Chapter VII: Part 7

"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.

The artillery was then brought to bear upon the place, but scarcely had it been placed in a proper position, before it was rendered unserviceable by the destructive fire from the batteries; and the troops finding that they were being mowed down without a chance of silencing their opponents, charged up the avenue--the horse supported by the foot regiments. Here they were met by a fire of musketry from the houses on each side, and having passed a short distance amid showers of heavy missiles, that were hurled down upon them from the tops of the buildings by the enraged citizens, they came to a barrier hastily erected of stones and earth, from which a murderous fire from three thirty-two pounders opened upon them as they advanced, throwing the cavalry into confusion, and causing them to retreat in disorder upon the infantry.

Here they were joined by a strong reinforcement, consisting of several thousand fresh troops, and a charge was made upon the barrier which, after an obstinate resistance, was forced. They then proceeded onwards, exposed to a destructive fire from the neighbouring houses; but they had not advanced above a hundred yards, when they were thrown into a complete derout by the hasty retreat of a regiment of horse, which fell back upon them, scattering dismay and terror into their ranks. Shouts of triumph were heard in the distance, accompanied by the fierce roar of cannon, and the rattle of frequent volleys of musketry. While the whole military force was on the point of endeavouring to find safety in flight, they were joined by another large reinforcement, and the cavalry having re-formed as soon as they beheld the new troops, they moved forward in a body to where it was evident that a violent contest was raging. They continued to meet parties both of horse and foot flying from the scene of action; and these were received into their ranks.

Having passed through several streets, fighting at every step, they advanced under a broad archway into an open park. Here a tremendous battle was still going on. The two contending armies were placed opposite each other, and had been engaged for several hours attacking each other's positions, and defending their own. The army of the people had taken up a position on a slope with a plantation of fine oak trees on one side, and a deep but narrow rivulet on the other. Their centre was composed of the national guards; their right wing consisted of a body of several thousand sailors; and their left was a body of armed citizens equally numerous, supported by several batteries, and a reserve of cavalry. They were opposed by the flower of the emperor's troops; but their superior discipline and military skill availed them nothing. Although the citizens suffered severely from the attacks which were made upon them, they increased in numbers every hour. Thousands joined their ranks; new batteries were raised; and while the enemy was losing strength, they were increasing their forces.

Oriel Porphyry, on his landing, made for the rendezvous which had been agreed upon. Here he placed himself at the head of his own regiment of dragoons; with which, assisted by the citizens from their houses, he attacked several parties of the military that paraded the streets. The national guards then began to make their appearance in great numbers; and these having provided themselves with arms from the gun-shops while the young merchant kept the imperial troops employed, soon collected together and marched to his assistance. Finding himself in two or three hours at the head of a body of nearly twenty thousand men, willing to follow wherever he led, he left the street-fighting to the citizens, and sending several detachments in different directions, so as, as much as possible, to divide the attention of the military, he took up the position that has been described, in the park, with the intention of attacking a large body of troops there posted.

The battle began by a division of the imperial troops attempting to force a bridge over the rivulet, which was defended by the sailors, supported by several pieces of cannon. The attack was continued with great spirit, reinforcements arriving almost every half hour; but it was defended with equal bravery, and the soldiers were beaten back every time with very great loss. Two regiments of cavalry then were sent against it, but the bridge being narrow, only a few could attempt to cross at a time, and these were brought down by the cannon and musketry as soon as they made their appearance. The lower part of the bridge became blocked up with dead bodies, and the cavalry, after repeated efforts, were obliged to retreat, having lost nearly one third of their number.

An attempt was now made on the wood by a strong party of infantry, while the cavalry in great force made an attack upon the centre; but a strong palisade had been raised among the trees, from which the citizens, in almost perfect security, poured a deadly fire upon the advancing columns, which thinned their ranks rapidly; and the national guards having formed into square, as the cavalry advanced, received them with such streams of bullets, that they staggered and fell back. They repeated the attack several times, and always met with the same result. While these proceedings had been going on, Oriel Porphyry had given orders for the sailors to pass the bridge, whom he supported with his cavalry, and they fell with irresistible impetuosity upon the left wing of the enemy, which had been considerably weakened by its unsuccessful attacks upon the bridge.

