Part 5

"At the head of the grand council of the empire I was in due time installed; and while I there remained, was the originator of a multitude of various measures, having for their object the public welfare. My coadjutors I found to be men with whom I could but little sympathise, because they had no sympathy for their fellows. They were proud, vain, selfish, and intolerant. They imagined themselves governors instead of ministers. They liked to rule better than to advise. They bowed in abject servility to their superior, and strived to make those having less power as slavish in their behaviour to themselves.

"It is not at all extraordinary that such dispositions should regard the untitled merchant who presided at their deliberations, always exercised his own judgment in preference to theirs, paid no deference to their fancied superiority, and appeared on terms of equality even with their emperor, as one unqualified for government, and solely kept in office by the emperor's foolish partiality; and I was neither surprised or offended, when I found them opposing the measures I brought forward; treating my arguments with inattention, and my person with disrespect. Finding that, under such circumstances, my services could be of no value to the community, I was obliged to request the emperor to release me from the responsibilities of my situation. He desired to know the reasons for my resignation. I told him. I was entreated to remain; an intimation was conveyed to the members of the council from him they acknowledged as their master, and, when I returned to my duties, I found them rivalling each other in obsequiousness to my will. That, notwithstanding the readiness with which they embraced my views, they hated me in their hearts, I regret to say, was too evident. But they were little to be blamed. Had they known that, even in the idle rank which they prized so highly, I was the equal of the noblest, and the superior of the rest, they would have regarded me with more generous feelings; but none knew when my father died, and my younger brother took possession of the titles and estates of the family; that the rightful heir, long lamented as dead, was living, in the person of an object of secret disdain to his coadjutors; and that he was Oriel Porphyry, the merchant.

"It may easily be imagined by you, from what I have related, that the emperor had sympathies in his nature rarely met with in conquerors; but by me they were first awakened. On one of our earliest interviews, when the spirit that kept his desires in a ferment was still strong upon him, he said,--

"'I want action--I want action. I cannot live except in the stir of battle, and the pursuit of conquest. But my triumphs are completed--I have nothing left to conquer.'

"Sire," said I, "the most valuable--the most difficult conquest remains unachieved."

"'What have I to conquer?' he asked, eagerly.

"Yourself," I replied. I will do him the justice to say that he did not lose sight of the suggestion. His mind became liberalised--his heart expanded to the influence of sincere philanthropy--for the first time he understood the nature of true happiness; and although from the effects of a disease of long standing his reign, from this time, was brief, he lived to effect some valuable reformations in the laws, and by their results in ameliorating the condition of the people, provided, as far as he had the power, a remedy for the mischiefs he had created.

"His successor was a weak, proud, vain young man, possessing a disposition for tyranny--usually found in company with incapacity holding power; and it is almost unnecessary to state that such a character found plenty of bad advisers, and that I was speedily obliged by their machinations to retire from all participation in the government. Although my time had always been actively employed, I had regarded the progress of your education with so much interest, that I never failed to create opportunities for superintending your studies. I witnessed the developement of your mind with increasing pleasure, and found a continual gratification in the approaches you were making to the perfect dignity of manhood. About this time we went to reside in the neighbourhood of Philadelphia's noble mansion, because the scenery was endeared to me by all the most pleasant of my early recollections, and I encouraged your intimacy with our proud neighbours, in consequence of an inclination I had long retained, which was created in me by many powerful reasons with which you cannot now be made acquainted, for a union between our families. Philadelphia seemed for a considerable time with great cordiality to enter into my views; but as the government of which he was a supporter were pursuing measures highly inimical to the liberties of the people, and as he found I would not be brought into any thing like an approval of such a policy, he began to look upon me with less friendship--he thought it would hurt his loyalty to retain feelings of sociality for one who opposed the measures of his sovereign, and imagined it beneath the dignity of his nobility to encourage an alliance with an untitled merchant. But he little knew that a word would make me his equal in his own ideas of greatness; which, when uttered, would at the same time reduce him to a state of insignificance to which, in comparison, my plebeian condition would have appeared to him princely.

"From a friendly neighbour, Philadelphia became an implacable enemy. I regretted, for the reasons to which I have alluded, that all idea of the proposed union should be thus suddenly terminated; but I had noticed in Eureka so powerful a romantic impulse in her nature, and observed that its effect upon you was so productive of ambitious desires, that I did not lament your separation, but in a very slight degree. The disappointment under which I observed you suffer so acutely, and the restless eagerness for a life of enterprise, I noticed becoming in you daily less supportable, induced me to plan the voyage upon which you are now proceeding. Engage yourself in careful observation of every thing you meet worthy of notice--seek every opportunity for diffusing happiness among those near you, by whom it may be required; and all motive for exertion, that does not tend towards benevolence, all regret for the past, and all desires for the future, will be forgotten in the enjoyment of your own happiness."

