CHAPTER III.

THE GOLDEN ROOM.

Roderick Borgia leads Lucretia across the threshold of the Golden Room. She utters an ejaculation of wonder mingled with terror. For it is a magnificent, and yet a gloomy place that Golden Room. A large square apartment, the walls concealed by black hangings,--hangings of velvet fringed with gold. The floor is covered with a dark carpet, the ceiling represents a sun radiating among sullen clouds. The chairs, the sofa, are covered with black velvet, and framed in gold. Only a single mirror is there,--opposite the sofa, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, framed in ebony, which in its turn is framed in a border of gold. A lamp, whose light is softened by a clouded shade, stands on an ebony table, between the sofa and the mirror, and around the lamp are clustered fruits and flowers, two long necked glasses, and a bottle of Bohemian glass, blue, veined with gold. A single picture, suspended against the dark hangings, alone relieves the sullen grandeur of the place. It is of the size of life, and represents Lucretia Borgia, her unbound hair waving darkly over her white shoulders, and half bared bosom, her eyes shooting their maddening glance, from the shadow of the long eyelashes, her form clad in a white garment, edged with scarlet,--a garment which, light and airy, floats like a misty vail about her beautiful shape. Coming from the darkness into this scene, the masked Lucretia, as we have said, could not repress an ejaculation, half astonishment, half fear--

"Never fear," cries Roderick gayly, as he flung his plumed cap on the table. "It looks gloomy enough, but then it is like the Golden Room in the Vatican, of which history tells. And then,"--he pointed to the picture, "the living Lucretia need not fear a comparison with the dead one. Remove your mask! I am dying to look upon you."

Lucretia sank upon the sofa with Roderick by her side. Roderick unmasked and revealed the somber features of Gabriel Godlike. Lucretia dropped her mask, and the light shone on the face of Esther Royalton.

"By heavens, you are beautiful!"--his eyes streamed with singular intense light, from the shadow of his projecting brow.

And she was beautiful. A faultless shape, neck and shoulders white as snow, a countenance framed in jet-black hair, the red bloom of a passionate organization on lips and cheeks, large eyes, whose intense light was rather deepened than subdued by the shadow of the long eyelashes. And then the blush which coursed over her face and neck, as she felt Godlike's burning gaze fixed upon her, can be compared to nothing save a sudden flash of morning sunlight, trembling over frozen snow. One of those women, altogether, whose organization embodies the very intensity of intellect and passion, and whose way in life lies along no middle track, but either rises to the full sunlight, or is lost in shadows and darkness.

"You consent, my child?" Godlike softened his organ-like voice,--took her hand within his own--she did not give, nor did she withdraw her hand,--"Randolph shall go abroad, upon an honorable mission to a foreign court, where he will be treated as a man, without regard to the taint (if thus it may be called) in his blood. He will have fair and free scope for the development of his genius. And you,--"

He paused. She lifted her eyes to his face, and met his burning glances, with a searching and profound look.

"And myself,--"

"And you shall go with me to Washington, where your beauty shall command all hearts, your intellect carve for yourself a position, that a queen might envy."

She made no reply, but her eyes were downcast, her beautiful forehead darkened by a shade of thought. Was she measuring the full force and meaning of his words?

"In,--what--capacity--did--you--say?" she asked at length in a faint voice.

"As my ward,--" responded Godlike; "you will be known as my ward, the heiress and daughter of a wealthy West Indian, who at his death, intrusted your person and fortune to my care. You will have your own mansion, your pair of servants, carriage and so-forth,--in fact, all the externals of a person of immense wealth. As my ward you will enter the first circles of society. The whole machinery of life at the Capital will be laid bare to your gaze, and with your hand upon the spring which sets that machinery in motion, you can command it to your will. You will not live, you will reign!"

"Tell me something," said Esther, in a low voice, her bosom for a moment swelling above the scarlet border of her robe,--"Tell me something of life at the Capital,--life in Washington City."

Godlike laughed until his broad chest shook again,--a deep sardonic laugh.

