a new change of mountain- 
 scenery gaining in grandeur what is lost in 
 \ richness and cultivation. From Pierrefitte the 
 road suddenly turns into a deep ravine, with the 
 
192 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 river rushing below, and immense masses of 
 crag rising many hundred feet above. But it 
 is not even here the bare, cold, hfeless stone. 
 Every spot where the root of a tree can fix itself, 
 every ledge where the least earth can rest, is 
 abundant in vegetable life, and all sorts of beau- 
 tiful foliage seem striving to form a screen for 
 the grey rock from which they spring. The 
 road winds on through this sort of scenery, 
 changing at every step, till, approaching Caute- 
 rets, the valley gradually widens, and again high 
 mountains surround it on every side, but far 
 bolder than those of Argeles, and covered near 
 the tops with dark forests of pines and sapins. 
 
 Cauterets is a complete watering-place, a sort 
 of barrack, which gets filled to the head the mo- 
 ment that fashion gives orders to march from 
 the greater cities. As soon as the sound of the 
 postman's whip was heard, all the inhabitants 
 rushed to their windows to see who was to be 
 added to their little world ; and amid the num- 
 ber of Vvhite bonnets and blue, red bonnets and 
 grey, which Paris had brought forth and Cau- 
 terets contained, we were fortunate enough to 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 193 
 
 discover two or three with the owners of which 
 we could claim acquaintance ; and then there 
 was pulhng off of hats, and bowing of heads, 
 and so forth, while a thousand gaping applicants 
 stood round the carriage pressing for our " linge 
 a blanchir," or for us to " manger chez-eux," 
 so that there was practice enough in the art of 
 refusing to train one for a prime minister. 
 
 We put up at the hotel of old Madame La- 
 pierre, who is an original in her way. Some fifty 
 years ago (I suppose) she kept a little atiberge 
 at Cauterets, when Cauterets was scarcely heard 
 of. She has grown into opulence as it has grown 
 in fame and size, and now is one of the richest 
 persons of the place. But still little Madame 
 Lapierre retains all her old habits : six days of 
 the week, trots about the kitchen in her original 
 dirt, peeps into the saucepans, counts the onions, 
 and scolds the servants, and the .seventh puts 
 on a clean muslin cap, and brings in one of the 
 dishes herself, to show how fine she is. Withal 
 she really is a very good old soul, civil, kind, 
 y and obhging ; the only thing is, that there is no 
 understanding a word that she says, for speak- 
 
 VOL. III. K 
 
194 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 ing patois sixty or seventy years has broken 
 all the teeth out of her head, and spoilt her arti- 
 culation. 
 
 Cauterets was as full as it could be. The vio- 
 lent hot weather had driven all the world out of 
 large towns, and health, pleasure, curiosity, and 
 fashion brought them all to the Pyrenees. Truly, 
 truly, they could not have chosen a sweeter spot ; 
 grandeur and beauty become so familiar to the 
 eye, that all the rest of the world does indeed look 
 " stale, flat, and unprofitable." Besides, there 
 are a thousand httle lovely nooks unhackneyed 
 by itineraries, which one is constantly finding 
 out for one's self. I hate itineraries, they are a 
 sort of Newgate Calendar, a record of all the 
 common tours which have been executed for the 
 last century. The Pyrenees have been but 
 little tourified, or if they have I knew nothing 
 about it, which came to the same thing. 
 
 There is a great difference between the Alps 
 and the Pyrenees; the Alps are a country of 
 mountains, the Pyrenees a chain. In Switzerland 
 one is obliged to go to seek mountains : in the 
 Pyrenees they start forward upon one ; all that is 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 195 
 
 beautiful and sublime is near at hand, and na- 
 ture seems fond of changing from one form of 
 grandeur to another. 
 
 Cauterets is surrounded on every side by 
 majestic hills, and the walk to each of the sul- 
 phureous springs, of which there are several, 
 displays new beauties at every step. That 
 called La Raillere is the most frequented, and 
 beyond it is a rich woody scene, dim and still, 
 with the river divided into three or four streams, 
 breaking over a high crag, and then foaming on 
 under a small bridge of planks, which leads 
 across from one rock to another. To the left 
 lies a beautiful valley, to which we made an 
 excursion with all the gay folks of the place. 
 The ladies were carried in machines called 
 chaises a porteurs, consisting simply of chairs 
 fixed on poles and covered in with oil-cloth on 
 all sides but one ; these are candied between 
 two men, whose dexterity is wonderful, bearing 
 their burden up steep rocks, and over broken 
 crags which seem quite impassable. Altogether 
 they are not ugly in a landscape, and as we 
 pedestrians stood upon the top of the hill and 
 
 k2 
 
196 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 watched two-and-twenty of them following more 
 slowly up the winding ascent, it had a very 
 curious and pleasing effect. The pleasure of 
 our party, however, was soon spoiled by a heavy 
 rain, which came on and drove us back towards 
 the town. Unfortunately, this is too frequent 
 an occurrence in mountainous countries, and 
 though the Pyrenees are less subject to it than 
 many other places, they still are by no means 
 exempt. 
 
 Though, in all probability, the good effect 
 produced by visiting these waters, is more to 
 be attributed to the exercise, fine air, and beau- 
 tiful scenery, than the benign influence of the 
 nymph, yet I have seen two or three glasses 
 from the well of La Raillere act in an extraor- 
 dinary manner upon one of my friends, enabling 
 him to walk for many miles without fatigue, 
 which his health would not have permitted 
 without some strong stimulus. However, the 
 effects generally attributed to these fountains 
 of the Pyrenees are rather amusing. The ac- 
 counts published of them begin like the puff of 
 a French charlatan, who states, that though 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 197 
 
 some men make extravagant pretensions for 
 their nostrum, that is not his case, there are 
 only one or two diseases which his remedy is 
 adapted to cure ; and then he goes on to recite 
 all the maladies incident to human nature. 
 
 The waters of Cauterets are thus stated to 
 be specific in wounds, rheumatisms, affections of 
 the liver, and the spleen, intermittent fevers, 
 consumption, diseases of the skin, and paralyses ; 
 and " &c." is put at the end to gratify the ima- 
 gination of the reader, in case he should have 
 any nondescript complaint which has not been 
 enumerated. 
 
198 
 
 THE LAC DE GAUB. 
 
 Care selve beate 
 
 E voi solinghi e tacitumi orrori 
 
 Di riposi e di pace alberghi veri 
 
 O quanto volentieri 
 
 A rivedervi io torno. 
 
 GUARINI. 
 
 It often happens in the Pyrenees, that the place 
 one goes to see is less worth seeing than the 
 road which leads to it. We set out early in the 
 morning for the Lac de Gaub, and passing the 
 principal fountain of Cauterets, turned to the 
 right where the path wound in amidst enormous 
 rocks and forests of sapins, with not a vestige 
 left of the civilized world,— all wild, and rough, 
 and desolate, with the high peaks of the moun- 
 tains almost shutting out the rays of the sun. 
 The road, if it can be called a road, appears 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 199 
 
 almost impracticable even on foot, but our guides 
 told us, that the Spanish mules are frequently 
 driven along it, and I have more than once since 
 seen the Spaniards pass it on horseback. 
 
 The river, during its course through this val- 
 ley, forms four principal cascades. The first, 
 called " De Cirizet," is very beautiful, falling 
 headlong down through a deep cleft in the rock, 
 which is entirely covered with dark woods. 
 The second, called " Le Pas de TOurs," is con- 
 nected with the other by the very tragical history 
 of a poor bear. Be it known, then, that at the 
 first waterfall, grew in days of yore a wild 
 cherry tree, from which, by corruption, it acquir- 
 ed the name of Cirizet. It was first of all " La 
 Cascade du Cerisier," the cataract of the cherry 
 tree, and from its root etymologists will have no 
 difiiculty in deriving " La Cascade de Cerizet." 
 A poor bear, who, hke ParnelFs hermit, far in a 
 wild remote from public view, had grown from 
 youth to age in harmless simplicity, was wont 
 every day to descend from his mountain hermitage 
 aild make a frugal meal upon the cherries that 
 grew beside the fall. 
 
200 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 However, it so unfortunately happened, that 
 bruin was induced to vary his diet. The demon 
 came tempting him in the shape of a shepherd 
 and a flock of sheep, and luxury, that most 
 penetrating evil, found its way even up to his 
 cave, whispering that every country gentleman 
 ought to kill his own mutton. 
 
 Bruin suflfered himself to be seduced by the 
 charms of one of the sheep. It is supposed, 
 that finding his virtue faihng, he resolved to fly, 
 but lingered still to give it one last embrace. 
 However that may be, the separation was too 
 cruel for either to bear, and his tender friend 
 expired in his arms. Heart-stricken, bruin 
 carried her mortal remains to his cave ; and for 
 some days was so overpowered with grief, that 
 he abandoned his favourite walk to the cherry- 
 tree cascade. At length, however, he once 
 more took his way towards it, but ah, hapless 
 tale ! the cruel shepherd had watched his 
 path, and dug away the support from the very 
 stone over which his way lay as he passed the 
 second cascade. Bruin advanced, ruminating 
 over his lost mutton ; — he put his two fore-feet 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 201 
 
 upon the treacherous stone ; — the stone gave 
 way, and down he rolled headlong into the tor- 
 rent, paying dear for not having contented him- 
 self with cherries. 
 
 The Pas de TOurs, unconnected with its little 
 tragedy, would be less interesting and is less 
 beautiful than the fall of the Pont d'Espagne, 
 where the path passing over the stream by a 
 little wooden bridge, leads through the Port de 
 Cauterets into Spain. Here two rivers flowing 
 diagonally through long mountain passes, till 
 they come near the brim of a precipice, 
 plunge over the edge of the rock and meet 
 in the deep chasm below, foaming and thun- 
 dering as they join. Nothing can be more 
 magnificent than to stand on the few unshaped 
 trunks of trees which form the bridge, and look 
 down upon the meeting of the waters, for ever 
 rushing on with a dazzhng whiteness and un- 
 ceasing roar, while a thousand flowers are grow- 
 ing peacefully on the very brink ; and a variety 
 of shrubs and trees are dipping their branches 
 in the spray. 
 
 When we were there the sun shone strongly 
 
 K 5 
 
202 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 on the mist which the fall raises, and arched it 
 with a sunbow, that hung flickering over the 
 waters like the banner of the contending 
 streams. 
 
 The road which had been ascending all the 
 way, now began to mount rapidly, as if seeking 
 the very clouds, and in about half-an-hour we 
 reached the small mountain lake called the Lac 
 de Gaub, situated at a great height above 
 the level of the sea, but surrounded by hills still 
 more elevated. It is calm, silent, and solitary ; 
 though the turf that dips itself in the clear 
 waters of the lake is carpeted with a thousand 
 flowers of every hue and living with many 
 a painted butterfly, yet there is a solemn still- 
 ness in the whole, which makes one afraid of 
 speaking for fear of breaking the silence which 
 has dwelt for ages amongst those mountains. 
 The waters, too, harmonized with the rest ; they 
 were deep, clear, and calm, without a ripple 
 upon their bosom. I could have fancied them 
 the waters of oblivion, and took a draught to 
 try, but it did not answer. The only living 
 being in the place, appeared to be a solitary 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 203 
 
 fisherman, who makes his abode in a miserable 
 hut by the side of the lake. He is the picture 
 of Charon, and looks withered and blackened by 
 solitude. 
 
 His dwelling, which was built of rough stones 
 piled one on the other, boasted neither window 
 nor chimney. The light entered by an aperture 
 in the wall turned from the prevailing wind, and 
 the smoke escaped, or not, as it liked best, by a 
 hole in the roof, made for its convenience ; and 
 yet " canopies of costly state" would not perhaps 
 have rendered our fisherman a happier man. 
 He had a dry and caustic humour about him, 
 which might spring from the concentration of 
 his own thoughts in his loneliness ; and, of the 
 economy of human life, he had at least acquired 
 so much knowledge, as to cheat his fellow crea- 
 tures with as little remorse as he hooked a 
 trout. 
 
204 
 
 ST. SAUVEUR. 
 
 Intorno a queste fonti siedon sempre 
 Bei damegelli e candide donzelle 
 Tenere e fresche e di leggiadro aspetto 
 Che invitan tutti a ber quell' acque dolce. 
 
 Tressixo. L'Italia liberata da Goti. 
 
 Rumour, that winged demon, whose business 
 and pleasure it is to torment man, like a gnat 
 that comes just when he is enjoying his morn- 
 ing's sleep, and, buzzing for ever about him, 
 sings its indistinct song in his ears, till he has 
 neither rest nor peace — came tormenting us at 
 Cauterets, with the news of St. Sauveur being 
 so full that if we did not put horses to the car- 
 riage, and set out without delay, we should find 
 ourselves worse off, in point of lodging, than 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 205 
 
 even where we were, although my friend was 
 obliged to go into his room sideways, for fear of 
 knocking down some of the utensils, and I might 
 have just as well been in an oven, for I was pre- 
 cisely above the kitchen fire. 
 
 I have just been bleeding one of my candles. 
 The wax had gained so much upon the wick, 
 that it was ready to die of repletion, till, 
 making an incision with the point of the snuf- 
 fers, I let out a sufficient quantity to relieve it, 
 and the flame burnt up brighter than before. I 
 cannot help thinking that man is like a candle. 
 The cold part is his body, the melted spermaceti 
 is his blood, the wick is his brain, and the flame, 
 though chemists prove it to be only the combus- 
 tion of gas, produces light and heat, of which we 
 know nothing, any more than of the spirit. 
 
