Chapter 5

I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utility and glory. September 9 the ice began to move, and we were in the most imminent peril. I had promised the sailors that should a passage open to the south, I would not continue my voyage, but would instantly direct my course southward. On the 11th a breeze sprung from the west, and the passage towards the south became perfectly free. Frankenstein bade me farewell when he heard my decision, and died pressing my hand.

At midnight I heard the sound of a hoarse human voice in the cabin where the remains of Frankenstein were lying. I entered, and there, over the body, hung a form gigantic, but uncouth and distorted, and with a face of appalling hideousness.

The monster uttered wild and incoherent self-reproaches. "He is dead who called me into being," he cried, "and the remembrance of us both will speedily vanish. Soon I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt."

He sprang from the cabin window as he said this, upon the ice-raft which lay close to the vessel, and was borne away by the waves, and lost in darkness and distance.

* * * * *

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

Arcadia

Sir Philip Sidney, the finest type of gentleman of Elizabethan days, was born on November 30, 1554, at Penshurst, Kent, the eldest son of Sir Henry Sidney, Lord-Deputy in Ireland, and grandson, on his mother's side, of the Duke of Northumberland, who was beheaded for complicity in the Lady Jane Grey conspiracy. Education at Oxford, travel abroad, diplomatic service, a wise interest in literature, and a singular graciousness of character made Sidney "a full man." He was regarded, at home and abroad, as the ideal gentleman of his time, and a heroic death, at the siege of Zutphen, on October 2, 1586, enhanced his fame. His body was brought home for a national funeral in old St. Paul's. Sidney's claims as a writer are based on both prose--"Arcadia" and "An Apologie for Poetrie"--and verse--"Astrophel and Stella." The elaborate and artificial romance "Arcadia" was written for his sister Mary, Countess of Pembroke, probably between 1578-80. It was left incomplete, and was not published until four years after his death. It has been described as forming the earliest model for the art of prose. In our epitome we have followed the central thread of a story which has innumerable episodic extensions.

_I.--Lost and Found_

It was the time that the earth begins to put on her new apparel against the approach of her lover, when the shepherd, Strephon, on the sands which lie against the island of Cithera, called upon him his friendly rival, Claius, and bewailed their hopeless wooing of the fair shepherdess, Urania, whose beauty taught the beholders chastity. As they were going on with their praises, they perceived the thing which floated nearer and nearer to the shore, by the favourable working of the sea, till it was cast up hard before them, and they fully saw it was a man. So they fell to rub and chafe him, till they brought him to recover both breath, the servant, and warmth, the companion of living. Whereupon, without so much as thanking them for their pains, he got up and cried, as he looked round to the uttermost limits of his sight, "What, shall Musidorus live after Pyrocles's destruction?" Then they, hearing him speak in Greek, which was their natural language, became the more tender-hearted towards him.

"Since you take care of me," said he, "I pray you find some bark that will go out of the haven, that it possible we may find the body of Pyrocles." So Claius presently went to a fisherman, and having agreed with him, and provided some apparel for the naked stranger, they embarked, and were no sooner gone beyond the mouth of the haven than they discerned the ship burning which had driven both Musidorus and his friend, rather to commit themselves to the cold mercy of the sea, than to abide the hot cruelty of the fire. And when they had bent their course as near up to it as they could, they saw, but a little way off, the mast, whose proud height now lay along, and upon it a young man who sat as on horseback, holding a sword aloft which often he waved, which when Musidorus saw he was ravished with joy. But now the sailors described a galley which came with sails and oars directly in the chase of them, and straight they perceived it was a well-known pirate, so forthwith they set on all the canvas, and flew homeward, leaving in that poor sort Pyrocles, so near to be rescued. And Musidorus, casting a long look that way, saw the galley leave the pursuit of them, and turn to take up the spoils of the wreck; and, lastly, he might well see them lift up the young man. But the fishermen made such speed into the haven that they absented his eyes from beholding the issue, and he could procure neither them, nor any other, to put to sea again.

