Part 14

"And yet I am afraid I shall lose you," said his companion, anxiously; "I have just heard upon what errand you are hastening. It is full of danger. It is beset by perils. But the cause is a proud one, and I do not attempt to dissuade you from proceeding with it. Go on your career of glory. Give your impetuous soul free scope for the developement of its energies. Think not of me, except the thought can nerve your arm and strengthen your resolution. Be as daring as your fearless nature prompts you to be. With such an end in view as that you have before you, I can allow myself no other sense, or impression, or emotion than that which may accompany my earnest hopes for your success. I have come to a resolution to forget my own selfish feelings. It is time I should. Your advancement, your greatness, your fame, are the objects to which any thoughts must now always incline. If you live to triumph over your enemies, and to attain that eminence whereon you are so desirous of being placed, and to which you will do so much honour, none will rejoice more sincerely than she who has shown herself so anxious to insure your happiness--if you die----"

"Eureka, my adored!" rapturously exclaimed Oriel, pressing her to his breast, as he noticed that she was unable to proceed, "there is no fear of such a result. Believe me you alarm yourself unnecessarily. I shall succeed, I am assured of it: I shall succeed to have the proud enjoyment of glorifying you with my pre-eminence. I feel convinced that if we can only arrive in time, I shall rescue my father. Nothing shall stop me--I will not be defeated: and if we should be too late for this great object, which I see no reason to apprehend, I will not rest satisfied till I have punished his murderers. I have no dread of death; but if I should die, I shall die a death worthy of the lover of Eureka. I shall die in endeavouring to rescue my country from its oppressors.--I shall die in avenging the murder of one of the noblest and best of men."

"One word more, Oriel--one word more," said Eureka. "I have only to ask you, as a testimony of your love for me, that, if in the coming conflict you should meet my father, you will not kill him."

"He deserves little mercy at my hands," replied the young merchant. "But your desire is natural, and I will comply with it. He must answer for his crimes to the country they have disgraced. And now let us go on deck, a little fresh air would do neither of us any harm; and when you behold the noble fleet that has joined me in my enterprise, I hope that all your apprehensions will vanish."

Among the crew of the Albatross the intelligence of the events which had occurred in Columbia created an extraordinary sensation; and as soon as it was known that Oriel Porphyry designed attempting his father's rescue, every man in the ship volunteered to assist in the enterprise. Never was such a general indignation produced as that which burst from them when they learned the fate to which the government had doomed Master Porphyry. A land fight was something new to them, but they did not prepare themselves for it with less alacrity, nor were their tongues less active than their limbs. Various opinions prevailed as to the best method of bringing about a revolution; and as to the best form of government which should replace the old one, there were as many different notions as tongues to utter them. A group had gathered together in the forecastle, where they had been engaged for some time over an extra allowance of grog, discussing different political subjects, when Boggle, who, notwithstanding his promotion, was amazingly fond of associating with his old messmates, joined the disputants.

"I'll tell you what it is, my mates," said he, "government's tryin to come their handy-dandy sugar-candy over us, and we arn't a goin to stand nuffin o' the sort. Are we to be slaves?"

"Never," shouted a dozen voices simultaneously.

"Nebber," echoed Roly Poly, with equal energy, as he was gulping down the contents of a huge black-jack of hot grog.

"Now I likes to have particular notions o' things in general as every man as is a man, and thinks like a man, should," continued Boggle. "And I must say as how it's my notion that there's never no occasion for no government whatsomdever."

"Of course," remarked the boatswain, who would have thought it high treason to have disagreed with his officer.

"Ob coorse," repeated Roly Poly, still pulling away at the black-jack.

"We don't want no rulers--there arn't no 'cessity for 'em;" said the second lieutenant. "But if we must have kings--let every man be his own king."

"Let every man be his own king," was echoed from one to another throughout the circle.

"Let ebery man be his own king," repeated the fat cook.

"The whole circumbendibus comes to this," continued Boggle. "If so be as how we're obligated to pay for what we don't want, it's hoptional on our parts not to want what we're obligated to pay for."

"Certainly, sir," said the boatswain.

"Sartinly, sar," echoed Roly Poly, endeavouring to hold his head up, and look as if he understood what was going forward.

"There's nuffin but oppression goin on fore and aft," said the orator. "They grinds the faces o' the poor, and makes their bread o' the flour; and therefore we must stand up for the liberty o' the subject."

"We must stand up for the liberty o' the subject, there's not a doubt on't," remarked the boatswain, evidently without knowing what the liberty of the subject expressed.

"De libty ob de subjack?" exclaimed the fat cook, vainly endeavouring to steady his position. "I like de libty ob de black-jack best;" and so saying, he waddled off after a very circuitous fashion, with the black-jack under his arm.