The young merchant dashed on at the head of his dragoons, exhibiting the most daring valour. He had had three horses killed under him during the battle, and had been wounded in several places, but he continued his brilliant career, making both cavalry and infantry fly before him. The left wing, after a brief resistance, gave way, and they were in full retreat when they were met by the soldiers who had been on guard in the quadrangle. Immediately they fled, he made a desperate attack upon the enemy's rear, and the national guards making a charge at the same moment all along their line, the imperial troops were thrown into inextricable confusion, and the reinforcement which made its appearance only came in time to be mixed up in the general rout. They were pursued from street to street without the slightest cessation; and so general was the panic that spread among them on their retreat, that they flung away their arms, and dispersed in every direction.

A few days after the transactions just narrated the city seemed as if dressed for a festival. The houses were decorated with garlands of flowers, flags, and pieces of rich tapestry, and the windows and house-tops were crowded with elegantly dressed females, and the citizens in their holyday-dresses. Every face seemed breathing gladness, and every eye beamed with delight. The long thoroughfares were thronged with spectators, all of whom wore the same joyful expression of countenance; they were waiting the expected return of Oriel Porphyry from his last battle with the enslavers of his country, in which the emperor had been slain, and his forces completely discomfited.

Distant shouts of triumph announced the approach of the young conqueror; and every neck was stretched out, and every eye turned in the direction from whence the sounds proceeded. The cheers of the excited citizens became gradually more loud, and the impatience of the inhabitants of the houses more conspicuous. At last the measured sound of military music came upon the ear, and in a few minutes the whole force of the metropolitan national guards marched by; every regiment with its band playing and its ensigns waving; after them came a car, drawn by four milk-white horses, on which lay the body of the philanthropist in his robe of honour; it was followed by Oriel Porphyry, or, to give him his proper title, the prince of Philadelphia, bare-headed, on a powerful war-charger, who seemed by his prancings and curvettings, proud of the noble burden he carried. Blessings were showered upon him from every side; flowers descended on his head, and all hailed him as the deliverer of his country. His handsome countenance and manly figure never appeared impressed with such a nobility of character as when he bowed in acknowledgment of the universal enthusiasm which was excited in his favour. Eureka rode at his side, expressing by her beautiful countenance the delight she experienced. His own regiment of cavalry came next, and they were followed by the crew of the Albatross, and of the other merchant vessels that had assisted him in the struggle. Nothing was heard among the people but cheering and exclamations of praise; nothing was seen but the waving of caps and handkerchiefs.

In the course of the same day Oriel Porphyry was declared emperor of the Columbians; and when he ascended the throne of his country Eureka shared in his glory.

THE END.

LONDON:
Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE,
New-Street-Square.

Transcriber's Note

A table of Contents has been added.

Text in italics has been placed between _underscores_ and text in small capitals has been changed to all capitals.

Some punctuation errors have been corrected silently. Inconsistent use of quotation marks in some parts of the book has not been changed.

The following corrections have been made, on page

15 "Chinberkin" changed to "Climberkin" (the strong grasp of Boggle
and Climberkin that prevented)

32 "ome" changed to "some" (I offended some and surprised others)

98 "shrunkback" changed to "shrunk back" (She shrunk back from)

109 "acknowment" changed to "acknowledgement" (from my
acknowledgement of these sentiments)

129 "because" changed to "became" (and the farmers became fishermen)

178 "n" changed to "in" (in evident confusion)

178 "trange" to "strange" (can there be strange or unaccountable)

182 "Lilya'" changed to "Lilya's" (such hearts as yours and Lilya's)

200 "thumber" changed to "number" (or the mere number of books
comparatively useless)

279 "misable" changed to "miserable" (a very shocking miserable
sinner).

Otherwise the original was preserved, including archaic and inconsistent spelling and hyphenation.