 So we set off* from Cauterets as hard as we 
 could drive ; but before we got tp Pierrefitte my 
 friend's strength failed him, and we were obliged 
 to stop at that town for the night. 
 
 From Gavarnie to Lourdes may be considered 
 as forming but one valley, — sometimes, indeed, 
 contracting into narrow passes, sometimes open- 
 
206 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 ing into wide basins, but always marked, or 
 rather connected, by the river, which, entering 
 at the Cascade of Gavarnie, flows on in nearly a 
 direct line to Lourdes. 
 
 At Pierrefitte, the valley contracts to a deep 
 gorge, like that which leads to Cauterets, but 
 the scenery round bears a softer character. The 
 defile is much narrower, the hills more green 
 and smiling, and though, perhaps, the v/hole 
 may be more beautiful, it appears to want 
 grandeur, after having seen Cauterets. For 
 some way the road winds round the project- 
 ing bases of the hills, till at length it opens 
 upon the beautiful valley of Luz, presenting a 
 rich scene, not unlike the basin of Argeles. 
 Here, also, scattered villages and ruined castles 
 are the first things that present themselves, and 
 shortly after appears the town of Luz, in the 
 lower part of the valley, and St. Sauveur on an 
 eminence to the right. The latter is a beautiful 
 little place, consisting of nineteen or twenty 
 houses, nested in a woody part of the mountain, 
 and looking far over the scene of loveliness 
 around. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 207 
 
 We arrived just in time to be too late; the 
 lodgings which we expected to find vacant had 
 been taken by some one else ; and we were ob- 
 liged to put up much in the same way that we 
 had done at Cauterets ; but the place was so 
 beautiful, so smihng, so cheerful in itself, that we 
 could not be out of humour with anything in it. 
 
 Madame de Gontaut Biron, one of the most 
 amiable beings I ever met, has made St. 
 Sauveur her favourite summer abode, and has 
 taken pains to display its beauties to the greatest 
 advantage. She has planned and carried into 
 execution many of the principal embellishments 
 of the place ; and Madame de Gontaut's bridge, 
 and Madame de Gontaut's seat, and Madame 
 de Gontaut's walks, are always the most beauti- 
 ful that can be found. Her rank and her for- 
 tune gave her the means of making herself re- 
 spected, but she has used them to a better pur- 
 pose, and made herself loved. She combines all 
 the high ton, the uncommunicable ease and 
 elegance of a woman to whom courts have ever 
 been familiar, with a degree of originality and 
 bonhomie which takes off from the flatness of 
 
208 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 great polish. She knows every poor person in 
 the village, and if they are sick or in distress it 
 is to Madame de Gontaut that they fly for as- 
 sistance. She relieves their wants, she pro- 
 motes their happiness, she looks upon them as 
 her children, and they almost worship her. Hers 
 is not alone that sort of general charity, which 
 gives but for the sake of giving, without know- 
 ledge of the object or interest in the distress : 
 she discriminates in her bounty, and doubles it 
 by the manner in which it is done ; for her 
 words are as kind as her actions. I have met 
 her often going down to the Springs, leaning on 
 the arm of one of the common porters of the 
 place, asking after his family, inquiring into his 
 aiFairs, and advising him in their regulation, 
 with as much kindness as if he had been her son. 
 
 There is all the difference in the world be- 
 tween the benevolence which cheers and raises 
 its object and the charity which humiliates. 
 
 A custom exists at St. Sauveur of bowing to 
 every lady one meets in the street. Now, as the 
 whole town is not two hundred yards long, and 
 it is crammed as full as it can hold, one may 
 
THE DESULTORY MAX. 209 
 
 calculate fairly upon having to pull off one's hat 
 at least a hundred times whenever a necessity- 
 exists of walking from one end to the other on 
 a sun-shiny morning. God knows, I did not 
 grudge it them, but it ought to be put into the 
 list of expenses. My companion did much bet- 
 ter, for he walked about the town with his hat 
 under his arm, which did just as well. 
 
210 
 
 BAREGES. 
 
 Quis tumidum guttur miratur in alpibusl 
 
 Juvenal. 
 
 It is an extraordinary fact, that between the 
 Valley d'Ossau and the Valley de Bareges an 
 entire change takes place in the population. I 
 never saw a handsomer race than the people at 
 the Eaux Bonnes, and the Eaux Chaudes. At 
 Cauterets beauty had forsaken the fair sex : the 
 men were well-formed and good-looking, but the 
 women quite the reverse ; and at St Sauveur, 
 Luz, and Bareges, men, women, and children 
 were all ugly together. A few days after our 
 arrival at St. Sauveur we went over to Bareges, 
 which is but at a little distance, and on our road 
 met all the goblin shapes of fairy tales com- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 211 
 
 pletely realized, and a great many more far too 
 disgusting for description. 
 
 In this neighbourhood there are a great many 
 people afflicted with the goitre. Nor had I any 
 idea of its effects till I sav/ it here. This mon- 
 strous appendage to each side of the neck is hor- 
 rid in itself, but those afflicted with it to any 
 great degree, lose entirely the hue of health, 
 become squalid and emaciated, and very fre- 
 quently end in idiocy. There is no describing 
 their appearance ; and one can scarcely wonder 
 at the treatment the ignorant mountaineers used 
 to show them of old, considering them cursed of 
 God, and driving them from all human intercourse. 
 
 The Cretins, or idiots, are also very common 
 in the Pyrenees, and a large village near Bag- 
 neres de Begorre is almost entirely peopled with 
 them. But these wretched beings are not at all 
 held in the same degree of hoVror as the Caghots, 
 or goitrous, who for many centuries were sup- 
 posed, even by the physicians of the towns adja- 
 cent to the Pyrenees, to be the descendants of 
 persons afflicted with the leprosy of the Greeks. 
 It appears, however, to be now ascertained, that. 
 
212 THE DESULTORY MAN, 
 
 this disease proceeds from something suspended 
 in the water of mountainous countries, which, 
 being taken into the system, produces these ob- 
 structions of the glands. Knowing very little 
 either of medicine or chemistry, my inquiries of 
 course were limited ; but from what I have been 
 able to learn, the malady is confined to particu- 
 lar districts, both in the Alps and Pyrenees, 
 while others in the vicinity are quite free from 
 it. In Derbyshire the same disease is common, 
 while in the mountains of Scotland and Wales 
 I believe it is little known. An analytical com- 
 parison of the water of the districts in which 
 this malady prevails might throw great light 
 upon the subject, and be of much service to 
 a portion of mankind, who, though happily not 
 very numerous, are well worthy of compassion 
 on account of their sufferings. 
 
 The road to Bareges is not particularly beau- 
 tiful, and the town itself is hideous. Two rows of 
 ill-built houses, forced into a narrow space be- 
 tween the river and the mountain, crammed full 
 of the sick and the maimed, is what Bareges ap- 
 pears at first sight. Its mineral springs are the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 213 
 
 strongest in the Pyrenees, and famous for the 
 cure of gun-shot wounds. There is a large hos- 
 pital for soldiers, who saunter up and down the 
 single street, in which scarcely a whole man is 
 to be met with at once ; and yet Bareges is the 
 gayest place in the country ; there are nothing 
 but balls and parties every night. In short, it is 
 a great dancing hospital, in which all the world 
 caper on in the best way they can with such 
 limbs as they have got left. 
 
 Such is Bareges in the summer ; in the winter 
 every one quits it, except a few shepherds and a 
 few bears, who take possession of the empty 
 houses while the snow lasts. Everything at Ba- 
 reges is made to be carried away — shutters, 
 doors, windows, and even staircases, so that 
 nothing but the skeleton of a town is left when 
 once the migration begins. Two things render 
 it nearly uninhabitable after October — the tre- 
 mendous overflowings of the river and the ava- 
 lanches, called here lavanges, which frequently 
 destroy great part of the town. It is not alone 
 that they overwhelm all that they approach, but 
 as they come everything trembles and falls before 
 
214 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 they touch it, without it be of the most sohd 
 construction. Such is the report of the country 
 people, who, in their figurative language, say 
 that all nature fears the lavange ; but any effect 
 of the kind must proceed from the pressure of 
 the air by the rapid progress of such an immense 
 mass. Many efforts have been made to guard 
 Bareges from this calamity by means of planting 
 trees on the heights ; but, as seldom a year 
 passes without its occurrence, the young trees 
 can afford no obstacle to the avalanche. 
 
•215 
 
 GAVARNIE. 
 
 Alps frown on alps, or rushing hideous down. 
 
 As if old Chaos was again returned. 
 
 Wide rend the deep and shake the solid pole. 
 
 Thomso.'' 
 
 Is returning to St. Sauveur, we saw the moun- 
 tains, in whose breast it rests, as they ought to 
 be seen to know them in their greatest magnifi- 
 cence. It was about half-past two, and the sun 
 shone in such a manner as to cast a kind of blue 
 airy indistinctness over the whole, hiding all the 
 minuter parts, and leaving them in grand dark 
 masses, marked decidedly upon the bright sun- 
 shiny sky. Although we had risen considerably 
 from Luz, the sun was already hidden by the 
 mountains to the south-west, and all the valley 
 
216 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 was in shadow. As I have before remarked, 
 when the hills are seen covered with fields half 
 way to the top, scattered all over with trees, or 
 broken into separate masses of rock, the multi- 
 tude of objects prevents the eye from estimating 
 their height justly ; but it is when they are thus 
 thrown together, in one uniformity of shade, that 
 they appear in their true grandeur. 
 
 But as I have got upon my hands a long jour- 
 ney to the most splendid of nature's works, 
 I must proceed on my way as quickly as pos- 
 sible. It would be tedious to describe the 
 journey from St. Sauveur to Gedre, as it is little 
 better than a repetition of that from Pierrefitte to 
 Luz on a smaller scale. The passes are nar- 
 rower, the basins more circumscribed, and the 
 mountains rise higher and more perpendicularly 
 on each side. The road, which soon becomes 
 unfit for a carriage, sometimes sinks to a level 
 with the Gave, and sometimes rises high on 
 the sides of the mountain ; and as my horse had 
 a talent for stumbling, together with a peculiar 
 predilection for the edge of the precipice, the in- 
 surance upon my neck would have been some- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 217 
 
 what hazardous. Of course during a twelve 
 miles' ride through that part of the country, we 
 found a great many spots of peculiar beauty, 
 but if I were to tell all I saw, I should never 
 have done with the long stories of lovely hamlets 
 nested in the wood that overhangs the stream, 
 and marble bridges that carry the road across it, 
 and rugged mountain heads that hide it from 
 the sun. 
 
 At Gedre there is a famous grotto which every 
 one talks about a great deal more than it de- 
 serves. A deep cleft in the rock overhung with 
 wood, admits the Gave de Heas to the valley, 
 where it joins the other river. There is a great 
 degree of soft quiet and stillness in the souiui of 
 the waterfall, and the deep shade of the •, jo( i 
 hanging down and dipping its branches; In the 
 clear pools formed at the foot of the rock. The 
 whole, is certainly very beautiful, but not merit- 
 ing the extravagant praises which have been be- 
 stowed upon it. 
 
 At this village, Gedre, is the last general 
 bureau of the French douanes, and here we 
 were obliged to take out a kind of passport for 
 
 VOL. III. L 
 
218 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 our horses, that they might be allowed to re- 
 turn. Here also I engaged a guide, named 
 Rondo, to conduct me the next morning to the 
 Breche de Roland : and we then proceeded on 
 our way, skirting along the foot of Mount 
 Coumelie, till we arrived at a spot called the 
 Chaos or Payrada, which seems as if a moun- 
 tain had been violently overthrown, and strewed 
 the valley with its enormous ruins. Blocks of 
 granite containing from ten to a hundred thou- 
 sand cubic feet, scattered at large, or piled one 
 upon another, fill up a space of nearly half a 
 mile. No tree, no vegetation is to be seen ; all 
 is death, and desolation, and silence, except 
 where the Gave rushes angrily through the 
 rocks, and seems to hasten its progress to 
 escape from such a wilderness of destruction. 
 
 About a mile more brought us to the village 
 of Gavarnie, wildly situated in the midst of 
 flowers, and snows, soft fields, and tremendous 
 mountains. 
 
219 
 
 THE CASCADE OF GAVARNIE. 
 
 Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum. 
 
 HoRAT. Epist. 
 
 The village of Gavarnie once belonged to the 
 order of the Temple, and we were shown the 
 little church, said to have been erected by those 
 military monks. There is nothing peculiar in 
 the building, and the only thing which pretends 
 to interest, is a collection of skulls, said to be 
 those of eight knights who were beheaded on 
 the little green, at the time of the barbarous ex- 
 termination of their order. I believe, that as 
 far as any truth goes, they might just as well 
 call them the heads of eight Roman emperors. 
 But it is no great matter — could every Templar 
 
 l2 
 
220 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 come back and swear to his own, they would be 
 the only persons concerned after all ; and till 
 that can be the case, one head does quite as well 
 as another. 
 
