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Chapter 6

I HAVE lingered thus long on the extreme bank, the wasting shoal that
stretched into the stream of life, dallying with the shadow of death. Thus
long, I have cradled my heart in retrospection of past happiness, when hope
was. Why not for ever thus? I am not immortal; and the thread of my history
might be spun out to the limits of my existence. But the same sentiment
that first led me to pourtray scenes replete with tender recollections, now
bids me hurry on. The same yearning of this warm, panting heart, that has
made me in written words record my vagabond youth, my serene manhood, and
the passions of my soul, makes me now recoil from further delay. I must
complete my work.

Here then I stand, as I said, beside the fleet waters of the flowing years,
and now away! Spread the sail, and strain with oar, hurrying by dark
impending crags, adown steep rapids, even to the sea of desolation I have
reached. Yet one moment, one brief interval before I put from shore--
once, once again let me fancy myself as I was in 2094 in my abode at
Windsor, let me close my eyes, and imagine that the immeasurable boughs of
its oaks still shadow me, its castle walls anear. Let fancy pourtray the
joyous scene of the twentieth of June, such as even now my aching heart
recalls it.

Circumstances had called me to London; here I heard talk that symptoms
of the plague had occurred in hospitals of that city. I returned to
Windsor; my brow was clouded, my heart heavy; I entered the Little
Park, as was my custom, at the Frogmore gate, on my way to the
Castle. A great part of these grounds had been given to cultivation,
and strips of potatoe-land and corn were scattered here and there.
The rooks cawed loudly in the trees above; mixed with their hoarse
cries I heard a lively strain of music. It was Alfred's birthday.
The young people, the Etonians, and children of the neighbouring gentry,
held a mock fair, to which all the country people were invited. The
park was speckled by tents, whose flaunting colours and gaudy flags, waving
in the sunshine, added to the gaiety of the scene. On a platform erected
beneath the terrace, a number of the younger part of the assembly were
dancing. I leaned against a tree to observe them. The band played the wild
eastern air of Weber introduced in Abon Hassan; its volatile notes gave
wings to the feet of the dancers, while the lookers-on unconsciously beat
time. At first the tripping measure lifted my spirit with it, and for a
moment my eyes gladly followed the mazes of the dance. The revulsion of
thought passed like keen steel to my heart. Ye are all going to die, I
thought; already your tomb is built up around you. Awhile, because you are
gifted with agility and strength, you fancy that you live: but frail is the
"bower of flesh" that encaskets life; dissoluble the silver cord than binds
you to it. The joyous soul, charioted from pleasure to pleasure by the
graceful mechanism of well-formed limbs, will suddenly feel the axle-tree
give way, and spring and wheel dissolve in dust. Not one of you, O! fated
crowd, can escape--not one! not my own ones! not my Idris and her babes!
Horror and misery! Already the gay dance vanished, the green sward was
strewn with corpses, the blue air above became fetid with deathly
exhalations. Shriek, ye clarions! ye loud trumpets, howl! Pile dirge on
dirge; rouse the funereal chords; let the air ring with dire wailing; let
wild discord rush on the wings of the wind! Already I hear it, while
guardian angels, attendant on humanity, their task achieved, hasten away,
and their departure is announced by melancholy strains; faces all unseemly
with weeping, forced open my lids; faster and faster many groups of these
woe-begone countenances thronged around, exhibiting every variety of
wretchedness--well known faces mingled with the distorted creations of
fancy. Ashy pale, Raymond and Perdita sat apart, looking on with sad
smiles. Adrian's countenance flitted across, tainted by death--Idris,
with eyes languidly closed and livid lips, was about to slide into the wide
grave. The confusion grew--their looks of sorrow changed to mockery; they
nodded their heads in time to the music, whose clang became maddening.