CHAP. XII.

THE CONCLUSION.

The morning dawned slow and sullenly over the great metropolis of Columbia; and its immense field of buildings seemed as gloomy as the skies above them. All the shops were closed, as if in a time of general mourning; and the citizens hurried along the streets with melancholy and unsocial looks. Occasionally, two or three would stop at a corner of a street and exchange a few eloquent words and gesticulations; but the approach of some of the numerous bands of soldiers that continually perambulated the streets separated them, and they continued on their way. Everywhere the houses looked cheerless, as if they had been deserted. The shutters were closed, the windows darkened, and not a sign of life appeared about them. Such of the inhabitants as had ventured out, appeared to be proceeding in one direction, communicating with one another when they could do so without being observed by the troops. All wore the same aspect--that of deep dejection; but, occasionally, a close observer might have noticed a more fierce expression in their countenances, as a muttered execration escaped from their lips.

They passed regiments of horse and foot at every commanding situation. The whole city seemed to be filled with them; and their picquets stationed at regular intervals, patroling every thoroughfare, prevented any attempt at revolt on the part of the citizens. Still they proceeded forward till they entered a spacious quadrangle, the whole space of which, including all the avenues that approached it, was filled with soldiers and citizens. Along the wall of a high gloomy building, evidently from its construction a prison, there had been erected a platform, covered with black cloth. Upon it appeared a block, and at a short distance from it a coffin, both covered with black cloth. Around the platform were a troop of horse; and others were posted along the sides of the quadrangle, the inner space of which was filled with a regiment of foot supported by several pieces of artillery.

At one corner of the principal entrance to the quadrangle was an ancient stone structure, very strongly built, from the windows of which there was a good view of the proceedings before the prison; at the opposite corner was a similar edifice, and in their windows and on their roofs crowds of anxious citizens had congregated. If any had come with an intention of attempting a rescue, the disposition of the military was sufficient to make them despair; and all they did was to throng as near as possible to the place of execution, where they stood regarding the scaffold and its defenders with scowling looks, and hearts eager for vengeance.

The utmost decorum prevailed among the multitude. There was no talking or laughing; and when Master Porphyry made his appearance upon the scaffold every head was uncovered, and blessings loud and deep were breathed from all. The philanthropist advanced to the block with a firm step, and eyes as mild and kind as they had ever beamed. His look was cheerful, and his bearing noble and manly. He wore the robe of honour, which distinguished him as the chief magistrate of the city, as if desirous of dying in possession of the dignity to which he had been raised by the respect of his fellow-citizens. After bowing in acknowledgment of the recognitions of the people, he looked unmoved upon the coffin and the block; and with the executioner on one side, masked, having a glittering axe in his hand, and with a priest on the other, who kept addressing him with pious exhortations, to which he paid respectful attention, he advanced to that part of the platform which overlooked the surrounding multitude. Some murmurs and execrations had burst from the spectators at sight of the executioner; but when it was noticed that Master Porphyry was about to address them, the vast assembly were instantly hushed to the most perfect silence.

"My countrymen!" exclaimed the philanthropist, in a clear unbroken voice, "I do not in any way regret the fate that has been prepared for me, except so far as it prevents me continuing those offices of social kindness which made the happiness of my existence. To be without the means of doing good is scarcely less desirable than to be in the commission of evil; and it was a wise and charitable thing of my persecutors, after having confiscated all my property, to take away a life no longer of value to the community."--A low murmur escaped from the crowd. "I may safely say, and I proudly say, I have lived for you; and it is an equal gratification for me to be allowed to assert, that I die for you."--Ten thousand blessings followed the delivery of this sentence.

"My death, therefore, is not to be considered pitiable, if regarded in that light. I am pleased that I have been thought worthy of this honour. I am delighted that my oppressors have given me an opportunity of leaving life with so much satisfaction to myself. Let me beg of you, therefore, to refrain from any exhibition of regret for the manner of my death--it is a very humane one; and my persecutors have shown me a kindness in allowing me to be so disposed of.--I see nothing in it terrible. I see nothing in it painful. I see nothing in it of shame or dishonour. 'T is a blow, and it is over.--Had my oppressors wished, I might have died suffering the most excruciating tortures. Had I lived, probably I might have been the victim of some loathsome disease; or have been deprived of my faculties--have become idiotic, or insane, or blind; and at the last extremity have been deserted by friends, or left without the means of serving those who most required assistance. How much better is it for me to close my existence in this way, without pain, in the full enjoyment of my reason, and surrounded by friends; and although I am rendered incapable of continuing of use to you, the remembrance of the pleasures I have enjoyed from a life of active benevolence is sufficiently agreeable to overpower the regret I feel in having been left to so unprofitable an end."--Again murmurs of applause broke from all parts of the crowd.