 After visiting the church, we followed the 
 course of the river towards the famous Cirque 
 de Gavarnie. On setting out from the village, 
 it seemed as if we could touch it ; but it fled 
 before us, and shortly a thick cloud came over it 
 like a veil. We walked on, however, crossing 
 several large basins, which had formerly been 
 filled with water, and arrived at last in the 
 midst of that gigantic amphitheatre, to which 
 all other of nature's works appear but faint 
 essays of her power. The whole was at first 
 filled with the cloud, and we could scarcely dis- 
 tinguish any of the objects around ; but gradually 
 the vapour rose and passed away, and we found 
 ourselves standing in the midst of a semi-circle 
 of black marble, rising abruptly fourteen hundred 
 feet in height, round an area of nearly a league. 
 There is no describing it ; the soul is lost in the 
 vastness that it contemplates, and it is long be- 
 fore the eye can comprehend the grandeur of 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 221 
 
 the objects before it. High above the amphi- 
 theatre lies the mountain, pile upon pile, to 
 the very sky, like gigantic steps carpeted with 
 snow. Nine or ten small streams are con- 
 tinually pouring over the edge of the preci- 
 pice, and tracing a long white line upon its 
 dark surface; but a river far more consider- 
 able than the rest, shoots over the eastern side 
 of the amphitheatre, from a height of twelve hun- 
 dred and sixty feet, forming the famous cascade 
 of Gavarnie. 
 
 There was still a line of heavy cloud drawn 
 across the very summit of the fall, and below, 
 it separated into dense thick mist, while the 
 stream itself continued for ever pouring silently 
 on between the two, like time between two in- 
 distinct eternities. At the same time, the sun 
 had long, long sunk to us, and the world below 
 was all in shadow, while far above the cloud, 
 glittering in a kind of golden splendour, rose 
 the icy summits of a far higher mountain, beam- 
 ing with an airy unearthly light, like the faint 
 glimpse of some more brilliant world, 
 
222 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Description can do nothing for it, imagination 
 can do little. It must be seen and felt. 
 
 Although such towering heights still re- 
 mained above us, we had already risen so far, 
 that we found the snows lying at the foot of 
 the amphitheatre, and were told that they never 
 melt. After falling from the height, the river 
 collects in a small basin below, and forcing its 
 passage under the snow, forms the famous Pont 
 de Neige * of Gavarnie. 
 
 Far above the Cirque de Gavarnie, and the 
 snows and the ices which hang upon its edge, 
 appears another perpendicular wall of rock, run- 
 ning along nearly from east to west, and form- 
 ing a barrier between France and Spain ; and 
 nearly in the centre of this, appears a deep 
 cleft like an embrasure — the famous Brcche de 
 Roland. For here it is said, that the Paladin 
 Orlando, or Roland, as he is called in France, 
 pursuing the army of the Moors, cleft the rock 
 of three hundred feet in height, with one blow 
 of his enchanted sword, and opened a passage 
 
 * Bridsre of Snow. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 223 
 
 into Spain. The story goes on to say, that 
 Orlando was on horseback. 
 
 I looked in vain to see the footpath that was 
 to conduct me the next day to the breach. I 
 could discover nothing but one perpendicular 
 precipice, and returned to Gavarnie, puzzling 
 myself how it was to be accomphshed. 
 
224 
 
 THE BRECHE DE ROLAND. 
 
 E'en now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, 
 I sit me clown a pensive hour t6 spend. 
 And placed on high ahove the storm's career, 
 Look downward where a hundred realms appear. 
 Lakes, forests, cities, plains extended wide. 
 The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. 
 Goldsmith. — The Traveller. 
 
 While we were at dinner, my musical-named 
 guide, Rondo, arrived from Gedre, and came in 
 to speak to me, walking with the peculiar 
 bounding step of mountaineers. A picturesque 
 figure he was too, with his spear-headed pole, 
 conical cap, cow-skin sandals, and an elegant 
 bissack of netted cotton, which hung under his 
 left arm. He was a small, slightly made moun- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 2*25 
 
 taineer, with pale dark complexion, bright black 
 eyes, and a countenance lit up with calm intel- 
 ligence. He told us so many stories of acci- 
 dents from storms in attempting to reach the 
 Breche, that my companion, whose health ut- 
 terly prevented him from ascending, became 
 alarmed on my account, and begged me not to 
 go unless the day should prove perfectly clear. 
 
 At half-past three the next morning. Rondo 
 called me ; and having dressed myself as warmly 
 as possible, I went down stairs in the dark. The 
 stairs led immediately into the middle of the 
 kitchen, on the floor of which were stretched 
 the beds of half a dozen families belonging to 
 the inn. There were mine host and hostess, her 
 sister and her sister's husband, and two or three 
 cousins and their partners, on either side ; quite 
 patriarchal. I don't know whether this pro- 
 ceeded from the inn being very full, or whether 
 it was usual, but so it was, that in the obscurity 
 I tripped at the first matrass, and tumbled head 
 foremost between a young lady and her husband, 
 causing a sudden and violent separation, and 
 certainly putting asunder those whom the church 
 
 L 5 
 
226 THE DESULTORY 3IAN. 
 
 had joined together. The young lady started up, 
 and I believe at first, as there was no seeing in 
 the matter, took me for her husband, so that her 
 first address was rather more tender than it 
 otherwise would have been, but at that moment 
 Rondo came in with a light, sans ceremorde, 
 and enabled me to extricate myself from my 
 very doubtful situation. 
 
 We now provided ourselves with the neces- 
 sary implements for our journey : spear-headed 
 poles, crampons for our feet, a bottle of brandy, 
 and some cold meat, and setting out from Ga- 
 vamie, soon arrived at the foot of the Tours de 
 Marboree. The morning was foggy, and by 
 this time it had began to drizzle ; Rondo shook 
 his head at the weather, saying that we should 
 have a storm ; so we sat down among the flowers, 
 with which the whole place was carpeted, and 
 held a council of war. 
 
 The mountaineers always use the most figu- 
 rative language, and my guide explained to me 
 his apprehensions, saying, that when the French 
 mist meets the Spanish mist on the top of the 
 mountain, they fight for the breach with thunder 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 2*27 
 
 and with hail ; that there had been threatening 
 of war in the sky for many days, but that now it 
 menaced more than ever ; and that if the storm 
 came when we were amidst the glaciers, where 
 there was no shelter, death would be our por- 
 tion : for that was a country, he said, where 
 there was no good God. 
 
 However, never liking to give up what I have 
 once undertaken without succeeding, and as it 
 appeared that if the storm overtook us before we 
 reached the ice, we could find some place of re- 
 fuge from the hail, which was the most danger- 
 ous enemy we had to encounter, I determined 
 to go on, at least as far as the snow, and then 
 let our further progress be determined by the 
 weather. 
 
 Our first effort was to pass a hill composed 
 of loose fragments of stone, which gave way at 
 evefy step. This conducted us to the foot of 
 the precipice, on the west side, where we paused, 
 under a shelving rock, till the rain had some- 
 what abated. Thence we went a little way 
 round the base, and found the path, if path it 
 could be called, for it was nothing but a narrow 
 
228 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 irregular break in the rock, almost as perpen- 
 dicular as the rock itself, and only more prac- 
 ticable on account of the steps formed in it by 
 the broken layers of stone. 
 
 We soon passed this, and then walking along 
 a narrow ledge formed in the precipice, we 
 came to another natural stair of the same 
 kind, which conducted us to the height of four 
 or five hundred feet, where we scared two 
 eagles (or I rather believe vultures) from the 
 rock, which continued screaming and wheeling 
 round our heads during great part of the as- 
 cent; and doubtless we had their best wishes 
 for our speedy passage to the bottom. 
 
 Turning then in a degree away from the 
 Marboree, we came to a piece of turf slanting 
 in an extreme angle, and so slippy with the 
 rain, that we could scarcely keep our feet. We 
 passed then again to the east, and once more, to 
 my great satisfaction, began climbing the firm 
 rock ; but this did not last, and we had to change 
 several times from rock to turf, before I found 
 myself at the summit of the amphitheatre, on a 
 level with the top of the cascade, which, as the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 229 
 
 clouds began to clear away, I could plainly 
 perceive projected violently over the edge of 
 the opposite precipice, losing itself in mist be- 
 low. 
 
 It is seldom that one has an opportunity of 
 looking down a perpendicular height of fourteen 
 hundred feet : and I stood enjoying the sensa- 
 tion for much longer than I believe my guide 
 judged a projjos, for he seemed scarcely to know 
 whether he ought to let me stand there or not. 
 The tinkling of the sheep-bell, and a loud bark- 
 ing, two sounds I little expected to hear there, 
 roused me from my dreaming, and conducted 
 us towards the flock of a Spanish shepherd, 
 which was wandering at large under the care of 
 two enormous dogs, who now appeared mounted 
 on the projecting rocks that flanked their charge, 
 baying loudly at our approach. 
 
 No shepherd was with the flock, but we soon 
 discovered his abode by a large iron pot of milk 
 that stood at the entrance. He had chosen the 
 little hollow under a shelf of the rock, and 
 fenced it in with a wall of loose stones which 
 rose breast-high, forming a dwelling of about 
 
•230 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 seven feet by four. I went up to the little wall 
 and looked over upon the shepherd, who lay ex- 
 tended on his cloak reading. I asked him what 
 he was about, and looking up without the least 
 appearance of surprise, he answered that he was 
 studying. I demanded what was the subject of 
 his study, to which he replied by stretching out 
 his arm towards me, with a dirty dog's-eared 
 book of Spanish letters on geography. It is 
 probable that the conversation might have lasted 
 for some time in the same manner, he lying 
 on his back, and I looking over the wall, had 
 not Rondo come up, and desired him to give us 
 some milk. The call on his hospitality instantly 
 roused him, and he sprang upon his feet, one 
 of the most picturesque figures I ever beheld. 
 
 He was a youth of sixteen or seventeen, of 
 very perfect, though almost gigantic propor- 
 tions. Before he came out of his den, he placed 
 his large broad-brimmed hat on his head, which 
 gave a sort of bandit expression to his full dark 
 eyes and sunburnt countenance. He wore two 
 double-breasted Spanish jackets, covered with 
 hanging buttons. His feet were shod with the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 231 
 
 sort of mountain sandal called espardin, and in 
 a crimson sash round his waist, he wore a sharp- 
 pointed knife, nearly two feet long, which though 
 only used for the sim.ple purpose of cutting his 
 bread, might have served very well on more 
 murderous occasions. In short, he was a most 
 romantic sort of gentleman in appearance ; but 
 he speedily lighted a fire, boiled us a large por- 
 tion of his milk, and pressed us to his simple 
 treat, with a cheerfulness and frankness smack- 
 ing of ancient days. He joined with us too in 
 conversation ; told us that it was nearly a month 
 since he had seen a human creature, and then it 
 was his father, who had brought him six loaves 
 of the black bread he set before us. 
 
 The shepherd seemed anxious to know what 
 brought us to the Breche de Roland ; and when 
 I told him, in the best Spanish I could muster, 
 that it was but simple curiosity, he shook his 
 head with a smile. I asked him why he did so, 
 doubting whether he understood me; but he 
 answered, that he could not imagine any one 
 coming to such a place unless it were to feed 
 sheep. 
 
232 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 One thing, however, he told us, which set our 
 minds perfectly at ease with respect to the safety 
 of our further progress. He assured us that 
 there were no clouds on the other side of the 
 breach, and that there would be no storm that 
 day. My guide seemed to place perfect confi- 
 dence in his judgment, and with this prognostic 
 we again set out. 
 
 After about half an hour's more climbing, the 
 clouds entirely cleared away, the wind blew 
 strongly, the sun shone glittering on the snow 
 before us, and all announced as fine a day as we 
 could have desired. The mountain was all shin- 
 ing as if strewed with diamonds, for the last 
 drops of rain were crowded upon every blade of 
 grass, and nested in the bosom of every flower. 
 Nature, as if to mock the snows, had covered 
 the whole turf to their very edge with blossoms, 
 and the rich blue iris, and a very delicate white 
 flower I had never seen before, were actually 
 growing within the verge of the region of frost. 
 As most of these had already past in the valleys, 
 I gathered as many as I could for Madame de 
 Gontaut ; and then having fixed our cram- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 233 
 
 potis^ which were but clumsy, we proceeded to 
 climb the ice. 
 
 To the east was an immense glacier stretch- 
 ing over the highest part of the Marboree. 
 It was of deep blue ice, and I could distinguish 
 layer above layer, resting nearly vertically, 
 which prevented all approach on that side. 
 Stretching east and west, was the rocky wall, 
 which forms the highest crest of the Pyrenees, 
 and due south, cleft through as with a sword, 
 the Breche de Roland ; but between us and it 
 lay another glacier, at an inclination of about 
 sixty degrees, which made the direct ascent im- 
 practicable. To the westward, however, was a 
 large tract of soft snow, by which we were en- 
 abled to make our way to the side of the latter 
 glacier, and cross instead of attempting to climb it. 
 We proceeded very well up the snow, for about 
 a quarter of an hour, at the end of which time 
 we came to ice covered with drift, and rendered 
 unsound by the percolation of a stream. 
 
 Here the crampon on my left foot turned 
 round, by the strap coming undone, and my foot 
 gave way, but I was still firmly fixed by my 
 
234 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 climbing-pole and my right foot. However, 
 Rondo, who was about twenty yards distant, 
 was alarmed and ran to my assistance, when 
 both his feet slipped and he went flying like 
 lightning towards the edge of the precipice. 
 I could do nothing to save him : when sud- 
 denly, after having gone about two hundred 
 yards, he struck his pole into the deep ice, 
 and having regained his feet, returned to me as 
 quietly as if nothing had happened. 
 
