zanoni-第68章

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vicissitude　and　woe　are　our　memories　become！　　What　our　lives；　but

the　chronicles　of　unrelenting　death！　　It　seems　to　me　as　yesterday

when　I　stood　in　the　streets　of　this　city　of　the　Gaul；　as　they

shone　with　plumed　chivalry；　and　the　air　rustled　with　silken

braveries。　　Young　Louis；　the　monarch　and　the　lover；　was　victor　of

the　Tournament　at　the　Carousel；　and　all　France　felt　herself

splendid　in　the　splendour　of　her　gorgeous　chief！　　Now　there　is

neither　throne　nor　altar；　and　what　is　in　their　stead？　　I　see　it

yonderthe　GUILLOTINE！　　It　is　dismal　to　stand　amidst　the　ruins

of　mouldering　cities；　to　startle　the　serpent　and　the　lizard

amidst　the　wrecks　of　Persepolis　and　Thebes；　but　more　dismal　still

to　stand　as　Ithe　stranger　from　Empires　that　have　ceased　to　be

stand　now　amidst　the　yet　ghastlier　ruins　of　Law　and　Order；　the

shattering　of　mankind　themselves！　　Yet　here；　even　here；　Love；　the

Beautifier；　that　hath　led　my　steps；　can　walk　with　unshrinking

hope　through　the　wilderness　of　Death。　　Strange　is　the　passion

that　makes　a　world　in　itself；　that　individualises　the　One　amidst

the　Multitude；　that；　through　all　the　changes　of　my　solemn　life；

yet　survives；　though　ambition　and　hate　and　anger　are　dead；　the

one　solitary　angel；　hovering　over　a　universe　of　tombs　on　its　two

tremulous　and　human　wings；Hope　and　Fear！



How　is　it；　Mejnour；　that；　as　my　diviner　art　abandoned　me；as；　in

my　search　for　Viola；　I　was　aided　but　by　the　ordinary　instincts　of

the　merest　mortal；how　is　it　that　I　have　never　desponded；　that　I

have　felt　in　every　difficulty　the　prevailing　prescience　that　we

should　meet　at　last？　　So　cruelly　was　every　vestige　of　her　flight

concealed　from　me；so　suddenly；　so　secretly　had　she　fled；　that

all　the　spies；　all　the　authorities　of　Venice；　could　give　me　no

clew。　　All　Italy　I　searched　in　vain！　　Her　young　home　at　Naples！

how　still；　in　its　humble　chambers；　there　seemed　to　linger　the

fragrance　of　her　presence！　　All　the　sublimest　secrets　of　our　lore

failed　me；failed　to　bring　her　soul　visible　to　mine；　yet　morning

and　night；　thou　lone　and　childless　one；　morning　and　night；

detached　from　myself；　I　can　commune　with　my　child！　　There　in　that

most　blessed；　typical；　and　mysterious　of　all　relations；　Nature

herself　appears　to　supply　what　Science　would　refuse。　　Space

cannot　separate　the　father's　watchful　soul　from　the　cradle　of　his

first…born！　　I　know　not　of　its　resting…place　and　home；my

visions　picture　not　the　land；only　the　small　and　tender　life　to

which　all　space　is　as　yet　the　heritage！　　For　to　the　infant；

before　reason　dawns；before　man's　bad　passions　can　dim　the

essence　that　it　takes　from　the　element　it　hath　left；　there　is　no

peculiar　country；　no　native　city；　and　no　mortal　language。　　Its

soul　as　yet　is　the　denizen　of　all　airs　and　of　every　world；　and　in

space　its　soul　meets　with　mine；the　child　communes　with　the

father！　　Cruel　and　forsaking　one；thou　for　whom　I　left　the

wisdom　of　the　spheres；　thou　whose　fatal　dower　has　been　the

weakness　and　terrors　of　humanity；couldst　thou　think　that　young

soul　less　safe　on　earth　because　I　would　lead　it　ever　more　up　to

heaven！　　Didst　thou　think　that　I　could　have　wronged　mine　own？

Didst　thou　not　know　that　in　its　serenest　eyes　the　life　that　I

gave　it　spoke　to　warn；　to　upbraid　the　mother　who　would　bind　it　to

the　darkness　and　pangs　of　the　prison…house　of　clay？　　Didst　thou

not　feel　that　it　was　I　who；　permitted　by　the　Heavens；　shielded　it

from　suffering　and　disease？　　And　in　its　wondrous　beauty；　I

blessed　the　holy　medium　through　which；　at　last；　my　spirit　might

confer　with　thine！



