"3SV^&^* 
 
 :^2ffij£ffl£M 
 
 Ipilllli; 
 
 L I B"RARY~ 
 OF THE 
 U N IVER.SITY 
 Of ILLI NOIS 
 
 <BZ2> 
 
 T3e\; 
 
 v.\ 
 

 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/icebound01thor 
 
ICE BOUND. 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER THOENBURY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 BRITISH ARTISTS FROM HOGARTH TO TURNER," 
 " EVERY" MAN HIS OWN TRUMPETER," 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 'Thrilling regions of thick -ribbed ice." 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1861. 
 
 The right 0/ Translation is reserved. 
 

 LONDON t 
 
 PRINTED BY R. BORN, GLOUCESTER STREET, 
 
 regent's PARK. 
 
<N 
 
 v i 
 
 ICE BOUND. 
 
 On the last day of May, 1836, the 
 Stormy Petrel set sail from Hull harbour, 
 on a pretended whaling expedition, but really 
 on a voyage of discovery, in search of the 
 passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific — a 
 favourite dream of our brave old commander, 
 Captain Beaver, who died five years ago last 
 Michaelmas, in the Orkney Islands. 
 
 We were rigged as a barque, as being most 
 suitable for working through the ice, and requir- 
 ing the fewest men, and were strengthened 
 with additional timbers, such as Captain 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Parry's vessels, the Isabella and Alexander, 
 had adopted. I must not torment my readers 
 with professional jargon, but I may just say, 
 that we carried thirty-six men, and having, be- 
 sides our mizen-topsail lengthened, our mizen- 
 mast, topmast, gaff, and driver-boom, so as to 
 make up, by a large driver and gaff topsail, 
 the same quantity of after-sail as before. 
 
 We ballasted with coals — about thirty-four 
 chaldron we could stow. We took care to have 
 housing cloths to roof in the deck, to keep out 
 the snow ; and the men were supplied with 
 w r olf-skin blankets, as well as good suits of 
 warm clothing. 
 
 I, John Perry, the first-lieutenant, as well 
 as Thomas Sidmouth, the surgeon, and George 
 Siderfin, the astronomer, a Devonshire man. 
 took great pains to make sure that all the 
 anti-scorbutics that we took out should be 
 good, as well as the essence of malt and hops, 
 and the pemmican, so important to Arctic 
 voyagers. 
 
 As to the azimuth-compasses and dipping- 
 
ICE BOUND. 3 
 
 needles, Siderfin took care of those ; while 
 I took charge of the sailing requisites of 
 the vessel, and of all that was necessary for 
 the health and well-being of the men ; for 
 Captain Beaver, though an admirable com- 
 mander, was rather apt to day-dream, and to 
 indulge in visions of discovery. 
 
 Well, we started, as I have said, without 
 cheer or " God bless you," for no one 
 knew our purpose ; and on September the 
 22nd we made the island of Rono, and Bara 
 on the following morning. On Sunday the 
 30th we passed " the sunken land of 
 Bus," as it is called in Dawson's chart, and, 
 heaving-to, obtained soundings in one hundred 
 and forty fathoms, in a bottom of very fine 
 white sand. 
 
 On June the 13th. Sunday, we saw large 
 flocks of Cape hens — a proof of our being off 
 Cape Farewell, as these birds are never seen 
 in any other part of Davis' Straits, or even 
 in Baffin's Bay. 
 
 On Thursday, the 17th of June, we ob- 
 
 B 2 
 
4 ICE BOUND. 
 
 served the sea to be of a lighter green than 
 usual ; and the next day, standing to the 
 northward, fell in with our first stream of ice 
 and several icebergs. 
 
 Now Siderfin grew serious, and got out his 
 self-registering thermometer ; and I looked 
 to my log books, for we were fast entering the 
 region of death. The ice grew hourly more 
 packed and heavy ; the birds, as the fulmar, 
 petrels, boatswains and kittiwakes, the black 
 guillemot and Greenland swallows, more 
 numerous than usual. 
 
 A breeze soon springing up from the east- 
 ward, we bore away to the W.N.W., through 
 rather close-sailing ice ; and here, as I shall not 
 have much room, I may as well describe the 
 various horrors we had gradually to encounter. 
 
 We had got gradually into it — by it I mean 
 the ice : first came floating slabs, looking like 
 large rounded blocks of diamond, soon lost in 
 the broad wallow of blue water and forgotten, 
 either as warnings or as harbingers of the 
 cold land of silence and death that we so 
 
ICE BOUND. 5 
 
 rashly sought. Then, in a few days' more 
 sail, sharp teeth of ice jagging the edges of 
 the shore, and turning them into huge saws, 
 miles and miles long. Next, sludge— -as the 
 sailors call it — or a general thickening of the 
 whole surface of the sea, as if some turhid 
 substance had been mixed up with it — the 
 thickening matter being really, when ex- 
 amined by Siderfin's ever-ready microscope, 
 a mere mass of fragile prismatic crystals, resem- 
 bling wet snow. Here we saw the unspun 
 hemp with which Winter, some hundred miles 
 farther on, spun his adamantine chains. 
 
 The next region of death we entered was 
 where the sludge-ice, being broken by con- 
 tinual oscillation into irregularly-shaped frag- 
 ments of some three inches diameter, froze 
 at night into a continuous sheet of a firmer 
 texture, which, as it brittled up under 
 the ship's keel, dropped into thin cakes, that 
 our men called " pancakes." Then, the ice 
 began to thicken into real bay ice, two inches 
 thick, on which we could walk near the shore, 
 
6 ICE BOUND. 
 
 and on which the polar bears ventured, growling 
 at the sailors of our boat — and the light ice 
 would sometimes, in a few nights, deepen into 
 heavy slabs three feet thick, as Siderfin ascer- 
 tained by careful measurement. 
 
 We all knew that before we came to the 
 ice-fields — as we called the sheets of ice, so 
 extensive that the further end could not be 
 seen from the croiv's nest — we should pass 
 through various degrees of cold and danger. 
 Through floes, for instance, or large, wander- 
 ing, heaped up masses; through brash ice, 
 or flocks of floating masses ; and also wide 
 drifts of open ice, through which the 
 Stormy Petrel could easily pass. And long 
 before this we had begun to meet icebergs, 
 half-a-mile long, and often 100 feet high, 
 bristling with frozen aiguilles, or glistening 
 with a thousand jewel colours. Once, when 
 we had been moored to one on a previous 
 voyage, I well remember, after a strong north- 
 westerly swell beating some hours on the 
 shore, seeing a huge buttress, as large as a 
 
ICE BOUND. 7 
 
 church — 150 feet high, at least — suddenly 
 topple over and fall into the sea, with a crash 
 as of an outburst of thunder cannon, and a 
 lather and churn of the water that seemed 
 to smoke and steam for hundreds of yards 
 round. I trembled when I saw it ; for I 
 heard at Hull that a similar piece had once 
 fallen, near the Seven Icebergs, on a Eussian 
 ship — killed the mate and two able-bodied 
 seamen, broke the fore and main masts, and 
 sprung the bowsprit. But what at first 
 alarmed us most of all, and excited the super- 
 stitious fears of our sailors, were the noises — 
 groaning, muttering, moaning, and thunder- 
 claps — made by the ice at night, when split- 
 ting either through a ground-swell, or some 
 sudden contraction of cold or expansion of 
 heat. I have, I assure you, reader, seen the 
 ice in a few moments break away for miles 
 along the shore, and then, beating together, 
 sink with the roar as of a thousand cannon. 
 
 And one special night, when the ice seemed 
 full of threatening and angry voices, I particu- 
 
8 ICE BOUND. 
 
 larly remember, because that same night our 
 lemon-juice bottles in three cases burst, and at 
 the same time we lest nearly all our- vinegar, 
 except a few bottles of highly-concentrated es- 
 sence, which had been removed from near the 
 ship's side, where the rest was kept. 
 
 Directly it became evident to us, clamping 
 itself as a dreadful certainty in our minds, 
 that the good ship, the Stormy Petrel, must 
 winter in these Arctic solitudes, it became 
 essentially necessary to amuse the men and 
 keep their minds alert, cheerful, and full of 
 hope. 
 
 Sidmouth was most attentive about the health 
 of the crew, and instituted, by Captain Beaver's 
 permission, a daily exercise drill, when the 
 men were not on shore shooting ptarmigan, 
 or looking for sorrel, or tripe de la roche. He 
 drew them up in single file, put them through 
 musketry-drill, and then " worked them," as he 
 called it, in his manly merry way, racing them 
 up and down stairs — fore and aft — till the 
 blood spread freely to their extremities. The 
 
ICE BOUND. y 
 
 men grumbled a little at first, at what seemed 
 to them a useless expenditure of time ; but 
 they soon learned to like it, and used to romp 
 and laugh over their drill like boys playing 
 at soldiers. It is mere justice to Sidmouth to 
 mention, that, from that time till we sighted 
 England, only one man of his exercise 
 squad was ever ill, except from accidental 
 frost-bites — save one boy, James Parker, 
 who became despondent and afflicted with the 
 scurvy, being, as I always said, of small 
 stamina and sluggish in circulation. 
 
 We were now well wedged in for the winter 
 — the ice twenty inches thick, cut with ice- 
 saws all round the ship — an iceberg adjacent of 
 a dangerous height, hewn away level with the 
 ship's bulwarks — the awnings secured firmly 
 over the deck — the men's beds made perma- 
 nent, the hammocks stowed away, and every- 
 thing made close and snug — lastly, double win- 
 dows put in to the cabins and closed with felt 
 at the chinks. The third night after we had 
 determined to spend the winter in our present 
 
10 ICE BOUND. 
 
 quarters Captain Beaver said to us — I made 
 a note of his words at the time : — 
 
 " Gentlemen, God helping" (he was a pious 
 man, was Captain Beaver, of the Wesleyan 
 persuasion, as his father, I heard him say, had 
 been before him) — " Gentlemen, God helping, 
 we shall do very well here, if we can but keep 
 the men's hearts up." 
 
 And we all agreed to it ; for we well knew 
 that, once discouraged, the men would mutiny 
 and compel us to turn the ship's head to Eng- 
 land, to our eternal disgrace, and even pecu- 
 niary loss ; for the Admiralty had offered a 
 large reward to arctic discoverers, and we were 
 in an untrod region, as Captain Beaver and 
 Siderfm well knew; and if they did set sail, we 
 well knew, from the present state of the packs 
 and the early setting in of the Aurora, as well as 
 the peculiar colour of the ice-blinks, that the 
 ship would be beset, and in a few days crushed 
 to pieces by the icebergs that filled the chan- 
 nel, and grew larger and more dangerous at 
 the mouth. 
 
ICE BOUND. 11 
 
 Siderfin, suddenly looking up from the am- 
 bery glass of grog in which he was watching 
 the miniature reflection of his face, suggested 
 the erection of a theatre, and the performance 
 of plays twice a-week. 
 
 We agreed unanimously that nothing could 
 be better. The very next morning, indeed, we 
 fell to work, collected all the spare spars and 
 canvas, rigged up a new theatre, the very erec- 
 tion of which exhilarated the men and gave 
 them perpetual subjects for conversation; and 
 rummaging out " The Mayor of Garratt," 
 one of Foote's broad farces, and " Miss in her 
 Teens," an amusing, old-fashioned comedy, with 
 Fribble, a ridiculous, attenuated dandy in it 
 — conned our parts when we were on watch 
 (against rules), while Siderfin set to work 
 to paint the scenes, being an amateur artist 
 of no mean order. 
 
 It ^Ya3 a delightful thing to leave the deck, 
 and the ghastly glimmer of the ice-blink, over 
 perpetual snow, or the lurid semi-darkness 
 of noon- day, to enter a little cheerful lighted 
 
12 ICE BOUND. 
 
 room, a trifle warmer than the outer air, to 
 see Captain Beaver in the stage box, grand in 
 his full uniform, with which he always 
 honoured us — to find the pit full of hearty 
 grinning faces — and to hear the orchestra of 
 two violins and a trumpet begin their labour 
 with more energy than skill. 
 
 Well, all this went on with great spirit for 
 nearly two months ; then the theatre be- 
 gan to flag — merely because we had only 
 one torn volume of the "British Theatre" from 
 which to draw our repertory. The men 
 never got tired of the performers. The 
 performers never got tired of trying to amuse 
 the men ; but I, Siderfin, and Sidmouth, the 
 chief actors, felt, I confess, a little jaded with re- 
 peating the same words and gestures night after 
 night, and grew afraid that we should soon 
 cease to obtain that applause that, rolling 
 about like laughing thunder, had so long 
 kept us vigorous to our work. Siderfin, 
 a very wag always, went so far as to declare, 
 in our little green-room, the last week of our 
 
ICE BOUND. 13 
 
 performance, that he had taken careful note 
 of the yawns, and found them steadily on the 
 increase — from two on Monday to fourteen 
 on Thursday. The older hands began, too, to 
 sleep — and snore, which was worse ; alto- 
 gether it was evident, hurt our vanity as it 
 might, that the days of our Royal Arctic 
 Frozen-up Theatre were numbered. 
 
 That night was a sad one with us all. 
 Captain Beaver, who never talked much, and 
 was generally a real kind soul, in a sort of 
 reverie balanced his grog spoon, and sat in 
 rather a melancholy silence. The ship's boy 
 had just told him privately that there had 
 been grumbling round the galley-fire about 
 the cook having been punished for selling the 
 boatswain's mate salt grease that Siderfin had 
 denounced as likely to produce scurvy. 
 
 I at once suggested the starting a newspaper, 
 to be called "The Whaler's Journal, or the Ice- 
 berg Intelligencer," which Sidmouth was to 
 edit. The proposal instantly took. We had 
 an old cigar-box fitted up as a sort of lion's 
 
14 ICE BOUND. 
 
 mouth, to receive contributions. The several 
 articles — to which nearly every one contri- 
 buted, from worthy Captain Beaver himself 
 to the cabin boy, who wrote love songs in the 
 Yorkshire dialect — were all read, condensed, 
 revised, and annotated by the editor, 
 copied in a fair hand into a large quarto 
 volume, and then read every Saturday, after 
 evening grog, to the whole ship's company, 
 except the watch, with wonderful applause, 
 by Sidmouth, who had a good voice and 
 some degree of elocution, acquired from 
 certain early theatrical tastes. 
 
 This went on very well for six weeks, at 
 the end of which time an alarming tone of 
 personality began to pervade the paper, so 
 utterly subversive, as Captain Beaver thought, 
 of all discipline, especially in a time of special 
 need and emergency like the present, that he 
 instantly, though with relentless hand, sup- 
 pressed the paper, ordering all the last boxful 
 of contributions to be burnt, much to the secret 
 indignation and annoyance of all the crew, 
 
ICE BOUND. 15 
 
 particularly of the ship's cook, who had that 
 week perpetrated a sonnet to a certain 
 " Clarinda," bar-maid at a low tavern in Hull. 
 
 TTe were all of us now really at our wit's 
 end how to wile away the long evenings, and 
 keep the men's minds diverted and engaged, 
 without leading to any infringement of good 
 order. 
 
 Many a night on the watch, on deck, or 
 in my hammock, did I cast over any games 
 or amusements that could be practised by 
 many men at once. At last Siderfin, one night 
 after looking at the cabin-lamp for thirty min- 
 utes without removing his eyes, suddenly 
 leaped up, upset his grog, snapped his long 
 white pipe across his knee, flung the fragments 
 at a portrait of Lord Xelson that hung on the 
 cabin-door, and exclaimed, " I have it ! " 
 
 His plan, it seemed, was that anyone of us, 
 from the first lieutenant to the surgeon's assist- 
 ant, who had any taste for writing, should at 
 once set to and write by turns a short novel or 
 story, to be read aloud three times a week by 
 
16 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Sidmouth, so many chapters an evening, after 
 the tantalizing system adopted by the de- 
 lightful lady in the "Arabian Nights." 
 A Charles the Second story, an Egyptian 
 romance, some Welsh tales, and a novel 
 of the time of the Roman emperor Tiberius, 
 were instantly promised. Indeed, I have re- 
 marked that men who are in the habit of 
 scribbling much have always a wealth of 
 such trifles in store. We gave our authors 
 a week's " law," as people say when out 
 coursing, and then began our public readings, 
 which soon became exceedingly popular. I 
 might, were I sarcastic, say much more popular 
 than they deserved ; but then, remember that 
 the stories, if poor, were entirely original — 
 that our sailors had exhausted all other kinds 
 of amusement — and that the intervals between 
 the readings lent zest to the reading by 
 delaying the moment when the listener's 
 curiosity would be gratified. Many a time 
 when the men were at work of the afternoons, 
 drawing and knotting yarn, or making 
 
ICE BOUND. 17 
 
 points and gaskets, have I heard knots of 
 them criticizing the several stories with all 
 the keenness of young reviewers. 
 
 And here, before I come to my first story, 
 I may as well mention our hours on board ship 
 during this wintering in Hooper's Bay. All 
 hands were turned up at a quarter before six, 
 and the decks were then rubbed with stones 
 and warm sand till eight, when both officers and 
 men went to breakfast. At a quarter past 
 nine we beat to divisions, when the men (as 
 in Parry's expedition before) were in- 
 spected as to their personal cleanliness and 
 the warmth of their clothing. If the weather 
 was fine, the men then went on shore to walk 
 till noon, when they dined. 
 
 In the afternoon they drew and knotted 
 
 yarn on the lower deck ; at half-past five the 
 
 decks were cleared up ; at six we again went 
 
 to divisions, and inspected the men, their 
 
 berths, and bed-places; after which the people 
 
 went to their supper, and the officers to their 
 
 tea. 
 
 vol. i. c 
 
1 8 ICE BOUND. 
 
 It was after this pleasant meal that we 
 usually had our readings. On other evenings 
 the men danced or sung on the lower deck till 
 nine, when they went to bed, and the lights 
 were extinguished. Nor should I forget to 
 say that, for fear of fire, the quartermaster 
 visited the lower deck every half-hour, and 
 reported to the officers of their watch that 
 all was safe. We also, I may mention, during 
 the whole winter, kept a tank-hole cut in the 
 ice near the ship, and sawn out regularly twice 
 a- day. 
 
 With this proviso, I begin with my own 
 poor story, " The Madman's Novel." 
 
19 
 
 THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 
 (in two chapters.) 
 
 "Written by a Patient now confessed in Bethlem 
 Hospital. Published by kind permission of the 
 Governor. 
 
 The Governor of Bethlem's Certificate. 
 
 " This is to certify, that the MS. now 
 delivered by me into the hands of the pub- 
 lishers is the bona fide composition, and is 
 in the actual handwriting, of John Levison, 
 lunatic, a patient, No. 32, in B ward of 
 Bethlem Hospital, St. George's- in-the-Fields. 
 Levison, who is a journeyman printer, of 
 Banner Lane, St. Luke's, was apprehended 
 
 c 2 
 
20 ICE BOUND. 
 
 on the 4th of January, 1834, for threatening 
 his wife's life, and killing his infant child, aged 
 five years, in a fit of mania. Since he has 
 been under my care, his frenzies have gradu- 
 ally subsided into a belief that he is Gehazi, 
 the Wandering Jew, who, having struck our 
 Saviour on his way to Calvary, was doomed 
 to remain on earth till the Last Judgment. 
 Levison spends his whole time, when not walk- 
 ing in the long galleries or the airing grounds, 
 in writing out what he calls the story of his 
 various transmigrations. On most other sub- 
 jects he is quite sane. It is with his full 
 consent that I have handed over his MS. to 
 the publishers. 
 
 " Witness my hand, this 12th day of Au- 
 gust, 1836, 
 
 "George Castleton, Governor.'' 
 
 " Bethlem Hospital, 
 " St. George's-in-tlte-Fields." 
 
 Medical Certificate from the House- Surgeon. 
 " John Levison has been under my care six 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 21 
 
 months next Tuesday. His frenzy-fits have 
 quite subsided, and he now needs no restraint. 
 His eye is bright, no longer troubled and 
 restless — his tongue quite clean. With the 
 exception of an unshakable belief that he is 
 Gehazi, the Wandering Jew, and that he has 
 lived more than 1800 years, he is in the full 
 possession of his senses. His memory is good, 
 and his powers of combination and invention are 
 exceedingly active. I consider him, however, 
 as not in a fit state ever to be discharged, as 
 his brain must eventually undergo a softening. 
 " Signed by me, 
 
 " Edward Wilson, House-Surgeon. 
 
 " Betldem Hospital, 
 
 " St. George\s-in-the-Fields, 
 
 "August 12, 1836." 
 
 MS. 
 # * # * t 
 
 No, I didn't kill my child — no, no ! Oh ! 
 not that dark room where the fiery eyes grin 
 
 and stare ! Well, then, I'll be quiet, 
 
 keeper, and get to my paper and ink, as the 
 
22 ICE BOUXD. 
 
 governor told me ; for he is going to publish 
 to the world who I am, and all my lives — my 
 library of biographies — and then the King 
 will send for me, and I shall be dismissed 
 with honour — (ah ! to think of cheating so 
 that cold-eyed man ! — the fool, to be made a 
 governor !) 
 
 Poor dull materialist ! he sees no red hell 
 boiling down under the paving-stones of this 
 London. He knows of no golden heaven up 
 above the dark fogs that ever overshadow this 
 house of woe ! He will not believe that I, 
 John Levison, of Banner Lane, St. Luke's, 
 formerly of Blue Anchor Court, Rotherhithe 
 — first, groom in Sir Richard Dyce's family, 
 then bookbinder, and, lastly, journeyman- 
 printer at Clowes's, in Blackfriars — was once 
 Gehazi, the physician of the Street of the 
 Pomegranate, in the road leading to the 
 Golden Gate of the city of Zion. 
 
 No ! When I proclaim it in the airing- 
 grounds, these madmen all laugh and point 
 at me. The mad soldier, who was with the 
 
the madman's novel. 23 
 
 Bloody Half-Hundred in the Peninsula — 
 the old man, who swore he would take my 
 life — stark mad both — flout and mock me ! 
 And on dull cold days in the galleries, when 
 visitors' earnest faces are looking timidly 
 through the bars, and the mad painter is busy 
 at his canvas, and the mad tailor is shaping his 
 tinsel crown, I am ever the butt of the ward 
 because I icill talk of that dreadful noon, when 
 I came back from the plains of Jericho, and 
 met the bleeding wretch who I now know 
 was the Saviour — God in the flesh — the Mes- 
 siah of the prophets — 1800 years ago, and 
 no death — no death ! God ! hasten on the 
 Judgment, for this my punishment is greater 
 than I can bear ! 
 
 There, now — look at that old man : isn't 
 that a sight to make the angels weep ? Look 
 at him ! Like a new-caged bird against the 
 wires, how he beats against the bars of that 
 staircase window, one thin leg, warped and 
 shrunk, thrust out into the cool pure air, as 
 if even that poor freedom gave him hope and 
 
24 ICE BOUND. 
 
 life. But, then, he deserves it — he is raving 
 mad, and killed his old wife at Hackney ! 
 
 No, keeper, I didn't — don't drive me mad ! 
 I didn't stab the child ! Don't remind me of 
 it, for it cuts into my brain ! 
 
 How he clings to the bars, and never looks 
 up, though, laughing and merry, the gay 
 visitors, thoughtless and happy, pass him by 
 to gaze at the mad pilot, who believes he has 
 a glass head ! 
 
 It is enough though to disorder one's senses 
 to see this crowd of mad creatures, pacing all 
 day up and down, up and down these long, dull 
 galleries, with their fixed, hopeless looks, and 
 their pale, purgatorial faces — creatures without 
 a God, without hope, without memory, with a 
 fierce animal life latent in their eyes, the fire at 
 the brain and the load at the heart. This for 
 love, that for religion — A for ambition, B for 
 avarice — all very mad, and I, the only sane 
 one here ; for, let me say, the keepers are not 
 all of them right, and the governor's quite 
 cracked on some points. 
 
 But I must go write down my transmigrations 
 
the madman's novel. 25 
 
 — how I died and changed — that's what he 
 gave me this paper for ; I must begin with my 
 first life, my Jewish life ; and I will toil at it 
 as much as these groans and howlings will 
 let me, because I think that when the world 
 knows my story I shall be released at once 
 from this house of doom. I promised, too, to 
 have a chapter ready before the governor re- 
 turned, and the clock's now pointing to three. 
 I only wish I had a quiet room away from 
 these madmen over the cupola, or could get 
 into the porter's lodge in the portico ! Well 
 — 1820 years ago — well, well. 
 
 My Jewish Life. 
 
 Yes ; it was thus. 
 
 I was a physician in the street of the Pome- 
 granate, hard by the Golden Gate of Jerusalem, 
 that points to Damascus. My name was 
 Gehazi, the son of Phinehas, the son of Elkanah, 
 of the tribe of Benjamin. 
 
 I was sitting in my shop, three hours after 
 sun-rise, weighing out some spikenard, very 
 precious, when a meagre Arab, wearing a torn 
 
26 ICE BOUND. 
 
 cloak of camel's hair, and having a yellow 
 handkerchief fastened round his dusty hood, 
 entered, and hade me rise and come with him 
 a day's journey, to the city of palm-trees, 
 where his sheikh lay ill. 
 
 I, desirous to collect round that Jericho 
 specimens of the spider moss, very virtuous 
 against hites of the rock-scorpions, arose and 
 went, paying (with a curse underbreath) the 
 usual fine of thirty pence to the armed cen- 
 turion at the gate, for leaving the city before 
 noon. 
 
 And I said, looking up to Calvary hill, 
 " Soldier, what mean those three bare trees 
 yonder by the olive bushes on Mount Calvary — 
 are they fresh signal-posts for the hill country 
 forts?" 
 
 He insolently replied, " They are male- 
 factors' crosses, and are ready for the Jewish 
 dogs, who die to-morrow at the third hour." 
 
 "What !" I said, " has, then, some slave bro- 
 ken a Roman lady's fan, or have the carp in the 
 governor's tank been over-fed?" 
 
THE MADMAN S NOVEL. 27 
 
 "Neither of these," he said, showing his white 
 teeth, and dropping his spear with a jolt, for 
 he was a barbarian soldier, blue-eyed, and 
 from the Rhine country ; " the two are thieves 
 and murderers who stabbed a priest in the 
 outer court ; the third, I know not whom, a 
 mad preacher, who leads about idle fishermen, 
 and heals lepers, but does no special harm." 
 
 H Ay, some snake-charmer, perhaps," said I; 
 and, mounting my dromedary, passed quickly 
 down towards the brook Kedron, chanting a 
 psalm of jubilee, and thinking over the last 
 strange case of delirium, in that soldier of the 
 Dragon legion, who lodged in Mount Acra, and 
 had served in Egypt, and who believed that 
 he had seen a street beggar, one Barti- 
 mseus, a vagabond fellow, who lived among 
 the tombs, suddenly cured of blindness ; I 
 knowing him stone dark, with ten years red 
 ophthalmia, having dismissed him last Nisan 
 as incurable. 
 
 " Curse on these cut-throat Romans!" I 
 thought, " with their Mars, Romulus, their 
 
28 ICE BOUND. 
 
 taxes, and brutish idols ; still one good at least 
 we get from them, if we rid us of such dan- 
 gerous quacks as this street curer of the blind, 
 who retards our noble science of healing, and 
 draws the hard-earned pence from the foolish 
 poor, who kiss his feet, and despise us, the 
 true ministers of God." 
 
 Jericho being six hours' journey from Jeru- 
 salem, we had determined to rest at the spring 
 of Elisha, which is half-way between Beth- 
 Jamel and the doomed city where the Arab 
 lay ill. Our road, after we left the Valley 
 of the tombs, at the doors of some of which 
 the madmen hooted at us, passed between 
 patches of corn and sesame, and broken 
 slopes and water-courses, here and there shaded 
 with trees. Already the lower elevation of 
 the plain weighed upon us with a sense of 
 dull, feverish heat, so at noon we rested. 
 
 Who should suddenly meet me under the 
 terebinth tree but Bartimseus, the blind beggar, 
 his eyes still, as I expected, covered from the 
 glaring sun. As I approached be did not beat 
 
the madman's novel. 29 
 
 and shuffle with his stick, and gasp out a 
 salutation, but slowly cutting in two a melon, 
 asked me not for alms. 
 
 " Hail, Kabboni ! " he said. 
 
 "And who's this juggler who cures blind 
 men, Bartimseus the blind/' I said, half-angrily; 
 " I pray that the tree to make his cross be as 
 tall as this terebinth. Did I not often tell 
 thee that none but God could heal thee, 
 thou leper's godson?" 
 
 Bartimaeus answered quite calmly, and with 
 no frown or stamp — 
 
 " Thou saidst truly, none could heal me 
 but God ; and he, God, hath healed me." 
 
 As he spoke he pulled away his band- 
 age, and behold his eyes were whole as my 
 own ! " Blessed be Jesus ! " he shouted. Then 
 I cried, in the blindness of my heart, " Thou 
 filthy impostor, thou wert never blind, and this 
 is one of thy beggar's tricks, that will one 
 day bring thee to Herod's amphitheatre. 
 Smite him, Arab, with thy nebout ! " 
 
 And my Arab smote him ; but, without a 
 
30 ICE BOUND. 
 
 taunt or mock, the man cried, " Blessed be 
 the name of the Lord ! " and passed away 
 into the sun, his lips moving as if in prayer. 
 
 And I said again, being full of wrath, 
 " Run, Arab, after that beggar, and take away 
 his stolen melon, for he is a liar and a cheat !" 
 
 The Arab, with a cruel laugh, did so ; 
 but he said, " The beggar only cried, ' The 
 God who sent the ravens will send the beggar 
 food ! ' " Then I cursed him, and took my 
 meal, saying long graces, after the manner of 
 the Pharisees, knowing that the Arab wor- 
 shipped the Devil of the Moon, and knew not 
 the God of Israel. 
 
 We had long lost sight of Mount Moriah, 
 and what the Arab called " the Great Spirit's 
 house," from whence you can see Pisgah, 
 the hill country, and the great range of the 
 Dead Sea ; and we were descending that pebbly 
 mountain road, leading rapidly down into the 
 plain, where the silver trumpets had once 
 sounded so terribly. Every stone was to me 
 a monument, every rock a home of memory. 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 31 
 
 Below lay Gilgal, where the angel ap- 
 peared to Joshua ; there was the school of the 
 prophets ; yonder Samuel sat in judgment ; 
 there the first Passover was celebrated, after 
 our fathers passed the Jordan ; here Elijah 
 mounted in the burning chariot, that was 
 drawn by the horses of fire ; here, too, on the 
 sixth bridge, my father once smote the Philis- 
 tines, having left his plough in the furrow to 
 rally the chosen people in the pass of Bethoron. 
 I was feeling the pulse of my Arab guide 
 — for he had complained of a burning pain in 
 the chest, and his tongue was furred — when, at 
 a turning of the road, we met a litter, carried 
 by four people of Mauritania, having silver 
 bracelets on their black arms, and scarlet tur- 
 bans on their heads. Two young Copts be- 
 hind led each a hunting-leopard, while a third 
 carried an ape, with a gold collar round its 
 neck. Inside the litter reclined an unwieldy 
 Ptoman officer, far gone in dropsy, pale and 
 bloated, his flaccid fingers loaded with scara- 
 hcei rings, by which I knew him at once to be 
 
32 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Lucius Junius Bibo, Governor of Gaza, lately 
 Proconsul of Upper Egypt, but disgraced by 
 Tiberius for not having sent a sufficient num- 
 ber of hippopotami for the supply of the 
 Roman amphitheatre. He had lately written 
 to me for a talent's worth of Lemnian earth, 
 and I supposed he was on his way to visit 
 me at Jerusalem. 
 
 A blow from my Arab's ready nebout 
 stopped the insolent Moors, who would have 
 pushed us to the wall. I then advanced to 
 the litter, and, drawing the purple curtain, 
 announced myself as Gehazi, the son of Phi- 
 nehas. 
 
 The miserable debauchee did not even open 
 his pig eyes, but said, languidly, " I have 
 nothing for him. Bid him be gone, or loose 
 the Indian leopards." 
 
 " I am Gehazi, the physician of Jerusalem !" 
 I cried indignantly. 
 
 " What ? Jesus, the son of Joseph — the 
 great magician who cured the centurion's ser- 
 vant ? " he said, with a sigh of fatness. 
 
the madman's novel. 33 
 
 " No, Bibo ; but Gehazi, the great physician 
 of the Street of the Pomegranate." 
 
 " Then, for the love of Venus, let me sleep ; 
 for I want neither thee nor thy filthy Lemnian 
 earth, which is but the scrapings of Vulcan's 
 sandals, and only fit for Jews, or the poor 
 Cyrenian I threw it to at Bethlehem." 
 
 " My shekels, Roman ! " I exclaimed, " or 
 Caesar shall hear of it ! " then, exchanging ana- 
 themas, we passed on, the Moors shouting, 
 the leopards growling, and the ape chattering. 
 By heaven ! if I had had a spear, I would 
 have run the white-blooded sot through the 
 stomach, and have at once rid him of his life 
 and his disease ! 
 
 Determined to bring these religious cheats 
 before the notice of the Sanhedrim at Tiberias, 
 I rode moodily on, and, passing the huts of 
 Jericho, and the Bull Tower that Herod 
 erected to keep the Gideonites in check, I went 
 on an hour farther to the banks of the Jordan, 
 where the chief lay encamped. 
 
 Hills dotted with rare cypresses, black, 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 ICE BOUND. 
 
 silent, and untenanted by birds ; slopes 
 of thorny bushes, shallow water-courses, 
 already dry with the heat, led us at some 
 distance from the balsam fields for which this 
 district was renowned, down to the bed of the 
 Jordan : not the mere moving current of sand 
 that pours itself into the salt bitterness of 
 the Dead Sea ; but a swift and rapid river, at- 
 tended on its course by dense multitudes of 
 nepal, tamarisk, and plane trees, that crowd 
 down to its waters as if to do it homage. 
 Beyond the corn fields spread the rose laurels, 
 beyond these the acacias, the almond, and 
 the fig; on the higher ridges rose the 
 dwarf oaks and the box ; and below lay 
 these flowering thickets of oleander, where 
 the nightingale sang even at noon-day, its 
 nest trellised with the vine and the sedder 
 tree. 
 
 I forgot all my professional jealousy at the 
 sight of this land of milk and honey. The 
 lark sprang from the broad surfaces of the 
 corn, not yet brazen red in the rich ex- 
 
the madman's novel. 35 
 
 panses of full summer, and carolled to God a 
 psalm joyful and holy as that of the child 
 David beside the sheep-folds. The nightin- 
 gale answered it from the thicket, careless of 
 the wild beast, whose lair likewise is often 
 among the flowers. 
 
 All of a sudden my Arab turned a corner 
 of the path, and, shading his eyes from the 
 glare of the sun, uttered an exclamation of 
 amazement. He pointed and rubbed his 
 eyes; but I could see no black cone-like 
 tent, no blood-mare tied to a spear stuck 
 in the sand. There were no children swarm- 
 ing in the date trees, no playful kids 
 bleating round their dams. 
 
 " Here I left the Arab/' he said ; " and, 
 by the star Remphan, I know not whither 
 he is gone." 
 
 As we drew nearer, we could see the marks 
 of an encampment, the holes in the sand 
 where the spears had been, the trample 
 of hoofs, the marks of the tent pins, and 
 the black rings of the camp fires. 
 
 d2 
 
36 ICE BOUND. 
 
 While my Arab was applying his hand to 
 the gray ashes to see if they were still warm, 
 to ascertain how long his friends and the sick 
 chief had left — for he had now found prints 
 of camel hoofs in the direction of the Dead 
 Sea coast — in searching for the track I 
 came upon a man of a solemn and winning 
 countenance asleep under a wild fig-tree. 
 
 Rising calmly to his feet, he returned my 
 angry look with a solemn greeting, followed 
 by a long and enquiring look. 
 
 " As the cedar," said my Arab, reprovingly, 
 " loses none of its perfume by imparting it to 
 him who sits under its trunk, so does a man 
 lose no honour by courtesy to a stranger." 
 
 " A second Solomon/' I said, angrily ; for 
 the day's disappointment had disturbed my 
 temper by ruffling my pride. 
 
 " As we Arabs," he said again, paying no 
 heed to my annoyance at his composure, "care 
 not for the pearls, because they are not pulse, 
 and will not boil — so the Jew cares not for 
 those from whom he cannot bleed the shekels." 
 
the madman's novel. 37 
 
 " Son of the Edom horse-stealer," I said, 
 "is it not enough that thy chief must send 
 for me on this fool's errand, but thou too, 
 son of a dog, must mock me with thy foolish 
 sayings? Know that to kill thee were but 
 to me as to crush a scorpion on the wall;" and 
 I picked up a huge flint to stone the unbe- 
 liever. 
 
 Then he, leaping on my camel's throat, 
 more like a jackal than a man, raised his 
 club as if to brain me, his eyes flashing fire, 
 the veins swelling on his dark forehead ; but 
 suddenly calming himself, as if by force, he 
 lowered his knotted stick and addressed me : — 
 
 " Wretched weigher of poisons," he ex- 
 claimed, "I spare thee, that thou mayest yet 
 further diminish thy countrymen. An Arab 
 knows how to obey — I believe in destiny. If 
 our labour has been in vain, it is Remphan's 
 will, and he will have it so, in spite of all 
 the plaister-sellers in Judssa. Farewell, and 
 may the blessings of the evil angels, which 
 are curses, be with thee for ever ! " 
 
38 ICE BOUND. 
 
 So saying, the vile horse-stealer tumbled 
 me from the dromedary's back, threw my 
 bags of medicines and phials in the sand, and 
 galloped off at a rate incredible to any but 
 those who know the desert. 
 
 As I stood rubbing the dust from my robes, 
 and adjusting my sacred phylacteries, now ex- 
 amining my jars to see if any hellebore had 
 been lost, now opening a roll of amulet to see 
 if the precious snake-stone of Lyene were safe, 
 the sleeper whom I had disturbed gravely 
 accosted me. 
 
 " Gehazi, son of Elkanah," he said, " be 
 not troubled, for God has laid his hand on 
 the Edomite, and he has returned to his own 
 land." 
 
 " Who art thou ? " I exclaimed, feeling 
 my pulse as I spoke, to see to what high 
 degree of fever my temporary rage had 
 thrown me, by the same token — my pulse 
 beat quick and thumping, 85 at least. 
 
 " I am Lazarus of Bethany, endowed with 
 the power of healing by Jesus of Nazareth." . 
 
the madman's novel. 39 
 
 " From whom?" I said; for I trembled 
 with rage, to think that I saw another of 
 that itinerant's disciples, and I, tired and 
 travel-worn, to return to Jerusalem, the 
 mock of the whole street, and perhaps to 
 be suspected of treason by Pilate himself; 
 looking at him closer, I remarked red marks 
 round his wrists, which were thin and long, 
 as if marked by Eoman manacles. " Thou art 
 some runaway from the galleys at Joppa, and 
 art only food for the boatswain's whip." 
 
 " These marks," he said, " are from no 
 felon's chain — they are the marks of the grave- 
 clothes of Bethany, from which I was loosed 
 but a week since." 
 
 " Ah ! a madman," I thought to myself, 
 strayed from the tombs, and afraid of being 
 beaten for stealing sycamore fruit in the val- 
 leys — a likely story ; so I, to humour him, 
 asked who, forsooth, raised him from the 
 dead. 
 
 And he replied, " Jesus of Nazareth, he who 
 healed Bartimoeus, the servant of the Cen- 
 
40 ICE BOUND. 
 
 turion — He, the Redeemer, the God manifest 
 in the flesh." 
 
