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THUS sad and disarranged were the thoughts of my
poor sister, when she became assured of the infidelity of Raymond. All her
virtues and all her defects tended to make the blow incurable. Her affection
for me, her brother, for Adrian and Idris, was subject as it were to the
reigning passion of her heart; even her maternal tenderness borrowed half
its force from the delight she had in tracing Raymond's features and
expression in the infant's countenance. She had been reserved and even stern
in childhood; but love had softened the asperities of her character, and her
union with Ray-
We, in our retirement, remained long in ignorance of her misfortune. Soon
after the festival she had sent for her child, and then she seemed to have
forgotten us. Adrian observed a change during a visit that he afterward paid
them; but he could not tell its extent, or divine the cause. They still
appeared in public together, and lived under the same roof. Ray-
It was May before they arrived: the season
Soon after, Raymond arrived. He did not join as usual in the playful spirit of the rest; but, entering into conversation with Adrian and myself, by degrees we seceded from our companions, and Idris and Perdita only remained with the children. Raymond talked of his new buildings; of his plan for an establishment for the better education of the poor; as usual Adrian and he entered into argument, and the time slipped away unperceived.
We assembled again towards evening, and Perdita insisted on our having
recourse to music. She wanted, she said, to give us a specimen of her new
accomplishment; for since she had been in London, she had applied herself to
Music in
Among critics of Mary Shelley, Jean de Palacio has most thoroughly examined the importance of music in the novel, beginning with the role of Vincent Novello's music organ music in inspiring its composition.
Within the narrative, Lionel Verney claims musical inspiration for his own writing (I.10), and implicitly, therefore, for the narrative we are reading. In addition, allusions to composers and works form a kind of imaginary score for the action. As Palacio charts it (p. 329), we move from simple melodies and songs at Windsor (I.6), to the more sophisticated operas of Mozart--
"Taci, ingiusto core!"
"Ah, be still, unreasonable
heart! Do not pound in my breast! he is a wicked man, he
is a betrayer, it is wrong to have pity . . . ."
[Mozart's
("God of love, I now implore thee, / Broken-hearted to thee I sigh. / Love that once was mine restore me, / Or in mercy let me die."; Mozart's
I endeavoured to console her; I did not question her! but I caressed her,
assured her of my deepest affection and my intense interest in the changes
of her fortune:--"Dear words," she cried, "expressions of love come upon my
ear, like the remembered sounds of forgotten music, that had been dear to
me. They are vain, I know; how very vain in their attempt to soothe or
comfort me. Dearest Lionel, you cannot guess what I have suffered during
these long months. I have read of mourners in ancient days, who clothed
themselves in sackcloth, scattered dust upon their heads, ate their bread
mingled with ashes, and took up their abode on the bleak mountain tops,
reproaching heaven and earth aloud with their misfortunes. Why this is the
very luxury of sorrow! thus one might go on from day to day contriving new
extravagances, revelling in the
The tears and agitation of my poor sister had rendered her unfit to return to the circle we had left--so I persuaded her to let me drive her through the park; and, during the ride, I induced her to confide the tale of her unhappiness to me, fancying that talking of it would lighten the burthen, and certain that, if there were a remedy, it should be found and secured to her.
Several weeks had elapsed since the festival of the anniversary, and she had
been unable to calm her mind, or to subdue her thoughts to any regular
train. Sometimes she reproached herself for taking too bitterly to heart,
that which
"Read this letter with patience, I entreat you. It will contain no reproaches. Reproach is indeed an idle word: for what should I reproach you?
"Allow me in some degree to explain my feeling; without that, we shall both
grope in the dark, mistaking one another; erring from
"I loved you--I love you--neither anger nor pride dictates these lines; but a feeling beyond, deeper, and more unalterable than either. My affections are wounded; it is impossible to heal them:--cease then the vain endeavour, if indeed that way your endeavours tend. Forgiveness! Return! Idle words are these! I forgive the pain I endure; but the trodden path cannot be retraced.