I felt that this was insanity--I sprang forward to throw it off; I rushed
into the midst of the crowd. Idris saw me: with light step she advanced; as
I folded her in my arms, feeling, as I did, that I thus enclosed what was
to me a world, yet frail as the waterdrop which the noon-day sun will drink
from the water lily's cup; tears filled my eyes, unwont to be thus
moistened. The joyful welcome of my boys, the soft gratulation of Clara,
the pressure of Adrian's hand, contributed to unman me. I felt that they
were near, that they were safe, yet methought this was all deceit;--the
earth reeled, the firm-enrooted trees moved--dizziness came over me--I
sank to the ground.

My beloved friends were alarmed--nay, they expressed their alarm so
anxiously, that I dared not pronounce the word plague, that hovered on my
lips, lest they should construe my perturbed looks into a symptom, and see
infection in my languor. I had scarcely recovered, and with feigned
hilarity had brought back smiles into my little circle, when we saw Ryland
approach.

Ryland had something the appearance of a farmer; of a man whose muscles and
full grown stature had been developed under the influence of vigorous
exercise and exposure to the elements. This was to a great degree the case:
for, though a large landed proprietor, yet, being a projector, and of an
ardent and industrious disposition, he had on his own estate given himself
up to agricultural labours. When he went as ambassador to the Northern
States of America, he, for some time, planned his entire migration; and
went so far as to make several journies far westward on that immense
continent, for the purpose of choosing the site of his new abode. Ambition
turned his thoughts from these designs--ambition, which labouring through
various lets and hindrances, had now led him to the summit of his hopes, in
making him Lord Protector of England.

His countenance was rough but intelligent--his ample brow and quick grey
eyes seemed to look out, over his own plans, and the opposition of his
enemies. His voice was stentorian: his hand stretched out in debate, seemed
by its gigantic and muscular form, to warn his hearers that words were not
his only weapons. Few people had discovered some cowardice and much
infirmity of purpose under this imposing exterior. No man could crush a
"butterfly on the wheel" with better effect; no man better cover a speedy
retreat from a powerful adversary. This had been the secret of his
secession at the time of Lord Raymond's election. In the unsteady glance of
his eye, in his extreme desire to learn the opinions of all, in the
feebleness of his hand-writing, these qualities might be obscurely traced,
but they were not generally known. He was now our Lord Protector. He had
canvassed eagerly for this post. His protectorate was to be distinguished
by every kind of innovation on the aristocracy. This his selected task was
exchanged for the far different one of encountering the ruin caused by the
convulsions of physical nature. He was incapable of meeting these evils by
any comprehensive system; he had resorted to expedient after expedient, and
could never be induced to put a remedy in force, till it came too late to
be of use.

Certainly the Ryland that advanced towards us now, bore small resemblance
to the powerful, ironical, seemingly fearless canvasser for the first rank
among Englishmen. Our native oak, as his partisans called him, was visited
truly by a nipping winter. He scarcely appeared half his usual height; his
joints were unknit, his limbs would not support him; his face was
contracted, his eye wandering; debility of purpose and dastard fear were
expressed in every gesture.

In answer to our eager questions, one word alone fell, as it were
involuntarily, from his convulsed lips: The Plague.--"Where?"--"Every
where--we must fly--all fly--but whither? No man can tell--there is
no refuge on earth, it comes on us like a thousand packs of wolves--we
must all fly--where shall you go? Where can any of us go?"

These words were syllabled trembling by the iron man. Adrian replied,
"Whither indeed would you fly? We must all remain; and do our best to help
our suffering fellow-creatures."

"Help!" said Ryland, "there is no help!--great God, who talks of help!
All the world has the plague!"

"Then to avoid it, we must quit the world," observed Adrian, with a
gentle smile.