"It cannot be," exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, as he concluded the preceding sentence. "I honour my father's noble nature, and would do all in my power to fulfil his benevolent intentions, but I cannot give up Eureka. My ambition I will strive to conquer; but love is not so easily subdued. What care I for the disdain of the proud Philadelphia? I see signs in the times that are likely to bring about important changes, if this state of things continues. The people are dissatisfied with their rulers, and the emperor is endeavouring to make himself absolute. Every day will increase the public discontent, and when the crisis arrives, there will be nothing required but a leader, and down the whole rotten fabric of despotism must tumble. I will wait the time; and then, my father! we will see who is greatest in the land--the generous merchant or the proud noble."

CHAP. IV.

A FIRE AT SEA.

The mid-day meal had concluded in the chief cabin, and its partakers were grouped round a table in the centre of the apartment, assisting with conversation the enjoyment of the wines and delicacies of which they were partaking. The cabin was elegant in its decorations, but they were marked by a more valuable quality than mere elegance: the pictures and other ornaments, possessing features of peculiar interest to persons engaged in traffic, for they represented, or were connected in some way with the objects, the pleasures, and the advantages of commerce; some weapons arranged in a picturesque manner, and placed amongst them by Oriel Porphyry, were the only things there seen that did not partake of the peaceful character of the appearance of the room.

"The only thing I can see in nature," said Captain Compass, as he sat at one end of the table opposite Oriel Porphyry, re-filling his glass, "and the only thing I think worth seeing is glory. May I sink to the bottom of the sea in the next gale, if there's any thing else a fellow should wish to possess. What do you say, master Porphyry?"

"Why, I must acknowledge it has extraordinary attractions," replied the young merchant. "It is generally difficult to obtain,--its pursuit is usually attended with much hazard, but then there is such an excitement in the effort made to possess it, and such a splendour accompanying its possession, that difficulties and dangers ought not to be considered by those by whom it is sought."

"Exactly," responded the captain, with more than usual cordiality; "and they only can obtain glory who express such sentiments."

"But it is uncertain as yet what definition you give to the idea you call glory," remarked the oldest member of the party,--a man rather above the medium height, and considerably beyond the middle age, with a large head, nearly bald, prominent nose, and deep-set eyes, well shaded by a pair of thick grisly eyebrows. His features were somewhat stern in their expression, apparently more from the result of continual reflection than from want of kindly feeling; and although they indicated considerable mental power, a consciousness of superiority betrayed itself quite as conspicuously. It may easily be imagined that this was the learned Professor Fortyfolios. "The consideration of any abstract idea," continued the professor, who, it will be observed, having been a public lecturer in the university of Columbus, had acquired a more important manner of expressing his sentiments than was usual in conversation. "The consideration of any abstract idea, appears under different circumstances in the minds of different individuals, but this is as much the result of an habitual tendency to certain associations in the person who considers the subject, as the consequence of the variety of organisations that exist in society. Scarcely any two persons are to be met with whose reflective faculties pursue the progress of ratiocination exactly in the same manner,--because no two individuals being exactly alike, and the mind being a portion of the self, partaking of its individuality, as in a mirror, the shadow is a resemblance of the features, each must receive its own separate impressions, and consider them in its own peculiar manner. It follows, as a natural consequence, that the thoughts of the speaker will partake of his individual habitude, and that his conception of glory, or any other abstract idea, will be coloured by his particular way of life."

"Well, I don't know in what latitude abstract ideas may be found," said the captain, a little puzzled by the professor's explanation; "but I think any body knows the landmarks of glory. If I saw a little ship manned by a few brave spirits, fight a ship double its size, or may be two ships or may be three, defended by a crew as superior in numbers; and after raking her fore and aft, smashing every thing to splinters, and cutting every thing to rags, pipe all hands to board, and sweep away the enemy from their own decks into the sea, and after that sail away with the prize, I should call _that_ glory."

"The action is glorious no doubt," observed Oriel Porphyry, "but it does not realise my conception of glory. I imagine a man, in the truest sense of the word, living in a country groaning under the despotism of a tyrant, and having that spirit of freedom in his nature, which must always accompany greatness; and that uncontrollable energy of valour in his character, which is its element, pointing out to his fellow-sufferers the cause of their slavery, stirring in their hearts an unconquerable love of independence, and after gathering them together by twos and threes, then by hundreds and thousands, and lastly, by resistless multitudes, at their head attacking the hordes of armed plunderers by whom their subjugation had been effected; driving them from the tented field to the battlemented wall, and from the battlemented wall to the grave; and when not a trace of tyranny remained throughout the land, I imagine that man the liberator of his country, and the emancipator of its people, honoured as he ought to be, and possessed with the power with which their gratitude should invest him, conducting the nation he had enfranchised to the highest degree of prosperity and greatness--and I call _that_ glory."