 "Out, madman!" I cried, and turned my 
 face to return to Jerusalem. " Any poor priest 
 of Egypt can cure by stroke and touch. 
 As I am a Pharisee, I swear the grave of 
 this Jesus shall soon be in Hinnom, and his 
 father's house he made a by-word in Israel. " 
 
 " Come, Gehazi, share my meal, and rest, for 
 it is the passover," said Lazarus, sitting down 
 and drawing a handful of Carob-pods, dates, and 
 dried locusts from his wallet, as a substitute 
 for the roast lamb and bitter herbs. 
 
 " I will eat with no madman!" I exclaimed; 
 and, turning, strode away in the direction of 
 Jericho. There I resolved to hire a mule, 
 and start back to Jerusalem before daybreak, 
 intending to remain outside the walls till 
 sunset, and then, bribing a legionary, to steal 
 into my house unobserved. 
 
 But I had not got many paces from the 
 black rings of ashes on the sand, when my foot 
 caught in the branch of a thorny creeper, that 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 41 
 
 had crawled out of the path from a neigh- 
 bouring thicket, and I fell heavily on my head, 
 and lay insensible. What star was over me 
 I know not, but so it was, and I conceal 
 nothing. My sapphire ring, the Samaritan 
 told me, would preserve me from bruise and 
 fall ; but they are liars, all these Samaritans, 
 and nothing but the steel bleeder and the 
 cautery of fire will ever cure them. 
 
 When I came to myself I was sitting 
 under a mimosa tree, the fresh shadow falling 
 on me with gracious coolness, for the sun's 
 golden arrows cannot pierce the broad tar- 
 get of its dark boughs. Across the hot sun, 
 without the magic circle of the dusk, the 
 sand lizards shot quick as the shuttles of the 
 silk weavers of Damascus On the broad 
 purple disks of the stone-thistles near me 
 the bees fretted and fed. I lay with my 
 bleeding head in the lap of some one whom 
 I could not raise myself to gaze at. 
 
 I painfully lift my eyes — it is Lazarus 
 watching me, not with scorn or anger, but 
 
42 ICE BOUND. 
 
 as I have seen a shepherd of Nazareth watch 
 a lamb torn by a beast of the wood. Not 
 conscious that my senses had returned, I 
 watched him as he looked fixedly at a jezboa 
 that fed behind us on a distant sand-hill. He 
 speaks — I can hear his words. 
 
 " Do good to those that despitefully use 
 you and persecute you ; by so doing thou 
 shalt heap coals of fire upon his head." 
 
 " Are those the words of the Arab poet, 
 Ibn Mejnoun," I asked with kinder voice, 
 rising and brushing the dust from my saffron- 
 coloured robe as I spoke. 
 
 " They are the words of Jesus of Nazareth," 
 he replied. 
 
 " Eaca!" I exclaimed — "yet they are good 
 words, and worthy of a better man. Had 
 Eleazar the High-Priest, or Ananias the chief 
 scribe, uttered them, I had held them worthy 
 of a place even in the book of the law." 
 
 " Talk not of the Master and such as 
 Eleazar and Ananias in the same breath," said 
 Lazarus, with a look of horror. " The Lord, 
 
the madman's novel. 43 
 
 who is a searcher of hearts, knows that one 
 is a corrupter of virgins, and another the 
 worshipper of idols. Did not one, the third 
 day of last Abib, purchase of thee one 
 drachm of the white powder of Chios, and 
 the other, on the calends of first month, a 
 pound of the narcotic gum of Egypt?" 
 
 I started, and he proceeded: — 
 
 " All their crimes has God revealed to me ; 
 yet you still doubt that I have power from 
 heaven. Let these signs be witnesses to thy 
 hard and stony heart, for God has sent me to 
 thee." 
 
 As he spoke Lazarus stood erect, and raised 
 his hands to heaven ; then, drawing a handful 
 of dates from his goat-skin wallet, and step- 
 ping into the sunlight, he flung them into the 
 hot and burning air, which now, though past 
 noon, seemed to quiver and pulse, and almost 
 ready to burst into a consuming flame. 
 
 " In the name of God ! " he said ; the 
 golden fruit, already falling, turned at once 
 into a cluster of song-birds, and soared up 
 
44 ICE BOUND. 
 
 into the burning azure of the sky, singing as 
 they rose far out of sight, a white cloud, 
 swooping down, seeming to receive them into 
 its soft bosom. 
 
 "Very wonderful !" I said; "but such 
 tricks are common in the Arab tents, where, 
 to win the sesterces of travellers, they cut off 
 a child's head, and restore him again to life; 
 pour out many-coloured sands from the same 
 clay amphora ; or make a palm-shoot in a 
 few minutes spring up and bear fruit. Such 
 tricks cheat the wise man's eye, but not his 
 reason. He knows that what the peasant fool 
 thinks magic is but a shrewd man's observa- 
 tion of some concealed law. Look here ! 
 Here in my pouch is a dead weed — dead 
 these 30 years ; for my father — and he's dead 
 — picked it up by the Red Sea shore. I put 
 it in the water, and it blooms into the rose 
 of Jericho. Look — see ! This dry, shrivelled 
 seed, 4,000 years old, found in the jaw of a 
 mummy king at Edfou, I plant it, and lo ! 
 in two months a green shoot, the promise of 
 
the madman's novel. 45 
 
 a latent fruit. I have in these bags gems 
 that guard the wearer from fire and steel, 
 stones that attract iron, and moss that grows 
 in the crystal ; yet I claim not to be a god, 
 nor yet a juggler." 
 
 " Well said," exclaimed a voice from be- 
 hind a tamarisk bush ; and the next moment 
 stepped out to us an African snake-charmer, a 
 mocking grin on his mouth, a laughing malice 
 in his eyes. I did not then know he was 
 one of the possessed. 
 
 " The gentleman with the hollow eyes here, 
 by the good Typhon of the Cataracts, makes 
 too much of his pretty sleight-of-hand. Why, 
 sirs, such tricks wouldn't get a man bread in 
 the forum at Rome, though they do very well 
 for the beggarly wildernesses of this accursed 
 land. I and my snakes here, (and, as he spoke, 
 he pulled two hissing reluctant vipers from a 
 box that was slung round his neck by a chain 
 of ebony and ivory beads) are almost starving 
 for want of audiences in this glum country, 
 where nothing goes down but preaching and 
 
46 ICE BOUND. 
 
 overreaching. If I were Caesar, I would turn 
 the country into a breeding-ground of beasts 
 for the amphitheatre, and, save your worships, 
 sell all the beggarly chosen of God in the 
 Alexandrian slave-markets. Talk of tricks — 
 why, look here, and Beelzebub take your 
 dates, that are too good to send flying away 
 like that." 
 
 As he spoke, the African suddenly drew a 
 dagger from a fold of his belt of lion's-skin, 
 and plunged it into his body. The blood 
 spouted from the wound ; he fell heavily on 
 the sand. I, who knew all signs of death — 
 the heaving chest, choking breath, glazing 
 eye, quivering lip — said the snake-charmer 
 was dying, and threw myself down beside the 
 body, calling Lazarus, who stood by calm 
 and unmoved. 
 
 " Wretch ! " I said, " wilt thou let the 
 man bleed to death, and look on as if he were 
 a mere frog some camel's hoof has crushed ? M 
 
 What seemed to me a slight smile passed 
 over the features of Lazarus as I spoke. In 
 
THE MADMAN'S XOYEL. 
 
 my wrath, forgetting my bruises, I sprang 
 upon the man of Bethany, and would have 
 struck him to the ground ; but at that mo- 
 ment the apparently dying man leaped from 
 the ground, with a laugh that was hoarse and 
 grating, and seemed to convulse only his 
 mouth. It was the laugh of the intellect, and 
 not of the heart. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " he said, " what a triumph for 
 poor Ozan the snake-charmer, to deceive the 
 great physician of the Street of the Pomegra- 
 nate — and all with a false parchment belly 
 and a cupful of chicken's blood ! " 
 
 My rage at the smile of Lazarus, now 
 widening over his face, gave me invention. 
 I turned the juggler's trick into an argument 
 against the miracles of Christ, who, I heard, 
 called us Pharisees — a generation of vipers. 
 
 " This fool," I said, turning to the snake- 
 charmer, who was feeding his snakes with 
 scraps of raw chicken's flesh, " declares that 
 he has just been raised from the dead by one 
 Jesus of Nazareth. " 
 
48 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " By the god Nilus ! but that beats the lie 
 that was so big it took two Grecians to utter 
 it. Why, by Caesar the divine, and Jupiter 
 Tonans too — and that's a big oath — the 
 fellow would make his fortune story- telling in 
 the tents of Wadymousa — ah — ah ! Why, 
 man," he shouted, slapping Lazarus on the 
 back, " I'll give thee sixpence a-day to carry 
 my snakes, and tell lies about these pagans, 
 while I play the double-pipe or the scabellus." 
 
 " Son of Shem," said Lazarus, " even the 
 beggar cannot feed on carrion." 
 
 " I don't know anything about carrion, or 
 begging either," said the vagrant ; " but as 
 for Son of Shem — as you Jews call the Psylli, 
 and those tribes beyond Mauritania — I am no 
 such, but honest Junius Simio of the Suburra, 
 who learnt snake-charming at Denderah when 
 an eagle-bearer of the 10th Legion. Behold ! " 
 and, with a scrap of some Roman tragedy, the 
 merry scoundrel, who I found afterwards had 
 just stolen my girdle, made a grimace, threw 
 himself into a mime's attitude, and pulled off a 
 
the madman's novel. 49 
 
 curly wig, which showed his short black hair 
 underneath, and the light brown of the upper 
 part of his forehead, where the umber-dye had 
 not touched the skin. 
 
 " But lookee here, friend," he said, turning 
 to Lazarus ; " as this wise son of iEsculapius 
 seems to doubt thy mission — and, by the 
 snake-rod of Mercury, I think very justly — 
 give him, I pray thee, a further proof of thy 
 wonder-working power — (see his colour go ! " 
 under voice to me). " I have here, in a small 
 camel-hair bag, a horned asp, bought by me 
 this morning from an Egyptian merchant, who 
 had found it in a bale of papyrus. It is 
 extremely deadly, for I have not yet taken out 
 its fangs, and its bite killed a child yesterday 
 in fourteen minutes. (How the fellow is 
 taken aback ! By the god Momus, but 
 this beats the Troy games of the Campus !) 
 And here, as a spur to thy somewhat waning 
 courage, take a draught of this pure Chian 
 from my calabash." 
 
 Lazarus replied, " I will abide the creature's 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 ICE BOUND. 
 
 bite, but I will take no wine, for I am a 
 Nazarene." 
 
 " By Jove above, these Jews will kill me 
 with laughing ! No pork, no wine, always 
 fasting, lamb and hyssop, bread without leaven, 
 bare temples without images and pretty priest- 
 esses — no Bacchus ! no Venus ! Well, now 
 then for the little fellow with the teeth like 
 lancets, that gives the pain that requires no 
 doctor. (What shall we do with the fool's 
 body?) The story'll make my fortune, by 
 Komulus ! (But the fellow will be running : 
 if he does, knock him down and throw him to 
 the Jordan). Now — one, two, three — curse 
 the knot ! Gentlemen, take your seats ; the 
 play's a-going to begin." 
 
 The fellow undid the bag in which the 
 asp coiled and struggled, and, with a jerk, 
 threw the snake into the hands of Lazarus, 
 which were outstretched placidly to receive it. 
 The instant that the strange man of Bethany 
 received the reptile, it rose, with its distended 
 hood and fiery eyes, and bit him through the 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 51 
 
 finger ; not heeding the pain or the venom, 
 the man stooped and picked it up, and 
 holding it up to his face by the head, looked 
 it earnestly in the eyes. Before that gaze 
 the creature seemed to lose its malignity. It 
 closed its eyes as if wounded, and, then 
 sliding from his hand, fell on the sand, and 
 gliding off, was just entering in a jerboa hole, 
 when a shirike, bearing down from a neigh- 
 bouring clump of thorny acacia trees, bore it 
 off in its beak. 
 
 " There go my hundred pence ! " said the 
 snake-charmer, wringing his hands. " Oh, 
 my pence, my pence ! Curse on the asp, 
 and the Jew, and the Egyptian, and the mad- 
 man, and the doctor ! Curses on myself 
 for wasting my time in such a land as the 
 Jews' ! But, Sol, here's revenge ! Ten mi- 
 nutes and the poison works; then, a clean 
 robe and a fresh shirt, and I'm off to Magdala, 
 for there's no money to be turned here. 
 Curses on the bird ! the asp that cost me 
 100 pence — hard pence — 100 pence this very 
 
52 ICE BOUND. 
 
 morning. Well, how do you feel, Jew ? — bitter 
 taste in the mouth, eh ? — eyes hot, tongue 
 parched, pulse quicker — then dry ? Nothing ! 
 Why, the man knows the secret then, and has 
 virtue ; for I saw the fangs go in, and there 
 are the three black marks on his ring finger ! " 
 
 But the sequel may be easily foreseen. The 
 poison had no power over Lazarus ; and, 
 uttering his blessing and prayer for our belief 
 in the one Saviour of mankind, he left us, 
 and passed on towards Edom, the snake- 
 charmer insisting on following so great and 
 good a man, whom Zeus himself must have 
 endowed with the power of working miracles. 
 
 I, hiring a mule at a small village near the 
 banks of the Jordan, where I slept, returned 
 by early morning within sight of Jerusalem ; 
 then, dismissing my guide and beast, I 
 proceeded to wait for sunset, that I might 
 enter the city unobserved, still enraged at all 
 jugglers, cheats, and despisers of the law. 
 
 It was about noon that I reached the foot 
 of the Valley of Jehoshaphat ; and, watching 
 
the madman's novel. 53 
 
 first the mule grow to a mere speck against 
 the horizon, turned into a narrow path, lead- 
 ing to the rock-tomb of a friend, at whose 
 interment I had only the Tuesday before been 
 present. I looked up at the mouth of the 
 cave : it was dark and still as an entrance to 
 Hades. In its cool depth of shadow I deter- 
 mined then to wait for sunset. 
 
 Over the stone of the portal was cut — 
 
 " Here, in the arms of eternal sleep, as in a bride's, lies 
 Thothmes. Envy him not, for thou too shalt one day 
 sleep in those arms."' 
 
 For my friend was an Egyptian merchant, an 
 Epicurean and a Sadducee, who believed not 
 the resurrection. 
 
 " Here, then," I pondered to myself, " lies 
 a clay mould in which Jehovah ran the pre- 
 cious fiery essence of the soul ; here, to be 
 corroded by damp and heat, to be gnawed by 
 worms and vile insects, lies that body that 
 loved and hated ; that lay in the mother's 
 bosom, and the harlot's lap ; that trod down 
 the enemy, and succoured the friend ; all here 
 
54 ICE BOUND. 
 
 sealed up in a cavern, far from sun and 
 light, to await the great change ; while the 
 poor earth, once so nursed and pampered, 
 passes into flower or star, into cloud or sea." 
 
 I was pursuing these reveries, which every 
 man who has stood by a grave must have felt 
 — a feeling of humiliation mixed with that 
 internal kindle of brain and heart which 
 comes at such moments, like an angel voice 
 assuring us of immortality — when a low sound, 
 from a passage leading to the tomb chamber, 
 roused my attention, and filled me at once 
 with alarm and dread. Legends of the vam- 
 pire spirit that animates the dead thronged 
 into my mind. Fear of personal danger, too, 
 bade me remember that the outlaws of Judea, 
 and slaves living the cross, sometimes sought 
 refuge in these houses of death and corrup- 
 tion. 
 
 Before I had time to think even of flight, 
 a tall gaunt form, swathed in white grave- 
 clothes, strode suddenly out of the dark into the 
 path of golden light that the sun cast through 
 
the madman's novel. 55 
 
 the doorway. The face was that of a corpse, 
 the forehead was bound with a napkin, while 
 the jaw was tied up loosely with a cloth ; the 
 shrivelled arms, white and rigid, had escaped 
 from the swathings ; the nails were like claws, 
 the lips were livid. 
 
 "I am Thothmes!" cried the figure; "I 
 am the King of the Scarabcei and the Croco- 
 diles. I ride on the fiery-flooded wind of the 
 desert, and chase all night Death, who flies 
 before me on his great black camel. Ho ! 
 thou Spirit of the Pyramid, with the gold 
 crown, the scalped skull, and the emerald 
 eyes ! Ho ! thou Spirit of the Rock-temple, 
 where the mummies of the two Arsinoes wait 
 for the sound of the golden bells of the dead ! 
 Dancing girls ! come to Thothmes, for he calls 
 ye ! I am the prince of the skeletons of 
 the desert ; the genii of the poison-flower of 
 the Thebaid know my voice, and so do Moses 
 and the Prophets. Lash the reeds, waves of 
 the Red Sea ! Tear them as the river-horse 
 does the spears, or the sea-wolf the net ! 
 
56 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Tear the palm trees, salt winds of Sodom ! 
 for I am Thothmes, prince of the dark 
 house ! " 
 
 Then, seeing me, the half-starved demoniac 
 — for such I now perceived the unhappy being 
 to be — exclaimed — 
 
 " And who art thou ? What ! Baal— the 
 god whose crown is the sun, his weapon 
 the rainbow, and his arrows the lightnings ? 
 — or Kimmon, who rides on the earthquake, 
 whose chase-hounds are the white leprosy 
 and the black pestilence ? Embrace me, 
 dead king ; for I am Thothmes, prince of the 
 skeletons of the desert ; I live on the fat 
 night air and the Dead Sea vapours that slay 
 the shepherd ! " 
 
 So saying, he leaped on me, winding his 
 bony arms round my neck ; but the moment 
 he pressed his cold lips against my burning 
 forehead, and before I could escape from his 
 noisome breath, or the clammy chill of his 
 emaciated body, he had sprung back with a 
 howl of rage and astonishment. 
 
the madman's novel. 57 
 
 " Avaunt ! " he cried. " No cavern devil 
 this is, nor fiery Moloch, nor golden 
 stony cold Baal ! but a living man, with 
 a live moving heart in his bosom — 
 no blue mould of corruption on his 
 cheek, but warm rose-paint on his flesh. 
 What has he to do in the tomb, which is the 
 dead king's own — Thothmes' own ? — he who 
 bought it with sobs and death-rattles, and a 
 phial full of tears ; giving up for his dark 
 dominion, wife, and love, and home ! " Then, 
 foaming at the mouth, he seized me by the 
 throat, and tried to strangle me with a band 
 of his shroud. 
 
 Grappling each other — I with a despair that 
 lent me strength, the madman with a frantic 
 fury that his feeble body rendered almost im- 
 potent — we reached the door of the cave ; we 
 rolled struggling down the sandy bank ; we 
 tumbled in a watercourse, down whose dry 
 pebbles we fought and jostled — he trying to 
 blind me by thrusting his thumbs into my 
 eyes, I trying to stab him in the throat with 
 
58 ICE BOUND. 
 
 my iron writing stylus, which luckily I kept 
 hung in a case by my tablets in my girdle. 
 
 " Help I" he cried, " for Thothmes, prince 
 of the skeletons of the desert ! " and he 
 foamed at the mouth, " help, vultures of the 
 clouds ! — help, asps of the sand holes ! — 
 help ye the dead against the living, for I am 
 brother of the great crowned Vampire of 
 Gomorrah ! " 
 
 Already I was at the edge of a steep rock, 
 down which the madman would have certainly 
 hurled me, when, at once, through the dust 
 and glare and heat, I felt a strong hand tear 
 us apart, and drive the madman stunned to 
 the irround with the blow of the butt-end of 
 a short Roman sword. 
 
 " Why, Gehazi," said a horseman, whom at 
 once I knew as a Greek freedman of the 
 Governor's — one Conon, a wily, quick-witted, 
 vivacious Athenian, whom I had once saved 
 from the hot clutch of a Syrian fever — 
 " what drives you from the herb-furnace, and 
 Charon's vintage in the Fomegranate Street, 
 
tiie madman's novel. 59 
 
 to ramble out here and fight with demoniacs 
 among the tombs ? Is this a patient who has 
 come to life again, to have his revenge for all 
 the blood and minae you drained from him ? 
 or did some rare grave-balsam lure you from 
 your drugs and amulets? " 
 
 I told him my story, and he laughed till he 
 grew red ; all the time, however, employing 
 himself in binding the madman's hands, and 
 attaching them to his stirrup. " What ! — 
 thou, learned doctor, to be gulled by a vulgar 
 cheat and a snake-charmer ! Why, the poorest 
 galley-slave at the Piraeus could take in you 
 Jews. Though you are so fierce and proud — 
 but there — there — no hot reply : Zeus didn't 
 make all men Greeks, and Hermes be thanked 
 for it ; for if all beasts were lions, what food 
 would be left us men ? But now — quick, doc- 
 tor — mount behind me ; for, at a turn of the 
 road, a light Gallic car waits for us — the 
 Governor's wife is ill at ease, and needs your 
 help. I was bid fullow thee even to Jericho ; 
 the Governor has been fearing a sedition 
 
60 ICE BOUND. 
 
 of your countrymen, and all the Dragon 
 legion are under arms, as well as three com- 
 panies of our Spanish horse. By the hair of 
 Berenice — and that's a star — there is no hopes 
 of lettered ease in this dismal city, where to 
 go out after nightfall is to ensure a Jewish 
 knife in your liver, if you don't march wrapped 
 all over in Spanish steel. Only last night 
 Zoe sends me a scented billet. I go out at 
 the appointed hour ; my steel must needs 
 shine — a coat made of moon-mirrors — and 
 I am stopped by a sentinel, who thinks I must 
 be Herod himself in disguise, or the rogue 
 Barabbas again, fresh from the plunder of a 
 palace." 
 
 "What has become of that Barabbas?" said I. 
 
 " Barabbas, why he was taken last calends, 
 for carelessly bleeding a young knight at the 
 door of the temple, and was to have been 
 crucified to-day at noon; but Pilate, wishing 
 to be talked of by the rabble, releases him, 
 for he is a pet in the cook shops, and crucifies 
 in his stead one Jesus, a street preacher, who 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 61 
 
 has been exciting some idle fishermen of 
 Galilee to leave their honest labour and take 
 to the word-nets of the philosopher. Poor 
 silly men! but they must be made an ex- 
 ample, for he calls himself King of the Jews, 
 and has deceived many. The poor man's 
 companions were Eufus and Simon — the one 
 a horrid snake-eyed villain, for poisoning his 
 master, a vile tax-collector of Samaria; and 
 the other for the far worse crime of breaking 
 off the head of an image of our blessed 
 Emperor Tiberius, the one that is to be placed, 
 by the order of Sejanus, in the inner court of 
 the Temple, and sticking on it a satyr's." 
 
 " Never," I said, " while Zebulon and Gad 
 can lift a spear." 
 
 " No treason, friend Doctor, for learned men 
 do sometimes mount that tree without leaves." 
 
 I could scarcely, I confess, contain my joy, to 
 hear of the punishment of that man of Nazareth. 
 
 .jfr. Jg. M. Jt ."- 
 
 *7v* TT TT ^P W 
 
 We were just entering the gate of Judg- 
 ment, as the portal was called, by which pii- 
 
62 ICE BOUND. 
 
 soners were led outside the walls to execution, 
 I was in trouble, for I had not eaten yes- 
 terday of the Passover, nor offered up my four- 
 teen prayers, according to the laws of Rabbi 
 Shareza, when the challenge of the sentinel 
 and the ring of his grounded spear compelled 
 me to dismount from my car and await a 
 cavalcade, which was slowly approaching 
 up the steep and unpaved street. A coxcomb 
 in the guard-house put down "Apicius de Re 
 Coquinaria," and looked languidly out, coaxing 
 his scented hair, and playing with the scale 
 straps of his coat of mail. With a sickly 
 drawl, which implied the languor of the 
 debauchee, he hummed one of Anacreon's 
 voluptuous songs, as he pointed out the crimi- 
 nals to a brother officer, who was examining 
 a sapphire ring through the light of a looped 
 window. 
 
 " Oh, that!" said he, " is Joshua, or Jesus, 
 a Xazarene, who tried to make himself king, at 
 least so a Pharisee told me, for I don't know 
 a word of their Hebrew jargon — disgusting 
 
the madman's novel. 63 
 
 language. That other is the gladiator, Rufus, 
 a fellow all scars and gashes — one who kills 
 a lion in two blows, but has been fool enough 
 to poison a greater rascal than himself — so 
 to the cross with him; and that rogue 
 Barabbas got off. Well, so the world wags — 
 for one the hook and the stairs, for another 
 the purple and the nard." 
 
 " I will wait here," I thought, " and see 
 this preaching cheat, to give him the Satan's 
 blessing, which is a curse, and the Devil's 
 gift, which is a blow;" for I hated him to my 
 heart, and my heart was black with envy, 
 and my blood boiling for revenge for yester- 
 day's vexations, dangers, and delusions — I, 
 who would in my better moments lift the fly 
 from the water-jug, and labour to keep the 
 night moth from my study-lamp. How this 
 envy corrupts the heart. 
 
 There was one blast of the horn, as a 
 centurion, reining his horse of the Pannonian 
 plains, came leading on a procession of 
 spearmen and shouting rabble, who flung 
 
64 ICE BOUND. 
 
 stones and mud at the three prisoners, who 
 were toiling in a burning sun under the weight 
 of their crosses, with all the cruelty with 
 which the dregs of a city always hunt down 
 the victim of the hour. 
 
 I could see for a moment the angry up- 
 turned faces, laughing, grimacing, sneering. 
 I could hear the shouts of " Hail, King of 
 the Jews!" as an idiot-prince whom they drove 
 before them waved his reed and robe in 
 mockery of the Xazarene. 
 
 Yes, I had only eyes for him. I expected 
 to see a brazen-faced, bull-necked demagogue 
 of the market-place, like the Egyptian that had 
 led out into the wilderness 4000 men, who 
 were murderers to a man, a fellow with a 
 voice like a wild beast, a sensual lip, and 
 half-shut cruel eves ; but I beheld a face as 
 of an angel, pale and wrung with suffering, 
 stained with blood from the crown of thorns 
 that a brute butcher of the Lower Market had 
 thrust with a curse upon his head, his eyes 
 languid, but pure and bright, with a super- 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 65 
 
 natural light, as he bent under the weight of 
 a ponderous wooden cross, that made even the 
 soldiers whisper in pitj. And on either side of 
 him, singing vile songs, and cheering one an- 
 other, with curses and execrations and jests 
 about fighting Charon for his fare, came the 
 thief and the gladiator. 
 
 But at that moment I felt no pity, I re- 
 joiced to see the pain of the smooth-faced 
 impostor, as I deemed him, and, pushing for- 
 ward through the soldiers, I struck him on 
 the half-naked back, still red with the lashes. 
 He turned, and in a low voice said — 
 
 " Tarry thou till I come." 
 
 And as the centurion shouted to push on — 
 for it was past the ninth hour — I fell back 
 in a swoon ; I felt the judgment was upon 
 me, and that it was indeed the Son of God. 
 As I fell, I heard a soldier say, "Kun to 
 the barrack for the myrrh and the wine ; and 
 mind and bring the dice, for his robe is with- 
 out a seam, and worth a good penny ;" and 
 the last object I remember seeing was a boy 
 
 VOL. i. F 
 
66 ICE BOUND. 
 
 running past rae with a roll of parchment, and 
 on it was written, " The King of the Jews ! " 
 And when I woke and looked up, a great 
 darkness was over the sky, veined with bars 
 of fire ; but, against a lingering sickly white- 
 ness to the east, where the skull-place rose, I 
 could see three tall black crosses ; and as I 
 rose to go home, a centurion rode slowly by 
 up the street, and I heard him say to a com- 
 panion, " Yes ! truly this was the Son of 
 God I" A crowd of women passed me, weeping, 
 as I went home. I was immortal, and I was 
 accursed ; but I bore no brand like Cain. 
 Doomed, I felt, to inhabit an endless series of 
 bodies, and to survive all love and hope — na- 
 tion and home — wife and children ! To me 
 death was to bring no respite from suffering, 
 no rest from care and pain, no opiate for sor- 
 row, no balm for grief. The Messiah of my 
 people had come, and I had spurned him, as I 
 might have done a beggar in the street ! Then 
 
 I WAS FOR EVER ACCURSED ! 
 
67 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MY LIFE AT ROME. 
 
 It was a cloudless day in August, when, just 
 at the fourth hour, our Alexandrian spice 
 vessel, the Canqpus, put into the bay of 
 Naples. I, a prisoner, sent to Tiberius by 
 order of the Procurator, Pilate, on suspicion 
 of being more than half a Christian, ran up 
 from the cabin, at the sound of a cry that 
 made me at first think some disaster had hap- 
 pened to the ship. 
 
 My first astonishment at the beautiful bay 
 — " the mirror of Venus," as a poet on board 
 called it — blue and golden, as alternately the 
 sunbeam stretched out its golden sceptre over 
 
 I 2 
 
68 ICE BOUND. 
 
 it, or the shadow fell on it cool and dark — was 
 soon dissipated by my greater surprise at 
 seeing the whole crew, grim captain and bluff 
 sailors — even the fat flute-player we used to 
 laugh at — all standing on the poop clothed in 
 long white robes, and crowned with garlands, 
 shouting with one voice, " By you we live ! " 
 I saw that every eye was turned on the pur- 
 ple awning of a ten-oared Liburnian galley, 
 whose parti-coloured sails and gilded gunwale 
 rendered it conspicuous, as belonging to some 
 Roman of high rank. With a burst of flutes 
 and horns, its great gilded oars began sud- 
 denly to move, as if animated by one common 
 impulse of motion, as the brilliant vessel flew 
 glittering past us over the waters towards Baiae. 
 
 " By Plutus, how it shines ! " said a Syrian 
 money-lender. 
 
 " She skims the waves resplendent as the 
 vessel in which Paris bore away his Helen," 
 said the poet. 
 
 " And what use," said a rough Epirote 
 ail or, " are such gimcracks ? A good strong 
 
the madman's novel. 69 
 
 Cilician beak would go smash into them, and 
 break them up like so many sea-biscuits. 
 Give me good oak plank, with a streak of red 
 cinnabar, or something of that sort, that'll 
 stand the lash and the roll of the sea-lions off 
 Calpe." 
 
 " Is that a Consul's galley ? " I said to one 
 of the revellers, whose rose crown had just 
 blown into the water. 
 
 " Consul ?" said the fellow, angrily. " Bless 
 the Jew ! — why, it is the holy Tiberius him- 
 self; and surely he is a god, if ever there 
 was one." 
 
 "Now, look here, friend Jew," said a 
 friendly young fop, who, during all the voy- 
 age, had been teasing me for antidotes against 
 sea-sickness, and, draggle-tailed and helpless, 
 had been the sport of the hardier sailors and 
 older travellers. Now in sight of land, he had 
 gained courage, and resumed all his foppery, 
 his curled wig, his light summer rings, his 
 soupcoji of rouge, his scarlet Gallic cloak, and 
 his signet, a beautiful work of Grecian art. 
 
70 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " Allow me, friend Jew," he said, in a shrill, 
 affected voice, and with a profusion of Greek 
 phrases and scraps of verse, " to serve as 
 chorus, and explain to you the places that 
 surround this triumphant work of Poseidon's 
 art. I need scarcely tell you that this city is 
 Naples, where the illustrious poet, Virgil — of 
 whom, I daresay — I shudder to say — you 
 know nothing — wrote his ' iEneid.' By-the- 
 bye, mind I show you a remarkable epigram I 
 wrote upon it. That purple mountain that 
 pierces heaven, and is now helmeted and fea- 
 thered with a crimson cloud, is Vesuvius : 
 under it lie the giants whom Jupiter chained 
 and bound. That little pile of rock out at 
 sea to the right, crowned with a diadem of 
 towers and a Pharos, is Capri, where the 
 Emperor lives. Those are his twelve villas 
 — Jove, Mars, Juno, and all of them. Yes — 
 twelve. The Pharos faces the temple of Sor- 
 rentum, on the opposite shore. You see it 
 there — a white, marble-glittering speck, stand- 
 ing out from the gray olives and green pome- 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 71 
 
 granates like a nestling dove. Through the 
 thin violet air you can see from that great wall 
 the land of Circe, that Ulysses fled from. To 
 the south, far, are the fiery isles of iEolus, and 
 the chestnut heights of Sicily. Away there, 
 from Circe's promontory, you see, far as the 
 three temples of the city of roses, Paestum. 
 On those blue Falernian ridges grow the 
 richest wines that ever scented an amphora ; 
 and further on, with snowy crests, rise the 
 Samnite Apennines and the Lucanian moun- 
 tains." 
 
 I, who had drunk deeply of Koman lore, 
 forgot for a moment my burden of woe in 
 gazing at this scene of beauty. Sea of jewel 
 clearness, sky of magic transparency, moun- 
 tain, plain — all that can carry the mind into 
 infinity was there. 
 
 "And God saw that it was good!" I 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " By the twelve gods ! " said the Roman, 
 " I would rather be aedile in this dusty Naples 
 than king of such a land of mud and sand as 
 
72 ICE BOUND. 
 
 that Egypt, where, if you even set your dog at 
 an old woman's cat, you are stoned to death by 
 the rabble, who call everything sacred. By- 
 the-bye, did you ever hear what our 53 did 
 at Sycue ? Why, they caught a fellow who 
 was stealing one of the silver cohort eagles, 
 and they shut him up, and kept him for three 
 days on sacred onions. But the Governor at 
 Thebes got hold of the thing, and here I am 
 — bound, I expect, for Charon's ferry, unless 
 Mercury helps me. But what's that ? — there 
 — no, there — from the Emperor's galley ? 
 One flag — two flags. Oh ! that's the signal 
 for us poor devils to come and meet the 
 Emperor at Baice. Now, the good genius of 
 the old Manlian gens help me, or my last 
 dice is thrown, and the 53 lose a good 
 judge of ostriches' tongues. " 
 
 " In half-an-hour," whispered to me a Greek 
 philosopher, arrested for seditious haranguing 
 at Alexandria, " you will make acquaintance 
 with what Apollonius Beautifully calls, ' that 
 kind of beast called a tyrant. 1 
 
 > >» 
 
the madman's novel. 73 
 
 "No whispering!" said a sailor, pushing 
 us apart. 
 
 " He who bears misfortune like a god is 
 already more than half divine," said the 
 Stoic. 
 
 " No mutiny on board ship ! * said the 
 surly sailor, in whose way we had got, and 
 striking the Greek a heavy blow over the back 
 with the knotted end of a rope. 
 
 In a moment the Stoic, forgetting his phi- 
 losophy, roared with pain, and, seizing the 
 sailor by the hair, flung him over a heap of 
 buckets that stood near. 
 
 " To revenge is human," I said, laughingly ; 
 " but to forgive becomes the gods." 
 
 " To resist oppression," said the Stoic, 
 slinking away rather chapfallen, " is fitting all 
 but the slave." 
 
 An hour's sail brought us back to Baire. 
 Accustomed to the great palaces of Herod 
 on Mount Zion, the mountains of marble that 
 formed the Holy Temple of Mount Moriah, 
 and the great viaduct of the Tynpceum that 
 
74 ICE BOUND. 
 
 leaped over the valley and linked the two, I 
 was still astonished. The huge moles of 
 Puteoli and Baiae led on the eye to the Lucrine 
 lake, and the distant fabulous avenues that 
 lay beyond. Hercules, who was said in earlier 
 ages to have thrown up a dyke on this coast, 
 could scarcely, in all the might of a demigod, 
 have imagined such miles of palaces as the 
 Roman voluptuaries had here, raised in end- 
 less terraces, that the sea chafed at, but 
 could not destroy. Bath-rooms, and colon- 
 nades, and porticoes, to catch the fresh sea 
 air and expel the sun, arose in endless suc- 
 cession. Palanquins and chariots thronged 
 the white roads ; vessels gay with streamers 
 encircled the imperial galley, now still at her 
 moorings ; the shore resounded with the sound 
 of drums and horns ; spear-heads glittered 
 on the mole ; horses dashed past, either 
 bringing or departing with messages to Rome 
 — the great city that lay only two days' 
 journey from us over that distant poisonous 
 plain of the Pontine Marshes. 
 
the madman's novel. 75 
 
 "And here is that Leviathan," I thought; 
 "and what am I in his sight but a bro- 
 ther of dragons and a companion of owls?" 
 But then again, in my despondency, I thought 
 of the prayer of Isaiah, and sang, " Lord, 
 be gracious unto us, we have waited for 
 thee ; be thou our salvation also in the time 
 of trouble ; " and I w r as comforted. 
 
 " Oh, by Bacchus," said the fop, fawningly, 
 waiting for the boat that was to take us on 
 shore, "if you must sing, give us, ' Daphne, 
 stay me with thine eyes,' or some pretty love 
 thing, and none of those Hebrew dirges ; for 
 when a man's thinking of the lictors he 
 wants something lively and epicurean. Curse 
 these Stoics, I haven't lived half a life yet ! " 
 
 We passed through long galleries of busts 
 and statues — the treasures of Athens and of 
 Corinth ; we passed rooms through whose 
 doorway I could see costly citron tables and 
 rich couches, inlaid with amber and tortoise- 
 shell ; the floors were starred with Mosaic, or 
 paved with hard slabs of the red and green, 
 
76 ICE BOUND. 
 
 marble of Numidia. The walls, sometimes 
 black, sometimes of a pale straw colour, often 
 azure, were painted with the loves of danc- 
 ing nymphs, fluttering garlands of birds and 
 beasts, and chains of flowers. Here was 
 Perseus rescuing Andromeda, there Icarus 
 trying on his waxen wings. 
 
 "And how is Caprineus?" said a man 
 behind me in a low voice to an attendant 
 soldier, who had recognized him — " still dis- 
 coursing who was Hecuba's mother with the 
 grammarians, what tunes the Sirens played, 
 or I suppose still writing death-warrants for 
 his favourite, Sejanus?" 
 
 " Hist ! " said the man — " the Jew hears 
 us." 
 
 " Callipedes," said the other, "is just as 
 usual, always starting for Rome, but never 
 venturing far from his den, with the green 
 ditch round it. May the gods blind me if I 
 believe he is not sinking fast ; for he only 
 drinks one amphora a-day, and that of Augus- 
 tus's Setine ; he's mad now about building, 
 
the madman's novel. 77 
 
 nothing goes down but plans for cupolas and 
 forums, till I am sick of the sight of a 
 fellow with a roll of paper in his hand — still 
 anything to keep him from murder. " 
 
 As the gossips were thus venting their 
 spleen at their Emperor's expense, we suddenly 
 entered the room in which the Emperor stood 
 surrounded by his builders, Greek astrologers 
 and grammarians. In the background were 
 several tributary kings, whose suits were 
 pending at his court. They thought them- 
 selves his guests. They were, in fact, his 
 prisoners, and he their jailor. Some attend- 
 ants were measuring the doorways, while 
 bronzed workmen stood by, ready to turn 
 this villa, which had once belonged to Lu- 
 cullus, into some fresh form of grandeur and 
 luxury. 
 
 Advancing with slow and solemn steps, 
 my companion saluted Tiberius as Augustus 
 and Imperator, but he did not for a moment 
 even turn his back. 
 
 When he did, I saw he was an old man, 
 
78 ICE BOUND. 
 
 with once handsome features, now grown red 
 and swollen, and spotted with excess. His eyes 
 were large, fixed, and severe. He held his 
 neck stiff and erect, and eyed us frowning 
 and in silence — looking occasionally, from 
 time to time, at the fawning builder's plan. 
 I observed he was bald, and wore a laurel 
 crown. In the prime of life he must have 
 been robust and hale, for his chest was broad 
 and his hands large and strong ; but he was 
 now shrunk and withered, and the paper 
 shook as he held it. I saw at once the sus- 
 picious, pedantic, reserved, tyrant of Capri. 
 He whispered for a moment with an attend- 
 ant, to whom he handed a lyre, which he had 
 held in his left hand ; and then, stealing 
 towards us, he fixed his eye full on me, 
 and addressed me in an angry voice, as he 
 called for a plumb-line to make some fresh 
 measurement. 
 