The honest shepherds, Strephon and Claius, seeing sickness grew something upon their companion, offered to bring him into their own country of Arcadia, upon the next confines whereof dwelt a gentleman, by name Kalander, who for his hospitality was much haunted, and for his upright dealing beloved of his neighbours. To this Musidorus gave easy assent; and so they came to Arcadia, which welcomed Musidorus' eyes with delightful prospects. These were hills garnished with stately trees, humble valleys comforted with the refreshing of silver rivers, meadows enameled with eye-pleasing flowers, pastures stored with sheep feeding in sober security, here a young shepherdess knitting and singing withal, and there a shepherd boy piping as though he should never be old.

As they came near the house, Claius asked to know something more of Musidorus and the young man he lamented, that they might inform Kalander how to proportion his entertainment. Musidorus, according to an agreement between Pyrocles and himself to alter their names, answered that he called himself Palladius, and his friend Diaphantus. And Kalander, judging his guest was of no mean calling, and seeing him possessed with an extreme burning fever, conveyed him to commodious lodging in his house, and respectfully entertained him; and the young shepherds went away, leaving Musidorus loath to part with them.

There Palladius continued some while with no great hope of life, but youth at length got the victory of sickness. Palladius, having gotten his health, Kalander, who found in him a piercing wit, void of ostentation, high-erected thoughts seated in a heart of courtesy, and a behaviour so noble as gave a majesty to adversity, and enamoured with a fatherly love towards him, proceeded to tell him of Arcadia.

"Here dwelleth and reigneth Prince Basilius, who being already well stricken in years married a young Princess, Gynecia, of notable beauty, and of these two are brought to the world two daughters, the elder named Pamela, the younger Philoclea, both beyond measure excellent in all the gifts allotted to reasonable creatures. When I marked them, methought there was more sweetness in Philoclea, but more majesty in Pamela; methought Philoclea's beauty only persuaded, but so persuaded as all hearts must yield; Pamela's beauty used violence, and such violence as no heart could resist. Philoclea, so bashful as though her excellencies had stolen into her before she was aware; Pamela of high thoughts, who avoids pride by making it one of her excellencies to be void of pride. Now Basilius hath retired himself, his wife, and children, into a forest hereby, which he calleth his desert, having appointed a nobleman named Philanax to be Prince Regent--and most worthy so to be--and this Basilius doth, because he means not, while he breathes, that his daughters shall have any husbands, but keep them solitary with him."

Some few days afterwards Palladius perceived by the behaviour of Kalander, who had retired himself to his chamber, that an ill-pleasing accident had fallen out. Whereupon he called to the steward and desired the truth, who confessed that his master had received news that his son, Clitophon, who was near the day of his marriage, had been made prisoner at a battle between the Lacedæmon and the Helots, when going to deliver a friend of his taken prisoner by the Helots; and every hour he was to look for nothing but some cruel death, though he had offered great ransom for his life, which death, hitherunto, had only been delayed by the captain of the Helots, who seemed to have a heart of more manly pity than the rest.

Hearing this, Palladius thanked the steward, and then, well bethinking himself, called for armour, a horse, and guide, and armed all saving the head, went to Kalander, who had banished food and sleep as enemies to mourning, and said, "No more, no more of this, my Lord Kalander, let us labour to find before we lament the loss." And with those words comfort seemed to lighten in his eyes; and in his face and gesture was painted victory.