 We now began to cross the glacier trans- 
 versely, cutting steps with a hatchet, and after 
 passing more than one deep chasm from six 
 inches to two feet in breadth, we arrived at the 
 crest of the mountain, so that I could stretch 
 out my hand and touch it. Between France 
 and Spain this natural barrier rises perpendicu- 
 larly from the ice, and is said to be from three 
 to six hundred feet in height. 
 
 It has an extraordinary effect to stand upon 
 those immense masses of ice, and feel the vi- 
 vid rays of the summer sun. The rarefaction 
 of the air did not at all affect my breathing, 
 but the humidity had become so condensed un- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN". 235 
 
 der the glass of my pocket-compass, that I could 
 scarcely ascertain the direction of the various 
 objects. Retracing in a degree our steps, we 
 now without further difficulty reached the Breche 
 de Roland ; and here, for the first time, I turned 
 round to contemplate the scene below. 
 
 Mountain beyond mountain, valley leading 
 into valley, stream flowing into stream, till the 
 fading distance and the boundless sky did not 
 meet, but blended in each other. On one side, 
 were the whole mountains of Beam, on the 
 other, the whole mountains of Aragon, far, and 
 clear, and blue. It seemed as if a giant ocean 
 of enormous waves had suddenly been frozen, 
 and that I stood upon their highest pinnacle. 
 
 The icy barrier around appeared to cut us 
 off from all nature. It was perfect solitude ; 
 there was not a flower, there was not a living 
 creature ; the very eagles we had left below : 
 there was not a sound but that of the lonely 
 wind whistling shrilly through the chasm in the 
 mountain. Where we stood, we seemed far 
 above creation, and at our feet lay all the vast 
 
•236 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 and varied world, nor had I ever fancied that 
 world so grand. 
 
 How magnificent are all thy works, great God 
 of Nature ! 
 
•237 
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 In cbming from the mountain, while I was yet 
 far above the surface of the vulgar earth, I 
 saw my friend standing, watching my descent, 
 upon one of the hills of shingle which lie at the 
 bottom of Gavarnie, and I hastened on to meet 
 him. There was some degree of agitation in 
 his manner as we met, and as he grasped my 
 hand, Jie said, " Do you know. Young, some- 
 thing very extraordinary has happened to m,e 
 since you have been gone." 
 
 " vSomething extraordinary it must have been 
 indeed," I replied, " to stir you from your calm 
 placidity. But, tell me, what is it ?" 
 
238 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 " Extraordinary indeed," he replied ; " but 
 come on towards the inn. Do you know, I have 
 seen the same appearance which has so long 
 tormented you — I have seen again that terrible 
 countenance which will never quit the memory 
 of either of us ! " 
 
 " Good God ! is it possible ?" I exclaimed ; 
 " then it is no delusion !" 
 
 " It is certainly the most extraordinary thing 
 in the world," he replied ; and then proceeded 
 to inform me, that as he was coming down to 
 breakfast, while looking along the dark passages 
 at the top of the stairs, that fearful countenance 
 had glared upon him for a moment in terrible 
 distinctness. With prompt presence of mind he 
 had instantly rushed towards it, but found no- 
 thing but the long corridors and empty rooms 
 of the inn. On our return we called for the 
 book of travellers' names ; but our own were the 
 only English names that it contained ; and not 
 a little agitated, we mounted our horses and re- 
 turned to St. Sauveur. 
 
 Without pausing any longer there than was 
 merely necessary to pack the carriage, we set 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 239 
 
 out for Bagneres de Bigorre, and thence pro- 
 ceeded towards Tarbes. More than once we 
 canvassed the extraordinary circumstance that 
 had occurred; and notwithstanding all our 
 efforts to be philosophical, it is in vain to deny 
 that I at least felt a greater degree of super- 
 stitious awe in regard to the object which had 
 so often tortured me, than ever I had done 
 before. Previously I had looked upon it as 
 a delusion, originating in a partial derange- 
 ment of my own brain ; but now that my friend 
 had seen it also, it acquired the importance of 
 a terrible reality. Every hour it weighed more 
 and more upon my mind, and I saw that 
 
 B was sorry that on the impulse of the 
 
 moment he had communicated to me the fact 
 of his having vvitnessed the same strange oc- 
 currence. 
 
 As we had set out somewhat late from 
 Bagneres, however, the shadows were coming 
 over the mountains long before we reached 
 Tarbes, and as my friend B was rather in- 
 disposed, we determined, if the little town of 
 St Martin afforded a good inn, to halt there 
 
240 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 for the night. Our postihon informed us that 
 the inn was " admirable" and driving up to the 
 door we saw a crowd round it sufficient to show- 
 that it was well frequented. 
 
 There were, amongst others, five or six gend- 
 armes on horseback surrounding a little cart, 
 in which appeared a man loaded with irons, 
 with another police soldier beside him. What 
 w^as my surprise, however, on beholding, when 
 the cart turned to drive off, no other than my 
 former servant Essex, in the person of the ap- 
 parent criminal. The man evidently saw me, 
 and turned away his head; and as I had but 
 slight grounds to love his acquaintance, I took 
 no farther notice merely thinking, " The rascal 
 seems likely at length to meet his deserts." 
 
 As B stepped out of the carriage, how- 
 ever, and walked into the inn, the landlord 
 asked him if Monsieur had come to see the 
 body of the gentleman who had been murdered. 
 He replied, by asking what gentleman; and, 
 while the host answered that there was then 
 lying in his front-room the body of a gentle- 
 man who had been murdered by his own ser- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 241 
 
 vant as he was coming from a chateau in the 
 neighbourhood, where he had been to pay a 
 
 visit, B walked on to the door where, from 
 
 the number of people, and the appearance of 
 one or two gendarmes, it seemed the corpse 
 lay for inspection. 
 
 The crowd made room for him to pass, and I 
 was following, but he suddenly drew back and 
 grasped my arm, exclaiming, " Good God ! 
 Young, do not come in here — and yet do ! It 
 is Wild !" 
 
 " Wild !" exclaimed I, rushing in ; "what do 
 you mean ?" But there needed no farther ques- 
 tion. There, on the deal board, which usually 
 served the little auherge for a public table, lay 
 stretched the body of my enemy Alfred Wild, 
 at least if mortal eyes might be trusted. My 
 hand, it is true, had stretched him on the earth, 
 my eyes had witnessed the convulsive agony of 
 death, the surgeon had pronounced him to be 
 dead, and the newspapers had announced his 
 death ; yet there he lay, or some one so like 
 him, that his own father would not have known 
 the difference. 
 
 VOL. III. M 
 
242 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 " Do you recognise the body, sir ?" demanded 
 one of the gendarmes, seeing me gazing upon 
 it with feelings which no pen can describe, so 
 mingled were they of hope and relief, and horror 
 and surprise. " Do you recognise the body ? for 
 in all the letters and papers which have been 
 found upon him he is called by one name which 
 I do not choose to mention at present, while 
 that in his passport is Monsieur Auguste de 
 Vallen9ay." 
 
 " I think I do recognise the body," I replied ; 
 " and if it be the same his name is not Val- 
 len^ay, but Alfred Wild." 
 
 " Precisement !" replied the gendarme ; " that 
 is the name on several letters which were found 
 in his pockets. But we are going to send to the 
 gentleman at the chateau, whom some people 
 believe to be his father." 
 
 " Come away. Young," cried my friend ; " this 
 will be, at all events, a relief to your mind, and 
 I trust may be but one step to your happiness. 
 Come away ; perhaps I had better go, before the 
 horses are taken off, and break this event to 
 the unhappy man's father." 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 243 
 
 " No !" I answered ; " No ; you are unwell 
 yourself: I will go, and perhaps the task, pain- 
 ful as it is, may be some atonement for what I 
 inflicted on the old man before." 
 
 B made some opposition, but I would 
 
 yield to none ; and getting into the carriage, 
 begged the people round to direct the postilion 
 to the chateau they had mentioned. The man 
 knew it well, and in about three-quarters of an 
 hour we were passing through a pair of old 
 grey stone gates. 
 
 It was now quite dark, and the man, half 
 peasant, half footman, who, after ringing five 
 or six times, made his appearance, admitted 
 me with somewhat surly scrutiny to a large 
 vestibule, in which was burning one small 
 ill-trimmed lamp. He then opened a door at 
 one side, and announced " The English gentle- 
 man,'' upon which a voice immediately ex- 
 claimed, " If he had not the impudence of the 
 devil, he would not show his face here again — 
 but I will soon settle that 1 Send him in !" 
 
 " Some mistake !" I thought, obeying the 
 words I had overheard, rather than the servant's 
 
 M 2 
 
244 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 half-muttered directions, and walked into a 
 large old-fashioned saloon, somewhat better 
 lighted than the hall. At the farther end was a 
 table covered with the materials for making tea, 
 and at the left-hand side sat two persons, on 
 whom my eyes were of course instantly fixed. 
 But before a vague sort of intuition could be- 
 come really perceptive, a cry of joy met my ear, 
 and in a moment Emily Somers, my own Emily, 
 was in my arms. " It is James, papa ! Oh, it 
 is our own dear James !" she eried, and the 
 happy tears flowed fast and long. 
 
 There was no mistaking the tone, the manner, 
 or the action. Emily at least was glad to see 
 me, and her father seemed so also, if I might 
 judge by the hearty and reiterated shake of the 
 hand which he now gave me. But how all this 
 had come about remained to be explained, and 
 it was but by confused and desultory fits and 
 starts that I gained an insight into what I am 
 now about to write down. 
 
 The first light which was thrown upon the 
 matter w^as by Mr. Somers himself, who when 
 he found that I had come thither accidentally, 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 245 
 
 supposing the tenants of the chateau to be very 
 different people, cut across Emily's delight at 
 seeing me, and withdrew her hand from mine. 
 
 " Stay, stay, Emily,'' he cried, " as Mr. 
 Young does not know what has occurred, it is 
 fit that he should be informed before he commits 
 himself by a word. Remember, my love, his 
 opinions may be altered as well as our for- 
 tunes." 
 
 " No, no, papa ! No, no I" replied Emily. 
 " For once, I will be bold and answer for him." 
 
 " But let me tell him at least," said Mr. 
 Somers. — " Soon after you left us for France, 
 Mr. Young, one or two of my speculations 
 were unsuccessful, and left me a loser of nearly 
 fifty thousand pounds ; but that was nothing, and 
 would never have been felt, had not, just after- 
 wards, the great house of Kinnerton and Baden- 
 ham,' in Calcutta, failed to an immense amount. 
 That was a shock to many a house, as well as 
 mine, and people began to draw largely upon 
 me; still I could have done very well if the 
 London house of the same name had held firm ; 
 but on .calling there, though they assured me 
 
246 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 of their perfect competence to meet all claims, 
 I saw cause to doubt. What could I do ? To 
 press them was to make them stop sooner, 
 without helping myself, and, to prepare against 
 the worst, I went to my old friend Samuel 
 Wild, who talked about supporting me with 
 half a million, if it were necessary ; but when 
 he came in the evening he made it a condition 
 that his son was to have my Emily. 
 
 " It was no time to trifle, and I told him all — 
 her engagement to you — and everything. But he 
 replied, that his son could prove that you did not 
 care anything about her, and a great deal more 
 which it is unnecessary to repeat. We held 
 out for long ; writing to you, and receiving no 
 answer, and seeing every now and then letters 
 from your servant Essex to young Wild's valet, 
 telling him a great many stories about you, 
 which we have found to be false, as we have 
 since passed through that part of the country 
 and seen many who knew you and did you 
 justice. 
 
 " However, the matter seemed plain enough 
 then. Difficulties increased ; the London house 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 247 
 
 of K and B failed; a regular run 
 
 was made upon our bank. Old Wild stood 
 firm, and would do nothing unless Emily 
 would consent. I saw nothing before me but 
 poverty and disgrace both for me and her, and 
 I do believe I almost went on my knees to my 
 own child to save us both. Well, sir, she did 
 consent, and immediately Mr. Wild paid in, in one 
 morning, three hundred thousand pounds. We 
 declared our intention of paying everything in 
 gold ; the credit of the house rose higher than 
 ever, when suddenly, who should come over but 
 yourself. Your letter first opened my eyes ; for, 
 by showing me that you had been ill and unable 
 to write for two months, and that your servant 
 had been playing the rascal with you, you proved 
 to me that I had been cheated also. Well, my 
 dear boy, I went away to old Wild, resolving, at 
 all fevents, to do you justice, let come what 
 would; and, producing your letter, I told him 
 that his son must make good his charges or 
 I should not suffer Emily to keep her engage- 
 ment. He then thought fit to bully, and told 
 me, that before six-and-thirty hours were over 
 
248 THE DESUI.TORY MAN. 
 
 he would close the doors of my bank. I feared 
 that he had the power to do so, but still he 
 could not take from me my honesty, and I left 
 him in the same determination. The first thing 
 was, if possible, to save my credit ; and I w ent 
 to several old friends, telling them the real 
 state of the case, that I could meet all, but 
 that it might require time. They promised to 
 meet the next morning, and thus the day was 
 spent without my seeing you. 
 