Ryland groaned; cold drops stood on his brow. It was useless to oppose his
paroxysm of terror: but we soothed and encouraged him, so that after an
interval he was better able to explain to us the ground of his alarm. It
had come sufficiently home to him. One of his servants, while waiting on
him, had suddenly fallen down dead. The physician declared that he died of
the plague. We endeavoured to calm him--but our own hearts were not calm.
I saw the eye of Idris wander from me to her children, with an anxious
appeal to my judgment. Adrian was absorbed in meditation. For myself, I own
that Ryland's words rang in my ears; all the world was infected;--in what
uncontaminated seclusion could I save my beloved treasures, until the
shadow of death had passed from over the earth? We sunk into silence: a
silence that drank in the doleful accounts and prognostications of our
guest. We had receded from the crowd; and ascending the steps of the
terrace, sought the Castle. Our change of cheer struck those nearest to us;
and, by means of Ryland's servants, the report soon spread that he had fled
from the plague in London. The sprightly parties broke up--they assembled
in whispering groups. The spirit of gaiety was eclipsed; the music ceased;
the young people left their occupations and gathered together. The
lightness of heart which had dressed them in masquerade habits, had
decorated their tents, and assembled them in fantastic groups, appeared a
sin against, and a provocative to, the awful destiny that had laid its
palsying hand upon hope and life. The merriment of the hour was an unholy
mockery of the sorrows of man. The foreigners whom we had among us, who had
fled from the plague in their own country, now saw their last asylum
invaded; and, fear making them garrulous, they described to eager listeners
the miseries they had beheld in cities visited by the calamity, and gave
fearful accounts of the insidious and irremediable nature of the disease.

We had entered the Castle. Idris stood at a window that over-looked the
park; her maternal eyes sought her own children among the young crowd. An
Italian lad had got an audience about him, and with animated gestures was
describing some scene of horror. Alfred stood immoveable before him, his
whole attention absorbed. Little Evelyn had endeavoured to draw Clara away
to play with him; but the Italian's tale arrested her, she crept near, her
lustrous eyes fixed on the speaker. Either watching the crowd in the park,
or occupied by painful reflection, we were all silent; Ryland stood by
himself in an embrasure of the window; Adrian paced the hall, revolving
some new and overpowering idea--suddenly he stopped and said: "I have
long expected this; could we in reason expect that this island should be
exempt from the universal visitation? The evil is come home to us, and we
must not shrink from our fate. What are your plans, my Lord Protector, for
the benefit of our country?"

"For heaven's love! Windsor," cried Ryland, "do not mock me with that
title. Death and disease level all men. I neither pretend to protect nor
govern an hospital--such will England quickly become."

"Do you then intend, now in time of peril, to recede from your duties?"

"Duties! speak rationally, my Lord!--when I am a plague-spotted corpse,
where will my duties be? Every man for himself! the devil take the
protectorship, say I, if it expose me to danger!"

"Faint-hearted man!" cried Adrian indignantly--"Your countrymen put their
trust in you, and you betray them!"

"I betray them!" said Ryland, "the plague betrays me. Faint-hearted! It is
well, shut up in your castle, out of danger, to boast yourself out of fear.
Take the Protectorship who will; before God I renounce it!"

"And before God," replied his opponent, fervently, "do I receive it! No one
will canvass for this honour now--none envy my danger or labours. Deposit
your powers in my hands. Long have I fought with death, and much" (he
stretched out his thin hand) "much have I suffered in the struggle. It is
not by flying, but by facing the enemy, that we can conquer. If my last
combat is now about to be fought, and I am to be worsted--so let it be!"

"But come, Ryland, recollect yourself! Men have hitherto thought you
magnanimous and wise, will you cast aside these titles? Consider the panic
your departure will occasion. Return to London. I will go with you.
Encourage the people by your presence. I will incur all the danger. Shame!
shame! if the first magistrate of England be foremost to renounce his
duties."