And　how　have　I　tracked　them　hither？　　I　learned　that　thy　pupil　had

been　at　Venice。　　I　could　not　trace　the　young　and　gentle　neophyte

of　Parthenope　in　the　description　of　the　haggard　and　savage

visitor　who　had　come　to　Viola　before　she　fled；　but　when　I　would

have　summoned　his　IDEA　before　me；　it　refused　to　obey；　and　I　knew

then　that　his　fate　had　become　entwined　with　Viola's。　　I　have

tracked　him；　then；　to　this　Lazar　House。　　I　arrived　but　yesterday；

I　have　not　yet　discovered　him。



。。。



I　have　just　returned　from　their　courts　of　justice；dens　where

tigers　arraign　their　prey。　　I　find　not　whom　I　would　seek。　　They

are　saved　as　yet；　but　I　recognise　in　the　crimes　of　mortals　the

dark　wisdom　of　the　Everlasting。　　Mejnour；　I　see　here；　for　the

first　time；　how　majestic　and　beauteous　a　thing　is　death！　　Of　what

sublime　virtues　we　robbed　ourselves；　when；　in　the　thirst　for

virtue；　we　attained　the　art　by　which　we　can　refuse　to　die！　　When

in　some　happy　clime；　where　to　breathe　is　to　enjoy；　the　charnel…

house　swallows　up　the　young　and　fair；　when　in　the　noble　pursuit

of　knowledge；　Death　comes　to　the　student；　and　shuts　out　the

enchanted　land　which　was　opening　to　his　gaze；how　natural　for　us

to　desire　to　live；　how　natural　to　make　perpetual　life　the　first

object　of　research！　　But　here；　from　my　tower　of　time；　looking

over　the　darksome　past；　and　into　the　starry　future；　I　learn　how

great　hearts　feel　what　sweetness　and　glory　there　is　to　die　for

the　things　they　love！　　I　saw　a　father　sacrificing　himself　for　his

son；　he　was　subjected　to　charges　which　a　word　of　his　could

dispel；he　was　mistaken　for　his　boy。　　With　what　joy　he　seized

the　error；　confessed　the　noble　crimes　of　valour　and　fidelity

which　the　son　had　indeed　committed；　and　went　to　the　doom；

exulting　that　his　death　saved　the　life　he　had　given；　not　in　vain！

I　saw　women；　young；　delicate；　in　the　bloom　of　their　beauty；　they

had　vowed　themselves　to　the　cloister。　　Hands　smeared　with　the

blood　of　saints　opened　the　gate　that　had　shut　them　from　the

world；　and　bade　them　go　forth；　forget　their　vows；　forswear　the

Divine　one　these　demons　would　depose；　find　lovers　and　helpmates；

and　be　free。　　And　some　of　these　young　hearts　had　loved；　and　even；

though　in　struggles；　loved　yet。　　Did　they　forswear　the　vow？　　Did

they　abandon　the　faith？　　Did　even　love　allure　them？　　Mejnour；

with　one　voice；　they　preferred　to　die。　　And　whence　comes　this

courage？because　such　HEARTS　LIVE　IN　SOME　MORE　ABSTRACT　AND

HOLIER　LIFE　THAN　THEIR　OWN。　　BUT　TO　LIVE　FOREVER　UPON　THIS　EARTH

IS　TO　LIVE　IN　NOTHING　DIVINER　THAN　OURSELVES。　　Yes；　even　amidst

this　gory　butcherdom；　God；　the　Ever…living；　vindicates　to　man　the

sanctity　of　His　servant；　Death！



。。。



Again　I　have　seen　thee　in　spirit；　I　have　seen　and　blessed　thee；

my　sweet　child！　　Dost　thou　not　know　me　also　in　thy　dreams？　　Dost

thou　not　feel　the　beating　of　my　heart　through　the　veil　of　thy

rosy　slumbers？　　Dost　thou　not　hear　the　wings　of　the　brighter

beings　that　I　yet　can　conjure　around　thee；　to　watch；　to　nourish；

and　to　save？　　And　when　the　spell　fades　at　thy　waking；　when　thine

eyes　open　to　the　day；　will　they　not　look　round　for　me；　and　ask

thy　mother；　with　their　mute　eloquence；　〃Why　she　has　robbed　thee

of　a　father？〃



Woman；　dost　thou　not　repent　thee？　　Flying　from　imaginary　fears；

hast　thou　not　come　to　the　very　lair　of　terror；　where　Danger　sits

visible　and　incarnate？　　Oh；　if　we　could　but　meet；　wouldst　thou

not　fall　upon　the　bosom　thou　hast　so　wronged；　and　feel；　poor

wanderer　amidst　the　storms；　as　if　thou　hadst　regained　the

shelter？　　Mejnour；　still　my　researches　fail　me。　　I　mingle　with

all　men；　even　their　judges　and　their　spies；　but　I　cannot　yet　gain