"Then my notion of the same idea differs materially from those you have given," said the professor. "In the first place, there are two antagonist principles, from which all good and ill emanate--intelligence and ignorance; and only according to the predominance of the former can we judge of the extent of the excellence of any thing. As we know that all which is beneficial proceeds from intelligence, and that without intelligence nothing good can arise, and that without good there can be no such thing as glory, it must be evident that he who produces intelligence acquires the truest and greatest glory. The philosopher who spends laborious days in amassing knowledge by observation and study, which he distributes to the whole world, and whose labours continue to the end of time to ennoble and refine mankind; in the fame with which his name must be inseparably connected among all generations, and wherever civilisation exists, realises, in my opinion, the _only_ true idea of glory the human mind can conceive."

"I beg leave to differ from you all," cried a stout little man (whose round, rosy face bore the perfect expression of good humour), sitting opposite the professor, and whose professional conversation proclaimed him to be Dr. Tourniquet, "I beg leave to differ from you all, don't you see. I cannot imagine glory to belong to anything that does not tend to alleviate the sufferings or remove the diseases of the human frame, don't you see. Life is subject to a multitude of maladies--from the cradle to the grave there is a constant succession of aches and pains, and few escape without experiencing disorders more or less dreadful. Now my idea is, that evil and good are but other names for pain and pleasure, don't you see; that he who lessens the quantity of evil is alone entitled to the name of benefactor, which brings with it the greatest degree of glory it is possible to possess, don't you see; and that, consequently, the man who devotes his life to procure others the enjoyment of health--who boldly ventures among the most malignant contagions to study their effects, and origins--who carefully examines every morbid structure in the living and the dead, at the greatest personal risk and inconvenience, till he becomes familiar with all its appearances and discovers its creating cause; and by long study of the properties of different medicinal substances, of external circumstances that tend to produce health or disease, and by his intimate acquaintance with the human body in every state in which it can be seen;--in my opinion, that man, who by knowledge thus acquired, and thus applied, through his example made public, being enabled to save or prolong the lives of millions of his fellow-creatures, and multiply the blessings of existence, in the admiration with which his name must always be regarded, is the _only_ perfect conception of glory that can be entertained, don't you see."

"Pooh, pooh!" exclaimed the captain, somewhat contemptuously. "What glory can there be in giving a fellow a dose of physic?"

"Unless there be some ennobling sentiment in the mind, which is developed in great actions such as I have described, glory cannot exist," said Oriel Porphyry.

"Strife must always be a bad means to whatever end it may lead," observed his tutor; "and as nothing but ignorance can make men endeavour to destroy each other, strife can never be productive of true glory."

"The amount of pain, resulting from battles either on sea or land, is immense," remarked the doctor. "Gunshot wounds, fractures, contusions, ruptures, laceration, inflammation, suppuration, mortification, and death; and, therefore, he who creates so much pain, cannot, by his actions, be said to achieve anything like glory, don't you see. As for philosophy and its qualifications for being considered the only thing that is most glorious, if the philosopher cannot set a broken bone, or remove a disease, pain must exist in spite of such philosophy; and therefore, the philosopher, who is enabled to prevent or remove pain, has the best reason to glory in his philosophy, don't you see."

"But pain cannot, on many occasions, be either removed or prevented," replied the professor, seemingly preparing himself for an argument. "Pain is frequently produced by accidents which cannot be foreseen, and therefore cannot be prevented; and these frequently assume shapes on which science is exerted in vain, and therefore they cannot be removed: in these cases, where surgery and medicine are perfectly useless, philosophy is triumphant; for it will enable the sufferer to be regardless of his pain, and to look upon his dissolution with indifference."

"What is the use of your philosophy to the insane?" asked the doctor, who seemed to take considerable delight in opposing the professor.

"I should imagine it would be about as serviceable as your medical treatment," retorted the other.

"Nothing of the kind," replied his antagonist with a chuckle of triumphant congratulation. "A knowledge of the anatomy of the brain, its functions, and operations, with sufficient information as to the patient's history, general habits and mode of thinking, applied by an experienced practitioner, may often effect a cure, don't you see."

"May often, but how often?" inquired Fortyfolios, with some appearance of sarcasm. "To one restored to sanity, there will be found fifty incurables--so where's your remedy?"

"To one philosopher there will be discovered a thousand fools, don't you see--so where's your philosophy?" responded the other in a similar tone.