Meanwhile among our guests in the park, all thoughts of festivity had
faded. As summer-flies are scattered by rain, so did this congregation,
late noisy and happy, in sadness and melancholy murmurs break up, dwindling
away apace. With the set sun and the deepening twilight the park became
nearly empty. Adrian and Ryland were still in earnest discussion. We had
prepared a banquet for our guests in the lower hall of the castle; and
thither Idris and I repaired to receive and entertain the few that
remained. There is nothing more melancholy than a merry-meeting thus turned
to sorrow: the gala dresses--the decorations, gay as they might otherwise
be, receive a solemn and funereal appearance. If such change be painful
from lighter causes, it weighed with intolerable heaviness from the
knowledge that the earth's desolator had at last, even as an arch-fiend,
lightly over-leaped the boundaries our precautions raised, and at once
enthroned himself in the full and beating heart of our country. Idris sat
at the top of the half-empty hall. Pale and tearful, she almost forgot her
duties as hostess; her eyes were fixed on her children. Alfred's serious
air shewed that he still revolved the tragic story related by the Italian
boy. Evelyn was the only mirthful creature present: he sat on Clara's lap;
and, making matter of glee from his own fancies, laughed aloud. The vaulted
roof echoed again his infant tone. The poor mother who had brooded long
over, and suppressed the expression of her anguish, now burst into tears,
and folding her babe in her arms, hurried from the hall. Clara and Alfred
followed. While the rest of the company, in confused murmur, which grew
louder and louder, gave voice to their many fears.

The younger part gathered round me to ask my advice; and those who had
friends in London were anxious beyond the rest, to ascertain the present
extent of disease in the metropolis. I encouraged them with such thoughts
of cheer as presented themselves. I told them exceedingly few deaths had
yet been occasioned by pestilence, and gave them hopes, as we were the last
visited, so the calamity might have lost its most venomous power before it
had reached us. The cleanliness, habits of order, and the manner in which
our cities were built, were all in our favour. As it was an epidemic, its
chief force was derived from pernicious qualities in the air, and it would
probably do little harm where this was naturally salubrious. At first, I
had spoken only to those nearest me; but the whole assembly gathered about
me, and I found that I was listened to by all. "My friends," I said, "our
risk is common; our precautions and exertions shall be common also. If
manly courage and resistance can save us, we will be saved. We will fight
the enemy to the last. Plague shall not find us a ready prey; we will
dispute every inch of ground; and, by methodical and inflexible laws, pile
invincible barriers to the progress of our foe. Perhaps in no part of the
world has she met with so systematic and determined an opposition. Perhaps
no country is naturally so well protected against our invader; nor has
nature anywhere been so well assisted by the hand of man. We will not
despair. We are neither cowards nor fatalists; but, believing that God has
placed the means for our preservation in our own hands, we will use those
means to our utmost. Remember that cleanliness, sobriety, and even
good-humour and benevolence, are our best medicines."

There was little I could add to this general exhortation; for the plague,
though in London, was not among us. I dismissed the guests therefore; and
they went thoughtful, more than sad, to await the events in store for
them.

I now sought Adrian, anxious to hear the result of his discussion with
Ryland. He had in part prevailed; the Lord Protector consented to return to
London for a few weeks; during which time things should be so arranged, as
to occasion less consternation at his departure. Adrian and Idris were
together. The sadness with which the former had first heard that the plague
was in London had vanished; the energy of his purpose informed his body
with strength, the solemn joy of enthusiasm and self-devotion illuminated
his countenance; and the weakness of his physical nature seemed to pass
from him, as the cloud of humanity did, in the ancient fable, from the
divine lover of Semele. He was endeavouring to encourage his sister, and to
bring her to look on his intent in a less tragic light than she was
prepared to do; and with passionate eloquence he unfolded his designs to
her.

"Let me, at the first word," he said, "relieve your mind from all fear on
my account. I will not task myself beyond my powers, nor will I needlessly
seek danger. I feel that I know what ought to be done, and as my presence
is necessary for the accomplishment of my plans, I will take especial care
to preserve my life.

"I am now going to undertake an office fitted for me. I cannot intrigue, or
work a tortuous path through the labyrinth of men's vices and passions; but
I can bring patience, and sympathy, and such aid as art affords, to the bed
of disease; I can raise from earth the miserable orphan, and awaken to new
hopes the shut heart of the mourner. I can enchain the plague in limits,
and set a term to the misery it would occasion; courage, forbearance, and
watchfulness, are the forces I bring towards this great work.