 " The next morning took place that unfortu- 
 nate duel, and my friends also met; but ere 
 they came to any decision, not only all that old 
 Wild had paid in was drawn out of the bank, 
 but every one with whom he had a word to say 
 came pouring in with draft upon draft There 
 was no stemming the current, and before noon 
 the bank stopped. You may conceive what a 
 state we were all in, and then came the news 
 that you had killed young Wild in a duel. Poor 
 Emily was more dead than alive ; and to make 
 matters worse, before nightfall there was an exe- 
 cution in the house. We went out of it the 
 next morning, and, to cut my story short, when 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 249 
 
 all the affairs were wound up, which did not 
 take a couple of months, all debts were paid off, 
 twenty shillings in the pound, and eight hun- 
 dred per annum clear was left for myself. So 
 I came out, my dear boy, triumphant ; but still 
 Emily begged me not to try it any more, but 
 let us live upon what we have. We determined 
 for a time to come to France. And now, James, 
 if you love poor Emily Somers, with little or 
 nothing, as well as you loved the heiress of the 
 rich banker, there she is, take her, and God's 
 blessing be upon you both." 
 
 J need not say what was my reply, but it was 
 soon made, and I now found that the letter 
 
 which my friend B had written for me to 
 
 Emily had never been received by her, the 
 house in Portland Place having been taken pos- 
 session of by Alfred Wild's father, who doubt- 
 less-had opened and returned it. My stay at 
 Worthing, and illness there, were known both 
 to Emily and her father; and Mr. Somers, 
 conceiving that I must have seen the wreck of 
 his affairs mentioned in the newspapers, had 
 himself requested my banker to tell me when he 
 
 M 5 
 
250 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 wrote that Emily and himself were as well as 
 could be expected, which had been done with 
 true commercial brevity. 
 
 Alfred Wild, in the meantime, had been car- 
 ried home to his father's house, but the report 
 had already spread that he was dead ; and from 
 the moment that his father saw him in the con- 
 dition in which he was brought home, the old 
 man never spoke for any other purpose than to 
 give orders for persecuting the family of Mr. 
 Somers. 
 
 Great loss of blood, however, and excessive 
 pain— for the ball had lodged in some very 
 sensitive part — had made Alfred Wild faint 
 upon the field at the moment he was about 
 to fire at me ; but he had suffered no mortal 
 wound; and though he had fainted and reco- 
 vered several times ere he reached his father's 
 house, yet before night he was sufficiently 
 recovered to know all that was passing round 
 him. Enmity towards myself and love for 
 Emily Somers were still the predominant pas- 
 sions of his heart ; and conceiving some vague 
 scheme of obtaining her and punishing me, lie 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 251 
 
 besought his father to give out the story of his 
 death. 
 
 He found the execution of the scheme more 
 easy than he imagined, for the report was in 
 all the newspapers that he had died on the spot 
 where he fell ; and his parsimonious father's only 
 objection arose from the expense of putting the 
 family in mourning and the trouble of conceal- 
 ment When he heard, however, what was the 
 object, and that revenge upon me and on the 
 family of his former friend was thus to be ob- 
 tained, a chord was struck in the old man's 
 bosom, the tone of which was not the less 
 powerful because it had seldom vibrated be- 
 fore. He declared that he would give a hun- 
 dred thousand pounds — he might have said his 
 heart's blood — to ruin me and the family of Mr. 
 Somers, and measures were instantly taken to 
 carry his son's design fully into effect. The 
 death was regularly inserted in the newspapers, 
 the whole house was shut up, the servants were 
 clothed in black, and those necessarily trusted 
 were bribed to secresy. 
 
 I am not even sure that a false funeral 
 
252 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 was not performed ; but, nevertheless, rumours 
 of something strange got about, even before 
 Mr. Somers quitted London. Had I remained 
 in England, I should most likely have dis- 
 covered the deceit; for Captain Truro had 
 positively declared in several circles that his 
 friend had not died immediately, as had been 
 at first supposed, but, on the contrary, had re- 
 vived once or twice in the carriage on their 
 way home. No coroner's inquest being reported 
 on the body, also caused doubt, and the gra- 
 tuitous announcement that the family did not 
 intend to prosecute did not silence rumour. 
 
 As soon as he could travel, it seems, Alfred 
 Wild, having re-engaged his confederate Essex 
 in the scheme against me, set out from London 
 for the purpose of following Emily, who, with 
 her father, had taken refuge in a beautiful spot 
 amongst the Pyrenees. 
 
 Whether it was with or without design — whe- 
 ther he had discovered the dreadful delusion 
 with which remorse tortured me, and followed 
 me with the fiendish purpose of confirming it — 
 or whether his pursuing the same course was 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 253 
 
 accidental — I cannot tell, but certain it is that 
 during the whole of my journey through France 
 he had been near me, and I cannot even now be 
 sure of which were the occasions when my 
 fancy deceived me, which those when I beheld 
 his real countenance. 
 
 Speaking French like a native, and having 
 assumed a French name, he passed unsus- 
 pected, and at length presented himself at 
 the chateau which had been hired by Mr. 
 Somers, in order to throw off his disguise and 
 pursue his claim to the hand of Emily. 
 
 Neither the worthy banker nor his daughter 
 were much surprised by his re-appearance, for, 
 as I have said before, they had already learned 
 to doubt the story of his death ; but though he 
 made his long constancy, the severe treatment 
 he had suffered, and the vehemence of his pas- 
 sio;i, all pleas for Emily's hand, she rejected 
 him still with cold abhorrence, and he left the 
 house in not the best mood of mind. He had 
 brought his servant Essex to the chateau with 
 him, to guide him, as the man had been pre- 
 viously sent forward from St. Sauveur to dis- 
 cover the house. 
 
254 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Master and servant, however, knew each 
 other to be base, and many a disgraceful dis- 
 pute had arisen between them already. As long 
 as Essex had his master in some degree in his 
 power, by possessing his secret, he knew that 
 he could wring as much money from Wild as he 
 wanted ; but as soon as ever he found, by his 
 master^s visit to Mr. Somers, that the whole 
 was to be divulged, he determined upon a 
 scheme for the purpose of, at one blow, taking 
 vengeance of Wild for some former oiFences, and 
 of enriching himself with the contents of a 
 pocket-book which he knew to be valuable. 
 The proximity of Spain was a great induce- 
 ment for executing, at once, a design he had 
 long meditated, for Essex was a citizen of the 
 world, and with a well-furnished purse could 
 make himself happy in any country. Thus, as 
 they returned on horseback from the chateau, a 
 few angry words from the master brought on a 
 few insolent ones from the servant. Albert 
 Wild, it seems, raust have turned to reply ; for 
 he was found not two minutes after, with the 
 wound of a pistol-ball, running from temple to 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 255 
 
 temple. Essex was instantly pursued and taken 
 by the gardes chasses, who came up at the 
 report of fire-arms, and being found with his 
 master's pocket-book and a lately-discharged 
 pistol, perceived that he had lost the stake for 
 which he had played, confessed all, and ended 
 his life upon the scaffold. 
 
 I have hurried on to the conclusion of the 
 history of Alfred Wild and his servant ; but of 
 course, when Emily and her father had given me 
 an account of all that had befallen them up to 
 the moment at which I had again found them 
 after so long an absence, I too had my tale to 
 tell. Though the first sketch was brief, yet the 
 after details were long in telling, for Emily 
 would know all and everything; and while I 
 spoke, the deep and varied emotions which cross- 
 ed her countenance, the intense interest that 
 every incident I related, every feeling I acknow- 
 ledged, called up in the pure bland mirror of 
 her face, was compensation a thousand and a 
 thousand fold for all that I had suffered. 
 
256 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 The pains, the cares, the sorrows of the past 
 had taught us all that sad lesson, the darkest, 
 most grievous which experience forces on us — 
 ever present doubt of each future moment; — 
 and it was agreed that Emily should become 
 mine as speedily as possible. But, alas .' who 
 can stretch his power over the next half-hour 
 and say, " It 'shall be at my disposal!" Our 
 marriage was appointed to take place before the 
 end of the month, and we were making prepa- 
 rations to hurry back to Bordeaux for that pur- 
 pose. But Mr. Somers was obliged to attend 
 the criminal court at Tarbes, on the trial of the 
 prisoner Essex. The agitation and heat were 
 more than he could bear, and after having given 
 his evidence clearly and distinctly, he was seen 
 to fall. I hastened to his assistance, and found 
 that he had been suddenly struck with })alsy. 
 Borne back to his own house, medical aid was 
 speedily procured ; and he soon recovered the 
 possession of all his faculties, but my marriage 
 with Emily was of course delayed ; and the phy- 
 sicians having recommended him to try the 
 waters of Bareges, for the complete restoration 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 257 
 
 of his health, we removed thither, and remained 
 till the close of the season. His health certainly 
 improved in a degree, but still his corporeal 
 powers were so much impaired, his danger so 
 great, and his situation so painful, that all thought 
 of more joyful events was of course put aside. 
 
 After our return from Bareges, a friend in 
 whom he placed great reliance, recommended 
 him to a Parisian physician ; and although we 
 were obliged to wait for the return of spring, 
 we proceeded towards the French metropolis as 
 soon as the weather was sufficiently warm to 
 permit of our performing the journey without 
 danger to the invalid. It was accomplished by 
 slow stages, and we arrived in Paris in the be- 
 ginning of June. For a time the health of Mr. 
 Somers seemed to improve under the new treat- 
 ment to which he was subjected, and so far had 
 he proceeded in his convalescence, that my mar- 
 riage with Emily was fixed to take place within 
 a month. The unfortunate twenty-sixth of July, 
 J 830, however intervened, and the outbreaking 
 of the last French revolution, found us tied to 
 Paris without the possibility of quitting a capital 
 
258 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 in which, during all former political convulsions, 
 crimes of the deepest dye had been committed. 
 My anxiety for Emily and Mr, Somers was of 
 course very great, for no one had any right to 
 expect that the French populace would show 
 such noble and magnanimous forbearance as 
 they then did, and the re-enactment of some, at 
 least, of the horrors of former days was reason- 
 ably to be anticipated. When, however, the 
 great struggle was over, and a revolution was 
 effected, which, by its splendid moderation and 
 magnificent integrity of purpose and accom- 
 plishment, must be received as the atonement 
 and expiation of the former bloody and insane 
 catastrophe, Mr. Somers, over -excited by the 
 reports which we could not shut out from his 
 ears, relapsed into a state worse than that from 
 which he had partially recovered. In the mean 
 time, I applied myself as far as possible to re- 
 lieve those individual cases of sorrow and dis- 
 tress which every great social convulsion must 
 leave behind. In the course of my efforts for 
 that purpose, a little narrative of suffering fell 
 into my hands, which may not be uninteresting 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 259 
 
 — perhaps not uninstructive. It came to me 
 through a third person, and the ultimate fate of 
 the unhappy man who wrote it, I could never 
 discover. It was as follows: — 
 
•260 
 
 THE 
 
 HISTORY OF A FRENCH ARTIZAN 
 
 DURING THE LAST REVOLUTION. 
 
 I WAS born in the beautiful valley of the Seine, 
 near the small town of Bonnieres. It is a 
 lovely place, and I will say no more of it ; for 
 in sitting down to write all the miseries and 
 horrors that have visited me since I left it, the 
 fair calm spot of my birth, and the sweet peace- 
 ful scenes of my boyhood, rise up like the re- 
 proachful spirit of a noble parent before a crimi- 
 nal son, and upbraid me for having ever quitted 
 my tranquil home. 
 
 My father, though but the gardener at the 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 261 
 
 chateau, was also a small propriefaire ; and, 
 in his spare time, used to cultivate his own 
 fields by the banks of the river. The chateau 
 
 had been purchased by Monsieur V , the 
 
 rich bookseller in Paris ; and in hanging about 
 the house while a child, I became a great 
 favourite with the good Parisian. Still my 
 principal patron was Monsieur le Cure of 
 Bonnieres, who discovered in me an amazing 
 genius for my catechism, taught me to read and 
 write, gave me a smattering of Latin, and de- 
 clared, that if I took pains and behaved well, 
 
 he and Monsieur V between them, would 
 
 procure me the means of studying, and make me 
 a clergyman like himself. 
 
 My ambition was flattered with the prospect ; 
 and during my early years, the dream of my 
 future honours was always before me; but, as I 
 grew up and learnt to dance upon the green 
 with the girls of the village, my sentiments in- 
 sensibly changed. I began to think of leaving 
 olf dancing, and being grave, and serious, and 
 never marrying — each with an augmented de- 
 gree of horror. The decisive blow, however, 
 
"26*2 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 was struck, when I had seen three times Mariette 
 Dupont. We were both as young as we w^ell 
 could be to fall in love ; but she was so beauti- 
 ful, and her soft dark eyes looked so imploringly 
 into one's heart, that from the very first moment 
 I saw her, I felt an inclination to put my arm 
 round her, and say, " Thou shalt be my own ; 
 and I will guard thee from sorrow, and care, and 
 adversity ; and shelter thee from every blast that 
 blows in the bleak cold world around." 
 
 But on this I must not pause either, for the 
 memory of such dreams is bitterness. The mat- 
 ter went on — I loved Mariette, and she 
 
 Ay ! that joy is at least my own — lasting — im- 
 perishable, and the annihilation of a world could 
 
 not take it from me She loved me — deeply, 
 
 truly, devotedly — through life — to the tomb ! 
 
 Years flew by ; and we were married ; for my 
 father had never liked the thought of my be- 
 coming a priest, which he looked upon as being 
 buried ahve. He said I should do much better 
 to labour as my ancestors had done ; or, since I 
 had a superior education, could read and write, 
 and understood Latin, I might easily make my 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 263 
 
 fortune in Paris. So he willingly gave his con- 
 sent to my marriage with Mariette. Monsieur 
 
 V the bookseller, said it was always right 
 
 to let fools have their own way ; and the Cure 
 frowned and united us, merely observing, that 
 he had bestowed his time and attention very 
 much in vain. 
 
