state of things on the continent, and were not without some vague hope of

finding numerous companions in its wide track. But the same causes that had

so fearfully diminished the English nation had had even greater scope for

mischief in the sister land. France was a blank; during the long line of

road from Calais to Paris not one human being was found. In Paris there

were a few, perhaps a hundred, who, resigned to their coming fate, flitted

about the streets of the capital and assembled to converse of past times,

with that vivacity and even gaiety that seldom deserts the individuals of

this nation.

The English took uncontested possession of Paris. Its high houses and

narrow streets were lifeless. A few pale figures were to be distinguished

at the accustomed resort at the Tuileries; they wondered wherefore the

islanders should approach their ill-fated city--for in the excess of

wretchedness, the sufferers always imagine, that their part of the calamity

is the bitterest, as, when enduring intense pain, we would exchange the

particular torture we writhe under, for any other which should visit a

different part of the frame. They listened to the account the emigrants

gave of their motives for leaving their native land, with a shrug almost of

disdain--"Return," they said, "return to your island, whose sea breezes,

and division from the continent gives some promise of health; if Pestilence

among you has slain its hundreds, with us it has slain its thousands. Are

you not even now more numerous than we are?--A year ago you would have

found only the sick burying the dead; now we are happier; for the pang of

struggle has passed away, and the few you find here are patiently waiting

the final blow. But you, who are not content to die, breathe no longer the

492

The Last Man