"O, I shall be something now! From my birth I have aspired like the eagle
--but, unlike the eagle, my wings have failed, and my vision has been
blinded. Disappointment and sickness have hitherto held dominion over me;
twin born with me, my would, was for ever enchained by the shall not, of
these my tyrants. A shepherd-boy that tends a silly flock on the mountains,
was more in the scale of society than I. Congratulate me then that I have
found fitting scope for my powers. I have often thought of offering my
services to the pestilence-stricken towns of France and Italy; but fear of
paining you, and expectation of this catastrophe, withheld me. To England
and to Englishmen I dedicate myself. If I can save one of her mighty
spirits from the deadly shaft; if I can ward disease from one of her
smiling cottages, I shall not have lived in vain."

Strange ambition this! Yet such was Adrian. He appeared given up to
contemplation, averse to excitement, a lowly student, a man of visions--
but afford him worthy theme, and--

Like to the lark at break of day arising,
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate.[1]

so did he spring up from listlessness and unproductive thought, to the
highest pitch of virtuous action.

With him went enthusiasm, the high-wrought resolve, the eye that without
blenching could look at death. With us remained sorrow, anxiety, and
unendurable expectation of evil. The man, says Lord Bacon, who hath wife
and children, has given hostages to fortune. Vain was all philosophical
reasoning--vain all fortitude--vain, vain, a reliance on probable good.
I might heap high the scale with logic, courage, and resignation--but let
one fear for Idris and our children enter the opposite one, and,
over-weighed, it kicked the beam.

The plague was in London! Fools that we were not long ago to have foreseen
this. We wept over the ruin of the boundless continents of the east, and
the desolation of the western world; while we fancied that the little
channel between our island and the rest of the earth was to preserve us
alive among the dead. It were no mighty leap methinks from Calais to Dover.
The eye easily discerns the sister land; they were united once; and the
little path that runs between looks in a map but as a trodden footway
through high grass. Yet this small interval was to save us: the sea was to
rise a wall of adamant--without, disease and misery--within, a shelter
from evil, a nook of the garden of paradise--a particle of celestial
soil, which no evil could invade--truly we were wise in our generation,
to imagine all these things!

But we are awake now. The plague is in London; the air of England is
tainted, and her sons and daughters strew the unwholesome earth. And now,
the sea, late our defence, seems our prison bound; hemmed in by its gulphs,
we shall die like the famished inhabitants of a besieged town. Other
nations have a fellowship in death; but we, shut out from all
neighbourhood, must bury our own dead, and little England become a wide,
wide tomb.

This feeling of universal misery assumed concentration and shape, when I
looked on my wife and children; and the thought of danger to them possessed
my whole being with fear. How could I save them? I revolved a thousand and
a thousand plans. They should not die--first I would be gathered to
nothingness, ere infection should come anear these idols of my soul. I
would walk barefoot through the world, to find an uninfected spot; I would
build my home on some wave-tossed plank, drifted about on the barren,
shoreless ocean. I would betake me with them to some wild beast's den,
where a tyger's cubs, which I would slay, had been reared in health. I
would seek the mountain eagle's eirie, and live years suspended in some
inaccessible recess of a sea-bounding cliff--no labour too great, no
scheme too wild, if it promised life to them. O! ye heart-strings of mine,
could ye be torn asunder, and my soul not spend itself in tears of blood
for sorrow!

Idris, after the first shock, regained a portion of fortitude. She
studiously shut out all prospect of the future, and cradled her heart in
present blessings. She never for a moment lost sight of her children. But
while they in health sported about her, she could cherish contentment and
hope. A strange and wild restlessness came over me--the more intolerable,
because I was forced to conceal it. My fears for Adrian were ceaseless;
August had come; and the symptoms of plague encreased rapidly in London. It
was deserted by all who possessed the power of removing; and he, the
brother of my soul, was exposed to the perils from which all but slaves
enchained by circumstance fled. He remained to combat the fiend--his side
unguarded, his toils unshared--infection might even reach him, and he die
unattended and alone. By day and night these thoughts pursued me. I
resolved to visit London, to see him; to quiet these agonizing throes by
the sweet medicine of hope, or the opiate of despair.