"Poets have prated of the influence of woman, and most wildly! But life in Washington City distances the wildest dream of the poets. There woman is supreme. Never was her influence so absolute before, at any court,--neither at the court of Louis the Great, nor that of George the Fourth,--as at the plain republican court of Washington City. The simple people, afar off from Washington, think that it is the President, the Heads of the Department, the Senators and Representatives, who make the laws and wield the destinies of the republic. They think of great men sitting in council, by the midnight lamp, their hearts heavy, their eyes haggard with much watching over the welfare of the nation. Bah! when the real legislator is not a grave senator or solemn minister of state, but some lovely woman, armed only with a pair of bright eyes, and a soft musical voice. The grave legislators of the male gender, strut grandly in their robes of office, before the scenes,--and that poor dumb beast, the people, opens its big eyes, and stares and struts; but behind the scenes, it is woman who pulls the wires, makes the laws, and sets the nation going." He paused and laughed again. "Why, my child, I have known the gravest questions, in which the very fate of the nation was involved, decided upon, in senate or in cabinet, after long days and nights of council and debate, and,----knocked to pieces in an instant by the soft fingers of a pretty woman. It is red tape, _versus_ bright eyes in Washington City, and eyes always carry the day."

"This is indeed a strange story you are telling me," said Esther, her eyes still downcast.

Godlike for a moment surveyed himself in the mirror opposite, and laughed.

"I vow I had quite forgotten, that I was arrayed in this singular costume,--scarlet tunic, edged with ermine, and so-forth,--it is something in the style of Borgia, and," he added to himself, surveying the somber visage and massive forehead, surmounted by iron gray hair,--"not so bad looking for a man of sixty! You think it impossible?" he continued aloud, turning to Esther, who had raised her hand thoughtfully to her forehead,--"why my dear child, a man who lives in Washington for any time, sees strange things. I have seen a husband purchase a mission by the gift of the person of a beautiful wife; I have seen a brother mount to office over the ruins of his sister's honor; I have seen a gray-haired father, when all his claims for position proved fruitless, place in the scale, the chastity of an only and beautiful daughter--and win. By ----!" he drew down his dark brows, until his eyes were scarcely visible, "How is it possible to look upon mankind with anything but contempt,--contempt and scorn!"

"But," and Esther raised her eyes to that bronzed face, every lineament of which now worked with a look of indescribable scorn,--"you have genius,--the loftiest! you tower above the mass of men. You have influence,--an influence rarely given to any one man; it spans the continent; why not use your genius and influence to make men better?"

There was something in her tone, which struck the heart of Godlike. The expression of intense scorn was succeeded by a look of sadness as intense. His brows rose, and his eyes looked forth, large, clear and dreamy. It was as though that dark countenance, seamed by the wrinkles of long years of sin, had been, for an instant, baptized with the hope and freshness of youth.

"That was long ago; long ago; the dream of making men better. I felt it once,--tried to carry it into deeds. But the dream has long since past. I awakened from it many years ago. You see it is very pleasant to believe in the innate goodness of human nature, but attempt to carry it into action, and hark! do you not hear them, the very people, to whom yesterday you sacrificed your soul; hark! '_crucify him! crucify him!_'"

He rose from the sofa, and the mirror reflected his majestic form, clad in the attire of Roderick Borgia, and his dark visage, stamped with genius on the giant forehead, and burning with the light of a giant soul in the lurid eyes. He was strangely agitated. His chest heaved beneath his masker's attire. There was an absent, dreamy look in his upraised eyes.

"I used to think of it, and dream over it, in my college days,--of that history in which 'Hosanna!' is shouted to-day, and palm branches strewn; and to-morrow,--the hall of Pilate, the crown of thorns, the march up Calvary, and the felon's cross! I used, I say, to think and dream over it in my college days. As I looked around the world and surveyed history, and found the same story everywhere: found that for bold imposture and giant humbug, in every age, the world had riches, honor, fame, while in return, for any attempt to make it better, it had the cry, 'crucify! crucify!' it had the scourge, the crown of thorns, and the felon's cross."