 "Are you," he said, "the god-hater, 
 who denies the divinity that eleven cities 
 of Asia, and that all the world besides, 
 
THE madman's novel. 79 
 
 are so eager to adore — by the Lemures I 
 will" — and he swept the air with his hand, 
 as if he held a sword. 
 
 " Lord and master," said the ambassadors 
 of the eleven cities, pressing forward from a 
 throng of freedmen and courtiers, " still more 
 and more justly will you hate these Jews when 
 you learn that they alone of all mankind have 
 refused to sacrifice for your safety." 
 
 " My Lord and master," I said, falling on 
 my knees, " we are slandered " — for I saw 
 his tiger's eye darken, and feared instant death 
 — " we have sacrificed for you whole burnt- 
 offerings, not feasting on the victims, but 
 making holocausts." 
 
 " Be it so," he said — " you sacrifice for me, 
 but not to me," and he tore the plan with his 
 teeth, in the outburst of his rage. " Here, 
 Magasbas," to an African slave, " for though I 
 am a god, I drink Falernian," up to the gold. 
 
 Ere I could stammer a word of excuse, 
 or explain that I myself was no rebel, but a 
 quiet physician of Jerusalem, the Emperor 
 
80 ICE BOUND. 
 
 had hurried off to another apartment to see 
 the plans for a new tepidarium ! 
 
 We hurried after him, backwards and for- 
 wards, up stairs and along galleries, the 
 ambassadors pointing and mocking at me as 
 we went. 
 
 The windows of the chamber, filled with a 
 transparent stone, that admitted light, but not 
 the wind, and tempered the sun, astonished 
 me even in my fear. 
 
 All of a sudden, at the end of a gallery, he 
 turned on me, and said, " Pray, sir, why do 
 not the Jews eat pork?" 
 
 At this the ambassadors burst into such an 
 astonished roar of laughter at the Emperor's 
 wit, that they had to be forced back, 
 amid the shrugs and corrective looks of the 
 attendants. 
 
 I saw the Emperor face about, and I seized 
 my opportunity. 
 
 " Every nation," I said, hurriedly, " has 
 its own customs, even our colonies ; the 
 Greeks have their mysteries. Some na- 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 81 
 
 tions refrain from eating the flesh of lambs. " 
 
 " Quite right," said Tiberius, drily, looking 
 round for applause ; " the meat's bad." 
 
 Again the ambassadors roared, and Tibe- 
 rius laughing too, the attendants also laughed ; 
 I alone stood angry and vexed. 
 
 " Laugh, man," said the dandy, in my ear ; 
 "laugh, or your life isn't worth an hour's 
 purchase, and you'll be a sop in that cursed 
 yellow Tiber, perhaps, even before me." 
 
 Roused by this I smiled mournfully. 
 
 Instantly the Emperor relaxed his iron face, 
 and said, as he shaded his eyes to criticise a 
 fresco picture of two Cupids drawing a Biga 
 that was driven by a butterfly, 
 
 "Men who think me no god, are, after all, 
 more unfortunate than criminal — let the poor 
 Jew go." 
 
 The moment he had said these words the 
 expression of every face around altered. Some 
 made way fur me — others offered me a place 
 in the front rank — the fop kept jogging my 
 elbow and instructing me to keep my face in 
 
 vol. I. G 
 
82 ICE BOUND. 
 
 a smile, or I should still float in that cursed 
 pea-soup river. 
 
 While I was still trembling, like a man just 
 snatched from the edge of a precipice, one of 
 the train stepped forward. 
 
 But before I knew whether I was even jet 
 saved from the jaws of this monster, who 
 gnawed the world, a rhetorician of Cos, a loud- 
 voiced, conceited declaimer, vain and empty, 
 advanced, and tucking up his mantle in the 
 Grecian fashion, began, in the name of the 
 people of further Spain, to entreat that they 
 might be deemed worthy to erect a temple to 
 worship Tiberius. 
 
 " The best of mortals, as Hercules and 
 Bacchus among the Greeks, and Romulus 
 among the Komans, had sought and gained 
 such a place among the Immortals. For the 
 hopes of such an apotheosis Augustus had 
 lived a hero's life ; but Tiberius, by nature 
 almost divine, had won the crown before the 
 genius of death had reversed his torch." 
 
 Then with a grand flourish and a look 
 
the madman's novel. 83 
 
 round to secure applause, he concluded, 
 " Princes," he said, " may command the pre- 
 sent, but it should be their dearest ambition 
 thus to take pledges for the future — indiffer- 
 ence to fame is indifference to virtue." 
 
 To all this harangue Tiberius replied with 
 a single smile at the Greek accent with which 
 the coxcombical orator pronounced his Latin. 
 He even drew out his ivory tablets and made 
 what I suppose were notes of the most 
 flagrant anachronisms. The flattered gram- 
 marian, thinking the Emperor was taking 
 notice of his speech, strutted about in a 
 way that roused even the courtier's mirth. 
 
 "By Bacchus, is this thy Silenus?" said 
 the Emperor, selecting from the crowd a 
 squat iEdile, who, very uncomfortable in 
 superb Sidonian robes, was hiding his con- 
 fusion behind my friend the fop. " Speak, 
 man ; on what bean-soup errand art thou 
 come, for I'll swear thou art no shunner 
 of pork?" 
 
 " This man," said a dignified chamberlain, 
 
 g2 
 
84 ICE BOUND. 
 
 looking at the fat country magistrate with 
 extreme contempt, "is an iEdile of the once 
 famed Ilium " (every one stared, for one more 
 unlike Priam never walked), "and he comes as 
 an ambassador from that town, to sympathize 
 with your highness on the death of the illus- 
 trious Gerrnanicus." 
 
 I never saw on human face so horrid a 
 shadow as passed over the face of Tiberius 
 at the mention of that hated name. In a 
 moment, as by an effort of habitual reserve, 
 the deadly purple that had darkened his 
 cheeks faded, however, into a still more 
 ghastly paleness, a strange smile brightened 
 his stealthy and blcod-shot eyes, and with a low 
 bow he said, turning to the perspiring iEdile — 
 
 " Tell the people of Ilium I thank them, 
 and beg to express my sincere regret at 
 the loss of their much-lamented townsman, 
 Hector." 
 
 Then, with a scowl of rage, the Emperor 
 and his train of stewards, builders, and work- 
 men, poured out of the chamber. 
 
THE madman's novel. 85 
 
 The iEdile was wonderful to contemplate. 
 I could see that he hardly knew whether to 
 treat Tiberius's answer as a sneer or a compli- 
 ment ; but the alarmed looks of those around 
 him, and their ominous whispers, soon con- 
 vinced him of the truth ; he stood like one who 
 had just been scared by the Medusa's head, 
 and feels his flesh fast hardening into stone. 
 
 The fop seized the opportunity (rather un- 
 seasonably) to ask the unhappy man if it was 
 not true that the quails about the Scamander 
 were of a rare flavour ; and the rhetorician, 
 now the centre of a crowd of flatterers — 
 one of whom, with loathsome servility, was 
 brushing some pretended dust from his sleeve 
 — bade the iEdile be of good courage, and he 
 would befriend him with Caesar. 
 
 While we were all occupied with our 
 mingled hopes and fears, and were discussing 
 the Emperor's smiles and gestures, the sten- 
 torian voice of a Liburnian usher suddenly 
 awed us into silence. 
 
 " Tiberius, the princeps, commands that 
 
86 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Colophon, the grammarian of Cos, for daring 
 to address him by word of mouth, contrary to 
 the Manlian law, be banished for thirty years 
 to the island of Melita, in the ^Egean ; he 
 also dismisses the iEdile of Ilium, Julius 
 Bessus, and presents him with a beryl can- 
 tharus, to keep as a remembrance of his 
 painful journey." 
 
 Immediately the fat iEdile's face gathered 
 up into pleasant puckers, and the grammarian's 
 whitened into that of a corpse. 
 
 " Oh ! my wife and children ! " he cried; 
 u what, no delay ?" 
 
 But the next moment two strong Cap- 
 padocian attendants tied the wretched man's 
 hands behind him, and pushed him before them 
 to the doorway. 
 
 As he passed through he turned, and ex- 
 claimed with a sigh, " Farewell, friends ; a 
 dying man salutes ye!" 
 
 I must say this for the fussy, good-natured 
 iEdile, that I saw him run after Colophon and 
 push a purse into his girdle. I wish I could, 
 
the madman's novel. 87 
 
 for the credit of humanity, however, suppress 
 the fact that the moment the kind Trojan's back 
 was turned, one of the guardsmen snatched the 
 bag from its receptacle, and wagging it in the 
 orator's eyes, grinned at his companion. 
 
 Perhaps a tedious hour had elapsed before 
 I was called by an attendant to wait upon the 
 Emperor in his library. I found him writing ; 
 his favourite dwarf, ludicrously called Atlas, 
 was sorting some rolls and parchments, the 
 newest works just arrived from Home, the 
 latest despatches from the East ; the drip, 
 drip of a bronze water-clock was the only 
 sound that broke the silence. 
 
 The Emperor scarcely noticed my presence 
 as I entered, but went on muttering, " I have 
 got a wolf by the ears, but the toils are ready 
 — let's see" (and he counted on his fingers) — 
 " on the Rhine eight legions, three in Iberia, 
 Africa two, and two in Egypt, a legion at 
 Antioch, and one at Cesarea, two on the 
 Danube, and two in the Isles ; two more 
 in Dalmatia, and then the Suban and Praetorian 
 
88 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Guards, if they do not play false, and Macro 
 is but true." 
 
 Then he looked up, and called an officer 
 who was writing at a neighbouring desk. 
 
 " More complaints, Piso, of this Pilate 
 — a carpenter's son of Nazareth executed ; 
 just when we should be firm in the East, 
 to strike the one blow that saves all. Bid 
 him be recalled ; write to-night — and send 
 him to the Alps — that will cool his insolence, 
 after the sun of Syria; but no more state 
 affairs now, Atlas, till after caena." 
 
 Then suddenly glancing at his tablets — 
 " Oh, notes made by the delatores (spies) 
 during the voyage of the ' Serapis/ that, 
 during a storm off Corsica, Lucius Balbus, 
 cornet in the 10th legion, vowed to Neptune 
 to offer his hair in the temple of that god — 
 that at the same time Mycon, a Stoic philo- 
 sopher, of Alexandria, also a state prisoner, 
 vowed, if he got safe to land, to fight a lion in 
 the amphitheatre. 
 
 " These being my friends, I would not," 
 
the madman's novel. 89 
 
 said the Emperor, "with his usual devilish smile, 
 11 that such pious vows as theirs were broken. 
 No, by the gods, let the fop be shaven, and 
 the Stoic sent instantly to the lions at 
 Rome ; and when the fop is shaved, despatch 
 him to help his fellow-traveller — for a 
 Libyan lion is work enough for two such 
 men as our philosopher. No parleying — you 
 heard what I said, Piso — to the lions with 
 them — away!" 
 
 I stepped forward, and, falling on my 
 knees, caught hold of the Emperor's robe, and 
 prayed for the soldier's life. 
 
 " By Zeus," he said, " but a Jew makes a 
 better friend than a Roman — let the fool 
 then be sent to Syene." 
 
 " He comes from there," said the attendant. 
 
 " Then let him be sent back there, for I know 
 no worse punishment; and tell him to pray 
 twice a-day for my health, for I have a cursed 
 cough that torments my chest. Begone! am 
 I no Caesar, that I am to be obeyed by no 
 one ? Begone, slave, or beware the carp tank ! " 
 
90 ICE BOUND. 
 
 I shuddered at these words, for I had 
 been told, during my voyage, not only of the 
 fact that the Emperor delighted to watch 
 victims writhing in the waves under the rocks 
 of Capri, but of one wretched slave whom he 
 had thrown into the fish-tank, where he was 
 devoured by pike kept there for the use of 
 the imperial kitchen. 
 
 He saw my terror, and smiled — again that 
 dreadful smile! 
 
 " Do you like poetry ?" he said suddenly; 
 " you Jews, I hear, have no poetry." 
 
 I humbly alluded to our great poets, and 
 quoted him a part of the triumphant psalm of 
 Miriam, so full of martial exultation, having in- 
 deed turned it, during the voyage, into iambics. 
 
 " Sophos," he said, with a pedantic air, that 
 affected omniscience, " but I object to that 
 word * emblema/ it is mere Greek, and not 
 pure Latin. I have here by me a mere — a 
 trifling work of my own, written in the 
 manner of Messala Corvinus. It is though 
 hardly worth your hearing — it's only a dia- 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 91 
 
 logue between a thrush and an oyster, a dis- 
 pute settled by the interference of Juno." 
 
 I listened with all the interest I could 
 assume, but ray applause was hardly rap- 
 turous enough for one so cloyed with flattery. 
 " I observe," he said, " the elaborate construc- 
 tion of our verse escapes you." 
 
 I could see that all this time some trouble 
 preyed upon him, and would not let him 
 rest. His eyes were always wandering to the 
 door or the window. His clammy fingers 
 were feverishly pulling off his rings, or 
 fumbling in his breast as for some concealed 
 weapon. He opened now his pencase — now 
 loosened or tightened his robe. All of a 
 sudden he clicked his fingers, and a black 
 slave entered. 
 
 " Cygnus," he said, " call Caius hither, re- 
 quest him to bring the despatches from Se- 
 janus, and bid Macro order out the guard, for 
 I go at once to Rome." 
 
 " To Rome!" stammered the slave, and 
 disappeared. 
 
92 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Sejanus, I knew, was the dreaded favourite, 
 now at the climax of his power, and about, 
 it was rumoured, to become son-in-law to the 
 Emperor. I wondered what had led me into 
 the confidence of the tyrant, who every now and 
 then spoke to me with a kindness unusual to 
 his cold and reserved nature. 
 
 Preceded by an usher, Caius, generally 
 known by the soldiers' nickname of Caligula, 
 entered. The son of Germanicus was tall 
 and thin ; his limbs shrunk and lank, his 
 walk shambling, his head prematurely bald, 
 his complexion sallow, his voice shrill and 
 harsh, his handsome features deformed by a 
 scowl and writhing expression. 
 
 " What news, Caius, from our beloved 
 city ? " said Tiberius, in reply to Caligula's 
 humble salutation. 
 
 "The best news in the world/' he replied, 
 with shrill and excited gesticulation, as if 
 lashing a horse. " The green are everywhere 
 victorious, and talk of building a fresh circus 
 in the fourteenth region." 
 
the madman's novel. 93 
 
 " Bah ! " said Tiberius, " what trash is 
 this ! Leave the red and blue charioteers to 
 the tavern gossips, and such fools as Yerus 
 and Milo. What tidings bring you from our 
 Sejanus — our beloved Sejanus?" 
 
 " Our beloved Sejanus," replied Caligula, 
 looking keenly from under his eyebrows, "not 
 having room on earth, must needs jostle you 
 on Olympus. Not satisfied with the consul- 
 ship, the senate have just decreed an altar to 
 Clemency and Friendship, and by its side 
 images of their Jupiter" (bowing to Tiberius), 
 " and of this Prometheus are to be placed." 
 
 " A second Patroclus to a second Achilles," 
 said Tiberius. 
 
 " He prays, also, that the gods may soon 
 bless him, and enable him to visit his dear 
 father-in-law, and his equally dear bride, Li- 
 villa — whose indisposition grieves him to the 
 soul — at the tranquil nest of the muses, Capri." 
 
 Caligula turned aside as if to conceal a 
 slight smile at the obvious insincerity of the 
 crafty favourite's letter. 
 
94 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " And what say the private letters of the 
 delatores (spies) ? " said Tiberius, impatiently 
 — " what is the talk of the forum and market- 
 places ? " 
 
 " They say that the proudest families of 
 Eome — the Manlii, Camilli, Cincinnati, and 
 Sevii — wait like slaves at the doors of this 
 modern Tarquin ; that the blues and greens 
 have vowed rival races in his honour ; that all 
 the flat-nosed gladiators of the fencing schools 
 are swearing to fight in the games on his next 
 birth-day ; that altars are raised before his 
 pictures, and sacrifices are being offered in all 
 quarters of the city." 
 
 " He is the shadow of the Emperor," said 
 Tiberius, calmly, without moving a muscle, 
 " and the bean-eaters of the Suburra love its 
 shelter." 
 
 Long distrust of mankind had given the 
 Emperor an iron fixity of face, that furnished 
 no indication of feeling for the keenest phy- 
 siognomist to observe. 
 
 " Seven hundred and fifty-two years," he 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 95 
 
 continued, " since Rome was founded, and 
 never before lived the man whose robe the Fabii 
 and Mamerci ever knelt together to kiss. Such 
 a minister is as the vine to the elm." 
 
 " Or the ivy to the oak," said Caligula ; 
 but Tiberius took no heed of the sarcasm. 
 " Here is, also, the last fable of your freed- 
 man, Phaedrus, one which is the talk of all 
 the cookshops of the herb-market. This 
 letter tells me that, at the baths and the law- 
 courts — at temples even during the sacrifices — 
 this fable is buzzed about amid the laughter of 
 a thousand mouths and ten thousand eyes." 
 
 "Read it!" said Tiberius. " Something 
 against the object of our favour, or it would 
 not, by Hercules, I know, go down with the 
 greasy rabble, whose only cry is, * Bread 
 and games ! ' " 
 
 With a keen smile of intelligence, Caligula 
 read aloud the following well-known fable, 
 which a crafty Greek intended as a satire on 
 the reigning favourite, Sejanus, at a time 
 when plainer truth would have brought the 
 
96 ICE BOUND. 
 
 writer to the Tarpeian Hill or the fatal stairs. 
 
 " A certain jackdaw, puffed up with vanity, 
 tricked himself out with the stray feathers of 
 a peacock, which he found dropped upon the 
 straw of a farmyard. Elated by his gaiety, 
 the foolish bird mixed with a flock of the 
 proud birds of Juno, and strutted about as if 
 their equal, or even their very king, elected 
 by Jove. For a time the peacocks took no 
 notice of the intruder ; but, at last, provoked 
 by his insolence and assumption, they fell 
 upon him, beak and claw, in a moment stripped 
 him of all his borrowed finery, and finally drove 
 him away cruelly bleeding and half dead/' 
 
 " Half dead — very well ! n cried a parasite 
 of Caligula's. 
 
 " Well for a Thracian," said Tiberius ; 
 " but the fable is full of old phrases from 
 Ennhis, quite out of date. I will re-write the 
 thing for him, throw in a little more alle- 
 gory, and turn it into flowing alcaics." 
 
 " Flowing alcaics !" said the parasite, whose 
 business it was to echo. " Sophos ! " (bravo). 
 
THE madman's novel. 97 
 
 " But, Agrippa," said Tiberius, turning 
 round abruptly, with the air of a man who 
 snaps a brittle net. 
 
 I could see that the Emperor was leaping at 
 the throat of an overwhelming thought. 
 
 I looked up, and at once recognized, in the 
 commanding figure that pressed through the 
 doorway, where the more favoured guards and 
 officers waited, watching me as I stood a 
 spectator of the imperial conferences, Agrippa, 
 the grandchild of the cruel Herod, the bro- 
 ther of the beautiful Herodias, the claimant 
 of the Jewish throne, and the favourite com- 
 panion of Caligula. His oriental features were 
 imperious and beautiful, his chin was full, his 
 eyes were dark and lustrous, his bearing that of 
 one who, accustomed to unqualified obedience, 
 found it difficult to conceal his contempt for the 
 herd of pimps and slaves that filled the court 
 of a Roman palace. His very step was lighter 
 and more free than that of these conquerors 
 of the world, who trembled at the voice of a 
 dying old man. 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 ICE BOUND. 
 
 "I find it difficult/' said Tiberius, "to converse 
 freely with this Jew, who is, I find, a learned 
 physician of your Jerusalem," said Tiberius to 
 Agrippa. " I would have you ask him" (for I 
 had affected to know but little Latin, in order 
 to escape the tyrant's interrogation) " whether 
 the star of — " (here he whispered, and pointed 
 to a horoscope marked with Chaldaic characters 
 on the table) — " and mine are not, as Thras- 
 gillus, my seer, tells me, antagonistic." 
 
 Agrippa instantly replied, that he had fresh 
 despatches from Syria to submit to the Em- 
 peror. He had discovered that Csesarea could 
 bear an annual tax of ten millions more ses- 
 terces ; but he craved the dismissal of the 
 proconsul Lucius Balbus, who had persecuted 
 the Jews at Alexandria, and who had been 
 there three times the usual term of procon- 
 sular stay. (Balbus I knew as an insolent 
 creature of Sejanus, but one not hostile to 
 my countrymen). 
 
 An unconscious glance of my eye caught 
 
the madman's novel. 99 
 
 the attention of Agrippa, who returned it with 
 a look of hatred. 
 
 "I can tell fables as well as Phaedrus," 
 said Tiberius. " Listen, Agrippa, and observe 
 the purity of my Latin, for your own pronun- 
 ciation is not quite perfect : — t A number of 
 flies once settled on a soldier's wound, and a 
 compassionate passer by the camp would have 
 brushed them away. To his astonishment, the 
 sufferer bade him refrain for the love of Jove ; 
 1 For,' said he, ' these flies have been at it ever 
 since Prandium, and are beginning now to be 
 bearable ; but, if you drive them off, they will 
 be instantly succeeded by new comers, with 
 keener stings and fresher appetites.' " 
 
 The courtiers laughed as the Emperor con- 
 cluded; Caligula screamed, and the parasite 
 echoed, " Fresher appetites ! " as if he could 
 not restrain his delight. 
 
 Agrippa, ever cool and self-concentrated, 
 occupied himself during the buzz of praise 
 and compliments in bidding me, in Hebrew, 
 
 h2 
 
100 ICE BOUND. 
 
 tell the Emperor that much danger awaited 
 him from Saturn, under whose influence that 
 nameless person's house of life seemed to be, 
 according to the Chaldaic diagram. 
 
 " As the Lord liveth, and as my soul 
 liveth ! ,] I exclaimed, wringing my hands, 
 " oh, Agrippa ! I know nothing of the jug- 
 gling art of the Chaldeans." 
 
 " Miserable cheat ! " he said, drawing me 
 into a corner, and squeezing my wrist with a 
 clutch that made me bend with pain, " dare 
 to refuse thy king, and thy blood shall be 
 poured out this very night as a sacrifice to 
 devils ! Blab ! and I will declare thee a well- 
 known poisoner, and thou shalt go feed the 
 fish that swarm round Capri ! " 
 
 " By the wringing of his hands, you see," 
 said Agrippa, turning to the Emperor, " that 
 this astrologer sees much evil in the stars." 
 
 "By Him that sitteth between the Cheru- 
 bim, my lord Agrippa ! " I said, still in Hebrew, 
 supplicatingly, " I cannot do this great wicked- 
 ness and sin against God ! " 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 101 
 
 11 What says the man ? He appears trou- 
 bled," said Tiberius. 
 
 " He declares that death is indicated by the 
 star Mars, and the Pleiades convince him that 
 the danger is but five days hence, and that it 
 comes from " 
 
 " But "why does the sage turn away ? " 
 
 " He is lost in thought." " Dog !" he whis- 
 pered to me, in Hebrew, " say from Rome, or 
 thou diest to-night by my hand." 
 
 " From Rome," I said, mechanically. I 
 saw the Emperor shudder, and close his tablets 
 with a clash. I little knew on what fresh 
 crime he had just then determined. 
 
 " The Rubicon must then be crossed," he 
 muttered, in an under breath, that few who 
 stood near him could hear. 
 
 " What name was that to-day, Caius?" Tibe- 
 rius said, leaping on his feet and calling for his 
 litter. "We will to Rome to-night; we must 
 get as far as Appii Forum, or at least to the 
 sixth mile-stone. What ! are we to have vipers 
 hatched under our very pillows ? No. But 
 
102 ICE BOUND. 
 
 these are no words — I am not well, gentle- 
 men — I must to Rome — what, a pet fox 
 grown dangerous ! — clear the room ! I have 
 had no sleep ; keep out that detestable sun- 
 light, it burns my brain, to see it dance on 
 the water in the court. " Then the Em- 
 peror threw himself on a couch and called for 
 wine. 
 
 " Kneel to kiss his hand/' said Agrippa in 
 my ear ; " and contrive to touch his pulse." 
 
 I did so, and whispered in Hebrew that it 
 was low and feeble. A glance of triumph 
 leaped up in his eye, and he made a signal 
 almost imperceptible even to Caligula's stealthy 
 dissimulation, no outburst of the Emperor 
 could ever throw him off his guard. It was 
 said of him afterwards that he was the best 
 servant and worst master that ever lived. 
 
 " Tell him," said Agrippa, turning to me 
 imperiously, and still speaking in Hebrew — 
 for the Emperor was now engaged in listening 
 to a number of lampoons, with which his sus- 
 picious nature delighted to vex itself daily — 
 
the madman's novel. 103 
 
 " that yesterday you saw a white owl killed 
 by a butcher bird, and that that is an omen of 
 the noble being in danger from the base." 
 
 "I cannot, and will not, sin thus against 
 God and my own soul," I answered. 
 
 " Eefuse," he said, " and thou shalt be 
 thrown at once into the slave prison, or sent 
 for sale to the trainers of the gladiators. Thou 
 canst go to no part of the world but my long 
 hand will seize thee. In the furthest Libya 
 even my poisons will taint sure as thy asp, 
 or my invisible arrows pierce thy heart." 
 
 " Drive me not to despair, Agrippa," I 
 cried ; " for even the worm turns, even the 
 nest-bird pecks at the serpent." 
 
 " Another word," he said, twitching my 
 cloak fiercely, u and I will splash the wall with 
 thy brains, thou minister of Pluto." 
 
 " My lord Tiberius," I said, rushing for- 
 ward, and falling on my knees, to kiss the hem 
 of the Caesar's robe. " Imperator, prince, 
 protector of the weak, save me from this 
 
104 ICE BOUND. 
 
 fierce noble, in whose sight I am but as the 
 dust of the earth." 
 
 " By Hercules, what slave of mine dares to 
 threaten one who has proved himself a wise 
 physician (though a Jew), and a good judge 
 of poetry ; some sweeper of the hall, I dare 
 swear, whose sceptre is his palm-brush, and 
 whose only rival is the porter. Name him, 
 fellow ! Is it my strong Thracian, who can 
 sweep a sheep in two at one blow of his 
 sword; or our burly Ligurian, who can fell 
 a bull at a buffet?" 
 
 " It is neither of these, great Emperor," I 
 said, veiling my face ; " but the one that stands 
 beside you," pointing to the grandchild of 
 Herod. 
 
 "What! thou, Agrippa?" 
 
 " Nay, sire ; I did but ask the fellow, who 
 I doubt is no pure Jew, the means of testing 
 the true Arabian cassia, and he flies at me 
 thus like a madman." 
 
 "Be silent!" he whispered, in Hebrew, 
 " or thou shalt never see another Feast of 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 105 
 
 Tabernacles — I swear it by the glory in the 
 Temple." 
 
 " He threatens me again, my lord, now — 
 not a moment since ; he tells me, in Hebrew, 
 that I shall never see another Feast of Taber- 
 nacles, if I dare to speak." 
 
 "What is this, Agrippa?" said Tiberius, 
 stamping his foot; "is Csesar to be fooled 
 before his very eyes, — was it for nought that 
 Herod treated his children, as the divine Au- 
 gustus said, worse than his swine?" 
 
 " May the king live for ever ! " said Agrippa, 
 with an Oriental motion of homage ; " but the 
 quack is sick in the brain. I only bade him 
 come to my chamber, that he might prepare 
 for me a febrifuge, such as the Syrian leeches 
 use." 
 
 " I suspect some stratagem," replied Tibe- 
 rius, "for I see an evil spirit in thine eye; 
 but the Jew shall not be hurt, he shall 
 read me the verses of his people sometimes 
 after the bath — they will give a zest to the 
 warmer fancies of our own Ovid." 
 
106 ICE BOUND. 
 
 11 Prepare thy tomb!" muttered Agrippa in 
 Hebrew. 
 
 u There, again he threatens me, and bids 
 me prepare for death," I cried. 
 
 " Agrippa," said the Emperor, turning 
 round with an air that betrayed no particle 
 of emotion, " two days since, at the fourth 
 hour, you drove with Caius towards Naples. 
 At the third milestone from Pausilippo you 
 spoke to your companion in Greek." 
 
 " Two days since I drove to Naples," said 
 Agrippa, sullenly, and fixing his eyes on 
 Tiberius, whose face was stiff as that of a 
 corpse. He continued, paying no heed to 
 the reply : 
 
 " You said to Caius: ' The lion is near his 
 end, his claws are blunt : write to Sejanus, 
 and offer him a tribunate if he will convoke 
 the senate, and send two lictors to " 
 
 "It is false!" murmured Agrippa; " the 
 deaf charioteer is a spy, and hired by my 
 enemies." 
 
 "Macro," said Tiberius, pointing to Agrippa, 
 
the madman's novel. 107 
 
 " take him to the Matnertine. Agrippa, 
 farewell, and thank thy God that the lion 
 has not used his claws ; Caius, learn dis- 
 cretion, and never employ deaf charioteers. 
 A second such drive may bring you to the 
 narrow house in Rome, that stands so 
 dangerously near the edge of the Tarpeian. 
 But no more jesting ; now, Caius, what say 
 the plebs of me ?" 
 
 " The journals are dull," said Caius, " and 
 the Squibs duller. Nothing but rhymes to 
 the comedian Bathyllus and odes to Galloper; 
 that won the last race for the Blue party in 
 the Circus. Let me see — oh, Plautilla, who 
 went to Baise a Penelope, has returned a 
 Helen." 
 
 " Well put," said Tiberius. 
 
 u An epigram too on old Scaurus, who is al- 
 ways giving a feast to celebrate his reconcile- 
 ment with his wife. Phoedrus calls him the 
 man who has been married a thousand times, 
 and always to the same woman." 
 
 " Good," said Tiberius, assuming the critic 
 —"good!" 
 
108 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " Report that a Sabine vintner, in disgust 
 at his district's wine, has invented a means of 
 making water intoxicating. Proposed that 
 500 statues be erected to him in the Forum, 
 and that he be called ' Benefactor of the 
 Roman world/ if he is successful ; but if not, 
 that he be ducked in the Tiber, and then 
 drowned in a wine vat, to propitiate the 
 vintners, who, if it is true, intend to ravage 
 Gaul." 
 
 " Ye gods!" said Tiberius, suddenly rising 
 and stamping with impatience, " is all the 
 world leagued to drive the old man into Hades? 
 Ye are all traitors and cheats, all — all ; there 
 is no hope but in Jove — only in Jove. Listen- 
 ers at every door, and behind every hanging — 
 every kiss of the hand but to see how long my 
 pulse will beat in life" — (glancing at me in a 
 way that showed me he had observed the ges- 
 ture of Agrippa) — " no smile but to deceive — 
 no look of greeting but to count my wrinkles 
 or measure the hollows of my cheek. If I eat 
 less than usual, then a hundred letters ; if I 
 
the madman's novel. 109 
 
 eat more, then slanders of my debauches ; 
 but, mark you, I bid you beware ! ,; (and the 
 slaves, accustomed to these outbursts of fury, 
 shrunk from the room) — " there is life in the 
 old tyrant as you call him yet ; let traitors 
 beware — but go, Caius, and bid Hierocles 
 bring the letters of the spies, that we may 
 try and smoke some more of these foxes out of 
 their holes. Had I but a hundred heads now 
 at my feet, I should grow young again, like 
 .<Eson in his magic bath. 
 
 # * # # # 
 
 " Excellent!" said Tiberius. 
 
 " Here is something rather ribald — shall I 
 read it?" said Caligula. 
 
 " Read on." 
 
 "It is a foul, foolish thing, not worth 
 reading." 
 
 " Nothing disturbs the wise; not slanders, 
 nor the fire-forged thunder-stone," said Tibe- 
 rius, quoting a line of some Greek poet. 
 
 " It is a letter," continued the reader, with 
 a malicious smile, and an air of affected re- 
 
110 ICE BOUND. 
 
 luctance, "affecting to be from the King of 
 Parthia, and addressed, not to Claudius Tibe- 
 rius Nero, but to Caldus Biberius Mero. It 
 prays you to take compassion on the world, 
 and to destroy yourself, in spite of the philoso- 
 pher's axiom, that only gout and stone are 
 sufficient arguments to induce the wise man 
 to fall on his own sword." 
 
 " Cookshop wit," said Tiberius, writhing at 
 the satire he loved to affect to despise. 
 " The Prastor should look to such buffoons. 
 These slanders get, like the scorpions, into 
 every wall, and, like flies, they sting and 
 buzz in every chamber." 
 
 " They say," continued Caligula, reading 
 calmly on, and paying no attention to the 
 suppressed anger of the Emperor, " that 
 these baths of Baise are only fit for the puny 
 foplings who swim about in seas of floating 
 rose leaves — fellows who could not lift one of 
 my German spears — pah ! — fellows whom I 
 could kill with a pinch of my finger and 
 thumb. Sons of Romulus, indeed ! " 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. Ill 
 
 With the gladness of one doing a task be 
 took pleasure in, Caligula strode out of the 
 room. 
 
 " There goes/' said Tiberius, with a smile — 
 for he remembered how Augustus had called 
 Caius slow and cruel — " a water-snake for 
 Rome, and a monster for the universal world. 
 But, to work, for it is now the fourth hour. 
 I must strike but once, but strike sure ! " 
 
 Jfc 4fc 4fc 4fc 4fc 
 
 nr w *& tp *?r 
 
 At the loud blast of the slave's trumpet, 
 announcing the fourth hour, I was hurried 
 from the Emperor's presence to exercise my 
 new functions as sub-librarian and amanuensis 
 of the Roman Caesar. 
 
 Was it but a dream then that I was doomed 
 to an eternal curse? Which of these laughing 
 and groaning slaves had ever heard of the Mes- 
 siah ? Who would believe me if I told them that 
 the Son of God had lately been crucified in 
 Jerusalem like a common thief? Why, there 
 was a slave of Tiberius impaled but yesterday 
 for stealing a silver cup, and there was one 
 
112 ICE BOUND. 
 
 strangled only the day before for breaking a 
 marble Cupid in the atrium ! * * 
 
 Sejanus was at this time the favourite of the 
 Emperor, and the sole ruler of Rome, of which 
 he was the only resident Consul. The priests 
 and senate became his dependants ; his frown 
 w r as death. Originally the son of a poor 
 knight, he had begun life as the parasite of 
 the father of that miserable epicure, Apicius, 
 who had just committed suicide because he 
 had only some millions of sesterces left, 
 scarcely sufficient to procure him one meal 
 of flamingo's hearts, nightingales' brains, 
 fatted snails, dormice, with the usual ex- 
 pensive sauce of ambergris and other per- 
 fumes. At once pliant and persevering, 
 generous and rapacious, atheistic yet a 
 respecter of religious decorum, his skill in go- 
 verning without appearing to govern soon won 
 him the favour of Tiberius, whose reserve and 
 timidity alike made him weary of Rome. A 
 long year of intrigue — the discoveries of plots, 
 real and imaginary — a pressure of business, 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 113 
 
 ingeniously contrived to weigh unduly heavy 
 on the Imperator — soon drove Tiberius to the 
 luxurious caves of Capri, where, according to 
 the gossip of Rome, scenes that would shock 
 a Spanish dancing-girl, and tortures that would 
 disgust a hangman's help, were daily and 
 nightly enacted. The bald Caprineus, as the 
 rabble called the Caesar, was said to offer re- 
 wards for new vices, and for new modes of crush- 
 ing out life from gashed and writhing bodies. 
 At once a pedant and a debauchee, Tiberius 
 openly avowed in my presence that he cared 
 not if he were hated, so he were feared. The 
 city seldom heard from him, but when he 
 issued a decree approving of the seizure of 
 some rich senator's vineyards by the hated 
 Sejanus, or when he wrote one of his subtle 
 and studied letters to the senate, ordering the 
 arrest (and therefore death) of some member of 
 that order who had dared to speak the truth. 
 The people hated him, because he did not love 
 the city, and lived, like a barbarian exile, 
 away from the circus and the games that 
 VOL. i. I 
 
114 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Augustas used to daily preside at. The patri- 
 cians hated him, because they feared him ; and, 
 indeed, such proud families as the JEmilii, 
 Manlii, Camilli — men in whose halls stood the 
 effigies of the great champions against the Volsci 
 and the Sabine — were scarcely yet prepared 
 to bow down in full homage to the descendant 
 of one scarcely equal to themselves. Tiberius 
 had no sympathies with Rome ; he cared 
 neither for the law courts nor the forum, the 
 sacrifices nor the games. Though he was 
 fond of blood as a Scythian, he was effeminate 
 as a Greek : he did not care for the sociable 
 caena, the bath, or the sports of the field of 
 Mars. Even the men of pleasure despised a 
 man who could shut himself up in a rocky 
 island, in company with a mere band of slaves, 
 grammarians, and executioners. The vices that 
 would have been to their minds rather befitting 
 the purple in the Palatine, became hideous in 
 a distant island. The oppressions they might 
 have borne from the Cassar, became intolerable 
 when inflicted by a servant of the Caesar 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 115 
 
 like one of themselves. Augustus had been con- 
 tent to reign, and yet preserve an appearance 
 of liberty ; but this Tiberius shook the sword 
 in the eyes of those who knelt before him, and 
 clanked their chains rudely in their faces. 
 A series of crimes had raised Sejanus to 
 a height of power that had alarmed a suspi- 
 cious tyrant, who loved no one that did not 
 ease him of his care or minister to his plea- 
 sure. The death of Germanicus, of Livia — 
 the wise mother of the Emperor — the murder 
 of Drusus, the imprisonment of his son, and 
 the banishment of the " she- wolf," his mother, 
 had all been so many steps of Sejanus to 
 empire. 
 
 But a month since he had been made joint 
 consul with the Emperor; and had even 
 ventured to propose an alliance with the im- 
 perial house, by marriage with the widow of 
 Drusus. But this request Tiberius had, for 
 the first time, met with procrastinations and 
 delays — more than even his usual distrust 
 and hesitation would seem to have augured. 
 
 I 2 
 
116 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Still, the favourite stood firm in what I 
 must call the affections of Tiberius, in spite of 
 slander, absence, and conspiracy. True, every 
 hour brought the Emperor letters from his 
 vicegerent at Rome, and relays of couriers on 
 smoking horses were every moment spurring 
 up to the palace door. True, that nearly 
 every soothsayer and augur, every slave and 
 freed-man, was in the pay of this candidate 
 for empire. From the slaves who swept the 
 Mosaic floors, to the fowler who brought in 
 his strings of thrushes and quails into the 
 kitchen, there were few but had been tampered 
 with by this dangerous subject. The very 
 augur who interpreted the nightly dreams of 
 the Emperor, and the visions that made him 
 dread to sleep, was perhaps infusing suspi- 
 cions of some enemy of Sejanus. The rheto- 
 ricians who daily read to the Emperor their 
 tedious declamations, instilled into him that 
 horror of Home, or that fear of popular power, 
 which served the purpose of the minister. Se- 
 janus spoke through a thousand tongues, he 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 117 
 
 wrought by a thousand hands, he listened with 
 a thousand ears. Tiberius had his slow rack 
 and axe, but this man's wrath fell sudden and 
 irresistible as the lightning : it was omnipre- 
 sent, and swooped no one could foresee where, 
 when, or on whom. All the intrigues of Cali- 
 gula and his party were to induce the Emperor 
 to return to Rome, and to watch the movements 
 of one who they declared was aiming at some 
 secret and dangerous plot. The Emperor was 
 all indecision. Now he called for a galley to be 
 manned ; now a letter from Rome, informing 
 him that there had been treasonable cries heard 
 in the ox-market and the Yelabrum, drove 
 him back to Capri ; now triremes were fitted 
 up to bear him to the legions of Gaul or Syria ; 
 now he revelled at a debauch, and drank 
 smilingly to his absent friend. 
 