It was not until I arrived at Brentford, that I perceived much change in
the face of the country. The better sort of houses were shut up; the busy
trade of the town palsied; there was an air of anxiety among the few
passengers I met, and they looked wonderingly at my carriage--the first
they had seen pass towards London, since pestilence sat on its high places,
and possessed its busy streets. I met several funerals; they were slenderly
attended by mourners, and were regarded by the spectators as omens of
direst import. Some gazed on these processions with wild eagerness--
others fled timidly--some wept aloud.

Adrian's chief endeavour, after the immediate succour of the sick, had been
to disguise the symptoms and progress of the plague from the inhabitants of
London. He knew that fear and melancholy forebodings were powerful
assistants to disease; that desponding and brooding care rendered the
physical nature of man peculiarly susceptible of infection. No unseemly
sights were therefore discernible: the shops were in general open, the
concourse of passengers in some degree kept up. But although the appearance
of an infected town was avoided, to me, who had not beheld it since the
commencement of the visitation, London appeared sufficiently changed. There
were no carriages, and grass had sprung high in the streets; the houses had
a desolate look; most of the shutters were closed; and there was a ghast
and frightened stare in the persons I met, very different from the usual
business-like demeanour of the Londoners. My solitary carriage attracted
notice, as it rattled along towards the Protectoral Palace--and the
fashionable streets leading to it wore a still more dreary and deserted
appearance. I found Adrian's anti-chamber crowded--it was his hour for
giving audience. I was unwilling to disturb his labours, and waited,
watching the ingress and egress of the petitioners. They consisted of
people of the middling and lower classes of society, whose means of
subsistence failed with the cessation of trade, and of the busy spirit of
money-making in all its branches, peculiar to our country. There was an air
of anxiety, sometimes of terror in the new-comers, strongly contrasted with
the resigned and even satisfied mien of those who had had audience. I could
read the influence of my friend in their quickened motions and cheerful
faces. Two o'clock struck, after which none were admitted; those who had
been disappointed went sullenly or sorrowfully away, while I entered the
audience-chamber.

I was struck by the improvement that appeared in the health of Adrian. He
was no longer bent to the ground, like an over-nursed flower of spring,
that, shooting up beyond its strength, is weighed down even by its own
coronal of blossoms. His eyes were bright, his countenance composed, an air
of concentrated energy was diffused over his whole person, much unlike its
former languor. He sat at a table with several secretaries, who were
arranging petitions, or registering the notes made during that day's
audience. Two or three petitioners were still in attendance. I admired his
justice and patience. Those who possessed a power of living out of London,
he advised immediately to quit it, affording them the means of so doing.
Others, whose trade was beneficial to the city, or who possessed no other
refuge, he provided with advice for better avoiding the epidemic; relieving
overloaded families, supplying the gaps made in others by death. Order,
comfort, and even health, rose under his influence, as from the touch of a
magician's wand.

"I am glad you are come," he said to me, when we were at last alone; "I can
only spare a few minutes, and must tell you much in that time. The plague
is now in progress--it is useless closing one's eyes to the fact--the
deaths encrease each week. What will come I cannot guess. As yet, thank
God, I am equal to the government of the town; and I look only to the
present. Ryland, whom I have so long detained, has stipulated that I shall
suffer him to depart before the end of this month. The deputy appointed by
parliament is dead; another therefore must be named; I have advanced my
claim, and I believe that I shall have no competitor. To-night the question
is to be decided, as there is a call of the house for the purpose. You must
nominate me, Lionel; Ryland, for shame, cannot shew himself; but you, my
friend, will do me this service?