His voice swelled bold and deep through the silent room; as he uttered the last word, he raised his hand to his eyes, and for a moment was buried in the depth of his emotions. Esther, raising her eyes, regarded with looks of mingled admiration and awe, that forehead, upon which the veins stood forth bold and swollen,--the handwriting of the inward thought.

"The devil is a very great fool," he said, with a burst of laughter, "to give himself so much trouble about a world which is not worth the damning." And then turning to Esther, he said bitterly: "Do you ask me why I utterly despise mankind, and why I have lost all faith in good? In the course of a long and somewhat tumultuous life, I have found one thing true,--whenever from a pure impulse, I have advocated a noble thought, or done a good deed, I have been hunted like a dog, and whenever from mere egotism, I have defended a bad principle, or achieved an infamous deed, I have been worshiped as a demigod. Yes, it is not for one's bad deeds that we are blamed; it is for the good, that condemnation falls upon us."

He strode to the table, and filled a glass to the brim with blood-red Burgundy: "My beautiful Esther, your answer! Which do you choose? On the one hand want and persecution, on the other, position and power,--yes, on the one hand the life of the hunted pariah; on the other, sway of an absolute queen."

He drained the glass, without removing it from his lips; then advancing to the sofa, he took her hands within his own, and raised her gently to her feet.

"Esther, it is time to make your choice," he said, bending the force of his gaze upon that beautiful countenance: "which will you be? Your brother's slave, hunted at every step, and even doomed to be the pariah of the social world,--or, will you be the ward of Gabriel Godlike, the beautiful heiress of his West Indian friend, the unrivaled queen of life at the capital."

Esther felt his burning gaze, and said with downcast eyes,--her voice very low and faint--"And in return for this generous protection, what am I to give you?"

"Can you ask, my child?" he said, and pressed her hand within his own.--"You will be my friend, my counselor, my companion."

"Companion?"

"Wearied with the toils of state, the wear and tear of the world,--in your presence, I will seek oblivion of the world and its cares. With you I will grow young again, and--who knows--but guided by you, I shall, even at three-score, learn to hope in man? Your heart is fresh, your intellect clear and vivid: I shall often seek your counsel in affairs of state, for I have learned, that in nine cases out of ten, it is better to rely upon the _intuitions_ of woman, than upon the careful logic of the shrewdest man. In a word, dear child, you will be my companion,--my divinity"--

"Divinity?"

"Yes,--divinity! Tradition says that Lucretia Borgia was the most wondrously beautiful woman of all her age; and if yonder canvas does not flatter her, tradition does not lie. Now, you are living and more beautiful than Lucretia Borgia, without her crimes. Yes, more lovely than Lucretia, and,--pure as heaven's own light."

"Pure as heaven's own light?"

"You echo me,--and with a mocking smile. Woman! your beauty maddens me! I adore you!" His face was flushed with passion,--his deep-set eyes flamed with a fire that could not be mistaken,--his voice, at other times deep as an organ, was tremulous and broken. First pressing her clasped hands against his broad chest,--which heaved with emotion,--he next girdled her waist with his sinewy arm, and despite her struggles, drew her to his bosom. "Gaze upon yonder portrait! those eyes are wildly beautiful, but pale when compared with yours. That form is cast in the mould of voluptuous loveliness, but yours,--yours, Esther,--yours--"

Advancing toward the portrait, he pushed the hangings aside,--the doorway of an adjoining apartment was revealed.

"Come, Esther, by heavens you must be mine,--and now!"

There was no mistaking the determination of that husky voice, the passion of that bloodshot eye.

Now pale as death, now covered from the bosom to the brow with burning blushes, she struggled in his embrace, but in vain. He dragged her near and nearer to the threshold--on the threshold (which divided the Golden Room from the next apartment, where all was dark as midnight) he paused, drew her struggling form to his breast, and stifled the cry which rose to her lips, with burning kisses.

