While he read,
Or mused, his sword was haunted by his touch
Continually, like an uneasy place
In his own body. 'Twas in truth an hour
Of universal ferment – mildest men
Were agitated, and commotions, strife
Of passion and opinion, filled the walls
Of peaceful houses with unquiet sounds.
The soil of common life was at that time
Too hot to tread upon. Oft said I then,
And not then only, »What a mockery this
Of history, the past and that to come!
Now do I feel how I have been deceived,
Reading of nations and their works in faith –
Faith given to vanity and emptiness –
Oh, laughter for the page that would reflect
To future times the face of what now is!«
The land all swarmed with passion, like a plain
Devoured by locusts – Carra, Gorsas – add
A hundred other names, forgotten now,
Nor to be heard of more; yet were they powers,
Like earthquakes, shocks repeated day by day,
And felt through every nook of town and field.
The men already spoken of as chief
Of my associates were prepared for flight
To augment the band of emigrants in arms
Upon the borders of the Rhine, and leagued
With foreign foes mustered for instant war.
This was their undisguised intent, and they
Were waiting with the whole of their desires
The moment to depart. An Englishman,
Born in a land the name of which appeared
To licence some unruliness of mind,
A stranger, with youth's further privilege,
And that indulgence which a half-learned speech
Wins from the courteous, I – who had been else
Shunned and not tolerated – freely lived
With these defenders of the crown, and talked,
And heard their notions; nor did they disdain
The wish to bring me over to their cause.
But though untaught by thinking or by books
To reason well of polity or law,
And nice distinctions – then on every tongue –
Of natural rights and civil, and to acts
Of nations, and their passing interests
(I speak comparing these with other things)
Almost indifferent, even the historian's tale
Prizing but little otherwise than I prized
Tales of the poets – as it made my heart
Beat high and filled my fancy with fair forms,
Old heroes and their sufferings and their deeds –
Yet in the regal sceptre, and the pomp
Of orders and degrees, I nothing found
Then, or had ever even in crudest youth,
That dazzled me, but rather what my soul
Mourned for, or loathed, beholding that the best
Ruled not, and feeling that they ought to rule.
For, born in a poor district, and which yet
Retaineth more of ancient homeliness,
Manners erect, and frank simplicity,
Than any other nook of English land,
It was my fortune scarcely to have seen
Through the whole tenor of my schoolday time
The face of one, who, whether boy or man,
Was vested with attention or respect
Through claims of wealth or blood. Nor was it least
Of many debts which afterwards I owed
To Cambridge and an academic life,
That something there was holden up to view
Of a republic, where all stood thus far
Upon equal ground, that they were brothers all
In honour, as of one community –
Scholars and gentlemen – where, furthermore,
Distinction lay open to all that came,
And wealth and titles were in less esteem
Than talents and successful industry.
Add unto this, subservience from the first
To God and Nature's single sovereignty
(Familiar presences of awful power),
And fellowship with venerable books
To sanction the proud workings of the soul,
And mountain liberty. It could not be
But that one tutored thus, who had been formed
To thought and moral feeling in the way
This story hath described, should look with awe
Upon the faculties of man, receive
Gladly the highest promises, and hail
As best the government of equal rights
And individual worth. And hence, O friend,
If at the first great outbreak I rejoiced
Less than might well befit my youth, the cause
In part lay here, that unto me the events
Seemed nothing out of nature's certain course –
A gift that rather was come late than soon.
No wonder then if advocates like these
Whom I have mentioned, at this riper day
Were impotent to make my hopes put on
The shape of theirs, my understanding bend
In honour to their honour. Zeal which yet
Had slumbered, now in opposition burst
Forth like a Polar summer. Every word
They uttered was a dart by counter-winds
Blown back upon themselves; their reason seemed
Confusion-stricken by a higher power
Than human understanding, their discourse
Maimed, spiritless – and, in their weakness strong,
I triumphed.
Meantime day by day the roads,
While I consorted with these royalists,
Were crowded with the bravest youth of France
And all the promptest of her spirits, linked
In gallant soldiership, and posting on
To meet the war upon her frontier-bounds.