How lovely is devotion! Here was a youth, royally sprung, bred in
luxury, by nature averse to the usual struggles of a public life,
and now, in time of danger, at a period when to live was the
utmost scope of the ambitious, he, the beloved and heroic Adrian, made, in
sweet simplicity, an offer to sacrifice himself for the public good. The
very idea was generous and noble,--but, beyond this, his unpretending
manner, his entire want of the assumption of a virtue, rendered his act ten
times more touching. I would have withstood his request; but I had seen the
good he diffused; I felt that his resolves were not to be shaken, so, with
an heavy heart, I consented to do as he asked. He grasped my hand
affectionately:--"Thank you," he said, "you have relieved me from a
painful dilemma, and are, as you ever were, the best of my friends.
Farewell--I must now leave you for a few hours. Go you and converse with
Ryland. Although he deserts his post in London, he may be of the greatest
service in the north of England, by receiving and assisting travellers, and
contributing to supply the metropolis with food. Awaken him, I entreat you,
to some sense of duty."

Adrian left me, as I afterwards learnt, upon his daily task of visiting the
hospitals, and inspecting the crowded parts of London. I found Ryland much
altered, even from what he had been when he visited Windsor. Perpetual fear
had jaundiced his complexion, and shrivelled his whole person. I told him
of the business of the evening, and a smile relaxed the contracted muscles.
He desired to go; each day he expected to be infected by pestilence, each
day he was unable to resist the gentle violence of Adrian's detention. The
moment Adrian should be legally elected his deputy, he would escape to
safety. Under this impression he listened to all I said; and, elevated
almost to joy by the near prospect of his departure, he entered into a
discussion concerning the plans he should adopt in his own county,
forgetting, for the moment, his cherished resolution of shutting himself up
from all communication in the mansion and grounds of his estate.

In the evening, Adrian and I proceeded to Westminster. As we went he
reminded me of what I was to say and do, yet, strange to say, I entered the
chamber without having once reflected on my purpose. Adrian remained in the
coffee-room, while I, in compliance with his desire, took my seat in St.
Stephen's. There reigned unusual silence in the chamber. I had not visited
it since Raymond's protectorate; a period conspicuous for a numerous
attendance of members, for the eloquence of the speakers, and the warmth of
the debate. The benches were very empty, those by custom occupied by the
hereditary members were vacant; the city members were there--the members
for the commercial towns, few landed proprietors, and not many of those who
entered parliament for the sake of a career. The first subject that
occupied the attention of the house was an address from the Lord Protector,
praying them to appoint a deputy during a necessary absence on his part.

A silence prevailed, till one of the members coming to me, whispered that
the Earl of Windsor had sent him word that I was to move his election, in
the absence of the person who had been first chosen for this office. Now
for the first time I saw the full extent of my task, and I was overwhelmed
by what I had brought on myself. Ryland had deserted his post through fear
of the plague: from the same fear Adrian had no competitor. And I, the
nearest kinsman of the Earl of Windsor, was to propose his election. I was
to thrust this selected and matchless friend into the post of danger--
impossible! the die was cast--I would offer myself as candidate.

The few members who were present, had come more for the sake of terminating
the business by securing a legal attendance, than under the idea of a
debate. I had risen mechanically--my knees trembled; irresolution hung on
my voice, as I uttered a few words on the necessity of choosing a person
adequate to the dangerous task in hand. But, when the idea of presenting
myself in the room of my friend intruded, the load of doubt and pain was
taken from off me. My words flowed spontaneously--my utterance was firm
and quick. I adverted to what Adrian had already done--I promised the
same vigilance in furthering all his views. I drew a touching picture of
his vacillating health; I boasted of my own strength. I prayed them to save
even from himself this scion of the noblest family in England. My alliance
with him was the pledge of my sincerity, my union with his sister, my
children, his presumptive heirs, were the hostages of my truth.

