change of scene operated to a great degree as I expected; after a year's

absence, Perdita returned in gentler and more docile mood to Windsor. The

first sight of this place for a time unhinged her. Here every spot was

distinct with associations now grown bitter. The forest glades, the ferny

dells, and lawny uplands, the cultivated and cheerful country spread around

the silver pathway of ancient Thames, all earth, air, and wave, took up one

choral voice, inspired by memory, instinct with plaintive regret.

But my essay towards bringing her to a saner view of her own situation, did

not end here. Perdita was still to a great degree uneducated. When first

she left her peasant life, and resided with the elegant and cultivated

Evadne, the only accomplishment she brought to any perfection was that of

painting, for which she had a taste almost amounting to genius. This had

occupied her in her lonely cottage, when she quitted her Greek friend's

protection. Her pallet and easel were now thrown aside; did she try to

paint, thronging recollections made her hand tremble, her eyes fill with

tears. With this occupation she gave up almost every other; and her mind

preyed upon itself almost to madness.

For my own part, since Adrian had first withdrawn me from my selvatic

wilderness to his own paradise of order and beauty, I had been wedded to

literature. I felt convinced that however it might have been in former

times, in the present stage of the world, no man's faculties could be

developed, no man's moral principle be enlarged and liberal, without an

extensive acquaintance with books. To me they stood in the place of an

active career, of ambition, and those palpable excitements necessary to the

205

The Last Man