Yet at this very moment do tears start
Into mine eyes – I do not say I weep,
I wept not then, but tears have dimmed my sight –
In memory of the farewells of that time,
Domestic severings, female fortitude
At dearest separation, patriot love
And self-devotion, and terrestrial hope
Encouraged with a martyr's confidence.
Even files of strangers merely, seen but once
And for a moment, men from far, with sound
Of music, martial tunes, and banners spread,
Entering the city, here and there a face
Or person singled out among the rest
Yet still a stranger, and beloved as such –
Even by these passing spectacles my heart
Was oftentimes uplifted, and they seemed
Like arguments from Heaven that 'twas a cause
Good, and which no one could stand up against
Who was not lost, abandoned, selfish, proud,
Mean, miserable, wilfully depraved,
Hater perverse of equity and truth.
Among that band of officers was one,
Already hinted at, of other mold –
A patriot, thence rejected by the rest,
And with an oriental loathing spurned
As of a different cast. A meeker man
Than this lived never, or a more benign –
Meek, though enthusiastic to the height
Of highest expectation. Injuries
Made him more gracious, and his nature then
Did breathe its sweetness out most sensibly,
As aromatic flowers on Alpine turf
When foot hath crushed them. He through the events
Of that great change wandered in perfect faith,
As through a book, an old romance, or tale
Of Fairy, or some dream of actions wrought
Behind the summer clouds. By birth he ranked
With the most noble, but unto the poor
Among mankind he was in service bound
As by some tie invisible, oaths professed
To a religious order. Man he loved
As man, and to the mean and the obscure,
And all the homely in their homely works,
Transferred a courtesy which had no air
Of condescension, but did rather seem
A passion and a gallantry, like that
Which he, a soldier, in his idler day
Had payed to woman. Somewhat vain he was,
Or seemed so – yet it was not vanity,
But fondness, and a kind of radiant joy
That covered him about when he was bent
On works of love or freedom, or revolved
Complacently the progress of a cause
Whereof he was a part – yet this was meek
And placid, and took nothing from the man
That was delightful. Oft in solitude
With him did I discourse about the end
Of civil government, and its wisest forms,
Of ancient prejudice and chartered rights,
Allegiance, faith, and laws by time matured,
Custom and habit, novelty and change,
Of self-respect, and virtue in the few
For patrimonial honour set apart,
And ignorance in the labouring multitude.
For he, an upright man and tolerant,
Balanced these contemplations in his mind,
And I, who at that time was scarcely dipped
Into the turmoil, had a sounder judgement
Than afterwards, carried about me yet
With less alloy to its integrity
The experience of past ages, as through help
Of books and common life it finds its way
To youthful minds, by objects over near
Not pressed upon, nor dazzled or misled
By struggling with the crowd for present ends.
But though not deaf and obstinate to find
Error without apology on the side
Of those who were against us, more delight
We took, and let this freely be confessed,
In painting to ourselves the miseries
Of royal courts, and that voluptuous life
Unfeeling where the man who is of soul
The meanest thrives the most, where dignity,
True personal dignity, abideth not –
A light and cruel world, cut off from all
The natural inlets of just sentiment,
From lowly sympathy, and chastening truth,
When good and evil never have the name,
That which they ought to have, but wrong prevails,
And vice at home. We added dearest themes,
Man and his noble nature, as it is
The gift of God and lies in his own power,
His blind desires and steady faculties
Capable of clear truth, the one to break
Bondage, the other to build liberty
On firm foundations, making social life,
Through knowledge spreading and imperishable,
As just in regulation, and as pure,
As individual in the wise and good.
We summoned up the honorable deeds
Of ancient story, thought of each bright spot
That could be found in all recorded time,
Of truth preserved and error passed away,
Of single spirits that catch the flame from heaven,
And how the multitude of men will feed
And fan each other – thought of sects, how keen
They are to put the appropriate nature on,
Triumphant over every obstacle
Of custom, language, country, love and hate,
And what they do and suffer for their creed,
How far they travel, and how long endure –
How quickly mighty nations have been formed
From least beginnings, how, together locked
By new opinions, scattered tribes have made
One body, spreading wide as clouds in heaven.