"Dr. Tourniquet," replied the professor with a look of offended dignity, "I trust my philosophy will be found whenever it is required."

"Professor Fortyfolios," said the doctor, evidently desirous of pushing matters with his antagonist as far as possible, "if you wait till it's required, perhaps you may have to wait a long time, don't you see."

"No Sir, I don't see!" cried the now angry Professor with much warmth. "And allow me to add, Dr. Tourniquet--allow me to add, I say----"

"The wine, if you please," cried Oriel Porphyry, who, with the captain, had enjoyed the discussion till he thought it necessary to interfere.

"Ay, the wine, Professor Fortyfolios," repeated the doctor, with his usual good humour. "It is the most admirable addition to your excellent arguments you could have conceived; and, therefore, as a mark of sincere respect for your superior learning, allow me to propose your health, don't you see."

The professor recovered his dignity immediately. "I agree completely," said he, after having properly acknowledged the compliment he had received, "I agree completely with the opinion of my accomplished friend, as to the great degree of pain produced by warfare, and----"

"Froth and moonshine!" exclaimed the captain, interrupting him. "Why we must all die some day or other, and it is quite as agreeable to strike your colours to a bullet or a sword thrust, as to old age or the gout. In my opinion, a fellow who lives past his strength, is like a ship that isn't sea-worthy,--he ought to be destroyed as useless. As for fighting being unnatural, it's the most natural thing in nature. In the sea, the big fish destroy the little fish; in the air, the great birds prey upon the smaller ones; and on the land, the more powerful animals devour those of less strength. Every thing has to fight for its existence, and so does man."

"But man alone preys upon his own species," remarked the professor.

"You're out of your reckoning there, most decidedly, Mister Professor," replied Captain Compass hastily: "cocks, quails, pheasants, bulls, deer, dogs, and cats fight each other, as long as they've got a leg to stand upon; and the sow devours her own farrow, and the rabbit her own litter, without any sort of compunction."

"There can at least be no apology for the ferocity with which man in a state of civilisation, pursues his fellow-creatures to the death, don't you see," said the doctor.

"Ferocity!" exclaimed the captain fiercely. "Who are so ferocious as philosophers?"

The professor and the doctor uttered a simultaneous exclamation of surprise.

"Did you ever hear of fellows the most ready for fighting," continued the other, "filling the veins of live animals with poison,--maiming and torturing poor dumb creatures, in every way ingenuity could devise, merely for the sake of experiment; and then, after having indulged themselves with the sight of such cruelty, sitting down quietly to describe in the most minute manner, the agonies they have inflicted? No, it's only the philosopher does these things,--the philosopher, who shudders at the idea of a man killing those who seek to kill him, but counts how many seconds an unoffending animal is in dying, after having its brain scooped out, or its heart torn from its breast. Scrunch me, if I wouldn't at once be the man who kills whoever opposes him, a thousand times, than such a cowardly, calculating, inhuman miscreant."

What the reply to these observations might have been, it is impossible to say, as the party were disturbed just at that moment by a knock at the cabin door, and entrance being given, in walked the ungracious villain Scrumpydike.

"Well, what news?" inquired the captain.

"Ship a fire, Sir," said the man, composedly.

"The ship on fire!" loudly exclaimed all at once, as they suddenly rose from their seats with different degrees of alarm expressed on their several countenances.

"Yes Sir, ship a fire, about half a mile off," replied the sailor, looking as if he would have laughed if he had dared at the consternation he had created.

It was wonderful to observe the change which took place on hearing the last announcement. The idea of being roasted alive, would be sufficiently terrible to scare the stoutest heart; and on this occasion even the bold spirit of Oriel Porphyry quailed at the sudden and frightful danger. It is a mistake to imagine, that the brave never feel an emotion of fear; dangers that they have contemplated, may be met without the slightest feeling of dread; but a new danger, for which they are unprepared, is sure to leave upon the bravest of the brave some impression of affright. The alarm, however, that had been created was but momentary, and as soon as it was erased, the whole party hastened upon deck to observe the conflagration. Scrumpydike had been left alone; so seeing the coast clear, and the table covered with tempting viands, he hastily proceeded to cram his mouth with preserves and fruits; and was just raising a bottle to his lips, to wash them down with a good draught of exquisite wine, when he beheld in the shadow of the room, what he thought to be, two flaming eyes, fixed upon him, flashing glances of scorn and indignation: the bottle fell from his hands into a thousand pieces, his forbidding features expressed the most intense horror, and with a piercing yell he fled from the room trembling with all the terrors of an evil and superstitious nature, and leaving Zabra more than usually gratified by the impression he had made.