 By my father's counsel, we determined to go 
 to Paris immediately, for he and my brother 
 were both sure that I should there become a 
 great man, and Mariette had no doubt of it. 
 " Besides," my father said, *' if you do not get 
 on there, you can come back here, and help to 
 take care of our own gi'ound, while I work at the 
 chateau." 
 
 To Paris we went, and took a small lodging 
 in the Faubourg Poissonnier, where, for two 
 or three weeks, Mariette and myseK spent our 
 time and our money in love and amusement. 
 We were not extravagant, but we were thought- 
 less ; and surely a three weeks' thoughtlessness 
 was but a fair portion for such happiness as we 
 enjoyed. 
 
 At length I began to think of seeking some- 
 
264 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 thing to do ; and I had sufficient self-confidence 
 to fancy I could even write in a newspaper. 
 Forth I went to propose myself; and Mariette's 
 eyes told me how high were her anticipations of 
 my success. To the proprietors of the Constitu- 
 tionnel, my first application was made ; but the 
 gentleman I saw bent his ear to catch my pro- 
 vincial jargon — looked at me from head to foot 
 — told me I was dreaming; and turned upon 
 his heel. How I got out of the house, I know 
 not ; but when I found myself in the street, my 
 head swam round, and my heart swelled with 
 mingled indignation, shame, and disappointment. 
 
 It required no small effort to force myself to 
 enter the office of another newspaper of much 
 repute. Here I mentioned my pretensions, in 
 a humbler tone, and only proposed that some- 
 thing from my pen might be received as an ex- 
 periment. The clerk to whom I spoke bore my 
 message into an inner room, and returned with 
 a calm, business-hke face, to inform me that all 
 departments were full. 
 
 This had occupied me the whole morning ; 
 and I now returned to Mariette, who instantly 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN, 265 
 
 read my mortification in my countenance. She 
 asked no questions, but only cast her arms 
 round my neck, and with a smile, which was 
 not gayj though it was not desponding, she 
 whispered, " Do not be vexed, Frank. They 
 cannot know yet how clever you are. When 
 they see more of you, they will be glad enough 
 to have you. Besides, we can go back again to 
 Bonnieres." 
 
 The thought of returning unsuccessful to my 
 own home, was not what I could endure. I 
 imagined the cold eye of the curate; and the 
 disappointment and surprise of my father and 
 brother ; and the jeers and the wonder of the 
 whole village ; and I determined to do anything 
 rather than go back to Bonnieres. 
 
 The landlord of our lodgings was a tinman, a 
 great politician, and a literary man. All his in- 
 forihation, however, was gathered from a paper 
 called the G , which he cited on every oc- 
 casion. To the office of the G , then, I 
 
 went, after dinner ; and, having taken a couple 
 of turns before the door, to gather resolution, 
 I went in, and modestly asked when I could 
 
 VOL. 111. N 
 
266 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 see the editor. One of the young men in the 
 
 office answered that Monsieur was then in 
 
 the house, and ushered me into another room. 
 Here I foimd a gentleman writing, who looked 
 up with a pleasant and intelligent expression, 
 and pointing to a seat, asked my business. 
 
 As I explained it to him, his countenance 
 took a look of great seriousness ; and he re- 
 plied, " I am extremely sorry that no such occu- 
 pation as you desire can be afforded you by the 
 
 editors of the G , for we have applications 
 
 every day, which we are obliged to reject, from 
 writers of known excellence. I am afraid, also, 
 that you will find much difficulty in obtaining 
 what you seek, for one of the worst consequences 
 of bad government is now affecting the whole of 
 France. I mean the undue proportion between 
 the number of the population and the quantity 
 of employment. Where the fault lies, I must 
 not presume to say, but that there must be a 
 great fault somewhere is evident; otherwise 
 every man who is willing to labour, would find 
 occupation." 
 
 It has struck me since, that there must often 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 267 
 
 be causes for want of employment, which no 
 government could either control or remedy ; but, 
 at the time, his reasoning seemed excellent ; and 
 all 1 felt was renewed disappointment, and a 
 touch of despair, which I believe showed itself 
 very plainly in my face, for the editor began to 
 ask me some farther questions, which soon led 
 me to tell him my precise situation. 
 
 He mused, and seemed interested; but for a 
 moment replied nothing. At length, looking at 
 me with a smile, he said, " Perhaps, what I am 
 about to propose to you, may be very inferior to 
 your expectations ; nevertheless it will afford 
 you some occupation." 
 
 The very name of occupation was renewed 
 life, and I listened with eagerness, while he of- 
 fered to recommend me to a printer, as what is 
 called a reader, or corrector of the press. I em- 
 braced his proposal with unutterable thankful- 
 ness ; and having ascertained that I was capable 
 of the task, by some proof-sheets that lay upon 
 
 the table, he wrote a note to Monsieur M , 
 
 the printer, and put it into my hand. I could 
 
 N 2 
 
268 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 almost have knelt and worshipped him, so great 
 was the change from despair to hope. 
 
 With the letter in my hand I flew to the 
 printing-house, was tried and received ; and, 
 though the emolument held out was as small 
 as it well could be, my walk home was with 
 the springing step of joy and independence; 
 and my heart, as I pressed Mariette to my 
 bosom, and told her my success, was like that 
 of a great general in the moment of victory, 
 before the gloss of triumph has been tar- 
 nished by one regret for the gone, or one cal- 
 culation for the future. I was soon installed in 
 my new post; and though what I gained was 
 barely enough for the necessaries of life, yet it 
 sufficed; and there was always a dear warm 
 smile in the eyes I loved best, which cheered 
 and supported me whenever I felt inclined to 
 despond or give way» 
 
 It is true, I often regretted that I could not 
 procure for Mariette those comforts and those 
 luxuries which I little valued myself; but she 
 seemed to heed them not, and every privation 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 269 
 
 appeared to her a matter of pride — to be borne 
 rather as a joy than a care. Six months thus 
 passed ; and they were the happiest of my Ufe, 
 for though I laboured, I laboured in the sun- 
 shine. I had perfectly sufficient time also, to 
 make myself thoroughly acquainted with the 
 whole art of printing, and to fit myself for the 
 task of a compositor, which, though more me- 
 chanical, was more lucrative ; and it became 
 necessary that I should gain more, as a change 
 was coming over Mariette which promised us 
 new cares and new happiness. Strange, that 
 when I looked upon her languid features, and 
 her altered shape, she seemed to me a thou- 
 sand times more lovely, than in all the fresh 
 gi-aces of expanding womanhood ! And when 
 fears for her safety mingled with the joy of 
 possessing her — when her calm sweet eyes 
 rested long and fixedly upon me, as if she 
 strove to trace out the image of her future child 
 in the looks of its father — a new and thrilling 
 interest appeared to have grown up between us, 
 which was something more than love. 
 
 At length, one of the compositors having 
 
270 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 gone to conduct a printing office at Rennes, my 
 object was accomplished; and I obtained his 
 vacant place. Still the emoluments were infi- 
 nitely small, for the book trade was bad, and of 
 course the printers suiFered. Sometimes there 
 was plenty of work, and sometimes there was 
 none ; and the whole of my companions mur- 
 mured highly at the government, whose imbe- 
 cility and tyrannical conduct, they said, had 
 destroyed the commerce of the country, and 
 done everything to ruin and degrade the press. 
 There was many a busy whisper amongst us, 
 that nothing could save the nation but a new 
 revolution ; and as we all felt more or less the 
 sharp tooth of want, we madly thought that no 
 change would be detrimental to us. I doubted 
 some of the opinions that I heard ; but one of 
 my comrades worked at the G — -, which had 
 now become a daily paper, and he used often 
 to give us long quotations, which convinced 
 us all that the government was opposed to the 
 wishes of the whole nation, and that any change 
 must be for the better. 
 During the autumn, I contrived to save some 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 271 
 
 little portion of my wages ; but the rigour of 
 the ^vinter, and the quantity of wood we were 
 obliged to burn, soon consumed all that I had 
 laid by; so that the provision for Mariette's 
 confinement became a matter of serious and 
 dreadful anxiety. One morning, however, I re- 
 ceived a letter from my brother, telling me that 
 my father had died suddenly on the preceding 
 night. I will not rest upon all that I felt. I 
 had always been the slave of my imagination ; 
 and it had been one of my favourite vanities to 
 think how proud my father's heart would be to 
 see me raise myself high in the world, and how 
 comfortable I should be able to render his old 
 age, when the smile of fortune should be turned 
 upon me. But now^ he was dead, and those 
 dreams all broken. 
 
 The little patch of ground which we possessed 
 was of course divided between me and my 
 brother ; and my portion was instantly sold to 
 provide for the occasion which was so near at 
 hand. The depression of all property, and the 
 haste with which I was obliged to effect the 
 sale, rendered it the most disadvantageous that 
 
272 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 can be conceived ; and what with the expenses of 
 Mariette's confinement, a long illness which 
 she underwent after, and a fit of sickness which 
 I suffered myself — before the end of March my 
 stock of money was reduced to fifty francs. 
 
 Work was by this time sufficient and regular, 
 so that I could maintain myself, Mariette, and 
 our boy. We had, indeed, no superfluity; we 
 knew no luxury ; and the external enjoyments 
 which I saw many possessing, far less worthy than 
 ourselves, were denied to us. 
 
 Mariette bore it all with cheerfulness, but I 
 grew gloomy and discontented, and the con- 
 tinual murmurs at the government, which I 
 heard amongst my companions, wrought upon 
 me. I gradually began to dream that every- 
 thing unpleasant in my situation was attribut- 
 able to the state of society in which I lived. 
 Every political change now seemed to irritate 
 and affect me. Whereas, before I heard a word 
 of politics, I used to work on with hope and 
 activity, encountering hardships boldly, and 
 feehng them the less, because I did not let my 
 mind rest upon them, I now dwelt upon every 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 273 
 
 uncomfortj and magnified it in my own eyes, for 
 the purpose of making it a greater reproach to 
 the government, whose evil measures, I thought, 
 caused it. I would pause long in my work to 
 read scraps from a newspaper, and to comment 
 on the folly and tyranny of our rulers ; and thus 
 I met several reproofs for my slowness and neg- 
 ligence. 
 
 The fires in Normandy I heard of with 
 indignation and horror, and I attributed them 
 all to the ministers, whose wickedness I 
 thought was capable of any baseness, till one 
 day I heard one of my more violent companions 
 observe, that the incendiaries were very much 
 in the right, to burn down the barns and destroy 
 the grain, as by making the great mass of the 
 people as miserable and pennyless as them- 
 selves, they would force them to bring about a 
 revolution, which would set all things to rights. 
 Besides, he asked, what right had a rich man to 
 corn, when the poor were starving ? 
 
 The elections for the chamber of deputies were 
 another great source of anxiety to me ; and 
 when I found they were all liberal, I felt nearly 
 
 N 5 
 
274 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 as much satisfaction as if I had been elected 
 myself. At length the meeting of the chambers 
 approached ; and many a warm discussion took 
 place amongst the journeymen printers, on the 
 questions likely to be brought under considera- 
 tion. Every one said that the ministers must 
 go out, or dissolve the chambers ; but many ob- 
 served with a shrewd glance, that neither the 
 dissolution of the chambers, nor the resignation 
 of the ministers, would satisfy the people. " We 
 must have a change," they said — " a complete 
 change;" and several began to talk boldly of 
 revolution. 
 
 The continual irritation and discontent I felt, 
 had their effect on my countenance ; and Mariette 
 grew anxious about me. She did all she could 
 to soothe me — sat with her arms round my neck, 
 and endeavoured to persuade me that I should 
 be happier if I did not think of politics. " Kings 
 and governments," she said, and said truly, 
 " could only provide for the general good ; and 
 that there must always be many in every coun- 
 try whose fate destined them to labour and live 
 hard. She could not but think," she added. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 275 
 
 " that the way to be happy, was for every one 
 to try, by his own exertions, to improve his own 
 condition ; and neither to envy his neighbour 
 nor to meddle with affairs in which he was not 
 well practised." 
 
 She sought to induce me, too, to return 
 to Bonnieres. We had never been so happy 
 since we left it ; and so sweetly, so perse- 
 veringly did she urge a request which I saw 
 was made for my sake more than her own, that 
 at length I consented to go, and, quitting all 
 the vain dreams which had led me to Paris, 
 to re-assume the class and occupation of my 
 fathers. 
 
 We had not money to go by the diligence ; 
 but we were both good walkers ; and the baby, 
 being brought up by hand — and that upon the 
 simplest food — would prove but little en- 
 cumbrance. 
 
 This determination was taken on Sunday the 
 25th of July, and the next day I gave my em- 
 ployer notice that, at the end of the month, I 
 should quit him. In the meantime we deter- 
 mined to save every sous that was possible, in 
 
276 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 order to provide for our expenses by the way ; 
 for which we had hitherto made no reserve. 
 
 On the Monday following, I joined the rest of 
 the printers, and we worked through the day in 
 tranquillity. At night, however, as I was re- 
 turning over the Pont Neuf, I met one of my 
 companions, who grasped my hand, asking, with 
 a look of intense eagerness, " If I had heard the 
 news ?" The suddenness of the question, and 
 his look of anxiety, alarmed me. I knew not 
 well what I dreaded, but, at all events, my fears 
 were all personal. His tale soon relieved me 
 of my apprehensions for Mariette and our child ; 
 but raised my indignation to the highest pitch 
 against the government. The King, he told 
 me, had violated the charter, struck at the 
 liberty of the press, altered the law of elec- 
 tion, and reduced the people to a nation of 
 slaves. 
 