To aspirations then of our own minds
Did we appeal; and, finally, beheld
A living confirmation of the whole
Before us in a people risen up
Fresh as the morning star. Elate we looked
Upon their virtues, saw in rudest men
Self-sacrifice the firmest, generous love
And continence of mind, and sense of right
Uppermost in the midst of fiercest strife.
Oh, sweet it is in academic groves –
Or such retirement, friend, as we have known
Among the mountains by our Rotha's stream,
Greta, or Derwent, or some nameless rill –
To ruminate, with interchange of talk,
On rational liberty and hope in man,
Justice and peace. But far more sweet such toil
(Toil, say I, for it leads to thoughts abstruse)
If Nature then be standing on the brink
Of some great trial, and we hear the voice
Of one devoted, one whom circumstance
Hath called upon to embody his deep sense
In action, give it outwardly a shape,
And that of benediction to the world.
Then doubt is not, and truth is more than truth –
A hope it is and a desire, a creed
Of zeal by an authority divine
Sanctioned, of danger, difficulty, or death.
Such conversation under Attic shades
Did Dion hold with Plato, ripened thus
For a deliverer's glorious task, and such
He, on that ministry already bound,
Held with Eudemus and Timonides,
Surrounded by adventurers in arms,
When those two vessels with their daring freight
For the Sicilian tyrant's overthrow
Sailed from Zacynthus – philosophic war
Led by philosophers. With harder fate,
Though like ambition, such was he, O friend,
Of whom I speak. So Beaupuis – let the name
Stand near the worthiest of antiquity –
Fashioned his life, and many a long discourse
With like persuasion honored we maintained,
He on his part accoutred for the worst.
He perished fighting, in supreme command,
Upon the borders of the unhappy Loire,
For liberty, against deluded men,
His fellow countrymen; and yet most blessed
In this, that he the fate of later times
Lived not to see, nor what we now behold
Who have as ardent hearts as he had then.
Along that very Loire, with festivals
Resounding at all hours, and innocent yet
Of civil slaughter, was our frequent walk,
Or in wide forests of the neighbourhood,
High woods and over-arched, with open space
On every side, and footing many a mile,
Inwoven roots, and moss smooth as the sea –
A solemn region. Often in such place
From earnest dialogues I slipped in thought,
And let remembrance steal to other times
When hermits, from their sheds and caves forth strayed,
Walked by themselves, so met in shades like these,
And if a devious traveller was heard
Approaching from a distance, as might chance,
With speed and echoes loud of trampling hoofs
From the hard floor reverberated, then
It was Angelica thundering through the woods
Upon her palfrey, or that gentler maid
Erminia, fugitive as fair as she.
Sometimes I saw methought a pair of knights
Joust underneath the trees, that as in storm
Did rock above their heads, anon the din
Of boisterous merriment and music's roar,
With sudden proclamation, burst from haunt
Of satyrs in some viewless glade, with dance
Rejoicing o'er a female in the midst,
A mortal beauty, their unhappy thrall.
The width of those huge forests, unto me
A novel scene, did often in this way
Master my fancy while I wandered on
With that revered companion. And sometimes
When to a convent in a meadow green
By a brook-side we came – a roofless pile,
And not by reverential touch of time
Dismantled, but by violence abrupt –
In spite of those heart-bracing colloquies,
In spite of real fervour, and of that
Less genuine and wrought up within myself,
I could not but bewail a wrong so harsh,
And for the matin-bell – to sound no more –
Grieved, and the evening taper, and the cross
High on the topmost pinnacle, a sign
Admonitory to the traveller,
First seen above the woods.