"Common affection might have been satisfied with common usages. I believed
that you read my heart, and knew its devotion, its unalienable fidelity
towards you. I never loved any but you. You came the embodied image of my
fondest dreams. The praise of men, power and high aspirations attended your
career. Love for you invested the world for me in enchanted light; it was no
longer the earth I trod--the earth,
"For O, you stood beside me..." and "The bloom has vanished from my life"
(both from Coleridge's transl. of Schiller's
'The bloom has vanished from my life'-- "For O, you stood beside me..." and "The bloom has
vanished from my life" (both from Coleridge's transl. of
Schiller's
"Ah, Raymond, were we not happy? Did the sun shine on any, who could enjoy
its light with purer and more intense bliss? It was not--
"And now I do not fear death. I should be well pleased to close my eyes,
never more to open them again. And yet I fear it; even as I fear all things;
for in any state of being linked by the chain of memory with this, happiness
would not return--even in Paradise,
No--no--me miserable; for love extinct there is no resurrection!
"Yet I love you. Yet, and for ever, would I contribute all I possess to your welfare. On account of a tattling world; for the sake of my--of our child, I would remain by you, Raymond, share your fortunes, partake your counsel. Shall it be thus? We are no longer lovers; nor can I call myself a friend to any; since, lost as I am, I have no thought to spare from my own wretched, engrossing self. But it will please me to see you each day! to listen to the public voice praising you; to keep up your paternal love for our girl; to hear your voice; to know that I am near you, though you are no longer mine.
"If you wish to break the chains that bind us, say the word, and it shall be done--I will take all the blame on myself, of harshness or unkindness, in the world's eye.
"Yet, as I have said, I should be best pleased, at least for the present, to
live under the same roof with you. When the fever of my young life is spent;
when placid age shall tame the vulture that devours me, friendship may come,
love and hope being dead. May this be true? Can my soul, inextricably linked
to this perishable frame, become lethargic and cold, even as this sensitive
mechanism shall lose
"PERDITA."
Raymond's answer was brief. What indeed
"Raymond has prophesied well," said Perdita, "alas, that it should be so! our
present mode of life cannot continue long, yet I will not be the first to
propose alteration. He beholds in me one whom he has injured even unto
death; and I derive no hope from his kindness; no change can possibly be
brought about even by his best intentions. As well might Cleopatra
I own that I did not see her misfortune with the same eyes as Perdita. At all
events methought that the wound could be healed; and, if they remained
together, it would be so. I endeavoured therefore to sooth and soften her
mind; and it was not until after many endeavours that I gave up the task as
impracticable. Perdita listened to me impatiently, and answered with some
asperity:--"Do you think that any of your arguments are new to me? or that
my own burning wishes and intense anguish have not suggested them all a
thousand times, with far more eagerness and subtlety than you can put into
them? Lionel, you cannot understand what woman's love is. In days of
happiness I have often repeated to myself, with a grateful heart and
exulting spirit, all that Raymond sacrificed for me. I was a poor,
uneducated, unbefriended, mountain girl, raised
Thus passionately Perdita ran on. When I adverted to the question of their entire separation, she replied: "Be it so! One day the period will arrive; I know it, and feel it. But in this I am a coward. This imperfect companionship, and our masquerade of union, are strangely dear to me. It is painful, I allow, destructive, impracticable. It keeps up a perpetual fever in my veins; it frets my immedicable wound; it is instinct with poison. Yet I must cling to it; perhaps it will kill me soon, and thus perform a thankful office."
In the mean time, Raymond had remained
All these circumstances were now related to Adrian and Idris. Raymond then
lamented the cureless evil of his situation with Perdita. He declared,
notwithstanding her harshness, he even called it coldness, that he loved
her. He had been ready once with the humility of a penitent, and the duty of
a vassal, to surrender himself to her; giving up his very soul to her
tutelage, to become her pupil, her slave, her bondsman. She had rejected
these advances; and the time for such exuberant submission, which must be
founded on love and nourished by it, was now passed. Still all his wishes
and endeavours were directed towards her peace, and his chief discomfort
arose from the perception that he exerted himself in vain. If she were
After a discussion on this subject, which lasted for several hours, he took
leave of his friends, and returned to town, unwilling to meet Perdita before
us, conscious, as we all must be, of the thoughts uppermost in the minds of
both. Perdita prepared to follow him with her child. Idris endeavoured to
persuade her to remain. My poor sister looked at the counsellor with
affright. She knew that Raymond had conversed with her; had he instigated
this request?--was this to be the prelude to
The scenes that followed, convinced her that she had not yet fathomed the obscure gulph into which she had plunged. Her unhappiness assumed every day a new shape; every day some unexpected event seemed to close, while in fact it led onward, the train of calamities which now befell her.