With a desperate effort she glided from his arms, and the next moment,--her hair unloosed on her bosom bared in the struggle,--confronted him with the poniard gleaming over her head.

"Hoary villain!" she cried, dilating in every inch of her stature, until she seemed to rival his almost giant height,--"lay but a finger on me and you shall pay for the outrage with your life!"

Her head thrown back, her bared bosom swelling madly in the light, her dark hair resting in one rich, wavy mass upon her neck and shoulders,--it was a noble picture. And her eyes,--you should have seen the flashing of her eyes! As for the statesman, with one foot upon the threshold, he turned his face over his shoulder, thus exhibiting his massive features in profile, and gazed upon her with a look which was something between the sublime and the ridiculous; a strange mixture of passion, wonder and chagrin.

"Esther,----"

"No doubt you can induce husbands to sell their wives to you;" the eyes still flashed, and the poniard glittered overhead; "no doubt, gray-haired fathers have sold their daughters to your embrace; nay, even brothers, for a place, may have given their sisters to your lust; but know," again that bitter word so bitterly said,--'_hoary villain!_'--"know, hoary villain! that Esther Royalton will not sell herself to you, even to purchase her brother's safety, his life, much less her own! For know, that while there is a taint upon my blood, that there is blood in my veins which never knew dishonor, the blood of ---- ----, whose grandchild stands before you!"

As she named that name, Godlike repeated it from pure astonishment.

"You a statesman! you a leader of the American people! Faugh! (Back! Lay not a finger upon me as you value your life!) May God help the Republic whose leaders play the farce of solemn statesmanship by daylight, and at night seek their inspiration in the orgies of the brothel!"

"But, Esther, you mistake me; do not raise your voice,----" his face flushed, his eyes bloodshot, he advanced toward her.

At the same instant she caught the purpose of his eye, and with a blush of mingled shame and anger, for the first time became aware that her bosom was bared to the light.

She retreated,--Godlike advanced,--she, brandishing the dagger,--he, with his hands extended, his face mad with baffled passion. Thus retreating, step by step before him, she reached the table, and cast a lightning glance toward the lamp.

"You shall be mine, I swear it!" He darted forward.

But while her right hand held the dagger aloft, her left sought the lamp, and even as he rushed forward with the oath on his lips, the room was wrapt in utter darkness.

He was foiled. A mocking laugh, which resounded through the darkness, did not add to his composure.

"Esther, Esther," he said, in a softer tone, endeavoring to smother his rage, "I will not harm you, I swear it."

And with his hands extended he advanced in the thick gloom; and Esther, with the handle of her poniard, knocked thrice upon the ebony table.

"Dearest Esther,"--he advanced in the direction from whence the knocks proceeded, and came in contact with a form,--the form of a voluptuous woman, with a young bosom warm with life, and young limbs moulded in the flowing lines of the Medicean Venus? No. Precisely the contrary. But he came in contact with a brawny form, which bounded against him, pinioning his arms to his side, at the same moment that another brawny form clasped him from behind. In a moment, ere he had recovered the surprise caused by this double and unexpected embrace, his arms were tied behind his back, a handkerchief was tightly bound across his mouth, and a second kerchief across his eyes, he was lifted from his feet, and borne upon the shoulders of two muscular men. It was not dignified or statesmanlike, but,--historical truth demands the record,--while in this position, the grave statesman kicked, deliberately and wickedly kicked. But he kicked in vain.

Presently he was placed upon his feet again, and seated in a chair whose oaken back reached above his head, and whose oaken arms pressed against his sides. He could not see, but he felt that light was shining on his face.

So suddenly had his capture been achieved, so strange and complete was the transition from the pursuit of the beautiful Esther, to his present blindfolded and helpless condition, that the statesman, for a few moments, almost believed himself the victim of some grotesque and frightful dream.

All was silent around him.

At length a voice was heard, hollow and distinct in its every tone,--

"Gabriel Godlike, you are now about to be put on trial before the Court of Ten Millions."