And when my friend
Pointed upon occasion to the site
Of Romarentin, home of ancient kings,
To the imperial edifice of Blois,
Or to that rural castle, name now slipped
From my remembrance, where a lady lodged
By the first Francis wooed, and bound to him
In chains of mutual passion – from the tower,
As a tradition of the country tells,
Practised to commune with her royal knight
By cressets and love-beacons, intercourse
'Twixt her high-seated residence and his
Far off at Chambord on the plain beneath –
Even here, though less than with the peaceful house
Religious, 'mid these frequent monuments
Of kings, their vices and their better deeds,
Imagination, potent to enflame
At times with virtuous wrath and noble scorn,
Did also often mitigate the force
Of civic prejudice, the bigotry,
So call it, of a youthful patriot's mind,
And on these spots with many gleams I looked
Of chivalrous delight. Yet not the less,
Hatred of absolute rule, where will of one
Is law for all, and of that barren pride
In those who by immunities unjust
Betwixt the sovereign and the people stand,
His helpers and not theirs, laid stronger hold
Daily upon me – mixed with pity too,
And love, for where hope is, there love will be
For the abject multitude. And when we chanced
One day to meet a hunger-bitten girl
Who crept along fitting her languid self
Unto a heifer's motion – by a cord
Tied to her arm, and picking thus from the lane
Its sustenance, while the girl with her two hands
Was busy knitting in a heartless mood
Of solitude – and at the sight my friend
In agitation said, »'Tis against that
Which we are fighting,« I with him believed
Devoutly that a spirit was abroad
Which could not be withstood, that poverty,
At least like this, would in a little time
Be found no more, that we should see the earth
Unthwarted in her wish to recompense
The industrious, and the lowly child of toil,
All institutes for ever blotted out
That legalized exclusion, empty pomp
Abolished, sensual state and cruel power,
Whether by edict of the one or few –
And finally, as sum and crown of all,
Should see the people having a strong hand
In making their own laws, whence better days
To all mankind. But, these things set apart,
Was not the single confidence enough
To animate the mind that ever turned
A thought to human welfare? – that henceforth
Captivity by mandate without law
Should cease, and open accusation lead
To sentence in the hearing of the world,
And open punishment, if not the air
Be free to breathe in, and the heart of man
Dread nothing. Having touched this argument
I shall not, as my purpose was, take note
Of other matters which detained us oft
In thought or conversation – public acts,
And public persons, and the emotions wrought
Within our minds by the ever-varying wind
Of record and report which day by day
Swept over us – but I will here instead
Draw from obscurity a tragic tale,
Not in its spirit singular, indeed,
But haply worth memorial, as I heard
The events related by my patriot friend
And others who had borne a part therein.
Oh, happy time of youthful lovers – thus
My story may begin – oh, balmy time
In which a love-knot on a lady's brow
Is fairer than the fairest star in heaven!
To such inheritance of blessedness
Young Vaudracour was brought by years that had
A little overstepped his stripling prime.
A town of small repute in the heart of France
Was the youth's birthplace; there he vowed his love
To Julia, a bright maid from parents sprung
Not mean in their condition, but with rights
Unhonoured of nobility – and hence
The father of the young man, who had place
Among that order, spurned the very thought
Of such alliance. From their cradles up,
With but a step between their several homes,
The pair had thriven together year by year,
Friends, playmates, twins in pleasure, after strife
And petty quarrels had grown fond again,
Each other's advocate, each other's help,
Nor ever happy if they were apart.
A basis this for deep and solid love,
And endless constancy, and placid truth –
But whatsoever of such treasures might,
Beneath the outside of their youth, have lain
Reserved for mellower years, his present mind
Was under fascination – he beheld
A vision, and he loved the thing he saw.
Arabian fiction never filled the world
With half the wonders that were wrought for him:
Earth lived in one great presence of the spring,
Life turned the meanest of her implements
Before his eyes to price above all gold,
The house she dwelt in was a sainted shrine,
Her chamber-window did surpass in glory
The portals of the east, all paradise
Could by the simple opening of a door
Let itself in upon him – pathways, walks,
Swarmed with enchantment, till his spirits sunk
Beneath the burthen, overblessed for life.
This state was theirs, till – whether through effect
Of some delirious hour, or that the youth,
Seeing so many bars betwixt himself
And the dear haven where he wished to be
In honorable wedlock with his love,
Without a certain knowledge of his own
Was inwardly prepared to turn aside
From law and custom and entrust himself
To Nature for a happy end of all,
And thus abated of that pure reserve
Congenial to his loyal heart, with which
It would have pleased him to attend the steps
Of maiden so divinely beautiful,
I know not – but reluctantly must add
That Julia, yet without the name of wife,
Carried about her for a secret grief
The promise of a mother.
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