 Distant shouts met our ear as we were cross- 
 ing the Rue St. Honore ; and hurrying on in 
 the direction from which they proceeded, we 
 came upon an immense multitude, who were 
 breaking the lamps, and yelUng execrations 
 against the government. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 277 
 
 I was well enough inclined to join them ; but 
 remembering Mariette, I returaed home, and 
 told her all that occurred. As I spoke, a pale- 
 ness came over her beautiful face, so unusual, 
 so ghastly, that it made me start. It seemed as 
 if some warning voice had told her that every 
 happy dream was at an end — that the eternal 
 barrier had fallen between us and joy for ever. 
 The next morning everything seemed to have 
 passed by, which had disturbed the tranquillity 
 of the town on the previous evening — the 
 streets were quiet, and the people engaged in 
 their usual occupations. Mariette's mind ap- 
 peared somewhat calmed; but still she looked 
 at me anxiously, as she saw me about to depart, 
 and made me promise more than once, that I 
 would go straight to my work, without mingling 
 with any mob I might see. 
 • I kept my word ; and, though I saw several 
 groups of people gathering round the corners 
 of the streets, where the obnoxious ordinances 
 were posted up, I did not even stop to read, 
 but hurried on to the printing-house w^ith 
 all speed. The scene in the work-rooms was 
 
278 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 different fi'om any I had ever beheld. All 
 the presses were standing still ; and the work- 
 men, gathered into knots, were each declaim- 
 ing more violently than the other, on the in- 
 famy and folly of the government; and, with 
 furious gestures, vowing vengeance. The over- 
 seer came in soon after, and with some diffi- 
 culty got us to our work; but, about twelve 
 o'clock, the proprietor of the establishment him- 
 self appeared, and told us to leave off our 
 labours. 
 
 "My good friends," said he, "the govern- 
 ment has annihilated the liberty of the press. 
 The type of several of the journals has been 
 seized this morning. Our liberties are at an 
 end without we secure them by our own force. 
 Far be it from me to counsel tumult or blood- 
 shed — the law is quite sufficient to do us 
 justice. However, I have determined, as well 
 as Monsieur Didot and all the other printers, 
 to cease business, and discharge my work- 
 men." We were then paid the small sum 
 owing to each, and dismissed, with a caution to 
 be quiet and orderly, and to trust to the law ; 
 
THE DESULTORY MAX. 279 
 
 though the very fact of turning out a number of 
 unemployed and discontented men, upon such a 
 city as Paris, seemed to me the very best possi- 
 ble v^ay of producing that tumult which we 
 were warned to avoid. 
 
 I soon after found, that it was not alone the 
 printers who had been discharged, but that 
 almost all the workmen in the city had been 
 suddenly thrown out of employment. As I re- 
 turned home, there was a sort of ominous silence 
 about the town that had something fearful in it. 
 Not ten persons were to be seen upon the Quais, 
 which are usually so crowded ; and it seemed as 
 if the whole population had been concentrated 
 on particular points. 
 
 To my great surprise, on entering my lodg- 
 ing, I found my brother sitting with Mariette, 
 and holding our infant on his knee, while 
 tlie child looked up in his face and smiled, 
 as if it knew that those were kindred eyes 
 which gazed upon it. My brother soon told 
 me the occasion of his coming to Paris, which 
 was to buy seeds and plants for the hot-house 
 
'280 THE DESULTORY MAX. 
 
 at the Chateau; and about three o'clock, as 
 everything was quiet, I went out with him. 
 
 As we passed onward, we soon saw that all 
 was not right. The shops were closed— the 
 gates of the Palais Royal were shut — groups of 
 gloomy faces were gathered at every corner — 
 and the whole town wore the dull, heavy aspect 
 of a thunder-cloud, before the storm bursts forth 
 in all its fury. A few gens-d'armes were to be 
 seen, but no extraordinary military force ap- 
 peared ; and gradually the same sort of yelling 
 shouts came upon our ear that I had heard the 
 night before. 
 
 As we approached the Rue St. Honore, the 
 cries became louder; and turning down the 
 Rue des Bons Enfans, we found ourselves sud- 
 denly in the crowd from which they proceeded. 
 It consisted of about five hundred men and boys, 
 all unarmed. Some had stones in their hands, 
 and some had sticks ; but no more deadly wea- 
 pons could I discern amongst them. A great 
 proportion of the mob were discharged printers, 
 and I was instantly recognised by several of my 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 281 
 
 fellow-workmen, drawn into the crowd with my 
 brother, who was very willing to go, and hurried 
 on towards the Place Vendome, whither the 
 rioters were directing their steps, with the pur- 
 pose of attacking the house of Monsieur de 
 Peyronnet, one of the obnoxious ministers. 
 
 The numbers in the Rue St. Honore were in 
 no degree tremendous; but as we entered the place 
 Vendome, I saw an equal body coming up the 
 Rue CastigHone, and another approaching by 
 the Rue de la Paix. A large force of mounted 
 gens-d'armerie was drawn up in the square; 
 and shortly after, a party of the guard, and the 
 troops of the line, appeared. There seemed to 
 be considerable hesitation on both parts to strike 
 the first blow ; and as long as we kept to shouts 
 the military remained passive. What took place 
 towards Peyronnet's house, I could not disco- 
 ver, my view being obstructed by the heads of 
 the people, but there seemed a considerable 
 tumult in that direction ; and a moment after, 
 a lad beside me threw an immense brick at the 
 head of the officer of gens-d'armerie, crying, " A 
 has le Roi ! Vive la Charte !" 
 
28*2 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 The missile took effect, knocked off the offi- 
 cer's hat, and covered his forehead with a stream 
 of blood. That instant the word was given to 
 charge ; and in a moment, we were driven down 
 the Rue St. Honore in confusion and terror. 
 My brother could not run so fast as I could, and 
 at the corner of the Palais Royal, I found that 
 he was left several yards behind, while the horses 
 were close upon him. I instinctively started 
 back to assist him, and seeing no other means, 
 I seized a wine-cask that stood at one of the 
 doors, and rolled it with all my strength between 
 him and the soldiers. The nearest gen-d'arme's 
 horse, stopped in full course, stumbled and fell 
 over the barrel. A loud shout of gratulation 
 and triumph burst from the people ; and turning 
 in their flight, they discharged a shower of 
 bricks and stones upon the advancing cavalry, 
 which struck more than one horseman from his 
 saddle, and afforded time for my brother and 
 myself to join the rest, which we did amidst 
 great cheering and applause, as the first who 
 had actually resisted the military. Elated by 
 the cheer, my brother entered with enthusiasm 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 283 
 
 into the feelings of the multitude, while I felt 
 as if I had committed a crime, in injuring men 
 who were but doing their duty. 
 
 A temporary cessation of hostility now oc- 
 curred between the people and the soldiery. 
 The gens-d'armerie estabhshed themselves in 
 the Place du Palais Royal, some troops of the 
 hne took possession of the Rue St. Honore, 
 and the mob occupied the end of the Rue de 
 Richelieu, and the corners of the Rue Mont- 
 pensier, where the new and incomplete build- 
 ings afforded plenty of loose stones, which were 
 soon again used as missiles against the gens- 
 d'armes. I would fain now have got away and 
 returned home, but my brother would remain ; 
 and my companions, remembering the affair of the 
 barrel, put me forward as a kind of leader; so that 
 vanity joined with enthusiasm to make me con- 
 tinue, while the thought of Mariette came from 
 time to time across my memory with a thrill of 
 dispiriting anxiety. 
 
 The next two hours passed all in tumult. 
 The soldiers charged us several times, and we 
 fled, but still returned to our position as they 
 
284 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 re-assumed theirs. Many shots were fired, but 
 few fell, and muskets, fowling-pieces, pistols, 
 and swords began to appear amongst the crowd, 
 while in one or two places I discerned the uni- 
 form of the National Guard, and two or three 
 youths from the Polytechnic School. Darkness 
 soon after this came on ; the multitudes opposed 
 to the soldiery were increasing every minute, 
 and a cry began to run through the crowd, 
 " To the gunsmiths' shops ! To the gunsmiths' 
 shops !" 
 
 Instantly this suggestion was obeyed. We 
 dispersed in a moment. Every gunsmith's 
 shop in the neighbourhood was broken open, 
 and almost before I was aware, I was armed 
 with a double-barrelled gun and a brace of 
 pistols, and provided with powder and ball. 
 The shop from which these instruments of 
 slaughter were procured was one at the end of 
 the Rue de Vivienne, and as I came out, I 
 paused to consider which way I should now turn. 
 
 " Let us go to the Corps de Garde near the 
 Exchange," cried one of the men who had been 
 near me all the day. *' Lead on, mon brave,'' 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 285 
 
 he continued, laying his hand upon my shoulder, 
 "2/ow shall be our captain." I looked round 
 for my brother, but he was no longer there, and 
 I followed the man s suggestion. As we went, 
 by the advice of one of the Polytechnic School, 
 we put out all the lamps, and spread the cry 
 everywhere to do the same. 
 
 It was now quite dark, and our number in- 
 creased at every step as we advanced. Opposite 
 the Corps de Garde, at the Bourse, a small body 
 of soldiers was drawn up, and two or three torches 
 were lighted. A warning to stand off ! was given, 
 as soon as the troops heard our approach, and as 
 we still advanced, increasing our pace, a volley 
 instantly followed. A ball whistled close by my 
 ear and made me start, but still I rushed on ; and 
 the soldiers, seeing the multitude by which they 
 were attacked, attempted to retreat into the 
 guard-house. 
 
 We were upon them, however, before the 
 doors could be closed, and a terrific struggle 
 took place, man to man. One strong fellow 
 closed with me, and the strife between us 
 soon grew for life. Our feet slipped, and we fell 
 
286 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 together, rolling over and over, wrapped, with a 
 sort of convulsive fold, in each other's arms. 
 All thought was out of the question ; but sud- 
 denly getting one of my hands fre«9, I brought 
 the muzzle of a pistol close to my opponent's 
 head, and fired. For an instant his fingers 
 pressed more tightly round my throat — then 
 every muscle was in a moment relaxed, and as I 
 sprang up, he rolled backwards on the pavement. 
 The fury of excitement was now upon me, 
 and hearing some shots still ringing within 
 the guard-house, I was rushing towards it, 
 when I perceived the multitude pouring forth, 
 and a- thick smoke, with some flashes of flame, 
 streaming from the windows. The guard-house 
 was on fire, and in an instant the whole 
 sky was in a blaze. I stood to look at it, 
 for a moment, as the fire light flashed and 
 flickered upon the dark and demon-like figures 
 that surrounded the pile, and on the various 
 dead bodies that lay in the open space the 
 people had left, as in awe, between them and 
 the destruction they had wrought. It was a 
 fearful sight — sweet memories of peace and 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 287 
 
 home rushed upon my brain — I shuddered at 
 my own deeds, and turning from the whole 
 vision of excited passion before my eyes, I ran 
 as hard as I could to reach my home. 
 
 O never did I feel the thought of returning 
 to the secure arms of her I loved, so exquisite, 
 as at that moment ! and I flew up the stairs 
 rather than ran. I opened the door and entered. 
 Mariette was kneeling by the cradle of our child. 
 She did not hear me come in. I pronounced her 
 name. At first she made no reply ; but then 
 turned round with a face that will haunt me to 
 the grave, and pointed to the cradle. I sprang 
 forward and looked. There were traces of blood 
 and bloody bandages strewed about, and round 
 the poor infant's white and delicate shoulder were 
 the compresses and dressings of a fresh wound. 
 
 " Good God, Mariette !" I exclaimed, " how 
 -is this ? How ?" 
 
 " I heard firing in the streets," she answered, 
 with an awful degree of calmness, " I feared for 
 my husband — ran out to see ; and not daring to 
 leave it all alone, I took my child to death. I 
 had scarcely gone a yard, when a shot struck it 
 in my arms." 
 
288 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Through the whole of that dreadful night, 
 Mariette and I sat by the cradle of our dying 
 child — silent as the grave, with our eyes fixed 
 upon its pale and ashy countenance, and hardly 
 daring to lift our looks towards each other. 
 From time to time it gave a faint and torturing 
 cry, but in general, seemed in a panting sort of 
 sleep, till towards four in the morning, when the 
 breathing stopped, and I know not what grey 
 shadow fell over its calm sweet face. I did not 
 think it was dead ; but Mariette threw her arms 
 round my neck, and hid her eyes upon my 
 bosom. 
 
 It was nearly mid-day on the Wednesday, 
 when one of my companions came to tell me 
 that the man who, it was reported, had been 
 seen with me the day before, had been killed 
 by a shot on the Boulevards, and I hastened 
 after the messenger to ascertain the truth, for 
 my brother had not yet re-appeared. He led 
 me to the door of the Exchange, over which the 
 tri-coloured flag was now flying in triumph, but 
 on each side of the gate was stretched a dead 
 corpse, and the first I saw was indeed my bro- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 289 
 
 ther. Rage and revenge took possession of my 
 whole heart. I joined the brave men who were 
 marching down to the Place de Greve ; and from 
 that moment, I entered into every act of the 
 revolution, with all the enthusiasm, the zeal, the 
 fury of the rest. 
 