This unexpected turn in the debate was quickly communicated to Adrian. He
hurried in, and witnessed the termination of my impassioned harangue. I did
not see him: my soul was in my words,--my eyes could not perceive that
which was; while a vision of Adrian's form, tainted by pestilence, and
sinking in death, floated before them. He seized my hand, as I concluded--
"Unkind!" he cried, "you have betrayed me!" then, springing forwards, with
the air of one who had a right to command, he claimed the place of deputy
as his own. He had bought it, he said, with danger, and paid for it with
toil. His ambition rested there; and, after an interval devoted to the
interests of his country, was I to step in, and reap the profit? Let them
remember what London had been when he arrived: the panic that prevailed
brought famine, while every moral and legal tie was loosened. He had
restored order--this had been a work which required perseverance,
patience, and energy; and he had neither slept nor waked but for the good
of his country.--Would they dare wrong him thus? Would they wrest his
hard-earned reward from him, to bestow it on one, who, never having mingled
in public life, would come a tyro to the craft, in which he was an adept.
He demanded the place of deputy as his right. Ryland had shewn that he
preferred him. Never before had he, who was born even to the inheritance of
the throne of England, never had he asked favour or honour from those now
his equals, but who might have been his subjects. Would they refuse him?
Could they thrust back from the path of distinction and laudable ambition,
the heir of their ancient kings, and heap another disappointment on a
fallen house.

No one had ever before heard Adrian allude to the rights of his ancestors.
None had ever before suspected, that power, or the suffrage of the many,
could in any manner become dear to him. He had begun his speech with
vehemence; he ended with unassuming gentleness, making his appeal with the
same humility, as if he had asked to be the first in wealth, honour, and
power among Englishmen, and not, as was the truth, to be the foremost in
the ranks of loathsome toils and inevitable death. A murmur of approbation
rose after his speech. "Oh, do not listen to him," I cried, "he speaks
false--false to himself,"--I was interrupted: and, silence being restored,
we were ordered, as was the custom, to retire during the decision of the
house. I fancied that they hesitated, and that there was some hope for
me--I was mistaken--hardly had we quitted the chamber, before Adrian was
recalled, and installed in his office of Lord Deputy to the Protector.

We returned together to the palace. "Why, Lionel," said Adrian, "what did
you intend? you could not hope to conquer, and yet you gave me the pain of
a triumph over my dearest friend."

"This is mockery," I replied, "you devote yourself,--you, the adored
brother of Idris, the being, of all the world contains, dearest to our
hearts--you devote yourself to an early death. I would have prevented
this; my death would be a small evil--or rather I should not die; while
you cannot hope to escape."

"As to the likelihood of escaping," said Adrian, "ten years hence the
cold stars may shine on the graves of all of us; but as to my peculiar
liability to infection, I could easily prove, both logically and
physically, that in the midst of contagion I have a better chance
of life than you.

"This is my post: I was born for this--to rule England in anarchy, to
save her in danger--to devote myself for her. The blood of my forefathers
cries aloud in my veins, and bids me be first among my countrymen. Or, if
this mode of speech offend you, let me say, that my mother, the proud
queen, instilled early into me a love of distinction, and all that, if the
weakness of my physical nature and my peculiar opinions had not prevented
such a design, might have made me long since struggle for the lost
inheritance of my race. But now my mother, or, if you will, my mother's
lessons, awaken within me. I cannot lead on to battle; I cannot, through
intrigue and faithlessness rear again the throne upon the wreck of English
public spirit. But I can be the first to support and guard my country, now
that terrific disasters and ruin have laid strong hands upon her.

"That country and my beloved sister are all I have. I will protect the
first--the latter I commit to your charge. If I survive, and she be lost,
I were far better dead. Preserve her--for her own sake I know that you
will--if you require any other spur, think that, in preserving her, you
preserve me. Her faultless nature, one sum of perfections, is wrapt up in
her affections--if they were hurt, she would droop like an unwatered
floweret, and the slightest injury they receive is a nipping frost to her.
Already she fears for us. She fears for the children she adores, and for
you, the father of these, her lover, husband, protector; and you must be
near her to support and encourage her. Return to Windsor then, my brother;
for such you are by every tie--fill the double place my absence imposes
on you, and let me, in all my sufferings here, turn my eyes towards that
dear seclusion, and say--There is peace."

[1] Shakespeare's Sonnets.

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