Kalander's spirits were so revived that he himself guided Palladiu to the place upon the frontiers where already were assembled several thousand men all well disposed for Kalander's sake to abide any peril. So Palladius marched on the town of Cardamila, where Clitophon was captive, and having by a stratagem obtained entry, put the Helots to flight, but ere the Arcadians could reach the prison, the captain of the Helots, who had been absent, returned and rallied them. Then the fight grew most sharp, and the encounters of cruel obstinacy, and such was the overflowing of the valour of Palladius that the captain of the Helots saw he alone was worth all the rest of the Arcadians; and disdaining to fight any other sought only to join with him, which mind was no less in Palladius. So they began a combat, surpassing in bravery, and, as it were, delightful terribleness, till, both sides beginning to wax faint, the captain of the Helots strake Palladius upon the side of the head, and withal his helmet fell off. Other of the Arcadians were ready to shield him from any harm which might rise of that nakedness; but little needed it, for his chief enemy kneeled down, offering to deliver the pommel of his sword, in token of yielding, withal saying aloud that he thought it more liberty to be his prisoner than any other's general. Palladius, standing upon himself, and misdoubting some craft, "What," said the Captain, "hath Palladius forgotten the voice of Diaphantus?"

And by that watchword Palladius knew it was his only friend Pyrocles, whom he had lost upon the sea, and therefore both caused the retreat to be sounded. And of the Arcadian side the good old Kalander striving more than his old age could achieve, was taken prisoner, but being led towards the captain of the Helots, whom should he see next the captain but his son Clitophon! Then were Kalander and Clitophon delivered to the Arcadians without ransom, for so the Helots agreed, being moved by the authority of Diaphantus as much as persuaded by his reasons, and to Palladius (for so he called Musidorus) he sent word by Clitophon that he would himself repair to Arcadia, having dispatched himself of the Helots. Also he assured them he would bring with him Clitophon's friend. Araglus, till then kept in close prison, or he would die. And this he did, and was received with loving joy by Kalander.

_II.--The Lovers' Quest_

The two friends having accounted their adventures to each other since they parted, embraced and kissed each other, and then told Kalander the whole story; and Palladius recounted also to Pyrocles the strange story of Arcadia and its king. And so they lived for some days in great contentment. But anon, it could not be hid from Palladius that Diaphantus was grown weary of his abode in Arcadia, seeing the court could not be visited, but was prohibited to all men save certain shepherdish people. And one day, when Kalander had invited them to the hunting of a goodly stag, Diaphantus was missed, after death had been sent to the poor beast with a crossbow, and on returning to the house, Palladius, greatly marvelling, lighted on a letter written by Pyrocles before he went a-hunting, in which he said that violence of love led to his absence. Then Palladius determined never to leave seeking him till his search should be either by meeting accomplished, or by death ended.

So, in private guise, he directed his course to Laconia, and passed through Achai, and Sycyonia, and returned after two months travail in vain. Having already passed over the greater part of Arcadia, one day, going to repose himself in a little wood, he saw a fair lady walking with her side towards him, whose sword interested her to be an Amazon, and following her warily to a fine close arbour, he heard her sing, with a voice no less beautiful to his ears than her goodliness was full of harmony to his sight. The ditty gave him suspicion, and the voice gave him assurance who the singer was, and entering boldly he perceived it was Pyrocles thus disguised.

Then Pyrocles told him he had been infected by love through a sight of the picture of the king's daughter Philoclea, and by what he had heard of her and, in the guise of an Amazon, and under the name of Zelmane, had come forth to seek her.

As a supposed niece to the Queen of the Amazons he had been gently received by King Basilius in his sylvan retirement, and introduced to his Queen and daughters, with the effect that he was more than ever in love with the Princess Philoclea, while old Basilius, deceived as to his sex, showed signs of a doting admiration which choked him with its tediousness.

So Musidorus returned to a village not far off, and Zelmane returned to the part of the forest where the king kept his seclusion.

When Zelmane next returned to the arbour where she had met Musidorus she saw, walking from herward, a man in shepherdish apparel, with a sheephook in his right hand, and singing as he went a lamentable tune. The voice made her hasten her pace to overtake him, for she plainly perceived it was her dear friend Musidorus.