the　clew。　　I　know　that　she　is　here。　　I　know　it　by　an　instinct；

the　breath　of　my　child　seems　warmer　and　more　familiar。



They　peer　at　me　with　venomous　looks；　as　I　pass　through　their

streets。　　With　a　glance　I　disarm　their　malice；　and　fascinate　the

basilisks。　　Everywhere　I　see　the　track　and　scent　the　presence　of

the　Ghostly　One　that　dwells　on　the　Threshold；　and　whose　victims

are　the　souls　that　would　ASPIRE；　and　can　only　FEAR。　　I　see　its

dim　shapelessness　going　before　the　men　of　blood；　and　marshalling

their　way。　　Robespierre　passed　me　with　his　furtive　step。　　Those

eyes　of　horror　were　gnawing　into　his　heart。　　I　looked　down　upon

their　senate；　the　grim　Phantom　sat　cowering　on　its　floor。　　It

hath　taken　up　its　abode　in　the　city　of　Dread。　　And　what　in　truth

are　these　would…be　builders　of　a　new　world？　　Like　the　students

who　have　vainly　struggled　after　our　supreme　science；　they　have

attempted　what　is　beyond　their　power；　they　have　passed　from　this

solid　earth　of　usages　and　forms　into　the　land　of　shadow；　and　its

loathsome　keeper　has　seized　them　as　its　prey。　　I　looked　into　the

tyrant's　shuddering　soul；　as　it　trembled　past　me。　　There；　amidst

the　ruins　of　a　thousand　systems　which　aimed　at　virtue；　sat　Crime；

and　shivered　at　its　desolation。　　Yet　this　man　is　the　only

Thinker；　the　only　Aspirant；　amongst　them　all。　　He　still　looks　for

a　future　of　peace　and　mercy；　to　begin；ay！　at　what　date？　　When

he　has　swept　away　every　foe。　　Fool！　new　foes　spring　from　every

drop　of　blood。　　Led　by　the　eyes　of　the　Unutterable；　he　is　walking

to　his　doom。



O　Viola；　thy　innocence　protects　thee！　　Thou　whom　the　sweet

humanities　of　love　shut　out　even　from　the　dreams　of　aerial　and

spiritual　beauty；　making　thy　heart　a　universe　of　visions　fairer

than　the　wanderer　over　the　rosy　Hesperus　can　survey；shall　not

the　same　pure　affection　encompass　thee；　even　here；　with　a　charmed

atmosphere；　and　terror　itself　fall　harmless　on　a　life　too

innocent　for　wisdom？





CHAPTER　7。IV。



Ombra　piu　che　di　notte；　in　cui　di　luce

Raggio　misto　non　e；



。。。



Ne　piu　il　palagio　appar；　ne　piu　le　sue

Vestigia；　ne　dir　puossiegli　qui　fue。

〃Ger。　Lib。；　canto　xvi。…lxix。



（Darkness　greater　than　of　night；　in　which　not　a　ray　of　light　is

mixed；。。。The　palace　appears　no　more：　　not　even　a　vestige；nor

can　one　say　that　it　has　been。）



The　clubs　are　noisy　with　clamorous　frenzy；　the　leaders　are　grim

with　schemes。　　Black　Henriot　flies　here　and　there；　muttering　to

his　armed　troops；　〃Robespierre；　your　beloved；　is　in　danger！〃

Robespierre　stalks　perturbed；　his　list　of　victims　swelling　every

hour。　　Tallien；　the　Macduff　to　the　doomed　Macbeth；　is　whispering

courage　to　his　pale　conspirators。　　Along　the　streets　heavily　roll

the　tumbrils。　　The　shops　are　closed；the　people　are　gorged　with

gore；　and　will　lap　no　more。　　And　night　after　night；　to　the　eighty

theatres　flock　the　children　of　the　Revolution；　to　laugh　at　the

quips　of　comedy；　and　weep　gentle　tears　over　imaginary　woes！



In　a　small　chamber；　in　the　heart　of　the　city；　sits　the　mother；

watching　over　her　child。　　It　is　quiet；　happy　noon；　the　sunlight；

broken　by　the　tall　roofs　in　the　narrow　street；　comes　yet　through

the　open　casement；　the　impartial　playfellow　of　the　air；　gleesome

alike　in　temple　and　prison；　hall　and　hovel；　as　golden　and　as

blithe；　whether　it　laugh　over　the　first　hour　of　life；　or　quiver

in　its　gay　delight　on　the　terror　and　agony　of　the　last！　　The

child；　where　it　lay　at　the　feet　of　Viola；　stretched　out　its

dimpled　hands　as　if　to　clasp　the　dancing　motes　that　revelled　in

the　beam。　　The　mother　turned　her　eyes　from　the　glory；　it　saddened

her　yet　more。　　She　turned　and　sighed。



Is　this　the　same　Viola　who