 It is needless to detail every scene I witnessed, 
 and every struggle in which I shared. Suffice it, 
 I was in most of those that occurred — at the tak- 
 ing and re -taking of the Hotel de Ville — at the 
 storming of the Louvre, and at the capture of the 
 Tuileries. The enthusiasm amongst us was im- 
 mense and overpowering; and the moderation and 
 heroism with which it was conducted, reconciled me 
 fully to the revolution. From time to time, I ran 
 home to soothe and console my poor Mariette, 
 and to snatch a mouthful of bread, for our purse 
 was now so low that we did not dare to purchase 
 ' anything else, Mariette ate little while I was 
 there, but she assured me that she had plenty, 
 and that she generally took something while I 
 was gone in the middle of the day. Grief and 
 anxiety had worn her sadly ; the lustre had quit- 
 ted her eye, and the rose had left her cheek : 
 
 VOL. III. o 
 
290 THE DESULTORY MAX. 
 
 and she looked at me so sadly, so painfully, as I 
 went away, that every time I determined it 
 should be the last. 
 
 At length the royal troops were beaten out of 
 Paris, and the palace where monarchs had revel- 
 led, fell into the hands of the people. A few of 
 the National Guard and a few of the common 
 people were selected, as to a post of high honour, 
 to guard the Tuileries during the night, under the 
 command of a student of the Polytechnic School. 
 I was one of those fixed upon; and having sent, by 
 a comrade, a message to Mariette, which he for- 
 got to deliver, I remained for the night in those 
 scenes of ancient splendour. There was some- 
 thing awfully melancholy in the solitary palace 
 and a feehng of compassion for the dethroned 
 king grew over my heart as I sat in the midst 
 of the magnificent halls that he might never see 
 again. As soon as we were relieved the next 
 morning, 1 flew to Mariette. She had passed a 
 night of the most dreadful anxiety, my comrade 
 having, as I have said, never delivered my mes- 
 sage. Her eye was hollow and her cheek was 
 sunk, but all seemed forgotten when she beheld 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 291 
 
 me safe ; and seeing me fatigued and faint, she 
 made me eat some bread and drink a glass of 
 water, almost weeping that she had not some- 
 thing better to give me. 
 
 As the last bit touched my lip, a vague 
 thought struck me that she had had none herself, 
 and I insisted on her telling me. She cast her 
 arms round me, and assured me with a smile, 
 that it did her more good to see me eat than to 
 take anything herself; but I at length drew 
 from her that all our money was expended, and 
 that she had not tasted anything for two days. 
 
 I thought I should have gone distracted ; and 
 after remaining for a few minutes stupified as it 
 were, I ran to the printing-house to see if I 
 could get work, and induce the overseer to ad- 
 vance me a single franc to buy some bread for 
 my poor Mariette. 
 
 The office, however, was shut up, and I 
 knocked in vain for admittance. I then turned 
 to the lodging of one of my fellow-printers, 
 who might lend me, I thought, even a few- 
 sous. I hurried up the narrow dirty stair- 
 case where he lived, and went into his room ; 
 
 o 2 
 
292 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 but the sight I saw soon convinced me he want- 
 ed assistance as much as I did. He was sitting 
 at an uncovered table, with five children of dif- 
 ferent ages about him. His cheek was wan and 
 hollow^ ; and as I entered, he fixed his haggard 
 eye upon the door, while his little girl kept 
 pulling him importunately by the arm, crying, 
 " Give me a piece, papa— I will have a piece of 
 bread." " Lend me a franc,'"* cried he as soon 
 as he saw me ; my children are starving — I will 
 pay you when I get work." 
 
 I told him my own condition ; but he burst 
 forth in the midst, as if seized with a sudden 
 fi'enzy, trembling with passion, and his eye 
 glaring like that of a wild beast. " You are 
 one of the revolutionists too. God's curse and 
 mine upon you ! See what your revolutions 
 have brought ! My children are starving — 
 every artizan in Paris is beggared and unem- 
 ployed. I am star\ing — my wife is dying for 
 want of medicines in that bed — all these dear 
 infants are famished ; and all by your cursed re- 
 volutions ! Out of my sight ! Begone ! for 
 fear I commit a murder." 
 
-^ilE DESULTORY MAN. 293 
 
 With a heart nearly breaking I returned 
 home, and folding my poor Mariette in my arms, 
 I gave way to tears, such as had never stained 
 my cheeks before. She tried to soothe me— and 
 smiled — and told me that really she was not 
 hungry — that she did not think she could eat if 
 she had anything : but oh ! I could not deceive 
 myself. I saw famine on her cheek, and heard 
 faintness in her tone; and after a long fit of 
 
 thought, I determined to go to Monsieur V , 
 
 the great bookseller, who had been so kind to 
 me while a boy. I told Mariette my errand, 
 and as Paris was now nearly as quiet as ever, 
 she willingly let me go. 
 
 It was a long way, and I had to cross the 
 whole city, so that it was late when I arrived. 
 
 Even then I found that Monsieur V was 
 
 out ; but the servant told me I could see him 
 the following morning at nine. With this cold 
 news I was forced to return ; and no one can 
 conceive what a miserable night I spent, think- 
 ing that every hour was an hour of starvation to 
 the dear creature by my side. She lay very 
 
294 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 still, but she slept not at all, and I felt sure that 
 the want of restmust wear her as much as hunger. 
 
 When I rose, she seemed rather sleepy, and 
 said she would remain in bed, and try for 
 some repose, as she had not closed her eyes 
 since Monday. It was too early to go to 
 
 Monsieur V , so I hurried first to the print- 
 
 ing-oflfice, for I hoped that the tranquillity which 
 was now returning, might have caused Monsieur 
 
 M to resume his usual business. I only 
 
 found the porter, who told me that there was 
 no chance of the house opening again for weeks 
 at least, if not months, and with a chilled heart 
 I proceeded to the house of Monsieur V . 
 
 Admission was instantly granted me, and I 
 found the great bookseller sitting at a table with 
 some written papers before him, on which he 
 was gazing with an eye from which the spirit 
 seemed withdrawn to rest upon some deep ab- 
 sorbing contemplation within. He was much 
 changed since I had seen him, and there w ere 
 in his appearance those indescribable traces of 
 wearing care, which often stamp, in legible cha- 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 295 
 
 racters, on the countenance, the misfortunes 
 which man would fain hide from all the world. 
 'There was a certain negligence, too, in his dress, 
 which struck me ; but as he received me kindly, 
 I told him all my sorrows, and all my wants. 
 
 As I spoke, his eyes fixed upon me with a 
 look of painful and intense interest, and when I 
 had done, he rose, closed the door, and took a 
 turn or two thoughtfully in the room. " What 
 has ruined you," said he at length, pausing be- 
 fore me, and speaking abruptly, " has ruined 
 me. The revolution we have just passed through 
 has been great and glorious in its character, and 
 all the world must look upon it with admiration ; 
 but it has made you and me, with hundreds, nay 
 thousands, of others— beggars — ay, utter beg- 
 gars. It is ever the case with revolutions. 
 Confidence is at an end throughout the country, 
 and commerce receives a blow that takes her 
 centuries to recover. The merchant becomes 
 a bankrupt— the artizan starves. I have now 
 seen two revolutions, one bloody and extrava- 
 gant, the other generous and moderate, and I 
 do not believe that at the end of either of them, 
 
296 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 there was one man in all France who could lay 
 his hand upon his heart and €fay, that he was 
 happier for their occurrence ; while millions in 
 want and poverty, and millions in mourning 
 and tears, cursed the day that ever infected 
 them with the spirit of change. 
 
 " To tell you all in one word : within an hour 
 from this time I am a bankrupt, and I am 
 only one of the first out of thousands. Those 
 thousands employ each thousands of work- 
 men, and thus the bread of millions is snatch- 
 ed from their mouths. 1 do not say that re- 
 revolutions are always wrong; but I do say 
 that they always bring a load of misery, es- 
 pecially to the laborious and working classes 
 — and now leave me, good youth. There 
 is a five-franc piece for you. It is all I can 
 give you, and that, in fact, I steal from my cre- 
 ditors. I pity you from my soul, and the more 
 perhaps, because I feel that I need pity my- 
 self." 
 
 The five-franc piece he gave me, I took with 
 gratitude and ecstasy. To me it was a fortune, 
 for it was enough to save my Mariette. I 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 297 
 
 hastened home with steps of light, only pausing 
 to buy a loaf and a bottle of wine. I ran up 
 stairs — I opened the door. Mariette had not 
 risen. She slept, I thought — I approached 
 quietly to the bed. All was still — too stilL A 
 faintness came over my heart, and it was a 
 moment or two before I could ascertain the 
 cause of the breathless calm that hung over the 
 chamber. I drew back the curtain, and the 
 bright summer sunshine streamed in upon the 
 cold — dead— marble cheek of all that to me had 
 been beautiful and beloved ! 
 
 When the extraordinary heat of the weather 
 which during the whole of July was extremely 
 oppressive, had somewhat subsided, a slight 
 change for the better took place in our invalid ; 
 and our hopes of a permanent amendment of 
 his health began to revive. One night, how- 
 
298 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 ever, after Emily and myself had been gazing 
 from the balcony of the hotel over the gardens 
 of the Tuileries, and watching star after star 
 come out in the deepening sky, we turned back 
 into the room, and sitting down at her writing- 
 desk, I wrote upon a scrap of paper some of 
 the feelings with which the night always filled 
 my heart, and which fell without an effort into 
 verse. 
 
 THE NIGHT. 
 
 The night — the night — the solemn night ! 
 
 The silent time of thought ; 
 The kingdom of the pale moonlight 
 And mem'rj, when things gone and bright 
 
 Are back to mortals brought. 
 
 The night — the night — the brilliant night 
 
 Clothed in her starry robe : 
 When sweet to Hope's ecstatic sight, 
 Come future dreams that day's hard ligLt 
 
 Had banished from the globe. 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. '299 
 
 The night — the night — the peacefiil night ! 
 
 The pause, when each calm joy, 
 Which Time, that oft unpitying wight. 
 Has spared or granted in his flight, 
 
 Is known without alloy. 
 
 The night — the night — how dear the night ! 
 
 Since now its dreams are sweet ; 
 Since Hope and Love have made it bright. 
 And changing darkness into light, 
 
 Have bade its shadows fleet. 
 
 " Take another sheet of paper, my dear 
 boy," said Mr. Somers, when he saw that I had 
 done, and be kind enough to write a note for 
 me." I did as he requested, when, to the sur- 
 prise of Emily and myself, he dictated a letter 
 to the chaplain of the embassy, expressing his 
 wish that he would perform the marriage cere- 
 mony between his daughter and myseK on the 
 morning of the Thursday following. It was 
 then Tuesday, and a few words of astonishment 
 rather than opposition broke from Emily's hps, 
 but he added at once, " Let it be so, my dear 
 child ! It is your father's particular request." 
 
300 THE DESULTORY MAN. 
 
 Emily said no more ; but hid her eyes for a 
 moment on his bosom, and the note was dis- 
 patched. With the greatest possible privacy 
 the ceremony was performed, and Mr. Somers, 
 who had made an effort to be present, was lifted 
 into the carriage, and proceeded with us to 
 a house we had taken for the time, in the 
 Val de Montmorency. The next day he ap- 
 peared greatly better ; but at night, about half 
 an hour after he had left us, his servant came 
 suddenly to call us, and, running to his room 
 with Emily, we found him with the last breath 
 of life hanging on his lips. All medical aid 
 proved vain, and when it was all over, Emily 
 and I both felt that it must have been some 
 presentiment of approaching fate that had caused 
 him to hurry our marriage. 
 
 Emily has now been long my own, linked to me 
 for life by that sweet indissoluble bond which no 
 two hearts worthy of happiness ever wished less 
 firm and permanent than it is. Changes may 
 come over my destiny, misfortunes may fall 
 upon me again, but I look calmly on to the 
 future ; and fear not that such sorrows will ever 
 
THE DESULTORY MAN. 301 
 
 darken the autumn of my days as those which 
 frowned upon their spring, and which it has 
 been my task to detail in the foregoing pages.*" 
 
 * To guard against all mistakes, it may be is well to state, 
 that all the tales, &c. which appear in the preceding page?, 
 are the production of one author, whether they be placed in 
 the mouths of various persons or not, ^\'ith the single exception 
 of that called a " Young Lady's Story," wliich occupies ten 
 pages, and is placed here principally to convince her that the 
 efforts of her pen lose nothing by comparison with those of an 
 old and practised writer. 
 
 It was my intention to have given a list of errata which the 
 reader will have perceived are exceedingly numerous in the 
 preceding pages. Their numbers indeed prevent me from ful- 
 filling that purpose, and I think it but fair to remark, that 
 though at least one half of them may perhaps be attributable 
 to the printers, the other half must rest upon my own shoulders, 
 as nothing has so soporific an effect upon me, as the reading of 
 my own works, and the very dullest work of another will keep 
 me awake, when two pages of what I consider my wittiest 
 compositions will send me sound asleep. Heaven forbid that 
 thej^ should have the same effect upon others, at any time but 
 that at which " nature's sweet restorer " may be especially re- 
 quisite to the refreshment of the mental or corporeal faculties 
 of my readers. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 IBOTSON AND PALMER, PKINTERS, SAVOV STREET, STRAND. 
 
iJ 
 

 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 084214797