Then Musidorus recounted how sojourning in secret, and watching by the arbour, he had observed and loved the Princess Pamela, and was now under the name of Dorus, disguised as one of the shepherds who were allowed the Princess' presence. And so it happened that when Basilius, the better to breed Zelmane's liking, appointed a fair field for shepherdish pastimes, Zelmane and Dorus were both of the company, Dorus still keeping his eye on Pamela, and Zelmane setting the hand of Philoclea to her lips, when suddenly there came out of a wood a monstrous lion, with a she-bear not far from him, of little less fierceness. Philoclea no sooner espied the lion than she lept up and ran lodge-ward, as fast as her delicate legs could carry her, while Dorus drew Pamela behind a tree, where she stood quaking like the partridge which the hawk is ready to seize. The Zelmane, to whom danger was a cause of dreadlessness, slew the lion and carried the head to Philoclea, while Pamela was seen coming, and having in her hand the paw of the bear which the shepherd Dorus had presented unto her. And while Philoclea applied precious balm to a wound of no importance which Zelmane had received, Pamela's noble heart would needs make known gratefully the valiant means of her safety.

And now the two friends sought to make known their true estate to Philoclea and Pamela. So Dorus, feigning a love in attendance on Pamela, told her, in the presence of her mistress, the story of the two friends, Pyrocles and Musidorus, but in such words that Pamela understood who it was that was speaking, and carried to Philoclea the news that her Dorus had fallen out to be none other than the Prince Musidorus, famous over all Asia for his heroical enterprises; and, later, Pyrocles, finding himself in private conference with Philoclea, did avow himself Prince of Macedon, and her true lover, and they passed the promise of marriage, and she, to entertain him from a more straight parley, did entreat him to tell the story of his life, and what he did until he came to the shipwreck.

_III.--Through Perils to Peace_

By the mischievous device of Cecropia, aunt to the Princesses, both were carried away, with Zelmane, and imprisoned in her castle in the hope that Philoclea would favour the suit of her cousin Amphialus, Crecropia's son. But Philoclea remained faithful to her love for Pyrocles, and Pamela faithful to her love for Musidorus, who brought up an army and stormed the castle, and rescued the prisoners.

The princes, becoming tired of inaction, and foreseeing no favourable issue to their concealed suits, persuaded the Princesses to attempt an escape with them to their own dominions; and such was the trust Pamela placed in Musidorus and Philoclea in Pyrocles, that they became willing companions in the flight. But when Musidorus and Pamela had escaped, and Pyrocles sought Philoclea in her room to carry her away, he found she was unable to undertake the fatigue of the journey; and Dametas, the clownish guardian of the princess, discovering the presence of Pyrocles in the room, locked the door on the inside, and raised an alarm. Musidorus and Pamela too were surprised, secured, and brought back.

Now, by the laws of the Arcadians, both the princesses and their lovers had forfeited their lives by their indiscretions, but King Basilius was removed from the seat of judgement by drinking a potion of drugged wine, which the Queen, not without warning to the King, had prepared for Zelmane. It was left, therefore, to Philanax, the regent, to deal with the difficulties that surrounded the administration of justice--the offences of Musidorus and Pyrocles, of Philoclea and Pamela, who now became heir to the throne, and the complicity of the Queen in the death of the King. At this moment, Euarchus, King of Macedon, arrived with a small escort, on a visit to his friend, King Basilius, and, by common consent, was asked to deliver judgement on the several prisoners.

His decisions were, that the Queen should be buried quick with the body of her husband; that Philoclea should be kept a prisoner as a vestal nun; that Pyrocles should be thrown out of a high tower to receive his death by his fall, and that Musidorus should be beheaded.

At this moment a stranger broke through the press and astonished the multitude with his cries. Then falling at the feet of Euarchus, he told him those whom he had judged were his own son, the comfort of Macedon, and his nephew, the only stay of Thessalia, who, during their wanderings, had grown out of the knowledge of their king.