There was a long pause; and Godlike, on the moment, remembered every detail which Harry Royalton had poured into his ears, concerning this Court of Ten Millions; its power backed by ten millions of dollars,--its jurisdiction over crimes that 'Courts of Justice' could not reach,--its sessions held in the deep silence of night, and its judgments executed as soon as pronounced. Vividly the story of Harry rose before him; the accusation, the trial, the judgment, the lash, and the back of the criminal covered with stripes and blood.

"The Court of Ten Millions,"--the voice was heard again,--"as you are, doubtless, aware, is thus called, because its power is backed by ten millions of dollars. It exists to punish those crimes which, perchance, from their very magnitude, go unpunished by other courts of justice. It exists to judge and punish two classes of crime in especial: crimes committed for the _love of money_, by the man who seeks to enjoy _labor's fruits_, without sharing _labor's works_; crimes committed by the man who uses his _wealth_, or _the accident of his social position_, as the means of oppressing his fellow-creature, even the poorest and the meanest. Your mind is profound in analysis. You are able, at a glance, to trace nearly all the wrongs which desolate society, and mar the purposes of God in this world, to the classes of crimes which have been named."

There was another long pause. Gabriel had time for thought.

"Gabriel Godlike! Detected in a gross outrage upon a woman whom you thought poor and friendless,--detected in using your wealth and your social position as the means of achieving that woman's dishonor, you are now about to be put on trial before the Court of Ten Millions."

Another pause. Gabriel began to recover his scattered senses. The bandage across his mouth concealed the sardonic smile which flitted over his lips.

"A sort of _Vixhme Gericht_,--something from the dark ages,"--he ejaculated, mentally. And yet he did not feel comfortable. There was Harry Royalton's back; he had seen it. "But _they_ would not dare to flog a statesman,--me! Gabriel Godlike!"

"Still you are at liberty to refuse a trial before this court,"--the voice spoke again,--"but upon one condition. In a room not far removed from this, removed from hearing, and yet within a moment's call, are gathered at this moment a number of gentlemen, who have been summoned to this house on various pretexts; gentlemen, you will remark, of all political parties, high in social position, and bearing the reputation of honorable minded and moral men. Your strongest political friends, your bitterest political opponents are there."

Gabriel began to listen with attention.

"Now you may refuse to be tried before this court on one condition,--that you will be exposed to the gaze of this party of gentlemen, in your present state, with your masquerade attire, and in presence of the woman whom, but a moment since, you threatened with a gross outrage."

Gabriel listened with keener interest.

"If you doubt that this party of gentlemen, consisting of--(he named a number of names familiar to Godlike's ear)--are within call, your doubt can be solved in a moment."

"It is an infernal trap," and Gabriel ground his teeth with suppressed rage.

"If you consent to be tried by this court, be pleased to give a gesture of assent."

Gabriel revolved for a moment within himself, and then slowly nodded his head.

The bandage was removed from his eyes, and the kerchief from his mouth. He slowly surveyed the scene in which, much against his will, he found himself an actor.

It was a spacious apartment, resembling the Golden Room, the walls were hung with black velvet, fringed with gold, and dotted with golden flowers; the ceiling represented a gloomy sky, with the sun in the center, struggling among clouds. It was the same to which he was about to conduct Esther when she escaped from his arms and confronted him with the poniard.

But in place of the voluptuous couch which had stood there, with silken pillows and canopy white as snow, there was a large table covered with black cloth, and extending across the room from wall to wall, and behind the table a raised platform, on which stood an arm-chair, beneath a canopy of dark velvet. A lighted candle in an iron candlestick, stood on the center of the table, and near it, a knotted rope, a book, an inkstand, and a sheet of white paper.

The judge of the court was seated in the arm-chair, under the shadow of the canopy. His face Godlike could not see, for he wore a hat whose ample brim concealed his features, but his white hair descended to the collar of his coat. He wore an old-fashioned surtout of dark cloth, with manifold capes, about the shoulders. His head was bent, his hands clasped, his attitude that of profound quiet or profound thought.