The selected passion of the soul of Raymond was ambition. Readiness of
talent, a capacity of entering into, and leading the dispositions of men;
earnest desire of distinction were the
Debasement of character is the certain follower of such pursuits. Yet this
consequence would
Perdita beheld with affright the encreasing disorder. For a moment she
thought that she could stem the torrent, and that Raymond could be induced
to hear reason from her.--Vain hope! The moment of her influence was passed.
He listened with haughtiness, replied disdainfully; and, if in truth, she
succeeded in awakening his conscience, the sole effect was that he sought an
opiate for the pang in oblivious riot. With the
Reports of these strange proceedings reached us, and we were undecided what
method to adopt to restore our friend to himself and his country, when
Perdita suddenly appeared among us. She detailed the progress of the
mournful change, and entreated Adrian and myself to go up to London, and
endeavour to remedy the encreasing evil:--"Tell him," she cried, "tell Lord
Raymond, that my presence shall no longer annoy him. That he need not plunge
into this destructive dissipation for the sake of disgusting me, and causing
me to fly. This purpose is now accomplished; he will never see me more. But
let me, it is my last entreaty, let me in the
During our ride up to town, Adrian and I discussed and argued upon Raymond's
conduct, and his falling off from the hopes of permanent excellence on his
part, which he had before given us cause to entertain. My friend and I had
both been educated in one school, or rather I was his pupil in the opinion,
that steady adherence to principle was the only road to honour; a ceaseless
observance of the laws of general utility, the only conscientious aim of
human ambition. But though we both entertained these ideas, we differed in
their application. Resentment added also a sting to my censure; and I
reprobated Raymond's conduct in severe terms. Adrian was more benign, more
considerate. He admitted that the principles that I laid down were the best;
but he denied that they were the only ones. Quoting the text,
We arrived in London at about eleven at night. We conjectured, notwithstanding what we had heard, that we should find Raymond in St. Stephen's: thither we sped. The chamber was full--but there was no Protector; and there was an austere discontent manifest on the countenances of the leaders, and a whispering and busy tattle among the underlings, not less ominous. We hastened to the palace of the Protectorate. We found Raymond in his dining room with six others: the bottle was being pushed about merrily, and had made considerable inroads on the understanding of one or two. He who sat near Raymond was telling a story, which convulsed the rest with laughter.
Raymond sat among them, though while he entered into the spirit of the hour,
his natural dignity never forsook him. He was gay, playful, fascinating--but
never did he overstep the
This action of Adrian provoked me. I was indignant that he should sit at the
same table with the companions of Raymond--men of abandoned characters, or
rather without any, the refuse of high-bred luxury, the disgrace of their
country. "Let me entreat Adrian," I cried, "not to comply: rather join with
me
"My good fellow," said Raymond, "this is neither the time nor place for the
delivery of a moral lecture: take my word for it that my amusements and
society are not so bad as you imagine. We are neither hypocrites or
fools--for the rest, 'Dost thou think because thou art virtuous, there shall
be no more cakes and ale?'"
I turned angrily away: "Verney," said Adrian, "you are very cynical: sit down; or if you will not, perhaps, as you are not a frequent visitor, Lord Raymond will humour you, and accompany us, as we had previously agreed upon, to parliament."