Then Euarchus, after staying a good while upon himself like a valiant man that should receive a good encounter, at length said, "O Arcadians, that what this day I have said, hath been out of my assured persuasion what justice itself, and your just laws require. Now, contrary to expectation, I find the guilty to be my only son and nephew. But shall justice halt? Or rather shall all my private respects give place to that holy name? Let the remnant of my life be an inward and outward desolation; but never, never let sacred rightfulness fall. Therefore, O Philanax, see the judgement rightly performed."

But this pitiful matter was not entered into, for King Basilius, who had been thought dead, awoke from the sleep into which the potion had cast him, and there was much ado to make him understand what had fallen out. Then, having weighed these things, he first sent with all honourable pomp for his Queen, Gynecia, and told them how she had warned him to take heed of the drink; and next, with princely entertainment to Euarchus, and to his inestimable joy the marriage was concluded between the peerless princes and princesses.

* * * * *

TOBIAS SMOLLETT

The Adventures of Roderick Random

Tobias George Smollett was born at Dalquhurn, Dumbartonshire, Scotland, in 1721. He was apprenticed to a Glasgow apothecary, came to London in 1739, much in the way described in "Roderick Random," with a tragedy in his pocket, and very little else. The play, "Regicide," he submitted in vain to various theatrical managers, and, reduced almost to starvation, during the same year accepted the post of surgeon's mate on board a King's ship. In 1746 he returned to England, bent upon another desperate effort to make a living by his pen. A period of adverse fortune followed, broken, however, in 1748 by the publication of "The Adventures of Roderick Random." Two years later Smollett obtained his M.D. degree, and for a number of years combined medical work with literature. In 1756 he was made editor of the "Critical Review," a post which resulted in a fine of £100 and three months' imprisonment for a libel on Admiral Knowles. He died on October 21, 1771. Smollett wrote altogether five novels and a number of historical works and records of travel. It is impossible to overestimate his influence on novel-writing. Most of the great Victorian writers, especially Charles Dickens, owe much to his art.

_I.--My Birth, Parentage, and Childhood_

I was born in the northern part of this United Kingdom, in the house of my grandfather, a gentleman of considerable fortune and influence, who was remarkable for his abilities in the law, which he exercised with great success in the station of a judge.

My father, his youngest son, falling in love with a poor relation, who lived with the old gentleman in the quality of housekeeper, espoused her privately; and I was the first fruit of that marriage. On my grandfather telling my father one day, that he had provided a match for him, the latter frankly owned what he had done. He added, that no exception could be taken to his wife's virtue, birth, beauty, and good sense; and as for fortune, it was beneath his care; he could be in no danger of wanting while his father's tenderness remained, which he and his wife should always cultivate with the utmost veneration. "Your brothers and sisters," said my grandfather, "did not think it beneath them to consult me in an affair of such importance as matrimony; neither, I suppose, would you have omitted that piece of duty, had not you some secret fund in reserve, to the comforts of which I leave you, with a desire that you will this night seek out another habitation for yourself and wife. Sir, you are a polite gentleman, I will send you an account of the expense I have been at in your education--I wish you a great deal of joy, and am your very humble servant."

So saying, he left my father in a situation easily imagined. However, he did not long hesitate: for being perfectly well acquainted with my grandfather's disposition, he knew it would be to no purpose to attempt him by prayers and entreaties. So without any further application, he betook himself with his disconsolate bedfellow to a farmhouse, where an old servant of his mother dwelt. In this ill-adapted situation they remained for some time, until my mother, hoping that her tears and condition would move my grandfather to compassion, went, in disguise, to the house, and implored his forgiveness. My grandfather told her that he had already made a vow which put it out of his power to assist her; and this said, he retired.

My mother was so afflicted by this that she was, at once, thrown into violent pains. By the friendship of an old maidservant she was carried up to a garret, where I was born. Three days later my grandfather sent a peremptory order to her to be gone, and weakness, grief, and anxiety soon put an end to her life. My father was so affected with her death, that he remained six weeks deprived of his senses; during which time, the people where he lodged carried the infant to the old man, who relented so far as to send the child to nurse.