 It was recorded to the favour of Tiberius, 
 that he listened to my praises of his poems 
 with a satisfied smile, and, though not correct- 
 ing what I pointed out, he attended to my cri- 
 ticisms. I soon became his favourite physician, 
 
118 ICEBOUND. 
 
 and sometimes my writings, sometimes my 
 opiates, procured him sleep. 
 
 One morning I found him hot and fevered ; 
 his pulse was violent ; his countenance 
 worn and troubled. He looked more aged 
 than when I left him the night before : he 
 was bent and feeble, his knees shook, his 
 hands trembled. He refused to eat, and he 
 bade me darken the curtain of the doorway. 
 
 Everyone I met assumed a saddened 
 face, but I saw that all eyes stole imper- 
 ceptibly to where Caius stood, silent and ob- 
 sequious, by the head of the couch. Con- 
 spicuous among the sympathisers was Livilla, 
 the widow whose hand Sejanus had claimed, 
 not, as it was supposed, without the consent 
 of this woman, who, known to be licentious 
 beyond even the Roman ladies of the day, 
 was accused by public rumour of the death 
 of her husband, and of an intrigue with the 
 favourite who sought her alliance. 
 
 " Oh, the gods, my life and soul!" she 
 sobbed, in a false and wanton voice, " I vow to 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 119 
 
 raise an image to Jupiter the preserver, if 
 but Atropos holds her cruel hand." 
 
 " If she'd spare her vows," said a rough 
 Eoman, who was in the body-guard, " and 
 hold her tongue, the great Caesar might 
 keep cooler, and cheat the three sisters yet. 
 Why, now, this is what I say, friend Gehazi, 
 — how can a man face a shoal of German darts, 
 and yet be crammed into his urn by a mere 
 blast of a fever not hotter than the sirocco. 
 I tell you what " — and here he whispered — 
 " I believe it's all a trap — take care you 
 don't put your foot in it. The old weasel's 
 too much for us, he has got his eye on us, 
 I'll bet a shekel." 
 
 Before I could express my astonishment 
 at my old friend's caution he was gone, and I 
 heard his lusty voice soon afterwards chal- 
 lenging the sentinels on their rounds. The Em- 
 peror had already partly verified his suspicions, 
 by petulantly pushing Livilla from him, and 
 calling for supper to be served in the open 
 court. 
 
120 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " My pulse goes somewhat slower," he said, 
 turning to me ; " but there is a black weight 
 still at my heart, that nothing but blood- 
 letting will remove." 
 
 Ill or not the Emperor ate largely of eggs, 
 salad, and Calabrian hams, ending with a 
 dish of goose liver and truffle sauce, Nea- 
 politan chestnuts and pomegranates from 
 Sorrentum and the gardens of the temple 
 of Minerva. 
 
 A single pigeon circling round the court- 
 yard, he suddenly called for a Thracian fal- 
 coner, who practised the hawking of his country 
 for Ccesar's amusement. The Greek came 
 smiling, and running, and threw up his hawk. 
 
 " By Hercules, what a bird ! " said Tibe- 
 rius. " Look, Caius — now he mounts, mounts ! 
 — now he swoops ! Dead ! for a mina ! — dead, 
 and at my very feet ! Grant it an omen, thou 
 Nemesis of Latium ! What here ? — a scrap of 
 papyrus under the left wing, and writing — 
 ah ! yes ! and from- " and he slipped it in 
 his robe. 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 121 
 
 " Jew," he said to me, drawing me aside, 
 " I love thy nation and honour thy God, to 
 whom I have vowed a temple ; I hold thee 
 indeed as one of the nearest and dearest to my 
 heart. The King of Rome will be here soon, 
 and I must be abed. Tell the slaves I am 
 sick to death, and hush the singing of the 
 spinning-wheels ; quiet, too, at once the noisy 
 dice-players in the vestibule, and that cursed 
 Syren who wearies me with his double pipe. 
 Follow me ; for if this arrow misses, I must 
 take to my catapult, and my war engines." 
 
 As I left the Emperor, to publish to the 
 slaves and courtiers (synonymous terms), the 
 sickness of their chief, I heard the rattle of 
 the wmeels of a Biga, and the next moment a 
 stranger entered, of proud and imperious bear- 
 ing, lackeyed by a dozen running couriers, who 
 tripped at his heels, watching for a gesture of 
 his eye or hand. He was in the prime of life, 
 and a crisp black beard curled round his low 
 chin. His face was handsome, but for two 
 dark stealthy eyes, that seemed never to 
 
122 ICE BOUND. 
 
 regard you in full front, but to watch for you 
 under the ambuscade of the lowering eye-brow. 
 He wore a Spanish cuirass, richly chased and 
 ornamented at the shoulders with bosses of 
 lions' heads ; from his waist hung scales and 
 flaps, terminating in Medusas. His legs 
 were bare, but on his feet were richly orna- 
 mented buskins, of a costly fashion. From his 
 shoulder hung a military sagum, of scarlet 
 Gallic cloth ; his sword was the short 
 and heavy one of the Koman legionary. 
 
 In my hurry I ran against him, and he 
 called out — " What ! a Jew in the palace ? 
 Give him a dozen stripes for daring to thrust 
 himself in the way of a Roman patrician. 
 No, fellow, not now — unbind him, for my 
 lord and master is, I hear, ill, and knows not 
 of my coming. Softly, for perchance CaBsar 
 sleeps, or is busy with the lawyers about 
 weighty matters of the state." 
 
 " My Lord Tiberius," I said, " does not 
 sleep, but is very sick, and will not that 
 any intrude. May I crave your name, sir ? " 
 
THE madman's novel. 123 
 
 "I am Sejanus," said the favourite, proudly 
 drawing himself to his height, and dropping 
 his cloak into the hands of a Sygambrian 
 slave ; as he spoke, he tossed up the curtain 
 that covered the door, and entered the pre- 
 sence with me. 
 
 "Sejanus?" said the sick Emperor, in a 
 weak voice, but still with affected surprise and 
 indignation, " what brings you from Rome, 
 against my special wish, without announce- 
 ment, and without the usual ceremony that 
 befits a palace ? " 
 
 " A motive, Tiberius/' said the wily favour- 
 ite, flinging himself with affected devotion at 
 the foot of the couch, and seizing the old man's 
 languid hand that hung from the coverlet 
 — " that has redeemed so many of my pre- 
 vious errors — one that makes the father forgive 
 the prodigal, and the wife the spendthrift — 
 love; a fear that something went ill at Caprea*, 
 and that Jove, jealous of such a friendship as 
 ours, was forging some weapon to cut the soft 
 silken cords that unite our twin minds." 
 
124 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " No thought, then, of the old man's death," 
 said Tiberius, watching with careful dissimu- 
 lation the countenance of his minister — " no 
 dreams of power, no visions of guilty suc- 
 cession to the throne of the divine Augustus ? " 
 
 Again Sejanus expressed his disinterested 
 and passionate love for one whom he desired 
 not to survive. Might Jove, he said, ordain 
 them a common funeral pile, he should die 
 happy if he knew that — one small urn should 
 hold the mingled ashes of Tiberius and Sejanus. 
 
 " I restore thee to my heart," said Tibe- 
 rius, coughing with the air of a dying man ; 
 " but lend me thy hand, iElius, that I may 
 rise awhile — rest a moment ; tell me whose 
 handwriting this papyrus bears ? ' 
 
 " It is a forgery ! " exclaimed the discom- 
 fited favourite, turning pale. 
 
 "And this, too," said Tiberius, drawing 
 another from his girdle, " which I intercepted 
 yesterday at the same hour." 
 
 " Bribe an augur to warn him of Rome ! ' 
 — (Sejanus read the paper.) 
 
the madman's novel. 125 
 
 u 
 
 Xow, look," said the Einperor, leaping up 
 in full strength, and snatching an axe from 
 the foot of his bed. Sejanus instinctively 
 put his hand to his sword. 
 
 " Do not fear, JElius, but see the old man 
 has some life still," and with a single 
 blow of his axe he clove in two a massy 
 citron table which stood near. With his left 
 hand he then snatched up a silver cup that 
 lay on a table near him, and squeezed it to- 
 gether with a grip, the force of which had be- 
 come proverbial. 
 
 " My Lord Caesar, I thank the gods to see 
 your Herculean strength is not a whit abated. 
 As for these letters, they are but the work of 
 spies that use my name. Were I but one mo- 
 ment alone with you, I could convince you 
 of the plots of my enemies, and of my own 
 unabated truth." 
 
 With a wave of his hand Tiberius cleared 
 the room, and the halls were soon filled with 
 a huge crowd of whisperers engaged in fore- 
 telling the favourite's downfall. It was ru- 
 
126 ICE BOUND. 
 
 nioured that the Emperor had always had sus- 
 picions of his loyalty ; that once at a sacrifice 
 he had handed him a leaden instead of a steel 
 knife, and that the way in which he leant on 
 his minister's arm when they met was only to 
 prevent the possibility of Sej anus's drawing a 
 concealed weapon. All sorts of foolish prophe- 
 cies and auguries were hinted. One serious- 
 looking fanatic vowed that the lower part of 
 the last victim's liver was folded inwards. 
 
 Others declared that the Emperor was 
 about to immediately start for Rome, having 
 taken the consulate from Sejanus. Some of 
 the more experienced courtiers, with sour faces, 
 entreating for silence, professed to be able to 
 ascertain exactly what was happening from the 
 sound of the distant murmurs of the two voices 
 in the small apartment branching from the 
 hall where the Emperor and Sejanus now sat. 
 
 "Now," they said, "he demands his be- 
 trothed wife, Livilla, and the Emperor refuses 
 him, for fear of increasing the popular jea- 
 lousies against him. Now Tiberius declares 
 
the madman's novel. 127 
 
 his intention of going to Home, and Sejanus 
 warns him of plots and many dangers. Xow 
 the buzz is higher and more angry — the Em- 
 peror tells him he is too proud and insolent, 
 and requires a curb ; that not content with 
 greatness, he must needs ally himself to the 
 blood of the Ciesars. Xow Sejanus offers to 
 surrender all his titles, and to return as plain 
 freedman to serve at the Emperor's table. The 
 Emperor, indignant at his pride, now orders 
 him into exile — into the fever-haunted Sar- 
 dinia, where he can't live a twelvemonth. " 
 
 Every now and then, at the summons of 
 the imperial voice, an order was sent for a 
 trireme to be instantly equipped, for an escort 
 of guards, for a litter to be prepared for 
 Rome. By the next messenger each order 
 was countermanded. The Emperor seemed 
 distracted by the multifarious procrasti- 
 nations ; once we heard a sword flung vio- 
 lently on the floor, and the next moment a 
 bronze seat thrown down, but none dared to 
 disturb the conference. Then came passion- 
 
128 ICE BOUND. 
 
 ate expostulations, angry questions, and lastly 
 long dialogues of familiar conversation. 
 
 The last message of Tiberius had brought up 
 two quaternions of soldiers. The enemies of 
 the favourite believed his doom was sealed ; 
 but suddenly the curtain drew up, and the 
 Emperor appeared, smiling and talking, leaning 
 on the arm of his favourite. 
 
 " Farewell," he said, " thou one-half of my 
 life, may the gods of Rome guard thee and 
 reward thee as thou hast deserved." 
 
 With a low and Oriental obeisance Sejanus 
 bent and kissed the Emperor's hand ; then 
 strode out slowly, exchanging smiles with his 
 friends, and frowns with any malign eye that 
 met his. 
 
 " Friend," said Tiberius to me that night, 
 as we read the love verses of Gallus together ; 
 "you must hence to Eome for me, and Macro 
 with thee. When men offer a bull to Xeptune, 
 they need one to wield the axe and one to 
 hold the rope." 
 
 He is always talking of victims, this Cresar, 
 
the madman's novel. 129 
 
 I thought ; but I shrugged my shoulders and 
 bent my head in silence as I girded my robe. 
 
 "Thy nation is curious in poisons," said 
 Macro to me, as we rode together that night ; 
 " so the Emperor tells me ; he says thou hast 
 a drug that will kill a kid in five minutes, 
 which may aid the work." 
 
 "What work?" I said, with an air of 
 surprise. 
 
 " What work?" he said, turning a quick 
 eye upon me, with an expression first of 
 annoyance, then of wonder, which melted into 
 a grim smile. " I have hitherto thought the 
 Jews a wise people," he said, as he turned 
 his head and looked towards Rome. 
 
 *Jr *!r tp "R* *3r 
 
 It was morning when we entered the gate 
 of the city of Romulus.. The seven hills were 
 diademed with marble palaces, which were as 
 crowns ; the gardens lay like strings of jewels 
 round an empress's neck 
 
 Already the defiles of the Suburra and 
 Yelabrum, the poorer parts of Rome, the ox 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 ICE BOUND. 
 
 market and the via lata, were crowded with 
 slaves, carrying strigils (scrapers) and per- 
 fumes to the baths, brawny gladiators hurry- 
 ing with their oil flasks and wooden swords 
 to the fencing schools, and boys going to school 
 with slaves behind them to carry their satchels. 
 Here came a crowd of Syrians with chalked 
 feet being led to the slave market, here a 
 band of Cappadocian porters swinging along 
 with a knight's gilded litter. Huge waggons 
 of Alban stone and Libyan grain thronged 
 the streets, that were so narrow that the in- 
 habitants might have shaken hands together 
 from the top windows of the eighth story. 
 The suburb taverns beside the Tiber were 
 full of noisy sailors, thieves, runaway slaves, 
 and coffin makers, all talking of Sejanus, 
 his return in triumph from Capri, and his 
 anticipated appointment to the tribunate, in 
 anticipation of the succession. I heard a 
 drunken priest of Cybele singing his 
 praises to a crowd of the rabble, who were 
 discussing their bread and strong wine on a 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 131 
 
 tavern bench. "Maecenas!" said one, "why, 
 he wasn't fit to pour out his wine. He gives 
 us games, doesn't he, he gives us bread — 
 and he hates the cursed Jews, doesn't he? 
 Very well then." 
 
 As we rode deeper into the city, its vast- 
 ness awed and astonished me. These count- 
 less temples contained the treasure of the 
 world. This was built with the spoil of 
 Parthia, that with the gold of Spain. " Here 
 Scipio trod," said my delighted guide — de- 
 lighted with my honest admiration — " and here 
 Curtius leaped. Up that hill Caesar climbed, 
 crowned with laurel, and yonder in that hall 
 he fell. The Forum, with its temples and ba- 
 silicas — the Campus Martius, with its theatres 
 and circus — the Pincian Hill, with its gardens 
 of Sallust and Lucullus — the yellow Tiber itself 
 that lay before me — the Palatine, the Esquiline, 
 the Viminal, the Coelian, the Aventine, were all 
 soon familiar to me as the hills around Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 The riches of the open booths and shops 
 
 K 2 
 
132 ICE BOUND. 
 
 astonished me even more. There were the costly 
 Murrhine cups, and those of onyx and amber ; 
 ostrich eggs mounted in gold, and studded 
 with gems ; couches of ivory, inlaid with tor- 
 toise-shell, were in the stalls of the Corinthian 
 silversmiths ; in the sculptor's shed Greek 
 artificers toiled to rival or imitate the works 
 of Scopas and Myron, Phidias, and Praxi- 
 teles. Next door, perhaps, might be a fruit- 
 erer's, with huge golden globes of melons 
 hanging at the door, or speckled monsters of 
 gourds, rolling under the window. There 
 were Venafrian olives, Chian figs, and the 
 leeks of Tarentum. 
 
 Presently we passed a Moorish cook, his 
 glassy dark features set off by a snowy turban, 
 who was carrying home, in small leaden tanks, 
 slung by a pole to his neck, the black fish 
 of Egypt, or the Sicilian lampreys ; round his 
 girdle were slung bundles of fog peckers, or 
 ortolans; and a boy carrying an immense 
 Sabine cheese, ran before him. In this 
 shop hung bladder lanterns, wax lights, 
 
THE madman's novel. 133 
 
 and torches, and in another were Memphian 
 reeds, pen-cases, and piles of plaited papyrus, 
 ready for the author's use. Now came by a 
 patrician in robes of the light Greek fashion, 
 followed by a slave carrying an umbrella to 
 shield his precious complexion from the sun. 
 Now we passed a vintner's, who boasted on 
 his sign of having some ninety sorts of wine, 
 from Sebine and Falernian, Ca3cuban and Sor- 
 rentine, down to vulgar Sabine, and honest 
 Egyptian vinegar. Now through the crowd of 
 swaggering soldiers, Spanish dancing girls, 
 Egyptian priests, begging Jews, Syrian 
 snake charmers, the poor clients going for 
 their morning dole, the Libyan courier-boys, 
 and Cappadocian porters, loads of building ma- 
 terials, and swaying timbers, groaned a waggon 
 laden with Iberian wool, or bales of Indian 
 frankincense and Babylonian hangings. In 
 the market-place and round the fountains 
 lolled itinerant hucksters, selling hot sausages 
 and stewed vetches, while Spanish showmen 
 
134 ICE BOUND. 
 
 and Arab jugglers divided with them the 
 attention of the crowd. 
 
 One sign invited attention to Picentine 
 loaves; another to the now less renowned 
 Cantabrian hams, Lucanian sausages, and 
 Luna cheese. At this stall were the well- 
 known painted baskets for which Britain was 
 famous; and here were slung up Spanish 
 shields and Thracian bucklers, spears, Assy- 
 rian poniards, and the bipennis of Gaul. 
 Here I saw a showman exhibiting an ape, at 
 which he allowed any spectator to fling a 
 lance, amusing the mob by the nimble evasions 
 of the animal. Next him, perhaps, shouted a 
 rope-dancer or a reciter of tragic verses. 
 
 " And what think you of the great Caesar," 
 said Macro, looking away, as if inadvertently, 
 as he spoke. I, knowing the wiliness of the 
 man, to whom the most secret services of the 
 Emperor were ever intrusted, and who even 
 now looked to the world but a mere bluff sol- 
 dier, riding on a careless search for pleasure, 
 though I knew him bound on some special 
 
the madman's novel. 135 
 
 dangerous errand of state, did not reply at 
 once, but, after a few minutes, answered with 
 some monosyllables meaning nothing. 
 
 "A shrewd man," said Macro, eyeing me 
 significantly, " learns as much from silence as 
 from speech. No answer could convey 
 so much to me as your silence ; I begin to 
 think you really honest. Why, Tiberius, or 
 old Sctevola, or that smiling fool Piso, would 
 have met me, ere I had finished my sentence, 
 with a dozen scraps of rhetoric, full of admi- 
 ration for the divinity of Capri. His wisdom 
 they would have compared to Jove's, his poetry 
 to Apollo's, and his skill in governing to 
 Agamemnon's ; but between men of the world 
 why this artifice ? — we know whom we serve, 
 and what we came to do — and " (ringing his 
 sword, as he spoke, with a clash into 
 his scabbard) " let us do it hand in hand, 
 and without any Grecian shuffling. Mars 
 knows I am ready enough to brave the 
 lightning alone ; but if Caesar will send us out 
 as spies on each other, why, so be it ; for you 
 
136 ICE BOUND. 
 
 see I am blunt, though I am a courtier, worse 
 luck ; but still, between ourselves, let me 
 tell you, I think our task about as dan- 
 gerous as that of the German brave, who, to 
 show his courage, rides into the sea, and 
 slashes with his sword at the leaping 
 breakers." 
 
 "What task ? " I said — for I knew of no mis- 
 sion of mine to Rome, save that I was to be en- 
 rolled into the household of the favourite, my 
 introduction to whom had been so ill-omened. 
 Homeless and houseless as I was, and with 
 the weight of the curse at my heart, I cared 
 not where I went, and my life was passing 
 before my eyes like a dream. 
 
 " What task ! " he said, with a violence 
 that astonished me. " Does the priest not 
 know the ox he has to strike when a creature is 
 led in with gilded horns and a garland round 
 its neck ? What task ! do you think, Jew, 
 that this shallow pretence is to deceive an old 
 soldier in this warfare of wits ? Does 
 the engineer know what is meant against the 
 
the madman's novel. 137 
 
 city when the earthwalls are thrown up ; the 
 slingers begin to melt the lead, and the tortoise- 
 man to wheel the ram and join the shield. 
 I wish I had had some bolder man though, 
 as Junius, who rides in at once on the spears, 
 and flings his helmet in the German's face. 
 Though I am an old courtier, I like bold 
 open counsel in these dangerous affairs. Keep 
 the smile on the face, and the knife in the 
 sleeve for every-day work." 
 
 "T\ r hy do you smile?" I said, for I saw 
 him then looking at my saddle-bow, where 
 the leather-bag hung that contained the more 
 precious of my medicines. 
 
 " Laugh — only to think that this sober- 
 visaged man, sly as a flamen or a Syrian 
 eunuch, carries at his saddle stuff that would 
 turn a king blue in an hour, and kill a kid in 
 three minutes. Behold, I feel ready to cry out, 
 comes one who brings to Rome opiates that will 
 give the old man the sleep the young man prays 
 for — that will give rest to love, anger, envy, 
 
138 ICE BOUND. 
 
 and even ambition. You turn quack, and Til 
 be your mime." 
 
 " I am a physician, and not a poisoner," I 
 exclaimed, angrily, spurring my tired horse ; 
 " and I come as Jehovah's minister alone, to 
 comfort and to soothe — to bring rest to the 
 great, and forgetfulness of sorrow to the 
 afflicted." 
 
 " Rest to the great ! " cried Macro ; "yes, 
 very true," and he laughed grimly, and 
 brushed the red feather of his helmet. 
 
 " Oh, the sly Jew," I heard him mutter, as 
 he asked the way to an inn in a retired 
 part of the Transtiberine quarter, near the 
 Temple of Fortune. 
 
 " What do you ?" I said, as he suddenly 
 leapt off his horse, thrust the bridle into 
 my hand, and ran into the open temple. 
 
 " Just one prayer for success," he said, as 
 he returned ; " I thought, too, the silver eyes 
 of the goddess shone on me propitiously. 
 Was that thunder on our right hand not a 
 good omen?" 
 
THE madman's novel. 139 
 
 " Success in what?" I exclaimed, anxiously. 
 
 He did not answer me, but rode furiously 
 on, and never turned his bead. 
 
 "Too late to-nigbt — to-morrow for the 
 work — I sup witb Sejanus at tbe fifth hour 
 — and which is the poison for the bird?" 
 he exclaimed, with affected innocence and a 
 meaning smile, as he handled my various 
 packages. 
 
 I made no answer ; but, surprised at his 
 importunity, pushed him a harmless powder, 
 the basis of a cosmetic well known to the 
 beauties of Judea. 
 
 " Is this for the cup or the dish?" he said, 
 eyeing me closely. 
 
 " For neither," I replied, rising from my 
 seat. " Understand me, Macro, I am a Jew, 
 and understand not these black deeds ; I would 
 do harm to none, the very fly I drive from my 
 wine cup ere he drink. I will meddle in 
 none of these dark crimes. I will not be 
 a courtier's tool." 
 
 " And you received no commission from 
 
140 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Tiberius?" said Macro, fastening his cloak 
 with angry haste. 
 
 "None," said I; "he merely touched ray 
 medicine case and said, 'Rid me, then, of this 
 gnawing pain, and hold me thy debtorfor ever/" 
 
 "And call you that nothing; do you ex- 
 pect Cassar to speak plainer ? " 
 
 "Nothing," I said. 
 
 " Then thou art either as wily as Ulysses 
 himself, or the poorest gull that ever mixed 
 up chalk and water," said Macro. 
 
 Exchanging no more words, I soon after 
 fell asleep. It was the fourth hour of the 
 ensuing day ere I awoke, and with that 
 drowsy numbness about me that proved to me 
 that I had partaken of some narcotic. 
 
 I asked the busy landlord for Macro — he 
 had gone out with a slave, who had brought 
 him a gay banqueting dress full two hours 
 since — soldiers of rank and senators had 
 been, he said, all the morning in his room. 
 I looked round the place for my medicine- 
 chest, for some remedy for a sickness that 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 141 
 
 beset me. I examined my packets, and found 
 a poison, which I kept apart, in a secret 
 pocket of a case, gone! 
 
 Xo time was to be lost ; so drinking off 
 a cup of vile myrrhed wine, I asked for the 
 palace of Sejanus ; a flat-nosed, thick-lipped 
 boxer, who was reading a notice of games 
 in the Circus, stared at my eagerness. 
 
 " Sejanus's?" he said; " why, there away, 
 that marble mountain there by the gardens 
 of Maecenas, to the right of the Pincian, on 
 the Esquiline." 
 
 I girded up my robe and ran ; the crowd 
 I jostled thought me a runner exercising — an 
 angry centurion struck at me with his vine 
 stick — some brawny fair-haired German slaves 
 tried to trip me up — I ran against a fat 
 priest of Isis, and soiled his white linen robes 
 — I shook the litter of some old republican 
 patrician, and his slaves chased me through 
 narrow lanes, across market-places, up hill, 
 past hovel, shop, palace, temple, foun- 
 tain, right through the Campus and its 
 
142 ICE BOUND. 
 
 Egyptian obelisk and golden sun, up to the 
 Esquiline. 
 
 At the door a slave I jostled seized me by 
 the arm. 
 
 " What ! not know me," he said, " not the 
 snake-charmer, who baffled Lazarus at the 
 Red Sea — not the courier of Sejanus, who 
 can drive six wild horses, run down a wild 
 deer, and throw a knife to a hair's breadth ? ,: 
 
 I seized the opportunity. " Here are fifty 
 pieces of silver," I said. 
 
 " So I see ; and very good silver too. 
 What shall I do for this? — you can get 
 a father removed, or a troublesome wife 
 quieted." 
 
 "No fooling, slave," I said; "lend me a 
 waiting-dress, and let me visit the banquet. 
 Let me stand at the door with a fowl, or 
 carry the amphoras from the cellar — any- 
 thing, so I see the guests and this great 
 lord of Rome." 
 
 "Lord indeed !" said the quondam juggler, 
 with a grin. " Here he is consul and priest, 
 
the madman's novel. 143 
 
 sending whom he likes to the dogs, feeding both 
 the asses of Rome, and the lions that amuse 
 them. And now comes Macro with a message 
 that Tiberius must needs make him Tribune. 
 Talk of Mars and Venus — here is the god to 
 worship ! But what brings you here ? Is 
 Jerusalem grown too healthy or too wise for 
 your trade ? or have you killed them half, and 
 left the rest dying ? — eh, man ? And what 
 trick is this ? But still, for fifty pieces of 
 silver a man can do anything — even get a 
 courier to hold his tongue." 
 
 I shall never forget the sight when, properly 
 disguised, and bearing a huge chased silver 
 dish for mixing wine, I entered the banquet- 
 room of the favourite. On couches round a 
 centre table, which was covered with an Eas- 
 tern embroidered cloth worked with gold 
 thread, sat twelve guests, dressed to represent 
 the chief deities of Olympus. Sejanus — for 
 I recognized him at once — sat as Jove, with 
 a gold thunderbolt in his hand, and a tame 
 eagle chained at his feet, his hair arranged in 
 
144 ICE BOUND. 
 
 the Phidian fashion. By his right side sat a 
 broad-chested noble aping Neptune, with his 
 trident and a robe clasped with a small gold 
 dolphin ; and on the left reclined Macro, fully 
 armed as Mars, and shining in the light of the 
 bronze candelabra, which were formed of rings 
 of dancing Cupids. The hangings of the walls 
 were Indian silks, wrought with golden stars 
 and badges of flowers ; and from the roof came 
 every now and then, through subtle apertures, 
 delicious mists of perfumes, while the smoke 
 of incense crept in at the ivory doors. 
 
 Occasionally the richest dishes were handed 
 round, and cut up by the slave-carver with 
 extraordinary skill and extreme speed — Nu- 
 midian attagens, Sicilian lampreys, and wild 
 boar from the Pontine Marshes — all faded 
 away before his keen and swift blade. The 
 guests laughed and joked at the mimic's ges- 
 tures, the fool's rants, and the graceful gam- 
 bols of the Spanish dancing-girls., who floated 
 in the air, or twined and bounded in mazy 
 fantasies, which the eye could scarcely follow. 
 
the madman's novel. 145 
 
 But the jester was the real centre of mirth. He 
 ran from couch to couch, balancing goblets on 
 his finger, or tripping up the boys who bore 
 golden bowls, chased with reliefs, from the 
 hands of the rarest sculptors of that Corinth 
 that Mummius destroyed. 
 
 "What are you looking for," said Sejanus, 
 " in the wine-jug ? Has a scorpion fallen in ? 
 — or have you found the wit that I lost there 
 in yesterday's ca?na at the villa of Lucullus ? " 
 
 " Neither, my lord," said the buffoon ; " but 
 I look for truth ; for the proverb says there is 
 truth in wine. This is the second amphora 
 I have emptied looking for it, and all I find 
 is, that the more I drink the more lies I tell, 
 and the worse I see." 
 
 " Never go to Ravenna, then," said Se- 
 janus. 
 
 "And why not?" said a guest. "I de- 
 mand, Jupiter, your excellent reason." 
 
 " Because at Ravenna they sell the water 
 and give the wine. Now, a riddle for the 
 twelve gods — one that will make lame Vulcan 
 
 vol. I. L 
 
146 ICE BOUND. 
 
 throw away his crutches, and Pluto laugh till 
 he drops his sceptre. Why has the land of 
 the Chauci no carpenters ? " 
 
 " We give it up," shouted the ten gods, 
 impatient of thought. 
 
 " Why, because the land of the Chauci has 
 no wood." 
 
 " What news from the island of Do-littles ?" 
 said one of the guests. 
 
 " Why, none — but the people of Patmos, 
 who are all blind, have, I hear, chosen a 
 one-eyed king." 
 
 At this sally the twelve gods laughed, and 
 then, as if laughing made them thirsty, called 
 for wine. At once a dozen red arches of wine 
 frothed into their cups, and again the perfumes 
 fell and the incense rose. 
 
 " If Caesar became divine because he slew 
 some thousand Britons, and such cattle, why 
 should not Milo the gladiator be made Con- 
 sul ? " said the jester. " Now, come, knight, 
 answer me that, or I shall deem you not 
 worthy of your three names. And tell me 
 
the madman's novel. 147 
 
 this : — If every Crcsar's to give a name to a 
 month, like Julius and Augustus, what is to 
 be done with the thirteenth Emperor ? " 
 
 " May the gods confound me, Sejanus," 
 cried one of the Olympian deities, whose voice 
 was rather thick with wine, " but this jester 
 of yours gets more libellous every day ! " 
 
 " Why is not Varo here ? " said another, on 
 his right hand, arranging his garland of vio- 
 lets as he spoke. 
 
 " Varo," said Sejanus, with a calm voice, 
 " bled himself to death yesterday, in his bath, 
 by the orders of our good Lord Tiberius, 
 which I had the honour of forwarding to him. 
 A brave Roman and a good citizen — he first 
 made his will, then offered up a prayer, and 
 retired with the lictors to die." 
 
 " What, Varo ! " said one — " why, we met 
 yesterday at the Treasury, and he offered me 
 a million sesterces for my pretty dancing- 
 girl ; and I met him afterwards at the Mint, 
 and promised to send him a dish of carp 
 from my own tank." 
 
 l2 
 
148 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " What was his crime ? n said the jester — 
 " was he too rich, or had he too many clients 
 walking at his heels ? " 
 
 " Take away this fool and give him the 
 whip," said Sejanus, angrily; "he grows inso- 
 lent." The next moment the screams of the 
 miserable slave were heard above the laughter 
 of the guests, but no one pleaded in his be- 
 half. With all his virtues, the Eoman was 
 ever cruel. 
 
 "A toast !" cried Macro ; "let us throw the 
 die for the first to give it round. Who 
 throws Yenus? I always throw the dog — 
 curse on it. Yenus, by gad ! — the great 
 Sejanus, favoured of the gods and man, has 
 it. Were I so lucky, I should throw away 
 something, like Polycrates, to propitiate the 
 envious Nemesis." 
 
 " I was born for perpetual summer, 
 Macro," said the favourite — "now, seven cups 
 to the lady that I love." 
 
 As they filled their cups, I observed Macro 
 shake a powder from his sleeve into his cup. 
 
THE madman's novel. 149 
 
 As the hands were raising the cups for the 
 toast, he called, I observed, for a drier wine ; 
 but kept beside him the deadly mixture he 
 had prepared for a fitting occasion. I placed 
 myself behind a pillar, close to his side, ready 
 to save the great Eomanfrom the death of which 
 I seemed about to be the unconscious cause. 
 
 " What is your opinion of the last love 
 verses of Symmachus? " said Sejanus to a 
 critic who was waiting, in some anxiety, for 
 the opportunity of destroying some reputation. 
 
 " Mere frizzled ringlets ! " he said, super- 
 ciliously, and waiting for the laugh that fol- 
 lowed his blow. 
 
 " Have you read the last elegy of Di- 
 norius ? " 
 
 "He steeps his verse in myrrh and un- 
 guents," said the same remorseless judge. 
 
 " By-the-bye," said a fop, who had been also 
 burning to show his wit, " did you hear the 
 reply of Phoebe to her husband when she en- 
 tered the theatre with a crowd of us young 
 fellows at her heels, and at the same time her 
 
150 ICE BOUND. 
 
 mother-in-law came into the next seat with a 
 train of only some half-dozen poor grammarians. 
 No ? Why, she said, ' These young men will 
 grow old with me ! ' Cursed clever hit at the 
 old bird— " 
 
 " She has a smile," said Sejanus, " that 
 would soften a usurer. I heard her the 
 other day at the Circus, when her father, the 
 old republican, complained that she came 
 covered with all the pearls of a Syrian king, 
 that she dressed so to please her husband. 
 The next day she came in plain violet ; and, 
 when he seemed pleased, she said that she 
 dressed so to please her father. By Juno, I 
 would give my bronze Cupid but to kiss her 
 hand." 
 
 " Forty-five thousand knights died at 
 Canna?, yet I would rather have been one of 
 those than have fallen on my sword, in a 
 fright," said a morose-looking man, abruptly. 
 
 " What do you mean, Balbus ? " 
 
 " Mean ! why, our old friend Scaurus last 
 night offered himself as a sacrifice, because 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 151 
 
 the lictors knocked at his gate to invite him 
 to this very oa?na." 
 
 " And you knew nothing of this, Sejanus ? ,: 
 
 "Not a word, upon my conscience ! " replied 
 the favourite, striking his heart, a suspicious 
 rattle at the same time indicating that he 
 wore a breastplate under his festive gown. 
 
 " Your conscience sounds somewhat hol- 
 low," said the satirist ; " but I believe you, 
 for I know Scaurus stood a little in your way. 
 Now, did he not ? Be frank." 
 
 " As much," said the favourite, proudly, 
 " as the worm does in the ploughman's. 
 The fool who died of a knock at the door was 
 no very formidable foe." 
 
 " I am glad, verily," said the critic, " that 
 the fellow made at least one good use of his 
 sword, for he was of a rank Pompeian family, 
 though he was allied to the Aurelii. His 
 wife's brother married one of the Camilli." 
 
 " I never trouble myself about a scorpion's 
 grandfather," said the wit, smiling on his host, 
 whom he wished to propitiate. 
 
152 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " Yerus is right," said Sejanus; " let's talk 
 of love and wine — no matter if there is one 
 urn more in the tomb of the Scauri. Rome 
 has still sons enough. Nor can I think Rome 
 has any right to mourn while I see around 
 me such sages, warriors, and philosophers. 
 
 " Hear him!" said Macro, under breath to 
 a companion. Sages — what ! Messala, who 
 hires witches to draw the moon down into his 
 garden — warriors ! old Donatus, who thinks 
 he deserves a triumphal arch because he put 
 down a bread riot at Lugdunum — philoso- 
 pher ! young Gallus, who studies the laws of 
 motion in dancing-girls and race-horses." 
 
 This was said while the air was ringing 
 with the flatterer's cries of "pulchre!" and 
 " bene! " (bravo). 
 
 " Macro," cried the host, his face radiant 
 with pleasure, "your cup stands full — now, five 
 cups of Csecuban to the health of Phoebe, the 
 pretty widow of the Aventine." 
 
 "Widow!" said Macro. 
 
 " Yes ! her husband died last night at the 
 
the madman's novel. 153 
 
 fourth hour," said Sejanus, quietly, " of disease 
 of the heart ; an hour before he had been busy- 
 in the Temple of Concord and at the Register 
 Office." 
 
 " Sudden deaths increase," said Macro, 
 meaningly, and stirring up the powder in the 
 wine with a rose-stalk from the garland he 
 wore. 
 
 I think he was just about to kiss the cup, and 
 recommend it to his frowning host as a peace- 
 offering, when a stout man, very hot and 
 anxious, ran in, and without ceremony handed 
 a letter to Sejanus. 
 
 " Junius Marcius, are you acquainted with 
 the new work of Domitius Marsus on 
 urbanity?" said Sejanus, smiling, and offering 
 the new comer a seat on his couch. 
 
 "I don't know what you mean," said Marcius. 
 u I come from the baths of Agrippa, and meet 
 Praetorian guards ; I go to the arcades, and 
 meet soldiers ; I walk to the portico of the 
 Graces, and meet soldiers." 
 
 " There are rumours of riots about the new 
 prices at the theatre," said Sejanus; "and I 
 
154 ICE BOUND. 
 
 am unexpectedly called to a meeting ot 
 the senate in the temple of the Capitol ; I 
 must stop these riots, and these " 
 
 " I pass the cup of peace," said Macro, 
 rising and presenting it to his host, whom he 
 regarded fixedly, and I thought with an 
 almost imperceptible smile of triumph. 
 
 Sejanus tool? it, and was about to raise it 
 to his lips with some commonplace on the 
 blessings of friendship, when I rushed for- 
 ward and threw the cup to the ground. 
 
 " It is poison!" I cried ; " see the dog that 
 sniffed those drops that fell upon the door-post 
 is already pining and faint ; in three minutes 
 he will be dead!" 
 
 "Who is this slave?" cried Macro, drawing 
 his sword, and calling for his sandals ; what 
 runaway from the galleys has come here to 
 insult the nobles of Rome — who art thou, 
 rascal ?" he said, seizing me by the throat. 
 
 " I am Gehazi, the physician of Jerusalem," 
 — fresh from Capri — I would have said, but 
 the next instant I felt Macro thrust a handful 
 
the madman's novel. 155 
 
 of his sleeve into my mouth. " Another 
 word," he said, " and I stab thee where now 
 thou standest." 
 
 " Let the fellow alone," said Sejanus, with 
 a generosity I thought peculiar to him. 
 " There may be something in what he says. 
 Look, the dog is dead! Lydia, thou wert the 
 best Molossian that ever pulled down a boar 
 in the rushes. There has been some cursed 
 tampering with the wine, but the slaves shall 
 answer for it. Bibo, order three crosses for 
 to-morrow morning; and first goes up that 
 sly Syrian I bought at Rhodes, for I know 
 he dabbles in cosmetics, and such men learn 
 dangerous secrets — he may tell them charms, 
 to make them give him a passage free. Macro, 
 a word. The character of the man who 
 governed Laodicea so well is above reproach. 
 MVe all know how many statues the wool- 
 sellers of that city have erected to the honour 
 of Priscus Macro." 
 
 I saw Macro's eyes flash fire at this irony, 
 for there had lately been a riot at Laodicea 
 
156 ICE BOUND. 
 
 to pull down a statue set up by a hireling 
 to his honour. 
 