Raymond looked keenly at him; he could read benignity only in his gentle
lineaments; he turned to me, observing with scorn my moody and stern
demeanour. "Come," said Adrian, "I have promised for you, enable me to
keep
The party in the mean time had broken up. They looked at the pictures, strolled into the other apartments, talked of billiards, and one by one vanished. Raymond strode angrily up and down the room. I stood ready to receive and reply to his reproaches. Adrian leaned against the wall. "This is infinitely ridiculous," he cried, "if you were school-boys, you could not conduct yourselves more unreasonably."
"You do not understand," said Raymond. "This is only part of a system:--a
scheme of tyranny to which I will never submit. Because I am Protector of
England, am I to be the only slave in its empire? My privacy invaded, my
actions censured, my friends insulted? But I will get rid of the whole
together.--Be you witnesses," and he took the star, insignia of office, from
his breast, and threw it on the table.
"Let him assume it," exclaimed Adrian, "who can pronounce himself, or whom the world will pronounce to be your superior. There does not exist the man in England with adequate presumption. Know yourself, Raymond, and your indignation will cease; your complacency return. A few months ago, whenever we prayed for the prosperity of our country, or our own, we at the same time prayed for the life and welfare of the Protector, as indissolubly linked to it. Your hours were devoted to our benefit, your ambition was to obtain our commendation. You decorated our towns with edifices, you bestowed on us useful establishments, you gifted the soil with abundant fertility. The powerful and unjust cowered at the steps of your judgment-seat, and the poor and oppressed arose like morn-awakened flowers under the sunshine of your protection.
"Can you wonder that we are all aghast and mourn, when this appears changed? But, come, this splenetic fit is already passed; resume your functions; your partizans will hail you; your enemies be silenced; our love, honour, and duty will again be manifested towards you. Master yourself, Raymond, and the world is subject to you."
"All this would be very good sense, if addressed to another," replied
Raymond, moodily, "con the lesson yourself, and you, the first peer of the
land, may become its sovereign. You the good, the wise, the just, may rule
all hearts. But I perceive, too soon for my own happiness, too late for
England's good, that I undertook a task to which I am unequal. I cannot rule
myself. My passions are my masters; my smallest impulse my tyrant. Do you
think that I renounced the Protectorate (and I have renounced it) in a fit
of spleen? By the God that lives, I swear never to take up that bauble
"Once I desired to be a king. It was in the hey-day of youth, in the pride of boyish folly. I knew myself when I renounced it. I renounced it to gain--no matter what--for that also I have lost. For many months I have submitted to this mock majesty--this solemn jest. I am its dupe no longer. I will be free.
"I have lost that which adorned and dignified my life; that which linked me
to other men. Again I am a solitary man; and I will become again, as in my
early years, a wanderer, a soldier of fortune. My friends, for Verney, I
feel that you are my friend, do not endeavour to shake my resolve. Perdita,
wedded to an imagination, careless of what is behind the veil, whose
charactery is in truth faulty and vile, Perdita has renounced me. With her
it was pretty enough to play a sovereign's part; and, as in the recesses of
your beloved forest we
"Adrian, I am about to return to Greece, to become again a soldier, perhaps a conqueror. Will you accompany me? You will behold new scenes; see a new people; witness the mighty struggle there going forward between civilization and barbarism; behold, and perhaps direct the efforts of a young and vigorous population, for liberty and order. Come with me. I have expected you. I waited for this moment; all is prepared;--will you accompany me?"
"I will," replied Adrian.
"Immediately?"
"To-morrow if you will."
"Reflect!" I cried.
"Wherefore?" asked Raymond--"My dear fellow, I have done nothing else than reflect on this step the live-long summer; and be assured that Adrian has condensed an age of reflection into this little moment. Do not talk of reflection; from this moment I abjure it; this is my only happy moment during a long interval of time. I must go, Lionel--the Gods will it; and I must. Do not endeavour to deprive me of my companion, the out-cast's friend.
"One word more concerning unkind, unjust Perdita. For a time, I thought that,
by watching a complying moment, fostering the still warm ashes, I might
relume in her the flame of love. It is more cold within her, than a fire
left by gypsies in winter-time, the spent embers crowned by a pyramid of
snow. Then, in endeavouring to do violence to my own disposition, I made all
worse than before. Still I think,