"There is however a regret, which is powerful, and which I require all my philosophy to endure.--I regret that I leave my country in a worse condition than I found her.--I regret that the freedom for which I strived so earnestly is passing away from her people.--I regret to see a state of bondage in preparation for the free hearts around me, which is likely to deprive them of all their noblest privileges. I was born a free citizen, and a free citizen I will die. The galling chains of abject servitude which are being forged for you shall never disgrace my nature. Remember, oh, my countrymen, that freedom is your natural inheritance; and although it would be madness to attempt its repossession without sufficient means, never give up the desire of liberty--wait the fitting time; and while you endure, forget not that the graves of your fathers are disgraced, and the spirits of your children are being dishonoured."--The citizens testified, by loud shouts and eager exclamations, their assent to the sentiments expressed by the philanthropist; and many were the fierce looks directed towards the soldiery.

"If there is any man amongst you whom I have injured, I desire of him most earnestly to tell me the wrong I have done, that I may repair it before I die. I am quite certain that I have never done any one an intentional injury; but if I have left undone any good which I might have done, I consider that I have done an injustice, and would remedy it before it be too late. Speak, my fellow-citizens; tell me what injuries against you I have committed."--There was an eloquent silence, that lasted for several minutes. Each man looked at his neighbour, and all saw that the philanthropist had no accuser.

"There is one more subject to which I wish to draw your attention, and it is the last," said Master Porphyry, in a voice less firm than had distinguished the delivery of the preceding portion of his discourse. "I have a son. My persecutors, while punishing me, have thought proper to make my child a beggar;--_that_ I feel. He possesses many good qualities--many good qualities likely to render him an excellent citizen. Let me bequeath him to your care."--A simultaneous shout of assent from the immense multitude proved that the appeal had not been made in vain.

"And now that I have left nothing undone, and nothing untold, I must take my leave of you."

"No, no!" was shouted by every voice.

"My dear friends, it must be," continued Master Porphyry; "I am taking up the time of these good people; and although it is a pleasure for me to linger among you, I must not purchase it at the expense of trouble to others. I should leave you with a cheerful heart, if I had not upon me the fear that there is much suffering preparing for you; and I should die without an unkind feeling against any human creature, if I did not possess at this time a natural indignation against your oppressors. For myself I have no fear--those who have wronged me I forgive; but I have the feelings of a man and a citizen, and I cannot forgive the enemies of my country."--Groans and indignant exclamations here rose on every side. "I implore you to desist from the exhibition of any acts of violence with the hope of procuring my liberation. There is not a chance of success. You will be slaughtered in crowds the first attempt of the kind you may make. Let not my last moments be made wretched by seeing your blood shed unavailingly. If I have done that which seems good in your eyes, it was with the desire of gaining your love that I did it. Have I succeeded?"--An universal shout of assent burst from all parts of the crowd.

"Then I die with the proudest satisfaction I could enjoy under the circumstances. I hope you will raise for me no useless monuments. I desire that when I am dead my unprofitable body may meet with no funeral honours. If I have done that which is honourable, honour me in your remembrance. If I have done that which is good, teach your children to do as I have done. With my best wishes for your happiness--with my most earnest aspirations for your enfranchisement, I can now lay my head upon the block. Grieve not because I die: you should rejoice that your fellow-citizen can die without dishonour."

"We'll avenge you, our benefactor!" shouted a voice from the crowd.

"We'll be revenged on your murderers!" exclaimed another.

"Down with the tyrants!" cried a third. Similar exclamations followed, and the masses of the people seemed in great commotion, pressing forward towards the soldiery with groans, hisses, and execrations; but when the different regiments made a movement forward and presented their arms as if about to fire, the multitude fell back, and order was restored amongst them.

"Think of your sins, unhappy man," said the priest, with a hypocritical visage, who was one of those bigots who put on the garment, and know nothing of the spirit, of religion;--"think of your sins, and repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

"I would repent, good sir," replied Master Porphyry, mildly, "if I thought I had any thing of which I could repent; or if I thought I could do any good by repenting."

"Confess your sins against your God! confess, and be saved! There is salvation for the worst of sinners," drawled out the other.

"I am not aware of having committed any sins," said the philanthropist; "therefore I can have no confession to make."

"How have you served your Creator? What has been your religion?" inquired his companion, sharply.

"I have considered that philanthropy was the only true religion, and I have practised it," replied master Porphyry; "and I felt convinced that the right way of worshipping God was by doing all the good in my power to my fellow-creatures; and from that way I have never deviated."