 " No, not yet," said the insolent noble, 
 seeing that Macro was about to hurry off his 
 festive robe and leave the room, the veins on 
 his forehead swelling with rage, and his hand 
 opening and closing as if in search of a 
 weapon. 
 
 " Not yet, good Macro, for I purpose to 
 let Bathyllus, my favourite mimic, furnish 
 us some new and more exquisite amusement 
 before we break up for the senate ; before 
 the wine grows stale, the lights turn dim, 
 and the perfume grows vapid. Bathyl- 
 lus," he said, to the mimic, who was gesticu- 
 lating in a corner with one of the musicians, 
 " give us your last imitation of that great 
 rhetorician of the Basilicas." 
 
 As every face grew settled into a demea- 
 nour of attention, and every voice hushed 
 its slander, praise, sneer, and jest, Bathyllus 
 stepped forward, and, wrapping himself in a 
 toga of the severest anti-imperial cut, com- 
 
the madman's novel. 157 
 
 menced a declamation in the manner and 
 with the voice of Macro. The clever low 
 comedian of the Roman stage, with his droll 
 eye and twisted mouth, imitated with ridi- 
 culous gravity the severity of the courtier's 
 manner — so many words and the right hand 
 up, so many and the left hand went up, so 
 many and the right foot went forward, so 
 many and the left foot went forward — so 
 many inches from the robe the right hand 
 was to be fixed, and so many inches the 
 left. As every eye turned on Macro, and 
 every mouth relaxed with a smile, I thought 
 I never saw a proud man suffer so much as 
 Macro ; I saw that his long habit of re- 
 serve enabled him to conceal his rage, and 
 in some degree to assume a painful ease ; but 
 ever and anon a burning glance from under 
 his brow at Sejanus betrayed the bitter re- 
 cord that his revenge was laying up for these 
 insults. 
 
 At a universal burst of laughter at the 
 crowning gestures of the mimic the assembly 
 
158 ICE BOUND. 
 
 broke up ; some sprang up and called for their 
 sandals, others tore off their garlands and 
 ilung them in a brazier that stood in a 
 corner of the room, apparently ashamed of 
 the temporary madness that had stolen away 
 their senses — others, planting them firmer on 
 their heads, sallied forth arm-in-arm, as if 
 proud of avowing themselves the subjects of 
 Bacchus. Some, not forgetful of religion, or 
 at least willing to colour their debauch with a 
 religious form, sprinkled their incense in the 
 braziers, flung it up into the lamp flame, or 
 emptied the last drop of their wine-cups, as a 
 niggard libation to the gods who had loaded 
 them with their gifts. 
 
 I, mixing with the slaves, observed Macro 
 thrust his sandals angrily on his feet, and 
 strike the page who brought them ; then, 
 pushing through the crowd, I heard him 
 whisper in the ear of Sejanus — " A drop of 
 blood for every jest/' 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! my friend," said the favou- 
 rite, turning sharply and regarding him 
 
the madman's novel. 159 
 
 fixedly in the face, with that cool smile of 
 contempt that is so maddening to pride, 
 " that wine the dog could not drink has 
 got somewhat into your head ; the fumes will 
 go off in the cool air ; and I owed you, too, 
 a turn for your trouble in mixing that vintage. 
 Adieu — we meet again anon in the senate." 
 
 " Friends," he said, " let us go for half- 
 an-hour to see a grapple in the amphitheatre 
 of Metellus ; by that time the senate will 
 have met ; the gods only know, friends, 
 what bounties I shall lavish on the faithful 
 and the true when I am once tribune, and 
 have power to switch down these flies that still 
 vex us with their stings. As for you, Jew," 
 he said, turning to me, " I thank you for pre- 
 serving my life. I enrol you at once in my 
 service as Tiberius wished me ; and though I 
 detest your nation, I present you with this 
 gem as a mark of my gratitude." 
 
 As he spoke he drew from his finger the 
 splendid Grecian gem which served as his 
 signet, and thrust it into my hand. 
 
160 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " No thanks," he said ; " I allow no thanks 
 — what I give I give as Jove gives, wishing 
 no return." 
 
 "Behold a god!" cried a few of his para- 
 sites, and fell on one knee. 
 
 By this time we had reached the amphi- 
 theatre, and passed through the double colon- 
 nade, which was re-echoing with the roar and 
 growl of wild beasts, the laughter and the earth- 
 quake applause of 80,000 people. We received 
 our tickets at the door, and mounted to our re- 
 spective wedges. The first glare of 160,000 
 eyes astonished me ; for they were all bent, 
 with gloating eagerness, on the struggling 
 swordsmen in the sandy arena below, which was 
 already marked here and there with patches 
 of dull red. Strict order reigned in this vast 
 assemblage. There was the imperial pavilion, 
 with its Indian hangings and purple canopy 
 — on one side the vestals, saintly and demure, 
 on the other the senators and the knights. 
 Here sat the past tribunes, prastors, and 
 other magistrates; on the left the freedmen 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 161 
 
 and ambassadors. Even the married and 
 unmarried sat apart ; and the young men, 
 noisy and enthusiastic, presented a strange 
 contrast to their graver tutors, who sat behind 
 them. In the third row were the women, with 
 the rabble behind them ; and on the highest 
 bench of all the servants of officers of state, 
 and other favoured persons. An immense 
 mast, rising in the centre of the circle, round 
 which the shrieking, cursing, and furious com- 
 batants drove each other, formed the support 
 for a vast awning of striped canvas, which 
 kept the fierce sun from the spectators, and 
 threw a strange-coloured light on the thou- 
 sands of eager faces. 
 
 At intervals of the games, when a gashedbody 
 had just been dragged out by the slaves' hooks 
 and ropes, or the down-turned thumbs had cast 
 despair into the staggering gladiator, as he 
 reeled, faint and giddy, supplicating mercy with 
 a despairing and filming eye — a sudden fountain 
 of cool water, quickened by perfumes, threw 
 a freshening gust into the heated air, and 
 
 VOL. L, M 
 
162 ICE BOUND. 
 
 awoke the smiles of the ladies, whose fans 
 moved like clusters of coloured flowers 
 shaken by the wind. A rope fence, and a 
 railing with spikes and rolling timbers, guarded 
 the lower seats, where Sejanus and the noblest 
 of his adherents now placed themselves. The 
 spring of no leopard, however fierce — the 
 plunge of no lion, however savage — could 
 there endanger the spectator, though it might 
 drive him back pale and dismayed. 
 
 When all these things grew clear to my 
 eyes, and I could look fixedly down, I saw a 
 procession of gladiators enter, two-and-two, to 
 the blast of straight trumpets, and the impa- 
 tient, fitful beat of drums ; there came some 
 mounted — Moor and Greek, Syrian and Ger- 
 man ; others on foot, matched in height and 
 muscle — Sardinian and Pannonian, Gaul and 
 Arab; some half naked, and others fully clad, in 
 closed helmets, breastplate, and greaves ; the 
 fishermen, with their knotted nets stained with 
 blood, and their deadly tridents — the pursuers 
 with their short strong swords and long square 
 
THE madman's novel. 163 
 
 shields, blazoned with eagles and thunder- 
 bolts. 
 
 Smiling grimly at the plaudits and mock 
 cries of "Habet!" these fierce butchers rode 
 and trampled round the ring, clenching their 
 fists, or swaying their weapons ; a few rubbing 
 their shining oiled limbs; others fastening firmer 
 the deadly cestuses, which covered their im- 
 mense hands and arms ; some smiling at friends 
 in the seats above them, beat the air to express 
 their confidence in their hopes of victory ; others 
 whispered in the ears of their antagonists, or 
 felt the swelling muscles of their own arms. 
 
 I saw, as my brain danced, blow and stab, 
 and thrust and parry — I felt as in a dream, 
 till an unusual stir in the amphitheatre be- 
 low aroused my attention. 
 
 In the centre of the sandy ring, covered 
 with dusty sweat, and streaming with blood 
 from a chop in the shoulder, strode a young 
 Greek slave, perfect in form as an Achilles, 
 agile, symmetrical, and graceful as a young 
 leopard. His beautiful face, though flushed, 
 
 M 2 
 
164 ICE BOUND. 
 
 was calm, and bore an expression of winning 
 frankness. He had already slain a huge black 
 slave who had striven to entangle him with a 
 net, and a Nubian horseman who had attacked 
 him with a javelin. Now, mounted on his 
 wounded horse, he reined up his steed, and 
 prayed for mercy for the love of Zeus ; and 
 he looked at the young men, " by the white- 
 armed Aprodite ; " and he looked up at the 
 circle of the ladies, then, sweeping in a gallop 
 round the arena, he held up his bleeding hands 
 to heaven, His fine clear voice sounded dis- 
 tinctly in the hush. 
 
 " I have a father/' he said, " Komans, 
 an old man, who waits by the banks of the 
 Eurotas for the boy his son, hoping once more 
 to embrace him, and to die in his arms ! 
 Sons ! spare me, for the sake of him who 
 is your father ! Fathers ! spare me, for the 
 sake of him who is your son ! " 
 
 A murmur of applause rang round the ring 
 at this brave lad's appeal ; the majority 
 were for mercy. A few malcontents alone 
 
THE madman's novel 165 
 
 were loud in their contemptuous hisses, and 
 kept their hands turned conspicuously down- 
 wards. The superintendent of the games 
 looked towards Sejanus' seat for his casting 
 vote. 
 
 Sejanus was vexed at the want of enthu- 
 siasm displayed at his entrance, and determined 
 to show his power. Stepping from his seat, he 
 passed into the royal pavilion, and stood up, 
 amid the shouts of his more immediate fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 " Silence the rabble ! " he cried, and the 
 trumpets of his retinue sounded. 
 
 " Pit two of our Grecian prisoners against 
 this runaway actor/' he cried, haughtily; 
 in a few minutes the doors of the dormitories 
 opened, and two fresh antagonists stalked 
 slowly out, looked up and round, and then, 
 poising their axes, advanced with a nod to 
 each other to the attack. 
 
 I saw the brave stripling dismount and kneel 
 for a moment on the sand, heave a deep sigh, 
 then, singing a war Pa3an with a faint voice, 
 
166 ICE BOUND. 
 
 on to the combat. Victory appeared to him 
 hopeless, death inevitable. 
 
 Sejanus, still vexed and irritated at what 
 he termed the insolent demeanour of the 
 populace, seemed to take an inhuman delight 
 in the prospect of the approaching destruction 
 of a stripling on whom the populace had 
 heaped the applause denied to the favourite of 
 the Emperor. 
 
 " He has it ! n he cried, standing erect, and 
 straining his eyes to anticipate the blow — 
 " he has it ! No ! The bungler — and run 
 through the arm too ! Serve him right. 
 AVhat's come to my old gladiator of Rhodes? 
 — old Sepho, who felled the three Germans in 
 one morning ? He gets too fat : he shall have 
 a turn at my country mill, to bring him into 
 wind ; or we'll chase him with a lion, to see if 
 that'll give him a quicker eye and a surer 
 foot." 
 
 Stung by these taunts, which reached him 
 through the medium of the growing murmurs 
 — for the fickle populace were beginning to 
 
the madman's novel. 167 
 
 get weary of one combatant so long holding 
 the championship — the butcher of Rhodes, 
 well known for his strength and ferocity in 
 the ox-market and the slaughter-houses of 
 Rome, as in the frequent seditious risings 
 of the suburbs, drew back, and, swing- 
 ing his weapon, drove it with prodigious force 
 at the shield of his young antagonist. His 
 brutal scheme seemed to be for a moment suc- 
 cessful. The youth reeled at his first blow, 
 and, falling on one knee, bent as if danger- 
 ously wounded. 
 
 The cheers rolled like thunder round the 
 great amphitheatre. But, just as the burly 
 gladiator stooped to strike him a lopping blow, 
 the youth leaped back, and stabbed him to 
 the heart with a fierce side-thrust. The giant 
 fell heavily, and the youth, removing his 
 helmet, wiped his brow and then his sword, 
 shouting a thanksgiving to Zeus. 
 
 During this time an old Greek gladiator, a 
 third, who had remained leaning against the 
 rope-netting that guarded the podium, with his 
 
168 ICE BOUND. 
 
 back turned to the combat, had been employed 
 busily, with a tremulous hand — for he was old 
 and worn — in tying up the laces of his sandal. 
 It was evident that he disdained to assist in 
 so unequal a combat, and reserved himself for 
 some greater danger. 
 
 A thousand voices crying, " No sleeping ! " 
 " Down with the youngster ! n roused his 
 thoughtful and perhaps now phlegmatic na- 
 ture. Tightening his belt, and swaying his 
 axe, he strode deliberately to the fight. Seeing 
 him coming, the discomfited man struck fierce 
 and faster. It was evident the youth's hour 
 had come. 
 
 But at that instant a gleam of recognition 
 lit the old man's eye. 
 
 " My son ! " he cried, " my Crito ! " in a 
 moment he had embraced him, and struck 
 down his last antagonist, who fell dead, cloven 
 to the chin. 
 
 At that moment, Sejanus, seizing the bow 
 and arrow of an archer of the guard who 
 stood guarding the entrance, lodged a shaft 
 
the madman's novel. 169 
 
 in the old man's breast. Staggering towards 
 his son, he fell in his arms, and expired with- 
 out a groan. 
 
 " To the lions with him ! " cried the fa- 
 vourite — " the lad escaped by a trick ! " 
 
 But the moment the attendants broke in to 
 throw him into the dormitories, a tumult, 
 which had hitherto been lurking in secret con- 
 tempt at this deed of blood, broke into open 
 mutiny. Benches were broken into wea- 
 pons, ranks and orders were mingled, the 
 ladies shrieked and fled, the boys huddled 
 back in confusion. In vain the herald called 
 order, and the trumpets sounded the signal for 
 the combat of beasts. A band of the more 
 daring broke down the nettings, and, leaping 
 into the ring, bore off the young Greek in 
 triumph on their shoulders. Others, putting 
 a papyrus crown on the bound-up head of the 
 dead gladiator, thrust him into the imperial 
 seat, from which Sejanus, attended by a strong 
 guard of adherents, clients, and slaves, had 
 now retired. Others, heaping up broken 
 
170 ICE BOUND. 
 
 spears, shields and seats, raised a funeral 
 pile for the dead Greek ; some strewed on it 
 their robes, while others ran for torches. 
 
 " This is the climax of this wretched inso- 
 lence," said an old soldier to me ; " Jove 
 first maddens those whom he is willing to 
 destroy." 
 
 " Is such a man fit to reign ? " cried an 
 orator, mounting on a bench. 
 
 " No — not to live !" cried a hundred spec- 
 tators, waving their swords. 
 
 " The grain fleet is wrecked, citizens/' 
 said a baker, evidently rejoiced at the 
 news, " and we all know what that is an omen 
 of." 
 
 " Not of cheap bread, so hold thy tongue, 
 short- weight," said a woman in the crowd; 
 and the baker fell back with that painful 
 smile which shows that a man is abashed. 
 
 " What I say is," cried a fisherman of the 
 Vesta Street, "that the plebs don't get 
 euough feasts, and bread tickets, and fish 
 get so scarce an honest man can't live." 
 
THE MADMAN'S NOVEL. 171 
 
 " Well, then, there is all the more room for 
 you," said the virago, clearing a way with her 
 tongue ; " and for what good deeds, can any 
 one tell me, is this blood-sucker to be made 
 to-day tribune ? " 
 
 " To the senate-house ! n cried a loud- 
 voiced fellow, who gave the catchwords to 
 the mob. 
 
 Partly out of curiosity — for I cared not 
 where I went — I followed the crowd to the 
 temple of Juno in the Capitol, where the 
 senate was now sitting. I was surprised to 
 find every avenue guarded with troops of the 
 Praetorian guard, which Sejanus himself com- 
 manded. I observed they got in knots and 
 whispered, and that their officers occasionally 
 passed through their ranks, as if verifying 
 their watch-word. 
 
 " He promised us three hundred sesterces 
 a man," said one veteran as I passed, casting 
 up the items on a drum-head as he spoke, 
 " besides a public banquet to the citizens, and 
 
172 ICE BOUND. 
 
 free shaving for a year. But hang the citi- 
 zens — that does us no good." 
 
 I wondered who had offered this largess ; 
 but when I asked, the soldiers laughed — their 
 white teeth showing through their black 
 beards ; and one of them said — " Who? — why, 
 who but the old fellow without hair ? " Now 
 I knew this was the soldier's nickname for 
 Tiberius ; and I augured mischief, for I re- 
 membered the mysterious hints of Macro, and 
 knowing his fierce and crafty nature. 
 
 "What is the matter with old Macro?" 
 said one, breaking into the circle, and clap- 
 ping a centurion on the back with a blow 
 that would have felled a tailor — " he spits 
 fire and looks dangerous. I wouldn't let 
 such a firebrand be in the senate." 
 
 " He don't put up his horses with the new 
 king — that anyone can see." 
 
 " Not he," said another. " He doesn't 
 like anyone to be his charioteer." 
 
 While I was standing listening to this 
 gossip of the Ca3sarians, who were full of what 
 
the madman's novel. 173 
 
 old Crassus would have done years ago had he 
 only got to Parthia with twenty eagles, when 
 a slave of Tiberius ran up to me. He bore 
 sealed tablets and a roll, and put them in my 
 hand. I opened the tablets. They were from 
 Macro. The letter ran : — 
 
 " You have been false to Tiberius, and de- 
 serve death. To redeem your life read the 
 roll the bearer will give you in an hour's 
 time in the senate-house. The guard have 
 orders to let you in. Say aloud — ' This by 
 the last courier from Capri.' " Macro." 
 
 Concealing the roll beneath my cloak I 
 was at the senate-house at the appointed 
 time. I entered and found a creature of 
 Sejanus speaking of the tribunate which the 
 Emperor was about to bestow so justly on 
 his favoured subject, and proposing that his 
 statue should be placed in the holy circle 
 of the Pantheon, into which even Augustus 
 himself had professed himself unworthy to 
 be admitted. 
 
174 ICE BOUND. 
 
 A buzz of servile applause ran round the 
 room, and Sejanus, snuffing up the incense, 
 sat Avith his arms folded, in his own estima- 
 tion, if not a god, at least a Caesar elect. 
 Great schemes of dominion were revolving 
 in his mind, perhaps, too, a plan of 
 conquest in Britain, or means of bringing 
 flamingoes quicker from the East, and tran- 
 sporting fresher to Rome the oyster which in 
 the Bay of Baias is known as u the ear of 
 Yenus." 
 
 On seeing me Sejanus nodded, and every 
 one was silent. He rose — "I see, senators," 
 he said, " the man that, I am told, was to 
 bring the grant of the tribunate to me from 
 Tiberius — may he read the roll he carries, 
 senators ? " 
 
 " Let him read," cried a dozen voices. 
 
 "Hush!" cried a lean debater, well known 
 and dreaded in Rome — I suppose by a 
 prepared plan of Tiberius's — " I would first 
 crave leave to denounce to the tribune elect 
 and the Emperor, a man who, abusing the con- 
 
THE madman's novel. 175 
 
 fidence of Ca?sar, has deluged a certain city 
 of Italy with blood — has carried off honest 
 men's wives as slaves — has misappropriated 
 public money — has given to the lictors rods, 
 good citizens — has, in a word, been false both 
 to gods and men. What, Sejanus and sena- 
 tors, should be such a man's doom?" 
 
 "Death!" cried Sejanus; "but in what 
 city lives such a wretch, and what name 
 does he disgrace?" 
 
 " The city is Home," said the debater — " the 
 wretch's name is Sejanus — soldiers!" (here he 
 shouted to the guard) " seize this man !" 
 
 I remember that at this moment, as if at 
 some pre-arranged signal, the temple doors 
 burst open, and the soldiers rushed in, fol- 
 lowed by a mob fierce as wolves and blood- 
 thirsty as tigers. 
 
 I remember a whirlpool of swords striking, 
 clashing, hewing, all at one red-plaited robe, 
 all at one groaning, cursing, screaming human 
 creature. I remember a storm of slaves, with 
 ropes dragging out with shouts a dead, man- 
 
176 ICE BOUND. 
 
 gled body. I remember a weeping woman in 
 a white mantle falling on the body, and being 
 instantly trod to death. The shouts were as 
 of many seas. Suddenly a stone from a 
 sling struck me to the ground — I saw a pale 
 face crowned with thorns appear in the air — 
 and awoke to find myself in — Bedlam ! 
 
177 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO SIDERFIN'S 
 WELSH STORIES. 
 
 A MONTH had now passed, and we were still 
 fast locked in amid the huge blocks of ice 
 — those links that winter had welded together 
 to form one vast frozen chain around our 
 tight little ship, the Stormy Petrel. 
 
 It was about five days after the reading of 
 my eccentric novel had commenced, that 
 Captain Beaver determined to cut a channel 
 in the ice, so as the better to moor the vessel 
 for the winter season out of the reach of the 
 toppling bergs, whose fall by night used to 
 seem to me as if the very pillars of the world 
 had been thunder-struck and were falling. 
 
 vol. I. N 
 
178 ICE BOUND. 
 
 The work took us fourteen days to accom- 
 plish. AVe began by scratching out deep lines 
 with the boarding pikes, then setting groups 
 of men to cut the pieces across with ice- 
 saws into diagonal blocks, which the seamen, 
 with their usual fan, ingenuity, and heartiness, 
 contrived to affix sails to, and so towed them 
 out on to the wide ice-fields beyond the channel. 
 
 It was a grand day when the vessel was 
 dragged finally into the ice-harbour, crushing 
 the pan-cake ice of the night's growth before 
 her. We had decorated her with flags, 
 because it happened to be Captain Beaver's 
 birth-day. And we should have fired cannon 
 in honour of its being also Christmas-day, 
 but we were afraid of bringing some ice- 
 bergs as tall as churches down about our 
 ears. 
 
 That evening, when we had turned in, we 
 had extra grog served round among the men, 
 and a fiddle set going for those who liked to 
 dance and sing. The officers, however, and 
 the older and staider men, adjourned to the 
 
ICE BOUND. 179 
 
 state cabin to hear the first chapter of Sider- 
 fin's bundle of Welsh legends, one of which 
 was to last the night, serving well to 
 divert our mind from our dangerous position 
 there in the Arctic Seas. 
 
 n2 
 
180 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 There are few people who have travelled 
 through North Wales with any eye for the 
 beautiful or love of the sublime, but must re- 
 member the Yale of Festiniog. From the top 
 of the Merionethshire mountains, that belt it 
 in like old grim warriors, jealous guardians 
 of the enchanted beauty, a wonderful 
 panorama is presented to the view. 
 From either Hawks Mountain, or the 
 White Mountain, Moel Gwdion, or Myndd 
 Mawr, the river Dwyrd may be seen wind- 
 ing its way, singing like a released captive, 
 as from some dark rift in its parent rock 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 181 
 
 it makes its way with gladness to the 
 ocean weltering in the horizon. Before us 
 lies Cardigan Bay, and far beyond the vast 
 altar pile of Snowdon stretches the sea- 
 coast of Caernarvon, glowing in the sun. 
 Every spot is surrounded by a halo of 
 legendary recollection : here runs the half- 
 obliterated Roman road, there the line of 
 the first English march. 
 
 So hemmed in is this beautiful vale, that 
 lies calm as a tarn, hollowed out between 
 these giant mountains, that at once guard 
 and hide it from the rest of the world. 
 Here turbulent chieftains have waved the 
 dragon banner ; here the steel-clad chivalry 
 of the Normans have encamped ; thither, 
 long ago, have the Roman legions won 
 their way from their strong station of 
 Segontium, the ruins of which may still be 
 seen without the walls of Caernarvon, 
 "lis one of the fairest and most peaceful of 
 the Welsh valleys ; more calm and pastoral 
 than the savagely grand Llanberis, more 
 
182 ICE BOUND. 
 
 retired and wild than the modernized Llan- 
 gollen. The rude village of miners at the 
 head of the vale, the cataract of the Cyn- 
 val below, the wooded heights, the rippling 
 stream, now gliding gently on, now chafing 
 with obstructing rocks that bar its pro- 
 gress to its inevitable goal, all contribute to 
 make the scene one highly characteristic of 
 a mountain country. The approach to this 
 hidden spot Nature has carefully barred 
 against intruders; for her wildest beauties 
 are to be disclosed only to the united spell of 
 labour and of love. The country is savage, 
 bare, broken, and beautifully wooded ; while 
 here and there large masses of rock, that 
 no time could crumble, yet shivered by frost, 
 and lightnings, and the thunderbolt from the 
 mountains above, rise up from the thick 
 underwood, clouded over with purple heather ; 
 while from fissures in their surfaces springs 
 up the beautiful foxglove, like a flag waving 
 from a ruined tower. At the present day, 
 the barer tracts are divided by rough stone 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 183 
 
 Avails, loosely built, straggling in irregular 
 lines, bemossed with age, and flecked and 
 stained with white lichen, like the ancient 
 ramparts of a rock fort. These walls are 
 covered with trailing bramble and toothed 
 fern, which nod mocking over the ruin, 
 and wave in the wind to salute the passing 
 traveller. Everywhere through the mossy 
 bank oozes forth limpid water, trickling 
 down in diamond drops, or rippling on with 
 a gentle, gushing sound, that refreshes the 
 ear like the memory of music. So it is 
 by every road and on every mountain : " Deep 
 answers unto deep at the sound of their 
 water-pipes." So it is throughout Wales : tor- 
 rent shouts to torrent, cataract roars to cata- 
 ract, stream calls to stream, rivulet whispers to 
 rivulet, while the deep-voiced thunder of the 
 storm overhead, on some day of elementary 
 tumult, seems like the cry of a chiding 
 angel to the spirits of the waters. Around 
 this vale stretch, in undulating masses, the 
 contorted roots of Snowdon, and the bare, deso- 
 
184 ICE BOUND. 
 
 late marshes of Port Madoc, athwart which 
 Harlech, once the dwelling-place of kings, 
 looks over the sea. 
 
 Round the vale itself, mountains covered 
 thick with oaks slope down to the narrow 
 and rocky bed of the Dwyrd ; while to the 
 distant north the erreat White Mountain towers 
 above its brethren, who have seen wild deeds 
 pass beneath their eyes — scenes of murder and 
 of patriotism wrought out in their stony recesses 
 and darksome caverns. Here and there a black 
 crag, dark as if seared by the thunders of cen- 
 turies, recalls scenes which the cultivated 
 fields, yellow with the harvest, or green with 
 the youth of spring, almost belie. In these 
 hanging woods lie unknown beauties, from their 
 inmost heart comes up the rush of concealed 
 streamlets, or the roar of the falling rapid. 
 The Dwyrd is a type of the mountain stream 
 in its most perfect loveliness. Foaming along, 
 it wanders careless as a younker or a prodigal, 
 chafing at the rocks that block up its bed 
 and shine through its pure waters, washing 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 185 
 
 over their black and polished surfaces ; now 
 rippling over pebbled shallow, where the fish 
 leaps at the fly ; now lashed to rage by some 
 strong barrier, through which it forces a way 
 beneath huge piles of stone, from which grow 
 wild flowers that nod over the tiny wave, and 
 mirror their neglected beauty in the crystal, 
 like village maidens at Eve's first mirrcr ; 
 then in gloomy silence or calm repose, as if 
 weary with the conflict so lately ended, and so 
 soon to be renewed, flowing softly, and linger- 
 ing in deep, black, silent pools, overhung by 
 nodding hazels, or lit up by the gleam that the 
 silver shaft of the birch throws upon the mo- 
 mentary darkness ; haunt for the water-spirit, 
 bath for the wood-nymph, favourite resort of 
 the Welsh peasant-angler, who knows well 
 that under mossy stem and rotting log lurk 
 what he tells us, in very bad English, are 
 "vary big trouse" (brellyll) : on goes the 
 stream through its varied pilgrimage to the 
 wide ocean, bursting out from its dark haunts, 
 where the sun seldom breaks through the star- 
 
186 ICE BOUND. 
 
 proof covering of matted boughs to rejoice 
 again in the sunlight and purer air, like a re- 
 leased captive. To where the trees form but 
 a light-woven tabernacle above its head, and 
 with a shifting golden light of emerald 
 it flows between broad deep banks, through 
 meadows fringed with wild thyme, where the 
 bee dwells the summer day through, and where 
 in the hottest noon, when the reaper sleeps, 
 the glistening dragon-fly and the yellow-banded 
 fly skim over its surface, or swell the silver 
 sound of falling waters with the tiny but 
 shrill hum of their minstrelsy. And in every 
 field around are little rills, pouring in their little 
 tributes of dark peat waters gathered from 
 the swamp and the morass ; and if you climb 
 any of the mountains that rise above the vale, 
 making your way with much difficulty and 
 some danger, by dint of sure eye, firm foot, 
 and trusty hand, clambering over loose rocks, 
 the haunt of foxes, you will hear, long ere 
 you have reached your watch-tower, the sound 
 of water-springs distilling for it through the 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 187 
 
 thick, green, soft moss beneath your feet ; and 
 if you scoop it away with your hand, as a Druid 
 might have done as he clomb to his rock-altar, 
 you will see the pure lymph come bubbling up 
 between your fingers till it forms a little tarn 
 around you, where the wolf and the eagle 
 might have drunk ages ago. 
 
 But it is to a spot even still more beautiful, 
 and some distance to the right of the vale, on 
 the river Cynval, that we would now lead 
 you. It is a warm summer evening, and the 
 swallows are skimming fur their prey over the 
 marshy and dewy meadows. The Cynval is 
 situated in a deep glen, hidden by dark woods, 
 through which a winding and scarcely defined 
 path leads, by broken steps of rock, to a small 
 plateau, hung over by shelving masses of rock 
 and half hid by underwood and winding roots of 
 the trees that cling together above, scarcely 
 wide enough to afford footing for one person. 
 Below you — sheer below you — without one 
 obstacle between you and death but a frail 
 bush, or frailer flower, gapes a deep narrow 
 
1 88 ICE BOUND. 
 
 chasm, walled by precipitous and smooth-sur- 
 faced rocks, of a reddish tint, as if the hue of 
 sunset were petrified upon them. On the 
 other side, and far below you, arched over and 
 rendered dusky and gloomy by the depth of 
 shade, a waterfall leaps madly down, pouring 
 its foaming, narrow flood of water over rough 
 angular masses of black rock, that are all but 
 hidden by the silver veil of spray and the bub- 
 bles tossed up into the air to catch the rare sun- 
 beam ; and form in rainbow-hues another and a 
 still more transient form of beauty. It glistens 
 at night in the moonbeam like a torrent of 
 molten silver, flashing in bright radiance 
 through the coal-black foliage, throwing a 
 shade deeper than that of noon-day. To the 
 double ledge of rock it steals along as if it 
 were heedless or unconscious of its danger, till 
 with a roar and a splashing torrent it falls sud- 
 den to the narrow chasm below ; after gaining 
 which, like one in the calm triumph of escape, 
 who has left its baffled enemies far in the rear, 
 with spent fears and abated force it steals 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 189 
 
 along the vale in open day, a brawling stream- 
 let as peaceful and noiseless as its fellows. 
 Less sublime and terrific than the Pistylls of 
 South Wales, the falls of the Cynval have still 
 an exquisite beauty and unrivalled grace, that 
 steal imperceptibly to the heart. Their gentle 
 voice is the very whisper of Nature herself. 
 How beautiful in the calm peacefulness of 
 a June evening, when a regal sunset is 
 glowing overhead, reddening the western 
 trees, and throwing a melancholy, depart- 
 ing, diminishing light upon the ceaseless tor- 
 rent ! There was something wondrous in the 
 ceaseless volume of water, with its surging 
 thunder, its dewy spray, and embowered rocks, 
 with the dim, obscure recesses, like caverns 
 in which the wood-nymphs sport, and the 
 grey crags peering forth amid the sunlit 
 wood. 
 
 Follow this stream up the valley, and every 
 foot you traverse will present new scenes of 
 beauty, eternally varying. Now it steals 
 along, creeping forth wondrously from deep 
 
190 ICE BOUND. 
 
 red pools in the hollows of crags worn smooth 
 by the torrents of centuries, now it rages 
 along as if some water-spirit had invested 
 it with all the power of evil, and, sweep- 
 ing massive fragments in its course, it falls 
 full forty feet to the bed below ; now splash- 
 ing in tawny-coloured volumes, edged with 
 foam, over shelves of table-rock, and now 
 stealing in a deep but narrow current, under 
 vast horizontal crags that bridge over and 
 almost choke the stream. 
 
 Equally varied in character are the preci- 
 pices that edge the bank : they slope in 
 wooded tiers to the water's edge ; they rise 
 in perpendicular ramparts of immense height, 
 that seem to shut out the very air of heaven ; 
 again in broken ramparts of unequal height, 
 they sink gradually to the stream's brink. 
 What a wild chorus the waters make ! I hear 
 mingling the full diapason of the torrent, the 
 silver ripple of the rill that drips down the pre- 
 cipice, the distant plunging and intermittent 
 
THE MIDNIGIIT MEETING. 191 
 
 thunder of the cataract, and the throbbing 
 plunge of the nearest fall. 
 
 But the wildest scene of all is where the 
 stream grows deeper and more fitful, and is 
 half swallowed up in deep "pots," as the 
 peasants call them, which the summer's heat 
 dries up, and the winter's overflowing fills 
 again, as it wears year by year a deeper channel 
 in the rock, and slowly hollows out a new 
 course for its impetuous pent-up water. 
 Here from the middle of the river's bed rises a 
 grey throne of rocks almost isolated from the 
 bank ; on the roudi summit of some ten feet 
 grow a thousand wild flowers, which shed 
 their leaves upon the water, and are borne 
 away by the tiny waves that are dashing ever 
 unceasingly round its base, as if shouting for 
 its victims, and cover the narrow pier of stone 
 that binds it to the shore. 
 
 On this pinnacle, still attainable by the 
 lonely fisherman, who clambers up here to 
 throw his line with greater advantage into the 
 ripple below, and sit by the hour in mute 
 
192 ICE BOUND. 
 
 communion with the spirits of the wood, the 
 air, and water, that seem to lurk around him, 
 and to be invocable by any spell sufficiently 
 powerful, tradition says some magician, in 
 league with Apollyon, once sat and hurled his 
 curses into heaven. Here a kelpie might 
 whisper weird secrets to the water-wraith, 
 who shrieks over the drowning traveller when 
 the storm is at the wildest, and who waves in 
 yon red pool its long, black dishevelled 
 locks, weltering amid the discoloured foam, 
 where the over-shadowy rock, lit so brightly 
 by the golden moon, sheds so deep a 
 shadow upon the spot, when the storm has 
 lulled, that the heavens seem to grow blue 
 again as you look up from this chasm. 
 
 Truth, however, in this case, as is usual, 
 little less romantic than fiction, affirms that 
 this magician bore the homely name of Hugh 
 Lloyd, and was an old Ironside of Cromwell's 
 army, who retired to these his native solitudes 
 to die in peace. It was in such places as 
 these — wild spots left unfinished by nature, 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 193 
 
 and still half-chaos — that the Scotch Covenan- 
 ters assembled to pray in secret, where the 
 sound of their psalmody might be drowned by 
 the roar of the waters. Far above this spot, 
 which is, indeed, immediately contiguous to the 
 cataract, the stream is joined by another rill 
 that meets it at a right angle, leaps to meet it, 
 dashing its waters in a thin veil over a broad 
 tabular rock, and after this junction they flow 
 on together in peaceful union, like a calm old 
 age after a stormy and tempestuous youth. A 
 mile higher up, among the hills, there is 
 another fall of a very different character. 
 Here to the left, at the foot of crag and 
 mountain, embedded in marsh and bog, half- 
 covered with rush and peat, and intersected 
 by cuttings of deep black water, are many 
 lakes visited only by fishermen, their shores 
 strewn with grey pebbles, treeless, bare, and 
 desolate. To the right, the country slopes 
 into broad, bare, smooth, precipitous, green 
 hills, like mole-hills grassed over. 
 
 Here, between two of these green, rounded, 
 VOL. i. 
 
194 ICE BOUND. 
 
 unbroken hills of enormous height, and where 
 the trustiest mountaineer can scarcely get a 
 foothold, through a very narrow black pass, a 
 torrent of yellow water pours its foaming 
 stream over a fall of some forty feet, with a 
 sound quite appalling in that drear loneliness 
 of solemn solitude. Below, it sinks into a 
 dark channel, black as Lethe with the oozings 
 of the peat swamps. It is a beautiful sight to 
 see, towards sunset, a storm beat up hither 
 from the sea; breaking through lurid clouds 
 dyed red with thunder. The sun at times, 
 piercing these, will burst forth with all its 
 splendour, spite of some envious cloud, bent — 
 
 To dim his glory and to stain the track 
 Of his bright passage to the Occident, 
 
 and shedding a rich and concentrated lustre 
 on the peak of one mountain alone, like some 
 priest pouring on a monarch's head the royal 
 benediction, invests it for a few short moments 
 with all the glory of Sinai at the moment of 
 Transfiguration. Then suddenly a mist of 
 grey darkness will drive up the valley from 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 195 
 
 the sea, and in an instant the rain pour down 
 in drenching torrents on the luckless traveller 
 and fisherman or the miner returning from his 
 labour in the evening. It blows past, and 
 again a golden vapour of clouded radiancy 
 flashes past us stealthily, the storm following 
 on its track like a pursuer. It seemed like 
 those clouds, at first no bigger than a man's 
 hand, and afterwards large enough to cover 
 the whole earth, that, in the Khoran, Mahomet 
 says, God has sent at sundry times and in 
 divers places to destroy sin-spotted cities. 
 
 02 
 
196 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It was almost the sunset of a June even- 
 ing, 16 — , when a man seated himself in a 
 meditative attitude on the throne of rock 
 which we have before mentioned. He looked 
 anxiously at the setting sun, took off his 
 plumed hat, laid it beside him, drew his 
 Provant rapier, flashed it in the sunbeams, 
 drew a pistol from a secret hiding-place be- 
 neath his short cavalier coat, cocked it, 
 handled the lock, and put it back into its lurk- 
 ing corner. He then stood erect, and looked 
 up at a path scarcely visible in the underwood 
 but to a practised eye, still nothing stirred. 
 He shook his head like one dissatisfied with 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 197 
 
 his glance. "Duw a digon" (God is enough), 
 he muttered with the voice of one who de- 
 spaired of his cause, and has all depending 
 on a venturous stake ; then he Dent his head 
 upon his hand, his dark plume falling over 
 and hiding his features. With the sunlight 
 falling upon his noble face, overcast with such 
 a deep air of melancholy, he might have 
 seemed to a poet a fallen monarch musing 
 over his fate, or our own first Charles de- 
 ploring the fury and fanaticism of his subjects 
 in one of his solitary hiding-places. The 
 stranger was of a fair complexion ; his 
 features were almost Grecian in the beauty 
 of their outline ; over his forehead and 
 shoulders fell dark clusters of hair, that 
 hung upon his rich lace collar, and con- 
 trasted, as the old painters knew so well, 
 with the dark velvet of his doublet, and the 
 soft shadows thrown by his short cloak. But 
 his meditations had not lasted long when a 
 sound caught his ear in the thick copse on the 
 right bank, and the practised ear of a soldier 
 
198 ICE BOUND. 
 
 heard it above even the fall of the torrent. 
 In a moment, with the practised foot of a 
 mountaineer, and of one who had scaled both 
 the rude ramparts of nature and the weak 
 stone piles with which man attempts to baffle 
 his brother-worm, in an instant he had hid 
 himself behind the largest rock, watching 
 the cause of the disturbance, with the 
 cool determination of one practised in war- 
 fare, or rather with the keen, fiery eye of a 
 panther waiting beside some forest pool for 
 its prey. 
 