On his left, resting one hand on the arm of his chair, was Esther; her white dress in bold relief with the dark background. Her unbound hair increased the death-like pallor of her face, and her eyes shone with all their fire.

And on the right of the judge stood a huge negro, whose giant frame was clad in a suit of sleek blue cloth, while his white cravat and his wool, also of snow-like whiteness, increased the blackness of his visage. It was, of course, old Royal. He also rested one hand on an arm of the judge's chair.

And on the right and left of Gabriel's chair, stood a muscular man, whose features were hidden by a crape mask.

The scene altogether was highly dramatic. The Borgian attire of Godlike by no means detracted from its dramatic effect.

The silence of the place,--the gloom scarcely broken by the light of the solitary candle,--the contrast between this scene and the one in which he had been an actor but a few moments previous,--all had their effect upon the mind of the statesman.

"A trap! get out of it as I may. An infernal trap!"

Without raising his head, or removing his clasped hands from his breast, the judge spoke, in an even and distinct, although hollow voice,--

"You may still refuse to be tried by this court. Consent to be exposed in your present condition to the gentlemen whom I have named, (and who may be brought hither in an instant), and the trial will not proceed."

The blood rushed to Gabriel's face, but he made no reply.

"Or, if you doubt that those gentlemen are near, it is not too late to remove your doubts."

The veins began to swell on Gabriel's forehead.

"Go on," he said, in a half-smothered tone.

The judge extended his hand and placed a parchment in the hands of Esther.

"Read the accusation," he said, and in a voice at first low and faint, but gradually growing stronger and deeper, Esther read, while a death-like stillness prevailed:

"Gabriel Godlike is accused of the following offenses against man, against society, against God:--

"As a man of genius, intrusted by the Almighty with the noblest, the most exalted powers, and bound to use those powers for the good of his race, he has, in the course of his whole life, prostituted those powers to the degradation and oppression of his race.

"As a statesman, rivaling in intellect the three great names of the nineteenth century, Clay, Calhoun and Webster, he has not, like these great men, been governed by a high aim, an earnest-souled sincerity. His intellect approaches theirs in powers, but as a man, as a statesman, he has not exhibited their virtues. Wielding a vast influence, and bound to use that influence in securing to the masses such laws as will invest every man with the right to the full fruits of his labor, and the possession of a home, he has lent his influence, sold his intellect, mortgaged his official position, to those who enslave labor in workshop and factory, defraud it in banks, and rob the laborer--the freeman--of a piece of land which he may call by the sacred title of home.

"As a lawyer, having a profound knowledge of the technicalities of written law, and an intuitive knowledge of that great law of God, which proclaims that all men are brothers, bound to each other by ties of reciprocal love and duty, he has used his knowledge of written law to gloss over and sanction the grossest wrongs; he has darkened and distorted the great laws of God to suit any case of social tyranny, no matter how damning, how revolting, which he has been called upon to defend for hire.

"As a citizen, bound to illustrate in his life the purity of the Christian, the integrity of the republican, he has never known the affections of a wife, or children, but his private career has been one long catalogue of the basest appetites, gratified at the expense of every tie of truth and honor.

"In his long career, he has exhibited that saddest of all spectacles:--a lawyer, with no sense of right or wrong, higher than his fee; a statesman, regarding himself not as the representative of the people, but as the feed and purchased lawyer of a class; a man of god-like intellect, without faith in God, without love for his race."

Esther concluded; her face was radiant, but her eyes dimmed with tears.

"Gabriel Godlike, what say you to this accusation?" exclaimed the judge.

A sardonic smile agitated the lips of the statesman, but he made no reply in words. At the same time, despite his attempt to meet the accusation with a sneer, its words rung in his very soul, and especially the closing clause, "_without faith in God, without love to his race_."

Gabriel's head sank slowly on his breast, and his down-drawn brows hid his eyes from the light. He was thinking of other years; of the promise of his young manhood; of the dark realities of his maturer years. The judge spoke again.