"Atheistical, abominable, atrocious, heretical, and damnable!" exclaimed the priest, with a look of horror. "You are in the hands of the devil. The church renounces you. Flames and brimstone must be your portion; wailing and gnashing of teeth your reward."

The philanthropist looked surprised; but turning to one of the assistant executioners who stood at a short distance, he said, "I am ready." The man instantly proceeded to disrobe him of his upper garment, and arranged his dress so that the whole of his neck was bare.

"I would rather have died in that robe," observed he; "for I like not parting with the honours that have been bestowed upon me. However, it is gratifying to know that I have never disgraced it. It can give me no distinction where I am going, therefore there let it lie."--His countenance every moment appeared to become more benevolent in its expression; and there was a nobility in his manner that commanded respect from all around him.

"Kill me as quickly as you can, my good friend," said he to the executioner; "but after you have killed me you may do what you please."

The citizens had watched with breathless interest the preparations for Master Porphyry's execution; but when they beheld him kneel down before the block, and saw the headsman raise his axe, a shudder seemed to pass over the whole multitude. At this instant a proud-looking man, in a military costume, appeared upon the scaffold; and, immediately he was observed, a yell of execration arose from the quadrangle, and from every place that could command a view of the platform. The officer stood up his full height, and looked down upon the people with glances of scorn and contempt. Groans, hisses, and curses became louder and more general.

"Death to the persecutor!" shouted one.

"Down with the oppressor!" cried another.

"Yell on ye wretched rabble!" exclaimed the object of their indignation, his mustachios curling with a contemptuous sneer, and his eyes flashing with malignity. "It matters not to me what is said by such vile hounds. Yell on then, it does my heart good to hear ye; and ye know full well ye dare not do any thing else." Then turning round to Master Porphyry, he said, "I have come to testify my loyalty by beholding the death of a traitor."

"There is no traitor here, Philadelphia," replied the philanthropist, mildly, "unless it be yourself."

"Oh, the hated tyrant!" shouted some of the multitude.

"The curses of the people are upon thee, thou miserable slave!" cried others.

"Down with him! Down with the despot! Down with the enslaver of his country!" exclaimed the rest. At this instant a banner was raised near the centre of the quadrangle, with the inscription upon it, in large letters, of "PORPHYRY, OR DEATH!" It was the signal for an immediate rush towards the scaffold. With one simultaneous cheer the vast multitude hurried forwards, burst in upon the troops, and with frantic rage began to struggle with them for the possession of their arms. A volley of musketry from an opposite window at this moment killed the executioners and several others, and the rest, with the exception of Philadelphia and Master Porphyry, took to flight.

"Leap down here, my benefactor, and I will save you," shouted a voice from beneath the platform.

"You shall not escape me a second time, my enemy," muttered the noble as he drew his sword, and with a look of mingled hatred and ferocity exclaimed, "Thus I punish a traitor!" as he drove the weapon through the body of his companion.

The philanthropist gazed on his murderer, more in sorrow than in anger; and the only words he uttered, before he dropped down dead on the platform, were, "MY BROTHER!" The miserable fratricide seemed confounded by the avowal; but little time was allowed him for reflection. Curses, yells, screams, groans, and execrations burst from the assembled citizens as they noticed the death of their chief magistrate; and Philadelphia fell by his side, pierced by a hundred bullets. A shout of triumph arose when they beheld the fall of the tyrant; and, as if inspirited by the sight, they threw themselves upon the soldiery in countless masses, and endeavoured to drag them from their horses, or wrest their weapons out of their hands. In this manoeuvre, although it was attended by immense loss of life, many succeeded; but the strength and discipline of the troops at last prevailed, and the citizens were forced out of the quadrangle; and when the artillery began to play upon them they dispersed in all directions.

The soldiery were now forming ready to make a charge in case the people should re-assemble, when from the stone buildings at the corner of the avenue a most destructive fire of heavy cannon was opened upon them. Every window in the neighbourhood was broken by the concussion, and the havoc made in both the horse and foot regiments was excessive. The word was given for the foot soldiers to endeavour to take these buildings by assault, and they marched forward for that purpose; but directly they came near enough, a continuous stream of bullets issued from every place that could command a shot at them, and they fell back in confusion. Again they advanced to the assault, pouring in a steady fire at the windows; but these spaces were blocked up with sand-bags, allowing only sufficient room for a ship's gun to be run in and out, and they were defended by the crew of the Albatross, under the command of their veteran captain. After fighting their way through all opposition, assisted by detachments from the fleet, and by the citizens, they had dragged the guns through the city, and when the people made their attack upon the soldiers, they were preparing their batteries. The military again came to the attack, amid the enthusiastic cheers of the brave sailors; and although they persisted for a long time in endeavouring to obtain possession of the buildings, they were repulsed and retreated in disorder.