 In the swiftness of descent, however, a gust 
 of wind caught the broad brim of the cavalier's 
 hat, and whirled it far into the calm surface of 
 the stream, down which it floated towards the 
 fall. At the moment it fell, a louder rustling 
 was heard among the trees, and from behind a 
 sudden turning of the rock, richly hung with 
 trailing ivy and rude tapestry of the birdweed 
 and the flowering clematis, stept forth a 
 man, who, by his sombre buff band, red jer- 
 kin, steel skull-cap, and polished corselet, 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 199 
 
 seemed to be a dismounted trooper of the 
 Parliamentary faction. Trampling a way to 
 the water's edge, with an eagerness that his 
 stolid and sour face would seem scarcely to 
 have promised, he dipped a heavy halberd that 
 he held in one hand into the stream, and soon 
 drew the fugitive hat towards him. On the 
 very edge of the fall he arrested it, not without 
 difficulty keeping his footing on the slippery 
 stones half covered by the water. Lifting the 
 hat in his hand, and wringing the water from 
 the dark plume, he looked at it with a gaze as 
 expressive of astonishment as any face could 
 display, that had never brightened at anything 
 before but the sight of a full tankard, and 
 whose brain had been addled by discourses of 
 interminable length from the lips of the arch- 
 rebel Prynne himself. Then, with the air of a 
 huntsman, who, following slot, has traced a 
 wounded deer by blood drops to the very covert, 
 he commenced at once a diligent search for the 
 wearer of the vain adornment. Tightening his 
 belt, getting his halberd ready as if it were a 
 
200 ICE BOUND. 
 
 musket in his hand, and clapping on his sallet, 
 or morion, firmer, the Puritan retraced his way 
 slowly to the path which led to the front of 
 the pulpit rock ; observing the flowers trodden 
 down, and the bushes beaten aside as if by a 
 heavy tread, he half shouted some Scriptural 
 form of rejoicing over an outwitted enemy ; 
 but checking himself with difficulty, he pur- 
 sued his search with all the steady and inflexi- 
 ble perseverance of an old hound certain of 
 the scent, but for a moment thwarted. Screen- 
 ing his eyes with his hand from the red rays 
 of the setting sun, he strained them to catch 
 a glance of some companion whom he seemed 
 to expect, as he cautiously beat over twice 
 every inch of thicket that could conceal a 
 lurking foe. Then, apparently satisfied with 
 the vigilance of his search, he seemed to think 
 that on the other side, if at all, lay the am- 
 bush. For a moment he stood uncertain, one 
 foot on a stone half covered with the water, 
 the other booted foot on the rock of the shore, 
 his head bent forward like an Indian's on a 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 201 
 
 war-party, his ear tense and strained to catch 
 the faintest whisper of danger that might be 
 borne upon the breeze, or that might pierce 
 the deafening thunder and the ceaseless plunge 
 of the water. It was a fine sight to see that 
 hard stern soldier, with every sense braced, 
 every faculty drawn at once into action. With 
 the cautious instinct of a veteran, the trooper 
 decided on the ford. Unbuckling his sword, 
 lest its metal-mounted sheath should clink 
 against the rocks, he held it in one hand, 
 while with the other he quickly divested him- 
 self of his corslet, and hid it beneath a bush, 
 lest the sun's rays glittering on its polished 
 surface should catch the eye of some fugitive, 
 lurking, perhaps, even now, like a hare trem- 
 bling in its form, waiting, as if fascinated, for 
 his captor. 
 
 But, for a moment, when all these prepara- 
 tions were completed, he stood, like one light- 
 armed and equipped for a storming party, in 
 hesitation. Over the mind even of this rude 
 soldier crept a shadow of fear, of superstitious 
 
202 ICE BOUND. 
 
 fear — of fear rather of immortal than of mortal 
 foes. Fanaticism had in him rather heightened 
 than repressed the spirit of the age. In that 
 moment, like the flash of heaven's fire, came 
 up in his memory thoughts of tales that he 
 had heard by winter hearths — of saints en- 
 countering the enemy of mankind in wild 
 scenes like this, where the saints had sought to 
 escape from the persecutions of their fellow- 
 men. The soldier was one of those enthusiasts 
 who formed, at this early period of his progress 
 to supreme power, the very soul of Cromwell's 
 army. He believed that the millennium was 
 at hand, and that Christ waited only for the 
 total defeat of the Dragon by the followers of 
 the Lamb, to descend to earth, attended by 
 all the crowned companies of the blessed. 
 And it was thoughts of the muster that the 
 devil was making of his forces, amongst whom 
 Charles Stuart, those " gifted in the word n 
 believed, would not be last, that now filled 
 his mind. But he waved his hand, as if 
 defying his invisible antagonist, and ex- 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 203 
 
 claiming half aloud, " There'll be hotter work 
 than this in Armageddon," strode quickly 
 across the stream. The second step was above 
 his boot-tops ; the third it ran shallower ; with 
 difficulty saving himself from a fall, as his 
 sword flew out of his hand, and with something 
 very like a curse, this son of Cain stooped for 
 his weapon, that had fallen some feet off, with 
 a ringing noise, upon a ledge of rock hidden 
 by only about an inch of water. 
 
 With eager eye, and heart throbbing with 
 excitement but not with fear, the cavalier had 
 been watching every motion of his unconscious 
 foe ; not a muscle of his face had moved with 
 his knowledge. Already he had clearly descried 
 the rogue's intentions, and satisfied himself 
 that he had as yet no suspicion of his hiding- 
 place. His heart beat so loud that it seemed 
 to knock with violence against his breast ; he 
 could not choose but hear it. Another stride, 
 and the Puritan soldier had put his very foot 
 upon the rock behind which he crouched ; — he 
 must clamber over — one ready foot on the 
 
204 ICE BOUND. 
 
 nearest tufts of purple heather and scented 
 thyme, one hand above his head on the rough 
 tufts of broom that grew from a higher cleft. 
 Now was the time. Drawing his sword, the 
 cavalier plunged it into the defenceless breast 
 of the climber. Slowly his grasp relaxed, 
 heavily he sank backward, and fell with a 
 groan and a deep plunge on the rock below — 
 the huge body of the dying man sank with a 
 deep, dull, hollow sound, like that so well 
 known to those who have seen a burial at sea ; 
 the scale clasp of his steel cap breaking and 
 coming off in his fall, and the helmet rang as 
 it sank and struck upon some concealed rock 
 in the bed of the torrent. He never rose 
 again ; not even a groan showed that a soul 
 had passed into eternity. 
 
 So sudden had been the scene, so true the 
 blow, so providential the escape, that the 
 cavalier for a moment remained as if entranced, 
 gazing on the corpse that looked up at him, 
 with pale, distorted face, through the clear 
 water, which the blood, welling from the 
 corpse's mouth and from a deep wound in the 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 205 
 
 breast, slowly discoloured and turned to purple. 
 With a shrill scream a large hawk that, with 
 a wonderful instinct and quickness of ear, 
 sight, or smell, had already caught the scent 
 of death around him, like some incorpo- 
 rated form of sorrow, hovered about his 
 head, as if it would attack the living since 
 the dead were not to be seen. With a tame- 
 ness that seemed almost supernatural at the 
 moment, it perched for a second upon a rock 
 near, on which some drops of blood had 
 fallen, and then flew up again, wheeling in- 
 quiringly around. AYith a quick impatience, 
 the cavalier drew his pistol from the breast of 
 his doublet, and was about to fire at the bird, 
 but he lowered the point and replaced it, 
 with a smile, in his doublet. 
 
 " It is well— I had forgot," he said ; " God 
 prompts the poor bird to scent out the blood 
 with which man bedews his earth. Let the 
 bird of the torrent prey, if he will, on the 
 flesh of this beggarly, scurvy man-hunter." 
 
 " The blessing of the Lord and his saints be 
 on thee," cried a deep, low voice from the 
 
206 ICE BOUND. 
 
 thicket, that had not even waved or rustled at 
 his approach, and an elderly man, clad in a 
 cassock and band, advanced, and waved his 
 hand in greeting from the shore. His fea- 
 tures had a benevolent cast, yet overshadowed 
 by the misfortune that had fallen on his own 
 roof-tree, as on the kingdom at large, or both 
 together, and his cheek was hollow, as if it was 
 concealment and scanty food that had helped 
 to dull his eye. 
 
 " Welcome, good minister of Christ, at our 
 rendezvous," said the cavalier, with a tone of 
 glad recognition. " What tidings bringest 
 thou from Caernarvonshire? — are the true 
 men strong there ?" 
 
 " God be thanked, they are, though for 
 fourteen days I have lurked like an outlaw in 
 a poor hut, hemmed in by bog and marsh, 
 with no richer viands than a black loaf once 
 in four days, and no better Xeres than some 
 water as black as ink. And you, Sir Charles, 
 where tarried you ?" 
 
 " I have lain perdu for some five weeks — 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 207 
 
 they seemed centuries — in a wood-loft above 
 the stable of a poor cotter, some dozen miles 
 from hence, as merry as a scurvy rogue in 
 the pillory, or a bear with a chain round his 
 middle. But when I was just sharpening my 
 rapier for a foray, I suddenly heard the jingle 
 of sword against steel-bound saddle and stirrup. 
 I looked forth through a hole no bigger than 
 a mouse's, that I had made for breathing, 
 and I saw a troop of horsemen, whose leader 
 I knew was loyal to the backbone. I leaped 
 out ; such a leap no Pagan ever effected, 
 joined them, and told my tale. Never was 
 friend welcomed more cheeringly, for Deveril 
 had heard that a pike had ended my days at 
 Naseby. Never shall I forget, good doctor, 
 the angry ringing of their swords ! Xever 
 bride heard marriage bells with more delight. 
 Half dead with cramp and dulness, I longed 
 for a change ; and would have greeted with 
 joy a band of d — d fanatics, though they 
 had come to strike off my head, which now 
 seems firmer on than ever, after the loose way 
 
208 ICE BOUND. 
 
 in which it has been since yesterday se'n- 
 night. Deveril told me that they were sent 
 with provisions from Caernarvon, and with 
 orders to break into Harlech Castle now be- 
 leaguered by that cursed malignant, Mytton ; 
 and they had heard that the people here- 
 abouts were enraged at the exactions of the 
 besiegers, and had by them concealed arms, 
 which they would use had they once a leader." 
 " The glad news reached me too/' said 
 the doctor, sitting down, like one worn out 
 with watching, on the nearest reck, " in 
 my dog-kennel, and hearing of this lonely 
 place, whither a well-affected peasant led me 
 — by token, I paid him with my last broad 
 piece and my blessing — I determined to tarry 
 here, and offer a prayer to Heaven for the 
 success of our cause, which is, God knoweth, 
 so righteous. It w r anteth but five minutes to 
 the hour of meeting ; we are to be under the 
 north bastion ere eight, disguised as waggoners, 
 and driving carts covered with canvas and 
 driftings of hay, concealing stalwart men, and 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. i\ J 
 
 a goodly stop f petards, if 1 1 of 
 
 _•-. Pardon me. Sir Charles — :ard:n 
 
 • ; . ■■ ■:'.. • i hou?e." sai 1 :he 
 
 doctor, suddenly rising from Lis seat, thr:w- 
 
 ing himself on his knees, and seizing the hand 
 
 of the : ;t nishe i _ ^ntleman. 
 
 '•Get up. get up. g;od doctor; such 
 
 attitud-. :nes not :ne ::" thv sacred nro- 
 
 -." 
 
 "Get up. good doctor," echoed the clear,. 
 
 j o uth fill vc i c e □ f i g i Dant s : : i [ I i n g . who leaped 
 
 dq behind the covert of a hawth:rn bush, 
 
 and fell upon his father's neck. " Forgive me. 
 
 rgive the doctor, who did but try to 
 
 ;eal what ho feared :; . hastily to disclose.'' 
 
 ■' I :.:.'.'.■;- v ;--;. 7-i:h all ray hear:." so: d 
 
 the father, pa : o :. m:ment in o-::nish- 
 
 t. and _ tck the rich clustering 
 
 :a that hid the fine open brow : the 
 
 young gallant who stood before him in all the 
 
 pride and purple light of youth, flushed with 
 
 excitement, and with his eves sparkling with 
 
 love and admiration at rejoining lib father. 
 
 vol. i. p 
 
210 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " But, by all the saints, what brought thee 
 hither, my boy ?" 
 
 " The love of God and my king," replied 
 the stripling, drawing his rapier and flashing 
 it proudly in the setting sunlight. " I was 
 like a friar cooped up in my gloomy cloister, 
 bound to pace quadrangle, while traitors prison 
 kings, and cobblers aim at crowns — bloody 
 crowns they shall have, I trow." 
 
 " Dost thou not remember, Charles, what 
 immortal Will's Packard saith? — 
 
 No hand of blood or bone 
 
 Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, 
 
 Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. — 
 
 Well, but what didst thou do when thou 
 lefst gown for corselet, and flat cap for 
 helm ? " 
 
 " Why, I sped down as fast as horse would 
 carry, or rather some half-dozen; for some 
 three good hacks fell dead on the road, in 
 spite of sops of wine, as Henford used to tell 
 us to give at such times. Damian called 
 together the tenantry ; armed them all ; 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 211 
 
 turned off two fellows who would sing Psalms 
 and expound the Word as they followed the 
 plough ; left behind old Jennings, who is too 
 weak for harness ; and brought me the rest 
 into these fastnesses, where I thought we 
 might strike a hard blow for our pious but 
 unfortunate king." 
 
 u Indomitable Don Quixote !" said the 
 father, turning his head to hide a tear of 
 pride. "And how many buff-clad men hast 
 thou got at thy back to follow the old 
 banner?" 
 
 " But a poor dozen, father; and lame 
 Tomkins is one of them, for he would not stay 
 behind, though it's all over with him if his 
 horse is once shot ; — yes ! even to hard-riding 
 Jenkins and the keeper's boy, Long John, who 
 knocks over a sparrow at a hundred paces 
 with a musquetoon." 
 
 " Oh ! a truce, Charles, to your long list 
 of paladins, who, if they are not such knights 
 of the Eound Table as your partiality would 
 draw them, are at least trusty varlets and 
 
 P2 
 
212 ICE BOUND. 
 
 loyal to the back-bone. But where are they? 
 Have the Caernarvon men joined you ?" 
 
 " They have, sire, and are picqueted in 
 the valley above, ready to join us when 
 I blow this bugle." 
 
 And, as he spoke, the gay-hearted boy 
 seized a silver bugle that hung from his 
 white scarf, put it to his mouth, and 
 blew a blast loud and shrill. It awoke 
 a thousand echoes from hill and mountain ; 
 they came like ripples following the parent 
 wave, or like an army of fairies replying 
 with shrill clamour to their chieftain, 
 Oberon. Ere the sound had well died 
 away, it was responded to by a horn. 
 
 " Why, thou art a second Robin Hood," 
 said the father, laughing ; " is he not, 
 doctor, with his bugle, and his outlaws, 
 and his Long John, with caliver for bow, 
 and good sword for wood-knife ? " 
 
 Again the bugle was blown — a mourn- 
 ful note, such as the rangers call the 
 moil, that announces the death of the stag. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 213 
 
 " There's danger in the wind, father, 
 for that is the signal : we must defer 
 our gathering then till midnight, when 
 the peasants will be easier assembled, till 
 then we must keep covert. If my sergeant 
 report true, ! there'll be a pretty rising 
 of scythe and pike." 
 
 " In the hot charge I would not preach 
 to thee, Charles, but in the tactic I may 
 bid thee tell each peasant to strap round 
 him a bag of flour and whatever spare 
 lead he may scrape together. We may be 
 cooped up in Harlech for a month ere 
 our brave Rupert send a vessel to our 
 aid." 
 
 " Then, when he does, we'll break, father, 
 like a storm upon them. The red light- 
 ning from the cloud is a poor trope to 
 which to liken our charge. Whoop ! up with 
 King Charles, and down with the canting 
 Eoundhead ! " said the brave fellow, with 
 the head of a boy and the heart of a 
 man — ay, and a brave man — as he threw up 
 
214 ICE BOUND. 
 
 his plumed hat in the air, and caught it as 
 it fell almost into the water. As he stooped 
 low, his eye caught the pale glimmer of 
 the corpse. " Why, what's toward ? Here's 
 a murdered man ! there's been foul play 
 here. Help, father — drag him out." 
 
 " Quietly, gently," said Sir Charles, 
 repressing an almost involuntary smile at 
 the impatience and fire of the young 
 soldier. " Tis but a scurvy jackanapes 
 that I knocked on the head but ten 
 minutes since, as I would a mad dog 
 if it came gaping at me, with all his 
 white fangs showing." 
 
 " Compare him rather, Sir Charles," 
 said the doctor, "more scripturally, to 
 the enemy of mankind, who goeth about 
 like a ravening beast, or, as the Vulgate 
 more justly has it, ut ho fur ens — or, 
 rather " 
 
 " Let us drag out the drowned knave, 
 and search his pockets ; there may be some- 
 thing that may serve us. And if he have an 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 215 
 
 angel or two, it were pity they should rust." 
 So saying, the young gallant — already 
 not inapt in that useful commissariat 
 department of warfare, incorrectly termed 
 by the vulgar, pillage — hauled at the body, 
 and tilting up its legs, by the help of 
 his father, upon the rock, proceeded, with 
 all the coolness of a camp-follower, to 
 ransack the dead man's capacious pockets. 
 " Imprimis — here's a pamphlet, entituled 
 1 Crumbs of Comfort for the Chickens of the 
 Covenant, baked in the Oven of the Word/ 
 Cursed cant ! let the trout digest what 
 cavaliers can't ; " so saying, he whirled the 
 edifying volume over the fall. "And here's 
 four groats — the Puritan's month's pay, I 
 surmise. But here's — oh, here's the thing : — 
 
 " ' The Leaguer, Harlech, Six o'clock. 
 
 " ' The storming party advance from the 
 lines one hour after midnight, and advance 
 over the breach of the northern tower. 
 Watchword — ' Ahab.' 
 
 it c Mytton.' 
 
216 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " Ah, Mytton, thou son of Belial, the prey 
 shall be snatched from between thy teeth. 
 But I had forgot to tell thee, father, a 
 dragoon put into my hands a letter from 
 William Owen but an hour since ; I have 
 it here. Plague on me, I have it not ; 
 I must have dropped it at the hostel, or 
 somewhere — anywhere but where such a 
 despatch " 
 
 " What is here ?" said the doctor, who 
 had taken off the dead man's corselet, and 
 had been fumbling in a pocket made in 
 the breast of his thick buff jerkin, as he drew 
 out a sheet of paper which had been torn 
 impatiently open, and to which the silk 
 thread and wax that had bound it were still 
 depending. 
 
 sl God's mercy on my shallow brain, it is 
 the very letter. I dropped it, doubtless, 
 and this bloodhound who dogged me hither, 
 though he missed me by a wrong turn, 
 picked it up as rich spoil for his general." 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 217 
 
 " 'Tis well I paid his reckoning, and 
 rewarded him as Joab did Amasa, by a 
 blow under the fifth rib, to use the 
 villain's own profane language. Well then, 
 good General Charles," said the father, 
 with a voice of good-humoured banter, 
 " how long then is it thy pleasure that we 
 tarry here in ambush ?" 
 
 "Till midnight," replied his son; "for 
 there are Puritan stragglers abroad, and a 
 stray shot would bring overwhelming numbers 
 upon us, and frustrate every plan. Within 
 an hour all will be quiet ; at eight 
 they set the watch, as the country is up, 
 and their foragers are often cut off by 
 the peasantry if their party be not large. 
 I'll go and order the varlets to bring thee 
 some pasty and sack hither, for there 
 are both at our saddle-bows. Your old 
 cavalier cannot go long without food, 
 nor doth he care much whether it come 
 from friend or foe." 
 
 With three bounds the youth leaped the 
 
218 ICE BOUND. 
 
 bushes, and was out of sight. With a 
 contemptuous push the knight sent the 
 Puritan's body back into the deep pool 
 from which it had been drawn, and with 
 a deep bubbling plunge it sank. 
 
 "A brave, noble-hearted fellow is Charles I" 
 the father said, as he strode to the streamlet 
 bank, and stretched himself at his full 
 length upon the short thick grass, purpled 
 with wild thyme, on which the doctor 
 sat. 
 
 " He cometh forth like a bridegroom 
 out of his chamber/' said the doctor, his 
 mind running on his professional readings, 
 " and he rejoiceth as a giant to run his 
 course." 
 
 " My good doctor," said Sir Charles, 
 " you retain your divinity better than I ; 
 for these hard shifts and hard knocks rather 
 drive theology out of my head, but I'm 
 content to look up, as I do now, at the 
 stars, and pray our great God to save me 
 at the hour of need." 
 
219 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The sun had long since set ; already the 
 moon, through the thinner fissures of the 
 clouds, poured her silver beams upon rock 
 and mountain, covering them with the tran- 
 sitory snows of her silver light ; while on 
 tree-tops the moonbeams shivered, turning the 
 fall to molten brightness, lighting up even the 
 dark nook where the dead lay, and throw- 
 ing strange shadows everywhere upon this 
 scene of fairy-land. 
 
 Ere many minutes had passed away, the 
 youth appeared high up on the furthest 
 path, marshalling the way to two stalwart 
 troopers, who carried between them a basket 
 
220 ICE BOUND. 
 
 of provisions, indicative by its size of rich 
 contents. Staring about them at a scene so 
 unexpected, and making awkward salutations 
 to one who appeared of high rank, they placed 
 their load upon the ground. 
 
 " Wait above till the midnight signal is 
 given," said the youth, " and let pickets be 
 instantly set to guard against surprise." 
 
 "Your two heroes," said the father, "are 
 rather awkward specimens of the knight- 
 errant. Their bandoleers sit awkwardly, and 
 their plumes don't hang very jaunty." 
 
 " Oh, they're mere recruits pressed yester- 
 day, and don't know yet a morion from an 
 iron pot, but their hearts are in the right 
 place, and they'll serve. But what news, my 
 father, from the southern counties ? " 
 
 "Our royal master, when I left Oxford, 
 was a fugitive, seeking refuge, it was sup- 
 posed, in the charcoal-burners' huts in Hamp- 
 shire ; but the country was rising everywhere 
 against the Eump, and Cromwell had enough 
 on his hands, what with Roundhead members 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 221 
 
 and royal levies. All may yet go well, so the 
 king lies safe till he can again burst forth 
 like the sun." 
 
 " Yes, which goeth about from the one end 
 of the heavens unto the other, and nothing 
 hid from the heat thereof/' said the doctor, 
 unable to restrain a quotation, and rejoicing 
 at the free use of that unruly member, the 
 "tongue," after so long and compulsory a 
 silence ; " which word heat, as Stephanus 
 observes, may rather be interpreted as ' the 
 all-pervading life-spring/ " 
 
 " Oh, if thou must deliver a homily, good 
 doctor, pray ascend yonder pulpit- shaped rock, 
 out of the reach of our ears," said the youth, un- 
 mindful of the reproving glances of his father. 
 
 The doctor, abashed at this rebuke, shrunk 
 back into his nook, and turning himself to a 
 very quiet, mossy stump near him, continued 
 to mutter, as if still discussing the knotty 
 question, every now and then a word — such as 
 "cestus," "pythikos," "adonai" — thus dis- 
 closing the polyglottic bent of his thoughts. 
 
222 ICE BOUND. 
 
 11 Learn to bridle that fiery tongue of thine, 
 Charles," said his father, " as well as thou 
 makest that good war-horse Glennoek curvet 
 and caracole. But this is no time for rebuke," 
 he said, seizing his son's hand, and pressing it 
 in all the warmth of his heart ; then smiling in 
 that every-day hypocrisy by which men throw 
 a veil over the best emotions of their hearts, he 
 laughed as he added, " Now, rip open the fat 
 paunch of that wallet, for my stomach is just 
 in that state of revolt so well described by the 
 old Eoman in his parable. Dost thou remem- 
 ber the story — thou tall fellow of thy hands ?" 
 
 But the youth's mind was far away. 
 Drawing his rapier, and bending it almost 
 double over his knee, he bade his father mark 
 the generous temper of as true a Toledo as 
 ever crossed the Channel. 
 
 " Where are thy good wits gone to?" said 
 his father, as he seized the basket, and tore it 
 open, warmly aided by the good doctor, just 
 relieved of a satisfactory theory upon the 
 word cestas and its Hebrew root. He drew 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 223 
 
 forth, with a triumphant look, two dark-brown 
 pasties of a goodly size, and a plump bottle 
 of sack, that looked light and golden when 
 held up against the moonlight. Not many 
 minutes had elapsed ere the knight and the 
 doctor, (divested of his ragged canonicals,) 
 were deep in the bowels of the largest pasty. 
 Having summarily unsealed the flask by 
 knocking off its head, they all took deep 
 draughts and long pledges to "our rightful 
 king;" their loyalty much increased by the 
 hunger and thirst of some days past — a fast, 
 if not quite as sanctifying as that of a Papist, 
 at least as difficult to endure with patience. 
 
 Then, like tired wrestlers, they laid them- 
 selves down under a bush to rest, the knight 
 leaning his head on a rich tuft of heather, the 
 doctor on his canonicals, conveniently rolled 
 up into a soft, yielding pillow, as conducive to 
 sleep as one of his own sermons. Seated on a 
 felled tree by the side of his sleeping father sat 
 the young Cavalier, now looking at the sleepers, 
 now musing, with hand on his brow, upon 
 
224 ICE BOUND. 
 
 the revels and masks of the vanished court. 
 Over his half-sleeping fancy loomed grim faces 
 of foemen — looks that dying men had cast 
 upon him — the stern, proud triumphant eyes 
 that look upon fallen enemies — changing to 
 lovely faces and grouping maidens. Then 
 his hand relaxed ; he doubted the whole 
 scene, and thought it was but passing in a 
 dream, from which he fell into another and 
 deeper abyss ; thinking himself in his own 
 quiet chamber, with the fire-light playing 
 upon the arras, or lighting up the family por- 
 traits on the dark, glossy panels. He awoke ; 
 he looked at his watch with a catgut main- 
 spring, that vibrated like a church-clock, but 
 which, in those days, was an heirloom of consi- 
 derable value. It wanted but ten minutes to 
 midnight. His father and the doctor were 
 still asleep. The doctor snored audibly; 
 his father muttered in his sleep, and turned 
 restlessly : " Up, faint hearts — upon them 
 with the pike — remember bloody Naseby!" 
 The doctor, catching and mingling the sound 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 225 
 
 with his dream, replied, as if awaking, though 
 in the deepest depths of a weary sleep, " In 
 the opinion of Johannes Turris Crematus, the 
 word nasetuSj rendered in the Hebrew dijal, 
 should be " Here he sank into an in- 
 audible mutter, as if the real opinion of 
 Johannes Turris Crematus were far too 
 valuable for vulgar ears. 
 
 The solitude felt lonely to the madcap 
 youth. He thought of the dead lying below, of 
 the spirits, of the fays, of the elves. He must 
 awake the two : the hour of rendezvous had 
 all but come. But he paused, as every one 
 would, before he shook off that sweet oblivious 
 spell that weighed so gently upon their senses — 
 that fairest portion of a sad life — that sleep that 
 covered them, as Sancho says, "like a cloak." 
 He waited till the watch-hand was approaching 
 the hour, had reached, had passed. How rest- 
 less, how swift, and how untiring is time, though 
 the fool complains of his lingering! He 
 shook them at the same moment by the arm. 
 It was amusing to observe the different bias 
 
 VOL. i. o. 
 
226 ICE BOUND. 
 
 of their returning senses. " Help ! help ! 
 To arms !" cried the knight, and leapt upon 
 his feet, with a poniard, hitherto concealed, 
 shining in his grasp, his eyes staring ; but at 
 once restored to his senses, sheathing his 
 weapon like one ashamed of an enthusiastic 
 transport, he embraced the son whom he 
 loved so dearly. The doctor, slowly turning 
 himself, exclaimed with a dreary and pro- 
 tracted yawn, as if exhausted by his somni- 
 ferous disputations, " The word cestas, thus 
 
 mistakingly rendered " But seeing the 
 
 wondering looks of the two spectators who 
 bent over him, he yawned again — deeper, 
 longer, and wider than ever — rubbed his eyes, 
 apologised for the length of his sleep, and 
 shaking himself with the reluctant air with 
 which a poor man resigns the cup of oblivion 
 slowly drawn from him, and of which no 
 draught but that of death can be too deep, 
 looked at his pleasant lair, and exclaimed, 
 
 " Verily, good Sir Charles, canst thou help 
 me to the time ? for it seemeth to draw near 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 227 
 
 to that hour which that worthy Arabian gen- 
 tleman alludes to when he says, 4 In the night 
 when deep sleep falleth upon men/ " 
 
 44 The time is past, I should think, by the 
 deep bass you have so long kept up to the light 
 treble of my breathing," said the young soldier, 
 then unable to restrain a gibe at the inconsis- 
 tencies of an amiable character, so strangely at 
 variance with the scene and the thoughts which 
 crowded in his own mind. 44 And if 1 can judge 
 aright by half articulate whisperings, even in 
 your dreams you have been digging for 
 Hebrew roots, though not, I trust, in that 
 barren soil where the adage says they gene- 
 rally grow ; why, you were engaged in a hot 
 dispute about that knotty word cestas, on 
 which, some four hours ago, you were about to 
 deliver us an interesting discourse, of which 
 we (aside, fortunately), hem! I am sorry to 
 say, heard but the text." 
 
 44 You do too much honour, young gentle- 
 man, to my poor learning, but a disqui- 
 sition on the subject I certainly have writ- 
 
 Q2 
 
228 ICE BOUND. 
 
 ten, and will at some convenient time read 
 you." 
 
 But already the versatile youth grew weary 
 of the good man's harangue, and exclaiming, 
 " "lis midnight, father," blew his horn 
 shrilly. " Trali, trail, trala." 
 
 A pause of a moment or two, as if men 
 were arousing, and it was answered nearer 
 and louder than before. In another moment, 
 a trampling and crashing was heard as some 
 two dozen men made their way through the 
 narrow paths, and ranged themselves in 
 irregular order upon the bank. With a cheer 
 they greeted their young leader, who, grace- 
 fully drawing his sword, presented it on his 
 knee to his father, as a token of resigned com- 
 mand. His father returned it him. 
 
 " I will not command the brave fellows 
 your own loyalty and courage have banded. 
 I will be at thy right hand, will temper thy 
 headstrong valour in the charge, and urge 
 thee to fresh exertions when thy young heart 
 is damped with defeat." 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 229 
 
 A louder cheer greeted words so worthy of 
 so noble a father and so brave a son. 
 
 Every moment now peasants poured in, 
 armed with scythe, and pike, and fork ; rude 
 goads, rough arquebuses, halberds as old as 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 " What tidings bring the scouts ?" said the 
 young Cavalier to the oldest man of his 
 troop ; " but yonder is one ; let him speak for 
 himself." 
 
 As he spoke, a dwarfish man, with long, 
 ragged black hair, and keen eyes, pushed 
 himself forward, with all the self-esteem with 
 which the deformed seem invested by kind 
 nature. 
 
 " I have not been near Harlech to-day, 
 good sir; but yesternight the garrison was 
 much straitened, so one of their deserters 
 told me, they had barely oatmeal enough in 
 half-rations to last two days more ; and even 
 now their food is rats, and hides, and messes 
 of the weeds pulled from the ramparts. As 
 I was playing the harp an hour ago at an inn 
 
230 ICE BOUND. 
 
 by the roadside, I saw two of Mytton's re- 
 giment pass. They had corselets on, and had 
 been foraging, but they took no heed of me." 
 
 " How stands the country disposed towards 
 the right cause ?" said the elder knight. 
 
 " Well, they stay but for the rising, and 
 the word, i King Charles and the Cavaliers 
 for ever ! ' and there'll be many a stout 
 fellow's foot in stirrup, and many a matchlock 
 taken down from chimney-rest." 
 
 " The array, in the words of old Ben, is 
 ( somewhat of the fewest' to raise a siege," 
 said the knight, whispering to his son ; " but 
 we know what bold hearts have done, and 
 we know what they may do again." 
 
 " But there is no time for delay, if we 
 march. Let's to horse!" cried the young man. 
 
 " Stay, stay, master general," said his 
 father. " Sergeant, read the roll-call." 
 
 The officer read, and but one man was 
 found missing — " Thomas Lewis, better known 
 as Hardriding Tom." 
 
 " Who knows anything of him?" 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 231 
 
 No one answered. 
 
 " He can't have turned traitor. A soldier 
 says he has taken lately to say his prayers, 
 and when he cursed him for it, and said there 
 was enough time, he hoped, for such things 
 as that, and asked him if he was going to 
 turn Puritan and join Mytton and the Rump. 
 Tom told him to hold his foul tongue, or he'd 
 slip his knife between his ribs. Perhaps he's 
 proved traitor, and all is lost. But no 
 gloomy forebodings. The fellow drinks beer 
 as if he was at a continual term, and is 
 thirsty as a sand-bed. I'll wager forty 
 crowns he's dead drunk now, in a handful of 
 straw, in our last hostel. I dare swear he's 
 drunk, but no traitor. He'll join us, will Tom, 
 when he hears the trumpet." 
 
 Then, ascending the highest ground over- 
 looking the stream, whose roar rendered his 
 voice inaudible beyond the circle of the little 
 band, all, both noble and commoner, knelt be- 
 fore the holy man, as, with glowing eye and 
 irrestrainable emotion, he exclaimed, 
 
232 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " Let God arise — let his enemies be scat- 
 tered — let those that are mighty flee before 
 him." 
 
 And then selecting from the stores of his 
 memory verses suitable to the occasion, he 
 continued, after a moment's pause, 
 
 " Plead thou my cause, Lord, with them 
 that strive against me, and fight thou against 
 those that fight against me. Lay hand upon 
 the shield and buckler, and stand up to help 
 us. Bring forth the spear, and stop the way 
 against them that persecute me." 
 
 And all the people assembled cried 
 " Amen." 
 
 But never on earth was that half-finished 
 prayer to be concluded. Already the God 
 to whom they prayed had frustrated those 
 wishes, which his mercy thought unmeet for 
 accomplishment. 
 
 "Let them be confounded and put to 
 
 shame that seek Sir Charles — hush ! 
 
 hush! What are those sparks, like the 
 fire-flies of Hispaniola, amongst the trees 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 233 
 
 that crown yonder craggy bank? They 
 seem to move, and flit, and come nearer," 
 he exclaimed; u or are they rather what 
 the learned call falling stars?" suddenly 
 breaking off, and pointing, with outstretched 
 fingers, to the objects of his wonder and 
 fear, for, with heads bended, none but 
 himself could see the scene around. 
 
 " The Philistines are upon us !" cried 
 Sir Charles, with a shout, as his men 
 sprang to their feet and grasped their 
 arms. 
 
 It was not a moment too soon, for the next 
 instant pistol-shots and the distant clang 
 of steel were heard, followed by a close 
 volley, that poured upon them from their 
 hitherto ambushed enemies, who now showed 
 themselves in thick array on the opposite 
 bank, headed by an officer, who appeared, 
 from his plume, rich baldric, and proud 
 bearing, to be of rank. 
 
 One trooper fell ; a bullet had struck 
 him ; toppling from the plateau of rock, 
 
234 ICE BOUND. 
 
 he fell into the torrent beneath, its roar 
 concealing the crash made by his descent. 
 One other man was hurt in the arm, 
 but could still handle his piece, and in 
 an instant the scarf of the young knight 
 had bound up the wound. 
 
 At a glance, the experienced eye of the 
 old soldier had caught the dangers and 
 the advantages of his position. 
 
 " Doctor," he cried, " ensconce yourself 
 behind that jutting point, and keep close. 
 Let each man fall behind the nearest bush 
 or slab of stone, and reserve his fire, for 
 there is hotter work ere we part." 
 
 In a moment every man had disappeared, 
 as if they had sunk into the earth, or 
 like Eoderick Dhu's clansmen, but not 
 before the fiery young Hotspur, whose 
 ardour seemed irrestrainable as that of a 
 war-horse who scents the battle, had 
 snatched a musket from the hands of a 
 trooper, and, taking deliberate and cool 
 aim, fired at the leader of the Parliamentary 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 235 
 
 party, who, shouting, " Who is on the 
 Lord's side — who?" was waving his sword, 
 as if urging his men to some deed of 
 daring from which they shrank. 
 
 "A murrain on the fool I" he said. "I 
 saw the bullet leap from his head-piece 
 as a hail-drop would skip off a cabbage- 
 leaf. " 
 
 " Let them be as the dust before the 
 wind, and the angel of the Lord scattering 
 them !" cried the doctor, peering from his 
 hiding-place, but retreating instantly, as a 
 stray bullet nearly deprived the English 
 Church of one of her warmest supporters. 
 
236 
 
 CHAPTER IT 
 
 The fire continued straggling and inter- 
 mittent, not one Cavalier, however, being 
 touched behind his stone rampart, while two 
 Puritans fell apparently wounded, perhaps 
 dead, and were instantly borne off by their 
 friends to the rear. Now, however, imitating 
 the tactics of their enemies, in perfect silence 
 they advanced, taking advantage of every 
 bush, stone, or inequality of the ground, to 
 pour a volley upon their enemies or to save 
 themselves. 
 
 The stripling's impatience could be kept in 
 no longer. Kising on one knee, in spite of 
 all the entreaties of his father, who lay beside 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 237 
 
 him, he placed his musket on a low ridge of 
 rock, and fired at a soldier who had attained 
 a point higher than that on which they were, 
 and was about to discharge his piece with 
 fearful effect. Down he went, like a prey the 
 eagle has dropped from her eyrie, crashing as 
 he descended, till he fell a shapeless mass on 
 the rocks below. A cheer from his followers 
 greeted the daring champion who so fearlessly 
 exposed his person for their safety. He was 
 still watching the result of his shot, when a 
 well-aimed Puritan bullet cut off his white 
 plume, and sent it floating below. With a frown 
 his father pulled him down into the covert. 
 
 " Kash youth/' he said, " this is not 
 courage ; it is hair-brained, unreflecting mad- 
 ness." Then turning to the doctor, who, 
 ensconced safe behind a huge mass of project- 
 ing rock, was urging on the combatants, 
 praising the best shots, condemning the bad, 
 instructing each as to the peculiar deficiency 
 of his aim, and shouting, " They rejoiced and 
 gathered themselves together ; yea, the very 
 
238 ICE BOUND. 
 
 abject came together against me unawares" — 
 " Silence, good doctor ; your shouts draw on 
 us a warmer fire, and make our bullets the 
 less effective." 
 
 The rebuked doctor instantly ceased his 
 theological war-cry, and watched the fight si- 
 lently, with as rueful a face as any old burgher 
 who had strolled into Alsatia would a bully's 
 brawl, advancing up a cul-de-sac towards him. 
 