"Gabriel Godlike, you are silent. You have no reply. In your own soul and before Heaven, you know that every word of the accusation is true. You cannot deny it. Your own soul and conscience convict you."

He paused; again the mocking sneer crossed Gabriel's lips, but a crowd of emotions were busy at his heart. The judge proceeded, in a measured tone. Every word fell distinctly upon the statesman's unwilling ears:

"Gabriel Godlike, you may smile at the idea of being held accountable to God and man, for the use which you have made of your talents in the last forty years, but there will come an hour when History will pass its judgment upon you; there will come an hour when God will demand of you the intellect which he has intrusted to your care. That hour will come. Then, what will be your answer to Almighty God? 'Lord, thou didst intrust me with superior intellect, to be used for the good of my brothers of the human family; and after a life of sixty years, I can truly say, I have never once used that intellect for the elevation of mankind, and have never once failed, when appetite or ambition tempted, to squander it in the basest lusts.' What a record will this be for history; what an answer to be rendered to Almighty God!

"Gabriel Godlike! Great men are placed upon earth, as the prophets and apostles of the poor. It is their vocation to speak the wrongs which the poor suffer, but are unable to tell; it is their mission to find the deepest thought which God has implanted in the breast of the age, and to carry that thought into action, or die. What has been the thought struggling in the bosom of the last fifty years? A thought vast as the providence of God, which, whether called by the name of Social Progress, or Social Re-organization, or by whatsoever name, still looks forward to the day when social misery will be annihilated; when the civilization will no longer show itself only in the awful contrast of the few, immersed in superfluous wealth,--of the many, immersed in poverty, in crime, in despair; a day, when in truth, the gospel of the New Testament will no longer be the hollow echo of the sounding-board above the pulpit, but an every-day verity, carried with deeds along all the ways of life, and manifested in the physical comfort as well as the moral elevation of all men.

"Something like this has been the thought of the last fifty--yes, of the last hundred years. It was the secret heart of our own Revolution. It was the great truth, whose features you may read even beneath the blood-red waves of the French Revolution. And in the nineteenth century this thought has called into action legions of noble-hearted men, who have earnestly endeavored to carry it into action. It has had its confessors, its saints, its martyrs.

"Gabriel Godlike! In the course of your long career, what have you done to aid the development of this thought? Alas! alas! Look back upon your life! In all your career, not one brave blow for man--your brother--not one, not one! As a lawyer, the hired vassal of any wealthy villain, or class of villains; as a legislator, not a statesman, but always the paid special pleader of heartless monopoly and godless capital; as a man, your intellect always towers among the stars, while your moral character sinks beneath the kennel's mud! Such has been your life; such is the use to which you have bent your powers. Like the sublime egotist, Napoleon Bonaparte, you regarded the world as a world without a God, and mankind as the mere creatures of your pleasure and your sport. If the poor wretch, who, driven mad by hunger, steals a loaf of bread, is branded as a CRIMINAL, and adjudged to darkness and chains, by what name, Gabriel Godlike, shall we call _you_? what judgment shall _we_ pronounce upon your head?"

The judge arose, and with his face shaded from the light, and his white hairs falling to his shoulders, he extended his hand toward the CRIMINAL.

There was a blush of _shame_ upon Gabriel's downcast forehead; shame, mingled with suppressed rage.

"Shall we adjudge you to the lash?" and the judge looked first to Gabriel, then to the giant negro by his side.

Godlike raised his head; Esther shuddered as she beheld his look.

"The lash!" he echoed,--"No, by ----! The man does not live who dares speak of such a thing."

"I live, and I speak of it," responded the judge, calmly. "You forget that you are in my power; and, as you are well aware, (it is a maxim upon which you have acted all your life,) 'MIGHT MAKES RIGHT.' And why should you shudder at the mention of the lash? What is the torture, the disgrace of the lash, compared with the torture and disgrace which your deeds have inflicted upon thousands of your fellow men?"

Godlike uttered a frightful oath.--"You will drive me mad!" and he ground his teeth in impotent rage. It was a pitiful condition for a great statesman.