 " I swear by St. Carlo de Borromeo, who 
 is my patron," whispered Sir Charles to his 
 son, who lay eyeing the enemy as the golden 
 eagle of Snowdon might the falcon who has 
 approached too near his eyrie, " I know no- 
 thing of war's stratagems if the villains are 
 not going to throw some planks across the 
 torrent and charge us. Were our party 
 strong enough to hold this tete-de-pont, I 
 would send a party of five round to wade 
 the stream higher up, as we did once in 
 Flanders, the sound of the water hiding the 
 splashing of our boots; but, with this poor 
 handful, we must make what play we can here. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 239 
 
 Give the word round, Charles, that when 
 they are past that first white rock beyond the 
 pulpit we fire a volley, and that instantly 
 ten of the best and bravest pikemen, with 
 you at their head" — the young man's eyes 
 sparkled with fire — " bear down upon them. 
 I'll be at your side, and the rest must keep 
 their pieces loaded, ready to fire when an ad- 
 vantage presents itself, or to press on at our 
 back when need is the sorest. Let our cry 
 be ' God and our king.' w 
 
 He scarcely had given the directions to the 
 men, ere two Puritan halberdiers advanced, 
 preceded by five skirmishers, w T ho kept 
 up a warm fire at every head that showed 
 itself an inch above the defences that nature 
 w T as so lavish of in that wild spot. With the 
 ready speed of habit, impelled too by a sense 
 of danger and a desire of distinction, they threw 
 three broad, thick planks from a flat rock in 
 the bank over some deep, wide pools, to 
 another rock immediately contiguous to the 
 pulpit, and beyond which a man might wade 
 
240 ICE BOUND. 
 
 and force his way to the opposite bank. In 
 an instant three men, with pikes ready, 
 advanced, and leaped upon it; a bullet 
 pierced the first ; the second, turning to save 
 his comrade, was wounded as he crouched 
 behind the rock. There was a moment's 
 pause. With word and blow, from the bank, 
 exposed himself to the bullets that whistled 
 round him, their leader urged them on. As if 
 stung by some biting taunt, four more, two 
 and two, rush past; they cower — they reach — 
 they pass the white rock. With a shout that 
 rung high above the roar of the fall, the 
 Cavaliers leaped up from rock and bush, and 
 bore down upon the enemy, to meet them 
 midway. At their head ran the young 
 knight, closely followed by his father, waving 
 his white plumed hat in one hand and his 
 drawn sword in the other. With a dreadful 
 shock they met. With push of pike, and 
 blow of sword, and butt of pistol, curse and 
 shout, and groan and yell, and splash, as the 
 wounded fell to drown, or to be borne away by 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 241 
 
 the fall, bleeding, and waving their bloody 
 or begrimed hands for assistance, till they 
 came to the edge of the fall, eddied round 
 for a moment, and were then swept over 
 with a roar, as if the water exulted proudly 
 in its triumph over weak man. 
 
 To it they fought, foot to foot, hand to 
 hand, with noisy clang on helm and corselet, till 
 the pools ran dark with gore ; fanaticism and 
 party urged them faster on, and infused a 
 deeper hatred in their hearts. No quarter 
 was asked or given. To fall was to die. 
 But though the Cavaliers were undisciplined, 
 they were a band of brothers, men brought up 
 on the same estate, and headed by those whom 
 they had learnt from youth to respect, to 
 love, and to obey. They were enraged at 
 being thus caught like foxes in a net ; 
 their hearts glowed with warm affection for 
 a king whose very misfortunes rendered him 
 only the dearer to his followers. They pressed 
 the enemy ; they gained the planks ; hotter 
 grew the fire ; as, surrounded by the enemy, 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 ICE BOUND. 
 
 led away by uncontrollable and dangerous 
 temerity, fought Charles ; his father watched 
 him like a guardian angel in the fray, 
 warding off blows, throwing himself be- 
 fore him like a shield, directing his attention 
 to danger, now praising him when he struck 
 a good blow, and now checking his overhasty 
 rashness. Suddenly, from a thicket close to 
 the water's edge, leaped out two Puritan pike- 
 men upon the temporary bridge, and, urging 
 forward their companions, who were retreating 
 before the impetuous violence of the young 
 gallant, advanced upon him with their pikes 
 full before their breasts. In a dark rank, two 
 abreast and ten deep, the enemy drove upon 
 him. Losing his footing of the plank, Sir 
 Charles leaped upon the nearest rock and 
 slowly retreated, glaring upon his enemies, 
 like a boar at bay when he churns the foam 
 and shows his white tusks ere he rushes at 
 the hound. 
 
 With eager solicitude, forgetful of his ex- 
 posed person, and of the bullets that flattened 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 243 
 
 themselves upon the rocks by his side, the father 
 watched his son slowly retiring and making 
 for the nearest covert to rally his men, whose 
 bandoleers were now nearly empty. With 
 a savage bound a pikeman drove his pike at 
 the bare breast of the young knight; he 
 parried it, and returned the blow with a fierce 
 thrust, which, glancing on the breastplate of 
 his antagonist, a dismounted cuirassier of 
 Haslerig's regiment, shivered his blade to the 
 very hilt. With the broken fragment the 
 heroic youth stabbed his antagonist in the 
 neck, just above the corselet, and he fell, still 
 alive, but grievously wounded, into the stream. 
 His companion, before the youth could re- 
 cover himself, rushed forward to avenge his 
 comrade, and thrust his pike deep into the lad's 
 breast ; and, at the same moment, a pistol- 
 bullet of the Puritan officer, who had watched 
 the fray with interest, drove into his brain. 
 Charles fell dead, without a groan, into the 
 arms of two of his followers. 
 
 To bear him to a bank, and place the body 
 
 r2 
 
244 ICE BOUND. 
 
 with reverent care beneath the bush, where 
 but a short hour since he was watching with 
 a brain teeming with ambitious hopes, was 
 the work of a moment. Then, with a deep 
 howl of execration, every man leaped from 
 bush and from behind rock, forgetful of life, 
 and bore down upon the triumphing foe, who 
 made the air ring with cries of " Down with 
 the sons of Belial!" " Down with the armies 
 of the Philistines !" 
 
 Every eye was looking for the slayer of 
 their gallant young leader, every hand 
 clutched his weapon firmer, every heart 
 throbbed louder, and longed to be his avenger. 
 But God had already sent one. Even the 
 doctor, with streaming eyes, seized a pike, 
 and exclaiming, " He that slayeth by the 
 sword shall perish by the sword," brought up 
 the rear in a gallant manner. 
 
 Who can picture the father? His blood 
 froze at its source, his eyes were glazed, as if 
 he, too, had felt the death-blow his son had 
 received. For a moment he stood thus, and 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 245 
 
 then, like a she-bear robbed of her cub, he 
 leaped upon the Puritan ; with one broad back- 
 handed slash he cleft his jaws open till the very 
 head gaped in two, and the wretch fell a horrid 
 ape-like picture of death upon the body of his 
 fallen corporal, who, shot through the brain, 
 had fallen on his knees and blocked up the 
 path to which he had led his fellows. 
 
 With a shout the brave men then rushed upon 
 the discomfited enemy, at the very moment a 
 band of loyal peasants, armed with scythes and 
 rude pikes, tore down from the hills above, 
 and hallooing cheerily, swelled their ranks. 
 At the sight of the new allies, advancing 
 like yelling demons, and holding torches in 
 their hands — for the moon had now sunk — 
 which flashed and flamed, and threw a red 
 light upon the woods, the Puritans turned 
 and fled. Halting as they gained the shelter 
 of the woods, they then formed anew under the 
 direction of their officers, and poured a close 
 but ill-aimed volley at their new assailants, 
 who now, clearing the planks of the dead, 
 
246 ICE BOUND. 
 
 were prepared to defile in force and fight for 
 the possession of their last stronghold. There 
 was a whispering together for a moment 
 amongst the Puritans — of those at least of 
 them who were not busied in bending over 
 the wounded, or replacing their shattered 
 weapons with those of the dead. Pre- 
 sently the officer whom we have before men- 
 tioned fastened a white scarf to a broken 
 pike-shaft, and advanced towards the bridge, 
 waving it in the air as a flag of truce. 
 
 " I demand a parley, with your leave," he 
 cried, " thou of the white plume." 
 
 There were low growls of rage, as Sir 
 Charles prepared to advance to meet him 
 half-way. " Let's have blood for blood," 
 cried one mutinous fellow, whose blood 
 was now well up. With portentous face of 
 chiding solemnity the doctor pushed the 
 men back, placing finger on his lips, as 
 already the two leaders had met. 
 
 " Knowest thou," said the Puritan, with- 
 out one indication of courtesy, although a 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 247 
 
 slight tone of pity seemed to pervade his words 
 — " knowest thou, malignant, that thy men 
 
 shed their blood without avail ? Harlech, 
 that thou wouldst have relieved, has fallen 
 under the sword of that holy vessel, Obadiah 
 Fight-the-good-fight-of-Faith, better known, 
 it may be, to such as thee by his once 
 profane name of John Mytton." 
 
 " Harlech fallen ?" said Sir Charles, even 
 in the depths of his grief with difficulty 
 repressing his astonishment at the unexpected 
 news. 
 
 " Yea ; finding from one of thy malignants 
 who joined our ranks that relief was coming, 
 we prepared to storm the hold at eight 
 of the clock, but they surrendered at our 
 first summons. Eesistance, thenceforth, is 
 hopeless." 
 
 " Thou trustest too much on this poor 
 victory," said Sir Charles ; " half Wales 
 will presently rise at our summons." 
 
 "To fight for a prisoner in a distant 
 island ?" 
 
248 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " Prisoner ?" 
 
 " Yes, Charles Stuart, whom thou callest 
 king, is now in durance in the Isle of Wight; 
 I received but yesterday a despatch from my 
 lord commissioner. ,, 
 
 " Generation of vipers !" said the doctor, 
 who had crept up to the back of the 
 general during the conference. 
 
 " Everywhere the Parliament is pro- 
 claimed, and Cromwell lays waste the 
 rebellious provinces with fire and sword." 
 
 " Let his name be blotted out of the 
 book of life,^ chimed in the doctor, "and 
 his inheritance let another take." 
 
 " Eather, schismatic sir," said the Puritan 
 unbending into a grim ill-favoured smile, 
 " seemeth he likelv to take to himself the 
 possessions of others. We give thee twelve 
 hours to disperse and gain the sea-side or thy 
 own homes; after that, look to yourselves, 
 for there will be a lion in the way." 
 
 "The roaring lion," said the doctor, 
 " yea, the devourer of souls." 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 249 
 
 " We submit to your conditions," said 
 Sir Charles, after a moment's pause of 
 deep mournful thought, betrayed by the 
 muscles that writhed like things of life 
 upon his forehead, " since better may not 
 be granted; and the less feel I for my 
 followers, since I myself, to whom life 
 is no longer dear, shall lose more than 
 them all. But on one condition alone I 
 yield : that our deserter be surrendered 
 according to all rules of warfare on such 
 hard-plighted treaties as these." 
 
 The officer whispered to those nearest 
 to him, and within a minute they re- 
 appeared, dragging between them Hard- 
 riding-Tom, his hands bound behind him 
 with his own belt, his face win with 
 fear. 
 
 " Do unto him as seemeth good to thee. 
 Farewell I" Then retreating to the shore, 
 and speaking in a low voice to his 
 followers, the Puritans disappeared as 
 suddenly as they had come, a measured 
 
250 ICE BOUND. 
 
 tramp alone announcing their departure. 
 Two or three remained behind, still look- 
 ing at, perhaps plundering, the dying. 
 The wounded had been long since carried 
 to places of safety : these stragglers, too, 
 soon disappeared. 
 
 " Does this villain deserve death ? " 
 cried Sir Charles, after a long and terrible 
 silence, full of bitter thoughts of the past, 
 and sorrowful anticipations of the future. 
 " He does," cried a dozen voices, 
 advancing their pikes as if they would 
 crush him like a reptile. 
 
 " Thou hearest the judgment of the 
 companions thou hast betrayed," said Sir 
 Charles, with a voice of slow, suppressed 
 rage ; " what hast thou to say why thou 
 shouldst not suffer ? for the blood of him 
 whom thou hast slain still crieth from the 
 wet earth." 
 
 " God's curses on ye all ! " said the 
 wretch, foaming with rage and pale with 
 fear ; " thy son struck me with his stir- 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING 251 
 
 rup-girth, and swore at me for a country 
 rogue, because, as I cleaned my horse, I 
 forsooth sang a psalm." 
 
 " And was it for such a trifle as this 
 that thou madest me childless among men ? 
 Take the white scarf, Corporal Gwyn, from 
 the dead, reeve it over yon gnarled oak, and 
 loop it round his neck." 
 
 The doctor fell on his knees, and ex- 
 claimed with an impressive voice, faltering 
 with emotion, "God have mercy on thy soul !" 
 The wretch the next minute hung a quivering, 
 vibrating corse, a thing for the crow and the 
 mountain falcon to feed their young with. 
 
 It was already daybreak, and the almost 
 heartbroken father bent over the new-made 
 unclosed grave. They scarcely could tear him 
 from the corse, as, clasping it in his arms, he 
 printed his hot kisses on the pale brow of 
 the dead. Hastily they lowered it into the 
 grave ; and not an eye was dry when the 
 doctor, pulling from a pocket of his gown a 
 
252 ICE BOUND. 
 
 much-thumbed prayer-book, read the beauti- 
 ful and solemn prayers of the English Church, 
 which seem almost to forget the sorrows 
 of the living in the hopes of their joyful 
 rising. With more than usual solemnity 
 fell these words upon the ear as the deep 
 voice of the doctor uttered them : 
 
 "Man that is born of a woman hath 
 but a short time to live, and is full of 
 misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, 
 like a flower; he fleeth as it were a sha- 
 dow, and never continueth in one stay. In 
 the midst of life we are in death/' 
 
 And never was amen uttered more fer- 
 vidly than when the priest gave God thanks, 
 and proceeded with the words so expressive 
 of pious resignation : 
 
 " Almighty God, with whom do live the 
 spirits of them that depart hence in the 
 Lord, and with whom the -souls of the faith- 
 ful, after they are delivered from the burden, 
 of the flesh, are in joy and felicity ; we give 
 thee hearty thanks, for that it hath pleased 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING. 253 
 
 thee to deliver this our brother out of the 
 miseries of this sinful world, beseeching thee 
 that it may please thee, of thy gracious 
 goodness, shortly to accomplish the number 
 of thine elect, and to hasten thy kingdom." 
 Amen. 
 
 There was no dismal sound of mould on 
 coffin-lid; no hollow knell such as has often 
 gone well-nigh to crack the heart strings. 
 TYith a scarf bound over his face, his hands 
 crossed upon his heart, his wound covered, 
 his broad-leafed hat pulled over his fixed 
 and open eyes, and his sword drawn, by his 
 right hand, they buried the lad as a warrior 
 should be buried, on a field not the less 
 noble because but a dozen, and not a hundred, 
 good men had yielded there their souls to 
 God. 
 
2o4 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY 
 
 PLAIN. 
 
 A Tale of the Sixteenth Century. 
 
 chapter I. 
 
 villain ! viper ! damned without redemption : 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Snake in my heart blood warmed, that stings my heart : 
 A Judas and one thrice worse than Judas. 
 * * Terrible hell make war 
 
 Upon thy spotted soul for this offence. 
 
 Richard II. 
 
 O ! it is monstrous ! monstrous ! 
 Methought the billows spoke and told me of it. 
 The winds did sing it to me ; and the thunder, 
 That deep and dreadful organ pipe, pronounced 
 The name of Prosper ; it did bass my trespass. 
 
 The Tempest. 
 
 It was the autumn of 1533, not twenty 
 years since the sturdy apostle of the Refor- 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 255 
 
 mation had burnt the Pope's bull at the 
 very gates of Wittenberg. The Gospel flame 
 had spread through Germany like fire in the 
 long dry grass of the Indian savannahs. 
 Already it had burnt through to Switzer- 
 land, where Zuinglius had sealed his faith 
 with a martyr's blood, and had spread on to 
 the dark forests of the north, from whence it 
 was so soon to sweep back, with all the 
 impetuous fury of the ice winds, upon the 
 hireling armies of the seven-hilled city. Al- 
 ready even kings had pushed forward to com- 
 bat with pen or sword for the new heresy or 
 the revival of truth, as it was alternately ap- 
 plauded with one name or branded with the 
 other. 
 
 In our own land, state policy and the 
 violence of a proud and sensual monarch, 
 had opened the way for the Reforma- 
 tion, like some poor pursuivant that clears 
 the way for a gorgeous cavalcade of the 
 noble and the great. Never king sat upon 
 a firmer throne. His father, a crafty mon- 
 
256 ICE BOUND. 
 
 arch, with the head of a shuffling diploma- 
 tist, and the toad heart of a miser, had 
 been the trusty pioneer to smooth the path 
 for his accession. Like his more debased 
 prototype of France, the whole labour of 
 his life had been to repress the bloated 
 power of the nobles, to encourage the 
 burgher class, and to balance them both 
 by the dread of popular revolt. The good 
 work done in France by Louis was pushed 
 on in Italy by a Borgia, and perfected in 
 England by the Eighth Henry : worthy 
 trio — the vulture, the fox, and the viper — 
 that still paved the way for the liberty of 
 future ages. 
 
 But the good days had dawned in storm in 
 England; not without a struggle gave up 
 priest his jeweled cup, and abbot his chased 
 chalice ; slowly, and with agonised contor- 
 tions, they had surrendered the keys of their 
 store-chambers to the harpies of Henry. 
 The ignorant peasants, misled by those who 
 moulded their souls, had risen in arms, and 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 257 
 
 their banners had been emblazoned with the 
 cross and the five wounds of Christ, to testify 
 that, to defend the old faith of their fathers, 
 they had thus traitorously banded together. 
 
 In this very year (1533) ten abbeys and six- 
 teen nunneries had been suppressed, including 
 those great conventual buildings, the Cis- 
 tercian convents of St. Mary of Bellesden, 
 in Bedfordshire, and the abbey of Furness, 
 in Lancashire. This very year, ten thou- 
 sand monks had been driven out as vagabonds, 
 with but two angels and a gown each, to 
 beg their bread ; while 32,000/. of their 
 rents were seized, and 100,000/. worth of 
 their rich plate and jewels. 
 
 "What wonder, then, at the number of 
 the disaffected ; for, with the great bark of 
 Popery, laden with sins as a galleon with 
 gold, in the deep vortex that she made as she 
 sank, had gone down a myriad of fortunes. 
 W^ith every convent that fell, a swarm of the 
 beggars, both within and without the walls that 
 it had created, had been cast upon the world 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
258 ICE BOUND. 
 
 to live by their scanty wits, and to feast, like 
 the " palmer worm and the locust," upon the 
 more numerous but less sympathising classes 
 — on the noble who was too rich, and the 
 peasant who was too poor, to share their griefs 
 or to dole them alms. 
 
 It was an autumn evening, wanting but 
 an hour to vespers, and the monks of Ystrad 
 Flur* — or the Monastery of the Flowery 
 Plain, as the English called it — were assem- 
 bled in their chapter-room. Anxiety sat on 
 every face, as the whisper went round from 
 monk to monk, like a watchword for the 
 night, for prime was the usual hour for such 
 meetings, and the subject must be one of 
 unusual interest in those eventful times that 
 could lead so strict an abbot to convene to- 
 gether the white-robed order at an hour so 
 unusual in their ritual.f 
 
 Around the room, which was at once the 
 chapter-room and the library of the monastery, 
 on rows of stone benches ranged in tiers, with 
 
 * Cardiganshire. f Cistercian. 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 259 
 
 bended heads, sat the monks, with the novices, 
 the elder brothers, facing each other, on 
 either side. At one end, nearest the high 
 throne and lectern of the abbot, sat the prior 
 and the refectioner; and above their heads 
 hung a large ivory crucifix, surrounded by a 
 gilded halo. The architecture of the room, 
 as of most of the monastery, exhibited in its 
 utmost perfection the bold massiveness and 
 almost rude simplicity of the reign of Edward 
 of Caernarvon, during whose inroads into the 
 wild county of Cardigan it had been built. 
 The great shelves that lined the walls 
 above the benches on which the monks were 
 seated groaned with the weight of gilded 
 MSS. and ponderous folios, bound round with 
 brass and silver, studded with crosses, and 
 clasped with metal. Within these coarse 
 caskets great thoughts lay entombed — sarco- 
 phagi they were in which those long dead 
 had left inurned the rich balms gathered 
 from long centuries of study. 
 
 Over the richly-bossed doors which led into 
 
 S2 
 
260 ICE BOUND. 
 
 the cloisters hung the emblazoned flags of the 
 Welsh princes, whose records lay still within 
 the archives of the convent — banners which 
 had once fluttered high over the press of 
 battle, but which now hung withered as the 
 autumn leaves without, for their black, dusty 
 folds were rotting in the house of peace. 
 No fierce war-cry greeted them now, nothing 
 sterner than the distant murmur of mass or 
 psalm breathed through long cloisters from 
 the distant choir. 
 
 The sub-prior, an ignorant but simple 
 monk, repeated with careless rapidity, in that 
 monotonous drone, worse than the nasal 
 twang of the Puritans, which acquired for 
 the monks the name of " mumble matins," 
 the usual prayers for deceased benefactors, 
 long since forgotten but for this, by which 
 the daily chapters were generally opened; 
 while the abbot remained, like one deeply 
 immersed in meditation, his head between 
 hands, his eyes fixed immovably on a broad 
 letter that lay on the lectern before him, 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 261 
 
 and his lips moving as if in prayer or mute 
 soliloquy. 
 
 The abbot was a man of some sixty sum- 
 mers ; but time had dealt kindly with him, 
 and it was neither thought nor care, but 
 rather mystic reveries and pious contempla- 
 tion, that had ploughed those deep furrows 
 on his benevolent, gentle, and passionless 
 features. He looked like one who had all 
 his life been gazing calmly forth at the 
 storm from a convent casement, soothed by 
 the sounds of peace within, and careless of 
 the roar without. Fortune had dealt gently 
 with him, and he loved mankind rather 
 from his ignorance of their follies and crimes 
 than from any more than theoretical know- 
 ledge of their virtues. The convent was his 
 only world. His only cares were its petty 
 duties and its dull round of monotonous cere- 
 monies. His voice was sweet and gentle, 
 there was a soft benevolence in his calm, 
 blue, serene eye, and something even apos- 
 tolic in the soft white locks of the tonsure 
 
262 ICE BOUND. 
 
 that crept round his temples. The cynical 
 observer might perhaps have observed a want 
 of energy in his motions and in his bearing, 
 midit have augured a love of ease in the 
 very attitude in which he seated himself 
 in his chair of state, or have discerned, 
 in the chain of gold and the richly-furred 
 robe that peeped through an opening of 
 his plain white robe, something that showed 
 that even from that holy mind the world was 
 not fully alienated. He was one, however, who 
 would have died heroically at the stake to 
 vindicate some abstruse mystery or doubtful 
 tradition of his Church, but who shrank 
 from the political storm now glooming in 
 the horizon. 
 
 Leaving his bench ere the murmur of 
 the prayer had well died away, and in 
 the midst of the hum of the monks pre- 
 paring themselves to listen, the prior, an 
 Italian by birth, whispered earnestly for a 
 moment to the abbot ere he rose to speak, 
 and hastily resuming his place, bent over 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 2G3 
 
 some papers that lay scattered before him 
 with an impatient air, like one with diffi- 
 culty bending a proud spirit to obey the 
 commands of a superior he despised ; then, 
 pushing them aside with a quick hand, 
 he scanned with an eager and restless eye 
 the collected brotherhood, and particularly 
 the abbot, upon whose head fell a stream 
 of light from a stained-glass window above 
 the crucifix, crimsoning his white robe 
 with the rich dye of the Tyrian purple, 
 and playing round his temples like the 
 visible glory that gilds the countenance 
 of a dying saint. 
 
 A saturnine expression had Fra Cozza, 
 the prior ; a sneer sat ever upon his curled 
 lip and his sallow and sunken features. 
 There was suspicion in his deep sunken eyes, 
 and they seemed to often rest with special 
 malignity, or even hatred, upon a young 
 monk of frank, generous bearing, who in 
 a distant corner was talking in a low 
 and earnest voice to an aged brother who 
 
2G4 ICE BOUND. 
 
 sat beside him, and who seemed from his fea- 
 tures to be a German by birth. But 
 who would dare to malign Father Cozza, 
 whose vigils were so frequent, whose fasts 
 were so oft, whose camel-knees were grown 
 callous with kneeling on the cold altar-stone, 
 whose lean back was livid with the dark scars 
 of penance-stripes — one whose book against 
 the heresy of the demon-madman, as it 
 called Luther, had attracted even the at- 
 tention of the holy Pope himself, and had 
 procured a valuable grant to the monas- 
 tery ? 
 
 Brother Jerome, the young monk of whom 
 we speak, was a young Englishman, the 
 younger son of a noble house — one who had 
 voluntarily retired from the splendour of his 
 sovereign's court to devote himself to the 
 service of the King of kings. Grief and 
 pious resignation seemed blended in his 
 face ; while over all reigned the serenity 
 of a pure heart and a clear conscience, 
 and the calm happiness of tranquil piety. 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 265 
 
 His pale and hollow cheek was, however, now 
 flushed by the excitement of dispute, and a 
 deeper red shaded it as he saw the abbot's 
 eye turned upon him benignly. Turning his 
 head from his tranquil and unmoved an- 
 tagonist, he told his beads, and muttering 
 a prayer against temptation, started as 
 his companion pulled his robe and directed 
 his attention to the wandering and unset- 
 tled gaze of Cozza. 
 
 At that moment, and before he could re- 
 ply, the abbot rose — a murmur went round 
 the room, in a moment succeeded by the 
 deep stillness of anxious expectation, as all 
 eyes turned towards the speaker : 
 
 " Brethren in Christ — evil tidings of 
 troubles and commotions have already reached 
 our lonely convent. I need not tell ye 
 what ye have heard daily from guests in 
 the Hospitium, of ' wars and rumours of 
 wars, on earth distress of nations/ and per- 
 plexity ; the seas and the waves roaring 
 'for fear of the things which are to come 
 
266 ICE BOUND. 
 
 upon the troubled world/ Thunder and re- 
 bellion hover over the land, dreadful minis- 
 ters of divine vengeance, and heralds of the 
 latter days, and now more than ever should 
 ye remember the command of Christ : Vigl 
 late et orate, ne intraiis in tentationem 
 Evil men are abroad, brethren — Christians 
 it grieves my soul to say, but in name 
 and not in very deed — qui ore conjitentur 
 et factis negant ; false prophets, lying var 
 lets, wolves who devour the flocks — lupi 
 graves qui non par cunt gregi — men who dis 
 dain the commands of our sovereign lord 
 the king, the defender of the faith, whom 
 God has set over us ; and what God hath 
 chosen, call not that unclean. Men who, 
 for filthy lucre, would preserve the empty 
 and impotent worship of dead men's bones, 
 and such fantastic mummery — especial en- 
 gines of Apollyon, as Origen, I think, some- 
 where calls them. Yea, a generation of vipers, 
 who serve not God aright, who worship 
 Mammon, who is at once their god and 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 267 
 
 king, and from whom Jesus himself pre- 
 serve us." 
 
 A murmur almost imperceptible went 
 round the room at this daring avowal of 
 principles which the abbot had long been 
 suspected of secretly advocating. Cozza, 
 like one entranced, remained with his head 
 buried in his hands. The abbot heeded 
 not, or perhaps heard not the interruption, 
 but, with a glance around, again pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 "Will it not, then, rend your breasts, 
 my brethren, when ye hear that but a short 
 hour since came hither a messenger from 
 my Lord Cromwell, bringing intelligence of 
 a revolt in Lancashire, where a vast throng 
 of mere stabbers, vagabond monks, and 
 spendthrifts, misled by those who tear 
 asunder the robe of Christ, once woven 
 perfect and without seam, beleaguer the 
 castle of Pomfret. On their banner, stained 
 with the blood of their countrymen, are 
 blazoned the wounds of Christ, which they 
 
268 ICE BOUND. 
 
 wave in defiance of our Holy Father in 
 God, the Archbishop of York, who hath 
 thrown himself within the hold. Truly, it 
 is men like these who crucify the Son 
 of God afresh, and put him to an open 
 shame. God!" cried the abbot, over- 
 come by the intensity of his feelings, " is it 
 to such hedge-priests as these that thou 
 saidst, ( Pasce, pasce ;' to murderers, who 
 know not the things which be of God, and 
 use the keys of heaven but to unlock the 
 treasure-houses of those they plunder? Yet, 
 my brethren, worse tidings than these threaten 
 to bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the 
 grave" (and a noiseless tear rolled down his 
 cheek as he spoke). " Would to God that on 
 my head alone fell the blow! Thus writes 
 my Lord Cromwell, and the black lines are 
 graven on my heart : 
 
 u ' To the Abbot of Strata Florida, salutation. 
 
 " 1 1 grieve to tell thee, my lord, believing 
 thee to be a true and humble servant of God, 
 that intelligence, from a source that cannot 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 269 
 
 be suspected, hath reached mine ears, that 
 many of the inmates of thy monastery of the 
 Flowery Plain, or, as the religious term it, 
 ' Strata Florida/ are in constant communi- 
 cation with the rebels who have risen in arms 
 in the southern counties, contrary to the 
 allegiance of true subjects; and, moreover, 
 that a pilgrimage of grace, as the knaves term 
 it, is even now secretly forming in the valleys 
 of Cardiganshire. I therefore hereby give thee 
 power, in the name of our royal master, to 
 apprehend any suspected traitors, whether 
 their guilt be deep or their loyalty be waver- 
 ing, whether in thy convent or abroad ; and 
 I shall hold thee accountable with thy head 
 (I say it in all friendship) for any outbreak 
 in thy townships. A band of hagbutteers 
 shall be spared thee, if thou need them, to 
 crush this hornets' nest. 
 
 u ' Yours very heartily, 
 
 " ' Cromwell. 
 
 " ' Given at the Palace of Windsor, 
 15th of September, 1533.' 
 
270 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " brethren, ye know not how this wrings 
 my soul ! With what divine verity did the 
 blessed St. John say, t Omnis qui confitetur 
 Jesum Christum in carne ex Deo est ;' and yet 
 how hard it is for us to throw off the bond of 
 iniquity and the gall of bitterness. It paineth 
 me to use the sword which is given me from 
 the Lord, and I fight as one that fighteth the 
 air against I know not whom. Better were 
 it for me to struggle with those frightful 
 forms of temptation, whom St. Paul compares 
 to wild beasts of Ephesus, than thus to smite 
 those who are ' bone of my bone and flesh of 
 my flesh. ' I cannot believe there are guilty 
 ones among you. Are ye not all of Christ ? 
 or are some of you indeed devils, who must 
 be cast out, and whose ministry another shall 
 take? 
 
 " When I look around, I see you receive 
 the tidings as the world does news of evil. 
 Some are bowed down, and groaning beneath 
 the unbearable weight of sorrow" (he looked 
 at Cozza) ; "some look aghast; while others, 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 271 
 
 perhaps the guilty of the flock, prate and 
 whisper as if nothing were amiss. Fear and 
 tremble, ye guilty ones, ' for I bear not the 
 sword of the Lord in vain/ In compliance 
 with the claims of my conscience, dear 
 brothers in Christ, for so I must still call ye, 
 I have drawn up an oath of allegiance to our 
 sovereign lord King Henry, which 1 shall 
 require all of ye, whether servants of God or 
 the devil, to sign at to-morrow's chapter, held 
 at the usual hour of prime ; with this, as with 
 a touchstone, I will prove ex poire diabolo 
 estis — with this, I will exorcise the fiends of 
 treason that lurk within our cloister, and, 
 rooting them out like the tares of the parable, 
 will deliver them over to the temporal magis- 
 trate for the burning. To-night I journey to 
 Aberystwith, having business of some moment 
 with the governor, and the prior, Cozza, goes 
 with me. Brother Jerome will guard the flock 
 till my return, and let, I beseech ye, the prayers 
 of the faithful be offered up that saints and 
 angels may defend us all against the lion that 
 
272 ICE BOUND. 
 
 walketh about seeking whom he may devour." 
 Then extending his hands over the assembly, 
 the abbot pronounced the benediction, and the 
 assembly broke up, the monks disappearing, 
 like spectres, with the noiseless tread with 
 which they had entered. In small groups they 
 hastened to their cells to prepare for vespers, 
 or to mutter together their expressions of mu- 
 tual wonder, fear, and suspicion. 
 
 The prior alone remained like one in a 
 vision, or him of whose soul the apostle spoke, 
 " whether in the body or out of the body, I 
 cannot tell, God knoweth." There he sat, 
 his head still bent by the habit of affected 
 humility, apparently unconscious of the soli- 
 tude in which he was left. His eye fixed, 
 his lips moving convulsively, his fingers 
 passing over the beads of his chaplet half 
 mechanically. 
 
 " Brother Cozza," said the abbot, rising 
 from his desk, and touching him on the 
 shoulder, after looking at him for a moment 
 with a look of calm approval, " turn thy pious 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 273 
 
 thoughts for a moment to earth, and now 
 mount thy white palfrey and come with me 
 to-night to Aberystwith, for we need counsel 
 in these troublous times." 
 
 Cozza started at his touch, and looked 
 round at the vacant chamber like one who 
 sees a spectre. The abbot started as the 
 prior's upturned face met his gaze, for a 
 world of contending passions seemed boiling 
 within his heart, and his sunken eyes gleamed 
 with a wild phosphorescent light, that looked 
 almost like the first gleam of madness. On 
 his brow, ordinarily pale, there was, too, a 
 deep hectic patch of scarlet that spread and 
 throbbed beneath the calm glance of the 
 abbot. He might have seemed a long- 
 imprisoned captive, the Ugolino of his own 
 country's poet, brooding in hell over his 
 great wrongs. 
 
 " Thy vigils are too numerous, holy father; 
 thy fastings too severe for frail man. Thy 
 spirit is willing, but thy flesh is weak. Come, 
 come, go bid our lay-brother, Gwyllim, saddle 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274: ICE BOUND. 
 
 the horses for our journey, and meet us anon 
 at the orchard farm." Without one gesture, 
 but a bend of assent, Cozza stole silently 
 from the room with averted eye and down- 
 cast head, as if still wrestling with some 
 mighty and all-engrossing thought. 
 
 " A holy man," soliloquised the benevolent 
 abbot, as he sought the rich chambers which 
 were devoted to his use, " but too ascetical in 
 his deeds of charity ; I also fear, superstitious, 
 and too stanch an upholder of the descendants 
 of the fisherman : but Christ's net is large, 
 and in its meshes all varieties of fish are cap- 
 tured. Let our charity, then, be wide and all- 
 embracing as his." And with another glance 
 at his retreating form, the abbot hastened to 
 prepare for his journey, and to give directions 
 for the chapter of the following day. 
 
 Within an hour, the abbot and the prior, 
 lighted by the setting sun of an autumn day, 
 were far on their way towards Aberystwith. 
 
275 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Other sins only speak, murder shrieks out ; 
 
 The element of water moistens earth, 
 
 But blood flies upward and bedews the heavens. 
 
 Webster. 
 
 Such a guilt as sure will lie 
 
 Howling for ever at your wounded heart, 
 
 And with you rise to judgment. 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 The sun was near its setting, and ere the riders 
 were out of sight of the monastery " night's 
 pageant" had commenced in the west. 
 Yonder was the monarch of day, girt with 
 clouds that caught a tincture from his crown 
 of flame, like a hero undaunted though de- 
 feated, striving with his shafts of light to still 
 break a way through the dark phalanx of his 
 
 T 2 
 
27G ICE BOUND. 
 
 rival, night. Already daylight shone, ere the 
 stout palfreys had paced a mile, with a fainter 
 glow, dying out like the last lamp of a 
 glorious banqueting-hall. As they turned to 
 look back, they saw its pale and melancholy 
 lustre gilding the distant pinnacles of Ystrad 
 Flur, that a turn of the road now again ren- 
 dered visible as they rose, hemmed in by the 
 dark-wooded banks, that once gave it shelter 
 and ornament. 
 
 " Such a radiance," said the good abbot to 
 his absent companion, who had dropped be- 
 hind, and now spurred his palfrey to reach his 
 superior, " I saw playing upon the calm 
 features of our dear brother Anselm, when he 
 yielded his soul to the God who gave it, last 
 All-Hallow mass." 
 
 His companion made no answer. As he 
 spoke, they were in the act of crossing the 
 Teivy, a small stream that has its source some 
 two miles further to the north-east, and which, 
 breaking through the rampart of stone that 
 in vain tries to confine the subtle element 
 within a tarn, which legends say is unfathom- 
 
THE MONASTERY OF TIIE FLOWERY PLAIN. 277 
 
 able, finds its way slowly to the green, dreary 
 plain which they were traversing. 
 
 For another mile they rode on in that 
 silence which, for such different reasons, was 
 congenial to both minds. The tranquil and 
 pious spirit of the abbot had been shaken to 
 the centre by the news of the morning. The 
 calm soul that ordinarily brooded in peace was 
 perturbed and ruffled. Cozza, too, had cause 
 for thought. His mental eye was fixed on the 
 boiling torrent of his own passions, like that 
 of a traveller who watches the fusion in a 
 crater's mouth. His soul was convulsed by 
 the recent birth of a hideous thought too soon 
 to be put in action. For one — for two miles 
 they had thus ridden, undisturbed by any 
 sound but the monotonous clattering of hoofs 
 and the jingling of their ornamented trappings. 
 They had now arrived at a bare, melancholy 
 spot, such as even dreary Cardiganshire can 
 boast but few of, where the horizon was 
 hemmed in with broad green hills of unbroken 
 outline, which the very goat seemed instinc- 
 tively to have shunned. Even by day no wild 
 
278 ICE BOUND. 
 
 bird sang there, and no bee roamed thither, in 
 search of thinly-scattered flowers ; a grey still 
 evening it was, chilling even to men inured 
 to the life of a convent. The place seemed in 
 the dreary twilight the region of a purgatorial 
 dream. In such a waste might St. Anthony 
 have been tempted by the " prince of the 
 powers of the air." The clouds were low 
 upon the hills, and there was an oppressive 
 density in the atmosphere such as often heralds 
 thunder. All nature seemed weighed down 
 and oppressed by the dread of the approach- 
 ing elementine war. Twilight alone reigned 
 during this dreadful interregnum of sun and 
 moon. 
 
 The abbot, arousing himself from a deep 
 reverie into which he had half unconsciously 
 fallen, first broke the silence. So loud and so 
 supernatural seemed his voice, after that long 
 pause, that the Italian started like " a guilty 
 thing upon a fearful summons," but, instantly 
 recovering himself, pushed on his palfrey to 
 his companion's side. 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE PLOWERY PLAIN. 279 
 
 " I feel such a weight at brain and heart, 
 dear brother," he said, " as I never felt 
 before. This seems to me such an eve as 
 may have heralded the dreadful dawn of 
 those days of darkness that fell upon the 
 Egyptians ; but I would talk to thee now of 
 deeper things than such lemures of the mind, 
 as Origen calls them." He looked at the 
 sky for a moment, and proceeded : " Un- 
 bosom thyself to me, thy father in the faith, 
 and tell me if thou indeed knowest of any 
 of our brotherhood who favour the Judases of 
 whom thou this morning heardst ? Alas ! that 
 any should indulge in a sin worse than that 
 compact with the Evil One which I, with 
 many of the fathers, could almost believe is 
 the sin against the Holy Ghost, spoken of by 
 our blessed Lord." 
 
 " I know of none," replied Cozza, sternly, 
 " except it may be brother Jerome, or that 
 heretic Eisenstein. They whisper together, 
 they are less constant at lauds, and are 
 oftener shut in their cells." 
 
280 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " I cannot mistrust them/' said the abbot, 
 firmly ; " they are good men, though they 
 do not conceal their opinion that the Pope 
 should have no jurisdiction in this land." 
 
 " And callest thou this little," said Cozza, 
 with an ill-concealed expression of rage, that 
 however passed unnoticed by his unobservant 
 companion, " to deny the authority of him 
 to whom Jesu gave the keys of hell and 
 heaven ? But hast thou heard aught lately," 
 he added, with the concentrated manner 
 of one who would dive into the very heart 
 of him he addresses, "of that runaway monk 
 Luther — that blasphemer, that sin-spotted 
 son of perdition ?" 
 
 " Speak not so harshly of one whom God 
 alone will judge," said the abbot, reprovingly. 
 " The holy Pontiff can well spare from his 
 well-filled treasuries the profits of those his 
 misused indulgences." 
 
 His companion's brow had been growing 
 darker and darker during this speech in 
 favour of one so odious ; in another instant 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIX. 281 
 
 he would have forgotten all respect due to 
 a superior whom he secretly despised ; but 
 at that instant the sound of the vesper-bell 
 came borne towards them upon the almost 
 breathless wind. It was the voice of religion 
 speaking to the shepherd and the traveller 
 on the mountains ; it seemed, as Dante says, 
 " to mourn the passing day." 
 
 Dismounting, the monks knelt for a 
 moment and again rose. At that' instant the 
 hand of Cozza was groping in the folds of his 
 robe, but, withdrawing it, he calmly mounted 
 and rode on behind the abbot, who, crossing 
 his brow and breast, was uttering a short 
 prayer against "the terror that walketh 
 by night." It was a stiletto that Cozza 
 sought for in his robe. What stayed him ? 
 — The lurid glare of that comet that now 
 flamed forth like a burning world in the 
 heavens. His ghastly eye turned upon 
 it with an expression of pain, fear, and 
 hatred. 
 
 " The moon will be up soon to 
 
282 ICE BOUND. 
 
 light us to our desired haven/' said the 
 abbot, cheerfully, with an anxious look at 
 the luminary, which, almost as he spoke, 
 came forth from behind a dark vaporous 
 cloud, whose skirts it suffused with silver; 
 "but prithee, good Cozza, spur on thy 
 palfrey, which cares for thee truly no more 
 than a Flemish charger for a page, rouse 
 thyself from those trancelike contemplations 
 which too often unseat reason, and look 
 at yon comet, like a flaming sword, that 
 threatens more woe to the earth." 
 
 Involuntarily his companion looked up at 
 the fearful symbol that seemed to his heated 
 fancy to redden their very path, and he 
 shuddered as he looked. 
 
 " 'Twill be midnight ere we reach Aberyst- 
 with, my lord Abbot," he exclaimed, assum- 
 ing, with all the versatility of his reptile na- 
 ture, a correspondent joy fulness, as if he 
 had shaken away all care from his heart; 
 " but still, methinks, if the moon shines as 
 it shineth now, I could even point thee out the 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 283 
 
 new and dangerous fissure in the arch of the 
 Pont y Fynach, could you" (and he assumed 
 the blandest tones of courtesy, and of one pro- 
 posing an unreasonable request) "but dismount 
 and descend a few rude steps of a fisherman's 
 path that leads to the black torrent — but 
 that were impossible." 
 
 " What fissure dost thou speak of? " 
 said the abbot, in a tone of wonder ; " I 
 think, good Cozza, that thou hast conversed 
 so much with the saints, that lately thou hast 
 forgotten how to speak to sinful men." 
 (Why did Cozza avert his eyes from that 
 gentle glance, as though it \had been the 
 withering gaze of a lost spirit ?) " Hast 
 thou known me to ever shun fatigue and toil 
 when God or man could be served, weak 
 and erring as I am ? How should I la- 
 ment if harm were to betide that old 
 bridge built by the religious of an early 
 age, consecrated by the feet of the preachers 
 of the cross, and over which so many 
 saints in heaven have passed and repassed, 
 
284 ICE BOUND. 
 
 while toiling and sorrowing on this our 
 earth. Have we not still in our convent 
 traditions of the struggles of our blessed 
 founders with those horrid monsters of the 
 old religion who, rising from the black 
 abyss which seemeth like a sallyport of 
 hell, thwarted those who would have first 
 spanned it over with a pathway of stone 
 for the love of Christ? Judge me not so 
 unkindly, Cozza." 
 
 " Pardon me, Father Abbot, I did but try 
 thy zeal. A peasant to whom but this morn- 
 ing I gave alms at the convent-grate, told me 
 of a fissure which had lately appeared, and 
 which threatens danger; already a troop 
 of horsemen has turned back and sought 
 a safer road. The danger needs, he says, 
 but to be arrested in time, and to our 
 care, as its early founders, appertaineth its 
 restoration, though the vulgar say it was 
 reared by Apollyon himself." And Cozza 
 essayed to smile. 
 
 "Oh! God forbid!" said the abbot, 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 285 
 
 whose zeal was now fully aroused — " God 
 forbid that, to get an hour sooner to our 
 hostelrie, we should imperil the life of man 
 or beast." 
 
 The good man had scarcely spoken, ere, 
 turning an abrupt angle of the road, the 
 Pont y Fynach, or Monk's Bridge, came 
 in sight. The course of the Mynach, the 
 thunder of whose falls they had long 
 heard pulsating through the rocky glen in 
 which it roared, lay beneath. Within a hun- 
 dred yards of those broad, unbroken, bar- 
 ren mountains, the landscape had changed, 
 as if they had suddenly passed over the 
 boundary of some new jregion. In the 
 midst of a wide arena of gathered hills 
 broke the great black chasm, worn as by the 
 dark subsidence of a deluge, through 
 which, unseen, tearing their impeded way, 
 roar the twin torrents, the Mynach and the 
 Rheidol, that, leaping down from their moun- 
 tain homes to whisper weird things, and 
 to work woe to man in this wild, dreary 
 
286 ICE BOUND. 
 
 spot, crash on, rending a path between 
 the thick-wooded rocks that vainly at- 
 tempt to restrain their blind fury. On 
 the one side of the road lay the thick 
 sloping forest, like an immense but silent 
 multitude, beneath the moon, now newly 
 risen, the tree tops tinted by its pale silver 
 fire ; beneath them, hundreds of feet be- 
 low on either side, roared the waters, as 
 they dashed over huge fragments of blanched 
 rock, and wore them into deep channels 
 with the lashing foam, which a great poet, 
 speaking of such a scene, calls " the sweat 
 of their great agony/' in very scorn of the 
 brute might that would bar their progress 
 to the free, broad, peaceful current beyond. 
 Here and there in the distance, through 
 breaks in the green woods, might be seen 
 the white flashings of the highest fall, 
 which, surging and boiling, filled the air 
 with the eternal sound of its unintermit- 
 ting thunder. Under their feet, poised in air, 
 dark against the clear sky, rose the bridge 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 287 
 
 which tradition reported to have been raised 
 by supernatural help, angelic or devilish, 
 as monk or peasant told the tale. Be- 
 neath its arch lay the deepest torrent, 
 whose silent rushing was more dreadful than 
 even the clamour in the distance. The shadow 
 of the arch threw the water's black depths into 
 a deeper shade. 
 
 How solemn it looked, that work of men 
 who had passed away, even dwarfed as it was 
 by the Titanic workings of nature which 
 lay around it and beneath it. Could man's 
 dark thoughts plan evil there, with the 
 very sounds of God's unceasing voice in 
 the cataract ringing in his ears ? The 
 good man could hear that still small whisper 
 of angels in the little runnelet that trickled 
 through the woods to its own soft silvery 
 murmur ; but the wicked was deaf even 
 to those mighty warning-throbbings that 
 seemed to shake the firm-set earth. 
 
 " Might not peasants well imagine, dear 
 brother, that spirits of the waters dwelt 
 
288 ICE BOUND. 
 
 in these depths, to tempt travellers to de- 
 struction ? " 
 
 Cozza replied not ; but could the abbot 
 have heard his mutterings, he would have 
 known that he was articulating between his 
 teeth, "Not yet — not yet!" 
 
 " Cozza, I fear for thy health. I never 
 saw thee look so wan as now. Thou shalt 
 stay awhile by the sea, down at Aberystwith ; 
 it will render thee fitter to bear the toils and 
 asceticisms of our cloister." 
 
289 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Tying his patient palfrey with that of the 
 abbot, to whom he pressed to do ser- 
 vice with all the feigned humility of a 
 lay brother, to the trunk of a birch, whose 
 silver stem sprang up like a slender pillar 
 of silver from a crevice in the old bridge, 
 Cozza knelt for a moment in prayer at the 
 foot of a wayside cross, reared, as the le- 
 gend ran, to the memory of a knight who, 
 long before the erection of the bridge, had 
 perished while crossing the ford below dur- 
 ing a stormy January night, though, ac- 
 cording to a conflicting story, it recorded 
 the later murder of a Flemish merchant in 
 a dark cavern near the falls, far beneath 
 vol. i. u 
 
290 ICE BOUND. 
 
 the grey arch. A half-obliterated inscrip- 
 tion on the shaft, bidding the passer-by 
 pray for the soul of Sir Walter de Clare, 
 favoured the former opinion ; and still, at 
 stated periods, the monks of Strata Florida 
 sang masses at midnight for the soul of the 
 departed knight. 
 
 Taking the arm of his more youthful 
 and vigorous companion, the abbot, turn- 
 ing into a precipitous path to the left of 
 the road, commenced the descent with the 
 hesitating step of one more accustomed 
 to rush-strewn floor and smooth-paved 
 cloister than the broken passage of a tor- 
 rent-path. At every step he glanced up 
 inquiringly at the bridge, whose dark sha- 
 dow contrasted strongly with its rough 
 surface, frosted by the moonlight, which, find- 
 ing its way by devious openings through 
 the obscure trees above, strove in vain to 
 light up the black stream that foamed and 
 seethed in impotent madness in the narrow 
 hell of waters beneath. Many a traveller 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIX. 291 
 
 had entered that rocky mouth and returned 
 no more. 
 
 " I see no fissure/' said the abbot, impa- 
 tiently turning round to his companion, 
 whose pale face grew darker, as if it had been 
 shaded by the wing of a passing spirit. 
 
 " Further down — yet further down/' he 
 said, in a deep hoarse voice. " Gird up your 
 robe to the very girdle ; I say the fissure 
 gapes wider than even on yesternight. Step 
 on yon broad, smooth table-rock that over- 
 hangs the bed of the torrent. Bend more 
 over; I am close at thy back." 
 
 The abbot leant forward and peered into 
 the darkness, and, standing again erect, 
 looked like a spectre, as his white robes 
 gleamed in the moonlight, that now broke 
 through the noon of night to the very surface 
 of the hell-pool. 
 
 " How dreadful is this place !" he ex- 
 claimed; " well might the holy men of God 
 believe that here lay an entrance to the pur- 
 gatory of Ocean, the roar of the torrent 
 
 u2 
 
292 ICE BOUND. 
 
 drowning the cries of the suffering wretches. 
 Domine, dirige nos!" 
 
 u Then join them, fool V cried Cozza, who 
 had hitherto remained silent, with the shriek 
 of a madman when the hour of frenzy ap- 
 proaches, and striking the wretched man as he 
 spoke heavily on the brow with his clenched 
 fist. There was a heavy plunge, a whirlpool of 
 spouting foam, a stifled cry of " Oh, Mother 
 of God I" and a mangled form, borne through 
 the winding chasm in a moment with the 
 speed of light, helplessly as a thistledown on 
 a swollen river, perceptible to the eye only by 
 the flash of the white robe as it passed, 
 floated out slowly, spread out upon the dark 
 water, floated under the dull shadow of the 
 bridge, was retarded for a moment by some 
 rock that impeded its progress, then hurried 
 on by a side current — hurried on, and passed 
 away. 
 
 " Heretic ! dullard !" exclaimed the monk, 
 " well hast thou deserved thy fate. Now 
 have I requited thee for proud scorn and 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 293 
 
 for cruel jibes on the poor monk of Italy, 
 now thy vacant seat shall another take — 
 let the cause of God go on and prosper ! 
 I thank God for this hour of vengeance !" 
 And the murderer fell on his knees, in impious 
 mockery of the God of peace and love. 
 
 Tor a moment he remained motionless ; the 
 fire of conscience was already lit in heart and 
 brain — a flame that would grow fiercer, but 
 never could be extinguished. But an instant 
 before the abbot had stood beside that red- 
 handed murderer, his own baleful look had 
 rested on those calm, placid features, now 
 marred and defaced by death. And such a 
 death ! One little moment, and that soul 
 stood before the face of its Creator, if such 
 there were — for Cozza doubted of hell and 
 heaven — and it was he who had sent the soul 
 " unknelled and unannealed," with all its im- 
 perfections on its head, to that dread bar ! 
 Could he, who but three short hours since sat 
 at the head of his chapter in all the pride of 
 
294 ICE BOUND. 
 
 spiritual and temporal power, be already a 
 swollen and disfigured corpse? 
 
 Cozza was a murderer — his livid face was 
 branded by passion as with the badge of Cain. 
 It was base and cowardly he knew — yet he 
 trembled with the fears of those poor supersti- 
 tious serfs at whose confessions he had mocked. 
 That peal of thunder, rolling among the dis- 
 tant hills, and now vibrating nearer, was it 
 the voice of God, such as spoke to Cain when 
 the first-shed blood was still steaming up an 
 accursed libation to the evening clouds ? 
 
 How it blasted him, that lightning, that 
 clove through the arch like the flaming 
 sword of some avenging angel ! Now all 
 nature seemed gifted with a voice to denounce 
 his crime and to proclaim it to the universe. 
 Into his perturbed mind there thronged le- 
 gends of murdered saints, and of the dreadful 
 end of their murderers. 
 
 The thunder's dreadful "organ-pipe" pro- 
 claimed it, and told it with the voice of Heaven 
 to the winds ; the roaring waters caught it 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 295 
 
 next, as they fell from rocky ledge to shelf 
 below, and they shouted it to the little silver- 
 tongued brooks that rippled down the hills ; 
 then the fading leaves became instinct with life, 
 and nestled and bent together in fearful whis- 
 pering, that maddened him to hear, as some 
 night-bird, screaming far overhead, like a soul 
 taking flight, bore it away to other lands — 
 perhaps to his own fair country of vine and 
 orange-blossoms, the land of his innocent 
 youth, the land of his earliest crimes. 
 
 But the sternest witness was the wind that 
 howled around him, and flapped his robe as he 
 stood gazing with wild eyes and clutched hands 
 at the spot where the body had disappeared. It 
 was the wind that, pouring down the ravine 
 of the mountains, roared like a demon for his 
 prey, and shook the surging and rocking trees, 
 and bellowed in defeated rage through the echo- 
 ing arch, muttering as if men were standing 
 above and calling for the murderer, over the 
 dark abyss of the torrent. Was some spirit 
 coming to smite him where he stood — the 
 
296 ICE BOUND. 
 
 murderer, the infidel, the sinner against the 
 Holy Ghost, if ever one lived on God's earth ? 
 Now the wind grew calmer, and died away in 
 inarticulate mutterings ; then it swept along 
 with redoubled violence, so that the very 
 trees bent under it like pliant rushes. And 
 this storm his crime had called up. Groans 
 and shrieks seem to reach him from the dark- 
 ness beyond. The merest imagination grew at 
 once to a reality. The storm grew bolder. 
 Crime never looks so horrible as on such a 
 night, when the minister of God seems 
 abroad riding on the storm. 
 
 The monk, clinging to the rock, looked 
 down again upon the fatal spot from which 
 his eyes had hitherto been averted. The 
 waters, swollen by rain that had fallen at 
 noon, were foaming like a hell-caldron within 
 their narrow prison. He could not see the 
 body ; one fragment of a white robe lay upon a 
 rock almost beyond the reach of the water, but 
 as he gazed a blast carried it down the stream 
 and it passed away. The arch threw its deepest 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 297 
 
 shadow upon one still eddy, there the body 
 might lie, or it might have been borne down 
 to the falls below by the raging impetuosity 
 of the stream. What if it had been dashed 
 on some dry-lichened rock, where it would be 
 seen by the first fisherman who waded down 
 thither ere daybreak ? Oh, horror ! that 
 crime should prove so useless, that all should 
 be lost in heaven and nothing gained on 
 earth ! 
 
 Come what will, he must see the end. 
 Bedrenched as he was, with the speed of one 
 who, winged with hope, follows a wounded 
 deer, the Italian clambered alone up that 
 steep, rarely-trodden path, and in a moment 
 was again upon the wayside. There, beside 
 the cross, lighted by a momentary break in the 
 storm, still stood the palfreys, drenched and 
 trembling in the rain and wind. The abbot's 
 he unfastened, and lashing him with a thong, 
 urged him at the height of his speed towards 
 Aberystwith. Swift as a mountaineer he 
 sought the right-hand path to the river. Clam- 
 
298 ICE BOUND. 
 
 bering down the rocky side, pushing his way 
 through bush, bramble, and thick under- 
 wood, he hurried on to the lower falls, guided 
 by the sound of their loud-voiced thunder. ■ 
 
 Working his toilsome way, soaked with 
 rain, and bleeding with the thorns that tore 
 his hands, he reached a small cavern, the 
 scene of ancient murder, hollowed out of a 
 rock that overhung the falls. Close to him — 
 so close that he could have touched it — 
 poured down the sheet of water from a height 
 of ninety feet, like a river flashing past with 
 the speed of light, broken into crystal foam by 
 the angles of black rock that jarred the thin 
 veil of water that leapt on to basins below, 
 from whence it fell again to the bed beneath. 
 No mangled corpse was there — no relic of the 
 deed of blood ; pure and unstained by gore, 
 the waters passed like molten silver from a 
 mine fused by the hidden fire of a volcano. 
 
 "But, ah! God above, Holy Virgin, and 
 all the saints who pity man, was that a human 
 voice, or a mocking fiend, that cries so shrilly 
 from above, ' My lord abbot ! ' In God's 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 209 
 
 name, answer!" — a quick footstep is crushing 
 its way through bushes. The murderer will 
 be caught like a wolf in his den ; to escape is 
 impossible ; the steps come nearer. With a 
 scowl of rage and terror Cozza grasps a 
 poniard. The blade flashes in the moonlight. 
 Hush ! keep closer, cower down behind that 
 jutting rock. " My lord abbot ! " He comes — 
 'tis Jerome ; he passes so near that the mur- 
 derer felt his warm breath ; one blow, he falls 
 with a deep groan. Cozza stays not to repeat 
 the stroke. Deep panting, with glaring eye, 
 and with his hand still clutching the knife in 
 all the wild energy of his despair, the monk 
 regained the path. With a hurried look 
 around, and listening for a moment, he leapt 
 on his palfrey, set the other loose and galloped 
 in the direction of the monastery. 
 
 Away from the scene of blood, his fears 
 soon subsided. He grew calmer, and mocked 
 at his own guilty qualms as he urged on his 
 benumbed steed with word and blow. White 
 was that monk's robe when he had bent his 
 knee at early matins, but now, to the eye of 
 
300 ICE BOUND. 
 
 sorrowing angel and guardian spirit, it was all 
 blood bestained. He hurries on, hardly daring, 
 in spite of the hardihood of a seared conscience, 
 to look back upon a track traversed but a few 
 hours since ; shutting his eyes at lonely spots 
 which he had seen lying peaceful beneath the 
 sunset, when his mind was but labouring with 
 thought of a murder as yet unperformed — with 
 thoughts of priestly power and potency yet to 
 come. The moon looked forth again, as if the 
 struggles of nature had passed away with the 
 crime it were vain to veil. How calmly it looked 
 down upon him, like the sorrowing gaze of 
 God himself. The shadows that fell on road- 
 side wall and hedge seemed double. " 'Twas 
 fantasy," he said ; " mere brain-sick thought." 
 He had but sent two accursed heretics a few 
 days earlier to judgment. 
 
 He thought of the dropping of blood when 
 the ripples of a rill caught his ear ; and now 
 he sweats for very anguish, for 'tis scarce a 
 mile from the monastery, and behind him, on 
 the night wind, comes the trampling sound of 
 horse's hoofs. The dead pursue not the living ! 
 
301 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Conscience needs no corporeal form to 
 haunt the criminal ; she is invisible, but still 
 present in the cell and on the scaffold ; 
 and her loudest voice is when he stands 
 for the moment before death, trembling and 
 appalled before the gazing thousands. Cozza 
 is paralysed with fear; his hardihood for- 
 sakes him. From his half-frozen hand drops 
 the bridle, as a horseman rides up and sa- 
 lutes him. A plain trooper by his dress — 
 a cross on his plain doublet, and a red 
 feather in a plain steel morion. 'Twas a 
 hearty, jovial voice that bid Cozza hail. 
 Strangely discordant it seemed in the mur- 
 
302 ICE BOUND. 
 
 derer's ears — could it be a minister of 
 blood? 
 
 " Pax vobiscum, Sir Monk ! but I have 
 ridden hard to reach thee. Thy palfrey 
 flew as I've seen a wild horse do before the 
 wolves of the savannahs. But how pale 
 and haggard thou lookest — art unwell, man ? 
 Hast thou just left some bed of death? 
 They say monks spend not all their time 
 by dying men." 
 
 " Death — dying men ! " stammered the 
 Italian, unable to shake off the fears that 
 beset him in spite of the subtlety of his 
 nature. 
 
 " Death, good Signor Echo — yes, death ; 
 and why not? Do Adam's children never 
 die among these healthy mountains? Sure, if 
 none look better than thee, thou sheeted 
 ghost with thy shroud on, the sexton has 
 good guerdon and worn-out shovels." 
 
 " A peace to thy ribaldry, good sol- 
 dier, for such I judge thee," said the monk, 
 instantly sobered by the vicinity to danger, 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIX. 303 
 
 and assuming his wonted soft and servile 
 voice. "I ride on business of the convent, 
 and have visited no dead to-night." 
 
 "Well, by the mass! if thou hadst 
 just emerged from a charnel-house, thou 
 couldst not look more like a mould-turner 
 than thou dost. By our Lady ! if thou 
 hadst seen death in as many shapes as I 
 have, the fearful change, as the mumble 
 matins call it, coming over white and dusky 
 faces alike, thou wouldst not fear it much, 
 but prepare to meet it gaily, flask in hand, 
 like a welcome guest or an unexpected 
 bride, rather than freeze thy blood on cold 
 stones, or whining out prayers in damp cells, 
 wrapped in sackcloths, as those of you who 
 dont love women and the wine-cup do. 
 It's a cursed scurvy life — give me the camp, 
 father." 
 
 " Good night, friend. I am bound for 
 yonder monastery," said Cozza, impatient 
 of the wild license of the rough trooper. 
 
 " Not too fast, pious brother. I wend 
 
304 ICE BOUND. 
 
 thither too ; and this stout roan longs for 
 his oats as much as his rider does for a pasty." 
 
 They had approached the gate as they 
 spoke, and within could be heard the deep 
 sound of the bell tolling for lauds, or mid- 
 night service. The lay brother that opened 
 the barred door started at the sight of 
 Cozza, who, frowning at his wondering 
 gaze, silenced his curiosity by bidding him 
 quickly find fit lodgings and refection for 
 the stranger. 
 
 " And where leftst thou our holy father? " 
 said a monk who met them on their way 
 to the hospitium. 
 
 "I bade him adieu," said Cozza, coldly, 
 " within sight of the ocean. He bade me 
 tarry with him ; but I would no longer 
 loiter amid worldly scenes, unfitted for the 
 Christian mind. For there was a pageant 
 on the morrow, and jousts." 
 
 "Farewell till the morning," said the 
 soldier, as Cozza left him over a flask of 
 Xeres and a smoking fowl. " It is already 
 reddening for the dawn." 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 305 
 
 11 Ked as blood," muttered the Italian 
 with a sigh, as he hastened to his cell, and, 
 apparelled as he was, threw himself on his 
 poor pallet, but not to sleep ; for with 
 each half-formed dream came thoughts of 
 seas of blood, of the torrent, of float- 
 ing corses and inarticulate voices ; every 
 scene, just as if it should have melted into 
 gentle, soothing, blessed sleep, was lit up 
 with the glare of an impending comet, that 
 went through Cozza's brain like a blinding 
 flash, and made him leap up and stare 
 around. Then he would lie down, and 
 act over each moment of the crime, 
 feel the night air play upon his fevered 
 cheek, and the blood again throbbing more 
 leisurely to his heart, when that cry of 
 " My lord abbot ! " rang in his ears — the 
 voice of that accursed monk who ever 
 crossed his path to thwart and to torment 
 — whose presence was as hateful to him, as 
 torturing, as a pure angel's would be to the 
 mad blasphemers of hell's dark regions. Again 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
306 ICE BOUND. 
 
 that hot breath rests upon his cheek ; it seems 
 for hours — hours of agony. Once more the 
 cry, " My lord abbot ! " and he wakes from 
 his first short sleep. It is day ; the realities 
 of a gnawing conscience are less dreadful 
 than the pangs of those dreams. There are 
 the bare walls of his cell ; a stream of pale 
 light falls through the narrow-grated aper- 
 ture on a crucifix — the image of that Sa- 
 viour whom he had crucified afresh, to whom 
 he dared not pray. He awoke to the 
 dreadful consciousness — which no sophistry 
 can hide from itself — of the black and 
 eternal presence of crime that forces itself 
 into every thought, and blends with every 
 scene — he has, too, fears for the future. 
 
 How can he meet the questions of his 
 inquiring brethren? How can he give a 
 probable account of a death of which he 
 knows so well, but should know nothing? 
 What if the body should be recovered ? He 
 rises and sits on the side of his pallet, 
 and leans his burning brow upon his hands. 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 307 
 
 He has a dozen immature schemes within his 
 mind ; it is his to twine them into all the 
 glosed semblance of truth. Could the pal- 
 frey have fallen over the precipice — the 
 moon was too bright. Now he has it ! He 
 leaps up in delight : that wild stranger 
 must weave the snare. A knock. He starts 
 as guilt alone will start. 
 
 "Fra Cozza." 
 
 "Who's there?" 
 
 A well-known name. A monk enters. 
 
 " I heard a shriek, and came, thinking 
 you might be in some grievous pain, for 
 you have lately looked overworn with vigil 
 and penance." 
 
 " I am well, brother ; but in a dream I 
 wrestled with a demon who would not leave 
 me, and I shrieked in my despair ; at last, I 
 muttered an exorcism and it fled. But 
 what of the — Je — the — are all our brothers 
 within at their devotions ? n 
 
 " All save the abbot and brother Jerome, 
 whom none have heard of since vespers." 
 
 x2 
 
308 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " Vile heretic ! I gage my golden crucifix 
 that Jerome has left us for ever. But talk 
 not of him — mention not his accursed name," 
 said Cozza, with an outburst of passion so 
 unexpected from one so saintly, that it at 
 once astonished and awed into silence the 
 humble servitor. " Tarry not here with 
 this idle prating; in the absence of the 
 renegade the management of the holy house 
 devolves by right on me. The day draws 
 on ; bring pens and an inkhorn to my cell, 
 then rouse the stranger who came here last 
 night, and bring him hither in half an 
 hour. 
 
 In an instant the lay brother returned with 
 the inkhorn, and, bowing humbly to the 
 spiritual regent, withdrew. Then barring his 
 cell carefully, the Italian, lifting his rude 
 mattress, drew a paper from a hiding-place, 
 and began to write earnestly, but slowly, 
 and with the air of one who studied the 
 shape of every letter. Then folding the 
 sheet into a square form, he bound it with 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 309 
 
 a silk band and sealed it with a seal drawn 
 from his girdle. He had scarcely finished 
 ere a tap at the door announced the arrival 
 of the stranger. Cozza unbarred it, dismissed 
 the attendant monk, admitted the soldier 
 with a smile of recognition, and again closed 
 the door cautiously behind him. 
 
 " A soldier, as thou seemest to be," he 
 said, in a confidential voice, " will, I suppose, 
 do anything for an angel, when he ventures 
 his life daily for a paltry groat ?" 
 
 " I draw my sword for him who pays me 
 best," said the soldier, bluntly, making an 
 awkward salute as to one whom he now dis- 
 covered to be of higher rank than he had 
 supposed. " Is the service a perilous service? 
 i The harder the knocks the more crowns in 
 the pouch/ says the adage." 
 
 " No perilous task is mine, friend. I 
 would have thee but deliver this letter to 
 the chapter, to whom thou must represent 
 thyself as sent from the castellan of Aberyst- 
 with." 
 
9 
 
 10 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " Oh, mere lying and a little honest per- 
 jury," said the man, with a glance of half- 
 sarcastic naivete. 
 
 " But I had almost forgot to ask thee on 
 what errand thou art bound to these wild 
 regions away from hold or garrison. Art 
 thou one of Vaughan's men, or but an hag- 
 butteer from Conway ?" 
 
 " In nomine sanctorum Lutherus ana- 
 thema," said the soldier, quickly, eyeing 
 keenly his interrogant. 
 
 " Lutherus anathema maranatha," replied 
 Cozza, giving the countersign of the Pilgrims 
 of Grace. 
 
 " I am sent hither from the North to bid 
 the pilgrims hasten, for there the faithful have 
 already risen against a robber king and his 
 butcher minister, who is more fit to trail a pike, 
 as he once did, than hold the reins of state." 
 
 " The beacon needs but to be kindled ; 
 bills and bows are already distributed. Once 
 ring our convent-bell backwards, and half 
 Wales will rise from sleep." 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 311 
 
 ° But have you no false heretics whom we 
 have to fear ?" 
 
 11 A few such are there w T ithin our convent; 
 but for them," said Cozza, with a boding 
 frown, " we will provide. Beneath this are 
 vaults where many skeletons lie in chains — 
 the living shall take their place. " 
 
 " Ah, ah," said the soldier, smiling ; 
 " there's nothing like your monk when his 
 blood's warm, if the stake be piled, and the 
 fire ready." 
 
 But Cozza heard him not. Calling a 
 humble monk who was praying in an adjoin- 
 ing cell, he bid him summon those he wot of 
 to meet him in the chapter-room without a 
 moment's delay. 
 
 " This soldier brings us a letter from 
 Aberystwith ; doubtless from our holy father." 
 Breaking the thread, he read its contents 
 with a simulated voice of sorrow and astonish- 
 ment : 
 
312 ICE BOUND. 
 
 " ' To the Religious of the Convent of Strata Florida — 
 Salutem in Domine. 
 
 " ' I grieve to tell you that your father in 
 God, Abbot Hilary, fell asleep in Christ soon 
 after his arrival in this our castle. Departing 
 without a groan, his blessed spirit flew to 
 join the just in heaven. He will be buried 
 in the castle chapel, privately, to-morrow at 
 eventide, and masses shall be said for his 
 soul. Pray that he rest in peace. Farewell. 
 " ' Thomas Grenville, 
 
 M ' Governor of the Castle of Aberystwith for his Majesty 
 King Henry VIII., Defender of the Faith.' " 
 
 All were silent for a moment; some shed 
 tears, and others hid their faces in their robes. 
 A grey-headed monk broke the silence. 
 
 " A sore blow, dear brethren, has indeed 
 this day befallen us ; but for the blessed man 
 weep not, nor can we regret the loss, if, as we 
 fear, the late abbot had rather swerved in his 
 heart from the faith of his fathers, having, with 
 some others of his flock, imbibed lately some 
 tenets of the damnable heresies of Germany. 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY TLAIN. 313 
 
 In these troublous times the abbot's throne 
 must not remain a day untenanted. And 
 who is more fitting to guard the flock from 
 the wolves than Father Cozza? whose sanctity 
 so few of us can equal." 
 
 Those present hailed the choice with ex- 
 clamations. The Italian had risen to address 
 them, when a monk, pale and trembling, 
 rushed in. 
 
 " An armed multitude," he cried, " be- 
 sieges the monastery, headed by one bearing 
 a banner blazoned with the wounds of Christ. 
 They demand audience of the abbot, and 
 refuse to believe his absence." 
 
 " Bid them tarry awhile," said Cozza, with 
 a proud gesture of command that astonished 
 his associates, who had seen in him before 
 only the self-denying ascetic, " till the abbot 
 come forth." 
 
 Then quickly assuming the rich dress of 
 his predecessor, which the obsequious servi- 
 tors brought him, and followed by a train 
 of monks, he hastened to the barred gate, that 
 
314 ICE BOUND. 
 
 now echoed with the thundering blows of 
 the assailants. 
 
 " Burst them open,'' cried a voice, " in the 
 name of the Three Kings, and purge the 
 convent of heretics!" 
 
 " Open not the doors to the vile rabble," 
 said the soldier, scornfully. 
 
 " Throw them wide," said Cozza to the 
 porter, who with trembling hand fumbled at 
 the massive bolts. 
 
 With ferocious cries, like a pack of famished 
 wolves upon a sheepfold, in burst the motley 
 crowd of assailants, who fell back at the sight 
 of the procession that fronted them. 
 
 The leader, a man with the grizzled hair 
 and stern look of an old soldier, bore a 
 halberd in his hand. At his back came a 
 small body of men, whose richly-embroidered 
 doublets and ornamented weapons seemed to 
 indicate a higher rank than their followers, 
 who thronged behind waving rude bills and 
 pikes. Their costume was as various as their 
 arms, for while some wore the plumed hel- 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 315 
 
 mets of knights, others had donned the old 
 hood of a former century, or the flat cap 
 of the citizen of the day. 
 
 The stern look of defiance in the leader's 
 eye changed to friendly greeting as he beheld 
 Cozza. 
 
 " We came, holy father/' he exclaimed, 
 "thinking to find one who loved not our 
 cause as thou dost. From thy hand, then, shall 
 our banner receive consecration, ere we sweep 
 down, like a storm, upon the guilty land." 
 
 Cozza replied not, but, raising a crucifix 
 on high, led the way into the church. Two 
 by two followed the monks, and the rebels 
 thronged after in a tumultuous band. 
 
 The church was a beautiful erection of the 
 decorated period, though here and there a 
 low and massive pillar, with its toothed 
 moulding, spoke of ruder hands and an ear- 
 lier age. Over the gorgeous altar, lustrous 
 with golden chasings and velvet blazonries, 
 the stained windows threw a deeper and a 
 softer radiance. 
 
316 ICE BOUND. 
 
 The music thunder rolling shook 
 The prophets blazoned on their panes, 
 
 As with unfaltering voice and firm hand the 
 murderer elevated the Host above the kneel- 
 ing multitude. There was a moment's silence 
 ere he pronounced the solemn ritual of con- 
 secration. It was broken by a loud footstep 
 — then another. The foremost intruder was a 
 noble, richly clad in the costly furs and sump- 
 tuous robes of the period, who, holding his 
 plumed hat, fastened by a carcanet of rubies, 
 in one hand, and a drawn sword in the other, 
 and disregarding all glances fixed upon him, 
 strode firmly and slowly to the altar. 
 
 The new abbot trembled as he laid his hand 
 softly upon his shoulder. Cozza dropped the 
 wafer ; the golden cup against which he 
 reeled fell, and the red wine streamed over 
 his white robe. 
 
 tl There are stains on thy robe deeper than 
 those of wine," said a harsh voice. It was 
 the soldier, who rose from the crowd. 
 
 " I denounce thee," said the noble, " Fran- 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 317 
 
 cisco Cozza, as a murderer, and as a traitor 
 to thy king ! Guy Beckton, did he not pay 
 thee to bring a forged letter to the chap- 
 ter ? " 
 
 " He did," said the soldier ; " he gave me 
 two angels for the price of blood, which I now 
 fling at the assassin's feet." 
 
 " Bring in the body of the murdered ab- 
 bot," cried the noble, " that it may blast the 
 wretched monk." 
 
 As he spoke, a trampling was heard with- 
 out, and four peasants entered bearing a 
 corpse, covered with a sheet, upon a hand- 
 bier, and placed it before the altar, the kneel- 
 ing men shrinking from its contact. Again 
 cried the noble, and the words pierced the 
 murderer's heart like the sword of the Spirit, 
 u Bid Brother Jerome come before us." 
 
 For the first time Cozza spoke, convul- 
 sively. " No, I defy you — he is dead ! Say, 
 rather, bring in the second bier. Who dares 
 to " 
 
 " Father Jerome is present," cried a figure. 
 
318 ICE BOUND. 
 
 / 
 
 rising from the crowd, throwing off a dark 
 hood that had hidden his face, and stepping 
 beside the bier. 
 
 " Miserable reptile ! " he shouted — " mur- 
 derer ! demon ! for whom hell must frame 
 some novel punishment — some redder cham- 
 ber — Oh, thank thy Saviour, whom thou hast 
 scorned, that thou hast but one victim to 
 accuse thee at God's bright bar, and to shame 
 thee before the fiery seraphim ! It was I who, 
 suspecting the workings of thy black heart, 
 and penetrating the thin veil of thy miserable 
 hypocrisy, followed thee to the terrible abyss, 
 lively image of the terrors of that day of doom 
 to which thou art hastening so fast. Thy 
 dagger scratched my flesh, but pierced not 
 deeper. Seeing me struck to the earth by the 
 shock, thou thoughtest me dead. Ere the sound 
 of thy horse's hoofs had died away in the dis- 
 tance, I had met with the minister of ven- 
 geance whom God had sent — my Lord Crom- 
 well " — the multitude started — " and you 
 see him before you ! " It was the soldier. 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 319 
 
 " Innocent as I am, I trembled when the 
 morning's light showed me this poor man- 
 gled body/' As he spoke, he withdrew the 
 cloth from the face of the corpse. The crowd 
 were hushed into silence at the awful scene, 
 for the monk, standing in all the ardour of his 
 passion, his face lit by the sunlight, and his 
 robe dyed richer than that of princes with the 
 reflection of the painted windows — 
 
 Ridii with the blood of prophets and of kings, 
 
 Fairer than are the tiger-moth's deep damasked wings — 
 
 looked like some avenging angel. Upon the 
 bier were turned the glassy eyes of Cozza. 
 
 " I come here," said Cromwell, assuming at 
 once his natural voice, and treading the rebel 
 flag contemptuously under his feet as he 
 spoke, " in the king's name ! " 
 
 The rebels started at the sound. Some 
 even brandished their arms, others raised 
 faint shouts of " Down with the heretics ! " 
 but they quickly died away. 
 
 " Resistance is in vain," he said ; " a force 
 treble yours, of arquebusiers with lighted 
 
320 ICE BOUND. 
 
 matches, gird round the monastery ; we took 
 care to gather the hounds together ere we 
 pitched the toils. In the name of King 
 Henry, I offer an amnesty to all. I bid you 
 hasten to your homes, and leave those to 
 govern the realm who are fitter for the office 
 than a pack of base hinds and scurvy drudges. 
 Ten bad monks, whose names I have here, shall 
 be furnished with a crown apiece, and shall be 
 sent forth to till the earth ; but to one alone 
 God and man refuse pardon — for him the 
 headsman waits impatiently, and counts the 
 minutes." 
 
 He pointed, as he spoke, sternly to the 
 trembling abbot, who clung helplessly, as if 
 all courage had deserted him, to the altar- 
 cloth. 
 
 " Francisco Cozza, thy crimes are manifold. 
 This is not the first blood that has stained 
 those hands. Eemember Amalfi — but why 
 waste words on such a black monster ? Bro- 
 ther Jerome, esteemed for thy sanctity and the 
 unostentatious virtue of thy life, we appoint 
 
THE MONASTERY OF THE FLOWERY PLAIN. 321 
 
 thee abbot of the monastery of Strata Florida, 
 in the room of Francisco Cozza, condemned 
 to death for a thousand crimes." 
 
 At the hated name of Jerome, Cozza, who 
 had hitherto stood motionless as the corpse on 
 which he gazed, started up, and, cleaving his 
 way through the crowd, drew a short poniard 
 from his sleeve, and aimed a blow at Jerome ; 
 but his intended victim swerving aside, the 
 weapon failed to inflict a wound. Then, forc- 
 ing his way through the multitude, who made 
 a path for him in their terror, Cozza leaped 
 through a door leading to the belfry, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 " Ten gold pieces if he's taken alive ! " said 
 Cromwell. With horrible coolness of prepa- 
 ration, an arquebusier lighted his match at a 
 censer, and, followed by two billmen, hurried 
 in pursuit. It was too late. Ere they could 
 reach him, the murderer, winged by despair, 
 had thrown himself to the paved court below. 
 
 By the order of Cromwell the villain's body, 
 having been for awhile hung upon the topmost 
 
 VOL. I. Y 
 
322 ICE BOUND. 
 
 pinnacle of the tower, was taken down and 
 buried, without mass or requiem, in the or- 
 chard of the monastery. 
 
 "Vengeance is mine; I will repay it, 
 saith the Lord." 
 
 END OF YOL. I. 
 
 R BORN, PRINTER, GLOUCESTER STREET, REGENT'S PARK. 
 
'■■■ 
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 056503318