"No, no; the lash is too light a punishment for a criminal of your magnitude. Prisoner, stand up and hear the sentence of the court!"

Gabriel had a powerful will, but the will which spoke in the voice of that old man, his judge, was more powerful than his own. Reluctantly he arose to his feet, his broad chest panting and heaving beneath its scarlet attire.

"Unbind his arms." The masked attendants obeyed. Gabriel's bands were free.

"Secure him, at the first sign of resistance or of disobedience."

The judge calmly proceeded--

"Gabriel Godlike, hear the sentence of the court. You will affix your own proper signature to two documents, which will now be presented to you. After which you are free."

Gabriel could not repress an ejaculation. The simplicity of the sentence struck him with astonishment.

"Hand the prisoner the first document, which he may read," said the judge. Pale and trembling, Esther advanced, and, passing the table, placed a paper in the hands of Godlike, which he read:

"NEW YORK, Dec. 24th, 1844.

"The undersigned, Gabriel Godlike, hereby acknowledges that he was this day detected in the act of attempting a gross outrage upon the person of Esther Royalton, whom he had inveigled to a house of improper report, No. --, ---- street, New York: an outrage which, investigated before a court of law, would justly consign him to the State's Prison.

"Signed in presence of: { {."

No words can picture the rage which corrugated Godlike's visage as he perused this singular document.

"No, I will not sign!"--he fixed his flaming eyes upon Esther's pallid face--"not if you rend me into fragments."

"Esther," said the judge, calmly, "call the gentlemen from the neighboring apartment. Tell them that the purpose for which I summoned them will be explained in this room."

Esther cast a glance upon Godlike's flushed visage, and moved to the door,--

"Stay! I will--I will!" Shame and mortification choked his utterance. He advanced to the table and signed his name to the paper.

The judge drew his broad-brimmed hat deeper over his brows, and advanced to the table.--"I will witness your signature," he quietly observed, and signed a name which Godlike would have given five years of his life to have read.

"The second document rests on the table before you. The writing is concealed by a sheet of paper. You will sign without reading it. There is the place for your signature." And he pushed the concealed document across the table.

"This is too much,--it is infamous," said Godlike, between his teeth. "How do I know what I am signing? I will not do it." He sank back doggedly in his chair; the perspiration stood in thick beads upon his brow.

"Esther," (she lingered on the threshold, as the judge addressed her,) "tell Mr. Godlike's friends that he will be glad to see them."

Oh! bitterly, in that moment, did the fallen statesman pay for the misdeeds of years! As if urged from his seat by an influence beyond his control, he rose and advanced to the table, his brow deformed by the big veins of helpless rage, his eyes bloodshot with suppressed fury,--he signed his name. His hand trembled like a leaf.

"Now, now--am I free?" he cried, beating the table with his clenched hand. "Have you done with me?" He turned his gaze from Esther, who stood trembling on the threshold, to the judge, who, with his shadowed face, stood calm and composed before him.

"I will witness your signature," said the judge, and again signed that name, which Godlike, even amid his wrath, endeavored, and in vain, to read.

At the same instant he placed his hand upon the candle, and all was darkness. In less time than it takes to record it, Godlike was seized, pinioned and blindfolded.

"You will be taken to your dressing-room, in which you will resume your usual attire, after which, without questioning or seeing any one, you will quietly leave this house. As for the gentlemen whom I summoned to this house to look upon your disgrace, I will manage to dismiss them, without mentioning your name."

"And the papers which you have forced me to sign?" interrupted Gabriel.

"Do not speak of force. There was no force save the compulsion of your own crimes. And I give you fair warning that those papers which you have signed here in darkness, you will be asked to sign yet once again in broad daylight. Go, sir: for the present we have done with you."

And as in thick darkness he was led from the hall, trembling with rage and shame, the voice of the judge once more broke on his ears, but this time not addressed to him:

"Pity, good Lord! Pardon me, if I am wrong!"

It was the voice of earnest prayer.